#i think I’ve had this wip for a year or so oh my god

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Guilt

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

Part 2

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: This has been a WIP for years! It was apart of a series with my own OC but I decided to change it to a Reader fic. The amount of WIPs I have is ridiculous!!!!!

Spencer sat at Y/n's hospital bed in silence. Tears were continuously streaming down his face, his breaths were shaky and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unmoving face. 

There was a tube coming out of your mouth to help your breathing. So many different wires were coming out of your body and attached to multiple beeping machines. 

He was holding your right hand in both of his, your skin wasn’t freezing cold but it was colder than he prefers it to be. 

You had only came out of surgery half an hour ago but they won’t know if it was successful until you wake up. Which could be between the next few seconds and never.  

Never was something Spencer was trying his hardest not to think about. 

There was so much he needed to tell you. So many things he had to say. 

The last time you were together you had fought. You told him that he’s been speaking to Maeve too much and that he's been ignoring you. Spending more time with this woman. 

Spencer had told you that you were being ridiculous and then you had to go on a case and Spencer never got the chance to talk anymore about it. 

You had been furious at him and now Spencer was angry at himself as well. 

He had called you ridiculous for coming to him about your feelings. This resulted in you refusing to be his partner in the field. Which led to you going with Morgan. Which ended in you getting shot. 

This is when Spencer’s brain began connecting things that didn’t match up. 

If he had listened to you he could’ve gotten you out of harm’s way. 

Not speaking to Maeve meant you wouldn’t have fought and you never would’ve been shot. 

He was supposed to protect you. 

It should be him lying there. Not his sweet girl. 

There was a knock on the door and Spencer barely reacted as Garcia and Emily came in. 

“Hey, how is she doin’?” Emily asked softly. 

Spencer turned his head a little towards them, “She... uh.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before trying again, “They said everything went well but we won’t know the damage until she wakes up.” 

Garcia's eyes watered as she stared at your body. “When will she wake up?” 

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, a sad smile forming as he squeezed your hand, “When she’s ready.” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see that it was Maeve. 

Again.  

Along with the twenty missed calls from Maeve.  

He rubbed his eyes before pressing answer, “Spencer Reid.” 

“Oh my God. Spencer, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you alright?” 

This statement didn’t sit well in his stomach.  

If you miss an appointment with your doctor, they don’t leave twenty missed calls on your phone.  

They wait for you to reschedule. 

He glanced at the other two women who were trying their best not to listen in. Although Garcia was looking particularly peeved about something.  

Then he glanced down at you and any words he was going to say to Maeve turned to ash in his mouth. He felt sick.  

Now he understood what you meant. 

“Now, isn’t a good time. I’ll call you next week.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. 

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, “Was... was that her?” 

“Who?” Spencer’s brain wasn’t even functioning at 20%. He couldn’t think things through clearly. 

“Doctor Maeve.” Garcia mocked. 

Spencer frowned, “Yes. Why?” 

Emily gave Penelope a pointed look. 

A look that did not go unnoticed by Spencer, “What? What is it?” 

Emily put her hands up in a calming gesture, as if trying to approach a cornered animal. “Spencer. You must understand, we don’t mean to pry but Y/n spoke to Morgan and he didn’t know what to do so he told Garcia, who told me.” 

Spencer rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes, he did not have the energy for this, “Told you what? What are you talking about?” Spencer was getting agitated now. Why can’t they just tell him? He hated not getting to the point. 

“Well, Y/n came to Morgan two weeks ago and was quite upset.” 

Spencer frowned as he looked at you again. Two weeks ago? You didn’t seem upset two weeks ago. 

“She had some concerns about this doctor that you’ve been speaking to.” Emily explained. 

Garcia huffed, “She told Derek that she had suspicions that you were cheating on her.” She spoke with daggers in her eyes. 

Spencer froze.  

What?!  

He stiffened in his seat as he stared at his unconscious fiancé in shock.  

You thought he was cheating on you?  

You might never wake up again and your last thoughts of him would be the fight and thoughts of his, supposed, adultery.  

How?! How could you think that he could even look at anyone that wasn’t you? 

“I. Would. Never.” He punctuated every damn word so they got his point, trying to blink away the fresh batch of tears that filled his eyes. 

“She planned to stay with Morgan and Savannah for a couple of days-" Garcia told him. 

Spencer tore his eyes away from the bed to gawk at Garcia, “She what?” 

Emily placed her hand on Garcia’s arm and spoke next, “Yesterday, Derek had... overheard one of your conversations with the doctor and he spoke to Y/n about it. So, she decided she would go and stay with him for a few days to sort out her head before coming to you about it.” 

Spencer was furious. Not only did you think he was cheating on you, half of the team now suspected him of it too and no one even had the decency to ask him. And what was this phone call that was so damning that Derek had to run and tell his fiancé? Why didn’t Derek just ask him instead of almost ruining his relationship without him even knowing about it! 

Spencer was shaking with rage. He stood abruptly from his chair and turned to the girls, pointing to Y/n’s bed he ordered out, “Stay with her.” before he stormed outside to head to the waiting room. 

He saw red. He couldn’t think of anything except for the anger he felt. 

Quickly turning the corner he saw the rest of the team sitting and talking as if nothing was wrong. 

J.J noticed him first and stood up, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan following suit. 

“Spence, any news?” she asked gently. 

Spencer didn’t even hear her; never slowed his pace either. As soon as Morgan was within arm’s reach he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and swung as hard as he could.  

His fist made connection with Morgan’s cheek and from the shock of Spencer’s actions it knocked Morgan off kilter. Morgan stumbled and placed his hand to his cheek. 

The punch clearly did more harm to Spencer than Morgan, but he didn’t care. The pain in his hand was welcomed. It cut through the hurt that was clutched around his heart. 

The others cried out in shock as they tried to digest what just happened. 

“What the hell, kid?!” Morgan yelled at him. 

“’What the hell’ is right!” Spencer growled back as he stepped up to the other man and pushed his shoulders, “Sneaking behind my back? Telling my fiancé that I had some secret affair because of some phone call you didn’t hear the entirety of!” 

Spencer was seething, the rest of the team gaping at him never having seen him so furious before, “You could’ve just asked! But no, the whole team had to get involved. And now I hear she was planning on living with you for a few days?!” Spencer clenched his possibly broken fist again. “She’s in a coma and may never wake up again and her last thoughts of me will be the thought that I was getting with someone else.” 

Spencer inhaled sharply as his rage at Morgan turned to rage at himself. 

“Spencer!” J.J shouted, “Stop!” 

His sharp inhales quickly turned to hyperventilation, his brain was in overdrive, a million thoughts and memories were spinning around his head and he just wanted it to stop. 

So he stopped it the only way he knew how.  

Instead of hitting Morgan, Spencer turned at the last second and hit the wall. 

He fell to his knees and cried as he hit the wall again and again and again and again. 

Blood smeared across the white wall as he broke the skin on the knuckles. The physical pain overrode his senses and he chased the feeling. 

That was until Hotch grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall causing Spencer to lose his balance and fall back into Hotch's arms which quickly locked around him. 

“Stop! Get off of me! Hotch, let go!” Spencer squirmed as he tried to fight against his boss. His back was pressed tightly against Hotch’s chest, his legs bent in front of him and he kept slapping at Hotch’s arms to let go. 

Hotch just shushed him and held him tighter. Completely understanding his anger. He’s been there and the best thing for Spencer is to calm down enough so he can go back and sit with Y/n instead of giving in to his anger and doing something else that he will regret. 

Once Spencer figured out that he wasn’t going anywhere the fight drained out of him and he stopped slapping at the arms circled around him.  

While Spencer was hunched over Hotch gave the rest of the team a nod to clear the area and give the two some space. 

