#i really want to get my writing mojo up and running again

[letgraysonsheart]

im gonna be crazy and try to write drabbles for every song on my spotify wrapped

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[sweet-art-o-mine]

HI POOKS EBTUI5JEVTJWGUESN

Is it okay to request some Yuuji x chubby reader ff? I dont really mind if it's smut or fluff, but it would br nice if it's both! TANKEW KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK MWAH

[[I’m so sorry this is like a billion years (9 months oops—) late. I got sad again, gang. Also started college again, and got super busy. I’m writing this like a fever dream at 3am, so I hope you can forgive any mistakes, or ooc moments. This idea was surprisingly difficult because I didn’t want to make it seem like size was an issue for the characters, and I don’t usually include body size indicators when I write haha but I really did try. I hope you can enjoy this little drabble of Yuuji being a total sap for his pretty gf while I get my writing mojo back! - Ami]]

Loverboy (Yuuji Itadori/Reader)

Summary: Yuuji loves his pretty girlfriend…maybe a little too much? Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: NSFW (slightly), slight implied affectionate obsession

There was something about the plush thick of your thighs that practically had Yuuji salivating. His hands run the expanse of your soft tummy, cuddled up to your side like he was glued to you, but his eyes focus in on the little glimpses he catches of your legs under your shorts.

His teeth sink into the skin of his bottom lip, wishing he was brave enough to try and pull you impossibly closer - to grip you by the dip in your thighs and slot himself between your legs for the comfiest cuddle in the world.

The thought of your weight pressing down on him sounded so comforting, and the idea of your soft skin against his own could send him into orbit. If he thought about it for too long, he worried he wouldn’t be able to keep himself under control.

He swallows thickly after another failed attempt to rip his attention away from your bottom half, completely unsuccessful at paying attention to the movie you picked out. I mean, honestly, how could you expect him to watch some silly drama when your cute ass was literally right there? Looking at you was way more interesting than any movie.

He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to that first date with him almost six months ago. He had almost fallen down a flight of stairs chasing after you just to beg for your number. He would’ve groveled at your feet for a chance, honestly. He balked when you turned him down at first - if you looked closely enough, you could probably see his heart shattering into a million pieces - but his invitation to the tiny, family-owned movie theater in the next town over wasn’t the most comfortable date idea.

As much as you liked the idea of getting to know the guy who nearly cried when the words, “sorry, but…” left your pretty lips, the theater chairs were too small and dug into the flesh of your thighs, or the arm rests pressed against your sides in a way that had you constantly shifting to at least feel a little less squished.

Thankfully he seemed to catch on pretty quickly, because he almost instantly suggested coffee instead (after pulling himself together). To which, you agreed.

And nearly half a year later, Yuuji was still obsessed with you; the curve of your hips, the softness of your tummy, and the squish of your thighs. God, you were perfect.

He slides his arms a little further around your waist, pulling you closer with practiced ease, like you weighed nothing. He presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, unable to properly put his feelings into words, even now. But that was okay, he had always been particularly good at showing it.

“Hm?” You hum to get his attention, eyes never leaving the TV screen as you question his sudden display of affection. The only answer you get is another kiss to the round of your shoulder, and you turn your head to glance back at him, letting your curiosity get the better of you. “Yuuji?”

“Sorry,” He mumbles against your skin, pressing a few other quick kisses to your back and shoulder - daring enough to briefly kiss the back of your neck. His bouts of sudden affection were something you were no stranger to, but your eyes meet his without hesitation, and you pause briefly and the way his pupils are blown wide with adoration as he looks at you.

“Are you okay?” You can’t help but ask, like you can’t believe he’s looking at you with that much love in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that before Yuuji. Somehow, he made you feel so unbelievably loved, and you weren’t sure you did anything in particular to deserve that.

Of course, to him, you didn’t have to. “Fine,” he answers, shifting behind you just enough to lift his upper half, leaning over your side to kiss at your cheeks, slowly gravitating lower until he reaches the corner of your lips. “You look so pretty…”

“I’m just wearing shorts and a tee-shirt,” you giggle softly, turning your head until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “Nothing special,” you muse. He doesn’t seem to care that it’s ’not special’. Just the fact that you’re his girlfriend is special enough to make him feel like he was going crazy.

The way your eyes soften as you look at him, and your pretty lips pull into a smile, paired with your slightly-exposed-but-far-too-tempting skin does something to his brain. He felt like he was melting, every breath leaving him pliant in your hands. A willing victim to your killing beauty.

His heart is beating loudly in his chest, and his blood seems to be rushing lower before he even notices. For some reason, his brain briefly conjures the image of the first time he really kissed you and tortures him with the reminder of how he finished in his pants just from the feeling of making out with you.

He tries to subtly shift his hips away from you, not wanting you to notice the quickly growing arousal in his shorts, but you knew him too well, and a playful smile creeps up on your pretty features.

“You know...you don’t seem fine,” you hum, quickly glancing him over as heat saturates his reddened cheeks. His hormones always seemed to get the best of him when he was so close to you - constantly at war with wanting to be so close to you it would be nearly impossible to separate, and the fact that if he dared to get to close, he’d be playing peek-a-boo with his erections.

“Totally fine,” he replies, attempting to sound cool and collected as he rips his gaze away from you to stare aimlessly at the TV. The TV he was very obviously not paying any attention to despite gazing straight at it like he was paid to do so.

“Feeling hot?” You try to suppress a little laugh, obviously finding his surprisingly innocent reactions adorable. You shift on the couch to face him before sitting up, straddling his legs in a way that instantly has his eyes wide and mouth open.

He almost protests - you shouldn’t be on top of him like that, you obviously look too good! What if his brain turns to jelly because of you? What will he do if Gojo-sensei and the others make fun of him for getting even dumber?

He can feel his heart racing, brain imagining a mile a minute; your flushed, ecstasy-filled face, his cock pressed deep into you. He can almost imagine what your voice would sound like as you climaxed when the touch of your hand dancing around the waistband of his pants snaps him out of his daydreams.

“Wha—? Wait!” He almost whimpers, face hot as he watches you slip your hand under his shirt, lightly tracing the definition of his abdomen before drawing closer to the start of his happy trail poking out of his shorts. “Oh, God,” his breath hitches in his throat as he looks at you, and he’s practically twitching in his pants with anticipation for what you might do next. He could feel the growing dampness in his underwear. “Are you sure…?”

His whole body twitches under your touch as you slip your hand into his shorts. “Let me make your dreams come true?”

[dranna]

Movie Night with Ken

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Warnings: fluff, tiny tiny angst, hurt/comfort, feeling excluded, sobbing, not beta read

Summary: Ken planned a special night to watch a horsey movie with you. But when emotions starts bubbling up due to the film, he gets insecure.

a/n: I watched this movie for the first time a few days ago, and I fell in love with this silly. (I'm still practising writing and english is not my first language, so I apologise for mistakes) ((lowkey nervous posting this ))

tags my beloveds: @ken-dom

Moon was shining,

Stars were singing,

All the clouds went sleeping.

It was a quiet evening,

Notley as quiet as Los Angeles can be,

When Ken was busy arranging things,

He thought were important for his doings.

You two were in your home,

That Ken called Dojo Mojo.

You still remembered the time,

Caughting him red handed as he tried,

To hide something from your sight.

“What you got there dear?”

“I-it’s nothing..

It’s stupid really haha..”

— as he moved,

You saw a picture of—

“Horses?

Is that what you tried to hide from me? “

“ … yes.”

“ Oh you silly!

Come,

Tell me about them, everything.”

“ Really?!”

— And with that,

He started telling you all things,

About horse riding and races,

While you let him to put,

That beloved picture on the wall.

Right now as he was organising your Dojo,

He looked at the canvas many times,

As if collecting confidence from its sight.

