#thank you for enabling this word vomit

[iamveronica]

Thank you so much for uploading the interview of Moz talking about "Getting away with it"! It does kind of answer this question I've been pondering over which is Moz's opinion on Electronic. Him "worrying" about it kills me and it does fit with how I suspect Moz thought about Johnny after the breakup. No matter how much he tries to hide it, Moz is clearly obsessed with Johnny and that tends reverberate in both negative and positive ways, while generally this obsession clearly makes him act crazy or delusional 😭. I think at this time his attitude towards Johnny was more protective ("see Angel, Angel Down we go together") and the impression I get from his Autobiography and the interviews I have seen is that Moz would never attack Johnny's artistic credentials. In this interview,I feel, he reconciliates his feelings towards Johnny and his dislike of the music by showing worry and going after Neil Tennant instead. I hope I am making sense LMAO

I LOVE ALL YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS. i've somewhat overanalyzed this subject (of Morrissey's overprotectiveness) in my attempt to rationalize the Open Letter to Johnny Marr (anniversary soon!). i do believe Moz has always loved, respected and remained loyal to Johnny. he would never diss his artistry, and i don't believe he ever has. but come on, you're still thinking about the man if his words reach you and wound you 35 whole years down the line. he obviously wanted the same courtesy extended from Johnny to him that he has to Johnny.

honestly, this Johnny interview really stuck out to me. he's embarking on a solo career and most of the questions to him are about his past and the Smiths and their potential reunion. and you think "wouldn't Johnny rather like to talk about his solo aspirations?" so Morrissey in his open letter had a point. it was well-intentioned. Would you please, instead, discuss your own career, your own unstoppable solo achievements and your own music?

the one thing that gave me pause in his response about Getting Away With It ("very apt title" LMFAOOO 💀) was Moz talking about artists who "fall into favor with people who expect nothing of them" and, obviously, he feels he's the antithesis of that (everyone expects so much of him and holds him up to impossible standards), but who really fell into favour in the Electronic lineup (was it Neil Tennant, Bernard Sumner or could it be Johnny who's always "had it easy" on account of being so affable? [*coughpeoplepleasercough*]). i feel like Moz's bitterness could be directed at any of them, although i do get the impression that Moz at least then held to the notion that Johnny's talents and easy-going nature got taken advantage of by his collaborators. (he probably did mean Neil.)

#MozMarrMakeUpIn2023

[skarloeyspa]

Okay okay, now that you've listened to Long Live the Iron Horse I am dying to know what you think of Skarloey being the little brother instead of Rheneas

like this.

ok ok /srs now. I've actually never viewed one of them as being older than the other? The way I interpreted their relationship was that while they have very different ways of showing care for each other (and the other members of their family!), the way they feel for each other is pretty similar. in fact if you forced me to assign one of them as the older brother I don't think I could

(Long Live the Iron Horse spoilers under the cut!)

but i like it!! it definitely makes Rheneas' protectiveness hit home even harder (in case it didn't already...) and also just hurts extra when you take into consideration how he was essentially neglecting Skarloey just so he could secure a place for the two of them on the railway.

i think even in Long Live the Iron Horse Rheneas and Skarloey still aren't that different in age, maybe a couple months at most, which is like. Minutes in human time. Rheneas is probably just more "mature" because of his personality, he had absolutely no obligation to take such a heavy weight onto his metaphorical shoulders but he did anyway, which just makes this hurt so much better.

it's the way that despite their age difference being so small, Rheneas still thinks that he has to be the one to protect Skarloey (well, he kind of had to either way...). I don't know how long Rheneas would have lasted if he didn't have Skarloey as his reason for waking up and getting to work every morning.

It's the way Rheneas just refuses to tell Skarloey anything bad at the time, for fear of ruining Skarloey's "innocence". He didn't need to carry everything himself, he had every opportunity to visit Skarloey and just let things off his metaphorical chest. Skarloey was naive but he wasn't stupid, he'd know to be sympathetic if he heard of the things his brother sat through for him. But still Rheneas kept things to himself because he couldn't possibly burden his little brother with something so traumatizing.

It's the way he keeps quiet about this for 157 years, still holding onto the belief that his little brother was innocent after all this time. How even after everything, he couldn't muster up the courage to tell his brother the truth to his face, but rather through a proxy of the priest.

Judging by the ending I think Rheneas had long since acknowledged that Skarloey was more than mature enough to handle the truth. Heck, has known the truth for some time. I think he just didn't want to acknowledge it, because it symbolized his failure as an older brother, that despite making every decision to protect Skarloey he still failed.

tldr: i love it!! i'm a sucker for protective older brothers who take all the burden upon themselves because they don't want to ruin their younger siblings' innocence! only for them to turn around and realize that their younger sibling is all grown up and don't need to be protected anymore!

[kuroo-hitsuji]

Well, if you Insist--

-a real Murder Mystery party sounds fun though I would definitely be concerned about Satan getting in trouble if anyone figured out it was him that did it agsjsgdhd like if he'd done something like that pre-exchange problem it'd be fine since he could just not come to the human realm for like a century and no one would be able to point him out as a wanted murderer but with MC involved he can't really get away with doing that since they Also have the short lifespan that would kill off the other witnesses in that case 💀

-I'd be super into Belphie's as long as I get to pick who we're haunting. As long as they deserve moderate to severe psychic damage I'm absolutely down to see how Belphie goes about inflicting it asfhdjddh

- I'm nothing if not filled to the brim with morbid curiousity so Lucifer and Beel's dates would be incredibly interesting. Shakespeare plays but they die for real thus making the death scenese incredibly realistic? Of course I want to see that at least once, i gotta know. Plus the people are technically already dead so it's fine right 😅. Saying i would try human meat given the opportunity feels like its gonna get me put on a list somewhere 💀 but there's no way my curiosity wouldn't win in that situation so ofc Beel's date absolutely falls under the umbrella of Things That Cater To My Interests. I would just hope it is somehow Ethically Sourced Human (idk what that means exactly but i imagine they could've figured something out as a compromise for staying open while Diavolo is trying to make things feel welcoming to human exchange students lmao) and also maybe hope that i wouldn't find it all that tasty bc imagine the potential existential crisis you'd have to work through if you found out human actually tastes good--

-I'd 100% trust Mammon with my life especially in a situation he's that familiar with, like I'd probably feel safer plummeting off a building with him than I do riding roller coasters irl-- He'd definitely get chewed out by everyone and anyone that found out about it tho ahskhzhd Mammon may be the brother Lucifer trusts the most but that does Not give him a free pass to potentially put everyone's favorite human in life threatening danger just for fun (its ok Mamms I wont snitch)

-again with the morbid curiousity with Diavolo's. Probably a lot less morbid in this instance comparatively avsjagzjd but it would definitely be interesting to see how that process works. Plus it kinda makes me think of Hades and Persephone from greek mythology and I'm a sucker for them in most iterations so that sparks joy lmao. Also ofc I'd take him up on the bone crown offer, I'd be planning my entire outfit for the day around that asdhsjhd

Unhinged Dates with the Obey Me Cast.

AN: This was just a silly haha but I had way too much fun with it. It was supposed to be one line each...

Leviathan takes you to go see a whale fall in person. He uses magic so you don't die, obvi, but come on guys!!! Whale fall!!!

Barbatos will take you back in time to witness some of his favorite historical events. You can have a picnic while watching Pompeii from a safe distance.

Satan takes you to a real murder mystery party. Someone sold their soul to him and it's time to collect. Why not make a date of it and kill the poor fool at their own party?

Asmodeus takes you out for the Elizabeth Bathory spa treatment. Virgin blood does wonders for your complexion!

Belphegor will pull a Freddy Kruger and take you with him to haunt some poor shmuck's dreams.

Lucifer is a classy guy. You can sip demonus while watching a Shakespeare reenactment of your choice. When a character dies, so does the actor! Don't worry, love. It's just the souls of the damned. Part of their punishment, y'know?

Beelzebub takes you to a restaurant that used to be all the rage before it was shut down just prior to the exchange program. But the locals kicked up such a fuss it reopened. Just... ignore the fact the menu looks like something the Sawyer family would be offering.

Mammon had a phase where he was really into jumping off of buildings. If you find old Devilgram pics of him divebombing the ground before flying off at the last minute and give your best puppy dog eyes, I'm sure Mammon would be delighted to hold you close as he indulges in an old pass time!

Diavolo will let you join while he sentences souls to damnation. As his future co-monarch, it's your right to learn about the ins and outs of the kingdom. You can even wear a crown made of bones if you want!

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexy stuff, a long overdue conversation with Steve.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previously On...: You went to Tony for answers about how Carthage ended up on the Quinjet; he asks you to attend his annual shareholder gala on Saturday. You, vomiting, + a bunch of stuffy rich people. What could go wrong?

A/N: Quick note about how text messages are written herein: Outgoing messages (in this instance, from Pocket to Bucky) will be indicated by ">>" in front of them. Incoming messages are labeled with the contact name the phone owner has for that person in their phone. In this instance, Pocket has Bucky saved in her phone as "Magic Dick🍆🦾" lol

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Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The gala had barely begun and you were already exhausted. Your stomach bug hadn’t let up, and you’d been vomiting for the last two days. Fortunately, you were able to get an injection of an anti-nausea medication from one of the interns down in the med bay, so even though you didn’t currently have to worry about puking your guts out on some obscenely wealthy financier, you just had to deal with the constant exhaustion you’d been feeling from your illness. 

Just a few more hours, you told yourself as you brushed off the advances of yet another man old enough to be your father. Not once had anyone actually wanted to discuss the Crisis Prediction Algorithm System. It seemed you were being viewed more as potential arm candy than Stark Industries’ CTO. That alone was enough to leave you longing for an early night in your bed. 

You did look amazing, though, you had to admit, even if you’d had to go a little heavy on the makeup to mask your pallor. When you asked Tony for a new dress, you’d anticipated taking the girls on a shopping trip. Tony, however, had other ideas and had sent a designer from one of the city’s top fashion houses to the Tower to collect your measurements, and then, the following day, a garment bag appeared in your room containing a striking dress in shimmering Iron Man-red. The bodice was form fitting and strapless, with an asymmetric neckline, and the skirt was full and came down to just below your ankles. 

It was gorgeous, and when your hair and makeup had been completed, you looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. You’d sent a picture to Bucky and he’d immediately sent you back a series of panting emojis that had you laughing. The following string of text that described exactly what he wanted to do to you in the dress then had you panting, yourself. Fuck your parameters, apparently.

But now, you couldn’t wait to get out of it for an entirely different reason. The call of your pajamas was so alluring. Not only were you physically tired, but you were bored out of your mind. As this was a Stark Industries party, and not an official Avengers gathering, most of your friends had opted not to come. Rhodey was here, now almost fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, but Tony wouldn’t leave his side, so he was constantly being surrounded by people and you couldn’t really find an opening to go talk to him.

When you’d asked Nat and Wanda if they wanted to come with you, Wanda had politely declined, letting you know that she and Vision already had plans to go out of town for the weekend, while Nat just scoffed at you. “I would literally rather swallow broken glass, Pocket,” she’d said. “Those things are boring as fuck and there is not enough money you could possibly pay me to go to one, sorry.” She’d ended up going bar hopping with Clint and Sam, instead.

So, there you were, all by yourself, not even able to distract yourself with the elaborate spread of food that Tony had provided, as the thought of eating still turned your stomach, when you felt a hand at your elbow.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. His presence took you by surprise– you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d truly spoken to one another, aside from clipped conversations about work and missions. “That’s a lovely dress.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Steve, hi. Um, I’m good, thank you. Just really tired. Not quite in the right headspace to schmooze, you know?” you asked him, trying to fight off the awkwardness you were feeling at speaking to him again after so long. “You look very dashing tonight.” And he did, with his dark navy suit and cream button-up. 

He smiled, then held out a hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. You didn’t want to lead him on, let him think you had any interest beyond the platonic relationship you’d always shared, but you were so fucking bored. One dance couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love to,” you said, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, given his hulking frame, and he led you through the steps with ease. You somehow managed to only step on his toes twice, which gave you both a good laugh.

“I must have forgotten all my finishing school lessons,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re doing great.” Steve sent you out for a spin, but as he twirled you back into his arms, you were overcome with a wave of dizziness and stumbled. You felt your knees give out and your body begin to collapse in its exhaustion.

“Whoa,” said Steve, using his super soldier reflexes to grab you before you could fall and hold you steady. “I got you. You wanna sit down? Rest a bit?”

You nodded and he led you over to a quiet corner where some couches had been arranged for that very purpose. He guided you down to sit, then placed himself next to you, concern clouding his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just, you know, between the nausea and the vomiting, I haven’t really been able to keep a lot of food down over the last two days. It’s got me so tired. I think I overdid it with a dance number.”

Steve chuckled, then stood up. “Let me go get you something to drink,” he said. “It’s important that you stay hydrated.” You nodded, and he was off.

With a sigh, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky, but knowing that, due to the time difference, he was probably sleeping.

>> I miss you.

You were quite surprised, then, when you saw the three dots appear almost immediately.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Not that I don’t miss you too, because I desperately do.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: But aren’t you supposed to be livin' it up like Cinderella at the ball?

You chuckled at that before responding.

>> This Cinderella is tired and bored and would much rather be snuggled up in bed with her metal-armed Prince Charming watching a movie or literally any other activity aside from being at this ball unaccompanied. 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: You better be talking ‘bout me, doll. 

>> How many other metal-armed men do I have in my life, dipshit? 

>> Why are you even awake, anyway?

