#while writing

[pellucid-constellations]

Hi I miss you all 🫶 I want to answer all of my asks and I want to write sooo so bad I've been feeling that creative itch again I just need a sec <3 I think it would help to know what everyone would like for me to write first so let me know what series/new oneshot/whatever it is you have been hoping for :)

Sorry I died for a sec love you

[lulablogss]

a glimpse of us.

angst; katsuki bakugou x gn reader

listen to “Glimpse of Us” by Joji as you read!!

when you’re looking into his eyes they’re clouded. clouded with regret and sorrow. when he holds you it feels as if you’re just a placeholder. he gets more distant as the days pass. he lays in bed at night questioning his current position. yes, you’re so perfect together but why does he still wish it was her?

though he finds it difficult to focus as you softly snore into his side. he looks down at you. admiring your soft features.

similar to hers; but just not enough.

he feels conflicted. his heart longs for her all while yours search for his. he certainly loves you, but he’s just not inlove. his heart still belongs to her - after all this time.

he tries to fall for your touch but he can only think about the way that it was, the way it was with her.

he had finally changed like she pleaded, like she begged him to. so yeah, he’s a different guy now - he just wishes she would’ve had stayed to see. he wishes it was her he was perfect for. he wishes she would’ve forgiven him one more time.

he can’t blame anyone but himself. so he passes time in your embrace. returning the sentiments and solace.

you’ve been with katsuki for a while now. meaning you’ve grown accustomed to his mannerisms.

you notice he’s not one for long eye contact, especially when it comes to him being sunk deep into you. you notice how he prefers when your head is pushed deep into the pillow as he fucks into you from behind. you notice how he prefers reverse cowgirl when you ride.

you notice how he wants it completely dark and how he tells you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” while slapping a hand over your mouth when you talk. only satisfied with ambiguous moans.

you brush it off though. ignorance is bliss they say. even though dating katsuki was just short of it, the coldness sometimes palpable. like a loyal dog you crave his attention and validation.

his patrols become longer, his responses become shorter. til they stop altogether.

you wake up once again to an empty bed, but today something is different. it’s not only the bed that feels empty anymore.

you check the time, and see a message from katsuki:

“Good morning y/n. I really wish you the best, I care about you but I just can’t bring myself to be inlove with you. Sometimes when I look in your eyes I seem to find glimpses of her. It’s not your fault but I can’t ignore it anymore. I know I said I moved on but I can’t. And i don’t want to hurt anymore or hurt you. Please don’t contact me again.”

“Take care.”

So now it hurts just a little more when he tells the press he’s single, more than it did before.

[ehlnofay]

I Walked Into The River

The Tree of Shades, fed by a spring deep in the Shivering Isles' underground, will not surrender its secrets to one who has not earned them. The erstwhile Hero of Kvatch and Sheogorath's current grudging Champion has little left to prove and even less to lose.

I wrote this piece for the summerfest prompt "mirror" and am posting the full thing for the free day! it's my take on the doppelganger bit of that one quest in the shivering isles, which always struck me as having a lot of unrealised potential (especially in conjunction with running themes of duality the questline already has). I've had this idea for a long time now and this event finally got me to actually write it out, which was a lot of fun! if you're inclined to check it out, please do - it would give me much joy :)

[late-to-the-fandom]

[anewstartrekfan]

Spitballing Strange New Worlds s3 episode ideas, Spock edition:

(With Sam Kirk crashing the blog at the end)

Keep in mind I’ve only seen s2.

Assuming Christine is written out of the show for a little bit so the Doctor Korby romance can happen, maybe explain just how Spock was able to know that Rayna was going to die from being overwhelmed with emotions she was just experiencing for the first time in requiem for methuselah? I mean I assumed he was speaking from personal experience when I first saw it, but it could also be him diagnosing the situation based on what he was taught as a Vulcan.

