#sharing this before I finish it because I forget to share WIPS

[ohnoitspheo]

[WIP] These Sillies 💃🌼🌈

I can’t believe I haven’t drawn these three together?

They’re a wacky unofficial family in my eyes: The sassy goddess mom, the eldest “mature” child and the attention seeking youngest + pet sheep.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my September 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Godless, Graceless, and Young by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (110k)

Seattle, Washington, 1991

It takes a special breed to have a slacker persona and still be a millionaire rockstar. Harry is about halfway there. He's the guitarist in a Seattle grunge band that could finally be headed somewhere, but he's also been sleeping on his bassist's sofa for the last three months and has been fired from every day-job he's had. Money doesn't equal success, but it does pay the bills.

When a job offer and a new lead singer stumble into Harry's life, he might be getting a lot more than he bargained for. Like a couple of extra gigs and a boy who can teach him more than just how to mix a few drinks, and it's gonna take a few band brawls and a whole lot of heart-searching to get there.

He's gotta have one somewhere...

Coax the Cold by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (86k)

England, 1897.  

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Late Nights and Good Intentions by princelouisau / @princelouisau (71k)

“About last night,” Harry says suddenly, as if he’d been debating on whether to say anything. Louis whips back around to look at him.

“Do not finish that thought,” Louis says just as abruptly.

Harry looks at him oddly, as if assessing him. With a small frown, it seems the assessment is over. “I only wish to say that you do not have to dwell on it. The rest of the men will surely forget by tonight.”

“And you?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Will you forget?”

“I will remember every second of it fondly,” the Lord says, no trace of a tease in his words. or, a Victorian era au where Louis pines for his overprotective older brother’s very charming best friend.

For You, I Would Ruin Myself by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (54k) WIP

It was the perfect last day of summer. They built sandcastles, wrote their names in the sand, and caught crabs, which they eventually let go when one of them pinched Louis and he was near tears. Afterward, they swam in the ocean, splashing each other playfully before moving toward one another in sync, lips pressing together in sweet kisses. When their skin turned prune-like, they returned to shore, laying out on their towels beneath the bright sun, snacking on fruit and chocolate while talking about everything and nothing.

At some point, Harry had shared, “I think this has been my favorite summer yet.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, a smile peeking out as though he already knew. He looked so pretty and cool with his sun-kissed skin and black Ray-Bans covering his eyes.

Harry rolled over on his towel until he was half-pressed against Louis and placed his palms on top of Louis’ chest, tucking his chin over them. “Because I had you.”

or

Harry’s unrequited crush on Louis turns into a whirlwind summer romance, only to leave him heartbroken in the end. Years later, a return to his hometown forces Harry to confront his past and the one person he was running from.

Tarnished but so Grand by tilthesundies / @tllthesundies (32k)

Louis hides in places. Harry always finds him.

I'll Be Your Love Tonight by dinosaursmate (20k)

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from you.” “So don’t.” Harry ran a fingertip over Louis’ thigh. “Stay with me.” - It's the summer of 1999 and Louis Tomlinson has been abandoned at a house party. A dispute over Smirnoff Ice and several night buses later, Louis is unsure how he'll ever walk away from this lovely, curly-haired boy.

Green in the Morning and Blue Afternoon by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (14k)

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or a Friends AU.

A Few of My Favourite Things by sweariwouldnt / @sweariwouldnt (8k)

Harry and Louis do cat sitting.

[stanpinesdykewife]

Are you still working on that angsty fic where the reader tells Stan he doesn't have a say in who they talk to or fuck? That little sneak peek alone had so much delicious drama, I'm so curious to know if you intend on finishing it.

YES yes i do! wow i can't believe you remember that!! yes, i plan on finishing it but my writer's block has been pretty heavy... but it means a lot that you asked!! i know i've been pretty bad at keeping my promises lately HAHA but since you asked and since i still can't tell you when i'll finish it, i'm happy to share a little more of that scene under the cut!!! hopefully this will help hold you over until i start churning out content again:

lady plumber WIP stan/reader (fem) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified angst and smut, 997 words (picking up from this snippet!)

“I'm not yours. I don't belong to you.” You catch the rest of your words in your throat. You don't want me. You don't want me.

For a few moments, Stan is speechless. He stares at you, his eyes searching your expression, his mouth opening and closing and opening again. You stand there, staring at each other, and the rest of the bar laughs and drinks and shifts around you.

Stan’s brown eyes shine in the dim lights, and he purses his lips. Darts his tongue out to wet them before opening them again, taking a breath in like he wants to say something. But you—fuck, you fucking hate that you’re doing this—your eyes flicker down to watch his tongue, and they stay there to watch the thin sheen of spit glistening beneath a pink spotlight. Your gaze lingers for a beat too long. When you look back up at Stan’s eyes, his brows are raised. Then he relaxes. His lips curl back into a crooked grin. You already know you’re fucked.

“Doin’ what?” Stan asks lowly, still looking at you. You finally look away, lowering your head to look at the back of your own hand, willing it to move. Stan’s hand comes up between your bodies, and he presses it against yours, and his touch is so gentle. His hand covers yours entirely. He flattens your palm against his chest. The hair there tickles the sensitive skin of your wrist. “Look at me, will ya?”

“I know you don’t,” Stan says cooly, like he’s approaching a spooked horse. The simile is apt, because when he takes a small step forward with his hands raised, you have half the mind to kick him in the head with all your strength before running away. But you’re frozen in place, like you’ve sunken six inches in mud and silt and your nice shoes are all fucked up but you’d do more damage trying to take them off. You don’t move as Stan comes closer, and closer, and your head is forced to tilt up to see his face.

“Stop,” you say, your voice sounding much too soft in the bustle of the bar. Your hand comes up, meant to dissuade him from coming any closer, but it doesn’t work. All it does is press your hand against Stan’s bare skin when he stands right in front of you, and your knees go weak at the warmth from his chest, the heat melting against your fingertips, all the way up your arm, warming you up from the inside out. You say, softer this time, “Stop doing that.”

You look up. Stan smiles down at you.

“Let’s talk this out,” he suggests, “somewhere more private.”

You fucking hate yourself.

You nod.