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’m just teasin’ you, smart ass ;) 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you doin any variety of bedly activities, too >:) 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: And I’m up because we’re getting ready to act on our intel and raid the communications office we were sent to find. 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Hit 'em at dawn when they’re least suspectin’ it, ya know?

>> Jesus Christ, baby! Be careful! 

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing you hadn’t gone on the mission– you didn’t even have the energy to imagine yourself having the energy to conduct a raid in your current state.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Always, doll. Gotta get back to my best girl, don’t I?

>> You absolutely do. Cause if I found out you died, I will kill you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I have no doubt that if someone were to find a way to murder me from beyond my grave, it would be you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Shit. Sorry sweets, I gotta go.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Try to have fun. I love you.

>> I love you too, Buckaroo.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, but there was no further reply. Wonderful. Now you would be spending what little energy you absolutely did not have to spare worrying about Bucky’s safety.

Steve returned then, handing you a cold glass dripping with condensation. “It’s lemonade,” he said as you took a sip. “I know how much you like lemons.”

You smiled in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Steve noticed immediately.

“Are you alright? Does it not taste good? I could go get you something else…”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, Steve, the lemonade’s fine. Thank you for getting it for me; that was very thoughtful. It’s just,” you sighed, “I was texting Bucky. He and Carthage are running a raid on a communications office as we speak, and now I’m just nervous and worried about him.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Oh,” he said, though you could tell there was more behind the word than the single syllable would imply. “I didn’t realize the two of you had gotten back together.”

Fuck. You were by far too tired to be having this conversation. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you decided it was time to confront the giant elephant that had been sitting between you and the Captain for far too long. “We haven’t, not officially, anyway, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t still love each other, in spite of everything that’s happened. We’re just working on building trust. Or rather, he’s working on building trust, and I’m working on determining if I can trust him again. It’s a process.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the movement so minute you would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely in the moment. You took a deep breath before you continued.

���Look, Steve,” you began, “I know about your feelings for me.” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you gently held a hand up to stop him from speaking. You needed to get everything you had to say out while you still had the energy to do so. “I’ve known for a bit, and while I’m truly flattered, and honored, that you care for me, I’m also so sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. You’re a good man. A wonderful man, and I know most people would tell me I’m an idiot for not reciprocating, but I just don’t share those feelings.”

“It’s because of Berlin, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you could see the small, shy boy Bucky had told you about from his youth.

“Berlin altered our relationship, it’s true,” you told him, “but the nature of my feelings for you were cemented long before that. You’re my family, and do I love you, but I love you as a member of that family. The way I love Tony, and Nat, and Thor, but maybe a little better than I love Clint.” Steve chuckled softly at that, and you smiled, glad you could make him laugh even a little. “I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you want to hear, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to watch me be with your best friend. None of it was ever done with the intention of deliberately causing you pain, but at the same time, I need to do what’s going to make me happy, and I hope you can accept that, as my friend and a member of my family.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I can accept that. It hurts,” he chuckled humorously, “but I want both you and Bucky to be happy.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, suppressing a yawn. “Holy shit, I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. I put in enough time to fulfill my obligation to Tony.” You stood, but immediately stumbled, the motion of standing enough to make you dizzy.

Steve was instantly on his feet, an arm out to steady you. “I got you,” he said. He put a hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but I’m getting worried about you, Pocket. I should escort you down to med bay.”

You waved the suggestion off. “No, it’s fine. The last thing I want is a bunch of doctors poking and prodding at me all night. I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep.”

“You can barely even stand up on your own,” Steve protested. “Let me at least walk you back to your room. Make sure you get there without falling over.” You were going to tell him you’d be fine on your own when a wave of nausea overtook you.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, clutching tightly to his arm for support. You had planned on going over to Tony and Pepper to say a proper goodbye, but given the way you were currently feeling, an Irish one was going to have to do, instead. 

Steve put a hand to your back and led you out of the banquet hall. You had to stop more than once to steady yourself, and you were grateful for Steve’s assistance. By the time he’d walked you to your door, you were running on fumes.

“Do you need help getting inside?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” you assured him. “I’ll be okay. I am literally just going to collapse into my bed. Might not even bother taking the dress off, to be honest.”

Steve blushed, and you regretted putting the idea of you getting out of your clothes into his head. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, running a hand behind his neck, the movement so similar to Bucky that it threw you for a moment. “If there’s anything you need in the night, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Sure, Steve,” you said as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You were grateful for his help, but you knew that, even if you were suddenly dying, you would not, in fact, be calling him. “Thanks for your help.”

You wished each other a goodnight, and soon you were once again within the sanctuary of your room. Managing to summon the will from somewhere, you shimmied out of the dress, draping it over your vanity chair; it was, after all, probably far too expensive to either sleep in or leave in a puddle on the floor overnight. You debated whether or not to take the time to remove your face full of makeup but, God, your bed was just so inviting, you’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[middlingmay]

German!Gale AU Part 2

Part 2 of my headcanons for my German!Gale AU. We deal with language barriers, the resistance, and an opportunity for Gale.

So, now Gale has a fugitive American airman on his hands, and he's not quite sure what to do with it. But he knows, he can feel that this is finally his time to do something rather than enabling others. This is his chance to help someone. That need that always burned in his core to help others, that his dad regularly scolded and beat out of him whenever Gale couldn't quite keep it down in his presence? Well, it was back with a vengeance, and Gale didn't think he was ever going to be able to put it out.

And it's completely inappropriate. There are more important matters at hand, literally life or death, but when he unearths John from the hay cart and ushers him inside, Gale can't help but be bewildered by the sheer amount of hay that can get stuck inside dark curls.

"You look ridiculous," he says with the patchy English he knows. "Like der Löwenzahn."

And John might not know a lick of German beyond the basics the brass drilled into him, but he knows when he's being judged. And if he weren't in so much pain he might be of a mind to get pissy about it, but he can feel a whole hell of a lot now the adrenaline's wearing off.

He tries to scrub a hand through his hair but winces and curses and bites on his lip hard.

"Stay, no," Gale shakes his head and gestures with his hand and John gets the point. "Mein Vater..."

The idea of his father getting his hands on John, and the prize he would be for the Nazi's makes Gale want to vomit.

John gets it and tries to stand. "Got it. Thanks. Just point me to safety and I'll be on my way."

And Gale rolls his eyes because he'd heard American's were dramatic, but trying to embark on a solo expedition across enemy territory is a bit much.

So he pushed John back into his chair.

"Ich habe..." he gesticulates, searching for the words, "time. To fix." He points at John's face.

And so he does, all whilst trying to think of a plan - or a better one that the mad idea that occurred to him almost as soon as John showed up.

He gently cleans the blood of John's face, John who doesn't look away form him once even when Gale hits a particularly sore spot around his eye. And when he's done Gale notices that he's uncovered a wild amount of freckles and doesn't notice he's smiling.

When John asks why, Gale struggles to find the words. "You look, like himmel," Gale points up, meaning the sky. "At night. All spotty."

And John laughs barking, tearing his face from Gale's grip and grins at him. "Yeah, fuck you too."

And he gives John some warm water and a cloth and some privacy. He also fetches him some clothes, a white undershirt and a grey sweater and dark grey trousers, and Gale strives to ignore how well they fit him.

He makes a plan to dispose of John's soiled clothes, but when he goes to take John's jacket - a disgusting, perhaps-it-used-to-be-white, utterly terrible sheepskin thing, John snatches it off him and shoves it on over his fresh clothes.

Gale wrinkles his nose and looks at John like he's stupid and gestures at the patches signifying the US Air Force. And John might blush, but still refuses until Gale hands him a short black overcoat, too.

So Gale ushers them outside, and John manages to stay quiet until Gale gets into a beat up old car. John just leans down to the window.

"What's the plan, Buck?"

And Gale wants to tell him everything - about the resistance, about his father, about his need to do something - but he can't. Not here. So he says, "To keep you alive."

And that does the trick, until they start to get closer to town and John's leg bounces up and down until it's driving Gale crazy and he has to put his hand over to settle it, and miraculously, it does.

"I have friends," he says as he drives. "Der Widerstand, yes?"

No. John just looks at him confused.

"They... no Nazis, ja? They...make trouble for Nazis."

And John's face clears like the summer sky and he slumps back into his seat.

"Are you fucking tellin' me, that of all the farms I could have stumbled upon, I find one part of the goddamn resistance?!"

But Gale hushes him fiercely, paranoid, and corrects him. "Not farm. Not father. Just...me."

And John mutters something about crazy people and no appreciation for my lucky jacket, and follows on Gale's heel when he reaches their destination and deems it safe for them to get out the car.

It's only a few feet to the non-descript door, but they feel like the longest chasm John's had to cross.

A square hatch opens and Gale mutters a word and he's yanking Gale inside.

And a whole bunch of arguing follows and someone shoves Gale and John is up in that fucker's grill before he knows what he's about, and exhausted or not, he drops that sucker on his ass with a busted nose so fast, and the place is silent.

"Now I don't know what you're hollerin' about, but if someone wants to get me back to friendly territory, well. That'd be swell."

Gale gestures at him to take off the overcoat, and the other guys in the room see his air force sheepskin and it's like someone cuts a puppet's strings. Everyone relaxes and the guy on the floor looks embarrassed and if Gale kicks him a little as he walks past them, well. John wasn't gonna snitch.

So they come up with a plan to smuggle John out, and he notices Gale is getting further and further way from him, and John digs his heels in and the guy trying to lead him away jerks back.

"Where are you going?" John says to Gale. "He's coming with me."

And the blood rushes from Gale's face but everyone else seems ecstatic at the idea.

"I can't leave you here, Gale. Those Nazi's will figure out you helped me eventually. So just, come with me."

And Gale hears the others thrilled at having a source connected to the Allied forces: the help they could offer, the resources. And Gale trembles, thinking of all those times he'd thought of escaping his father, and all those times he really wanted to help people, and how he just couldn't, being stuck here.

But he didn't want to swap one prison for another.

"Your - Luftwaffe. They will prison me?"

And John looks angry at the idea and vows, "No they fucking won't," and Karl, the leader of their local resistance group, scribbles a note in the code he used that Gale didn't understand and thrust it into Gale's hand."

"Give this to the commanding officer. It will keep you safe."

And that evening, Gale finds himself in the back of a truck, tucked against American pilot John Egan's side, with no idea of what was ahead of him. He was terrified, and excited, and finally felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

A Popstar Grian AU - Ari AU (Part One)

Or, @angeart and I put Grian through a lot of pain for no good reason.

Hello! Like two people showed interest in my post about Ari AU, thus here we are. This is not really a 'fic', but it isn't a short summary either. Let your mind go wild. Let your imagination be free. Read my words, boy.

This is Part One. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. Part Four is here. Part Five is here. The tag for this is #ari au.

But before we start, some introductory things you should know.

This is scarian. Don't read if you do not like scarian.

Grian uses he/she pronouns and is transfem genderqueer, I tend to default to she as it helps differentiate her from other characters a lot, but I mix it up.

I somewhat based this AU on attitudes towards celebrities / stars from the 2000s - present day, so this can be read as a period piece in some ways... This concept started with the song 'The Fear' by Lily Allen. I recommend giving it a listen.

This is the "real world", so no hybrids, no respawn, no "code", etc.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this Part: stalking, physical assault, attempted sexual assault, drugging, mentions of vomit, hospitals, me autismposting about music genres.

You can always stop reading! The AU starts out pretty tame and gradually gets, well, worse. But I promise it has a hopeful ending! Eventually!

(also please ask me questions, send ideas, reblog, comment, etc. because I love this AU a lot) (and thank you to Ange for enabling me and adding amazing scenes to this au)

Album One: ‘Sunshine Sedative’

Grian, better known by her stage name ‘Ari’, is a popular singer-songwriter embarking on a world tour to promote her latest album, Sunshine Sedative. The album is indie pop-y and bright, exploring themes of romance, self-empowerment, and subtle references to gender and sexuality. Grian’s style on-stage is hyper-feminine, flashy, and fashionable. He’s known to be a bit prickly, demanding, and stubborn off-stage, slow to warm up to the people around him.

The tour bus carries both Grian and her key crew. Pearl (marketing, PR and organisational work), Impulse (costumes and tech), and Mumbo (tech assistant and main contact for Grian’s manager). Though Grian likes to self-manage, preferring to do her own make-up and plan the set-lists for her own shows. 

Recently, Grian has been running into some issues with stalker fans and online haters, receiving some threatening messages on social media. Mumbo tries not to let him doomscroll on his phone too much, even going so far as to confiscate the phone while on tour. This is Grian’s biggest tour- no one was prepared for her to become a star or “indie darling” type- and the fans are… a bit crazy.

After the anonymous threats, Grian agrees to get a bodyguard. This is where Scar comes in. At first, Scar is a little terrified. The company he works for advised him not to annoy or upset Grian, and to always call her Miss Ari. Never disagree with her or do anything he isn’t contracted to do. 

Scar throws all of this out of the window pretty fast. Yes, Grian is especially difficult when they first meet, but Scar can tell it’s because Grian is stressed. About the tour, about the fame, about the threats. 

A show results in Grian getting a sore throat, and Scar offers her some tea with honey, rambling on about how his mother used to make it for him when he was sick. Grian begrudgingly takes the tea, and tells Scar to just call her Grian from then on. She’s not a fan of the blurring of her private and public life.

Eventually, Grian gets bored enough to rant to Scar about how Mumbo won’t let him use his phone anymore, and Scar offers to sneak it back to him. They have a laugh scrolling through celebrity news and playing silly games together. Then they get found out and both get a stern talking to from Mumbo and Impulse. (Pearl laughs at them in the background).