Hotch pulled one Spencer’s shoulders to shift his position so that Spencer curled into his chest. 

Once Hotch placed a comforting hand over Spencer’s head a sob broke past his lips and the entire dam broke. Spencer cried his heart out.  

He could barely breathe, inhaling only made him choke on his sobs and made him feel worse. 

“What if I never get to speak to her again?” he whispered between sobs. “Never get to tell her that she’s the only one for me.” 

“Spencer you need to breathe.” Hotch told him gently, “You need to calm down. Breathe with me.” 

Spencer felt Hotch’s chest rising and falling against him. He closed his eyes and tried to follow his boss’ actions. 

After a moment, Spencer was finally able to take a deep breath. The oxygen flooded his brain and the fog cleared. His entire body shivered before he came to his senses. 

Blinking hard he realised he was curled into Hotch’s chest, cocooned in his arms.  

He shouldn’t be here.  

He was sitting on the hospital floor instead of in with Y/n. He slowly sat up and Hotch let his arms fall from around him. 

“You alright?” 

Spencer wiped his left hand over his face, “Fine. Fine. Yeah. I need to uh, I need to go to Y/n.” 

He put his right hand behind him to support his weight, but an agonising pain shot through his hand and he fell onto his elbow with a grunt. 

“Here, let me see.” Hotch knelt over him and held out his hand. 

Spencer shook his head and used his other hand to support his weight as he got off the floor, dusting himself off as best he could, “I’m fine.” He held his right arm close to him as he stood up straight.  

He looked around and noticed that J.J, Rossi and Morgan are nowhere to be seen… which is probably for the best. 

The shame of what he’s done washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He just punched his best friend in front of his team then proceeded to have a break down in his boss’ arms. 

“Spencer.” Hotch called out. “You’re not fine, let me see your hand.” 

Spencer shook his head and walked out of the waiting room without saying anything. 

Stopping just outside Y/n’s room he looked in the window, you hadn’t moved a muscle.  

Emily was sat by your bedside holding your hand. 

The pain of the possibility of losing her was too much for him. His only relief was the slow rise and fall of your chest.  

His eyes were already puffy and sore, and he felt dehydrated. He sighed as he raised his left hand to wipe the tears away, cursing himself for his behaviour. 

“Spencer.” Hotch stood at his side, “You need to get your hand looked at, and I’m sure the nurse wouldn’t mind doing it by Y/n’s bedside.” He knew Spencer probably doesn’t want his hand looked at for at least three reasons; he doesn’t want to leave Y/n’s side for much longer, he feels embarrassed or shameful or he feels the need to punish himself. 

He agreed as long as he can stay beside Y/n, “Okay.” He opened the door and the bleeps of the machine’s filled his ears.  

That was your heartbeat.  

He lowered himself into the chair at your right side and raised his left hand to hold hers. His right hand was tucked into his chest. The throbbing was excruciating but he welcomed it. 

He pointedly avoided Emily’s worried expression before she smiled at him and left the room without word. 

A nurse came bustling into the room a few moments later with a tray of equipment, clearly fetched by Hotch. She stood next to him and Spencer raised his hand to let her do what she needed to do. Hissing as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. 

The nurse didn’t mind his silence and talked calmly to him as she worked, “You did quite the number on your hand.” She wiped away the blood and inspected his fingers, “You’ve definitely broken a few knuckles, I’m going to wrap your fingers in a splint and then bandage you up, okay?” 

Spencer nodded, “Okay.” He said quietly. 

She taped his middle and ring finger together and then bandaged his entire hand down to his wrist. “Now, keep this on for the next two weeks and then come back in so we can give you an x-ray and review the damage.” 

Spencer nodded, “Thank you.” 

The nurse left and Spencer was alone with Y/n once more. He stared at his right hand that was now resting on the bed.  

How could he do this? Throw a tantrum while the love of his life lies in bed fighting for her life. 

He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bed. 

“Hi.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hasn’t been this nervous to talk to you since you first met. “You always told me that I needed to talk more, but I- I have no words for what I’ve done. I’ve done something terrible. Actually, I’ve done a few terrible things.” The tears formed once more, and his head pounded from the pressure. “I may never get the chance to say this to you but I am so, so, sorry. I made you feel that you weren’t special to me anymore, that I don’t love you which is the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Spencer played with a strand of your hair that was laying on your shoulder. 

“How could I ever be with someone else? No one could ever, ever take your place in my heart.” 

He gently lifted your hand in both of his, his head felt heavy, so he bent over and placed his forehead on the back of her hand. “I love you more than anything in this world. When you wake up I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you. And I know you wouldn’t want to miss that. So, please wake up. Please.” 

He had been talking when it happened so he never heard it. 

You weren’t breathing in the same rhythm as before. 

When he finally noticed, he frowned as he looked you over. He slowly got to his feet as he scanned the machines. Right before his eyes some of the numbers began to climb as others started to fall. 

Spencer scrambled past the chair and ripped open the door to your room, “Doctor! I need a doctor here now!” He yelled out before running back to your side, “Y/n, sweetheart if you can hear me; don’t give up. Please.” 

Two doctors and a nurse sprinted into the room. 

“Sir, sir!” The nurse grabbed Spencer’s shoulder, “We need you to leave.” 

Spencer shook his head frantically, trying to keep up with everything that the doctors were saying to each other, “I can’t.” he whispered to himself. 

“Sir! Please!” The nurse pushed at Spencer’s shoulders until he was outside the room and the door was shut in his face. 

The rest of the team had heard the commotion and had run to the room as well. 

Rossi placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as the entire team watched the doctors place paddles on your chest and shock you. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

#spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge (teaser)

PAIRING(S) | park sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE(S) | fluff, crack, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, influencer au (?)

EST. WORD COUNT | around 5k

WARNING(S) | profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad, mc is painfully dense + all warnings to be added in the full fic!

SUMMARY | being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

TAGLIST | @blank-velvet @soobisms @justalildumpling @xharisrealm @skzenhalove @alicesolengg @yenqa @geombyu @tika-writes-lol @jlheon @haknom @useraerin @hooniessslvrss @flwrshee @rikisly @tobiosbbyghorl @wonkivrse @heeflrs @bambithia @iea-tsand @chaechae-23 @en-dazed @jayfrvr @h-hazwie @moonlighthoon @justanotherkpopstanlol @sseastar-main @seongclb @shoyotime @gerianne @iadorethemskz @sieuneo @hoon0logy @luvistqrzzz @sucrosxi @lzux1 @t4kalcvr @nes-caf @odxrilove @trippy-dejun @arizejkt19 @xuimhao @vizstars @enhacatalog send an ask/comment if u wish!

AUTHOR’S NOTE | I AM COMING BACK!!!!!! (kinda. maybe. idk i get ahead of myself a lot LOL) finals are finallyyyy over and i have some time to write this week so i’ve started this old wip of mine! it’s going to be pretty short and sweet so i’ll hopefully be able to follow through on this teaser but no promises haha :)) i hope u look forward to this fic! inspired by h.j evelyn (♡)

click here for the full fic!

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen. 

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit truly went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was very long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”  

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen #park sunghoon #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen headcanons #sunghoon headcanons #enhypen time #sunghoon timestamps #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon fanfic #enhypen soft hours #sunghoon soft hours

[autisticlancemcclain]

wip tease number god knows, truly

The phone doesn’t ring for more than two seconds. Which is crazy, because New Altea is an unfathomably huge number of lightyears away and also Lance’s phone signal is perpetually garbage.

“Ahoy,” greets Allura when the line connects, because she is strange.

“Ahoy,” Lance greets back, because he loves her.

They sit in silence. He can hear, vaguely, the clicking sounds of compacts being opened and closed, and the particular humming noise she always makes when she’s putting on eyeliner.

