#i really need to practice writing stuff other than fanfics

[theellipelli]

I have always imagined what heaven might look like; brilliant and shining ivory, a place where peace is tangible and rest is eternal. Maybe, if the scriptures were right, I’d face the pearly gates, surely intricate in make and gorgeous, and be told of my kindness and good heart. I never thought much of angels, but company seems like it would be expected. Maybe another soul, dressed in comfortable whites, with a gentle voice welcoming me to my final home. 

What heaven turns out to be, once my mind wakes, is a run-down shack with gaps of sunlight peeking through both the uneven roof and gaps in the wooden walls. A peasant home, judging by the clothes folded over the back of a chair, the hand-carved bowls, the simple kitchen. Sprinkles of dust shine in the gaps of sunlight, a poor man's imitation of fickle snowfall. If not for the warmth and knowing summer to be right around the corner, I might have assumed it was. 

The shack only contains a square single room, generous in size for being a peasants house, but cramped for someone to comfortably live with another. Houses like this are unfamiliar to me, and the bleakness of it momentarily takes me so far away that I make no note of the bed pushed up against the corner behind me.

“Hideous, isn’t it?” 

The bed, strangely fine amongst the rest of a house, is occupied by layers upon layers of felts and pillows, and a single frail-looking woman. Her hair is cut short, like a man's, and her skin is almost transparent. Her cheeks are gaunt, and the circles under her eyes are so dark it could be mistaken for coal or dirt. 

Despite her wretched appearance, her eyes are brilliant and vibrantly green. 

“It’s…” I begin, choosing carefully what to say, “...quaint.”

The woman looks slightly older than I, but it’s hard to tell due to her seeming poor health. She smiles at my words, leaning back into the large bulk of pillows and closing her eyes. “Flattery has no place here,” she says, voice faint. The way she speaks makes it seem like she’s fighting to keep herself from coughing. “You look like a fine woman. I’m sure this place is as quaint as a cave to you.”

She’s correct, although admitting to it feels rude. I would rather not begin my afterlife with arrogance, no matter how much my husband would have encouraged it. 

“Where am I?” I ask, awkwardly wringing my fingers behind my back. 

The woman hums. “Would you like to sit? Grab one of the chairs, and come here. I can’t see you well over there.” She opens her eyes and waves towards one of the chairs tucked into the sides of the dining table. “My husband won't be back for another hour. Come, come.”

I contemplate my options but eventually decide there is no harm in resting, too. I grab the chair with no clothes slung over it and drag it over towards the bed, tucking my dress between my knees and sitting down. 

The woman smiles at me, again, before turning back to her pillow and closing her eyes. “So, then,” she says. “Where might you be from?”

“The city,” I say. “My husband owns a store there.”

She hums. “What kind?”

My wedding ring is a comforting weight on my finger, even though I cannot recall ever putting it on this morning. It’s golden and simple, and surely enough to buy this house ten times over. “A hat shop at main square.”

The woman seems to think for a moment. “Might your husband be Arthur King?”

“Um,” I say, momentarily stunned. “I— yes. Do you know him?”

She shakes her head. “Not personally. You must be Mrs. King, then?”

“Shirley,” I say. “How do you know of my husband?”

She opens her eyes but does not stare at me. Gaze fastened on the wall in front of her, she says, “My daughter is a big fan of his work.” Her tone isn’t sombre, but distant. “Before I fell ill, I would take her to your shop and we would try out some of the hats together. Pretending to be nobles, and all that.”

I try to think back on all our customers throughout the years, but no face in my memory matches the woman. “Really?”

She laughs breathlessly. “Yes, but it was a long time ago. My daughter has long since moved away from here. Now it’s just my husband and I.”

I lean back in the chair and allow myself another inspection of the house. There’s a large, burly winter coat tossed over a chair and pushed away from the middle of the room, and an extra pair of winter shoes placed beside a smaller pair of worn sandals by the door.

“Is he not home?” I ask. 

The woman keeps smiling, but she gains an air of melancholy. “I’m sure you would know that better than I.”

I turn back towards her. “What do you mean?”

For the first time since I’d arrived, the woman turns to stare at me. She’s no longer smiling, and her vibrant eyes brim with pity. “It really is unfair,” she says, “to have to speak to me before the end. These days, my only company is the dead. I’m sorry.” 

The last part is spoken with such genuine grief that for a moment I think she might have been the one to kill me. But no, I remember him with clarity. Large and strong—this woman’s complete opposite. But grief and pity from an innocent and sickly woman is uncomfortable, so instead of anything wise, I only say “It’s alright. You mustn’t worry. This is just how things go.”

The woman scoffs, looking perturbed. “Have you no regard for your life, young lady? Someone so young should not have to die so pathetically, and then spend their final moments on Earth talking to this poor, sickly old woman. Your kindness is misplaced, let me tell you.”

“For what reason should I blame you?” I ask. This woman is pleasant, and kind, and reminds me a bit of my mother. I wouldn’t want her to worry over something worthless, like my demise. “I know who killed me, and it was certainly not you.”

“You don’t understand, my lady,” she says, brows furrowed in annoyance. “I also know who killed you.”

She opens her mouth to elaborate further but stops herself when the door to the shack swings wide open and another person enters. The summer day outside is blinding, and I cannot parse any landmark of note before the door shuts once again. In the entryway, removing his shoes with care I could never imagine from him, stands the large burly man who had ended my life, only a few hours prior. 

My mind recognises him as much as my body, and I feel the pain of his hands around my throat again. I can’t move. Has he come to end me again? Despite my body wanting nothing but, I stand and square my shoulders. My chair tips backwards and falls onto the floor. The man, despite the noise, does not react at all. 

The woman on the bed shares none of my urgency. With a tone the man is undeserving of, she says fondly, “My foolish husband.”

Her husband neatly places his shoes together beside the smaller sandals and then stands at his full height. He’s much taller than my husband, but his face is rounder and gentler. It surprises me—I do not remember him being neither round nor gentle. At the moment, he’d been sharper than my Arthur. This man looks nothing like the killer I know him to be.

His gaze travels across the shack and I stop breathing as it falls on me. Then, as though I were not there, his eyes continue trailing until they stop and rest on the bed. He breaks out into a smile that could rival the one my husband wears each morning, and my heart aches. 