As Grian’s tour starts selling out, more tour dates are added, extending their time on the road. Scar continues to sneak Grian’s phone to her, pushing her to have fun rather than scroll through hate messages. It seems like a peak moment for Grian, delighted by the idea that she has so many fans, and beginning to develop a bit of a crush on Scar. Grian even starts acting a little nicer.

Tabloids and Stalkers

The fame comes with more caveats than Grian anticipated. One day, while Scar and Grian are reading some dumb article on Grian’s phone, she receives a random message from a burner account. It’s a picture of Grian, through a hotel window, half dressed. Grian recognises the hotel, one they stayed in a few nights ago just to get away from the tour bus.

Someone knew she would be there. Knew what room she would be staying in. There is a vaguely ominous / threatening message attached. It makes Grian never want to step foot outside again. It makes her feel sick. Suddenly she can’t focus on anything around her.

He has a panic attack. 

Later, as Grian is pacing the floor of the bus, he’s told not to make an announcement about the stalker. She decides herself not to go to the police, and, after some hesitation, not to cancel the tour. They can’t disappoint all those people. 

Over the next few shows, Grian gets closer to Scar. Both because they get along so well, and because Scar is there to protect her. He's clumsy and funny and once he starts talking about something he likes, it��s hard to get him to stop. Grian finds him incredibly endearing and, more importantly, incredibly safe. 

But things are bad. Grian can’t even go to a public bathroom without Scar checking to make sure no one is waiting for her. He feels constantly watched, constantly on-edge, constantly afraid. The paparazzi don’t exactly make it easier.

Tabloids love Ari. She’s a superstar, a real diamond in the rough who came from nothing. They’re obsessed. Anything she does in public can make a tabloid front page. As the tour goes on and her songs rocket up the charts, it only gets worse. The flashes of the cameras have started to scare him.

Scar is an angel, dealing with the paparazzi professionally and confidently. He stands in front of Grian and chases the cameras off. But it feels like they can’t go anywhere. They can’t do anything. Even when they stop at another hotel, Grian can’t tell if the people outside are stalkers or journalists.

The pictures on the tabloid front pages are no longer stunning shots from the shows, but rather blurry snaps of Grian trying to escape the cameras. Images of Grian, wide-eyed and scared by the surprise of a camera flash, before she could put on a fake smile. Grian, through a window in the parked tour bus, with teary eyes. Even private moments are no longer private.

Media outlets start to pay for more intimate photos- anything the journalists might get fired for trying to snap themselves. It gives the stalkers (there are certainly multiple, now) more incentive. Grian keeps the curtains closed in every building he visits, and draws the tiny blinds on the bus. 

Relationship Goals?

In the meantime, Grian’s crush on Scar is getting more obvious, but she’s afraid to say anything. Dragging Scar into this, with all the harassment he would face if they revealed they were together, isn’t what Grian wants. She flinches away when Scar offers a comforting touch, not wanting to risk a photograph. 

Scar is the one, then, who takes the initiative. He sits with Grian on her little fold-out bed at the back of the tour bus, all curtains drawn and the door closed. He holds her close and tells her firmly that no one is going to see them here. They're traveling at 50mph on a motorway and no one can even see through the windows anyway. And that's maybe just enough for Grian to let himself lean into Scars touch. Admit his feelings. 

There’s a sense of shame he's carrying with them. He shouldn't have fallen for his bodyguard- someone who has to stay with him, contractually. She tries to say as much, going on and on about all the terrible risks Scar is bringing to himself by dating her, but Scar cuts Grian off by kissing her, anyway.

As soon as the media gets a hint of the relationship, things seem to go downhill. Diehard fans don’t react kindly to Grian’s choice of man, especially the ones who want to have her for themselves. Someone throws something at Scar when Grian is leaving a show, hitting him on the head. It isn’t a bad injury, but it bleeds a lot, and Grian only feels worse about it when Scar insists he’s okay.

Actual Bodily Harm

The fans seem to get more… intense. Stalking and threats of harm increase, while the fans' behaviour at shows seems to get worse. As the tour is nearing its final few weeks, people start to throw things onto the stage. The first time it happens, Grian cuts the set short without anyone really noticing. The next time, someone throws a glass bottle, and she walks off. 

He tries not to make a big fuss about it, simply leaving without playing a single song. She feels awful, of course, for leaving the normal fans without a show. Perhaps they should refund the tickets, or something. She doesn’t even notice the glass shards in her foot until Scar points them out, horrified. 

Pearl convinces Grian to take a picture of the injury and make a PSA post on social media. Even when the adrenaline wears off, Grian’s resulting breakdown seems subdued. 

No one throws anything at the next few shows, except for a trans pride flag. Grian wears it as a cape, and feels amazing, for once, hearing the cheers and screams of joy at the gesture. She loves that she can be a symbol of hope and love for so many people. It’s even enough of a boost to get him acting more like himself again in private: mischievous, bright, and creative. 

It is near the end of the tour when things go completely, utterly wrong again. Grian and the crew all go to a bar after a show, to celebrate the last week of the tour. Three more shows, and then it’s over. Grian is in somewhat normal clothes, compared to his usual getup, but still puts on his persona just in case they've been followed by the paparazzi (again).

Everyone's having a nice time, drinking a little and hanging out. As always, it is nice to be getting away from the bus. Pearl and Impulse buy far too many shots, much to Mumbo’s dismay. Grian laughs and jokes and raises her voice, not caring if she’s croaky the next day. 

He doesn't notice someone watching him from across the room. Doesn't notice them slip something into her drink when she goes up to the bar. She pays for another pint, and they strike up conversation. Giddily, she chats with them, rambling about how good life has suddenly become. As he sips his drink, he doesn’t register how focused on him they are. How their dark eyes don’t leave him once.

It’s fine, until she stumbles, on the way back to the booth everyone's sitting at, and the stranger catches her before she can fall with strong arms. They're talking, but Grian isn't really listening. She’s nodding along and mumbling about needing to get back to the booth. Back to her friends.

It feels wrong. They keep hold of her shoulders. They're saying something about getting her home safe. Something about how they've been waiting for this…

He realises what’s happening far too late. Panic clutches her chest for a split second. Long enough for him to call out for Scar. She's already being manhandled out of the door before Scar comes to her rescue. Thankfully, by a miracle, close enough to hear the cry for help.

Grian knows something happens to the stranger, because they're on the floor and bleeding. Voices buzz, muffled, around Grian. There are more hands on her. She doesn’t like it. Her head hurts. Scar’s hand is bloody as he hugs her. Grian passes out.

Hospital Visit One

The crew, quite obviously, take Grian to the hospital. He was drugged, and it’s clear what the perpetrator wanted to do. It shakes them all, left wondering whether the creep knew who Grian was, or just randomly targeted a drunk stranger on a night out. Either way, none of them want to go near a bar any time soon.

On the way to the hospital, the press capture pictures of Grian unconscious, or half-awake with no awareness, and by the time the morning rolls in, the papers are already speculating about addiction and ‘gone wild’ narratives. When Grian wakes up, still slightly delirious, he's told, hesitantly, by Pearl, that they have to release a statement soon in order to clear his name and control the narrative. Grian can’t find it in herself to cry about what happened.

Before any statements are made, the police come to talk to Grian. They arrested the perpetrator and searched their house, not that it’ll result in much. They show Grian pictures of rope, duct tape, knives, and a poster from her tour. 

Feeling numb, Grian takes a moment to go throw up in a bin, then tells her team she wants to make a statement now. She wants it recorded, as she is, now. Pearl and Mumbo try to argue that it really isn't a good idea, without a script and looking… bad, but Scar and Impulse back Grian’s choice. Reluctantly, Mumbo grabs one of the nice cameras from his car- the bus was far too conspicuous to park at a hospital- and they record.

They don't know what Grian’s going to say, but, put basically, the video explains everything that has happened- from the stalkers to the glass to the drugging- and apologises to the fans who did nothing wrong. And even the fans who just wanted to know some gossip, because they weren't really to blame. Then she announces that she's cancelling the rest of the tour. 

Mumbo shuts off the camera. Everyone apart from Scar is a bit shocked. Incredulous. Shouldn’t they talk about this? Is it worth it to cancel at the last hurdle? Scar cuts off the protests, pointing out how insensitive it is to try and make Grian perform after everything. Grian stays quiet as Scar somewhat lectures the others. It’s a rambling mess of an argument, but it works. They apologise. 

The statement video is posted online, and Grian is left to rest. Scar remains at his side.

Once Grian is checked over and discharged, they get back to the bus fast. She retreats to her closed-off space at the back of the bus, telling everyone to get on with their jobs. Once she's alone, she replays the images the police showed her in her mind. He thinks about what could have happened. He thinks about the stranger's hands on his shoulders and at his hips. She remembers that she started out just wanting to make music, and she cries.

[theshypinkflower]

🎃 Kinktober ~ Intoxication/Facless

🔨 Strade (Day 10)

Non con, intoxication, dubcon?, idk some type of con, public sex

You really should be more careful of how you drink! Poor little you, couldn't even wall with how much you drank. Then again, was it really your fault? There was such a kind stranger at the bar and he just kept buying you round after round. What reason did you have not to trust him? He was so friendly and he called you such nice things.

Although you really couldn't tell when the nice things stopped and the degradation kicked in. Surely “leibling” and “dumpkoff” mean the same thing. How could they not when he always spoke with such a smile! He'd talk to you all the while you threw back shots. “My, you've had enough to drink an Irishman under the table,” he'd chuckle before sliding you a beer. 

“Oh shit,” you muttered and rubbed your eyes, “I really shouldn't.” Your words were slurred and a mess thanks to your inebriated state. You tried to resist having anymore, you were hardly having a hard time holding your head up! But…one more drink wouldn't hurt right? 

You loved the way it burned your throat the entire way down. Alcohol was always the miracle solution for when you wanted to forget. And forget you did! Why, you couldn't even remember what his face looked like. “Okay..now…’hould go home,” you hiccuped as you struggled to stand up.

Your legs wobbled and buckled, thank goodness he was there to catch you. “You ‘ought to be careful! Could've hit the ground and cracked your head!” He said with a laugh as he put your arm around his neck. Your enabler happily led you out the door, and stupid little you didn't even realize he was leading you away from your car.

Took you a moment to realize you were instead in an alleyway. The smell from the garbage did not help your senses, and you immediately lurched over to throw up what little food in your stomach. You could hear him laugh as you vomited and stumbled like an utter idiot, clinging to him for dear life.

“Awww, feel better?” He cooed to which you slowly nodded. “Don't worry, buddy, I can make you feel a whole lot better,” he said with a sultry grin. You didn't even fight him as he shoved your head against the brick wall, snaking his other hand around your waist to undo your pants. “Not even gonna fight? Perhaps I gave you one too many!” He laughed in your ear as he fondled you. 

You whined as he nudged your pants and underwear down. “Heyyyyyy…not in public!” You complained as his chest pressed against your back. His boner poked your ass, eliciting a drunken giggle from you. “What if someone sees us?” you added and squirmed underneath his weight.

“Oh I doubt a drunk little thing like yourself would care if they're seen,” the stranger whispered in your ear. He pulled his cock out, grinding it against the soft plush of your ass. “Infact, I think you'd enjoy it!” he exclaimed before shoving his cock deep inside you, no lube or anything.

You let out a pained yelp as your hole stretched uncomfortably around his length. It wasn't long before he began moving his hips, biting into your neck to stifle a moan. Tears welled up in your eyes due to the painful feeling. The pain easily subsided as he began getting you off with his hand. 

You couldn't help but moan and grind against his hand. “Aren't you a vocal little birdie?” The voice teased as you fucked yourself back onto his cock. “So desperate! You just wanted to get fucked in an alleyway, huh?” He asked as his hips roughly slammed into you. The slutty moans you let out was enough of a response for him. 

You continued bucking your hips against his hand, fucking yourself stupid on his hand and dick. He groaned as you clenched around him, feeling so nice ‘n tight around his length. “You make such a good toy for me,” he groaned. You were much to inebriated and fucked silly to comprehend his words. It was a sight for him to see your brain practically leak out. 

His cock throbbed as he abused the sweet spot in your ass. He grinded his hips against yours, cumming deep inside you with a groan. You whined and whimpered as you came all over his hand, leaving a sticky mess. He panted and pulled out, watching his cum spill out and onto your clothes below. You sighed in content, your eyes heavy and your shoulders slouched. 

“Heh, if you're here next week, I'll buy you another round, buddy!”

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - ONE

Series

summary: Steve can't remember what happened lat night, but his body sure does. Regret is the worst hangover of all– even more so when you can't remember what you regret.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 955

chapter warnings: vague memories, indications of trauma, bruises, insomnia, dissociation, derealization, non-sexual nud1ty, mention and description of vomiting, anxiety attack, crying

a/n: So... this happened. the original wip was a one-shot inspired by this year's Whumptober Prompt #17: COLLAR, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"; as well as Alt. Prompt #15: RELUCTANT WHUMPER. I was going to use an idea I've had for a long time, but then I wrote... and wrote... and wrote... and now we're here. I struggled deciding on an idea for this and am thinking about also writing a separate work with Bucky, but I might also maybe be planning one from the readers POV, and maybe kinda sorta joining the two together and seeing where it goes. we'll see! I hope you enjoy

The most specialest of special thanks to two of my loves @vonalyn and @lunarbuck for helping me flesh out this idea and enable me in my destruction ♥ i owe you both a beefy alpha soon

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always ♥

Saturday, currently.

The alarm clock on Steve Rogers’ bedside table blares louder than it usually does.