Twenty minutes later, Stan is pressing you facedown on your bed as he pounds into you from behind. He’s fucking you so well you can almost forget the shame boiling beneath your surface.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whine, gripping the edge of the pillow. You're drooling into it, spit and moans and unholy little gasps falling out of your mouth and soaking the soft cotton. You don't care. Stan’s dick is so big in you, so deep, and the stretch feels so good. It's like your body's been waiting for him to come back, to make room for himself again. You repeat yourself, moaning into the pillow, “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Fuckin’—shit,” Stan curses, breathing heavily from behind you. He has a bruising grip on your waist, drawing you back every time he drives into your cunt. You don't expect an actual response from him, not really. So it's not your fault your heart skips when he says, “Missed you, too, babe. Missed this perfect cunt.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath catching in anticipation. Then Stan squeezes your waist, adjusts his grip slightly so his calloused fingertips are in that crook between your thigh and hip, and a low moan draws out of you. “You missed me?”

“Fuck—Yeah,” Stan grunts, fucking into you with fervor, and the swell of feeling in your chest makes you shudder, makes your face flush. “Missed the way you feel around me. So fuckin’ tight. And the way you sound when I…”

He trails off to thrust hard into you, forcing your body forward a few inches. Then he grinds, making you cry out, and one of his hands slips down underneath your hips to find your clit. He's so rough about it that you instinctively startle forward, but Stan just grabs you with his other hands and pulls your hips back to be flush against his. His fingers let up a little and you melt, moaning loud into the pillow, your hips rocking back, and forth, into his hand, back onto his dick, in your own perfect rhythm.

“Yeah. There it is,” Stan huffs behind you, a smile playing at his voice. But he sounds just as hazy and sex-drunk as you do, high with the incredible rush of breaking a dry spell for some good fucking sex.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if that's the best way to describe it. A tolerance break. A relapse. You wonder if you’re addicted to fucking this handsome man who's so much older than you, so much meaner to you than he has any right to be. You wonder if it's dangerous. If there’s any merit to that small part of you that insists on packing all your shit and changing your name and driving, alone, until your car breaks down in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, left with your inanimate belongings and a soreness in your chest and a cold, empty passenger seat.)

Then Stan says, “That's right. Moaning so pretty for me, sweetheart.” (And you decide you’re better off not thinking about it.)

[starmocha]

All of the smut scenes are written (three lol 😭✌️) no two diccs cry about it

I cannot emphasize enough that this is still an AU one-shot with me interpreting Sylus as an East Asian dragon with many Chinese/Vietnamese influences in the story

I can't wait to read his myth tomorrow and hopefully I can glean some canon details I can apply to this fic to make it feel even more like Sylus

I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel 🥹 A little project I started 2.5 months ago on a whim and some vibes, I didn't expect it to reach this high of a word count and still rising

OK, here's probably my last wip preview while I finish the story. (Maybe...7 more scenes? The first 2/3 of the story is more or less finished and the ending is already written. The climax is really the last part that is the most struggling to write right now even though I have the notes and scenes I want for it. 😔)

Prelude is already out! Read it if you haven't, and request to be added to the taglist if you're intrigued by the upcoming main story. <333

“Indeed,” he agreed, pouring some osmanthus wine into two crimson cups. He handed one to you. “We must enjoy a drink or two tonight.” “I would think some tea would be more appropriate with our mooncakes,” you argued, but you accepted the little cup nonetheless. You held it between your fingers and eyed it skeptically, remembering the last time you had drank some of his liquor and suffered the immediate consequence the following morning. “We can have some tea as well,” he said, smiling before tossing his drink back. He sighed blissfully, his eyes seemed to twinkle with joy. “With a good atmosphere, and some lovely company, it is only natural one would want to enjoy a drink or two.” You frowned at his cheeky reasoning, giving him a disapproving shake of your head, to which he only laughed it off. You scoffed, “You will say anything to find a reason to drink.” “I will not argue with that,” Shin answered, grinning. He poured another drink into his cup, and then to your surprise, he hooked his arm around yours, the wine cups crossed, yours moved closer to your lips while Shin’s was near his. “The alcohol is not as strong as what you had drank last time. You will enjoy this, Miss.” “Sh-Shin, what are you doing?” “We should practice,” he murmured, “For when we are wedded and share our first drink as husband and wife.” You blushed. The delicate floral scent of the osmanthus wafted from the wine cup. You looked at Shin, and he continued to smile, waiting for your next move. Your eyes softened. “You still want to marry me?” “I have never stopped,” he murmured, and you noticed a sad tinge in his eyes. You wondered why you would catch moments like this, when his smiles would disappear, and a cloak of melancholy seemed to cover him. “Such devoted words,” you whispered back, and he smiled again, but just as before, you saw no joy in his expression.

You can pass me by because you Forgot about me Because until you remember I will Wait for you ☆ Don’t ever forget the truth that I was by your side Don’t erase my heart that could sacrifice Everything for you ☆ My love, look at me Do you still love me?

[xmysweetcreaturex]

WIP Wednesday (Friday)/ Last Line Tag

I just wanna share my work 😫

A little scene from the MOTA Apocalypse AU that @polifandom and I are working on ✨ This one is a little bit thicker and spicier like John- which is good because its his pov lol

Despite his natural physique and stature, John’s never been the bigger man, metaphorically speaking. John’s never been one to back down from a fight; he only knows how to add fuel to the fire. The only problem is that sometimes he has to watch as the whole thing burns to the ground, sometimes with him in it .

“Starting to worry-”, John scoffs, “All you do is worry! It’s always ‘John do this’ and ‘John do that’. Do you get off on CONSTANTLY bossing me around? You got some unresolved Daddy issues, you’re trying to work through with me?”

Gale is as silent as the grave, his mouth pulled tightly into a thin line.

“Huh- Answer me, Gale!” John yells louder. The rapid beat of heart and the sound of his own rushing blood in his ears seems to spur him further; moving to stand directly in front of Gale and shove at his shoulders.

Buck absorbs the jolt as gracefully as one can with their boots sliding in the mud. He looks John up and down before staring back into the other man’s feral gaze as he breathes out a condescending chuckle through his nose.

“Have to have a Daddy first, wouldn’t I? ” Buck says bitterly, as he barges him out of the way to go sit at the river bank.

And it's like someone came up and popped the bubble that stood around them containing all of John’s misplaced anger and vitriol.

He thinks the ‘funniest’ thing about being a ‘firecracker’, a ‘hot head’, or a ‘loose cannon’ is that sometimes he starts fights he doesn’t wanna finish, not actually. Sometimes he starts a whole tangent only to realize half way through that he doesn’t know what he is talking about, or why he brought it up in the first place, or worse, he doesn’t even care, not really.