He grabs the chair with the winter coat and places it beside the bed, in the space where I had just sat. My chair is no longer on the floor but has magically returned to the dinner table. He leans forward, hopping forward on the chair until his knees are pressed against the side of the bed. Then he gently clasps one of the woman's hands in his and presses it to his forehead.

“Eda,” he says, as fondly as the woman had called for him, “I’m sorry for being gone so long.”

The woman tuts. “You could have been gone a bit longer,” she says, but she smiles as she speaks. “Can’t you see I have company?”

The man does not react to her voice, lowering her hand to rest above the bed covers. “But I had good reason today,” he says, letting go of her hand and removing something from his pant pocket. He pulls out a small little thing that reflects the stray sunlight, and I have to lean forward to make out the shape of it. I recognise it like I had recognised him.

My wedding ring. My beautiful golden ring, from my beloved Arthur. The woman stares at it with untold grief. I stare at her with barely withheld rage. The man continues talking to his wife, but I spare little thought to his words. 

The woman’s entire body stills of breath and her shoulders slump. “My husband loves me very much,” she says, voice sullen. “And my health has left him confused and desperate. You are only one of many to have fallen for my sake, I’m afraid.”

I stare at her, clenching and unclenching my fists. I no longer feel the weight of my wedding ring around my finger. “And yet you turn a blind eye to his deeds?”

The woman sighs, eyes trained on her still-talking husband. “These days, I can barely stay awake long enough to eat, let alone talk to him. What am I to do? Forgive me my selfishness,” she says, glancing at me, “but I also want to live. I don’t know what else—” 

She falters, her words stopping short. Her gaze moves from me to the open palm of her hand lying in her lap. She splays out her fingers a little wider. Her husband keeps talking.

“Everyone wants to live,” she says. “I’m not unique in wanting that. And—I am sorry for the pain my foolish husband has caused you and your family. But…” Her gaze sharpens, and the vibrancy of her eyes make them almost shine. “These are our circumstances. I will live with these regrets until I die. And when I die, too, let your hatred go with it. If there comes a day when I can leave this bed, I swear I’ll make sure to let your husband know of everything.”

“Am I not allowed hatred for your husband?” I ask. I do not want to hate this woman.

The woman scoffs. “Allowed? Who cares about that? I’m asking you to hate me instead. I’ve put my husband through so much already. If your hatred is the one thing I can spare him, I will. Besides—” she tilts her head to the side, as though gazing out a window that isn’t there, “I’m sure someone else will come tomorrow, harbouring even more hatred. And I will ask them, too, to turn their wrath towards me. Not because I am deserving of it, but because I welcome it.”

She turns to me, eyes brilliantly green. “I wish for you to go quietly into the night. If that’s not something you’d like, forgive me. This is hard on all of us.”

“And yet, you live,” I scoff. 

“And yet,” the woman agrees, “I live. But not for long. If you have nothing else to say, the door is unlocked.”

Her husband stops his exhausting tirade, standing from his chair with glee. He pushes it back from the bed and staggers upward, crossing through the shack to the small makeshift kitchen, rooting through drawers. I stare, and I think.

I love my husband very much. I wonder if I will miss him in heaven. I wonder if he will miss me, stuck on Earth. Then, somewhat morbidly, I think: would he do all of this for me? 

Probably not. My husband is a dull man. Things pass through him like grains through a hand. If I were to fall ill, he would continue as always. Even now, I’m sure my passing won't be enough to deter him from living his life.

Momentarily, the thought angers me. Why not, I think. Why wouldn’t you do all of this for me? Do you not love me enough? But it is a foolish thought. I do not want my husband to fall apart for me. I would have liked to live a little bit longer, though, so he could have a portrait of me above the mantle. 

“Continue living,” I say, staring at her husband as though my words are for her. “And make sure my wedding ring sells for at least eight hundred sterlings. If your husband sells it for any lower, I’ll come back to haunt you until your final day.”

The woman laughs, fully from her chest. It rings clear and true, betraying her sickly appearance and scratchy voice. “That, at least, I can do. Thank you for your company, Shirley King.”

I know her name is Eda, but it does not feel right on my lips. Instead, I offer her a nod and then, without looking back, I walk across the room and open the door to the outside. 

It turns out when you die you don’t face your own God, but instead face the God of whomever or whatever killed you.

[milfbro]

I think about christopher lee doing that reading of the phantom of the opera so much

how many a bad writing is just the result of the writer having their own inner voice when reading the writing back that just doesn't translate to the next person?

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[dollgxtz]

Sleepy Crow

Word Count: 1.8k words

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!

AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333

Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.

As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.

He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.

Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.

Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.

The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.

Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.

Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.

But he couldn't.

He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.

How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.

Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.

This thought stirred in his head for a bit.

Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.

You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.

“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.

This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.

Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.

"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.

Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.

He had to have you. And he had to have you now.

He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.

"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.

As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.

"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.

He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.

"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.

His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.

As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.

"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”

Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.

"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.

[toska-writes]

Hello Toska!

I really enjoy reading your stories, they are really good! I see so many fanfics that swear, or have nasty stuff, but yours are good. I was wondering if you do requests? If so, could you do one with the Bad Batch (mostly Hunter and Crosshair) where the reader is a female Jedi? And the reader goes on a mission and risks their life to protect one of the Bad Batch but they get injured? Take as much time as you need, thank you for your time! :)

Yeah this may be from a few months ago…. But here we are

“Concussion Protocol”

Summary: concussions are risky business, and a certain “unconcerned” sniper makes sure everything this ok

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Platonic)

Warning: small mention of blood, throwing up I guess, nothing crazy

Word count: 1313 (I meant for this one to be a short blurb but whatever

Notes: I changed up the request a bit but it was just a small thing I wanted to write

The ringing was so loud. Though maybe it was so loud because everything else is so quiet. Or maybe you couldn’t hear anything else at all.

The only thing you did know is that if you kept thinking about this it would make your head hurt more than it already was.

And that was saying something. Your head felt like it weighed an extra 50 pounds as you were hunched over trying desperately to catch any breath and keep your head from hitting the floor.