So far strange new worlds (and from what I’ve heard Discovery too) has gone out of its way to show how Spock ended up in the mindset he was in about emotions and stuff. I think it would be cool if Spock either met someone else, or the events of episode 10 rekindle the Spock/Christine romance, Spock feels something entirely new, and then immediately regrets it when Chapel reveals she’s either engaged, in love with Korby, both, or some bad stuff dies down between him and whoever else he meets. This hypothetical relationship with a random alien doesn’t even have to be romantic.

Let’s say Spock gets caught on an alien world, meets a native, is stuck with them for a bit, and then in a life or death situation, the alien chooses to save Spock when we’d know that before meeting Spock, this character wouldn’t have done this, and somehow dies as a result. I’m thinking poison. Which would play into not only Spock’s actions in Requiem for Methuselah, but also Devil in the Dark. Wherein Spock at first wanted to try to reason with the Horta, but the second Jim was in danger he did a 180. It’s not that Spock would be against nonhuman entities learning human emotions. It’s that he would be far more cautious than Jim was.

“The joys of love made her human, and the agonies of love destroyed her.”

And while Spock is solidifying his stance to be more closed off, Other characters, Pike maybe? could finally open up to their friends. Maybe add some character development for Sam to explain why he’s so competitive with Kirk. Make it beyond daddy issues. Maybe make it mommy issues?

Oooo! I’ve suggested before that Jim and Sam’s mom maybe died on Tarsus IV. Maybe the reason Sam didn’t go on the command track like Jim was that becoming a xenoanthropologist would allow him to understand dead alien cultures discovered on various planets the federation may wish to occupy, or know how to communicate with living natives. And this would allow settlers/colonists to be warned about the local widelife like say, an exotic fungus that infects most of the food supply?

I work Tarsus IV into everything.

Since (in this hypothetical plot line) maybe there were native aliens to Tarsus iv, but because no one could communicate with them or even tried, the colonists weren’t able to be warned about the fungus. It would also be cool because of how it would naturally contrast Jim’s reaction to the massacre.

Jim wanted to be there when the disasters happened to save everyone.

Sam wanted to prevent the disasters from happening to save everyone.

Fun to spitball.

[spaceprincessleia]

Officially moved from my “I can’t write conversations” era to my “I always have to write the convo first” era

They’re good for structure

Also kind of makes me want to write a script one day, like the Aphra script

[cloudwhisper23]

Okay. So.

I'm in that writing rut (you probably know the one. and if you draw instead, you also probably know. actually, all art creators probably know exactly what I'm talking about here) that makes me feel like everything I've ever written is completely worthless. Do I believe this? No. I have evidence otherwise.

My issue (not that I'm blaming anybody here, I know we all have our own lives) is that I don't feel like I'm reaching people. I have one interactive reader, and I'm not entirely sure if he counts because he's my boyfriend. Some of my mutuals are reading my writing, but again, it's starting to feel very superficial because they're my mutuals. Of course they're saying nice things about my writing. They're mutuals.

There... just seems to be a disconnect. I don't have readers, or at least, I don't have vocal readers. Anon is turned on for a reason, but nobody wants to talk to me about my writing, aside from the aforementioned people. No asks, no comments, nothing. Maybe you're sick of hearing me say that I don't put much stock in likes (similar to other users on this site) but honestly, that's the truth of it. What's a like to someone who feels inadequate in their writing? To me, the answer is nothing. A like doesn't say much.

Sure, it says "Hey, this was cool." Does is say anything else? Not really. Does it tell me that you want to see more? No. Of course not. Let's say it's a series of chapters and books on Ao3 not getting any indication that people actually want to see it through to the end. What does that mean? The author probably will move on to other things, regardless of the pressure to actually bother finishing something through to the end. That was my goal, but it's starting to crumple. And if people don't care about my writing, then I'm going to stop posting it. The ask-box one-shots have been giving me more energy to write than anything else. Heck, I might just focus on turning some of those into proper stories. I certainly have ideas for how I could. I probably should, quite frankly. I've got time before my current readers even reach the end of what I've write (looking at you, Discord). And they may be disappointed that I didn't give them what I've been talking about forever (which if I listed here would be spoilers, not that you seem to care), but I can still write those excerpts, even though the story is frozen.