In the end, it’s the fallout that kills him. All the horrible things he’s said and all the people he’s hurt. It’s the kind of feeling that gnaws on his insides until he feels like there’s nothing left of him. That’s why he drinks.

It softens the edges and smooths the lines, makes him forget, makes him not care about the outcome or the aftermath. Makes him feel it all moment to moment, nothing is forever. Just chasing the pleasure that fills him up enough so he’d never notice how actually starved he is for genuine connection and love.

Now that it's gone though- he doesn’t want to go down this rabbit hole right now.

If you’d like to take a look at all the snippets and ramblings the ACU (Arcadia Cinematic Universe™️- i will make this a thing) has to offer feel free to peruse #Arcadia using this link.

super chill no pressure tags for these lovely peeps 💞

@antiquitea @soliloquy-dawn @skyyguy @daysofxavierspast @sleepr-agent420 @quick-catton @oopsiedaisiesbaby @feyd-meowtha

free tag @/anyone that would like to do this as well!

[tgm-all4one]

On May 27, 2022, Top Gun: Maverick was released exclusively into theaters. Almost overnight, it became a cultural phenomenon with a fandom of individuals from all over the globe who loved the movie and its characters.

One of the fantastic things about the TG and TGM fandom is the diverse and innovative creators who have used these movies as inspiration for their art. Whether that be in the form of writing, fanart, GIFs, moodboards, edits, etc, we have all taken the same 4 hours and 1 minute of film to create unbelievably varied and original content. And that is what this challenge is about.

What is the "It's not the prompt. It's the creator." challenge?

The idea behind the "It's not the prompt. It's the creator." challenge is to show that even though we might all use similar tropes or AUs, or create GIFs of the same scenes, or use the same moodboard themes, it is our own personal creativity, innovation, and preferences that make our work unique.

So unlike other challenges, everyone will be using the exact same prompt. That's it. One prompt. And an unlimited amount of participants.

And yes, there will probably be art that is similar (either the tropes, themes, characters, etc), however the point is to show that even when two creators have similar independent ideas, their final creation is unique because they put their own original spin on it that only they could do.

What is the prompt?

To celebrate the one-year anniversary of Top Gun: Maverick being released, the prompt is:

"Last summer was one no one could ever forget. Now, a year later, character(s) still feel(s) the effects of that time."

Be as creative as you want and feel free to use any characters from Top Gun (1986) and/or Top Gun: Maverick (2022). Also, while the prompt says a year has passed, there is no set time your art has to be set. It can be pre-canon, post-canon, during-canon, and AU setting, etc. Whatever inspires you!

What is allowed?

Whatever you want. It can be SFW, NSFW, slash, reader insert, OC, no relationship, poly, AU, fluff, smut, angst, whump, etc.

You can also use whatever your preferred medium is to fill the prompt. Writing, artworks, GIF sets, edits, moodboards, playlists, Pinterest boards, etc. Or think out of the box and build a scene out of Legos, make a stop-motion video, draw a flipbook. Whatever inspires you and your creativity! If you created it, it counts.

And there are no minimums or maximums limits for words, time, number of GIFs, etc. Just however much or little you want to share, even if it is still a WIP.

There are only three requirements:

TAG YOUR WORK APPROPRIATELY so others can filter out what they might not be comfortable with. Each post will be checked before being reblogged, however, mistakes can be made so please tag them correctly.

You must be 18+ to participate. Due to the freedom of the event and the fact NSFW content is allowed, only those 18 or older may participate. And if your blog does not have any age indicated on it (18+, 20s, over 21, 35, etc.), your post will not be reblogged. I am very sorry to any minors hoping to participate at this time.

No AI resources can be used as part of a submission. While AI can create cool works of art, they aren't your works of art. As that is the point of this challenge, it will not be permitted.

When does the event take place?

The event will start on Saturday, May 27 and run until Saturday, June 4. However, if you can't finish in time and post after that, this blog will try its best to still reblog your work whenever you feel ready to post.

How do we submit our work?

You can do this one of two ways:

Post your work on your blog as usual and tag @tgm-all4one. Also, tag the post with #tgm all4one. It will then be reblogged here throughout the week.

Submit a post to this blog using the "Submit your papers" button in the blog header. As long as it is tagged correctly, the blog will then post it throughout the week.

There is also an AO3 collection if you prefer to share over there. Please check the FAQ page for the link.

Please check out the FAQ page if you have any questions and please feel free to reach out either through an ask or DM if you have any questions! There is also a condensed version of this post here for quick reference.

I am excited to see what everyone comes up with and happy Top Gun: Maverick anniversary!

[bettsfic]

Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

[streetlightyeri]

Please please please more stuff for boone

I am, do not fret! I've just been busy with work and with working on my other wips (once I get a scene idea, I have to bring it to life immediately so I don't forget it) that I haven't gotten a chance to finish out my boone fic. I'm more than happy to give a sneak peek though!

my writing process is very ridiculous because I don't write in order, but rather patch scenes together, so thats why a lot of my snippet posts are me posting large, plot-important scenes, simply because that might be all that's written. (ie, my Scott post being the scene where he's searching for her. I have the final two scenes written and that one, so that fic is missing the entire beginning and middle third of it lol). that's not the case for this snippet though, this is very much not important to the plot at all, just a moment at the bar.

but this boone fic is giving me a lot of trouble, writing wise. :( part of me just wants to scrap it because it feels so cheesy and wattpad-y. but I did post about nine ball by Zach Bryan last week, so I guess I'll share that scene at the very least, even if everything else gets scrapped. fair warning, this is one of the scenes that I think feels the most wattpad like, so if you cringe easily (like me, I absolutely cannot handle secondhand embarrassment), this might not be the one for you lol.

for reference, "mafia" is Boone (and I guess the rest of the Wrangler's nickname for Rowan, since she always wears sunglasses and a mask). as always, wip posts are unproofread and subject to change <3

"go bet another six pack, bet i make a comeback; i know that this table's got a lean."

“Mafia! Come play a round!” 

Kate and Rowan turned, eyes flitting across the bar to find the owner of the voice. Boone was leaning against the back wall, a pool stick twisting gently in his hand. He moved to point at her once she saw him. She still had her mask and sunglasses on, paying little attention to the people who gave her odd looks. She was used to worse.

Kate made a cutting motion near her neck, silently telling them no.