Ringing, that’s all it was. For a moment you could hear your own thought and could have sworn something touched your shoulder.

You couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter at this point because in all honesty you couldn’t even tell where you are.

No no the something definitely touched your shoulder because it was a lot firmer this time. Your whole body shook with whatever was on your shoulder and if it wasn’t for something else grasping your other arm you definitely would have fallen over.

You looked over slightly, more even breaths rolled through you now, and finally something came into focus. A hand…. Oh that’s what was holding you up right now.

The shaky image of helmet comes into your view with a hand now place under your chin slightly lifting it up.

The way the helmet was moving you assumed the person hold be talking to you, it was either that or the world was spinning around you.

They looked familiar, whoever they were, but if you tried to think anymore you were pretty sure your head would pop right off. What did even happen? It was blurry looking back now.

Crosshair watched them for a moment, their eyes lost in thought finally trained back onto him but only for a moment before they drooped again.

He felt the growing weight of your face in his palm before you slumped over even more

“Okayyyy” He muttered more to himself since the calls of your name moments ago fell on deaf ears. The first thing Crosshair had to do was get you off of the battle field.

He was just lucky he saw you in time, the amount of now broken battle droids scattered around your unaware mind scared him. Scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I found them, I just need someone to cover me.” Crosshair spoke cooly into the comm, the panic rising in him however contradicted him.

A confirm from someone on the other side didn’t really matter to Crosshair at this moment, it mattered getting you to open your eyes again.

Finally the ringing died down, enough to recognize there was a voice coming from somewhere extremely close to you. It took a moment more to realize it was your name someone spoke.

The fight to open your eyes was hard. The dying light still hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust again.

“Hmmm?” Was all you could get out before you felt a thumb trace over part of your forehead.

It worried Crosshair of where this blood was coming from, he tried to keep in away from your mouth and eyes with his thumb for a moment.

The sound of blaster fire sounded closer to his head than he would have liked.

“Come on Crosshair go!” He heard hunter practically yell in his ear. Right he could worry about wiping your face later.

You felt yourself move off the ground slightly. Looking around you were about to protest to the person that you still couldn’t identify in your state, but the swirling world did not pair well with your head. This resulted in you quickly shoving your head towards the armored chest that held you.

A groan must have escaped your lips but a husked voice reassured you quickly. Wait no you definitely knew that voice, but for the love of maker a face nor name could make it to your brain.

A feeling did however, and it was warm in your chest- you had nothing to worry about if he was here.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to slur some words together without moving your head too much.

“Towards the Marauder.” He spoke clearly to you, no more ringing seemed to disrupt your hearing. “Can you tell me what that is?”

The question struck you as odd for a moment. Of course you knew what the Marauder was….right? That didn’t stop you from thinking for a moment before you responded with “… a ship?”

“I’m actually impressed” was all that came from whoever held you as he started to slow down more. You couldn’t tell with your eyes closed when your surroundings changed but a quick tap to your check and you opened your eyes to the inside of a ship.

“Is this…” you started, a limp hand gestured around before returning with a thump to your lap. “ the Marauder.

The figure now crouched in front of you with on hand keeping you sitting straight up nodded once before reaching with his other hand a removing his helmet.

“Can you remember anything else?” He spoke softly and slowly to you, but you didn’t answer.

The man had a tattoo over his eye, one that caught your attention immediately.

You knew who that was. A smile broke across your lips and a small laugh forced its way through your mouth. A shaky hand of yours reached out to the side of his face with the tattoo. He let it happen and watched your face hoping for any recognition.

“Crosshair.” Finally something you remembered

The man, now you were sure was Crosshair, nodded ever so slightly again but the smirk was prominent in his features.

“I’m going to clean your head ok?” He rasped.

The smile couldn’t be swiped from your face either as you continued to smile at him. “Crosshair.” You spoke again. Just like the first time it wasn’t a question, you were sure.

He hummed as a response before pushing you back slightly and dampening a rag as he still was crouched on the floor.

“I’m tired.” It was the first and only thing you were thinking about or could think about. The pounding in your head and the swirling of the world was becoming too much.

“You just have to wait a few seconds for me ok?” The cool ragged touch your face and surprisingly didn’t burn. “I just have to make sure nothing too serious is going on up there.” He poked the middle of your forehead with his finger.

Crosshair deemed his work satisfactory enough when he could finally locate one of the many cut along your forehead. Grimacing at it he decided that it would definitely need stitches.

But you didn’t have to know that right now. “All done.” His nimble hands returned to your shoulders pulling you up. Your eyes once again opened, though you couldn’t fall asleep since Crosshair did anything in his power for you to keep talking to him.

“Is it nap time?” He almost couldn’t make out your words for a moment before he took your face in and sigh.

“Don’t tell Tech, but yeah I think you deserve a nap time.” Crosshair still planned to scan for more injury’s but could letting you sleep change a lot?

Before he knew it your body leaned forward and quickly crashed into his own, your head found its stop between his shoulder plate and his neck perfectly.

The words were soft now muffled into his skin but he could nearly make out “Thanks Crosshair.” The voice faded out towards the end but that what brought the smile back to his face.

Thought he was sure they would never hear it again small “ Of course ad’ika” was muttered into the air before he scooped the padawan up into his arms once again to move them someplace more comfortable.

————————————————————

If you want to be added to the Taglist let me know!

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[olderthannetfic]

A common argument I see against constructive or negative opinions (even in For Readers spaces now apparently 🙄) is that they crush people's dreams of being a writer.

And like. I have diagnosed issues with rejection sensitivity, so sharing my work publicly was extremely difficult for me at first. But it was just something I had to get through if I wanted to be a writer. When I was in a university level creative writing class, I was stunned that they wasted a seminar teaching us stuff like you're/your and there/their/they're until I noticed that my classmates found it really useful. I realised 00s fandom taught me better grammar than the actual official school system, say nothing of charactisation, voice, pacing, etc. There were a LOT of resources to help new writers understand writing 101 and avoid annoying mistakes/cliché plots, which you don't really see anymore. I honestly feel like I got an expensive years long creative writing course for free.

