#just write babes

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[starrylevi]

Obsessed with the idea that people forget you have Captain Levi’s heart until they see him do little things for you. Like at breakfast, before his morning meeting with Erwin, he’ll pass by your table and casually hand you a loaded plate. “They didn’t have those croissants you usually like but I found those weird ass pastries you can’t stop talking about.” And then he’ll just walk away without saying anything else. Or like, while you’re all suiting up for a mission, he’ll randomly walk up to you and adjust the thigh straps of your odm gear to make sure they’re properly secured and you’re just like “!!!” inside. Or like for every group meeting he arrives early and saves you the seat next to him and when you arrive, he’ll pull out your chair, waiting till you sit so he can briefly place his hand on your thigh as a greeting 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[stemmmm]

doodles i did for theseus' guide when chapter 2 was first written a month ago :3

id like to take the blame for ford being hit with the cowboy beam but it's just a more refined version of stumps original design ideas. all of the details on the outfit have a purpose! except the quartz necklace. that ones just for fun

[willowser]

katsuki blames the alcohol for making him stupid.

really stupid.

not that he's had a lot, but his tolerance is low for a guy of his size, and he can feel the edges of his inhibitions dulling with every drink of whatever denki has shoved in his hand. it doesn't taste like absolute shit, which is rare enough to have him indulging, just a bit, for the agency halloween party.

another sip has his head feeling a little swimmy, and before he knows it, his eyes are trailing across the room until they find you. again.

whatever the hell you're supposed to be tonight—a witch, or something else in a pointy hat—is really fucking with him, and has since you walked in. the costume isn't revealing in a sense that it's inappropriate for a work event, but it's...hugging you in all the right places. in every single one of them.

without tights, it would be on the too-short side, but—and no, katsuki can't fucking explain this—something about them is making everything worse. and your calf-high boots ain't helping, either.

it's just—your fucking—hips.

katsuki couldn't tell you what song is playing, but you're swaying back and forth to the tune and one of his canines digs into the plastic of his cup, so deeply that it makes a terrible creaking sound and dents beneath the pressure—and that's when a sharp elbow is delivered to the center of his chest.

mina is at his side when he looks, and her wide, freaky eyes scan his face before narrowing in her little shit-eating way.

"you're a pig."

katsuki chokes, and the little freak takes that as an admission of some kind.

"oh my god," she gasps, mouth falling in all her disgust and awe. "you can't even deny it!" and then she laughs, high and chirpy, and there's no way you can't hear her. "oh, you're down bad."

"cram it," he snaps, sinking his scowl into his cup. "i dunno what the hell you're talkin' about."

"you know i really thought better of you," mina sniffs effectively, turning her face up and away. "not the type to be blantly checking out somebody's ass."

katsuki bristles, and his aggrivation growns until the plastic in his hands starts to melt. "i wasn't—"

"i'm kidding!" mina snorts before flicking him in the nose, narrowly dodging the hand he swipes out at her. "quit being a baby and go shoot your shot already."

"piss. off."

but the hero is unaffected by him, simply scrunching up her face in response before turning on her heel to disappear further into the party.

she's wrong, katsuki thinks, because he's not a pig like sero or fucking dunce face or even kirishima, from time to time, who gets red in the face over a low cut shirt and a pair of tits.

fucking ridiculous, katsuki thinks, because he's way better than that.

it's just—the alcohol. that's making his lids heavy and his thoughts dark and his face hot. has him peeking at you over the lip of his cup, has him picturing you in his head when he's forced to look away.

and, well, maybe, the short cut of your dress has a little something to do with it, too—but he's keeping that shit to himself.

taking it to the grave, even.

[rochenn]

Eye Level, pt. I

Getting into the comic groove by making Dooku (loneliest most pathetic man in the galaxy) develop a Thing for his tailor. Part two in progress!