It occurs to Lance, for the first time, that they have known each other so long and so closely that to the outsider, their relationship might be quite strange. The thought makes him smile widely.

“So,” he says.

Allura hums again. Deliberately, this time.

Lance takes another long time to answer, digging the toe of his boots into the ground. He spies a worm wiggling in the newly churned dirt and bends down to pluck it, writhing, out of its hovel. He quickly snaps a picture and sends it to Pidge with the caption, ‘didn’t know you were on Earth today.’ She responds with a grotesquely realistic custom clown emoji.

“There is a possibility. Perhaps. That I do not actually want to be a farmer.”

“No shit,” replies the Queen of New Altea And Also Lots Of Other Things Lance Can’t Remember, blithely.

Lance sniffs haughtily. “This is quite the revelation, you know. I’ve had four panic attacks about it.”

“You have an anxiety disorder. You had a panic attack about malevolent gut bacteria last week.”

“…This is true.”

“Also, whenever I feel you need to be humbled, I ask your mother to send me stuff from your childhood. There’s a video in particular I enjoy of you sobbing about the prospect of being anything but an astronaut. You looked at a cornfield and threw up. You were four, I believe.”

Lance does, actually, vaguely remember that. Well, he remembers Luis writhing on the floor, weeping with laughter, and kicking him in the shins. He also remembers the cornfield, if only because he distinctly remembers lobbing a piece of corn at Luis’ head, also.

He was a very expressive child. Also, Luis is a turd.

“I am entitled to a period of self-reflection,” Lance says primly.

“It has been an Entire Year, knobhead.”

“I needed time to collect my thoughts in peace and on Earth. I died, you know.”

“Oh, did you,” says Allura drily. “I wonder how that went.”

Lance’s smile widens. He lets her have this one. “Fuck farming, okay. I’m bored. I love my family to pieces but I need to be closer to drama. Give me a job.”

“That is a garbage application, Leandro.” He hears the distinct sound of a nail polish bottle being shaken. “I should hire someone more qualified.”

“How about you hire deez nuts.”

“Hm,” she says, and he can hear her grinning. “On the other hand, I need a second in command who is unafraid to challenge me. You know, in case I grow corrupt with power.”

She pretends to deliberate for a moment.

“You’re hired. I’ll send someone to come pick you up tomorrow.”

“Is that someone going to be a hot, tall Altean in a slutty outfit?” Lance asks hopefully.

She can’t help a laugh. Lance grins triumphantly. “You’re fired.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’ll think about it.”

She hangs up.

#this is going to be diplomat lance bodyguard keith post canon divergence no one let me forget to write this #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #allura #princess allura #lance & allura #i simply love them #post canon #canon divergence #pre klance #pining lance #diplomat lance #wip tease #my writing #fic

[anincompletelist]

happy wip wednesday! :D

once again got caught up in the excitement of finishing up bridesmaids so have not gotten a chance to read through these yet, but THANK YOU to @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere @kiwiana-writes @suseagull04 @orchidscript @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes @ninzied FOR THE TAGS! I am looking forward to getting my popcorn ready and reading through all of your lovely words <3

this snippet is longer than I thought (oops) but I've been keeping this one pretty close to my chest and it has been clawing at the bars of its enclosure (the Docs) to get out into the world so HERE SHE IS:

+

“With all due respect,” Alex hesitates, “if this client needs to remain so confidential, would you not just want to… ask them what they’d want? Cut out the middle man?” He readjusts the phone where it’s caught between his ear and his shoulder, stuffing the last of the groceries into his trunk. The pay-off really would be nice. “Not that I’m turning down the job at all.” 

Bea sighs. “That’s the thing, though— he already has everything he could possibly want. It isn’t— he doesn’t much care for material things, save for a few sentimental items he already has. I’ve tried to throw him parties and I’ve tried to work with his best friend to come up with something and I’ve gotten and made him one of everything known to man and it just—” she huffs, cutting herself off. “He would never act ungrateful for anything, but he— these past few years have been difficult for him and I haven’t been as present as I should be and I know a gift isn’t going to magically make up for that but birthdays are hard for him he just deserves something really, really good.” 

“Um,” Alex blinks at the concrete. 

“God, I’m so sorry. I’ve just given you a shitload of information that you never asked for, haven’t I?” 

“No, that’s— this is good. I can work with this,” he clears his throat, nodding to himself. “And I get the whole wanting-them-to-have-something-good thing, especially when it’s a sibling.” 

Bea’s line goes silent for a moment. “... Had I mentioned that it was my brother?” 

“Oh,” he blinks, gripping the phone a bit harder, “well, no. I don’t think so. I’m sorry for assuming, I just— you were talking about him the same way my sister talks about me so I just—” 

“Alex, please,” she laughs softly. “It’s alright. I’m glad that you haven’t already hung up on me, to be honest. I’m a bit all over the place at the moment.” 

“Maybe we should get that NDA out of the way before we continue then. Then you can feel free to be as unhinged as you want.” 

She snorts. “Yes, perhaps we should.” 

“Although, if you don’t mind, I always ask my clients how they found me for research purposes. So, can I ask—?” 

“As it turns out, professional gift-giving is a highly specific occupation, and you seem to be about the only legitimate looking one that managed to come up in the Google results.”

+

OPEN TAG OPEN TAG but also! @firenati0n @affectionatelyrs @inexplicablymine @msmarvelouswinchester @bigassbowlingballhead @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @iboatedhere @matherines @sparklepocalypse @firstprincexo @raysletters @cricketnationrise @eusuntgratie @anchoredarchangel @rmd-writes <3333

#wips

[bettsfic]

hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

#writing advice #motivation #process #listen i'm not saying i have a healthy relationship with writing #if you can do it healthier than i do that's what i recommend

[aloysiavirgata]

Thanks to @numinousmysteries for tagging me! I had never checked these stats before!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

92

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I’ve written for Hannibal, Battlestar Galactica, The Fall, and The X-Files, but only The X-Files at this point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Parting Glass (smut)

Animus Possidendi (dark smut)

The Common Fate of All Things Rare (casefile, cowritten)

Lacuna (casefile)

This Her Fever (cancer arc)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes and no. Not like I should. I am so deeply, truly grateful for every single one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, I killed William in Inhaling the Different Dawn, but that wasn’t at the end.

Maybe Where The Vines Cling Crimson? Scully’s cancer comes back and her fate is ambiguous. And I had Scully kill Emily in Alabaster Stones. But I think that was the right ending for both of them.

As a mother? A Basket of Reeds, where Scully gives William away. I can’t even reread it without a lump in my throat, man.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Tent of Shelter is fluffy and lovely gets a lot of love, and was inspired by a STUNNING manip by @avocadoave but I personally think In The Gale. It’s the one that, to me, feels the most like a grownup relationship of two people processing some trauma. I think that’s an ending that’s happy and also real - like “I don’t love being broken, but I can survive being broken with you.” Two abeyances that lean…

Foxfire for similar reasons. I real love that little story, which I wrote thanks to @perplexistan

I’m 43. I’ve been married for well over two decades and let me tell you that young love is a gift and mature love is a craft.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Some! And that’s really great too, that people read words I wrote and felt so passionately that they left me words about those feelings. What a strange but profound compliment!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. PWP isn’t my personal taste so even though I wrote a LOT of smut for the old pornbattles at LJ I wanted the smut to still tell a story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I can’t say it’s especially crazy, but Fern Hill is a Mulder/Stella Gibson crossover. There are a few little ficlets with XF/Silence of the Lambs crossovers in my Inbox Prompts series.