He checked everything twice,

Because he wanted to make everything perfectly fine.

You were waiting patiently in the kitchen,

Stealing secret looks towards that working man.

After he found everything flawless,

He escorted you in your bedchamber,

The room was casted with a pinkish light,

Burning candles on the bedsides.

“My idea was.. I thought,

That we can watch,

The horse movie together,

Spirit: the Stallion of the Cinnamon!”

“It’s Cimarron”

— You laughed,

As you saw him all so excited.

Standing on tiptoes,

And taking a breath,

You kissed his little face,

That made his cheeks scarlety red.

“So it’s a sleepover?”

“Yes”

— with your reply,

He punched the air,

Jumping up and down in a merry way.

“Sublime!”

The two of you were on the bed,

That Ken insisted to be decorated with pinkness,

Buried under pillow forts and blankets,

Flushed together in sweetness.

There wasn’t a quiet minute,

Because Ken was talking horse facts,

And exhale his delights and surprises.

How you loved to see him that way,

Comfortable and talkative!

You could’ve listen to his silly little things for hours,

So you can see his adorable smile,

Accompanied with giggles,

Which were music in the night.

The movie was progressing,

So as the plot,

And you noticed a silence that covered you both,

As the end credits rolled you turned,

To see what’s wrong.

He sank deeper into the soft covers,

Turning away from you,

“Ken?”

— You called softly his name,

Resulting in him sinking even further away,

Something is wrong,

But what?

So you gently touched,

His carved shoulders.

If it wasn’t for the contract you would never know,

But shivers were running through,

His perfect beach-ready form.

“What’s the matter?

I thought the movie wasn’t that bad!”

“ He got free.. after all the h-hardships,

And ..found l-love!

Someone who ap-ppreciates him—“

A sudden sob cut him short,

Making him turn away even more,

“Ken, there is nothing wrong with crying.”

“You think so?”

“Yes I do”

—With that ,

You pulled him up from the deep Bluness,

Tugging him into a cosy embrace,

Filling his chest with warmness.

Silly silly Ken thought,

That showing “weakness”,

Would resort,

You realising he isn’t Kenough,

That he is a pathetic, unworthy doll,

And would be yet again left alone,

In the footsteps of yours.

Of course,

You would never leave this cutie pie behind,

You only want to see him shine.

With your arms around his hot body,

And the praises from your lips,

He finally started to relax and let,

His emotions to wash over his head,

With teary puppy eyes,

He started to tell headcanons of his mind.

With your blooming love,

You two were a peaceful island among,

The noisy streets and haste,

Where only the night sky,

Could hear Ken’s movie ideas.

He just talked and talked until he felt,

The magical visit of dreamland.

Sleep came and hid you both,

Under that horsy picture,

Which watched over you two.

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday ✨

This idea came to me Monday morning while I was on a walk. I jotted down ideas and then went home, got lost making a mood-board and then … that was it.

But today when I was on a run, words finally popped into my head 😁

Also I feel like exercise really gets the writing mojo flowing for me seeing as The Lightning Amnesia Fic idea came to me while I was at the gym, my first explicit smut scene began forming while I was on another run last Saturday and basically just a whole bunch of other scenes have been written between sets while working out 😅. Maybe that’s why words weren’t coming yesterday, because I didn’t exercise haha

Enough of my rambling, here’s the mood-board for the Buddie Slow Dance Fic I’m apparently going to be writing plus a little unedited snippet of fic underneath.

(I’m really proud of the mood-board and love it a lot)

The ceremony had been beautiful, Buck walking Maddie down the isle, arm in arm behind Jee-yun in her adorable flower girl dress. Philip Buckley hadn’t been pleased at her choosing Buck for such a pivotal moment that he saw as rightly his, but Maddie had had some words with him and he hadn’t brought it up again.

Buck had handed Maddie off to Chim, exchanging a pinkie promise with his friend that said take care of her, and promised always in return. He’d then gone to stand as man of honour behind his sister, Linda and Josh behind him.

Albert and Eddie were Chim’s groomsmen, with Hen in the role of best woman, obviously, and Bobby had been asked to officiate, which he’d happily agreed to.

Buck had looked at them, at his family, and hadn’t been able to hold in his beaming smile, incredible joy and happiness encompassing him.

With the ceremony wrapped, speeches and cake done, it was time for everyone to let loose with some dancing and drinks.

No pressure tagging: @giddyupbuck @forthewolves @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @cowboy-buck @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @messyhairdiaz @monsterrae1 @princessfbi @rewritetheending @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @wildlife4life @wikiangela @callaplums and anyone else who wants to share 😘

[adversitybloomed]

HAPPY NEW YEARS !!

I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone well wishes, prosperity and good health as we enter into 2024 ! I want to thank you all for being here & helping me to not only hone my muse, but also for being part of my life.

Each & every single one of you are important & I deeply cherish the bonds we have made with one another. I thank you for making 2023 amazing. I thank you for support both Mulan & myself as we journey & thread throughout the year.

I also want to take a moment to welcome my newcomers ! I see you, I appreciate your support & I look forward to getting to know you in 2024 !

I would also like to make a few shout outs to a few of my RL besties who have stuck by my side & whom I love & cherish deeply.

@battleguqin - Nyx, you are legit one of the most pure souls I have ever met. You are like a sister to me and one of my ride or die’s that I cherish so much. Thank you so much for making my 2023 magical. Thank you so much for the most amazing plotting, threads & feels. Thanks for being my rock and being the starlight to my sunshine. There is just so much more I want to thank you for, but we will be here until 2025 with how much good I wanna say about you ! I really hope you realize how much you mean to me & I look forward to everything that 2024 has to offer to us.

@sparesovereign - Raven, my GOAT, my ride or die, buddy. You legit are another one of my rocks that I cherish so much. I love you like a sister, and I am so grateful that I met you. I am so grateful for the feels our muses bring to us. I am so glad you found your mojo again and are back stronger than ever. Thank you so much for always being here. Thank you so much for making 2023 amazing. I really can’t wait to cause more chaos with you come 2024 !!

@incissam & @princessofmuses - Dani & Beth. You both are legit my sisters who adapted me 10+ years ago & have seen me both at my best & worst. You know I love you both right ? I know you might question why I put you both together, but considering I can’t really live & thrive without you both, & could go on a full on complementary spree only to have you both telling me to shush, I thought it would be for the best. I really look forward to entering into 2024 with you both & I hope you know that you both saved me. Love you both & let’s cause more chaos together soon !

@ka-go-me - Meaghan, thank you so much for legit always being here. I legit adore our muses together, as they have the bond of sisterhood - & I love talking to you so much. You always make me smile, your headcanon’s are so amazing & we seem, like our muses, to always be on the same wavelength. I am so grateful to have you in my life & I look forward to continue to have you going into 2024 !

@caracarnn & @luckhissoul - Fish & Liz, I am so mad at you both for making me fall in love with your boys, like so rude ! Jk, I adore you both so much. I love your boys. I love your writing & the feelings you both give me in threads ! I love when I get to talk to you both OOC wise & I am so utterly grateful to be able to have you as my writing partners - even if you make me cry with feels. I really look forward to having more with you both in 2024 !!

I also want to give credit to a few more, but I don’t want to take up the whole dash: @peculiarbeauty , @cuckoo-among-beasts , @orangeshinigami , @fighterbound , @pactclawed , @pctaldrunk , @seachant , @ssolessurvivor , @dreams-of-fate , @lianhuaes , @thuganomxcs , @luposcainus , @valorums , @penddraig - all of you, I want to thank you so much for being here, for letting me love on your muses & being your rp partner. I really enjoy talking to you OOC wise & look forward to seeing what we can come up with in together 2024 !