You just won't get to see them anymore. And you probably won't care. So I may even deactivate @thereareothersfnaf if this goes long enough. Which it might.

[snowstories]

My biggest tip for fanfic writers is this: if you get a character's mannerisms and speech pattern down, you can make them do pretty much whatever you want and it'll feel in character.

Logic: Characters, just like real people, are mallable. There is typically very little that's so truly, heinously out of character that you absolutely cannot make it work under any circumstance. In addition, most fans are also willing to accept characterization stretches if it makes the fic work. Yeah, we all know the villain and the hero wouldn't cuddle for warmth in canon. But if they did do that, how would they do it?

What counts is often not so much 'would the character do this?' and more 'if the character did do this, how would they do it?' If you get 'how' part right, your readers will probably be willing to buy the rest, because it will still feel like their favourite character. But if it doesn't feel like the character anymore, why are they even reading the fic?

Worry less about whether a character would do something, and more about how they'd sound while doing it.

[pellucid-constellations]

Guys this next part of Fable is going to be SO long I'm only like 1/4 of the way through all that I want to happen and I'm already at 2k words I hope you're ready to READ

[technovillain]

crown jewel/stained glass jello cakes are like beautiful angels to me. it's fruity and delicious. it's retro kitsch. it's an edible example of midcentury minimalist art in every cross section.

i understand the 50s housewife appeal here. if i rolled up to the potluck with a fugly cobbler and my neighbor brought one of these i may have to end my stupid sloppy fruit life.

[noperopesaredope]

I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.

Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.

[words-and-coffee]

Alice Te Punga Somerville, Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised - Kupu rere kē

[ID: A poem titled: Kupu rere kē. [in italics] My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems. This advice came from a well-meaning woman with NZ poetry on her business card and an English accent in her mouth. I have been thinking about this advice. The convention of italicising words from other languages clarifies that some words are imported: it ensures readers can tell the difference between a foreign language and the language of home. I have been thinking about this advice. Marking the foreign words is also a kindness: every potential reader is reassured that although you're expected to understand the rest of the text, it's fine to consult a dictionary or native speaker for help with the italics. I have been thinking about this advice. Because I am a contrary person, at first I was outraged — but after a while I could see she had a point: when the foreign words are camouflaged in plain type you can forget how they came to be there, out of place, in the first place. I have been thinking about this advice and I have decided to follow it. Now all of my readers will be able to remember which words truly belong in -[end italics]- Aotearoa -[italics]- and which do not.

Next image is the futurama meme: to shreds you say...]

(Image ID by @bisexualshakespeare)

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[simonbrain]

going to town on yourself after a long, gruelling week of work, legs spread and your face all fucked out as the vibrator between your legs buzzes deliciously against your clit. you were using the sheets to cover yourself, but they're all soaked; oh well, it's getting stuffy anyway. best to kick them off to avoid overheating.

you're so caught up in chasing your fourth orgasm that you don't realise in the fat ass window that grants you a beautiful view of the city are two men standing on top of a suspended platform, looking right at you. the one with the mohawk gawks, his mouth hanging open, maybe even a little bit of drool seeping down as he eyes the mess between your thighs. the bigger one wearing the black disposable mask sucks in a breath, his jaw clenched as he catches sight of your pretty pink tongue sticking out of your mouth.

your glossy eyes blink open; you're so fucking close. all it takes is your focus darting over to the window where those men are intruding on your privacy, and suddenly you're squirting, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you experience the most intense orgasm in your life.

(the two window washers are still staring at you when you take a peek at them, unmoving. their intense gazes manage to snap you out of your daze, and you feel around for the remote to roll down your electric blinds before you hide your face in a pillow, your stomach still fluttering.

good luck trying to go outside to run your errands later on; you don't even make it into your car before you're cornered by the same two creeps in the car park.

maybe you should have closed the blinds before you started. oops.)

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad, 18+ mdni! 

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

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

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[yeehawpim]