Steve is already awake, however. He’s been awake for hours, lying in bed, staring unblinking at the faded white ceiling of his frat house bedroom. His eyes are bloodshot, the corners crusted from one part insomnia and one part tears. His body aches. Every muscle, every bone, feels like he’s been beaten senseless.

He doesn’t remember when he stopped crying.

Finally, he blinks. Slowly, unevenly, inhaling deeply. He holds it for a moment, the pressure in his chest providing some semblance of feeling in the numbness throughout his body. An exhale forces its way out of his lungs once the pressure begins to burn. He wills his hand to move, dropping on top of the alarm clock and his room falls back into silence once more. His hand falls limp off the nightstand as he drags it back to his side.

In a blur of his very few– and very failed– attempts to sleep that night, Steve remembers the second time he woke with a shout halfway out his throat. The navy blue comforter had tangled up in his sprawled limbs, the sheets being an entirely different mess at the foot of the bed. He’d thrown all of the covers on his bed onto the floor around three in the morning, when he succumbed to the threat of nightmares and insomnia, forced to lie awake.  

His skin feels filthy, coated in scum and shame. Cold sweat beads on his forehead, neck, and back. His clothes– an old t-shirt he dug out of his closet and a reused pair of boxers– cling to him like a second, heavy skin. He needs to shed it, tear it off his body, claw it off until he hits bone. Everything feels suffocating as his tired brain swims with flashbacks to the night– the disaster– before. The shouts. The people. The sweat and tears. 

The sex.

The thought of the word itself– and all connotations now attached to it– is enough to send a lurch through Steve’s stomach. It comes to a rolling boil, ready to spill up and out his throat, a touch of acid burning the back of his tongue. He scrambles out of bed and sprints to the bathroom down the hall. The door flies open, lights flickering on as he slaps a free hand not covering his mouth at the light switch. He falls to his knees at the front of the toilet and heaves, instantly discarding the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He gags once, then twice, as tears stream down his face and neck. Strong hands grip the rim of the bowl like a vice, an anchor, to hold himself steady as he trembles. Curses echo off the porcelain and back up at him as he spits a final time, flushing and slumping against the cool acrylic of the bathtub. Part of him hopes he didn’t wake up the rest of the house, but another part hopes he did; he hopes that his retching reminds them, too, of what happened. 

Like they would fucking care.

Steve wipes his mouth. Clammy skin catches on his chapped lips. He groans, his heart racing, the room spinning, as he attempts to gather himself. The grimy feeling remains on his skin; his hands feel especially filthy. He inhales, shaky, and grabs onto the side of the tub. Despite his build– muscular and fit and usually capable– he struggles to stand from the floor. Once on stable feet, he shuffles to the bathroom door and pushes the button on the knob. The door locks with a soft click. He double checks by jiggling the handle. Nodding to himself, Steve turns to face the mirror, sliding off his damp t-shirt and boxers, dropping them to the floor. His hands morph into tight fists at his side, hard gaze remaining fixed on the nickel-plated faucet of the sink. Shame gnaws at him, at his insides, at his soul. 

He can’t even face his own fucking reflection. 

Half-moons cut into each of his palms, fingernails digging into flesh; it's a sorry attempt at trying to ground himself. He chews at his lip and cheek, a copper taste coating his tongue when the tissue becomes raw. Eyes shut, face screwed tightly, he pivots his head up. He forces his eyes open, his gaze instantly met with a stranger.

He doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror. There are still-red, still-raw scratches panning across a hard chest and running down the abdomen. Bruises are strewn sporadically down arms and shoulders. The occasional bite mark becomes visible when the man moves his arms, rotating them, inspecting them in the mirror. Focus shifts to the groin. Claw marks, desperate and haphazard, litter thick thighs, the strands of raw red leading up to his dick. Flaccid. Still sensitive. The body mimicking Steve’s gestures doesn’t seem real. It isn’t him. This shitty replica, beaten and bruised– it isn’t him. 

Finally, his gaze shifts to the face.

Steve’s mouth dries up immediately, the lump in his throat growing bigger, thicker. Swallowing quickly becomes impossible. All blood drains from his face. His limbs lose feeling. He doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t remember– he cannot fucking remember.

Surrounding Steve’s right eye, swimming in sickly colors in the tender flesh of his cheek and temple, lies a blackened, bruised eye. Purples and blues and greens are painted around his swelling lid; the skin is still tender and throbbing. He brings his hand to his face and traces the wound delicately, as if he’ll further mar the skin on his own body. He flinches at the lightest touch against it. 

It hurts as he starts to cry.

[writingdotcoffee]

Writing Challenge: Fast Drafting

Fast drafting, or vomit drafting, is a pretty self-explanatory approach to writing. You try to get the first draft down as fast as you can. Contrary to what the name suggests, it's not all about speed (or, well, indigestion).

In this post, we'll go over the benefits of fast drafting and why you should try it at least once.

Why Fast Draft?

Although you write faster than usual when fast drafting, speed isn't the point. For most writers, speed isn't a concern at all. Who cares whether it took you three, six or nine months to finish your book?

The problem many writers face is getting bogged down and never finishing at all. You probably heard the stats before. Nine out of ten writers who start working on a book will never finish the first draft.

Often, the issue isn't time or energy. These aspiring authors are paralysed by self doubt, second-guessing everything.

I still remember my first attempt at writing a novel. I spent weeks writing and rewriting the first few paragraphs — about 700 words. And that's it. I never got beyond that.

It starts by going back to edit stuff — rephrasing a few sentences here and there. Any bigger issue you can't fix right away will gnaw on you. Suddenly, you've got this feeling simmering inside of you that the story won't work.

You go back to your outline and start moving things around. Maybe you killed the sidekick too early? Isn't the build-up too predictable? Ugh! The whole thing is a mess, and you don't want to be working on it anymore.

How Fast Drafting Works?

The goal is to keep your mind focused on making progress. You don't want to give it a chance to second-guess anything until you've finished the first draft.

It's surprisingly difficult to do if you haven't done it before.

Your first draft will be a mess. All first drafts are. But you will have to ignore that and keep ploughing ahead. Your inner perfectionist will be in agony.

To stay disciplined, many writers don't allow themselves to fix anything. Mistyped a word? It stays in. No exceptions.

Editing is a slippery slope. You fix a typo here and there. Next, you're fixing the odd structural issue, moving a few paragraphs around. Before you know it, you're outlining again, wondering whether you should rather kill the sidekick in chapter 24.

That said, a messy first draft can be a blessing. Instead of seeing your first draft as this seemingly polished thing, you see it for the mess that it is. No matter how much you edit during the first draft, it will never be perfect.

When you start editing, you'll fix the typos and obvious issues. That will help you get into the flow and be ready to tackle the big things next.

The Editing Lock

Writing Analytics (the app that I built) has a thing called the editing lock. When you enable it, you won't be able to delete anything from your draft.

Every time I use it, I'm surprised just how much I go back to edit stuff. It's so helpful.

It was a suggestion from one of the readers of the blog a while ago (massive thank you 🙏).

If you'd like to try it, the app is free for everyone for the first two weeks.

The Challenge

Spend an hour or more this week fast-drafting a story. Come up with an idea and stick to it until the end — no matter what. Put the editing lock on if you're struggling and crush all the self-doubt that comes up with a steamroller.

I set up a challenge where you can write along with me (and others):

https://app.writinganalytics.co/challenge/646c860be7b6ddfbda016a9c

[osamucide]

love/paranoia

i've heard those words before

wc: 1.6k

cw: drug use (xanax, ecstacy), bonten!sanzu, gn!reader, angst and fluff, mentions of sex, side effects of drug use including but not limited to vomiting/nightmares/irritability/memory loss, soft sanzu

reid: another one with a lot of projection regarding drugs. not intended to romanticize substance abuse. dont do drugs please. no explicit sexual content in this one i guess but i'd still prefer mdni thank u enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

He insisted that rolling would help it, and before you could oppose the intake of another substance, he revealed he’d already cut up a whole capsule and parachuted it before he drove back. You wanted so badly to cry and scream and hold onto him to make him feel how intensely you were trembling, but it wasn’t like he’d be receptive enough to an outburst to learn from it anyway, so you didn’t bother. Also too was the soft, sudden stillness of his restless eyes as soon as yours started to glaze over with tears (you hated when he drove fucked up). Gentleness never escaped his hands when he held you, no matter how high he was – maybe this was an indication that you were too docile, too understanding, maybe even enabling of his habits – but you never let his capability slip your mind. How exhausting it sometimes was to love someone who, no matter how receptive to your emotions, might become unpredictably far away from you, just for a bar or two. Instead of pushing him away or looking at him with misplaced disappointment, though, you brushed his pink bangs out of his eyes and led him to the couch, working him out of his dress shirt and belt along the way. After all, you knew better than anyone around him (not saying much) that recovery was not linear.

Cherry blossom locks now tucked into your neck, you stroked his face and willed him to relax the muscles in his jaw that clenched and unclenched against your shoulder. He whimpered every so often and seldom kept his legs still, probably not consciously. The conversation that was to follow in the morning probably would not be any easier than if it took place now because the it he was trying to help was the month-long Xanax bender he’d been on; even when he was sober, he was making an effort to focus on anything other than whatever physical side effect was fighting relentlessly for his attention, whether it be a splitting headache, curdling nausea, or auditory hallucinations that he could no longer distinguish as results of whatever he’d fed himself or the erratic loss of sleep. Benzos sent him up so high that he couldn’t really even recall how they made him feel. He knew two things: that the crippling emptiness was gone when he was up there, and that his being up there rapid-fired bullets through your heart. A third thing, perhaps: if you loved him any less, you’d be gone.

There were still glimpses of Haruchiyo, no matter how high or low. Haruchiyo, ever the chaser of extremes. Haruchiyo and his unwavering loyalty. Haruchiyo and his promise to himself that he would never, ever harm you. Not intentionally, of course. And yet, it would still be hard. He would still cry and bicker and argue, even in the closest thing to a right state of mind he could achieve. He would still lock himself in the bathroom (which you had emptied of everything down to the gummy vitamins) because he couldn’t deal with it. He would still complain when you’d pat his clothes down before he’d go out, both of you knowing damn well he’d score something, anything while he was gone. But he’d never tell you to stop. He’d never get physical with you like he did the rats and snakes and opposers of the syndicate or anyone who wasn’t you or the king who dared to get within a foot of him, really. He could be violently passionate without drugs; it was just a matter of which way he wanted to lose his grip on sanity, fry his brain. Sink into the mental of a cold-hearted murderer, or become a bioweapon against his own body and mind? Perhaps, he thought during fleeting moments of clarity before he’d wonder who he could hit up next, he was worse than both and always would be, even if he got clean, because he let himself slip to the point where both were very viable, uncomfortably pressing futures. Maybe they were realities already, and it was only a matter of time before they caught up to him in his muddled awareness and swallowed him whole. In an ideal world, he’d be able to leave Mikey and the rest of them to burn and go kill himself with you using nothing but red wine and the adoration that burned between the two of you. His penchant for destruction terrified him; you were the only thing he’d ever touched without yet ruining completely. The thought that you might be scared of him too was what made him want out; if only it were that easy to just do. You weren’t blind to this, having stood witness to the cracks in his mask, and each time they split a little further, and that was why you did your best to understand his rationale for popping molly to counteract the benzo hangover.

There was a glimpse of Haruchiyo in the way he clawed for your hand that rested on his cheek. In the way he shoved his lips to your palm. In the way he mumbled something largely incoherent into it (something he did long before he started using). (You caught “want you to know” and “after today” and “love you very, very much”.) Regardless of the gravity of the situation or what he had coursing through his system, you’d always giggle into his hair and tell him you love him back.

He didn’t not want your love. He was pretty sure he needed it. He was not convinced he deserved it.

Not when you were holding his hair back as he vomited into the kitchen sink. Not when you were massaging the ache of pins and needles out of his limbs. Not when you were kissing the tear tracks off his face in the middle of the night to wake him up slowly but surely from the delirious night terrors he was having. He thanked whatever was conducting the universe that he was still rational enough to recognize how wonderful you were. He looked at you like you could soothe even the worst of all evils borne of human selfishness. Oh, you were so selfless for him. He hated it, he needed it, and it was undoubtedly the reason he was still alive.

“Haru,” wisped your voice into his ear, and if it was possible for him to sink further into you, he would’ve.

He hummed in response.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

But the drone and flicker of the television in the dark living room was at just the right amount of subdued to feel serene and he was so warm in your arms already, so why move? It's not like he'd even gotten home that long ago. The only other thing he hoped for was maybe that you’d fuck him; sex always felt otherworldly when he was rolling, and he knew the sounds you loved left his throat that much more languidly when he was on E. And then he could sleep off the comedown - it'd be perfect. It was these thoughts that let you shift him to his feet. Never at any point did he unravel himself from you, knees knocking into yours, arms clutched sweetly around whatever part of you he could get a hold on, cheek pressed to your head or face or shoulder or wherever you'd let him end up.

"'M'want you," Haruchiyo all but whined as you pulled a t-shirt over him and wiggled him out of his pants. The clock by the bed blinked half-past three am, so it was true he had indeed arrived back home over two hours ago. It was also true that ecstasy claimed his time in a different way than anything else. You didn't help. Every second he spent with you was too short. All too soon he'd have to leave again.

"You should sleep," you shushed him, gently dodging the wet kisses he attempted at the expanse of your neck as you leaned back down to hold him close. At least he was still upright. "You have work tomorrow."

"Don't care. 'Always get it done, don' I?" His voice was a little hoarse, his breath smelled vaguely of one of the Dunhill International Reds Ran always kept inside his jacket, and you could sense his pout from beneath your chin as his arms dangled loosely around you. "Wanna feel you."