Oh fuck! Wait! I wrote a Fall/Hannibal/XF crossover called Anthemoessa where Stella, Scully, and Bedelia all meet. Okay that’s it. That wins.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Years ago. God, isn’t that sad? To need positive reinforcement that much?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It was SUCH a compliment!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have - The Common Fate of All Things Rare

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mr. Virgata and me. Followed by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, who literally invented the word. ❤️

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Fisher King

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do pretty good banter and my education makes me pretty good at the sciencey bits.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I get too lost in descriptions and I try too hard to be clever. I do my best to self edit but sometimes I reread things and I’m like oh my GOD SHUT YOUR PRETENTIOUS ASS UP.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it for Bedelia and Hannibal in Italian. I’m not sure I understand the question?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

TXF, my one true love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t know that I have a favorite per se. I am most proud of the ones that challenged me to do something outside my comfort zone. Samson is one of mytop fives even though it’s Mulder/Diana. I think I did a nice job. I also wrote Pair of Aces/Double or Nothing which is Scully/Byers.

But I do really love the world of Petrichor and Singing of Mount Abora, and I like the cases.

#tags #ao3 #writing memes

[dwarvenchords]

WIP Wednesday but its Thursday

I may be cooking. Blame @i-am-church-the-cat for the inspo

Name TBD, 751 words

its a loscar boat thing idk man enjoy

___

“Oscar?” He hears Benny call from inside his office. “Come here, please.” A chorus of ‘Ooo’s emanate from the group at the table, one of which Oscar knows, softly flicking him on the crown, earning a squawk while he walks away, snickering.

“Hush, Doohan.” Oscar jokes as he walks to Benny’s office, leaning in the door frame as he takes a sip from his water bottle. “What’s up, mate?”

“Hey, I’ve got a new family in today. They want a full tune up. Americans, just got in from Dubai last night, apparently.” 

“Jesus, Dubai?!” Oscar’s jaw drops at Benny’s explanation. “They definitely need the tune up, Christ. That takes like- three weeks!”

“Here’s the information,” Benny hands him a paper, Oscar flicks his eyes over it briefly, gagging at the model name. “Pretty hard to miss it, biggest one in the dock now.”

“What are they- billionaires? Why on earth did they end up here?” Oscar reads over more of the paper. ‘Sargeant,’ “Are they celebrities or something?” he didn’t know the name personally, but his pop culture knowledge is limited to begin with, much to his sisters’ complaint. Maybe they’d be able to tell him when he gets home tonight.

“Not my problem, not your business. Be polite to ‘em,” Benny laughs, dismissing him with a waved hand, “Oh- also, check on the James’ mainsail again, they’re still having loosening issues. Thank you Oscar.” 

“Of course. Any time, boss.” Oscar snaps his fingers, giving a thumbs up before walking into the break room once again.

“Dude, look at the size of that thing!” One of the boys says, motioning out the window. Oscar’s eyes follow it, and the absolutely massive yacht fills his vision, the sun illuminating it from behind, a kind of halo around the beast of a machine. 

“They give it to you, Piastri?” Jack asks over his cup of coffee.

Oscar doesn’t answer, opening the granola bar and taking a bite, shrugging. 

“God- of course they did! How come none of us ever get to do the cool stuff.” One of the other boys complains. “Seniority is bullshit.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try to do any work on that thing without blowing a gasket.” 

The boys continue squabbling as Oscar grabs a piece of gum from his bag, throwing away the granola bar wrapper. He sticks his keys in the pocket of his shorts and puts his sunglasses on, tipping his hat to the table. “Later.” A slight smirk on his lips as he walks out of the office again. He pops the gum into his mouth as he heads out the main door once again. The heat hits him in a wave as he leaves the comfort of the building, heading for the storage shed. 

He takes the moment to look over at the boat again, its white shell gleaming in the sunlight. It looks big from here, already. He hasn’t even had the chance to get close yet, Jesus. He blows some air out of his lips, stretching his neck to the side as he folds the gum over itself between his teeth. 

Oscar can’t quite wrap his mind around how a boat like that ends up here? Melbourne was nice and all, but it wasn’t the fanciest travel destination. He’d think people with money like that would want to spend their time on some ski slope, somewhere that isn’t blistering hot this time of year. Or if they needed sun and sand so badly, they'd at least go somewhere mediterranean where the sun is a little bit softer on them and the water is a little bit warmer. Maybe spend some time off a Greek island, eating delicious farm grown food in fine restaurants. He flicks on the light in the shed after unlocking the door, grabbing a few items he needs from the shelves. 

Whatever made them choose to end up here regardless, he’d seen the type before and he knows he’ll see them again. He chucks the items for the James’ mainsail into a bucket, grabbing it by the handle after doing a once over before heading out the door.

He takes one last look at the bright figure looming in his vision as he locks the shed door.  Give them enough time to wake up before he intrudes, he reasons, as he pulls out his headphones again, placing them in his ears and shuffling his playlist. He picks up the bucket and heads for the adjacent row of sailboats.

___

Hope u enjoyed <333 hopefully coming soon, lmk what you think

#f1 #formula 1 #logan sargeant #oscar piastri #my fanfic #wip wednesday #wip whenever #fanfic #writing #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #loscar

[rule0fwolves]

100 rp sentence starters/dialogue prompts straight out of fanfictions I've written.

{feel free to change pronouns and wording as you need or see fit!}

ALSO DONT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HOW RANDOM OR CHEESY THESE ARE I DONT WANNA HEAR IT

also also, a few of them are from WIPS that I have yet to unleash onto this hellsite or the other lame ones.

“Don’t play dumb. You knew how they felt. You were just stringing them on, right? You weren’t serious.”

“Woah, what’s up with you? You look pissed.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Worst of all, I miss you; the only one who deserves to be missed. You’re the only one who’s actually good for me.”

“You’re acting really distant for no reason. Well, maybe there is a reason, but how the hell would I know that if you don’t tell me?”

“I like you. More than a friend. I’m sorry I had to tell you like this.”

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“You’re cute, I’ll give you that. But no amount of whining will make me tell you.”

“I better be the only man in your life. You’ll never find anyone as great as me, I promise.”

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll always be my number one”

“It’s gotten dark. Here, let me walk you home.”

“Duh? I, A, have found a movie that I think you, B, would like so I, A, am asking you, B, to see a movie with me.”

“Omg yes! I can’t wait to actually meet you! I want to go everywhere with you.”

“You can think about work later, okay? Let’s run away.”

“You remember our secret paradise, don’t you?”

“You need to take better care of yourself, bub. Whenever you need me, I’m here. I’ll help you.”

“Yeah. I remember you crying like a big baby when ___ called you average.”

“I am manifesting that ___ doesn’t actually like me and is actually confessing something else.”

“I’m gonna need at least 3 years before I can come back from that shit.”

“What kind of damage have you done you dumbass!!”

“SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING I SWEAR ON MY MAMA”

“THIS WOULDN’T BE A PROBLEM IF YOU WEREN’T A PUSSY AND YOU JUST CONFESS ALREADY!!”

“___ told me to say “mind ur business <3””

“Sorry, my lips are (forcibly) sealed.”

“Count your days, ___. Sleep with one eye open from now on.”

“You are so jealous it is so funny”

“I’M TELLING ___ YOU WANNA HAVE AN AFFAIR”

“I’m happy for you! I know you were pretty upset, so I’m glad things worked out.”

“Sorry about that. I panicked. Thanks for helping me out.”

"I don't really feel like working on the project today."

"Let's just hang out. Tell me more about yourself. You haven't told me much."

"Oh my god I've thought about this so many times, you have no idea.”

“Hey, pretty. Do you have a pen?”

“You should stay home. Rest a little. I’ll have fun for you.”

“Awww, you’re so eager.”

“I don’t want to stay just friends…. I like you too much.”