[lost-in-fandoms]

I love your writing so much!! If you are taking prompts (no pressure!!!!): daniel doing something cute for max’s bday while they are together in Perth after Singapore ❤️

Hello, I love you!! You are SO nice and I appreciate you sending a prompt! This was probably not what you were envisioning, even if there are cute things happening, but I hope you like it anyway. I wanted more birthday stuff but it sort of ran away from me. Also, this is about 2k oh god.

Daniel figured out in the early days, even before they were actually together, that Max doesn't care much about his birthday.

He will never say no to cake (unless his trainer gives him really mean looks), he appreciates gifts, and he loves a good party, but he has no real feelings about it being his birthday.

Daniel had asked him about it once, wondering if maybe there was some sort of deep rooted trauma behind it he didn't know about, but Max had just shrugged, easy and relaxed. It is not important, Daniel, when I get old, if I am getting older every day.

He knows that this year Max has no plans for it, and knows that neither of them minds, both just wanting a quiet day with each other.

It's been...a lot, lately.

Even here, away from the crowds and the hungry world that has just recently spit him out, like a bitter and unwanted bite, it's not been easy to let everything go.

The first two days after landing they had barely left the bed, sleeping and kissing lazily, too drained to even have sex. The third day they had spent with Daniel's family. The fourth, the one when the news had become official for the world, he had gotten horrifically drunk, in a way he hadn't done in years, Max being the one providing glasses of water for once and hands on his forehead while he was crying over a toilet bowl. He doesn't have many memories of the fifth one, spent nursing the worst hungover on this side of thirty.

And then he had tried to start his new life.

He doesn't know yet how that will look like, which makes it harder, but he's taking one step at a time, like his mom has been telling him.

Yesterday's step had been joining Max for some training, because he doesn't want to actually become a couch potato, and looking into finding a new internet provider after Max's numerous complaints.

Today's first step is going to be the farmers market.

He considers waking up Max for it, but it's barely seven a.m., and he doesn't actually want to be threatened with bodily harm this early in the day, so he leaves him with a kiss (Max doesn't even stir) and a post-it note on the bedside table.

It doesn't take long for him to decide that the farmers market isn't for him, at least not yet. Maybe it's an acquired taste, but there's just too much going on, bustling people pressing around him, vendors loudly calling out prices, colorful things attracting his attention everywhere, making his head spin.

He manages to get what he wanted and then flees, back to the safety of his car and towards the quiet of the farm.

It's only when he's halfway there that he realises that a few years ago he would have loved all of it, and then has to force himself to not have an existential crisis over it, wondering if it's just a result of getting old, or if something about the last few months has irrevocably broken him.

When he pokes his head into the bedroom, he finds that Max is awake, sitting up against the headboard, phone in hand and blankets pooled around his waist, looking soft and sleep-mussed.

"Good morning," Daniel says, stepping inside and feeling the warmth of Max's smile wrap around his lungs. "Happy birthday."

Max, impossibly, seems to soften further, his ears growing pinker.

"Thank you," he says, his voice still raspy with sleep. He reaches for Daniel, but he holds up a hand, taking a step back towards the door.

"Hold on, I have something for you. Don't move."

He watches as Max makes a show of settling back against the pillows and stilling there, beaming at him when Daniel laughs, retreating in the other room.

He comes back holding a paper bag and a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other, offering both to Max with a smile, refusing to feel self conscious about it.

Max blinks up at him, fingers just a touch away from Daniel's hand, surprise and confusion mixing on his face.

"For me?" he asks, soft and amazed.

Daniel nods, not really trusting himself to speak, and Max finally closes the distance, wrapping his fingers around the bunch of stems and taking the flowers from Daniel, pulling them close to his chest and burying his face into the colorful petals.

Daniel doesn't really know what kinds of flowers they are, he just chose a few that looked pretty, but he doesn't think it matters. Not when Max looks up at him again, cheeks red and eyes bright, smiling wide wide wide, happy and lovely.

"Thank you, Daniel," he says, so earnestly it cracks something open in Daniel's chest, unwanted and unexpected, making him feel like everything is too much once again.