"Tomorrow," you said with finality.

He groaned. His lips were still wandering, his tongue was still prodding at your jugular, but with notable laziness. The cooling distress in your system had exhausted you anyway, and he was not unfamiliar with the sensation of you seeping into him. So, he let you melt into him and push him back gently, not even toward the head of the bed. (He didn’t realize, of course; he was just happy to be laying under you as he rolled to a stop.)

Love you, love you, love you was pressed repeatedly into your skin with his slowing fingers. Love you would be all he could think to say when he'd find his way to the kitchen the next morning to see you sitting at the counter, carefully cutting up a bar into tiny pieces for him to gradually chase off the withdrawal. You were better rehab for him than any institution Kakucho could threaten to throw him in. As much as he knew you hated to watch him destroy himself, you understood. There was a glimpse of Haruchiyo when he scooted his chair impossibly close to yours just to lay his head on your shoulder.

"Don't even want any right now."

You smiled to yourself. You will soon. "I'm proud of you, my love." Yeah, he was going to get better for you. For you, for you, for you. You loved him so much it made him want to love himself.

[shockingshinx12-shinx]

In the authors notes for your fic "a dog's breakfast" you mentioned that you have a lot of opinions about Clockwork's involvement in TUE. I am curious what your opinions are, cause I've got some of my own, and I wonder how much they align.

I spent several hours typing up a response to this earlier and I hit something and tumblr DELETED IT WHILE I WAS MID-WAY THROUGH!!!!! SO I HAD TO RESTART AGAIN JHGDFGHGDF sorry for the delay o7

BUT BOY HOWDY DO IT, A LOT IN FACT!! I already dragged 2 of my friends to watch the ep. so I could give them the full rundown of what I'm talking about, so thank you for enabling me cause I love talking about this! Buckle in cause I have ADHD and tend to word vomit, so I hope this all makes sense

I'm sure you've seen a million bajillion people say this already (plus your own thoughts, opinions, and observations) so this may all be stuff you know, but the OG ep is filled with several time paradoxes that make absolutely no sense, which can probably be attributed to the writers not really caring about the logistics of a kids show time-travel ep. But if you wanna look at it from an in-universe standpoint,Clockwork is directly responsible for the events of TUE in both Dan and Danny’s timeline

Let’s start with what we know: (Also, sorry for the crunchy screenshots, I work with what I got)

CW sends Box-Lunch back in time to fight Danny, which causes the Nasty burger to be condemned/abandoned for several days

CW sends Skulk-Tech back in time, which causes the heating element to start heating up the vats of Nasty sauce

Danny and Co. beat Skulk-Tech which transports them to CW’s lair and forces them to flee to the future to escape his “wrath”, which then gives Dan a chance to escape to the past to recreate the NB explosion and ensure his continued existence

OK SO! These are the key points!

Dan Mentions during one of his Spiels to Danny that his loved ones died in an explosion at the Nasty burger, which is reinforced by Vlad when Danny goes to him for help. Similar enough events to what we see in the episode.

The Nasty Burger explosion wouldn’t have happened if Clockwork hadn’t sent Box-Lunch and Skulk-tech to the past. Their direct influence on the present-timeline is what set up those dominoes. This means that CW interfered and fucked Dan over intentionally in his timeline and didn’t do anything to change, or fix what he caused.

The heating element wouldn’t have been left on and unattended if Danny didn’t have to fight Box-Lunch, and the sauce wouldn’t have exploded if Skulk-Tech hadn’t crashed and pushed the element towards the vats.

There’s something to be said about leaving dangerous equipment unattended, so even if Skulk-Tech hadn’t crashed into the kitchen, there’s a chance something else in there could’ve caught fire and triggered an explosion, but it would’ve been at a completely different time, and could’ve potentially been caught and stopped by repair crews (potentially). Skulk-Tech’s involvement ensured the explosion happened sooner. You could also argue that Danny’s fights take him all over the city, and you’d be correct. There’s a possibility that, if Box-Lunch hadn’t been sent back and Danny was fighting one of his other present-day rogue’s, they could’ve accidentally gone crashing through the NB as well; but it’s not guaranteed to have the same result as the Box-Lunch fight. All his Rogue’s are vastly different, with different strengths, weaknesses, fighting styles, and reactions. For example, there’s no guarantee that if Johnny 13 and Shadow went flying through the NB, they’d stay long enough for Danny to think of using the sauce as a weapon against them. Not only that, but it's not guaranteed he'd fight more than one ghost that day. From what we see, none of his usual rogue's bug him during that specific day, so there's a chance he doesn't even fight anyone at all.

If it could be done by anyone else, CW wouldn't have gone through the trouble of pulling ghosts from the future. We also know Dan has met CW before and knows what he does, very specifically stating “Clockwork! Meddling again". So clearly he knows what Clockwork's done, at least to some degree.

Not to mention, Clockwork seems like a chaotic neutral character at BEST. Why would he see fit to completely ruin Danny’s life in the first place? Him going out of his way to do such a thing just doesn’t make sense to me, I can’t see him doing that on purpose, but the events ONLY happen due to his interference. Clockwork is initially shown as only intervening and sending Box-Lunch back because the Observant's ask him to, but if that’s the case, what caused the Nasty burger explosion in Dan’s timeline? Sure, Clockwork is mischievous like anyone else, we see it in the way he slams Danny repeatedly into a bell, but he’s not outright malevolent.

Also quick side-note, Valerie outright blames Phantom for causing the explosion but we know for a fact that Danny didn’t want that to happen, he was literally heartbroken. This could be interpreted a couple different ways I suppose; -One being: that Danny was flying around as Phantom post-explosion while trying to find his family in the rubble and the public wrongfully blamed him again. But that can’t be possible because Danny Fenton WAS found at the scene of the explosion. The paper outright says he was the lone survivor, so if Phantom was flying around, no one would've been able to find "Fenton" at the scene. -Or two being: a different future evil version of Phantom caused the explosion in Dan’s timeline just like Dan did in Danny’s timeline, which is just as impossible as the first option, but more in line with the canon we're given. If he did, Dan would’ve known he was going to lose and would've done things differently, accounted for his previous versions mistakes, not to mention he says Danny shouldn’t get the ghostly wail for 10 more years, plus his surprise that Jazz knew about his secret. If Dan really did have to face a jerky version of himself in his timeline before the explosion, he would’ve acquired the wail long ago and seen Jazz's note. Not to mention present-timeline Danny is grossed out by the idea of having his humanity ripped out. I’d apply that same “grossed-out” feeling to Dan, even if he is mega-depressed after moving to Vlad’s. But also, Dan is only created due to Skulk-Tech and Box-Lunches intervention in the past, who only come into creation due to Dan's rampages in the future. This option would also mean there’s an infinite amount of Phantom’s being displaced in time, constantly, but Clockwork only has the one thermos.

That also brings up another issue.

The Observants make it seem like this is a “first”, but  if the explosion only happens cause of Clockwork’s interference with ST and BL in the past, which causes Dan’s creation, then in some timeline before Dan’s- Danny had to become evil to enable the right conditions for each of those “new” ghosts to exist. This means Dan was doomed from the start, the cards were stacked against him, and this loop has been going on for an indeterminate/indefinite amount of time. (Idk if that makes sense, I’m really bad at explaining my thoughts in ways people understand so I made a diagram. Hope this makes the point I’m trying to make clear?)

Ok with the ghosts out of the way, what about the answer booklet? Danny wouldn’t have obtained the answers to the CAT if he hadn’t gone flying through Mr. Lancer’s briefcase at the NB.

This next part contradicts my statement that Dan’s timeline is partially a circle that feeds itself, but bear with me. I attack this from different angles (cause technically both these angles may or may not co-exist at the same time cause this whole ep. Is a mess and we already have an incursion that conflicts with other stated facts of canon JHGDHGJFGHFD this also treads a little more into headcanon area, so I guess take it with a grain of salt if you feel I'm reaching)

Danny seemed genuinely surprised the booklet was there, and his eyes went wide at the prospect that he even could study the answers, like it hadn’t even crossed his mind before that moment. I’d like to think that he wouldn’t have even thought about that being an option till after the test, in a comedic “Man, I’m surprised you didn’t just steal the answers” comment from Tucker which would have caused Danny to facepalm so hard.

 We’re never actually given the reason why in Dan’s timeline, he and his loved ones were at the Nasty Burger. Clockwork just says “He turns evil? ‘Cause he’s under pressure from some ‘test’?” which isn’t really a confirmation of anything other than he’s “stressed”, and Sam and Tucker just assume that Danny cheating is the cause with no further evidence than that. Sure, Dan cheats to lure everyone to the Nasty Burger, but that’s because he knows it’ll work. I have reason to believe that in his OG timeline, that’s not exactly how events went down, that he was framed.

This little assumption of mine is based on a few context clues we’re given: First; Danny seems genuinely concerned about doing a good job on this test. He’s actually trying to study for it, he’s putting in the effort, even if he says he quits just before Box-Lunch's assault.

Second; Why were Tucker and Sam at a parent teacher conference that was meant to be between the Fenton’s and Mr. Lancer?

Third; We have the line Lancer says to Jazz when she mentions he has no proof Danny stole the cheat sheet, “Fair enough. He has up until the test to return the answers. BUT! If he cheats, I won’t just fail him, I’ll DESTROY his future!” This shows Lancer has already cemented in his mind that Danny has stolen them, and nothing can convince him otherwise. Cause Jazz is right, Lancer has no proof Danny stole the answers. Sure, he overheard Tucker say something to Danny about not cheating, and when he looked in his case they were gone, but that’s not really grounds for anything. The operative word in Tucker’s statement was “thinking”, which should've cued anyone who was eavesdropping in that Danny hadn’t done anything yet. (IK he has the answers at this time in the ep, but that’s besides the point I’m making here) (Also, the specific quote Tucker says that Lancer overhears is: “Yeahh, you’re right. You’re not thinking of cheating on a test that you’re convinced will determine your future.”) Anyway, despite not having proper proof, he’s already hellbent on ruining Danny’s life no matter what the truth might be.

Fourth; No one gives us specific details about what happened in Dan’s timeline, they’re all based on vague details, assumptions, and jumped conclusion. 

I wanna say in Dan’s OG timeline he never actually steals the answers. Lancer was literally walking around everywhere with that briefcase, It’s got a giant target painted on it due to him hand-cuffing it to his wrist. Now I’m not gonna say I know the logistics of stealing shit, but from what I’ve seen of irl lockpicking videos, and the fact that while the briefcase has 2 locks, Lancer only needed to use his key to unlock 1 side, it would be stupidly easy to open his briefcase, anyone could’ve done it. It’s just a matter of distracting him long enough to get it open.

If someone else stole the answers Dan probably would’ve still been Lancer’s main suspect, due to his grades, attendance, running out mid-lesson, and all that other jazz (pun intended), as well as the fact that we already know Lancer shows favoritism towards some students, so he wouldn’t suspect them right away, if at all. It makes Dan the perfect scapegoat in that situation, a bad student, woefully unprepared for the exam of a lifetime, trying to ensure he doesn’t fail, that gets into mischief all the time. 

It’d explain why he and his family were called to the Nasty Burger, as well as why Sam and Tucker might be there. They could’ve been trying to defend him from the accusations, trying to build Danny’s case, and demand or plead that Lancer not do anything rash. 

The explosion still would’ve had to be caused by CW’s intervention of sending ghosts from the future, which I know doesn’t make sense with how Danny gets the CAT answers, but this idea that Dan’s innocent plays with the fact that no one makes it seem like Danny actually cheated in Dan’s OG timeline. This headcanon makes no sense and I’m well aware of that, but for all intents and purposes, I never saw Dan as being guilty of cheating, it's all flimsy here-say. Not to mention him losing all his friends and family for such a thing is an unjustly cruel punishment for everyone involved, and is extremely stupid. (That being said, I'm not saying Danny ISN'T capable of cheating, I'm just stating he wouldn't cheat here specifically)

He was just painted in a bad light, wrongfully blamed for something he didn’t do, and he’s just a kid who went through something awful. Everyone has it out for him in this scenario, and everyone keeps telling him he’s a monster. Valerie spends 10 years of their future supposedly blaming Phantom for the death of his own friends and family, so if that’s all he’s ever told, of course he sees that as being the only way. (Now I'm not saying Dan's innocent of murder and shit, just that he didn't do what was accused of him before and immediately after the NB explosion)

Anyway, my conclusion to the above is a restatement from earlier, and the TLDR is; none of it makes any goddamn sense, and none of it should’ve happened. Clockwork doesn’t seem like an outwardly malignant ghost, so him going and messing with Danny doesn’t make sense, but TUE only occurs because he crafted that series of events. Also the fact that Danny turned into Dan in a countless number of repeating realities/timelines before Clockwork was forced to stop it by the observants. (And also my headcanon I guess that he didn’t ACTUALLY cheat). 