And even as a melodramatic and oversensitive tween, I always had the attitude that I wanted my writing to be good, so if people pointed out typos or grammar mistakes I'd just thank them, fix it and remember for next time??? I never once felt "bullied" by legitimate criticism: as someone who actually was bullied a lot IRL, 00s fandom was actually one of the few spaces where I felt comfortable and safe. Whereas tbh I don't always feel comfortable with this modern culture where fanfic writers demand comments in return for creating "content" "for free" but setting strict demands for what kind of comments they want to receive. (And ofc it's for free! It's not their intellectual property!)

Which is all to say, if someone telling you "hey, maybe consider adding paragraph breaks" makes you want to quit writing forever then maybe you didn't actually want to be a writer all that much.

--

I think people mix a whole bunch of dissimilar things.

If you go to art/film/etc. school, you'll need to get used to group critique. It's partly about advice, but a lot of it is about toughening you up for future situations where your audience is not going to care about why a work isn't up to their standards. I think some of these practices actually can be pretty damaging. It really depends on the professor to make them constructive.

A key element is that people who are going through that are usually supposed to already have some experience and be pretty committed, so they aren't going to shrivel up and quit.

When I was a little baby writer, I was indeed pretty sensitive. Even while trying to finish the first draft of a novel, I need cheerleading or maybe goading to put my ass in a chair. The hard part is getting the words out, not making them good. So a lot of negative shit, even if well meant and useful, would just be discouraging.

But...

There's a big difference between having no interest in back seat driving from AO3 comments and opposing all review-ish conversation anywhere, whether it's bookmarks or discord servers or other archives that have more of a culture of reviews than of comments for the author.

I think you can want to improve but not want to do it via AO3 comments. You should still leave readers to do their thing outside of your comments though. Analyzing or reviewing can be a big part of someone's own fannish activity—a positive and fun hobby for them, not just an excuse to yell at the writer.

[multi-fandom-hyperchondriac]

Being new to the IT fandom is kinda nice and funny but like the fanfics I've read, this is literally what I have to say about like the stuff, it's all good I promise. I will probably update this as I read more but this is a good place to start 😂

Things I adore or want more of in mainly reddie fanfics/oneshots. (This is mainly adult reddie/losers)

Eddie or Richie being taken by pennywise instead of Bev, I love that shit and I need more of it.

Stan, fucking Stan okay, anytime he is alive I live for the witty comments, the suffered eye rolls he makes, poor guy cannot get a break.

Bill writing about what they experienced and making the characters the losers obviously like I love all the creative names people give the book in some of those ones.

Patty and Richie friendship, I just... It's so good, I've read a few and like I need more, also Stan jokingly regretting having them meet is an added bonus.

The losers group chat and Mike sending so many pictures of where he is travelling to next, it's very wholesome.

Eddie still having his risk job or getting a medical license but becomes a slight internet troll on twitter and everyone loves him for it, and yes the losers can practically feel the heart eyes Richie is making.

While Reddie obliviously pine for each other fucking Bill and Mike end up sorting shit out with each other quicker than them, it's hilarious, it's beautiful.

Bev and Eddie making a support group for their divorces, it's really sweet and I love it.

Time loop fics or time travel fics, gimme more of that shit I'm kinda addicted okay.

Ben being a sweetheart, nothing else, I needed to show my love for pure sweet Ben.

Beverley just being proud of her boys, they are her losers and she loves them.

Richie talking about Eddie in his comedy shows and Eddie surprising him by being in the audience.

The turtle.... No I will not elaborate, I think we all know what I mean.

I want more reversal, like happy ending but Richie was the one stabbed through the chest, I just like reading Eddie's internal monologue.

GIVE ME MORE OF EDDIE BEING THE NAVIGATOR OF THE GROUP PLEASE!

[frango-maconheiro]

wow, wow, interaction.

also, there's a stupid meaningless ramble i made out of this incredible petpeeve of mine with EW x reader stuff and it's just down the cut sggkjdfjkk (it's fr just me being extremely salty)

Anyway, hello!

Haha, my curious and lonely ass really thought it was a clever idea to read 'eddsworld x reader' content because it spawned in my timeline.... thinking that maaaybe they actually got good at it and made not too ooc stuff (this is heeeeaavily on matt content)

Now, i am profoundly remorseful of that choice because when i wrote this hours ago woth no wifi, i was arguing with the air.

Like, i won't lie on this. EW x reader.. They have evolved, a loooot since those 2017 fanfics (why were the x yn fics from eddsworld all copy-paste back then???) actually, it really surprised me because i definitely don't have the most cool memories of such fanfics,, Buuuuut, they still have that STUPID FAVORITISM. IT'S SO DAMN APPARENT. YOU THINK WE CAN'T SEE IT???

i get madder from down this line, especially since i was veery hungry when writing this. That's why you should always stay fed, keeps you slightly happier.

nhamnhamnhamm, writes aaall cool stuff for edd, tom 'n tord... maybe with an ooc here and there, but enough to ignore,, but matt? Matt gets so ooc, he can be mistaken for an oc if no name is given.

like,,, did.. did we watch the same dude on screen? i know he was pretty neglected in content, but cmon, what is that?? He's practically a romance repellent with his stupidity (said affectionately)

it's the same 'pipipipopopo just a sweet mama's boy' and 'ooo, he's sooo romantic, look at how much of gentleman he is compared to otheeeers' and 'whaao he so silly ::3 *treats him as if he weren't an adult character' and so much more, all in this weird stereotype

I guess i'm just disappointed,,, all because he just, idk, still feels downright boring compared to how the other 3 are written in these kind of fanfics even thought it's 2024 already and not still 2017-2020 (don't even get me started on the weird fixation on making yn extremely specific which fr also makes me crawl away like a wet cat from EW reader interactive content, they don't even put tags of the gender, aaaaaargh).

y'all definitely have more content of him to write than just the saturation of him painting your nails, or going shopping, or acting like he's the center of the world 24/7, or making him the pure lil' angel, or having his memory issues being downplayed as him acting 'so silly lil' silly', i assure you.