Luckily, Max seems to notice, because he always notices, and he settles the flower gently on the blankets, uncaring of the wet stems, before tugging Daniel down in his lap. His hands are solid weights on Daniel's hips, and for the first time since he woke up that morning, Daniel feels like he can breathe fully, settled and steady, the feeling of being adrift that he had refused to acknowledge pushed away for a little while longer.

"What's in there?" Max asks, thumbs rubbing circles on Daniel's hipbones, gesturing with his chin towards the paper bag still in Daniel's hand.

The smell of baked goods has for sure given it away already, but Daniel makes a show of it, extracting a croissant as if it was a bunny from a magic hat, wishing Max's laughter could seep right into his bloodstream, weaving itself around his cells.

Max bites into the croissant cheerfully, not minding the flaky crumbs that rain down on the sheets, thanking Daniel again and humming his approval.

Daniel's chest feels warm.

"What's that?" Max asks again while he chews, pointing at the orange juice.

"Orange juice," Daniel tells him, untwisting the cap and offering the bottle to him, missing Max's hand as soon as it's gone. "Watched Marco squeeze it fresh myself."

He does his best to keep his face straight as Max hesitates, bottle halfway up to his mouth, eyes narrowing.

"Marco?"

"Charming guy, yes," Daniel teases, unable to keep himself from smiling any longer, amused by Max's frown, "about sixty years old."

The frown disappears as fast as it had formed, and Max smirks at him, finally taking a sip.

"Forty years too old for you," he says once he has swallowed, laughing at Daniel's outraged squeak.

Max makes it up to him by offering him the middle bite of the croissant, sweet custard oozing onto his fingers, and then again by kissing Daniel thoroughly, sweet with vanilla and sugar.

"I have something else," Daniel tells him some time later, when they're all kissed out, pushing away from Max's chest and clambering back onto his feet.

Max follows him without question, tugging on a pair of shorts abandoned on the floor, and grabbing the flowers from the bed, taking them to the kitchen counter before joining Daniel outside.

Daniel grabs his hand, because he can here, away from prying eyes, and guides him around the porch to a cardboard box peeping quietly.

Max gasps, immediately crouching in front of it and opening it, letting out a surprised laugh when he sees what's inside: four little chicks, fluffy and pale yellow, tweeting up at him.

"You said we needed them to have a real farm," he says, carding his fingers through Max's hair, "and mom said I needed a project."

Max has his fingers in the box already, trying to pet the chicks without startling them, but he leans back to beam up at him, eyes crinkling.

"I love them," he declares, steady and unashamed, before turning back to the box.

This time, he manages to scoop two chicks up in his cupped hands, taking them out and cradling them against his chest, humming happily.

"I think you're their mama now," Daniel jokes, "you'll have to come back for them."

He knows he's said the wrong thing as soon as it's out of his mouth, Max's shoulders tensing, even as his hands stay gentle around the chicks. He doesn't know how to backtrack though, doesn't really want to, so he watches as Max puts them down again and gets up, knees cracking.

He goes to make a joke about that too, something about Max getting old, but the words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Max's unhappy expression.

"Of course I'm coming back, Daniel," Max says with a frown, steely certainty behind it. "Did you think I was going to leave and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, crossing his arms and looking away, blinking rapidly.

"I..." Daniel swallows, picking at a cuticle on his thumb. "I'm sorry."

It's again the wrong thing to say, Max turning back towards him, eyes shiny and thunderous expression.

"I love you, Daniel," he snaps, forceful and determined. "I love you, Daniel, not the you who races. I am not going to fuck off and leave just because..."

He shakes his head, reels himself in. Daniel doesn't know if he's breathing, but if he was, he stops when Max steps closer, bringing his hands up to cup his cheeks.

"I will have to leave, because I need to finish this season, and maybe the next, I don't know, but I am always coming back. Any time I can find time, I will be here. Or in LA, or wherever you will decide to be."

Max swipes his thumb along Daniel's cheekbone, leaning forward to gently thump their foreheads together.