Once again, happy new years to everyone. Please stay safe & healthy ! Please know that I cherish you all, & if I missed anyone it wasn’t on purpose but because I am running out of writing space. Each of you are so special & honestly, you really help make the each passing year so special !

[the-elusive-soleil]

My standard headcanon, which I do very much like, is that Elrond and Elros are essentially curse/doom kryptonite because of Luthien mojo, Tuor-blessed-by-Ulmo mojo, etc. But it occurred to me that there could be another possibility, and I don't have time to fully write it, so y'all can run wild with it:

What if, around the time Elrond and Elros have to make the Choice of the Peredhil, they're also told that they have to choose whether to be counted as (half) Noldor or Sindar? (For right now, we'll assume Elros also has to make this choice, even though he's going to be living as a human, because it will affect how he sets up his kingdom and who he can ally with.)

The thing is, ever since they joined up with the Host of the West, they've been confusing the snot out of everybody. They look like Luthien's line. They've been raised by Feanorians for, let's say, the past forty-odd years, and it's in their mannerisms, their clothes, the way they fight. They switch, sometimes apparently at random, between using Earendilion, Nelyafinwion, or Kanafinwion as patronymics. In a camp that is ostensibly all one army, but under the surface is positively rife with different factions, they insist on making friends with people from everywhere.

The Valar are getting confused, too: what exactly are they supposed to do with these two, with their absolute trail mix of heritages?

So Eonwe or whoever finally tells them that they have to choose. Either they can be Sindar and have the friendship of Oropher's people, go by Earendilion (or maybe Elwingion, to be safe) and never speak Quenya or wear the Star of Feanor again, but have the blessing of Luthien...or they can be Noldor, and stay in touch with the people and customs they've lived most of their lives with at the expense of associating with their mother's people. Also, in that case, they'll definitely fall under some kind of doom, but it won't be so bad if they declare themselves as Nolofinwean through Idril, rather than Feanorian by adoption.

Obviously, their first response would be to be stubborn and difficult and rules-lawyering, and not choose at all. And that would be really fun to see. But say they couldn't. Say they had to choose. What then?

Let's say they split the difference. Does Elros choose to be counted as (metaphysically and by origin) Sindar so that his kingdom can thrive, and then quietly keep Elrond and Maglor and (assuming he's survived) Maedhros under his aegis so their doom can't catch up with them? Does Elrond take this on instead, since he's the designated immortal one, and try to find some way to keep in close enough touch with his brother and fathers to pass along some of his luck? How well does this work? What happens to Numenor if its first king is carrying a family curse? What happens to Elrond if he's the cursed one, trying to dodge his way through the successive ages of the world once his brother is gone?

Or let's say they both embrace the Noldor side, just to pull the rug out from under everyone who thinks they'll take this chance to ditch the people who raised them. Presumably it doesn't get as bad as it does for, say, Turin, but how bad does it get? How do they deal with the guilt crises that Maglor and Maedhros absolutely will have over this? How long does Numenor last (or does it fall in exactly the same time and manner as in canon, just with people blaming something different)? Does Rivendell exist at all? What do the Second, Third, Fourth Ages look like now?

Or let's say, for whatever reason you like, that they choose their Sindar side. Maybe because it's a side of themselves that they never got to fully explore, and they don't want to give it up out of hand. Maybe in an attempt to keep the people around them safe. Maybe because they have just a bit of foresight and see that they'll be needed in certain roles in the future and this is the best way. Maybe because Maglor and Maedhros have taken the Silmarils and vanished, and the twins think their adoptive family doesn't want them anyway. What does that look like? How do they reconcile their new lives with their old ones? How many habits do they have to break that they didn't even realize would be looked on with suspicion? How bad is the culture shock, and how long until it wears off?

Assuming they choose, how much do you think they try to fudge it, aiming for a sneaky blend of both? How well does it work? Are the attempts an open, amused secret? Or do they try and fail, over and over again, until they realize that whatever they chose is set into the fabric of reality just as their choices between Man and Elf altered something deep in them?

How will the parent(s) they didn't choose to follow react when, inevitably, they all meet again?

[1-800-local-slut]

I’m rewatching season 9 of Supernatural and it’s making me crave Cas fics. Maybe something where the reader met him as Steve but now he’s back to full angel mojo

Can I Get A Large Slushie?

Season 9 Castiel x Black! Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, heartbreak (on readers end), reader and Cas don't end up together romantically, it's more so an experience, i don't know why I can't write Cas that way but I think he's literally just too majestic for me. He's also weirdly hard for me to write so I'm sorry this isn't one of my better works

1.7k words

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also sorry this took so long, I got really busy </3

She could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The cold afternoon breeze that blew over her arms that night. The night when it was the beginning of everything she ever knew changed.

Drunk tears streamed down her face, her white dress a muddled mess around her lower body. It was supposed to be her night. It was supposed to be for her, with her friends and family all there to celebrate her engagement. Yet, after half an hour, her ex-fiance was caught with his pants around his ankles and buried in her aunt Nella. All she could do was run. She ran out of that party like a bat out of hell. Where was she even going? Perhaps her location was the gas station.

She ran, until she abandoned her heels in her purse, her flask was empty and the Sun had long since set behind her.

Then she was there. Tipsy, depressed and at a gas station. Mascara streamed down her dark skin in big gooey chunks, and she wanted to rip off her false lashes. Even her wig was bothering her. A chilled breeze blew through the night sky, and she shivered. Rubbing her arms up and down her soft skin she looked up through tear filled lashes at the glowing sign.

If there was any place to wait for her Uber, she supposed it was better than the street. The door felt cold against her bare arms. Looking back, it was a cold night. That night gave her a distinct fondness for the cold. The AC blasted over her, as she looked around. The whiteness of the room blinded her. She called her Uber, probably the least important aspect of her night. She saw him then.

He was standing near the slushie machine, he was certainly handsome. Tall, with brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and pink lips. Perhaps if she wasn’t spending unnecessary time worrying about a man who cracked her heart in two, she would’ve taken a chance with him. 

Sliding next to him, she glanced down at her phone again ‘Mickey, 8 minutes away’. How she wished she had more than those eight minutes. 

“Is there something you need ma’am?” The voice startled her. She wasn’t expecting him to speak, in her 29 years of living she can’t really remember ever speaking to a gas station attendant.

“Yeah…can I get a large slushie?” She slurred and hiccuped. Oh what a fool she made of herself! If she could go back, she would’ve gone in there perfectly sober and asked for more than a slushie from him.

“Sure, you know if you mix 50% red and 50% blue together it’ll make a perfect shade of purple? Most people end up with either too much red or blue, so if we fill it up to the top of the ‘e’ with the first color, it’ll be a perfect 50%, and the rest will make it a perfect mix.” He enthused, pulling out a cup but dropping a few more on the ground. She flailed in an attempt to grab them, and she followed suit. After a few ungraceful moments her slushie was being poured, half red and half blue. Then, he (with a shocking amount of enthusiasm) shook up her drinking and placed a gorgeous colored concoction.

Maybe it was the liquor that did her in. The liquor that brought tears to her eyes, and made her start to cry once more.

“This is the nicest thing ever, thank you…” with a squint, she leaned in and read his name tag. “Steve. That’s a nice name, I knew a guy named Steve once. He was great, you know. He was a nice guy, dude smelled funky though.” With a pathetic whimper, Steve chuckled and led her away to the cash register. 

For some reason, her heart thumped in her chest. Perhaps from the copious amounts of casamigos thrumming through her blood. 

“Well hopefully, he smells better now.” Steve chuckled and she took a long and hard sip from her slushie, the cold freezing over her pained heart. With a swipe of her credit card, her slushie was paid for.

“I hope you have a better night than you’ve been having so far.” Steve grinned widely and she chuckled. A smile came over her sore features. How tired she was. Even talking hurt but in her drunken state it was all she wanted to do.