“Just lean on me. I won’t let you go.”

“Live for me.”

“I forgot to bring some clothes with me last night, and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I wore something of yours…”

“We’re done, _____. I’ve seen enough. I knew this was happening but I chose to ignore it. I chose to have faith in you and this is how you repay me? I guess I made the wrong choice. Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

“Of course you would, anything for just a kiss,” 

“Go, go! I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you and your layers,”

“Well if it turns out you rejected me, then I wouldn’t have to see your stupid face again afterwards and I wouldn’t have to feel awkward about it.”

“Say it again! Say you like me!”

“I’ll kill her if you want me to. No one hurts my ____.” (joking)

“Says you, Mr. Five Foot Nine Inches!!” (can go for any height under 5’11” or 180cm)

“It’s dark out there and you never know what could happen.”

“Thanks for coming over. I feel a lot better.”

 “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it was just a joke.”

“____! Let me go! You smell, go shower!”

“It’s been a month already, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.”

“I couldn’t find an umbrella… And I didn’t know it would be raining that hard. It was only sprinkling when I left”

“Oh my god thank goodness it’s you. My friends ditched me.”

“What the fuck are you doing? Get off me!”

“I like the way she looks at me. And I like how she always cares about me. And the way her eyebrows furrow together whenever she’s confused and the ways her eyes sparkle when she’s amazed by something. And of course I love her attention.”

“Don’t get rid of your feelings for me. Don’t forget me. Don’t like anyone else.”

“Hey, instead of sleeping on the couch, could you sleep with me? I’m sure it would be much more comfortable and better for your back.”

 “How’s it going my little emo buddy?”

“Not exactly stalking… Just… Watching. I don’t want you to get hurt. That guy is just a player. I can give you everything you need.”

“You really hate love, don’t you?”

“You’re such a great friend. What did I do to deserve you?”

“If you ever show your face near me or my friends spewing bullshit, I’ll make sure you can never walk again.” 

 “I won’t stop you. You’re not mine anymore.”

“I just think… I need some space. We should… Take a break.”

“I’m so sorry, ____. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m just… I’m just so scared, (nickname).”

“(full name), I’m in love with you. And that scares the shit out of me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

“I’ve liked you since day one, ____. You can hurt me all you want.”

“Let’s keep it that way. I don’t want you dating until you’re 30.”

“What are your intentions with ____?” 

“I’ll burn you alive if you even think about doing something to ____,”

“Everyone be nice to her or else you’ll be eating wood chips for breakfast, lunch, and dinner”

“Be more careful next time. Your friends would have my head if I let you get hurt,”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“ You really look the opposite of okay.”

“You’re upset over a 97 percent?”

“ I’m just so disappointed in myself.”

“You can uh… Pay me back later if you really feel that bad about it.”

“You were glowing.”

“It’s what you’re thinking though, right? Why bother with the fake kindness, hm?”

“Do you want to watch a movie? I have Netflix.”

“I’ve only ever skated once and I was terrible at it.”

“Alright, we can take it slow. I won’t let go of you until you feel confident in yourself. Okay?”

“Where did you get that information?”

“I am going to murder that motherfucker.”

“Babe, come on. Your feelings are totally valid. He gave you mixed signals. Even if it was fake, you have a right to feel upset.”

“Who is ____ and why are you out for his blood?”

“I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to get over him, I did. I wanted to like you back, but I can’t. I’m still so helplessly in love with ____.”

“Please don’t force yourself to like me. You can’t help who you love.”

“Have a good nap. But before you do, there’s a… present.... in your room.”

“We need to talk. I’m serious this time. Please just listen.”

“I know the relationship was fake, but I swear to you, my feelings are not.”

“I am just about as in love with you as you are with me.”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you.”

“Let’s start over. For real this time.”

“Your brother is terrifying.”

“He’s been hanging out with ___ too much, the stupid is rubbing off on him.”

“You… You want me to choose…?”

“I’m not the ordinary monster that lives in your closet or under your bed. I’m way fucking worse.”

#rp starters #sentence starters #writing prompts #rp prompts #rp meme #starters #fanfiction memes #roleplay starters #writing ideas #prompts #written prompts #original post time #multimuse #oc rp #oc x canon #oc x oc #canon x canon #ship meme

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Whenever

I could wait for Wednesday, but time has no meaning in December when the sun doesn't shine so have a bit of Sweet Victory:

Patroclus really doesn’t need to have someone witnessing the most embarrassing conversation of his entire life. “Every time I asked if you wanted to stay in my room, or if you wanted to hold hands or” –God, this was humiliating— “Anything. Anything that couples do, you always said that it was fine, we didn’t need to do things like that.”

“Because you don’t like to be touched.”

“What?”

He stares at the guy who has been touching him in very personal ways for years, but even beyond that, it doesn’t make sense. Patroclus might not go around throwing his arm around everyone’s shoulders like Menelaus does, but he thinks he likes being touched a normal amount. Or he would if Achilles ever showed any inclination toward it.

His confusion must show on his face, because Achilles looks wounded when he says, “You told me.”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did. My dad hugged you, and you looked so uncomfortable, and I asked you about it later and you said you didn’t want anyone touching you.”

Patroclus tries to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. Peleus never hugged him, never gave him so much as a pat on the back, except—“When I was ten? And I’d known both of you for all of twenty minutes?” And in what way is an adult hugging a strange child anything like a boyfriend acting like a boyfriend? Achilles has kept that conversation in his brain ever since? Etched in stone as if Patroclus had meant he didn’t want anyone ever touching him again as opposed for maybe only that day or that week or that minute? “Oh my god, is that why Peleus never hugged me again? You told him not to?”

Patroclus had thought surely, surely after his graduation from high school Peleus would give him at least one of those side hugs. He thought he deserved that, maybe. He got one of those from his chemistry teacher, but not the man who raised him for eight years of his life.

“Have you two really lived together for ten years?” Menelaus asks.

“Eight,” they both reply simultaneously.

“It’s just that from this conversation I’d assume you’ve never actually spoken to each other at all in your lives.”

“Thank you for that very helpful observation,” Patroclus drawls without looking away from Achilles.

“I mean I’ve known Patroclus for all of about three minutes and I could tell you he likes his hair pulled.”

Do I? Patroclus wonders for a millisecond before registering the look on Achilles’ face, the near future flashing in front of his eyes, and it contains a lot of blood spurting from Menelaus’s nose. Patroclus lunges forward as Achilles starts to move, shoving both his arms under Achilles’ armpits and lifting him off his feet.

“Put me down,” Achilles growls, trying to wrench out of Patroclus’s grasp.

#patrochilles #and the tag that may or may not exist yet #patrochillaus #fanfic #menelaus's patience has completely frayed he's in fuck it mode #dropping this year for a thiefy elf and anyone else

[stevebabey]

I just read your x reader post (and the anon response to it) and good Lord you are right. I read your whole rant and I felt it in my bones!!

I've been in this damn app for over 10 years, and written for almost as many fandoms, and I'll say that the x reader tag has NEVER been this bad. It's not just st, it's nearly all of the ones I've seen and it's just gone down hill. It's really so fucking sad.

I was huge in the SVU fandom, and there were So! Many! Writers! We all reblogged eachothers fics and not everything had to be about sex to get notes! We LOVED when reader kissed the character for the first time because we understood that it was the yearning, the 'Oh God finally I'm having you' and not all about just fucking! God now even the most hastly written, shitty smut gets thousands of notes just because it's smut. It's so fucking disheartening. I've written a few things for st (one of which is the piece I'm most proud of, ever) and it got like, 100 notes on here. That's it, but I swear some 'popular' writers get so much traction just because they write smut poorly.