Tyler called out next, “Come on City Girl! We’ll go easy on y’all!”

Rowan snorted under her mask, but the bar was far too loud for anyone to hear it besides Kate. The blonde hid her smirk in her drink. “We don’t play.”

“One round! Losers buy the winning group’s drinks.”

Kate was about to decline again, but Rowan knocked her arm with her elbow and tossed her head in their direction. She lowered her voice, “Are you sure?”

Rowan nodded. A devious glint danced in Kate’s eyes. A few chasers from other groups shouted out as the two crossed the bar; the StormPar group seemed to be putting their heads together about whether they should leave now or hold out hope for free drinks. Rowan took the pool stick in Boone’s outstretched hand while Kate took Tyler’s. Rowan placed her drink down on the edge of the pool table despite Boone offering to hold it, the coaster she snatched from the bar sitting on top as she chalked the tip. “What’s the rules?”

“No house rules, just the basics. Whoever gets the 8 ball in after clearing their designated group wins.” Boone took a sip of his beer.

Javi jogged up to the pool table, immediately recognizing what was happening. “Come on guys, let’s make it fair. Even if someone gets a ball in the pocket, the turn still ends. That way no one can clear the table without a fair chance.”

Tyler and Boone agreed. Rowan reached out to Javi, asking for her wallet. She pulled out a hundred, placing it in the jar next to the pool table that had “BETS” written on it in Sharpie. Tyler, Boone, and Kate did the same. “Whoever wins keeps their money and uses the loser’s to buy drinks. Sounds good?

Kate and Rowan nodded, the latter reaching up to remove her sunglasses. She parked them on the brim of her hat, not moving her eyes from Boone’s. He blinked hard, his mouth dropping open for a second before Dani clamped her hands on his shoulders as she laughed about what drink she’d be getting, snapping him out of the trance he was in from seeing her eyes for the first time. He bounced back to reality as Kate finished chalking her own stick, blowing off the excess dust. Both girls moved in to each other, their brains seeming to work as one, scanning over the table.

Tyler set his jaw and swallowed hard. “Ready, ladies?”

“As we’ll ever be.” Kate forced an uneasy smile and Rowan gave an innocent thumbs-up.

Kate broke, sending the ball to the side of the front 8-ball. A few laughs rang out amongst the crowd that gathered. The game went on like that, each team switching. Rowan and Kate got no more than 3 balls in, scratching each time. Each time Tyler and Boone got a ball in, the two girls put on their best disappointed expression. Even though the two tried to go easy on them, it was only a matter of time before Boone sank the 8-ball.

They gave sarcastic bows to the audience that clapped before turning their attention to the two women on the other side of the table. Rowan still had her mask on, hiding enough of her face in the dimly lit room.

Kate pouted, rubbing her thumb back and forth on the corner of the table. “That was fun. How about another round? Winner takes all?”

The crowd around them cheered, each member of the Tornado Wranglers adding money to the betting pool, expecting to collect it in a few minutes. But Javi must’ve clued in the StormPar group, as they also added bills to the jar.

Tyler tried to give them an out, “You sure, ladies? We can call this off.”

Both girls shook their heads eagerly, Rowan continuing the show, hanging onto her pool stick, “Come on, one more round! What do you have to lose?”

The two men agreed, Boone reracking the balls quickly. “At least let us show you how to shoot.”

“No thanks, it’s more fun this way. Winner should break.”

Since Boone made the winning shot, he made the first shot. When he lifted his head again, a huge grin on his face as the triangle of balls exploded across the table, he saw Javi standing there, arms around each girl’s shoulders, a huge smile plastered across each of their faces. He could tell Rowan had one too by the crinkle at the corners of her eyes. “Ben, I think you should get your camera ready. This is what we in America call ‘a hustle’.”

Shot after shot, turn after turn, Kate and Rowan sank a ball. No matter how many times Boone and Tyler tried, they were unable to catch up. Not a single turn went without them sinking a ball. When nothing remained on their side but the 8-ball, Dexter spoke up, breaking the tense air of the entire bar. “Call the pocket.”

The StormPar group let out protests, claiming that it wasn’t in the rules for the last game, but Rowan just shrugged. “Okay. That one.”

She pointed towards the middle pocket. Dexter narrowed his eyes as he scanned the table. “No matter what angle you hit from, there’s no way you’d make it in there.”

Kate rested her weight on one palm that was angled against the table. “Not normally, but this table’s tilted.”

Boone searched for anything that would’ve told the two that information. There were no rocking legs or rolling balls. Then his eyes landed on the glass she refused to hand him earlier, sitting on the edge, the liquid in it just barely slanted. “We’ve been outsmarted, T.”

“You know, I think you're right, Boone.”

Rowan sank the ball in the pocket she called. StormPar cheered, as well as the few other random bar goers that gathered to watch. Rowan and Kate mock bowed for Ben’s camera before retrieving the money left over after Javi and the StormPar members took back theirs as well as an extra hundred to pay for the drinks they were about to ring in. Kate took the stack, counting the money in front of the Wranglers before stacking it all together and handing it out to them.

Tyler looked at it quizzically. Kate shook the stack of money again, silently telling him to grab it. “We don’t need it. Keep it.”

“Y’all won it.”

Rowan laughed, as she turned back to the group after returning the balls and pool sticks to their rightful places. “We hustled you. Take your money back. Drinks are on me. Javi took my hundred up to the bar. Get what y’all want.”

Reluctantly, Tyler took the money and distributed it all back amongst his group as the girls returned to their room for the night.