I got a bunch more opinions on other stuff tho. Like about the Nasty burger, the logistics of Dan going to the past the way he did, Danny’s ghost half being ripped from his human half and why phantom did what he did afterwards HJGFDGFGD but this post’s already kinda long so I’ll leave it for another day if you wanna hear about it!! I love talking about this sorta thing so feel free to ask away

Hope you enjoyed my little rant!! And I desperately hope it makes sense HGDFGFJHD

WAIT EDIT: ALSO ALSO, IK everyone loves to depict CW as a mentor figure to Danny whose caring, but that is not the vibe I get from him at ALL. As I said, I think he's a chaotic neutral character at best

[campbyler]

ok. a genuine question. how do u guys write 20-30k *chapters* bc i will outline fics minutely or i will just let myself start writing based off a vibe & either way i will get 600 words out of maybe. two hours of work. on a good day with no distractions/interruptions, & i very much do not have an uninterrupted two hours to write very often, so you can imagine how slowly things get written T_T so i’m interested if there’s any aspect of any of your writing processes that really enables u guys to write so much or if it’s not really something you think about? anyways i really like ur guys’s work, & thank you for deciding to write for byler bc i know me and a lot of people enjoy it a lot. thanks!!

hello !! this is a super valid question and i’ll try my best to answer it for you 😗✌️

andi infamously writes a lot faster than thea and i do (she finished draft 1 of chapter 3 in like. two days. which was so scary. i’m in awe of her fr) but she has also spent a lot of time editing ch3 so it’s definitely not like these chapters are publish-ready in a short amount of time by any means! it took thea a couple of months total to fully write + edit ch1 and it took me about 3.5 weeks to write ch2 and another two weeks to edit it which is part of the reason we’ve spaced out our posting schedule like we have — we put a lot of effort and care into these updates and we want to give ourselves as much time as possible to get ahead before all 3 of us inevitably get so super busy with work and/or school in the fall!! so while we do write a lot, please don’t think we are so insanely speedy about it because unless we are having Really Good Writing Days, that’s definitely not the case. sometimes we do have days where we are really in the zone and write more than usual, but at least for me, this is so so so rare. whatever i write in this time gets heavily edited because so much of it was nonsensical brain vomit LOL

as far as writing process goes, i think one of the things that motivates us a lot is that we genuinely do just talk about this au constantlyyyyy like we’re always coming up with silly little hcs or drawing for it or adding to the Lore ™️so we’re always getting inspired to write! all three of us are definitely people who use writing as a way to relax or even reward ourselves after a long day; we would probably die if we had to go too long unable to :/ messages like “i can’t wait to get home and write after work today” or “i’m going to write a little bit of ___ before bed because i deserve it” are very commonly found in our gc because we really just look forward to it so much! as for our scary word counts, i feel like there is a lot of worldbuilding in this universe specifically, and pacing is really important to us — we want to make sure introductions and set-up to a scene and character interactions are meaningful and flow naturally, and building tension (which is a hallmark of this fic hehe) does take some time, which can definitely add up word count-wise.

for the most part, none of us usually have a solid few hours to sit and write either (unless it’s on our days off or after work if we’re not too tired) and we get a lot of writing done in chunks! we hold each other accountable for short check-ins (“ask me for a snip in 30 minutes”) which is super helpful when you’re stuck, because it kind of forces you to get Something down without worrying if it’s super polished and edited and perfect. if you’re writing on your own, something i’ve started doing lately is setting a 15 minute timer and just seeing how much i can get done in that time, and then setting another and doing it again (up until however much time you have to write that day). i’ve found that the artificial deadline helps break the monotony of sitting in front of your computer for Hours on end with nothing to show for it bc TRUST we’ve all been there and it sucks so bad 😔✊

this got super long so i apologize but i hope at least a little bit of it was helpful! it definitely helps that we are constantly feeding into each other (i.e: having brainrot) and offering inspiration and advice, which does wonders for creative flow tbh. we’re definitely not cranking these chapters out as quickly as people might seem to think — thea started chapter four, which won’t be posted for about a month, maybe a week or two ago. i just started chapter 5 — about 6 weeks away — yesterday lol so we do take our time! don’t be scared by the giant chapters, we just had a lot of content we wanted to include in each one and are in too deep to take anything out 🥳🥳 thank you for the question! good luck with your writing we believe in you 🫡

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 18, Unread - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count:  970

Previously On...: Bucky made all kinds of sweet suggestions for your future together.

A/N: Almost there...

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Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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After Bucky had kissed you goodbye and left for his debrief, you set about getting ready for your day. You showered and brushed your teeth, pleasantly noticing that you hadn’t vomited since last night. Maybe good cock was the cure you’d needed all this time, you thought with a laugh.

You stripped and remade your bed because, though you knew you’d probably just be getting it filthy again as soon as Bucky was back, you weren’t excited about getting back into cold, damp sheets. Maybe you should invest in one of those absorbent sex blankets you’d read about online. You could buy one for your new place!

That thought led you to open up Zillow on your laptop to browse available apartments in the general area. You didn’t want to move too far away; you both still needed to be at the Tower for work, after all. You had to admit, now that you were giving it some real thought, the idea excited you. Not just because you wanted to move in with Bucky, but because you’d be creating, for the first time in your entire life, a home of your very own, without feeling beholden to anyone for it, whether out of love or a sense of obligation. The very notion was elating. 

You were browsing through some gorgeous but ridiculously overpriced condos when you heard a phone buzz. You glanced at your screen, but it was black. Frowning, you glanced around and noticed Bucky’s cell sitting on one of your bedside tables. He must have forgotten it before he left for his meeting.

You walked over to it and glanced at the screen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the newly received message from Sam that caught your attention. It was the notification below it, informing Bucky that he had one new text message from ‘Vix <3.’

That’s not possible, you thought as you picked up the phone. I blocked her number, myself. There’s no way she should be able to text him. Against your better judgment, you typed in your birthday to unlock his phone. Biting your lip, a sudden surge of anxiety flooding your system, you navigated to his SMS app and opened up his thread with Jade. 

Your stomach soured and your blood turned to ice as you scrolled up, reading the contents of the thread. This couldn’t be possible. He wouldn’t– but yet, there it was, staring you right in the face. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you ran to the bathroom and vomited, this time having nothing to do with your stomach bug and everything to do with your heart breaking. 

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. But no. You read through the thread again and again, and again. There was no mistaking it. You slid down the bathroom wall to the floor, clutching the phone to your chest, but no tears came.

No, instead of falling apart, you felt your walls come back up, going so high that they merged together above you, encasing you in a dome of icy rage. Instead of sadness, you felt resolve. He had lied to your face and played you for a fool. Well, it had been for the last time. There was no coming back from this. Not ever. You’d give him no more chances to betray you. 

You were a fucking fool to have believed his pretty lies, his hollow promises. An idiot for constantly forgiving him, when it was clear, now, that he had never really loved you. Oh, he may have thought he did. But this… what you had just seen evidence of– this was not love. 

With a shaking breath, you stood up. You took screenshots of every incriminating text and sent them to yourself. You needed to move quickly so you were finished before he got back. Running to your computer, you printed out multiple copies of the screenshots then, you meticulously went through your room, collecting everything of Bucky’s that had migrated across the hall from his room to yours over the course of your relationship and crammed it all into a box. 

You found one of his precious knives under the bed, and thought about throwing it out the window, but then an idea struck you. Taking the knife, the box of stuff, and a copy of the screenshots, you opened your door and walked across the hall. You unceremoniously dumped the contents of the box into a heap in front of Bucky’s door, then, using all of your strength, rammed the knife through the wooden door, pinning the screenshots in place. Let him run face-first into the evidence of his betrayal.

Running back into your room, you grabbed your go-bag, tossing some essentials in it. You couldn’t stay in this room, not right now, after everything that had happened last night and this morning. Besides, it would be too easy for him to find you here. You needed to go somewhere where he wouldn’t think to look for you. You didn’t trust yourself right now not to claw his eyes out if you saw him. Though lord knows he would fucking deserve it.

Before you left your room, you called out to FRIDAY. “Lock my door behind me, and under no circumstances are you to let Sergeant Barnes into my room,” you told the AI.

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she responded.

“Oh, and FRIDAY? One more thing,” you added, “if Sergeant Barnes asks where I am, tell him ‘fucking dead to him.”

It was sickening how cheerfully the AI responded to your depressing command, promising that she would deliver the message to him, should he inquire. 

With a final look around, and a cage of ice around your heart, you closed the door to your room, to your love for Bucky, and you didn’t look back.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[threepoint14art]

Well, since you so kindly offered: I want to know about your OCs! Their names, their animals, anything you feel like sharing.

WOHOO THANKS FOR ASKING! IM HONORED IM HONORED! first of all sorry for just posting about my ocs lately I am clearly going through it </3 im gonna put all the long explanations under the cut so I don't clog anyone's feed!

But in a general not that long way: those girls were The salvaged they have a group name because we designed them around the idea of them being rivals to the nightmares! Fun fact, their names apply to the other group better than to themselves! The nightmares just like in source material all got saved or salvaged by Deuz. While the salvaged over here are a nightmare! just generally! In our AU the nightmares 1) are older and 2) Are a bit more dangerous than just school bullies (thought onnie still does that and has beef with literal children lmao), so we decided to give them mortal enemies!

This will include a bit of infodump on the nightmares too since I realized we haven't really explained the changes we made to them, and also trigger warnings for mentions of abuse, though I'll try to not get too into it it's always worth warning

Actual explanation time let's go I'm sorry for word vomiting on you multi I'm so hyped you ask it's unreal thank you so much for asking yet again:

Bébe

She is the redhaired one! she is based on scrap baby! not to be confused with the normal baby animatronic! We made her as a foil to our Deuz. Just like Deuz she is the leader of her group, but unlike Deuz she isn't the "strong, takes all the burdens, looks menacing, defends the others" type of leader, but rather just the one who sort of controls the others, more of a "you wouldn't expect this one to be in charge" sort of leader. Hence the little animation I did with her saying "I know what you want" Gives the others what they want to keep them near her since they are her " strength" her "ammunition" to put it some way. Giant dangerous insanely built bear vs a silly crow who wins She is baby faced (haha word pun) and just generally looks a bit harmless, we made her a crow because we made her main strength being creepy and offputting, inducing paranoia and all that since we already made Deuz generally paranoid, crows can make some WEIRD sounds and copy voices so it felt fitting for her bother people like that. We don't have that much of her backstory figured out just yet, mostly because she feels like a pipebomb to try and make sense of, opposite to Deuz who opened up to the nightmares about most stuff, she is a complete mistery to the salvaged. She is simply creepy, always smiling, keeps people close to her by being an enabler since she doesn't think they'll stick to her and defend her otherwise, she makes Deuz feel incredibly paranoid!

Scarlet

I would have made her name white if that was readable! I'm going by order of how they appear in my little animation, so shes the one with white hair!

She is based on molten freddy, she has a lot of issues. The main thing she wants and needs is just constant appreciation and people near her, the reason why is really horrible we are so mean to her.

Unlike bebe, we have her backstory pretty developed. She was really sick as a child, and her hospital expenses took her parents into debt, her dad was still incredebly understanding and of course mourning his daughter was in so much pain, her mom wasn't like that. She got kinda frenzied by their financial instability and blamed Scarlet for all of it, saying that she wasn't even her real daughter anymore, that the sickness already killed her daugther so that she could just kill the sickness, and tried to literally murder her! Both her parents went to jail because even though her dad literally tried to stop her from dying, the justice system is always horrible and it counted it as assault against his wife. So sickly child in extreme chronic pain feels like no one loves her! She needs that constant reassurance a lot because she's very understandably very traumatized from that.

She parallels Maggie in the most like, mean way I could have conjured up. Scarlet is and always has been ill and in pain and it her family abandoned her because of it, while Maggie in our Au is the biological brother (we trans man beamed him) of Meg, and he abandoned them and ran away because he was tired of the abuse in the system and shitty forster families, but also tired being treated as a full time caretaker who always had to protect Meg. So they kinda parallel eachother in the abandoned and the one who abandons.

She drinks a lot because it numbs the pain she's constantly under, and it also lessens the fact that she's always constantly itchy (why she scratches herself in my animation). And she is a sheep because she was "a lamb to the slaughter" as a little kid! her mom tried to kill her! A sacrificial lamb to rid you of your burdens. Raquel The fact that there was no nightmare chica irked us two a lot so we just made one haha epic. She is a cockatiel! She used to date Onyx (How we call Oxy) but little kids in relationships do stupid shit and she cheated on him which gave him a life-long grudge since he's insane about infidelity (divorced parents, thinks that if they were still together he would still have a home since when he came out as trans he already lived only with his dad and he got kicked out, thinks his mom could have defended him if she didn't cheat and ruin everything, normal stuff)

She is incredebly annoyed by the fact that he hasn't moved on, and honestly I'm annoyed too boy you were both like prepubecent fleas. She also is really quickwitted and subtle given that she pickpockets a lot of people, while Onyx is more hardheaded (haha why hes named onyx, rock) and really blunt since he has 0 need for being subtle.

She got kicked out of her home for just being a hoarder! A kleptomaniac and a hoarder to be exact. Since birds do have that thing where they nest and get a bunch of stuff and put it on a nest we upped it to a thousand here, she just steals stuff and hoards it to the point where it was genuinly unbearable for her parents so off she goes. This also ties with the fact that she's also incredebly money hungry for the sole reason of just having money, seeing a lot of money together scratches her brain. Bebé just straight up enables this girl to keep her unhealthy habits.

Back to parallels, her parents kicked her out for her own good, trying to stop a self destructive habit. While Onyx's dad kicked him out for just being who he is. Similar yet different yada yada

Mar

Ourhghghg I've already posted art of Mar on here before, she is the snake girl (specifically now a hoop snake, she had a nother snake before but we changed it) who is incredebly normal about her mom. If you trusted me on that post I'm sorry but I lied to you shes not normal ever.

Her full name is Marisol, she shortens it to Mar to be cutesy and because her name meaning Sea matches pretty well with Avani's (next to be discussed) name meaning Earth. She is a contrast to Onnie since in here we gave them both really really bad homes. They got physically abused and they both did not come out sane out of that, but while Onnie wishes he killed his dad and takes it out on everything and everyone. Mar actually killed her mom.