And not to sound like a boomer (cause I'm not a SWEAR) but the tik tok-ification of fandom and fanfic is ruining it! The lack of reading comprehension, the fact that reader has to be as description-less as possible or else "its not realalistic, I'd never do that, etc etc" makes me wanna rip my skin off. Fanfic used to be an outlet for so many people but the way its treated now makes it near unbearable.

(I'm so sorry I went on a rant you don't have to post this but just know that I agree with you 110%)

RANT! RANT! RANT! i’m so happy to hear people’s rant, i talk about these issues a lot with friends in dms and it’s very vindicating to hear it’s something that has bugged and annoyed more people than just me !

yes omg the way x reader fics have shifted over the last 10 years is INSANE— hearing that it’s not just stranger things unfortunately doesn’t make me feel much better lmao

i’ve picked this fight before back when i was in the spidey fandom because of this EXACT reason — where i was like hey…… sometimes things that have more notes….. are worse - because people have this insane thing where they will judge a fic? based on? its notes? and its like buddy how do u think a fic gets ANY notes if you act like that. truly its the worst, writers that are already big just keep getting boosted (even if they just write characters nasty fucking which is! ur prerogative! but it shouldnt be SUCH a factor in being popular/getting your fics read)

i’m not pointing fingers but yes i know a couple blogs that get HYPED because they both A) write smut constantly and B) write fast. and isn’t that just such a kicker if you can’t and don’t want to do those things? like even though it means nothing, there is no correlation between writing slow = bad writing, this site reflects that SO much because they never give that shit the notes it deserves

tiktok-ification god ur so right. it’s the way the mindset has shifted from these being wips, writing, pieces that you develop into instead content. consumable content. there’s such a disconnect between people that read shit tons of fic and the realisation that it’s produced by a person. they just hit the like button and go on anon to ask for an update and it’s like buddy it can’t work that way! the same way u like to read fic, writers want validation and engagement and questions and motivation!!! talk about biting the hand that feeds you 😭

[grabs ur shoulders and presses our foreheads together] we’re not crazy. it used to be better and we can make it better in time <3

#MWAH #i love u brave babeys letting me know all ur thoughts #ruby talks #asks #anon

[bbutterflies]

2023 fanfic year in review

Thank you @kasienda for the tag!!! Been meaning to do this since I wrote so much in 2023!

Fics completed this year:

Oh my god I was writing lovesquare still at the beginning of the year… who was I back then… I finished I’d fall in love with you a thousand times and Meant to be, and then wrote all of Intertwined. I try to hold these all in kind thoughts. I don’t think they’re all that great, personally, but I just hadn’t written as much when I wrote them and never outlined or planned ahead. But I’m happy people liked them!

And then I went off the deep end with adrino:

I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious)

Falling into place

ways to say I love you

promise me forever

The memories we (don’t) make

Not much of a cat person

The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you)

Chemistry with him (for Ninovember 2023! I wrote the entire thing in about a month and a half and posted daily in November. My life took a serious turn for the worse by the end of the month and the comments and support on this fic were so amazing and incredible and kept me going!)

Love you snow much

And then I ended strong with this incredibly devastating (but really good) loveywalker one shot: fine line

Number of words written:

My ao3 stats say I published 329,988 words in 2023 which is insane????? I don’t know how I did that but oh my god it was so fun. I know I wrote way more that I didn’t publish with edits and stuff I scrapped, but I don’t keep track because it would just be way too difficult… at least another 100-150k if I had to guess in cut scenes and wips I haven’t published and stuff I just decided I didn’t like. I don’t know how in the world I managed to write so much while already a sleep-deprived grad student but I definitely don’t regret it. It was a blast.

Your most popular fic:

By hits, Meant to be. Oh man… if I wrote this now I’d do so much differently. I was surprised people loved it so much, and looking back, I’m like oh god… the mistakes… but it’s all a learning process! :) and I learned and grew so much from this one.

By kudos, ways to say I love you, which I didn’t expect to gain any traction at all. It’s just over 600 words, something silly and cute I figured a couple people would like, and it totally blew up.

Your personal fav:

I know I’ve said this before but Falling into place, hands down, is my number one. I know I’ve also said before it’s such a queer, teenage experience, but it is and it means so much to me. Being in high school, being in love with your friends and not even knowing it, aughhh I just love it. I love the way I wrote it. I’m so proud of it still!

Your fav scene:

Oh man… probably the kiss scene in chapter 9 of The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you). I wrote it so many times and made so many edits but I ended up so proud of it!

A fic or scene that challenged you:

I had a lot of fun with most of my fics! Having multiple wips on the backburner gave me a way to take a break and work on other stuff when I was having trouble with one and I can usually come back with fresh eyes later and never have too much trouble. But right now, If I hold you too close is challenging emotionally. It’s super personal and self-indulgent, and digging into a lot of my own past and traumas and mistakes to write it has been harder than I thought it would be. I’m excited to keep working on it but it’s been draining at times for sure.

A line of writing you’re proud of: 

Oh man, I don’t know how to pick a single line… I’ll have to go with this (even though it’s technically more than one line) from Falling into place:

Adrien’s eyes were locked on Nino’s. He was staring back with something in his expression Adrien couldn’t quite read, something he hadn’t seen before. Or maybe he had but he’d just never been looking.

A comment that touched you:

A few come to mind! I’ve had several people comment on my adrino fics telling me they hadn’t shipped them before but they do after reading, and honestly that’s my number one life goal at the moment haha. I love adrino! I want more people to love them!

I genuinely love all the comments I get. It means so much that people read and love my work. The people who say so specifically always get me teared up… I’ve gotten several on my fluff fics that said they were going through stuff in life and my writing was a bright spot for them, and genuinely that’s insane to me. To touch someone else, to have a positive impact on their life through art…. oughhh it’s just so human and raw and I love it! I’m so honored!

Something that inspired your writing:

I honestly spent a lot of time writing what I personally wanted/needed to read! I needed more domestic adrino fluff, and I wasn’t finding quite what I wanted to read, so… I wrote it for myself! I love rereading them knowing it’s exactly what I want to read, and knowing other people enjoyed them too. I’ve been incredibly selfish in my writing this year (in the best way) and it’s been so inspiring also to see other people want to read it too! The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you) was something I didn’t think would garner much attention at all. A rarepair and a super silly trope? I thought whatever, I’m writing it for me, hopefully a couple others like it, and it got so much more positive attention than I thought. I’m so glad!

Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

Probably figuring out I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious)! I think I’ve mentioned before I was originally writing it as a lovesquare fic. I wrote it and rewrote it like six times before I thought, no, this should be about Adrien and Nino. And then it just clicked!

Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I have a secret wip in my docs I’ve talked about a couple times, but it’s a slowburn teenage adrino and I really would love to write all of it! I think I’m struggling to decide exactly what kind of story I want to tell and it’s making it hard to outline and write when I don’t have a clear end direction, but that’s something I’d definitely love to figure out.

And I’d love to get back into lovesquare, too! I have a few wips that I keep putting on the backburner but I really want to dust them off and finish them, and maybe start some new stuff. Writing my loveywalker fic was SO fun (if devastating) and I can’t believe it’s been months since I sat down and wrote lovesquare.

This isn't a direct writing goal, but I'm determined to comment more on fics I read. I love getting comments, and I don't leave them enough on the fics I love, and that's something I really want to change!

Anyone you would like to thank?

@kasienda and @flightfoot I think are tied for commenting on my fics, and it really means so much to have cheerleaders in my inbox!!! Especially writing adrino when readership is lower, it was a huge help to have people reading and commenting and cheering me on <3

@asukiess and @isabugs recently for screaming with me in general about this show! You’ve inspired me to write so much more… I can’t wait to be absolutely unhinged in 2024.