[nyoomerr]

Do you have any tips for finishing works and getting enough confidence to post them?

sure! just keep in mind that these are tips from my single perspective, and everyone's creative processes are different, etc etc all the usual disclaimers 🙈

↓↓ all advice under the readmore cuz it got pretty lengthy ↓↓

for finishing works, you'll probably have to start by identifying why you don't feel like continuing a particular WIP.

is it a time/energy thing? make sure you're staying physically healthy (good food, keeping hydrated, moderate exercise) and that you aren't forcing yourself to sit down and write at the end of a long day when you've already spent all your mental energy elsewhere. this is one of the lamest points of advice on the whole list but i am being so serious about it.

is it a lack of inspiration? try talking about the fic with a friend, using prompt generators, or thinking back to what originally inspired the fic to begin with. if you started writing the fic for One Specific Scene, go write that scene, regardless of how far out you are from it chronologically! you can always revise or rewrite it later if it turns out that the in-between scenes change some of the context or flow.

is it that you're struggling to get a scene written just right? skip past it and come back later, maybe leaving just a quick one or two line summary of what you want to happen in that scene so you don't forget later. if you can't skip past it, then tell yourself "okay, i'm going to rewrite this later," before trying to write it - if you have already decided that this will not be your final draft, then it can help you feel less hesitant to put imperfect words down.

for gathering the confidence to post a work, it's a bit more tricky...

i think most people want to post things because they want to receive external validation on it... so so valid and relatable 🤝 BUT this motivation makes it hard to actually shut out the factors that can cause nerves (i.e., advice like "turn off comments if you're worried about receiving criticism" is useless, because then you also don't get the positive comments you likely wanted in the first place).

one strategy you could try is starting with a small audience first - just send it to a friend you know will be your hypeman. if you're feeling more bold, you can try sharing it with a discord server or group chat - essentially, narrowing the audience down to people that you know will be supportive of your work, no matter what.

if sharing the fic with your friends actually sounds like the Worst Case Scenario, then i'd instead recommend posting it to an anon collection! if you end up not being happy with the response to the fic, you can pretend it was never yours to begin with - there's no shame in using the anon tool as it was meant to be used. if you end up feeling really proud of the work after the nerves have passed, you can always de-anon it later to tie it back to you!

regardless of how or who you share it with though, my top recommendation is that you sit down and identify every little thing that you're proud of in your work before you post it. write these things out so you don't forget! the people who are going to read your work will not have the same tastes, experiences, and desires that you personally had when you sat down to write the fic to begin with. if they don't like parts of it, it does NOT mean those parts are bad - it just wasn't for them personally!

that can be hard to remember when you're getting feedback, though, which is why it's important to have those things that YOU like about your work written down so you can go take a look at them to remind yourself.

if you try posting a work and afterwards go "oh, that isn't for me, i'd rather just create for myself personally," then that's totally chill! what would be tragic is if you posted a work and then felt so shitty after the fact that it tainted your enjoyment of the creation process itself. that's why, no matter what, please remember that you wrote this fic for yourself, and hold on to the things that you like about it!!

anyway that got pretty rambly but TLDR: 1) figure out why you're having trouble finishing your WIP and tackle that reason instead of blindly pushing yourself forward 2) ease yourself into posting in whatever way is least intimidating for you, no need to jump straight to having an AO3 profile linked to your writing 3) no matter what, make sure you remember the things that you personally enjoy about what you made, and celebrate those things!

[echo-rambles]

untitled tags: fluff. established relationship. makeup. wip. notes: this is the smallest unfinished wip I have in my docs and I doubt I'll ever actually finish it. but I still wanted to share because I thought the little that I did write was cute.

-o0o-

“Hey.” Chan greets, dropping into a crouch behind you.

“Hi baby.” You reply, tipping your head back a bit to try and look at him, completely forgetting that you’re sitting in front of a large mirror. 

He leans forward to press a kiss to the side of your head, quietly laughing at your antics. “What’re you up to?” Chan asks, shuffling closer until the back of your shoulders hit his chest.

Finally you look forward, watching your reflections in the mirror. “Just playing around with my makeup. I was bored.” He hums in acknowledgement, and then he’s pressing a kiss to your shoulder, right where the edge of your shirt collar meets skin. Suddenly, you get an idea. “Did you want me to do you?”

Chan raises an eyebrow, and you silently swat uselessly at his face.

“Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter. I meant makeup.”

“No, yeah. Of course that’s what you meant, that’s exactly what I thought.” 

With an incredibly put upon huff, you tug at him, until he’s moving forward and sitting next to you. 

Before any progress can be made, you absolutely have to kiss the smirk from his face. It's so incredibly important. He can't keep smiling at you like that, or else you won't be responsible for what happens next.

You push him away as the kiss begins to deepen, refusing to lose sight of your priorities. He agreed to something and you're going to hold him to it. Kissing can come later. Right now, you grab up an eyeshadow palette and get to work.

Thankfully, getting his face poked and prodded at is an almost daily occurrence for him, so he closes his eyes, tilts his head and stays as completely still as he can. Like it’s muscle memory. It’s kind of endearing. 

“Do you want something to match me, or can I just go buckwild?” You ask, rifling around in your makeup bag. 

Chan hums, cracking open one eye to look at you. He tilts his head one way, and then the other, still squinting at you. "I think matching makeup would be fun."

Grinning, you point at him with an eyeliner pen. "That's what I like to hear."

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday (+ bonus poll)

thanks for the tags @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks (please go check their works if you haven't... sooooo good!)

alright folks, the Lutalia smut fic is done! It just needs to finish up with my beta and it'll be ready. So, one last very nsfw snippet (and a please help me name this thing poll!) under the cut before it posts. Prev snippets here and here

Lucy stops what she’s doing altogether to tsk loudly in admonishment, though there’s no heat behind it. “So impatient.”   “Mmph. Yeah. Yes. Want you.” “You already have me, darlin’,” Lucy teases. Her hands curl around the backs of Natalia’s thighs as a reminder of who’s in charge. She uses the leverage to shift the angle, delving her tongue between Nat’s inner lips, fucking into her. It does nothing to ease the pleasant ache in her jaw and adds to the  sloppy mess of spit and wetness on her chin.  The feeling is simultaneously divine and unholy, but ultimately temporary. The mild possessiveness flares back to life, suddenly making Lucy wish there was a way to permanently mark Natalia. Something that would warn others not to dare approach what’s hers. Not that Lucy is interested in having Natalia as hers, per se. She just doesn’t enjoy the thought of anyone else ever having her.

no pressure tagging @disasterbuckdiaz @heartshapedvows @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @monsterrae1 @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @stereopticons @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @loserdiaz @your-catfish-friend @statueinthestone @buddierights @911onabc @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @rmd-writes @apothecarose @welcometololaland loml @lizzie-bennetdarcy @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @exhuastedpigeon @underwater-ninja-13 @messyhairdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @callmenewbie and anyone else who wants to share (also i redid the tags because they were wonky so if you got tagged twice i’m sorry!)

fic taglist @lemonzestywrites @maygrantgf @buckbuckgoose

[talkingaboutmybullshit]

old Zelda wip that I don’t plan on finishing but I don’t want to just sit in my notes app.

“I don’t know where to go. The castle is destroyed,”

“I have a home in Hanteo,”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You’re always welcome,” he said. “You could never impose.”