Cool fact about Mar, she is related to shadows! But it's not exactly like Freddy and Fred. Summarizing incredebly hard, in our AU shadows are born from empty people, If someone who is just fundamentally empty as a person walks too close to a place where people have felt a lot, were their feelings overflew out of them, they get a shadow. Freddy has fred because the little guy was just fundamentally empty as a kid (every "freddy is bland" joke ever now has real consequences/j), But Mar is a bit different, since she is the shadow.

Think of Freddy having no personality (/j) and up it to a thousand, thats what the "original" marisol was like, literal empty kid who would not cry or scream or yell and it pissed her mom off to no end, till boom, Mar appears. Since they aren't omniscent and they too don't really understand what shadows are, Mar thinks she is the orignal, and the remainder of the other girl got renamed as lake (haha matching, bodies of water), who unlike fred or freddy, who while not in the body are people shaped, is presented as just a snake.

(if you want to ask about the shadows give us 5 business days since we are still establishing how it works/lh)

So basically, Mar was a really lonely kid thanks to alcoholic mother who was inhumane towards her, she had 2 friends for most of her life. The snake she imagined who she thought was literally just the ghost of a snake who died by the road or something, and Avani, childhood friend who was her neighbour, she is insanely attached to her.

She just like Onnie suffered a LOT because of her home situation, but unlike Onnie she at least did have moments of peace at school and with Avani (Onnie was also brutally bullied at school, woups, guy got no break ever). She kept growing up time kept passing things at home were exactly the same. She met Bébe she met the salvaged and she just started doing crazy stuff simply because "it made her happy" she had an outlet and it helped her. Sadly, things at home out of nowhere aren't the same miserable mess but just somehow turn worse and worse and worse, probably because it was obvious that she was much happier with being more and more away from home and hanging out with people. Eventually she just had enough, and with the help of insane people over here (mostly Bébe) they make a plot to literally murder the woman.

Basically, since she was an alocholic and never tended to the house ever, they just turn the stove on and close all the house down and so she dies of monoxide poisoning and they pass it off as her being negligent and leaving it on on her own.

Literally as that's happening, Mar goes to her school councelor and does some fake tears of feeling like a danger to herself to get send to a psych ward, which doesn't surprise the councelor since it was pretty obvious her home life was awful and that she's a little gone since she talks to the air sometimes, she eventually gets back from it, gets the news that she passed away, does some more fake tears, and boom, surprisingly easy. Onnie wishes he could do that.

Due to her mom dying and being sent away for a little and all of that she missed wayy too many clases and got held back a year, then they tested her to see her academic level and see that she was doing even worse than they thought so she's held back another year, and boom this derranged 18 year old is in a clasroom with the 16 year olds, she scares me. She is based on nightmare marionette which is why we wanted to give her something shadow related, and also why she has scales on her face that sort of form a tear pattern!

Avan

I'll admit. I was incredebly self indulgent with her. She's based on nightmare balloon boy, but I used Loon as reference (quien lo invitó? pinche chamaco), since our version of loon is a holed up guy who just sort of rots away in his room and doesn't intend on being a functional part of society. Avani is a prodigy who graduated way too early and is already both studying and working, literally never spends time home and is always busy.

We also made her an asian ladybeetle since they are often regarded as the "evil" counterpart of a ladybug!

That's her basis, and now for parallels, I also have to explain how I was incredebly self indulgent here: She's meant to be a parallel for Spring "but spring isn't a nightmare" I know, and she also isn't a salvaged. We made spring and the nightmares friends (insane decision I know), and so both Spring and Avani interact with their respective group out of just being friends with them instead of actually being part of the group who does insane things. Spring works at a gas station and never finished his education and doesn't feel ready to be an adult at alli(we made him 24 woups), while avani has an office job and reads like a fully functional adult (she isn't) while being incredebly young.

Like was said before she is Mar's childhood friend, And she is a prodigy in all sense of the word, she too was an incredebly lonely child and only ever got along with Mar, She was always said to be too boring and somewhat creepy for remembering seemingly inconsequent stuff. She has an insane memory and an insane brain in general, her parents realized that and just fully commited to pressuring her to do better and better and better, "Pressure makes diamonds" after all. So while at first they were in the same class, Avani kept skipping grades because she was incredebly gifted academically. She still kept contact with Mar of course since both of them are horribly attached to eachother (in the animation they have matchin jewerly! Mar with the necklace and Avani with the earrings), but she literally graduated at 14, that's crazy, girl should have been watching mlp or something.

As she grew she kinda thought about herself as only that, only a prodigy only the smart one that needs to keep getting smarter and needs to be a functional adult already since if she's not its just "a waste". Her parents also didn't help with that, treating her as if she was 100% self sufficient when she was a literal kid. And as soon as she turned 18 she got kicked out to be a full fledged adult.

She got an office job and also is studying MEDICINE and also keeps active contact with a friend. "how does she have time for that" she literally doesn't, This woman is sort of a walking zombie, her being labeled a "genius" made her think she should just shoulder ten billion things at once.

Anyways the day that Mar was getting out of being in the psych ward and already was angsty and nervous she went to visit Avani at her job to calm down a little. Woupsies! Boss is a creep! Woupsies Mar just launches herself at him and beats him up and now this girl is jobless. Awesome.

She has a bit of a crisis because without a job she can't pay for her apartment and she has nowhere to stay and Mar just tells her to go stay with them, which the others don't necesarely agree with but also can't outright refuse since they are very well aware of how important this girl is to Mar.

Basically, "functional" adult stays with insane people, and none of the others understand her. A girl who should 100% have some sense of moral superiority against them just seems way to out of mark with what they expected, she's sort of way too chill with they stuff they do, seems way too nonchallant about Mar literally killing her mom, seems way too bored of everything and only ever thinks of work and studying and work and studying and Mar, it doesn't seem like she literally has any other desire than work like an animal till the end of her days. They can't figure her out! Hence the question marks in the animation! That's,,, that's all I have. Multi if you read all of this you literally deserve like an award, tysm for asking again <3 ^^ I promise I'll do more stuff with actual canon characters soon, I just had a moment ToT, if you (or anyone else who read this) Have any other doubts about them or anyone at all always feel so free to ask!!

[zeawesomebirdie]

hi !!!! did NOT consider you might like to have the ask again to answer it. if you do:

seeing you post about your old west au is motivating me to at least draft my stuff out for my fic, too!!! so, firstly: good god thank you. secondly, what kind of drafting process do you normally go through? you don't have to answer this but everyone i know is pretty particular about how they write so i'm always curious!!!

Gosh okay I'm still so embarrassed about accidentally posting this before it was ready!! Lesson learned: only work on long posts on desktop (very affectionate). I'm going to copy paste what I had originally said, but there will be added stuff because it wasn't anywhere near ready to go (if you thought it was long before, honey you ain't seen nothing yet!)

Also I still am so proud of you for working on your fic, we are writing buddies now hand in lovable hand I love you thank you for enabling my rambling <33

Buckle in, here we go!

SO! My drafting process is always a moving target. I do what works best for the work in question, and things change depending on my energy and fatigue levels plus my motivation and interest levels

So that said, right now my process usually looks like:

ramble at someone in DMs, copy and paste rambles into a google doc for safekeeping and marinating

zero draft, aka word vomit until a plot forms, block out actions and the occasional dialog, determine chapter and story arcs

first draft, aka Where The Real Writing Happens

optional second draft, but only if the fic is under 10k

line edits

post :)

find a bunch of typos that I somehow missed during line editing, fix those before anyone notices

I will be showing examples because this is a bit hard to explain and Extremely Intense to a lot of people, and yeah that's because it is! I approach writing fanfic the same way I approach writing original fiction, and I find it works best for me as a plotter

If you are metaphorically inclined and familiar with oil painting: I write the way an oil painter paints. First I block in the big shapes, the gestures, and the colours. Then I come back in subsequent drafts and increase the detail until I'm done!

Further information and actual examples of my drafts will be below the cut, because this is gonna be super long and I love talking shop ^.^

And general content warning for non-graphic violence and graphic smut (and shitty early drafts); the examples are from Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson fics

So before we get into the zero draft, I want to point out two things: first, I do full rewrites. This is why writing takes me one million years. I retype each and every word in each and every draft. Second, I'm actually trying something new with the Old West!AU, for reasons I will explain in a moment!

I started doing full rewrites in 2019 after a college writing course, in which we read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott; she encourages the reader to embrace the shitty first draft. I ended up really benefiting from a zero draft too, something I first learned about in 2020 from someone on authortube who I no longer remember the name of. The zero draft is essentially a pre-draft, in which one gets the gist of the story out of their system before the prose clogs up the spigot

For me, zero drafts are something that need to be finished as fast as possible in order to get done at all, so due to the sheer length of the Old West!AU, I'm trying out writing little bullet points instead of my full zero drafting. Right now this fic is at 27 chapters, and this is part 1 of 3 total. I will be going back and filling in the actual blocking once I have all the scenes roughly accounted for

Context for the Old West!AU: Bruce is the Bat, a vigilante gunman who only kills when he needs to but still has the fastest draw on this side of the Mississippi. Now that he's taken care of the man who killed his parents, he's returned home to his Uncle Alfred and gone straight, meaning that he's hung up his guns and gone back to homesteading the family land. He adopts Dick and then a year later Jason as well, when small burglaries start happening in town, so he takes the Bat out of retirement and goes to investigate.

My bullet points started out like this:

Open on comparison between Bruce's first gun and the Bat's guns. Introduce Joe Chill, general drunkard. The Bat calls out Chill, shootout, Chill is killed. Chill drew first. Moment of reflection between Bruce's first gunfight at 15 to this one, at 21. Bruce goes home.

And that's the whole entire first chapter!

However, now they look more like:

The Sheriff runs up and shoots at him. The Bat has him disarmed with his own gun barrel to his throat in an instant. It doesn't take the Bat much time to get info out of him either. The burglar is only going after small change, not enough to be noticeable. That rules out the gambler, easily. The Sheriff can't do shit about it, because no one is willing to start an investigation for such small change. The Bat shoves the Sheriff to his knees and is gone before he notices. Alfred is waiting for him when he gets home, and asks. Bruce tries to deny it, but the clothes are in his hands and he can't. So he sighs and says he may have made a promise, but… there might be more to this than there seems, okay? He just… has a bad feeling about it. Alfred can't accept this, what about his sons? Bruce can't take this, and tells him he doesn't have to. Their yelling wakes up Dick and Jason, who stand in the doorway to their bedroom and look on with the door mostly closed.

Eventually both Alfred and Bruce yell each other out, and they sit down for coffee as dawn breaks. Bruce breaks the silence first, saying Alfred is right. Alfred tells him he understands. Bruce decides to let the Bat go for real now.

This is about half of the chapter, and closer to the blocking I normally do in zero drafts

So far this pre-zero draft seems to be working, given I've already finished part 1, but I also can't wait to come back and do the blocking in because that's when the fic really starts to take shape!

Usually though, I just start with a zero draft. I'm going to show you two different fics for the zero draft examples, because they were done differently, and like I said at the beginning, I try to adjust my process based on what is called for by what I'm writing

This first is from the fic I'm writing for @ful-crum. It's a 5+1, in which it is five times Dick fucks Bruce to distract him from discussing his emotions plus one time they actually discuss their emotions and then fuck about it.

Tim and Jason turn up an hour later, and they're incredibly concerned. Dick waves them off. Tim takes him at his word and heads to bed (he has a meeting with Wayne Tech at 8am tomorrow, ugh), but Jason sits down next to the bed and asks Dick what he thinks Bruce is going to say. Dick tells him he's not sure, I mean, it's B, y'know? Jason just nods, and they lapse into silence. Then Steph and Cass come in, and Bruce is most noticeably not present. Cass signs something about bed, and Steph tells Dick that she's worried about Bruce, to which Jason snorts and says they all are, but she insists that Dick talk to him. Dick doesn't even need to take more than a moment to decide that won't be happening. But Steph goes to bed, and it's nearly 04:00 when Jason heads up too, saying he'd love to help Dick lecture Bruce about staying out late but he's got stuff to do tomorrow. Dick asks if he wants to know what stuff, and Jason gives him a smirk and says ask him no questions and he'll tell him no lies. Dick can live with that.

As you can see, this is just general staging directions and vibes

This second example was supposed to be for BruDick Week 2024, but I accidentally got carried away and ended up deciding to write a longfic for it instead. The prompt was "brudick meet their AU!selves," so I did 66!brudick meets the Gotham Rogues Polycule, an AU in which Bruce, Dick, and Clark are in a very elaborate polycule with half of Gotham's villains.

Batman and Robin were on a normal mission in the middle of the day, on the trail of Catwoman, who's been stealing from the Gotham Museum of Art again. One moment they were walking into the museum, the next they were in a weird swirl of energy. Robin clings to Batman and asks what's going on, and Batman tells him steady Robin, we just have to stay calm and see what happens. The energy clears as someone calls out “incoming! Clear the floor!” and they find themselves in what is clearly the Cave, except it's even more high tech than anything they've ever seen. There's three people in suits like theirs standing in front of a massive screen, and Robin identifies the Riddler immediately, even if he doesn't recognise the other two. Before Batman can stop him, he charges the Riddler, who jumps behind the man in black and blue with a laugh. Batman does call out for him to stop, but he ignores him. The man in black and blue meets his every move, almost like he's fighting himself, and he calls out to the man in red and blue “a little help here, Supes?”