And all my commenters on ao3!! I don’t know everyone’s tumblr and couldn’t possibly tag them all but it means so much every time I get a comment. I wouldn’t be writing as much as I do without the direct support! Thank you!!!

#year in review #my writing #miraculous ladybug

[cutestkilla]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thank you for the tags @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @prettygoododds @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @hushed-chorus (and @orange-peony for the tag on the fic writer self rec post which I’m rolling in here because…I only have 4 fics). I have never answered one of these before because I’m always like, am I a fic writer? I don’t even have enough works of my own to do a top 5… But anyway, here goes.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9! But only 4 are my own fics + 1 collab (Birthday Man). Of the rest, 2 are collabs where I did the art, 1 is a fansong (also a collab), and 1 is a podfic.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

233,419, but adjusting for the works that aren’t mine and the words of Birthday Man that I did not write, it’s more like 190K.  

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Carry On!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This Is Your Place

Slamming and Smashing

What’s Left

Hiding Out In The Open

(see, only 4… And so @orange-peony this is my answer to the self rec post. I rec them all!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh yes! Commenting on other people’s fic was my door into participating in fandom. I spent months and months just lurking, and a whole new world opened up to me when I started commenting, and then the authors responded to me and suddenly I was interacting with people. I really love and appreciate the comment culture in our fandom, and I really like talking about my writing with people, so I always respond.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t have a fic with an angsty ending. YET. Realistically, will I ever? Probably not. Like @artsyunderstudy said, I love writing angst in every other possible part of a story EXCEPT the ending. I guess I could say This Is Your Place because the ending is open. The plot of 8th year has not been resolved at all (and god when I say it was hard for me to do that!), shit could still hit the fan, Baz doesn’t even know yet why his mother visited.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That would have to be What’s Left, I think. The story itself was pretty angst-laden (MCD is angsty, you don't say?). I wrote the fluffiest, bow-tying epilogue for the ending to the point where I even warned people that it may have no artistic merit relative to the rest of the story and they should feel free to skip it because it was 100% self indulgence on my part. But I have had a few folks tell me they were grateful for it as a palate cleanser after reading 120K of intense emotional stuff.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope. Not to my face anyway!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes… All of my fics are rated M or E for sexual content. What kind? I mean, 3 of my 4 fics have the tag “Rated M Like AWTWB Is Rated M” if that gives you a hint of my smut vibe. Emotional for sure, is what I am for. Even the smut in Slamming and Smashing, which is very much E, is pretty rooted in the emotion of the story. I do love reading every kind of smut, but the thing I really connect with in it is the emotion, so that’s what I write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Doubt it, except by a web scraper.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Only Birthday Man, which was written as a round robin and was a totally fun and freeing experience. Especially since I didn’t have to think about plot, just moving things forward a few inches. (Of course my part still ended up being longer than the average one-shot someone else would write…) I’ve collaborated with my writers on COBB and CORB projects in ways that influenced the story, which is SO FUN, but nothing I would ever elevate to the status of co-writing.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Snowbaz

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Well, I have about 17K of a canon divergence fic about Simon and Baz both being at a wedding the week before 8th year starts. (The wedding mentioned in canon as being the one where one of the Grimm cousins got into it with Premal’s friend Sam, and ended up being on trial for using banned words.) I really do want to finish it, but it was one of those projects I never had a deadline for, so it has languished. It’s fully outlined, though, so maybe one day…

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at characterization, making the characters’ actions internally consistent, bringing them from point A to point B in a believable way. Probably also plot, I do love a slow burn twisty turny plot reveal. And writing a solid Baz rant/meltdown!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The one thing I get anxious about sometimes is my inability to write short. (Hi @aristocratic-otter, my sister in long-form storytelling!) I always think I can do it, but then I’m not satisfied with the emotional journey unless I add more beats. Telling a concise story is a skill I envy in others for sure.

Currently, this is happening with my wip Hiding Out In The Open, which I originally (delusionally) though would be a one-shot and is now probably going to be 60K by the time I’m done. In fact, This Is Your Place and Slamming and Smashing were supposed to be one shots too, but they all went multi-chap on me in the end.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve never done this, except to help @artsyunderstudy with a French translation for some cute dialogue in Someone Wicked. I think it can work, but I tend toward always wanting to explain something like that on page, unless the point is for it to not be understood. But I've definitely read some really great takes on "lost in translation"!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This is it! What’s Left was the first piece of creative writing I did of any kind since the year 2000 (which funnily enough was first-person Jean-Paul Sartre RPF for my philosophy seminar).

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Definitely What’s Left. Never would have expected to fall so in love with writing the Humdrum, but he owns my soul, still. I think what I did there is probably the most interesting idea I will ever have (in this fandom at least), and that’s probably why it was so much easier to write than anything else I’ve attempted since.

So, who to tag in… How about @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @ivelovedhimthroughworse @iamamythologicalcreature @whatevertheweather @fatalfangirl? And anyone else who wants to share, please say I tagged you if you haven’t been tagged already.

#tag game #my writing

[autisticlancemcclain]

thank u @zenstrike for the tag <333333333 i see ur mic and i'm elated about it

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

185! but i haven't updated in like a week and a half so we're probably closer to 190

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

556,104. i am very excited to watch it jump up when i finally finish my longfic teehee

3. what fandoms do you write for?

literally just voltron lol. well not counting baby me's wattpad lol. i started writing almost two years ago and just went ham basically. i've been intentionally avoiding things that i know i will get hyperfixated on bc i don't want to stop my writing obsession lol

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

ooooou i'm excited to check. i know it's changed quite a bit over time. i usually sort them by hits!

i will grind you to sand (beneath my louboutin heels) [voltron, 2573 words]: bamf lance fic where i give him a revolver and let him go ham basically

mr. snuggles [voltron, 1656 words]: one of my very earliest fics! lance, lover of weirdo animals, finds a demonic cat-sized spider and adopts it despite his friend's freakouts

he might not look like he gets bitches (but honey that dick was eleven inches) [voltron, 1136 words]: this one is so dorky lol but it's just secret relationship klance coming to light in the most embarrassing possible way

does anyone know where the love of god goes (when the waves turn the minutes to hours) [voltron, 4283]: a canon divergence au where lance is a seer and convinces the skeptics on his team of his abilities by ending the war

this is the part of me that you're never gonna ever get away) [voltron, 3262 words]: a lance & shiro hurt/comfort with a small autistic lance character study! i'm very proud of this one

5. do you respond to comments?

i definitely do on tumblr! it's one of the first things i do when i wake up actually. on ao3, though...i'm pretty sure i have about eight hundred unanswered comments sitting in my inbox 💀 it's an ongoing issue

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm almost sure it's this post-game show lance leaving fic, because i got comments and asks for weeks begging me to write a happy ending lol. but this fic from the hana universe, from when keith is little and shiro is fighting for custody and they haven't figured things out yet. that one is sad. this dream pov adashi fic is also sad and has no happy ending bc, you know. shiro is in space and adam thinks he's dead and everything. my loneliest series is also still in progress and as such there is no happy ending. and this is my earliest angsty-ending fic with MCD

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh god pretty much everything i write has a happy ending?? if i’m being serious?? frankly i don’t do a lot of linear plot. i just write Scenes that are vaguely connected. BUT my h2o fic had a plot that ended happily, as did my cowboy fic, but truly i’m more of a slice of life kinda gal. all my active wips are plot-driven, though, and i plan for all of them to end happily.