————-

“Hey, Link,” the village guard waved at him. “Who’s that with you?”

“Hi,” she peeked over Link’s shoulder and gave a small wave. “I’m Zelda.”

“So, Link, you got yourself a new girlfriend?” The guard gave him a cheeky smile.

Link shook his head and gave the guard a wave before continuing into the village.

—————

Zelda and Link just shared a passionate kiss and now are arguing about a future relationship.

“I can’t. It’s not proper as your knight.” Link looked down

“Then you’re fired,” she said.

“What?”

“You are no longer my knight, so there’s no problem.”

“Princess—”

“Are you disobeying Hylia’s word?” Zelda raised her brow. “Am I not the only one in this land with Her blood in me? The reincarnation of Hylia Herself?”

“Stripping me of rank makes the situation worse,” Link countered. “I would be no more than a simple peasant.”

“Goddess, Link, do you not want to be with me? Say the word, and I can stop this silliness, and we can forget it.”

“I didn’t—” Link stumbled over his words. “It’s just—”

“I’ve loved you for a hundred years, and I am determined to love you for a hundred more,” Zelda said.

“We can’t,” he argued. “You can’t be with me. It’s against all protocols. You have to be with someone of rank, and—”

“Who’s going to stop us?” she exclaimed. “By your logic, I am the highest authority in Hyrule. There are no more Hylian noble families in the land. Some mayors and elected officials here and there, but no more old proper royalty. You are the only knight. You are the only other Hylian of title, given by the royal family of this land.”

She sighed deeply. “No one else wants to touch this kingdom because they think the Zelda line is cursed. And honestly? They’re right.”

What she said was true. All the Hylian noble families had been wiped out 100 years ago. If they weren’t, their titles had vanished in post-Calamity days. Link technically held the title of knight and had a long list of accomplishments. He was chosen by the Goddess Herself. Still, none of that could cover up that he was born a mere peasant.

“I’ll go to a different continent and start a new life. You can come with me if you want. We could set up a small store. Between my knowledge and your people skills, we could do it. Plus, I’m sure there are plenty of descendants of royal bastards if Hylia deems it too dangerous—”

Link cut her off with a laugh. “You would never.”

“I could.” She stood up and banged her palms on their kitchen table. “Watch me.”

“I believe you could, but you never would. You love it here too much, even if you gave up being a royal. You want to help the common folk here. You’re already establishing a school.”

Zelda sighed and sat back down. “You know me too well.” she traced the grain of the wood the table was made out of.

A few moments later she asked “What would you have done if we were not trapped for 100 years? At best, I would have been married off to a man twice my age. Would you have stood there and watched as he kissed me, held me, and I bore his children?”

“Yes,” Link said, rubbing his face. “I would have stood there and watched.”

“How?” Zelda said. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with it if I saw that happen to you.”

“It would have killed me, Zelda. Don’t you get it?” He pleaded for her to understand. “I would die for you if it’s for the best. If that meant watching you get married to someone who guaranteed Hyrule’s safety, then I would be more than happy to die every day watching you with him.”

Zelda sadly smiled. “Your plan was so much nobler than mine. I do not get how I am the princess.”

“What was your plan?” Link asked cautiously. “I bet you had a hell of one.”

“To be frank, I would have asked you to sire my children.”

Link looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Hopefully a romantic affair under the moonlight,” she sighed. “That’s what I used to think about late at night. Cheesy and stereotypical for a princess, I know.”

Link was still processing everything as she continued.

“I cannot only offer you this lifetime but infinite ones. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for centuries? Over and over, finding each other? Because we can’t do this on our own. Not every version of us were romantically involved but we are tied by something deeper,”

“You deserve a simple life, Zelda. Not one tied to this insane destiny.” Link said softly, taking her hand. “But denying you love because of the situation of our births feels like the most complicated thing of all.”

“Then don’t deny it.” She leaned closer. “We’ve suffered too much. Let’s live for ourselves now.”

Link shyly grinned “ok,”

[chronicallyonlinewriter]

11 and 18 please!

11.) a WIP you’d like to finish someday? Lmao, all of them. But if I can successfully pull off Silver Springs, I'll be ecstatic. 18.) if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic. I already answered this, but I'll give you another snip - I have 80+ pages worth of deleted scenes and little snippets I never used for GYOW or ALaYF. It's a big part of why I started Everywhere; a lot of what I kept will wind up finding its way into that series, instead. This one is long, so I'll put it under a cut. (Not edited.)

He’d made a lot of assumptions about what he thought his life would be like, at this age. And so far, he’d been proven wrong about almost all of them. 

For a little while he just watched her sleep. Slowly, the world outside of the window changed. The sky lightened, pale gray giving way to a muted pink that shimmered against the bedroom walls, then exploding in a fiery red as the birdsong swelled to its morning crescendo. And still she slept on, eyes twitching beneath their lids, mouth parted slightly. 

He had trouble keeping his hands to himself; found excuses to touch her, sweeping an errant strand of hair away from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear, smoothing the edge of the sheet as it lay rumpled at her shoulder. He knew he had to leave her alone in their bed eventually, but he put it off until he couldn’t anymore; waited until he heard his brother’s bedroom door open, and the telltale sign of the floor groaning beneath his weight as he made his way to the stairs.

Only then did Joel slip out of bed, quietly, slowly, so as not to wake her. He closed the bathroom door with as gentle a <i>click</i> as he could, took the quickest shower he could manage, brushed his teeth with the same ruthless efficiency, and crept around their bedroom aglow in the morning sun with as much stealth as he could muster – but it didn’t matter; she caught him before he could slip his boots on, making a small, breathless sound as he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged them toward him by their laces. He turned to see a groggy pair of hazel eyes blinking back at him, and then reached to place a hand on her bare shoulder when she yawned, and tried to sit up.

“Keep sleepin’,” he told her, his voice soft. “S’early.”

“You don’t have patrol today,” was her mumbled response, though she dropped her head back onto his pillow. 

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but I told Tommy I’d help out at the schoolhouse today. Tryin’ to get that new addition done ‘fore classes start up again.”

“Oh.” Her skin was alight in hues of red and pink, her hair glittering like liquid cold in unruly curls. Again he reached out, brushing it away from her cheek. She closed her eyes when he did, leaning into his touch, her smooth skin so warm against his calloused palm. “Sorry – wouldn’t have kept you up if I knew –”

And to this he couldn’t help himself; he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips firmly against hers, hand lingering on her cheek. “Darlin’,” he told her, nuzzling his nose against hers, “Don’t know what I did to deserve any of it – but you can keep me up with that anytime you like.” 