“Why thank you Steve, you’re such a sweetie pie! Oh but my night can’t get better. My life can’t either.” She sighed, laying her arm and head onto the counter. She can still recall Steve’s blue eyes glancing over her face.

“My fiance, or ex, or uncle or something. He plowed my aunt at our engagement party. Sure she’s only like six years older, but that’s still so weird. He already had me, who goes for a downgrade? Here I am. Sad, drunk, kind of sleepy. This slurpee is really good, thank you so much.” Her rant left her out of breath. He really was an angel, to listen to her depressing details of her life. A sigh that seemingly deflated her body made Steve rest his chin on his hands.

“Huh…I’m sorry that happened to you.” The response was earnest.

“I’m sorry it happened to me too.” Whipping tears from her eyes, and the streaks of mascara from her eyes. Her phone buzzed, ‘Mickey has arrived’.

“My Uber’s here.” She swallowed another giant gulp of her slushie.

“Okay, have a nice night!” Steve waved as the woman blinked in confusion, pushing herself off the countertop. 

“You’re a very cheerful gentleman.” She waved back with a giggle and stumbled off into the night.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time she saw him, it was two weeks later. She went back to the store, craving yet another perfect slushie, and exhausted from the moving process. After kicking her ex to the curb, she was finally completely moved out. A nice little apartment that she’d spend the next three years off her life in even though she didn’t know it yet. 

Pushing open the door, the AC blasted against her warm skin once more.Her beeline to the slushie machine was quick, and before she knew it she was faced to face with Steve again.

“Hello there Steve.” He turned around, and grinned at her with a level of excitement someone who loved their job could have.

“Good afternoon, how are you doing today?” He asked her. Something about him drew her in. What was it though? Was it his generosity? Was it his simple naivety? No, but what was it?

“I’m doing just fine.” With a chuckle, she swiped her card. And feeling brand new from just being near Steve for some reason, she went on about her day.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

It had gotten to the point where if you cut her open, she would’ve bled that delicious purple she’d been consuming on a near daily basis. Their conversations, about essentially nothing, were just filled with sweet nothings. It was like speaking to a person with a pure view. For a moment, just a moment each day, it cleared her mind of all the pain she’d been forced to endure. Until one day, Steve’s innocent glee was missing. 

“Are you alright Steve?” She asked, while grabbing a pack of gum while she shook her cup around.

“I’m just thinking. Can I ask you something?” He took the gum from her and ran it over the scanner. Taking it back, she pulled out six dollars and prepared for her change.

“Sure, I’ve asked you plenty of questions.” 

“When you know you belong somewhere else doing something else, but you’re forced to be something you don’t want to be, what do you do?” A silence settled between the two of them. 

“I think you should do what you’re meant to do the best way you can. Even if you can’t do it the same way anymore.” She responded, sliding her gum into her purse.

“I think so too.” He gave her a tight lipped smile and a small wave goodbye. It was the last time for a while that she would see Steve.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time it was six weeks later. Life moved on of course. She still had slushie’s just not as often. Without Steve, there was no point in going every day. Still her heart couldn’t forget him. Nothing ever happened between the two. Nothing more than thoughtful and absent minded conversations. Still he left some sort of gap in her heart.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

“Hi there, my name is Jack Matherson, this is my partner David Kendall. We’re detectives looking into the break in across the street, may we come in?” But when she saw ‘David’ her entire world melted. Instead it was Steve. At her flower shop, standing next to a very handsome man. 

“Sure…sure of course you can.” The two stepped in, and Steve or David or whatever his name was seemed to barely notice her. There he was right there, and this entire time she had been wondering where he had gone. What had happened to that silly guy from the gas station? Now here he was, a very well dressed cop in a trench coat.

He looked far more serious now, as if he was intent on whatever his mission was. Even the air around him felt far more cleansing. More so like whatever she had done in her life was judged and forgiven in his presence. He walked around absentmindedly, whispering to his green eyed partner. For a fast moment, they made eye contact.

“Hello there, it’s good to see you again.” She swallowed thickly. Was his voice always so gruff? Was this the thing he wanted to do the best way he could? It seemed like it, the way he was so domineering in the strangest way.

“You too.” With a quick nod, she slipped away into the back. Now she curses herself, for running away from someone who made her feel so oddly full. Not complete, but like a part of her was added, one that she never even knew she wanted.

Now, she was slurping on a large slurpee, her tongue staining purple and she sat on her window sill. Years later, she still thinks about him. She still thinks about how his energy brought many changes. Something about him illuminated something…untouchable? Unique. No, divine. Divine was the only word that could be used to describe the feeling that the presence of Steve brought. 

Now she was sitting at her window sill, slurpy finished, and missing that feeling and her Steve more than anything.

[deandoesthingstome]

Let's spread some positivity! Tag some of your fellow content creators here and let them know why they are absolutely amazing!❤️

I've been seeing this all over the place and I love it!

I have been tagged by many who I would tag, as well seen them tag many others I would also tag.

So in no particular order and also with knowledge that this list can in no way be comprehensive because I sometimes have a hard time remembering every author I have ever read or liked but I'm going to do my best to list who I can. And cut it, cause it gets wordy here:

@sillyrabbit81 for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is she was my entrance to this fandom with Even If You Don't Mean It. Her Sy is goals, not to mention her fantastic gif making skills. I mean, just LOOK AT THIS!!!

@mayloma my lover of everything Walter (and more, I know; Sy and August and Henry get her love, too.) Her Hideaway Walter is especially delicious.

@geralts-yenn another serious contender for feeding the fandom gifs and inspiration, but an author in her own right. Lots of minor Cavill characters get love from her but I'd be lying if I said I was ever not thinking about her Sy from Bonfire. Also, thank you for the tag, lovely!

@raccoon-eyed-rebel is my series go-to. Seriously, the number of her stories I have been or still am following with glee is astounding. I'm still waiting for a conclusion to Fixer-Upper with Sy, but it's the way she agrees to write me into the scenes with my favorites that really seals the deal for me. Not that I need everyone lusting after my man, but please, do enjoy my Pumpkin Spice king.

@hope-to-hell just gorgeous, sensual, dark and sticky stuff. I daydream about her collab fic with Walter calling a phone sex line every now and then. Sad and Lonely Boys has an unexpected Mike twist to it, but it hits so hard, I cannot resist it.

@ellethespaceunicorn just goes crazy on every Henry character. She loves them all, spends her time researching (read "watching all his movies to get the mannerisms and feels right") and just churns out ideas like there is no stopping her. So many options to choose from, but I still want to see more of Love, Napoleon. Another friend I need to thank for the tag. (And please, you flatter me, too.)

@littlefreya Demon of Lust doesn't do her justice. She is a masterclass in Cavill fanfic. So many ideas, so many stories, all filled with fantasy and desire and just pure, unadulterated fun. You'd think I'd run to her Sy, too, but it's August who makes my heart beat faster when I think of Freya. The Way to Hell will show you why.

@winter2112rose creates cute domestic bliss with our favorites. Sometimes, a bit of angst works its way in, but that's okay. Trust she has the best intentions in mind for your fave. If that fav is Walter, start with A Detective and His Baby Cubs. Thank you also, sweetheart, for the tag!

@itbmojojoejo this is a throwback fandom for me. Most you maybe don't know of my love for Finan the Agile from The Last Kingdom. But Mojo keeps me fed with Finan gifs and also has an amazing TLK 1950's crime lord AU Crimes of Passion that has me hooked and desperately hoping her muse and her free time hook up again soon.

I'm sure there are more. I imagine you could check out my FWW posts to see some other wonderful writers and the things I've said about them already, too.

Keep doing what you're doing, friends. For as long as it feels good.