When i tell you i got so invested in this useless anger i mean that i got compelled into writing down a bunch of matt x reader to try and give that man a cooler image,,, and i don't even see him that way (nor any of the characters.) , but GOD ARGHHHV I NEED JUSTICE FOR HIM.

i might be just a lil' hot headed while writing this whole stuff, but this bro got stripped out of BOTH his classic and his modern funky personality in 99% of these fanfics and nobody bats an eye, like, ever, unless they're another fan of the character. Free my ginger rat, pleeeeaaaaseee.

I need any weirdo, edgy, funky, unusual, vampire, zombie(heavily on you zombie matt my beloved), slasher, funny, whack matt written content that is not only interactive BUT friendly to all readers...

i don't even care what Matt is written, modern, or classic. Both types have their own weirdo charm, and i am willing to analyze them for a nice oneshot or spitball post.... where you don't get to a restaurant/picnic and receives flowers and it ends like that, without any more depth of such cute cliche fluff it is, and leaving you like you just licked off the scraps of a dessert from a plate given to you, so damn hungry 'n wishing you had eaten an actual dessert instead of whatever that was.

[bonesandthebees]

HOW DO YOU WRITE SO WELL

like, the general way you write omfg i was hoping to get some tips since i want to get into the type of writing you do (idk the name lol)

your fics have just not left my mind at all and i wanna learn how you make them stick

aw thank you that's so sweet! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories :D

as for your question, I always say this and it's not really the 'fun' answer or the one that people want to hear but the truth of the matter is that I got good at writing by writing. a lot. I've been writing on a near daily basis since I was 13 or so. I started writing original stories, but later when I was 15 I got into fanfic and really thrived using that as writing practice. regardless of whether or not you post what you write, just the act of putting words down is going to help you. whether that be rewriting movie scenes with your favorite blorbos or coming up with the most self indulgent fluffy stuff that you never want to see the light of day, or plotting out massively expansive stories with grand plots and worldbuilding, no matter what it is it's going to help you gain a natural sense for rhythm and word choice and all that stuff.

besides practicing writing, reading is also very helpful for improving your writing. and I don't mean reading fanfic. while of course there is some amazing fanfiction out there, you do actually need to read published novels as well. now I'm not saying you have to go out and read the entire book list from your 9th grade english class (although classic novels are incredibly important and beneficial to read), but just read any books. try to branch out into new genres. if you're only interested in reading YA romance, sure go for it, but once you get in the swing of reading regularly you should look for recommendations in other genres. there are a ton of lists online that will tell you "if you like X book then you'll love Y-" so try to find those. don't limit yourself to books only meant for one demographic. you'll get the most benefit for your writing from reading widely and seeing how many different types of authors do things. you can pick apart different writing styles and figure out what you like about each, then try to emulate that in your own work. do you like when descriptions are kept short but use very vivid language? try doing that in your own writing when setting a scene. do you like when a characters thought process starts rambling on and on for multiple paragraphs, really giving the reader a sense of their inner mind? try doing that yourself.

experiment! practice! have fun with it! write what you want and try not to get too caught up in what's going to 'get popular' or anything because then you'll just make yourself miserable if you don't get the hits you want. of course that's easier said than done but try your best to hold onto the mindset of writing for yourself first and foremost. make the stories you want to read.

hope that helps!

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

I need to know your exact thought process while writing In My Restless Dreams right now🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

hope ur prepared to hear me yap LMAO

i take characterization very seriously so thats always at the forefront of my mind, i want it to feel believable even if it falls under the umbrella of an au.

giovannis a really interesting character to me, as much as i make homophobic goose jokes, his mindset is genuinely rly thought provoking. squeaks knows how to write nuanced characters, i see no reason he would stop at gio. but as of rn i can only speculate

branching off that, this fic is basically a fun way for me to study the character dynamics, esp bucky and gio and bucky and walter, but i dont want the other guys to get left in the dust, which is why i included that scene with stumbler in chapter 3. chapter 7 and 8 especially are gonna go in depth with olive, stumbler and wulf.

imagery/immersion is something i feel like i could improve at, so i try and do little practice one shots and studying my fav writers (both fanfics and normal literature)

i also wanna pace the story well so theres enough suspense to keep people reading, but not too much that its just a bunch of cliffhangers with no substance. i wanna have fun writing, but i also hold myself to a pretty high standard, for better or worse lol

i dont rly do rough drafts? i make a bulleted list of plot points, and then i just. write from there. i usually read it back the next day to fix typos and formatting and stuff. but other than that i just try and go with the flow.

all in all i wanna do the little guys justice, especially bucky, hes a rly special character to me. i have a nightmare written out that i really wanna fit into the story, as well as a pretty big plot point with gio that im still tinkering with. i'm rly glad people are vibing with it ^^

buckle up though, it gets much much worse before it gets better. :)

[bedlamsbard]

how would you rate the MCU's use of alternate realities so far? as someone who's done that before and done it well, imo

oh, terrible, there hasn't been one version of it yet that I think has been done well. there are, for example, individual What If episodes that I've liked, but by and large those haven't been the episodes that have contributed to the wider What If plot (which I think is done very poorly and is designed to drive me, personally, insane). DSMOM didn't handle its alternate realities well, Loki S1 (I haven't seen S2) obviously rewired my brain but then I didn't really like how they handled most of the season, and the stinger at the end of The Marvels -- well, it's a stinger, you know? it doesn't tell us anything until we get the next thing. and that's it, right? in the greater MCU? I might be missing something, but unless we're counting the Quantumania post-credits that I'm pretty sure Marvel is trying to ignore in pure panic about the Jonathan Majors situation there's not actually anything...wait, I forgot about Spider-Man: No Way Home.

As a movie I think it's basically fine, but it (and to a lesser extent Loki) set up a precedent that I think the MCU is really struggling with in its treatment of alternate universes, which is whether alternate versions of mainline MCU characters (for various reasons I really dislike the term variant, so I don't use it) should be played by the same actors. and the fact that the MCU doesn't know how to deal with this is a big problem, way more so on a fundamental level than the whole cameo deal. because the thing is, they need the name and face recognition of the known actors -- on a practical level, because that's the person that the audience is attached to, which is why they can cheat by doing what NWH (and, I'm assuming, Deadpool & Wolverine, which I haven't seen yet) does and use actors/characters from older Marvel non-MCU films; at least some of the audience already knows them. like, am I going to be attached to a MCU Steve Rogers that isn't played by Chris Evans or a Natasha Romanoff that isn't played by Scarlett Johansson? honestly, no -- and I know this because I don't have emotional reactions to the animated versions of the characters, whether in What If? or in non-MCU Marvel animated stuff; I literally don't register them as the same character. I register them as a Nat or Steve, but not the Nat or Steve.