Just for a moment, he let himself forget the yet-to-be-met demands of the day; he lay next to her fully-clothed, noses touching, just watching her shake off the remnants of sleep – because he couldn’t quite shake away his own nerves, his own memories of how their evening had started. There was a nervous ache that lived under his skin, a question just on the tip of his tongue that he diluted, a quiet “You alright?” meeting her ears instead.

“I’m fine.” And as though to prove it, she grasped his hand, pulling it up to her lips, her kiss a soft caress to his knuckles. “Really,” she insisted, and he realized that he was probably doing a terrible job at hiding his concern, “I’m okay. I just…” And there it was – she faltered, just for a bit, her smile fading. He knew when he came home that afternoon there would be a candle lit on their fireplace mantle, one of her sister’s photos placed next to it; knew that she was going to spend all day mourning that far more of her sister’s birthdays had passed since she died than she’d ever had while alive. “It wasn’t – a distraction,” she said finally. “It wasn’t. I just…I wanted you. That’s all.”

He felt as though he would never understand it, this pull she had toward him; why this vibrant, beautiful woman had settled for him but didn’t see it as settling at all. Didn’t understand how she could ever think that she was the lucky one, this lovely creature lit up in hues of red and gold and smiling at him with eyelashes glittering. She shifted under the sheet, rolled her shoulder as though to rid it of a kink, and he watched as the fabric slid away from her freckled skin; her shoulder, free from covering, exposed to the light. He drifted his fingers over the expanse of her scar, the puckered and pearly ring of teeth marks that were so close to her tiny and faded flower tattoo that just the very tip of its stem was sliced clean through – and as he kissed this, too, as she sighed in contentment.

“Okay,” he told her, because he would do this for her; take her word for it, because she deserved at least that much. “Try to sleep – for me. Alright?”

“Okay.” But he waited for her eyes to close again before he reluctantly slid away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and slowly pulling on his boots, then leaving her alone asleep in the sunshine with his laces still untied. 

His head swam, his joints ached, but the smell of coffee greeted him as he tiredly took the stairs. He was grateful for the sight of his brother standing in the kitchen, twisting the cap closed atop a second metal thermos, and when Joel was close enough he grabbed it and tossed it to him – with far more force than was necessary, though Joel still managed to catch it.

“The hell you got a bug up your ass about?” he demanded, setting the thermos on the kitchen table with a loud thunk. Tommy just rolled his eyes with a huff.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” he said, words laden with acid. “Lotta that goin’ around, I guess.” And for a moment Joel just stood there, exhausted and confused, his patience stretching and wearing thin like a brittle rubber band – and it clicked into place, his brother cocking an eyebrow at him. “I swear – s’like bein’ in Boston all over again, livin’ with two horny teen –” "Okay,” Joel cut him off, his face flushing hot. “Christ, Tommy.”

[backmarkerr]

Fic Writer Interview 📝

tagged by @brawngp2009 ! Thank you, it was fun!

Heads up, I'll be keeping this to my F1 writing only! --

How many works do you have on AO3? 7 😎 What's your total word count? The ao3 stats page tells me it’s 30 302. My writing programme tells me there's 20k more in wips but that includes notes and stuff that aren’t really fic writing What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Isn't the stats page so great? Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do! I don’t always see them right away, but I like to say thank you to each person who takes the time to let me know they read and enjoyed something I wrote :) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? I’m not sure... I don't really have any fic that ends angstily, but I guess the closest would be either Winter Pitstop or Head in the clouds? They’re more ambiguous than angsty, though… What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I’d say Eyes on the prize has the happiest ending out of the current finished ones. Do you write crossovers? I don't write actual crossovers, but I love crossover AUs! I tend to draw them more than write them, though. Have you ever received hate on a fic? No. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Hell yeah!!! I only started writing smut "properly" in the past couple of years, it can be very challenging but that makes it extra rewarding when it's done. As for what kind, just m/m so far. I’d like to diversify it one day, but who knows... Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not a full fic, but lets just say there's a reason I no longer share WIP snippets. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but honestly all my fics are so rooted in what Ghost and I come up with together that she might as well be a co-writer. What's your all-time favourite ship? Simi. I was definitely not planning on being so incredibly compelled by a ship of two older retired blond drivers, but here we are. The lore is incredible and I learn something new every day, the parallels are out of this world, the reason a megapost is so hard to write is because there is truly SO much. But also their love is so refreshing! Most of my fandom life was spent stuck in ships that were doomed from the start/impossible so Simi is really freeing for me. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I sure hope I’ll finish all of them! What are your writing strengths? Not to toot my own horn, but I think I’m pretty good at “show, don’t tell” in a way that the reader can put the dots together without me spelling it out for them. For example, I think I make it pretty obvious that Seb and Kimi love each other, even if they don't say it and the word "love" itself barely shows up in my writing. What are your writing weaknesses? Grammar and punctuation, especially in regards to dialogue. English isn’t my first language and I learned writing in a different style, so it can be pretty difficult. Also prepositions like on/in/at are a nightmare. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Like everything else, it depends on how it’s done. I’ve seen fics where it’s used really well in the context and heightens the experience, and others where it’s just unnecessary. Personally, I’d have to be really sure that the language is correct before I used it, and really sure that it fits the situation in the fic. What was the first fandom you wrote for? As far as you’re concerned, F1 is my first fandom ;) What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? Honestly I’m just here for Simi. No other F1 pairing inspires me to write. What's your favourite fic you've written? You never forget your first, right? Winter Pitstop is still my personal favourite. Maybe it will lose that spot once I finally write and post the sequels I planned last year.

-- I'm not sure who has been tagged already, so i tag @racingghost and whoever else sees this!

[adutchlover]

I'm always interested in the creative process of other writers. So if you don't mind: how do you usually come up with ideas for fics? How does it solidify for you? How do you decide if an idea is good enough to work on? Also, Is there anything you can share about the aformetioned 2 AM wip?

First of all, my God, you sending me an ask made me all aaaaaaaaaa🤯🥺🥰😱😭🥹🤏🏼!!!!

(If anything is confusing or makes you curious, send me a message or ask me! I love to chat, interact and answer questions.)