[destinationtoast]

first thoughts on Ted Lasso premiere

Phoebe remains the absolute best.

DRESSED LIKE AN UMLAUT

Ted being all sad and rumpled and rumpled and sad 😭 he needs comforting but also antidepressants and some serious rejiggering of his parenting life lbr 😭 looking forward to the fic

love everything with Nate and Rupert and the whole West Ham sterile environment...it's so deliciously fucked up. And the panicking + spitting under the table?? FUCK. oh, Nate. i look forward to the fucked up fic

I'm not sad to have some Roy x Keeley angst... hoping with @wildwren that it goes angstier before or gets better! (WREN I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR FIC 👀👀👀👀) but also I love them and want there to be a very satisfying arc of them working their shit out and getting back together and fucking Jamie

I really don't think I followed the sewer metaphor right.. it sounded like a suggestion to form a human centipede?? 😹 i don't look forward to that fic, but god bless if that's your kink.

also was not expecting crotch shots as they descended into the sewer... looking forward to the gifsets

much good himbo-ness!

Disco, lol

what's Beard reading now, and why is he leaving it on Roy to carry all of Nate's old job?

yes thank you for sharing your bosoms with Keeley, Rebecca! please do more; Keeley is sad and deserves boobs looking forward to the fic

oh fuck, it didn't occur to me that Keeley's office would be joyless thanks to her VCs appointing the CFO, ... didn't she hire some of the people, though?? why aren't those ones at least fun and awesome?? I'm going to be bummed if she fails at running her own company or hates it... but that doesn't feel like a move the show would pull, i hope? she should have success and JOY. may need to write the fic

Sam shirtless yes thank you

Jamie's hair lol no thank you

he's okay to drive but forever changed, haf... of course Beard knows toad venom. there was no doubt in my mind.

press conference duel YES. I love Nate taking Ted down and Ted lifting Nate up. even if Ted's too distracted and depressed to have his full joke mojo, that was great.

what must Nate be thinking after he angrily closes his laptop. look forward to he fic and meta

get it, Sharon! (that's not anyone we're supposed to recognize in her bed, right?)

Ted asking sad questions and Beard not answering except to point out that they already passed his apartment 😭 Beard what is up with you rn??? looking forward to the fic

Very curious about what Trent is up to. 👀👀 looking forward to the fic

as I expected might be the case, I was vibrating with New Canon Energy the whole time and it was a bit distracting... I definitely need to watch it again soon now that I know the basics of what happens. but I liked a lot of things in this episode, and i am not angry about anything, all of which is a delight and a relief since last time I joined a fandom during a hiatus it was Sherlock, and my feelings about the following episode were Complicated

[ghostiewriter]

omg im so glad u feel like writing blurbs

pls i need some enemies to lovers bits!!!

“You.” 

“Me.”

Kiara narrowed her eyes at the blond, her patience already wearing thin and her head was about to explode, and the last fucking thing she needed to be dealing with right now was JJ Maybank. 

“Is there a reason you’re annoying me before midday?” Kiara said bluntly, hands on her hips and shoulders tense as she tried not to think of the mess her shop was currently in—and the fact she was half an hour from opening. 

“Tony fucked up again,” the blonde said casually like he didn’t notice she was about to burst her top. “I think this delivery of—“ he paused as he looked down at the box, eyes squinting slightly. “Authentic Colombian coffee grounds are meant for you.”

Kiara hardly let him finish his sentence before she was snatching the box from him. “Thanks. Goodbye.” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” and before the door shut, a hand caught it. “That’s it?” 

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you expecting? A muffin basket?” 

JJ grinned. “Are they blueberry muffins?”

“Fuck off, Maybank,” she grumbled under her breath and she could’ve sworn his eyes lit up. 

“There she is!” JJ sighed dramatically as he let himself into her shop, uncaring of the way she glared at him. “You were starting to concern me there for a sec, Carrera. Thought something was actually wrong but if you’re biting my head off, then all is right in the world.” 

Kiara had always had ambitions of opening her own little place, ever since she was a young girl. Whilst she adored cooking with her dad, she tended to lean more towards baking. And fuelled with the caffeine addiction she gave herself over high school and college, her passions extended to coffee too. 

With a fuck load of saving over the years and determination, she managed to open up her own cafe a little over six months ago. 

What she wasn’t expecting was her dream to come with a really annoying neighbour. 

JJ Maybank was a talkative, ADHD-ridden blond who owned the surf shop next door, and he had been the bane of her existence since she moved in. 

“I don’t have time for this,” she gritted through clenched teeth as she made her way behind the counter to the storage room. “Get out before I call the police.” 

JJ snorted. “Not the first time you used that threat on me, sweetheart.” 

“And I called them, didn’t I?” 

“Fair,” JJ said with a shrug as he wandered in between the tables that still had chairs half-hazardously placed on top. “But the threat doesn’t hit the same when you felt bad when they arrived and assured them it was a misunderstanding.”

“Won’t make the same mistake twice,” Kiara chirped as she settled the coffee grounds away with the rest of the supplies and grabbed the cleaning products she had shoved to the side fifteen minutes ago when she was having a breakdown over the cookie batch she was making. 

“So, what’s got you all tense?” JJ continued to prod like they were life-long friends catching up. “You seem snappier than usual.”

“Don’t you have your own shop to run?” she snapped at him. 

“Nah, perks of being your own boss,” he shrugged with a grin. “You should try it some time.” 

She shot him a look. “Pass.” 

“So, what is it?” he kept pushing. “Woke up the wrong side of the bed? Dodgy horoscope? Bad mojo?” 

Kiara paused, eyes narrowing on the boy who was now picking up random things from the tables. “All my staff are off sick or on holiday so I’m opening up alone today. And you’re not helping the stress at all.” 

JJ paused, looking at her with a frown. “Oh. That sucks.” 

“Yeah, it does,” she stated bluntly. “So, leave.”

“Or I could help,” he offered. 

Her eyes narrowed further in suspicion. “Why would you want to help?” 

“Because it’s the decent thing to do?” 

“Like you’re a decent person.” 

JJ sighed and walked towards her, taking the mop from her hand. “Listen, you have twenty minutes before people start walking through that door,” he said as he leaned down to grab the bucket too. “So you can either keep fighting me on it or accept the help.” 

Kiara gave him a look. “What do you want in return?” 

“This may come as a shock to you but not everything I do requires something in return,” he said with a huff of amusement. “It’s called a good deed, Carrera, but it wouldn’t surprise me that you wouldn’t know what that is.” 

Kiara sighed as she glanced towards the clock, seeing the minutes quickly ticking down to opening time. She really wasn’t in the position to argue right now and she didn’t have time to worry about his true intentions. For now, she had to accept JJ Maybank’s help. 

“If you break anything, I break you,” she warned him. 

JJ grinned widely. “Talk dirty to me, Carrera.”

[quinloki]

Nothing particularly awesome happened today, Daylight Savings has messed up my sleep so bad I'm currently functioning on a mere 4 hours sleep. When speaking I can barely put words into a sentence but writing has always been my forte so hopefully this is far more coherent. Yesterday I tweaked my masterlists and organized them proper, so that made me happy.

No one really interacts with my stuff on Wattpad which is fine, because the exact same works are doing GREAT on AO3. My Arlong collection has been viewed over 240 times, has 11 kudos, and has received 2 comments from people. Rabid Devotion has 3 kudos and has been bookmarked once with only 50+ views, Better Mousetrap has 170+ views and 2 kudos, while Slinktober isn't slated to be updated/finished until July and yet it has 55+ views and 3 kudos. It has more kudos than Mousetrap and more views than Rabid. So that's happy stuff. And I do get views and likes here on tumblr, more so than on Wattpad—that's my worst showing despite being my preferred writing platform. Go figure.