"I wish you were racing with me," he whispers, a confession he hadn't let Daniel have yet. Daniel's heart is split open. "Always it is better, to race with you. I thought we would be racing until we both retired, but I don't care that it is different. I will miss you, when you're here and I am there, and then I will come back."

Max's fingers are damp with Daniel's tears now, and Daniel lets himself be tugged closer, wrapped in the safest arms he knows, hiding his face in Max's neck.

"I'm sorry," he croaks again when he finally finds his voice again, twisting his hands on the back of Max's sleep shirt.

He feels Max's take a deep breath, letting it out against Daniel's hair.

"I wish I could fix it," he says slowly, measuring his words, "but I don't like when you say that I will leave. I have never left. I will not start now."

And he's right, Daniel knows he's right, but it's been hard to remember what he still has lately, after everything went down.

He nods against Max's skin and then lets Max hold him, gently rocking side to side, the chicks peeping softly at their feet, until he doesn't feel like he's going to break with every stuttering breath anymore.

"I was thinking we could go down to the trail," he murmurs, lips dragging against Max's damp shirt. "Take some food, have a picnic. I bought bread rolls."

Max squeezes him tightly once more before putting some distance between them to be able to look at his face, smiling gently.

"I like that. You can make the food while I take the babies to their new coop."

Daniel freezes.

"You have bought a coop too, right Daniel?" Max asks, eyebrows raising. Daniel can feel himself blush.

"I...didn't think about it?" he tries to justify himself.

For a second Max just stares at him, and then he starts laughing, dropping his head against Daniel's chest.

"Stop laughing at me!" Daniel whines, hitting Max's shaking back, but making no move to step away.

Max hits him back, then straightens himself, laughter still etched in the lines of his face.

"Alright," he says, slightly out of breath, "we are going to buy a coop instead. Or build a coop, I don't know what is better, we'll have to call your dad. And we'll do the trail tomorrow, or the day after."

Tomorrow, or the day after.

It seems to hit Daniel all at once, that this is the start. He has tomorrow, and the day after, to do anything he wants. To go on hikes with his boyfriend, to think about new projects, to pick up old hobbies and interests, no schedules to stop him. And he will have tomorrow, and the day after, even when Max has to leave to go racing again, because Max will come back, to have more tomorrows, and the days after, with him.

He surges forward, crashing his lips against Max's, who gasps in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, until all that's left in his brain is tomorrow and Max.

Only then he lets Max go again, stepping back with a smile.

"Let's go get a house for the babies, baby."

And in the lines of Max's smile he can almost see it already: tomorrow, and the day after.

[novasintheroom]

The first time Vash calls you ‘baby,’ it’s too soft to hear.

He does it when you aren’t looking, too distracted by the notebook in your lap. You’re looking beautiful in the morning sunlight, and, he doesn’t know, it just hits him to call you it.

It’s a whisper. A hint of a word. It rolls in his mouth like a marble, smooth and warm. He’s afraid to spit it out. Instead, his lips meet twice, a formation of what he wants to say: Baby.

You don’t see it. Definitely don’t hear it. He clears his throat and goes on to ask what he meant to: “Do you want jerky or a granola bar for breakfast?" To that, you respond with a hum and an answer, missing the way he grimaces at his own cowardice.

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

Danny’s parents want to kill him and he’s like “f in the chat y’all dinner boutta be so awkward tonight smh”

Ok so I know everyone loves the angsty headcannons where Danny is terrified of his parents cuz they wanna kill him but we’ve had that hot take since 2005 I’m here for a source material revival, the much more entertaining “Danny’s parents want to kill him and he actively doesn’t give a fuck”

CUZ UH, IM REWATCHING THE FIRST SEASON AND I FORGOT HOW GENUINELY BLASÉ HE IS ABOUT MADDIE AND JACK TRYING TO GET HIS ASS ITS SO FUNNY.