The biggest difference here is how drastically these fics changed from their zero draft to the first draft rendition, and that is entirely because of how fleshed out they ended up being (or not being, lol)

When I zero drafted the 5+1, it was with the intention of that specific part simply being a chapter, whereas my original zero draft of the 66! meeting the polycule! fic was actually intended to be a two shot at most. I unfortunately lost control of the plot during the first draft of that one, and it spiraled into a longfic, which will become more clear in a bit!

Basically though, the goal of the zero draft is to know who's where and why at all times! With longfics, there is often a restructuring that happens after the zero draft is written, where I move scenes and sometimes whole chapters to their best locations. This is where I make the most use out of a beta! Pacing is a big struggle for me and it is easier to fix at this stage, before I have all the prose and have become attached to what I've written

Next up is the first draft, and this is a whole new document. This is where I write The Actual Words. This is more or less the final version of the fic, for longfics, give or take a few paragraphs and a shit ton of line edits. Having said that though, I write in fits and bursts, because y'know disabled and stuff. So I write a paragraph or two at a time, and I am constantly adding and subtracting words and lines and sometimes whole paragraphs while I am actively working on a chapter

I'm going to show the first draft versions of both of the above fics, and due to the length these will be extremely excerpted but they should serve as examples regardless. Generally speaking, my zero drafts are about 1/3 of the length of my finished fics, however the 5+1 is currently proving to be an exception so that number may not be super accurate

First, the 5+1:

“You did take care of them, right?” Dick asked, groaning when Jason’s mouth thinned as he looked away. “Is Steph at least still with him?” “Last I heard, they were—” Jason started, cutting himself off when the Cave’s alarm signaled the arrival of newcomers. A moment later, two muddy bikes roared into the garage, leaving dark tracks behind them as they parked haphazardly together on the far side of the garage. With the return of Black Bat and Spoiler, the only empty place on the garage floor now belonged to Batman himself. Dick tried to catch Jason’s eyes as they waited in the med bay for Cass and Steph to strip off their suits and join them, but Jason turned away from him, though he didn’t rise from the bed. Something must have gone down after he’d fallen unconscious, Dick was sure of it. Why else would Bruce have sent everyone else home early on a patrol night? He could already see it in his mind’s eye, Batman doing God-knew-what out in Gotham alone, Bruce coming home with a busted lip that Dick would have to personally clean up before they went to bed, how that lip would scab over and feel under his tongue when he kissed Bruce the next morning after waking up in their bed—Bruce’s bed—on accident. How that scab would stretch when the ghost of a smile caught Bruce by surprise after one of Dick’s terrible puns. “You okay?” Steph called across the Cave as she and Cass walked toward the med bay. “Never been better,” Dick replied, trying not to be put out at Jason’s eye roll. He put up a hand for Cass to inspect when she came up to his bedside, and after she had nodded her satisfaction of his health he smiled. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

And the 66! meets polycule! fic:

“You!” Robin shouted, not waiting for Batman to back him up as he charged toward the Riddler. Riddler didn't move—in fact, none of the three moved—then Robin was on him, punching his face hard enough to hear a distinct crack. That startled all three into action, Riddler swearing up a storm before throwing himself behind the blue masked man, who blocked Robin's next hits without hesitation. “Robin!” Batman called from somewhere behind him, but Robin ignored him, focusing his energy on striking past the masked man's defenses to get at Riddler. “I know you're behind this, you– you scum!” Robin snarled in Riddler's direction, placing a perfectly timed jab toward the masked man's left cheek and then feinting to the right. But the man met him easily, as though they were merely sparring. “I'm not who you think I am!” Riddler exclaimed, his hands cupping his face but doing little to staunch the blood streaming from his nose. “Let's slow down for a minute, okay?” the masked man said, his voice maddeningly level as if Robin wasn't trying every trick he knew to get past him. “We can explain.” “Yeah kid, there's a good explanation here, we promise,” Riddler added. Robin growled and spun around the  masked man's reach only to find him once again directly blocking him from Riddler. How in the dickens did he know exactly where Robin was going to strike before Robin himself knew? And why on earth was he protecting the Riddler? “Supes, we could use a hand here,” the masked man said, still obnoxiously calm, once again blocking Robin's fist and this time circling his hand around Robin's wrist to twist his arm behind his back. In a blink, Robin was lifted into the air by his collar, the blue and red suited man holding him at arm's length. Robin continued to struggle for a moment, but finally Batman came into view, frowning up at him. Seeing Batman's disapproval took every bit of wind from Robin's sails, and he deflated instantly. If Batman didn't think he needed to fight, then he probably didn't need to.

So as you can see, I just kinda fill in the details with each draft!

Which is where we come to the optional second draft. I try, I really do try, to do a full second draft of everything I write. I always am glad to have done one, once it's done. The problem is, I really do have very limited energy, and anything longer than a chapter or two just doesn't get finished if I try to give it a full second draft. I've instead been doing really vigorous line edits, which I don't have an examples of because those are done in the same document as the first draft!

Now, you're probably wondering why on earth I gave a smut content warning at the beginning of this post. WELL.

I am calling myself out as a newbie when it comes to the art of smut writing. My 5+1 fic, the one where literally every single part has extremely explicit smut, has the following in the zero draft:

Yes, that is not one, not two, but three "cue smuts." Clearly I was new at this (affectionate)

Shout out to past!me for this in the last part though, because at least it actually has some semblance of blocking even if it is still extremely lacking:

The kissing escalates (as it often does) to smut over the desk (though Dick does try to move the documents out of the way, even if Bruce is growling at him to leave it alone; he doesn't want to be the reason Tim has another caffeine-induced breakdown).

I didn't figure this out until I was actually writing this fic, but it turns out I not only need to block in regular action scenes, I also need to block in the smut, because otherwise I will be sitting there having no fucking clue what to write (very affectionate)

So I now present what a zero draft of smut looks like! This is from a 5+1 in which there are five times Bruce and Dick fuck because of Poison Ivy's sex pollen and it "doesn't mean anything," plus one time they fuck because they actually want to:

Dick asks if they can take off their suits, it's too hot he's too hot, and Bruce says okay, that's a good idea, and internally he's panicking because oh no. Oh no. But the moment the words are out he sees the relief in Dick's face, and realises Dick needs to be told what to do right now, so he tells him clearly to strip, it'll help. Once Dick is fully naked in the other seat, he turns to Bruce and asks if he needs help with his armor. His hand is tentatively, almost shyly stroking his cock, and Bruce is really struggling to not watch. He tells him no, he doesn't, and takes off the chest plate and arm armor, but leaves what's left of his leg armor on. He decides he can safely put his hand under his boxers, but Dick makes a little noise, and when he looks over he can clearly see Dick watching him stroke himself. Oh fuck. He's cumming before he even realises it, his boxers getting wet and sticky and his cock still so maddeningly hard and he strokes himself through it, unable to stop himself from moaning even as he tries to keep himself in a clinical mindset. Dick asks to see him, and Bruce, despite knowing what a bad, horrible idea this is, pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock. Dick shifts his hand on his own cock to mimic what Bruce is doing, and Bruce has the horrible realisation that he doesn't even really know how to jerk himself off. Dear God, hopefully Alfred stays the fuck out of the Cave tonight.

So it's really just more of the same general blocking directions and vibes!

Another thing of note for zero drafts, I try to use as few words as possible to get what I need across. These are only ever intended to be seen by myself and a beta, assuming anyone else besides me even sees them at all, so I use slang and shorthand and leave notes for myself in the text itself

This can be a bit weird for when I show it to betas (or anyone else, for that matter!) because there are some fics where the tone or the vocabulary in the zero is incredibly modern despite the fic being in a historical or pre-modern setting!

And I have yet to actually write the first draft of that one, so I'm going to give you the first draft of the "Cue more smut (but this time against the batmobile 😌)" scene so that you can see the difference between the blocking and an Actual Scene:

Bruce had turned his back to him, bracing himself against the batmobile, and Dick took hold of Bruce's hip to hold him steady when he slid a finger into his hole. A soft moan was all he got in verbal response, but Bruce pushed against Dick's finger despite Dick's best efforts to do this slowly. Chuckling under his breath, Dick slid in a second finger, relishing in the clench of Bruce's muscle as he began working him open. “Easy, B,” he said softly, leaning over him enough to move his hand from Bruce's hip to his cock. Bruce growled and arched into his touch, taking in Dick's fingers completely. “Someone's in a rush tonight, huh?” He didn't get a verbal response, not that he ever did. Bruce rarely spoke while full, relying instead on nonverbal communication to indicate his needs. It hadn't taken long for Dick to become acquainted with his movements back when they started this; after all, fucking was no different from fighting, not for them, not when they had flown side by side across Gotham for more than half of Dick's life. And Dick knew Bruce would always try to get him to rush just a little, knew he'd give in like he always did, wanting to have his cock inside Bruce as soon as physically possible just as much as Bruce did. He wasted no more time, sliding his fingers out and releasing Bruce's cock just long enough to slick up his own. The small whine from Bruce at the loss of contact ought to be ignored, ought not be acknowledged, and Dick knew that, but he couldn't resist leaning over to kiss the small of Bruce's back. Bruce huffed at him, glaring over his shoulder. Dick met his eyes with a grin. Then Dick gripped Bruce's hip again, holding him steady while Bruce leaned back to meet him, and slipped into his tight heat. There was a soft moan from Bruce the moment he bottomed out; Dick leaned forward again to kiss up his spine, keeping his cock buried deep even while Bruce began to rock back into him.

I do think the fic for @ful-crum would be easier if I had proper blocking for the smut, but also I do love a good challenge and you live and you learn, so I'm not super invested in going back and blocking in the smut at this point in time!

And honestly, once the line edits are done that's pretty much it!

I keep a little "posting info" doc for each and every fic I write, to which I add tags as I come to them in writing, so that I don't have to think about what needs to be tagged at the end after I've already forgotten what I've written. That has saved my butt so many times ngl, especially for longfics!

But really what keeps me from posting more often, despite how much I write, is that I fully finish fics before I post them, even if I'm posting them on a weekly or whatever basis. This is mostly because I can't guarantee when I'll need to randomly take several months off of writing, and I don't want to leave anything unfinished, but also because I don't want to actually end up leaving something unfinished for a few years until I cycle back into the fandom

And that's it!! Thanks for tuning in to this little master class :) If I can clarify anything please let me know; I tried to explain everything that I thought needed it but I can never tell what others will need more clarification on!!

And also, thanks again for asking this!! I don't know many people who do full drafts, or even many people who don't completely pants everything they write, and so I'm always excited to discuss my process!! I also am a firm believer in "take what helps and leave the rest," so if you find something in my process that sounds like something you'd like to do, give it a whirl!! I think it's super important to share the different kinds of processes there can be for writing, because everyone really writes so differently, you know?

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoyed my shitty early drafts (very affectionate)!!

[womaninwinter]

For From the Cutting Room Floor and In My Father’s Words: 6, 11, 12, 19, 26 🥰

yay thank you for enabling me in my hour of need!!

6. What do you need to write? Is there anything special you need to do/have to help your creative flow?

Uh, a community it turns out. I got the idea for Cutting Room Floor because there was this fan theory floating around about "what if Lucy and Lockwood were secretly actually in a relationship and Lucy just doesn't mention it because she's being private" and I went to sleep with the idea revolving in my head and woke up with the fic more or less fully formed. Then I spent about a whole day vomiting it onto a page when I should have been working. Oops? In My Father's Words came about because @synestheticwanderings came into the Cutting Room Floor comments and said she wanted Lockwood's side of the story, so yeah, it seems I really need input from others to write.

11. Was there a scene that you hadn't originally planned to include? Why did you decide to fit it in?

Listen I planned nothing with either of these fics. Cutting Room Floor wrote itself and possessed me, Father's Words has been entirely seat-of-my-pants writing. One scene that did come as a surprise to me was the confession scene of Father's Words. It was never meant to be a Catholic Lockwood™ fic, but it ended up being the only way I could write myself out of the hole I'd dug in previous chapters.

12. Was there a scene you wished you could have included? Why didn't it fit in?

I do occasionally think about what might have happened if Lucy had expressed some definite sign of interest in Lockwood beyond the physical in Cutting Room Floor. That fic is very much based around a silly miscommunication trope, and if she'd had the nerve to initiate at any point, the fic would have gone differently. So I do sometimes think about doing a Cutting Room Floor alternate ending where they actually communicate, but I have too many WIPs to take that on.

19. Is this one of your personal favorite fics? Why or why not?

It used to be, but looking back, I kinda wince at how clumsy some of the writing is. I do however think that Cutting Room Floor has one of the best openings I've ever written, and I will quote it here for reasons of vanity:

Reader, there is a part I didn’t tell you – you’ll see why. It goes like this: picture me, about a week after the Bickerstaff case, lying in my attic room, listening to the rain on the roof. My expression was somewhat shell-shocked, my fingers pressed to my lips. No, that’s a bit too late. Let’s go back another twenty minutes or so. I was just waking up, feeling stiff and achy still from all our exertions, when Lockwood knocked on my door.

I absolutely adore when the narrator addresses the reader directly so I will always be terribly proud of this.

26. Wild Card! I'll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

I don't know if it counts as fun exactly, but the day I wrote and published From the Cutting Room Floor (July 28th) was my longest Spotify listening day of 2023. As a result, I know almost exactly how long it took me to write it (~8 hours). Another fun fact that probably only I think is fun is that the fic was originally sexier, but I didn't like it, so I cut the "steamier" descriptions (and I think the fic is stronger for it. I think romantic scenes are way stronger when you focus on the characters' reactions and emotional experiences rather than physical mechanics).

Behind-the-scenes fic asks.