Anyway, I thought I'd follow your little OC template you provided in your request post for good stuff while you recuperate from a trying day. As always, I am here to try and provide. Also as always, this runs egregiously long.

Tell me more about an OC? -:- if you've told me about them before: Do you have new art of them? Have you made new lore? Discarded anything/changed something?

I'm going to gloss over the fact that you asked about OCs and just focus on giving you more about Arlong and my self-ship Keiko. I am working on my OCs but I find them to be exhausting because I'm not to a place where I can create originally again, I'm still healing from writing hurt. I'm getting a lot better but the mojo just isn't there yet, so the majority of them have been indefinitely shelved. Especially the two snake-like OCs (Lon Lon & Modeus—though I did add a little more to him than her).

I have no art of Arlong yet, and I have NOT tried drawing Arlong in my cartoon style, though I guess I could now that I think about it. He'll look awful but I headcanon the man has no artistic skill whatsoever, so I could easily pass the drawing off as his handiwork instead of mine. I think it'd be funny if Arlong's drawing skills were on the same level as Luffy. He'd never admit to it because he hates Luffy which is why I think their levels in art should be equal.

Now that I know Arlong is a sawfish and not a sawshark, I have one more thing to goad him with besides being an amphibian and a separate species from the fishwomen. Clearly, I enjoy tormenting the man. This is, in fact, along the same vein of how we met.

I keep changing the official story of how we met until I can find one that makes the most sense. What stays the same each time is that Arlong and his boys are the first fishmen I'd ever seen. I also am functioning on my self-insert as having been semi-isekai'd (that's the trope where you die in your world and end up in another, right?). Except, I didn't exactly die. I like the planeswalking thing of MtG so I just work off of that more or less.

Anywho, I thought I'd share the story of how I met Arlong and how I at the very least piqued his attention enough to not get killed right off the bat. It started not with a hello but with a "can I touch you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a Touch

"Can I touch you?" I held up my hand to show I genuinely meant touch in a I-want-to-understand-something sort of way and not the I-want-to-touch-for-X-amount-of-berries sort of way. I mostly just pointed to his arm with the stylized fish tattoo to really drive home the point that this was a non-sexual request on my part.

The fishman laughed down at me, literally. "And why would I let a puny human girl touch me, a superior fishman?"

"Curiosity?" I don't know why I'm answering with a question, I am curious. It's not a question but the way in which he responded made me feel oh so small. Puny indeed.

He raised an eyebrow, "curiosity you say? And what is so curious about us, hm? We're not circus freaks put on display for you girl, get lost before I lose my temper and explore a curiosity of my own." The eyebrow fell as he switched from condescension to threatening. He stood straighter to punctuate that he was significantly bigger than me and besides being tall enough to probably step on me, he certainly could bite my head off.

I don't know why, but the whole exchange hurt. My hands fell to my sides, my shoulders sagged, and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears that were welling up from falling down. I hate crying in front of others and I sure as hell wasn't going to cry in front of this jerk. I lifted my chin to keep my head high, I wasn't going to let him bully me but I needed to heed the threat at the same time.

One tear did manage to slip down my cheek as I glared back at him before turning silently on my heel and briskly walking away. I didn't look back once. If I had, I'd have seen how he tilted his head to the side with an expression caught between anger and confusion.

I don't know what they were doing on the island, I'd gone to great lengths to ensure I didn't run into any of them all day long. Day turned to night and night turned to morning. A new day that I hoped would pass without issue. That turned out to be a futile hope. I had been spying on the beach since dawn broke, to ensure the intruders weren't there before heading down to look for shells or other odds and ends that washed up during the night.

I'd been traipsing through the sand for only about twenty minutes when I shadow fell over me and loomed for several feet beyond mine. Well shit, guess I have company after all.

"You now it's dangerous to keep your back unprotected with fishmen around. I could have killed you multiple times." Judging from the low rumbly voice, it was the same fishman from yesterday. The sharky one.

Keeping my back to him I answered, "I have no doubt since I'm such a lowly and puny little human girl." The word feels like acid on my tongue. Girl, as if I were a mere child and not the adult that I was. Just one more way for others to strip me of my own agency and keep me low in the hierarchy of life. I didn't feel so low before these fishmen showed up and within twenty-four hours I was starting to believe the lies people mutter as I walk by.

I heard him sigh behind me whether in anger or exasperation I couldn't say. Suddenly the shadow got shorter and shorter which did nothing more but make me curious about him all over again. I turn to see why his shadow retreated. The sharkman squatted down, now balancing on his toes and his arms resting on his knees as he undoubtedly scrutinized me. Even squatting down he was taller than me and I was not short by any means. Okay I was, but this is the Grand Line, everyone is taller than they are in the other four seas. In any of the four Blues I am tall but on the Grand Line I'm tiny and this guy was making me feel even tinier.

"I will permit you to touch me just this once." He stared at me head on with an almost passive expression. I have no clue what's going through his head or what his game is, but he seems calm and this is my golden opportunity.

I reach for the arm with the tattoo and hesitate for a few seconds, trying to anticipate if it's a trap or not. Deciding it's not I continue until my fingers touch his arm. First my fingertips because I don't really know what I'm doing or what I expect. He's not really reacting, just watching in silence. Meanwhile my mind is racing, why did he change his mind? Why is he so calm now? Is he going to kill me afterwards?

Despite my panicking thoughts, I continue my quest for my answer to the question only I knew. My fingertips move forward and my fingers are now fully connected with his forearm; my fingers gliding up and down the forearm then side-to-side. I trace along the tattoo as well. I'm sure he must think me insane at this point as this is clearly not normal behavior for anyone, human or otherwise.

He simply continues to stare and doesn't say anything. But I do. I furrow my own brows at the contact and quietly sigh under my breath, "well that's disappointing." I totally forgot whose arm this was. I totally forgot he was literally right there, could hear me, and that just yesterday threatened to kill me publicly. He didn't even try to hide his hostility. Yet here I am, insulting him, to his face, with no witnesses for my murder. Genius Keiko, real smooth. Way to keep your lifespan going.

"What do you mean, disappointing? What were exactly were you expecting little one?" I don't know if this was a step up or down from girl but I'll take it for now because he's not killing me yet. In fact, he still hadn't so much as twitched.

I, maybe carefully, maybe bravely—I no longer know where I fall in terms of adjectives and adverbs—look him in the eyes, his beautiful icy blue eyes (get your head in the game Keiko, you could be mere seconds from being headless and he still wouldn't have to move his arms to do it). "Don't take this the wrong way but you're the disappointment here."

I'm a dead woman. That's it, this is where it ends for me. I may as well just strip out of my mortal coil myself and hand it to him.

He raises a single eyebrow again, and with just a hint of mirth to his voice prolongs my inevitable demise, "how have I disappointed you?"

"Look, I don't know anything about fishmen. This island doesn't have any books on them and until yesterday I'd never seen one before. You're as foreign as foreign can get for me. Based on how the locals were screaming, you must be the shark. Yes?"

He finally smirks and has an expression that is semi-readable. Amusement. I'm amusing him. Well, at least I'm not offending him as that ends in death. Though amusement could also end in death but for now, I'm still breathing and that's a good sign.

"Yes, I'm the shark. Arlong the Saw and I am a sawshark fishman."

"Great, nice to meet you Arlong. Now, as I was saying, and again I mean no offense, but for a shark you're an utter disappointment."

Arlong, as he's apparently called, leans in close to me and it's only now that I see why he's called the Saw. His nose is razor sharp, all he'd have to do is twitch to either side in rapid succession and he could cut my head off. It's like he has a sword growing out of his face, I wonder what a narwhal fishman looks like? I bet they'd resemble a humanoid unicorn with gills. Focus Keiko!

"Could you be more specific, little girl."