(sidebar: this may partially just be my issue, I'm super aural; going back to my SW days I don't register the TCW versions of the PT characters as the same characters either. as a Anakin or Obi-Wan or Padme, but not the same Anakin or Obi-Wan or Padme. my tolerance for this sort of thing is considerably lower now than it was during my SW days, partially because of how SW has handled the animation-live action transition. some of that has spilled over into how I process the MCU. no, I'm not thrilled about it either and I'm not going to poke to see how much, I just know that it's there.)

NWH and Loki both cast different actors as different versions of the same character, and then DSMOM and The Marvels didn't (Loki actually did both, tbh, and Quantumania rode its coattails) and now here we are. I think Marvel really does not know how to deal with this; on one level, it's just straight-up confusing to the audience. And that kind of kicks over into my other issue with how they've been dealing with alternate universes, which is a completely different way than how most fanfic writers deal with alternate universes. And by most fanfic writers I mean me, though I'm absolutely not the only fic writer who does this.

it's the "what is an AU" problem.

so I write what I call single point divergence AUs -- what if one thing (big or small) changes and various consequences cascade from that. I'm very, very strict about this. I use the same base worldbuilding for every universe, I use the same consistent rules of the MCU up until whatever my divergence point is, everything else in that universe is the same unless the difference can be linked back to that original divergence point. (I also have an internal MCU divergence point where I treat anything from canon after that point as weak canon at best, because I am genuinely convinced that there's an in-universe split even if Marvel never confirms this.) I'm very serious about this. I know the canon that I work with inside and out; if I have to choose between two contradicting pieces of canon, because Marvel has contradicted itself a few times, I will go with what I think makes the most logical sense based on all of the other evidence around it. I have thought everything through backwards, forwards, and sideways because I want that AU and its consequences to be rock solid. I don't do "wouldn't it be neat if --" unless I can back it up because otherwise it won't hold water for me. I will always see the weak spots and they'll always make me nuts; it will not be structurally sound for me and I can't work with that. I'm a little more extreme about it than your average fic writer, but many writers do single point divergence AUs, because most fic writers actually care a lot about canon. which is why they're writing fanfic about it!

the actual MCU does not do that. the actual MCU does a combo of "wouldn't it be neat if --" and "wouldn't it be fucked up if --" but with only the barest groundwork or support. I will fight What If in a Waffle House parking lot, because WI masquerades as single point divergence but is actually "wouldn't it be neat if --" Specifically designed to drive me, personally, insane. NWH also does "wouldn't it be neat if --" but at least they were sincere about it, I don't think DSMOM actually thought about it at all. With What If it's incredibly obvious what they thought was stupid in the mainline MCU.

they're also using the alternate universes as a shortcut to bring in non-mainline MCU characters and properties and frankly I hate that because I think it's weakening what the MCU's greatest strength has always been.

anyway, this is a lot of rambling and I'm not sure I actually came to a coherent point anywhere, but yeah. the MCU's treatment of alternate universes makes me really sad and a little upset, because I love alternate universes and treated well they're devastating. but the MCU -- and this is actually true for comics as well -- does not handle them the same way most fic writers do. in fact, the only genre that handles AUs the way that most fic writers (who are doing divergence, either single point or otherwise, not like...coffeeshop AUs) do is alternate history. which is why I always say that historical fiction is the closest genre to fanfiction.

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

This poll is still active, I just want to say I feel like it is so incredibly sad that the majority of fanfiction authors (myself included) feel the need to keep their art entirely or mostly anonymous.

There is SO MUCH TALENT out there, on AO3 and beyond. Stuff that is heart-breaking, Earth-shattering, and so much better than a lot published material you might find on bookstore shelves. Fanfiction authors should be proud.

I know everyone has their own nuanced reason for anonymity online, but, at least for me, it centers around the general perception that fanfiction is "cringe". There's a lot of people in my life I would LOVE to share my work with, but I know it won't be well-received simply because it is fanfiction (versus an original story). Knowing I write fanfiction would probably change some people's opinions of me, and that really sucks.

I would rather most people see me naked than read my fanfics, which is wild to consider. My husband (bless him) is the only person who knows my AO3 pseud, and he reads everything.

He also sees me naked pretty regularly.

But anonymity is part of fanfiction culture, and maybe the reasoning behind it isn't inherently sad? Maybe maybe it allows writers a safe space to explore their own craft, take risks, stretch themselves, and still gauge the reaction of their readers. And anyways, writing behind a pseudonym is an age-old practice.

Guess it's time for another poll:

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Weird thing probably, but I want to give it a try.

An hommage to all "I, personally, think Zuko is hotter than Aang, so Katara obviously would think the same" that's been said ever because if they think they can do something like it, so can I.

I moved to the other country for studies and for work several years ago, leaving all my family and friends (got new ones, good ones, but still). And I like a lot of things here, some of them are better than in my homeland. Some things I don't like, they are worse, or just "not for me". And whenever I read a zutara fic, when I still had enough hope to do it, I thought about Katara's experience with moving to the Fire Nation, which is a pretty common thing there. First, there are no things she does not like. Some social unjustice - well, of course, she must confront the nobility and have saintZuko supporting her to show the readers how perfect and amazing he is - but the cuisine, the climate, the customs, the holidays, all this stuff? She's completely fine, she likes everything and gets used to heat and spices very quickly if she even needs to get used to it at all (I still have problems with both these things here).

I can come visit my homeland one or two times a year. Guess Katara would have been in a similar situation, because zutara insist that Fire Ladies have a lot of responsibilities with internal affairs - your rules, guys, she cannot leave very often in this case.