About how ideas come to my mind:

my process of coming up with ideas for fics is very much based on my mind never shutting up and I'm very driven by music and intrusive thoughts. It's always a little straw that if I light the match, it catches fire. Sometimes the music has nothing to do with the plot I imagine, but just because I'm disconnected from the rest, I just have the idea. Sometimes they're completely loose dialogues (no setting, no context, no before and after), just the conversation and that's all I need, because sometimes the best of my plots come from letting my mind take control, writing everything that comes and then organizing what I was really looking for with it.

How I solidify and deal with:

first, as I said, I let whatever has to come to happen; a dialogue, a thought, a feeling, a random scene. Since I think a lot all the time, I needed to find a quick way to get my ideas out so I wouldn't get frustrated and simply forget what I initially thought, so I have a group with me on WhatsApp to make things easier, where I send texts or just audios (because sometimes I'm getting ready for work and an idea comes to me, so while I'm getting ready I talk to myself about the plot); then, when I have time, I go back to listen to the audios and texts and really develop the plot if I think it's worth it. I usually use what I learned in college to help me (I have a degree in journalism): what (the action), who (the agent), when (the time), where (the place), how (the way) and why (the reason) the central event of the story happened. This helps me have the right questions and motivations for the characters and for the story itself, considering that sometimes all I have for a plot comes from random dialogues, but that I see potential in.

How I decide if it's worth it:

I basically write it down. Since I am very much guided by what I am feeling, if the plot is going through my mind, it will only stop when I write about it. So I have no choice: I write, develop that part I thought of and then I get it out of my head, breathe, drink some water and then come back and think: does it have a future? And if I, now less affected by the rush, feel that it is worth it, then I continue writing after plotting more.

There are plots that I simply get VERY attached to them and I can't do anything unless I finish writing and post urgently (Invitation, I Feel the Rain, What if this is) and others that I get excited about but after I post I feel calm (Swipe your Nose); and there are those that I want to continue but I choose to take a break because I want to analyze the future of the idea calmly (Camboys au, how to by wikihow).

Btw, I talked to Random and one day I would like to be able to share the writing process of The Invitation with you, but that can wait because we have a few more oneshots and wips planned together that are more of a priority for us now.

About the new wip I mentioned I was plotting at 2 am the other day:

I have the plot 90% ready and it will be a lestappen fic set in the mid-1890s, with a Van Helsing-meets-The Vampire Diaries vibe; obviously you must have already understood that yes, it is a vampire fic. Probably a short fic with long chapters? Anyway.I intend to bring chapter one soon and I would particularly like to know if people are interested in this fic because I am very involved with this plot skksksksks

[castielific]

20 questions for fic writers

How many works do you have on A03? 25

What's your total word count? 454 434 words

What fandoms do you write for? Supernatural. My first english fics were about Teen Wolf. Before that, I wrote in french about House MD and Stargate Sg1.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

Baby One More Time (sterek): 4 142 kudos

Carry You Home (sterek): 2 157 kudos

Fancy and the Tramp (destiel): 1 147 kudos

But she's the Devil in Disguise (sterek): 1 030 kudos

Grace my Soul (destiel): 891 kudos

Do you respond to comments?

Not all of them. Mostly because sometimes I'm not sure how to respond and feel ridiculous saying the same thing again and again. I appreciate them all though. They all make me so happy and I'm grateful to those who takes the time to leave one. They always make my day.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Like Clipped Petunias (destiel). This is my darkest fic. I've had people telling me they had PTSD from it. The end is really angsty and horrifying. It was not supposed to end this way, but this is where the story took me. In the end, I think it fits.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Grace my Soul (destiel) comes to mind. Baby Jimmy is such a delight and the last chapter of that fic is my favorite one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I don't remember ever getting any. I did have a few problems with people stealing my stories or posting them elsewhere. In the past, I also had a few stalkers/stans sending messages that creeped me out (especially for my french fics).

Do you write smut?

Yes! I didn't used to for Teen Wolf, but I've realized that fic with a higher rating tends to get more views (which I get because I rarely read pg13 or under myself), so I started writing it. I both love and hate writing those parts. It always feels kind of awkward to share those imageries, I'm never sure what words to use or how far I should go.

Craziest crossover?

I have a WIP that was a Psych/Teen Wolf crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. More than once. I've had a few cases of people putting their own name on my stories, but mostly people repost it without my consent on other websites such as wattpad. Ao3 is the only place I post, so if you see one of my story elsewhere, it's been stolen. Please warn me if you do.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's such an amazing thing to think about! I have had translations in spanish, russian and chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once or twice. To be honest, I think I'm too OCD for it to work, I want it exactly as I want it lol. Help from betareaders is precious though, sometimes they write a couple paragraphs for me, or help me reformulate some things better, or just brainstorm the stoyline with me and give me brillant ideas. Fics are always better with some help.

All-time favorite ship? Destiel forever bb

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Frozen Inside (sterek) is the only WIP I've ever posted. I feel terribly guilty about it because it's been more than half a decade now and people are still asking me for a sequel. Sometimes I read it over and try, but it's just...done. Thankfully, the last chapter could be taken as a end. Kind of. God, I feel awful and I'm so sorry.

I also have tons of unpublished wip that are nearly over. I wish I'll be able to end them, because there are some stories I really really like.

What are your writing strengths?

Hyperfocus. My best stories come out that way. I'll write fifty thousand words in two days or not at all. Sadly, I can't control it. Inspiration also tend to come at the exact moment I can't possibly write, which is sooo frustrating.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description and world building. I tend to focus too much on the action and dialogues, but forget to tell about where they are and when. I let readers fill the blank way too often, which is something I really need to work on. I've been trying to rewrite some of my fics into original stories and that made it very obvious to me.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. Sometimes the translation is in the end note and it can put me out of the story, especially if it's an important part of the dialogue. If it's just a few words or if it's done in a way you understand it anyway, it can be beautiful!

First fandom you ever wrote in? Stargate SG1.

Favorite fic you've written?

The Guy Next Door (destiel), I think. I laughed, I cried, I squealed, I facepalmed. I must have looked like a maniac writing that story. Castiel was very fun to write for that one. Dean...I wanted to slap Dean so many times while I wrote. I had no control over him, I swear, he kept on being an idiot and made me scream at my screen.

I was surprised earlier, that this fic is not in the top five stories because it's one of my personal favorite.

This exercise was very fun to do. I won't tag anyone, if you feel like doing it, just do it, I'm curious to read about all of you!