That wasn't a question, that was a statement. He definitely took offense. I quickly retract my hand from his arm but he's faster. Arlong catches my wrist with his webbed hand, another feature I hadn't noticed earlier. He continued to stare intently at me as if he were trying to see my very soul. For some reason, I felt almost naked under his eyes.

I tried twisting my hand out of his grasp to no avail so I have no course but to talk my way of the jaws of death. "I truly mean no offense. It's just, your skin. It feels like mine."

Arlong narrows his eyes, "of course it feels like yours, it's skin. I'm a fishman. Humanoid. I have arms and legs as you do, fingers and toes too. Why would I not have skin as you have?"

Maybe he was getting angry or maybe I just really confused him. Might as well own up to my question. I didn't want to ask the question direct in case it was a truly stupid one, but now I either elaborate or I die what may be a very painful death. Though I must admit, if this man is what my death looks like, damn. Way more pleasant than an unknown creature is black robes with a scythe. This guy may be scary but he was also attractive. There could be worse ways to go if I had time to think about them.

"Do fishmen not live in the sea?" Not my question but now I was getting confused at his confusion.

"In a way. We live on an island that's underwater, why?"

"An underwater island? I don't know how to process that. That's beside the point anyway. My point is you have human-like skin but you're supposedly a shark. Shouldn't you feel like a shark instead?"

Arlong finally stopped glaring at me and burst out laughing, while still holding my wrist, though he did loosen the grip a little bit. He certainly wasn't trying to break my hand but he might have bruised it. "You thought I was going to feel like sandpaper?!"

I looked down at the sand, blushing from embarrassment. "Well yeah, because you're a sawshark." Shit, my eyes are watering again. I hate that crying is my body's go-to-reaction for nearly everything. It's partly way I live outside the village, one can only take so much harassment.

Arlong's laughing slowed and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. "You really haven't encountered a fishman before then. No, sharkmen do not feel like sharks because we aren't sharks. We're more akin to mammals just as humans are. We have skin and hair and our women give birth to live babies just as humans do."

I cannot lift my head, the tears won't stop so I just stare at the sand and listen to what is turning out to be a very educational lecture. Arlong decides to continue when I don't respond, "unlike humans we have webbed fingers and toes as I'm sure you've noticed by now. We have gills on our necks for breathing underwater and lungs for breathing on land. We command the water but even we have to be careful in the Grand Line. She is an unforgiving landscape."

I quietly nod in understanding. He finally lets go of my wrist and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him through blurry, watery eyes. "You're very unusual for a human, you didn't fear us when we arrived yesterday. You approached with curiosity and a desire to understand us. No human has done that to me or my crew." Arlong proceeded to wipe my tears away as he finally stood up. "Perhaps we'll have another conversation on another day."

"Does this mean you aren't going to kill me?"

He chuckles, "No little one, I'm not. I only ask for one thing in return for today's lesson."

It's my turn to tilt my head to the side in confusion, "and what's that?"

"Tell me your name."

And just like I did when they first landed here yesterday morning, I smiled. "My name is Keiko."

"I look forward to tomorrow's question, Keiko." Arlong left me on the beach grinning like a smitten schoolgirl. I got my answer to my question, and while it was a truly disappointing answer—I wanted him to feel like sandpaper, I didn't die and I may have made a new friend.

I love Keiko - and I should’ve been more clear, but OC to me kind of covers any flavor of original character - self insert, reader type, OC as commonly referred to, etc.

I’m happy to hear about them all ^_^

I love this story! Her question, the progress of the tale, the interaction. You may make a fan of me yet (for Arlong, I mean, I already love Keiko.)

I’m just about off to bed for the night, so I don’t have much else to say, but thank you so much for sharing this, and please try to get some more rest too! Damn time change is such a pain >.<

[quelsentiment]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Thanks so much to @haztobegood for tagging me :))

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 12

2. Word count posted for the year: 107,847

3. Fandoms I wrote for:  One Direction, Shaw Mendes, Video Blogging RPF (Dream and co.)

4. Pairings: OT5, Niall/Zayn, Niall/Harry, Niall/Louis, Niall/Liam, Niall/Shawn (so many Niall pairings wtf), Zayn/Liam, Zayn/Louis, Zayn/Harry, Liam/Louis, Dream/Georgenotfound

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: In the midst of a storm

Bookmarks: In the midst of a storm

Comments: In the midst of a storm

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

I feel like I have to answer In the midst of a storm. Writing this fic was extremely frustrating at times because I had this amazing picture of it in my head but I felt like I could never do it justice due to lack of time, energy, and stability. I pushed myself through it and managed to finish it, though, and honestly some comments I got on it made me look at it in a much more positive light! Hopefully I’ll be able to read it back one day without cringing too much lol

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

Probably As long as you’re not afraid to feel. Not that I think it’s bad or anything, but I feel like you can tell by reading it that I wasn’t really into it. It’s one of these fics whose idea I came up with early on, but only started working on it months afterwards due to other commitments, and by then I’d kind of lost my initial interest in it :/ I do think it’s a pretty fun one, but it could have been much better if I’d worked on it as soon as I started brainstorming it

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

As I said, some of the reviews on In the midst of a storm really warmed my heart and kinda made me change my opinion on it! Shoutout to @lululawrence‘s lovely comments especially 😊

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Ugh, the entire year until September, basically. 2022 has been a very stessful year for me, and despite wanting to make writing a priority, it definitely felt like I’d lost my mojo at times. I only started to pull myself out of it once I 1. moved back to Canada and 2. got into the Dream fandom - I probably just needed a change after 3 years of focusing exclusively on 1d, I guess

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

I wrote a few smut-adjacent scenes for It the midst of a storm that did surprise me, or at least were a new experience for me lol

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From Running From The Sun

 “I don’t. I don’t want you,” Niall protests, but it sounds half-hearted at best. Louis almost has her in a chokehold now, and it’s time for her to land the final blow.

 “Yes, you do. You think I haven’t seen the way you were looking at me earlier, while you were dancing with that guy? You think I can’t hear your heart beat faster whenever I get a little too close?” She punctuates her words by taking the last step that separates her and Niall, and now she’s got the slayer right in front of her again. Right where she wants her. “Hell, you think I don’t notice the blood rushing to your cheeks right now?” she adds in a mere whisper. “You think-”

 “Shut up,” Niall hisses out. Louis can see her swallow, and she knows she’s got her now.

 “Make me,” she dares her.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

It’s probably gonna sound dramatic but, for the major part of the year, I’ve felt like I was regressing as a writer. I’d constantly be second-guessing everything I wrote down, including stuff that I never had a problem with before (like dialogues). It’s been pretty exhausting, but in the end I guess it did make me grow, in that it made me more aware of my strengths and weaknesses.

A more practical answer would be that I wrote for new pairings and fandoms, and as mentioned before I even wrote some more explicit scenes, which is something I never thought I’d be able to do, much less to share 😳

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

Continue posting for the Dream fandom. I’m currently working on a longer fic for it that I’m really excited about!

Otherwise I’d like to get back into writing everyday, and like Jinny said, try to edit less while writing even though that habit is so ingrained in me that it might prove to be difficult.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

Oh god... My introvert tendencies came back in full force this year, and I ended up taking a big step away from the 1d writing community, unfortunately. Maybe that’s something that I’ll try to change next year too, because I do miss these interactions!