I can contact my family and friends any day - write to them and see if they are online and read it, and get immediate answer, or call them and hear their voices, or make a video call and see their faces and the stuff they want to show me, or exchange photos and videos. Katara would not have such luxury, the messenger hawks don't fly that fast, and she can only write or wait until her friends come around (good thing Aang has Appa, and the Fire Nation has these balloons, but it's still slower and more rare that a video call through internet, and ships are even slower).

I am lucky enough to have some people of the same origin as me here - not a diaspora, but there are many of them, I often hear people speaking my mother tongue on the streets, I can find some products that I remember since childhood, I have someones to share cultural practices with, etc. Katara is often completely alone in the fics, she doesn't have many (if any) Water People to talk to, and the only Water Tribe things around her are the ones she took with herself while moving. And, not going to pretend, I am not as devoted to my culture as Katara is (partly because I am not the last waterbender and my homeland was not raided for decades I guess) - I love it, but she obviously loves hers more; it just means more to her.

I chat with my sibling almost constantly, about every little thing, we only stop if we're really busy or asleep (and we still miss each other). Katara also has people whom she's super close to. She does not have my luxury.

Granted, I do not have a romantic partner to be crazy in love with, but even if I had, they would not replace my friends and relatives, and all the things that I miss. If anything, I would be sad sometimes because being in love, being happy with someone is another wonderful experience I cannot share immediately with the people who are dear to me.

And we're down to the bottom line - who of us misses their homeland and all the stuff that made it "home", their family, their friends? Me, who has internet connection to talk any moment to any person I want; who has a company talking the same language, watching the same catoons when they were little, walking the same streets as me while growing up; who can just come and buy some food exactly like in the supermarket next to my family's apartment back home? Or Katara in zutara fanfics, living in the Fire Nation, having much stronger connection to her home than I do and much less options to be close to it in any way?

Judging by my experience with zutara fanfiction, the answer is always me. Not once have I read about Katara's experience with moving to Fire Nation and think "yes, that's how you feel leaving your home, even if you have a good reason, even if you are in a good place". More often it was like "okay, you're saying, for example, that Katara missed Sokka - where exactly did she do it, again? He wasn't mentioned once before that line". Why every time I read a zutara fanfic I felt like I miss my home more than Katara does in this fic? Much, much more! Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't it be at least the same? Like, okay, not everyone has this experience to describe it realistically, with all small details - but the authors are not even trying! They write Katara as not caring about the home she left, and I don't get it! Isn't her devotion to save her culture, to learn waterbending, best from a real southern waterbender, one of important, core, traits in her personality?

So, my take is: "I, personally, miss my home a lot, despite being happy in the place that I chose and not regretting my decision, and, comparing our sutuations, if Katara moved to the Fire Nation, she would have missed hers at least as much as I miss mine". Just as valid as their takes about preferring Zuko over Aang, I'll take no criticism.

She never does. She never actually misses anything. Even if the South Pole in the fic is told to be a fine place with good memories for Katara and not some misogynic oppressive hell.

They screwed up her character, big time, and it pained me every time I saw it.

I looooooooove using zutarians' weird "my experiences are universal, actually, so Katara MUST feel the same" against them, so congrats anon, you did it perfectly.

"Granted, I do not have a romantic partner to be crazy in love with" What a coincidence since, in these Fire Lady Katara fics, neither does Katara - after all, she never loved Zuko.

[firendgold]

I always block the Manipulative Albus tag obviously but I also always want to block the Good Albus tag because I mean… isn’t that a given? That’s like having a Good Harry Potter tag… like, no shit. Fork found in kitchen.

Like yeah he made some tough decisions but his intentions were good. And, imo, if the information, skills and power were placed in anyone else’s hands - whether it be McGonagall or Kingsley or even Harry himself (as Inverse elucidates)- they would have struggled and failed to do better.

Also like… the Grindelwald stuff was literally a century ago when Dumbledore was practically a child. Why are we so generous towards Regulus Black who probably literally butchered muggles and muggleborns but we can’t forgive Albus who was lower-class, had an insanely difficult homelife and likely faced otherization and racism for having a Native American, muggleborn mother. I think if you can forgive anyone for being radicalised against muggles, you can forgive the teenage boy who eventually lost his mother, his father and his sister because of an anti-Wizard/Witch hate crime.

Ugh.

Most people don't bother to look into Albus' deeper history—and by that I mean the stuff we knew even before Pottermore and Fantastic Beasts and the outside interviews. All of the information about Albus' past is in Deathly Hallows, his race and social status and circumstances—all right there for people to read. But that cements Albus's status as a good but complex character so bashers ignore it or downplay it. And I in turn ignore them.

To your point about the 'good Albus' tag, I think you have to consider what you said first about the manipulative Albus tag. It is so ubiquitous. In just the six years or so since I got back into HP fanfic and fandom, the amount of dumb people who think Albus is manipulative/evil/shady has not decreased. It has quadrupled if anything. Even when using the tag that's supposed to be about Albus and Harry's positive relationship, there are at least 80 fics right now on AO3 that have that tag or similar. You have to block it all to stay sane.

But EVEN if you block the manipulative/evil/greater good tags, lots of other people will write fics about Albus with neither a good nor manipulative tag, but then their Albus Dumbledore will still be wrong. He will be manipulative and want to control everyone, will be untrustworthy for "some" reason not ever quite explained to the reader, will still be pining after Grindelwald and worshipping at the altar of the 'Greater Good' even after age 17. So unfortunately no, 'Albus is a good person' is still not a given in this fandom. The incorrect takes have so deeply permeated the meta discussions that it is very easy to find fics without any labels that honestly need the manipulative tag, even though the authors would probably argue you down about how "problematic" Albus is if you engaged them in dialogue.

(Example necessary probably, but just try to find a Harry/Hermione fic where Hermione doesn't randomly bash Dumbledore and act like she, a teenager or twenty-something, knows better than him, even though canon Hermione had the correct takes about Dumbledore the entire series. Check and I guarantee you that a good portion of them won't even tag manipulative Dumbledore, especially if it's a post-war fic and he's not alive. Incorrect takes abound. :'/)

I think the people who use the Good Albus tag know that water is wet just like you and I do. They know Albus is—well, really morally gray in many aspects, but a good person overall. But these authors are saying, "there has to be some counterbalance. People reading my fics should know that I am presenting the character as he is, and not as I presume him to be".