Like mom holding a literal ghost gun to his head: eh kinda unphased he even has time to quip, his parents say they wanna tear em to pieces: meh see u guys at dinner, LIKE OUR GUY IS SO UNPHASED HE THINKS THIS SHIT IS FUNNY! (s1 ep. 14 public enemy)

And he’s unphased despite knowing his parents tech works and knowing that his mother is actually a good shot. So like I love angst Danny and y’all should keep up the good work but where is my s1 Danny ‘COULDN’T give less of a fuck about his parents’ Fenton representation?

Cuz think of this, for your DPXDC AU consideration, Danny would fit in so well with the bat gang if only because they could try to stab, shoot, capture, brainwash, and stalk him and he’d be like “oh cool villain of the week shit? Nice, what’re we having for lunch.” He. Wouldn’t. Flinch.

[snowdrop-yoongi]

my favorite thing about baek hyun-woo's portrayal is that he isn't even a loser. he's an incredibly cool and competent lawyer who also happens to act like a loser

[frownyalfred]

do you ever just open an ao3 email and —

[dyketennant]

it's always "when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night with your head in your hands you're nothing more than his wife and when you think about me all of those years ago you're standing face to face with i told you so" and never "when you told me 'bout your first time a soccer player at the senior high i felt my body crumble to the floor betrayal like i've never felt before i thought back to many years ago a late night promise on the telephone we'd build a house of twigs and vines grow old together just to pass the time now there's only past and present day i can't believe a word you say the future isn't worth its weight in gold the future is a benevolent black hole"

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Like no I get that fanfic feels like a big deal but it literally isn’t.

It is just you playing barbies with your blorblos to exorcise trauma or make yourself laugh or anything in that very large category.

To writers: if you aren’t inspired, drop the project. If you don’t love the fandom, leave. If you have a 20th new idea and all you ever write are beginnings you are still a writer.

Fuck everyone this is your archive and I am tired of the pressure writers are putting on themselves. (And that other people are putting on writers)

The internet is on fire and we are floating on a rock in space for fuck’s sake post your forever unfinished chapter of that one fic you know you will never finish. It doesn’t matter what others think, only what you think.

Maybe this chapter is the only thing you will write of this story and maybe someone will read it and go « god damn » and get inspired to do their own thing WE DON’T KNOW HOW THE WORLD WORKS.

My point is it’s fanfiction it can be terrible and it can be bad and anyone who reads it and thinks wow this is bad and COMMENTS on it is a fandom idiot who doesn’t understand how fandom works and is therefore irrelevant.

Practice and write that shitty half baked story and only write a bit of it.

The next one will be better.

The one after will be worse.

Your brain just hasn’t locked in on the recipe. Keep stirring the pot, try new ingredients, don’t freeze because you aren’t getting it right.

[robogart]

I've just had a bad memory my whole life lmao it's fine! Definitely Not A Symptom Of An Underlying Mental Illness And Childhood Coping Mechanisms 😎👍✨

[naffeclipse]

Talk about your monster husband ocs coward (affectionate❤️)

Everyone, the tumblr user themeeplord is bullying me (affectionate <3)!!

You have no idea how normal I am about my monster OCs. They're so lovely just let me—ahhh!

Hawthorn is a Mothman monster. His wings are based on the garden tiger moth and he is so fluffy! He has a thick fuzz on his neck and chest and is a warm, cuddlebug. He also possesses bright orange eyes that pierce the darkness and startle the unfortunate late-night hikers or anyone piercing into the woods after midnight.

He has a thing for hanging out in the thick woods near where the MC lives. Wherever he goes, bad omens follow. He really shouldn't be near MC—he knows he'll be the death of his precious little human, but he can't help it. He's drawn to the MC like a moth to a flame (heheh). He's delightful and gentlemanly, but don't let that fool you. He's got a possessive stretch a mile wide and does not take kindly to anyone giving the MC looks or reaching out for a too-familiar touch. He will bristle and buzz, and fly swift and silent through the darkness to chase after anyone to ensure the MC stays all to himself. He is a bad omen, after all.