I do want to thank @zou-i-am, though - we had a great time running the Lilo Fest together! Thanks so much to @uhoh-but-yeah-alright too for betaing my Zarry fic :) And of course, much love to Sof if they see this <3

Finally, maaaaany thanks to @allwaswell16 for all the work she puts in to post fic recs and leave thoughtful comments! You’re a legend :))

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Weirdly enough, I wanna say it’s the opposite. In both New York Kiss and In the midst of a storm, Zayn works a retail job, and that’s something I ended up doing for the first time over the summer. Life imitating art and all that 😌

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Who am I to impart wisdom? lol I guess just... don’t give up. If you’re feeling like you’re losing your inspiration, give yourself some time and/or try something else (like a new pairing or something). Follow whatever excites you in a given moment, even if it means putting other projects on hold.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’m excited to keep writing my current Dreamnotfound fic. Also looking forward to running the Zouis Fest again, and to starting writing my fic for it (even though I have no clue what it’ll be yet)

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I’m sure a lot of people have done this already 😬 Maybe @zou-i-am @feeisamarshmallow @zanniscaramouche @uhoh-but-yeah-alright ?

[kimmimaru]

Started yet ANOTHER fic. Mostly because I haven’t been able to write much on my WIP’s lately and needed to jump start the creativity mojo.  Anyways, it’s Reno/Rude. Other than that I really don’t know where it’s going lol. I suppose we will see how it works out. Thought I’d post a little bit of it. XXX

Normal for Reno is making sure he is never vulnerable, even asleep. It's wearing clothes to bed so he can get out quickly, it's living on a razors edge so that he's never caught unaware. Now Reno is on the couch, the living room lights are off, the TV is on. He's half-slumped against the cushions, a can of beer between his knees, his shirt hanging almost all the way open. His hair falls free around his face and shoulders, framing his eyes which seem to be the only bright thing about him. He's black and white, like an old fashioned photograph. He's almost too still and if it wasn't for the movement of his eyes, Rude might fear the worst. He steps silently into the room, watching Reno's gaze fall on him. The cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips drops ash onto his crinkled shirt. “Yo,” Reno croaks, blowing smoke into the already cloudy air. Rude knows it's a bad night tonight. “Couldn't sleep.” Rude says, averting his eyes and moving towards the kitchen. Reno manages a small grin, “Oh yeah?” Rude grunts in response and opens the fridge, sending light across the floor. He bends and peers inside, simply so he didn't have to look at his partners face. He finds a bottle of water and pulls it out, straightening up. He closes the fridge with his hip, making a sound that feels too loud in the silence of their apartment. Reno flinches. Rude sees it in the corner of his eye as he unscrews the cap of the bottle. In the quiet they can hear the hum of the fridge and the creak of plastic underneath Rude's fingers. “Been thinkin'...” Reno says slowly, pulling the cigarette free of his mouth and stubbing it out in the ashtray. Rude turns his head to look at him, seeing him hunch over the coffee table and stare into its surface. He doesn't continue his thought. “You should get some sleep, partner.” Rude says, trying for casual and missing. Reno looks up at him through his hair, “So should you.” They stare at one another across the room for a moment until Reno looks away, back over his shoulder at the couch cushion. It's still squashed from his lounging position earlier. “You ever...think about the time we first met?” Rude makes a quiet sound, “Sometimes.” He admits. Reno laughs quietly, running his hands over his face, he falls back against the cushions and stares up at the ceiling through his fingers, “I thought you wanted to kill me, yo.” “Maybe I did.” Rude leans against the counter, bottle in one hand, “You were an asshole.” Reno laughs again, a little lighter this time, “Yeah. Guess I was.” “First mission was that guy from below plate.” “Drake. Suspected Wutai spy. We had to bring him in.” “He was an asshole too.” Reno didn't laugh this time. He was quiet for too long. Rude shifted, he hated filling silences, he hated this awkwardness growing between them. Reno took a breath, small, sharp, like he was trying to bring himself to say something terrible. Rude felt his muscles tighten in response; fight or flight. The feeling was painfully familiar and hard to get rid of. “That guy nearly killed me.” He said finally. The tension in Rude's shoulders intensifies. The memory of Reno's blood on his hands still lingers, slick and hot. It had turned his shirt bright red, the same colour as his hair. He'd been reckless, made a stupid mistake. They'd both been rookies. “Veld chewed us both out when I got outta the hospital, yo.” “You did die.” Rude says suddenly, the words surprising even him. Reno clicks his tongue, “For a minute, yo.” “You died. Your heart stopped.” “Rude...” “Why the hell are we talking about this now?” Rude cuts him off, rubbing a hand over his bald head, he squints up at the clock on the wall. “Shit. It's three am, I'm too tired for this.” Reno falls quiet again. That same tense kind of quiet, like a storm was brewing. “Go get some sleep, partner.” He says finally, fingers in his hair, knuckles visible in the light from the television. Reno closes his eyes. Rude starts to make his way back to his bedroom, he pauses and glances back over his shoulder to see Reno bent over his own knees, head bowed. He takes a breath, opens his mouth as if to say something but he stops. He doesn't know what to say. He turns back to the dark hallway and continues on to his own bedroom.

[boss323michalmiskovic]

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[kelyon]

if you don't mind me asking what is next for you in your writing? I'm a big fan of yours.

What's next? Isn't that the question of the year.

I feel like I've been boiling a dry pot for a while now. My writing mojo is really depleted. I look at the WIPs I have or projects I want to start and it all feels like an obligation. And I don't want to write because I have to. I want to write because I can't not write.

So my first step is to just not write for a while. I'm trying to even keep myself from thinking about the next project, but that doesn't really work. I'm not going to publicly commit to anything except the Rumbelle Secret Santa. (That's what I consider the good kind of obligation, where I'm writing for one specific person and not the amorphous collective of "my readers.") Plus I usually come up with good stuff for RSS, stuff I might not do otherwise.

Finding "stuff I might not do otherwise" is kind of my goal right now. Towards the end of Courtship, I found myself hating the process of writing itself. Not necessarily the plot or the characters or anything in the scene. Just... I hated every word in the English language. I think I need a new perspective on that.

I'm a shameless re-reader of my old fics. On this latest round, I noticed myself re-using phrases and words between fics. And not even in a poetic way or an "invisible said" way, but in a way that made me worry that I had run out of ways to put words in order.

I know every author has their quirks. (Read The Wheel of Time and take a shot every time someone "throws up their hands.") But for me it felt like more of a rut than a groove. Like I was taking the easiest, fastest way to get a chapter done--which, yeah, a lot of times I am. I think there is value in a deadline. I think "finish it and make the next one better" is a good rule to write by. The worry is that I'm not making the next one better. I worry that I'm repeating myself, making phrases by rote instead of thinking up something that is new to me.

I've been writing fics and posting them consistently for five years now. I think I've become workmanlike--and so everything feels like work. It's not play anymore. I'm not finding new things. I'm not pushing my own limits. I'm not making myself better.

So that's my next goal, to fall back in love with the process, with the language. I'm not sure how that's going to happen. I want to challenge myself, but still stay within the framework of a fanfic.

(Like, I tried to think of 'what's the opposite of what I usually write?' and all I could think of were, like, fics about sports where there's no sex or relationship building at all. Or like xenofiction? Writing from the perspective of an alien or an animal? Is that Rumbelle-able? Would that be too weird, even for me? How can I find something I haven't done that is still something I find interesting?)

I might end up writing a totally normal angsty-kinky-love-story that just doesn't include the letter 'e.' Challenge myself that way.

Because the beauty of fanfic is telling the same story in different ways. It is about seeing two people fall in love in every universe. I just need to find a way to make that fresh again, so I'm not frustrating and disappointing myself.

As I said way back at the beginning of this post, the first step is to take a break. Rest, recuperate, think about other things. Inspiration comes when we're not looking at it.

My second step is to start reading again. Reading things that aren't just my own work, and not even fanfic. I've been meaning to get back into physical books for a while now. I think it'll be good for me in all kinds of ways. Right now I'm revisting a childhood favorite, The Outcasts of 19 Schuyler Place. The great thing about kid's books is they're short, they're direct, and they can have a lot of fun with language.

I think I need more of that.