I personally haven't used the Good!Albus tag because my fics are meant to counter those many false-advertising fics out there that don't tag "I think Albus is as evil and/or controlling as Voldemort" but say that anyway when I try to read them.

As for Regulus Black... don't look at me lol. I think he's an intriguing character—or was before the 'marauders fandom' got their hands on him—but he's not moving any mountains in my fanverse just because his elf was threatened and his feelings got hurt. I'll stick to focusing on Albus.

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/749680765765337088/a-food-but-in-this-context-it-doesnt-really#notes

Ohhh, it's good to have a term for this. Out of curiosity, what would you say is the line between like.... not whitewashing a character, reflecting their culture, not just Writing Them Like a White Person.... vs. giving into these kinds of stereotypes?

I'm in a fandom with a prominent MENA character who is one of the more popular characters in fanfic, and this character largely isn't defined around "his culture" in the canon. A lot of people see this as a problem to correct. I think sometimes that they could do some thinking for why a non-white character needs to be "close to their culture" and they don't similarly do this for white characters who come from specific countries, but I get that some of this is coming from people from that background who want to see themselves represented better in media and are tired of their culture being erased. To me the difference between what I've seen in fic from those people reflecting their real-world experiences (or also, non-MENA people who are more informed) is that there's an awareness of how modern culture is not the same as traditional culture, and how most real people do some picking and choosing of what practices they embrace and which they are could do without. The stuff where you can tell it's an ignorant person trying to be "progressive" but just being Orientalist is when they feel like they have to check off every single box for what it is to be "Middle Eastern" to them, and all those boxes just so happen to coincide with media stereotypes. I was wondering if you thought that was the line too or if you also had some other ideas about how to avoid the "space tamales" thing.

--

The biggest help is just to write a three-dimensional character with internal motivations that make sense. A decent amount of stereotypical tripe is the result of weak writing skills. But yes, thinking there's one specific standard for a group and needing them to be very different and marked is a lot of the issue.

The space!tamales problem shows up heavily when people do things like conflate completely different cultures (Latin America has more than just Mexico in it) and when they completely ignore canon to graft on what they think of as "authentic" (many canons set in space are not actually set in the future of our earth, and the ones that are are often set many centuries in the future when cultures will have changed).

The equivalent would be the Old Guard fandom thinking that people from the Crusades era are going to strongly identify with the modern cultures from their places of origin. I mean, they might... if they've been living there lately... But that's certainly not the only possible interpretation, and they're absolutely not going to be equivalent to a current 30-something from there.

[nicegaai]

im attempting my fic reread today. im announcing this bc i will be liveblogging to keep my morale up, NOT THAT anyone cares but i personally need this, like ill only commit to do the thing if theres an imaginary audience holding me accountable. & i like to have fun :3

anyway. captains log, its a beautiful sunny july weekend. i just finished my morning coffee, and, i am dreading this so much. i dont like rereading my own writing but i shall get over it. ok here we go.

Þetta Reddast vagueblogged directors commentary edition

Ch 1:

*opens fic and starts convulsing immediately* god i wish i smoked weed rn. i cannot chill out ever for the life of me

My Mission For Today Is: to remember what plot threads I’ve left hanging so I can resolve this story properly. And also try n remember where the flow is going. I have the end plotted out, I just am a little lost … it’s been a while :-(

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

Abrupt beginning!!!! I’m not mad because I have . I HAD. Almost no writing experience when I started this. it isn’t ideal but I refuse to be one of those fanfic writers that starts rewriting early chapters without finishing the last ones. Ive never seen one of those types actually finish a longfic. …I’d already rather yap than actually read LMAO AHH

Oh this is worse than I remember. thats cool that s great ok alright *coughs up blood*

"20 somethings" WOW I really did not know where I was going with this when I started huh

LKJSDLKSJDLGKGDJSLDGJK ??? Who authorized this. Who let me cook. What the hell

I could write this better now. I could edit this into something beautiful. <- devil on my shoulder

FORGOT I WAS MAKING RICE BRB

"generously offered nothing to the exchange." wait STOPPPP. I’m so funny

GRAMMAR ERROR DETECTED why is there two periods. I’ll be coming back to fix that …………………. :-(((

Fuck. This is a lot. Marge Simpson Hiding Her Face dot Png

Oh this is stupid this is gayyy this is fukcinnn . Who fucking did t his. What was wrong with me,. This is so good actually. what was i ONNNN. 

Im gonna throw up and I don’t know if thats like/. A complimentary thing or if im just cringing that hard . Im feeling emotions. I love my OTPs..OT3~5? I love them so so much

Ok as much as im like “eww bad writing” this is .. dare I say, rly good in places. Not to suck my own dick but maybe all hope isnt lost and imposter syndrome is an illusion

Grammar mistake #2. Goddddddd. they should ban me from the archive for this

EMILLLLL EMIL EMIL EMIL HIIIIII BABYYYY EMILLL I LOVE UUUU AWWHUUGHH everyone clap for my bewoved baby bruvver right FUCKING now

Urghhh gritting my teeth… Im fully expecting the flow of events to start not making any gd sense. There’s no way this came together the way I hoped in my head and .... For real I was never able to read this all the way thru. this is my first time, lol. and it was all disjointed on the authorial end to say the least. Im scared T-T

Jlxjvklsdkjfsjlkdkjlsjklkljzsdkjlgaskljdgjklasljkgdljkasljkdgjklasjlkdgljkaskljdgjakl?????????? 

Im not liking the ratio of dialogue to whatever the other stuff is. scene-setting I guess. prose maybe. i could have dragged this out way longer... By which I mean made it a more satisfying read. But WHATEVER !!!! 

TIMO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIMOOOOOOOOOO NUMERO UNOOOO DO MUNDOOOOOO I really need to utilize him more. As soon as I finish this fic I need to write a Timo POV spinoff where he gets cancelled on furry twitter for proshipping in real life

Hmmmm chapter ending didn’t hit as hard in practice as it did in drafts. Oh well. God damn that was a lot to happen in one chapter LMAOO???

OH SHIT MY RICE IS STILL COOKING ——