Grease is an oil demon! He feeds off of fear, literally, and delights in terrifying people in the night. His body is slick and iridescent, and he is constantly dripping black goo from his person. He is capable of shifting his form to hide in a puddle, slink underneath doors, or bubble through a crack in a broken window. He's got wicked sharp teeth, and eyes like a tiger but with a pale, unsettling blue color. He possesses tendrils on his head that constantly drip and a long, slick tail that he can use to grab MC by the ankle. He's terribly seductive and charming, terrifying but mischievous. He likes to say 'boo' just to watch MC jump. Of course, he's not all tang and salt. He's got a sweet side that rouses in a protectiveness over MC. He's possessive, sure, and he's marked his claim with the oil stains on MC's work apron, but he's got an ooey-gooey center of sweetness that MC occasionally finds when he blushes at a stray touch or a nice comment about him.

Calmo 91, otherwise just called Calmo, is a robot. Constructed in the 90s with a box TV screen head to match, he has bright yellow optics in the screen face along with thick wires falling behind his head in a ponytail-like fashion. He is cool and difficult to read but wickedly intelligent and learning much about humans and affections. His body is a thin endoskeleton with plastic matt gray coverings that give peeks of blue, red, and yellow wires at his metallic joints. He's got a mysterious past the MC is attempting to unravel that he truly wishes the MC would leave be. He's got much to learn about technology but he quickly figures out how to connect to the MC's phone for texting, phone calls, and other useful things of course, like keeping tags on where MC is and monitoring MC's heart rate. Useful tools. Modern technology. Living in the MC's house, he gets to spend more domestic time with the human he decided is kind and generous, but the MC occasionally finds him at the foot of the bed in the darkness, his yellow optics strangely switched to red until the MC says his name and his optics revert back to yellow again.

[inkluvs]

i love the idea of finnick who sits on ur bed and watches u get ready for something like it’s the most interesting thing in the world and he’s just like. in awe the whole time <3 and ur a little late to a date but why would he complain when ur lips r shiny with freshly applied gloss and u just turned to him to ask what he thinks <3

[14dayswithyou]

Howdy howdy Saint ^^ Get this, Olivia and angel, enemies to lovers. They fight over Ren (or Teo 😋), but it's ok because they just make out in the end!!

Is this in character or no...

cw: Angel puts on gloss in this drabble (they're testin out Kiara's new makeup products), but it's still gender neutral and nondescript!!

Also... Not much enemies to lovers goin on here because I got impatient writing my own build up sgshjghjsjh

"Hmph. I did not get all dressed up just to be ignored like this."

With a slight pout, Olivia slouches against the reception desk and stomps her foot. Her eyes hadn't left Teo and Elanor's figures the moment she walked into the library — that is until you stepped out from the employee's lounge with a new tester product from Kiara in your hands.

Almost immediately, Olivia turns her attention towards you as she slams her hands on the counter in excitement.

"And you... That gloss looks way too good on you to go to waste!" You don't miss the way she eyes your lips curiously. The scowl on her face could've been mistaken for resentment, though her next words only seemed to contradict everything. "Wait... I know that tint— Is it Creston and Co? ...Could I try some? Please!"

With a grin, you gently cup Olivia's chin and lean in. Her eyes widen at your sudden proximity and a small gasp leaves her lips — clearly, she wasn't expecting you to do that — though she doesn't seem to move away. In fact, Olivia only seems to lean closer... Close enough to stand on her tip-toes and press her plush lips against yours.

Something sweet melds with the taste of your own fruity gloss, and you find yourself leaning in for more. Olivia happily obliges, tilting her head to the side with practised ease and gently reaching out to bury her hands in the front of your jacket.

The kiss deepens the moment you feel something warm against your lips, and just as you are about to reciprocate, you hear a deep grumble of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Conan.

Flushed, you pull back almost immediately while Olivia sends you an impish smile. You don't dare to look behind you, though you somehow know that Conan has already retreated into the very same staff lounge you emerged from previously.

"Hehe! Thanks for that!" With Teo now long forgotten, Olivia grabs one of your hands and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Hey... Wanna head to the pier after your shift? I think I'd like your attention all to myself now."