8. do you get hate on fics?

oh god yeah. i get it on brown eyed lance, autistic lance, adhd keith, allura just in general (are you sensing a pattern), my refusal to use readmores, and lately just some demands for me to write differently/more?? most of it is just funny so i post it to goof on it lol, but some of it i just delete and pout about until i forget about it 💀

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes and it’s nasty and i will literally never ever post it. although i guess i’ve written some softer stuff that’s more allusion than anything, like in my loneliest series.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not anymore, but i did when i was a kid?? i think i wrote a pjo/hoo/divergent/the mortal instruments/homestuck/a bunch of other shit fic when i was 13. i’ve successfully blocked that era out of my mind tho so i’m not sure. i do a lot of insane aus, tho. i wrote a fic based off a country song written in the sixties. so.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i’ve had people write continuations of my wips?? which i didn’t rly like. i just ignored it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

someone has asked me about translating a fic before! haven’t heard anything since tho.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have tried. i’m not very good at it. i have very Specific ideas about things and can be very controlling, so it’s honestly better that i don’t lol.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

klance, easy. been in the trenches of this goddamn fandom since i was 13 years of age. it’s been a Journey.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

god, the butterfly effect. i get people asking me to update all the time and i genuinely feel bad, because i have absolutely no ideas or plans for it. i might try to come up with an ending of some kind?? but i wrote that like two years ago, so i have changed a LOT about my writing since then.

16. what are your writing strengths?

dialogue and humour, i think. and sometimes writing lack of emotional communication (if that makes sense — i like to try and write around an emotion).

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i over explain a lot. and i overuse dialog ur tags sometimes. i have a Very Specific scene playing out in my head and i want everyone else to see it like i’m seeing it, which is my downfall a lot. i’ve been trying to work on implicit stage directions.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think sometimes it’s necessary? it can be a good tool for humour, like with cussing that can’t be achieved in english. but while i understand and read several languages i have always always struggled to speak or write in them. it’s very frustrating so i often avoid the subject entirely lol.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i’ve been writing fanfic in my head since before i knew what it was, but i started typing things at around 11 when i used to homestuck roleplay with my friends lol. messy messy times.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh i am my own target audience. i have several.

i need a man (who’s patient and kind): keith-centric post canon (divergence) fic where lance takes him to his family and keith is good with kids and just keith being loved is the whole point. always.

what if i lose it all: an alternate universe where lance, as a baby, loses both his parents, and then is raised by his oldest siblings. in luis’ pov.

when does a ripple become a tidal wave (when does the reason become the flame): brogane fight & angst canon divergence post season 6; covering shiro’s guilt complex and keith’s unwavering loyalty

he’s into superstitions (black cats and voodoo dolls): halloween verse with witch lance and vampire keith! i have barely spoken about this au on here but rest assured i’m thinking about it all the fucking time

the applebee’s universe: modern au with young keith and lance learning how to love each other

ceilings (plaster): non-linear dream-like fic that’s just so trippy and strange i’m obsessed with it

if the sky comes falling down (for you) there’s nothing in this world i wouldn’t do: a keith character study about how the biggest bleeding heart in the universe loves

the hana universe: brogane-centric universe as their family starts rocky and grows

thank u again for the tag zen <33 open offer for anyone else who would like to hop on!!

#writer games #? #info #tag game #longpost

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @destielbuddiepipeline before it was even Wednesday for me. But now that I've actually been to bed and had some coffee, I was inspired by Temptation Tuesday and started this bad boy (just for @destielbuddiepipeline bc they got super excited for it, which made me excited so I put words to the screen.)

This is my Buck is an NFL quarterback and in a secret longterm relationship with Eddie, who is the newest member of the 118. Chim and the others are really curious about their new team member who has years of experience, shares little about his personal life, and never works a shift when the L.A. Rams have a home game.

“HOLY SHIT!” Chimney shouts the moment the tweet pops up in his notifications. ESPN and the NFL app follow shortly after with the same breaking news.  One of the top quarterbacks in the league was coming to L.A. on a blockbuster trade.

“Put ESPN on!” Chimney demands as he pushes himself away from the kitchen table and quickly shuffles his way over to the lounge area.

Jefferson doesn’t hesitate and immediately changes the channel from the Bones rerun to a panel of sport analyst of ESPN.  Scrolling across the very bottom of the screen read, “Breaking News: Evan Buckley traded! Headed to Los Angeles Rams!”

“Oh my god! Our chances at the Super Bowl just skyrocketed!” Chimney exclaims in pure delight.  High fives are spread all around with those who actually appreciated the Rams.

In the distance a phone rings in the captain’s office.

“It’s official.” Maddie says over the phone. Eddie hums, watching the muted ESPN channel as the panel of several sports’ analyst freak out over the block buster trade. “And you’ve given your notice? To both districts?”

“Yea. Captain Royce is sad to see me go but thinks the change of scenery would do me good. Which I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.” Eddie answers.

Maddie is silent for a moment.  She was probably remembering how Eddie almost lost his life during rescue attempts after Hurricane Harvey. Or maybe she remembers the nasty custody battle he went through with Shannon just before she was killed in a hit and run. There was also Buck’s leg injury that almost ended his career and Maddie’s ex-husband trying to kill her only to end up dead himself.  There were several not-so-great memories wrapped up in Houston, but neither of them actually says it out loud.

But yea, the change of scenery would be good for all of them. The Texans just weren’t the team for Buck anymore and the L.A. Rams were just on the precipice of another Super Bowl run.  They believed Buck was one of only a handful of missing pieces to make it happen and Eddie could see by February next year Buck hoisting the Lombardi.

“LAFD is one of the top fire departments in the country.  They’ll be lucky to have you.” Maddie finally says.

Eddie laughs, “Well they may be just a little too excited. I’ve already been assigned a house even though we won’t be out there until end of May.”

“Oh? Which house?”

“118 with Captain Robert Nash.”

Ya'll I even made a fake tweet with an actual sports person who basically has all the inside information for the NFL. He always breaks the big NFL news first. This will probably end up being a long one shot. The timeline is an odd mix of canon 9-1-1 and actual NFL events mixed all together.

Also it pains me greatly to make another NFL team so amazing and win the Super Bowl that isn't the Kansas City Chiefs. But since they won this year, the pain is less.

Tagging: @ebdaydreamer @buddiefication

#911 fox #911 fic #buddie fic #eddie díaz #evan buck buckely #chimney han #maddie buckley #quarterback Buck #nfl #firefighter eddie #los angeles rams #911 au #wip wednesday #my wips #fake tweets

[ofmermaidstories]

Let me preface this by saying I did check your FAQ but I didn't see this there yet I still find it hard to believe no one has asked you this at least a thousand times so if they did and I just missed it I'm sorry and you can delete this ask but—

You write such beautiful, detailed fics with lots of foreshadowing that often starts from the very beginning of the story. I think you made an author note once about only posting the first chapter of a fic after you've written the whole thing (or maybe that was Andie...?). If so, is the time between updates just you going through and rereading / editing like 100k words?

Basically, I want to ask: what is your fic planning process like? From the moment you get a first idea to posting the last chapter, what does I look like? I think you're a really, really amazing (one of the absolute best if not THE best) author but I cannot fathom how one human being can write such mammoths of fanfiction and stay motivated enough to finish them.

Also you're already planning Halloween stuff ?? You plan things literally half a year in advance?? Are you even human? We don't deserve you. 😭

You called yourself lazy in the webcomic post but I think you must work unbelievably hard to make such high quality stuff and without even getting compensation for it. You're amazing and I'm very thankful to exist in the right timeline and fandom to read your work. :,)

(oh my god this became such a ramble I'm sorry)

Oh Ari. 🥺 Hello.

I update as I write! So that was probably Andie, lmao, who’s definitely the better example to follow when it comes to plotting/completing a fic. 🥺 She’s amazing and if I could fashion myself after any other writer in our niche, it would be Andie hands down!

But okay, let’s get into it. 📝

A little disclaimer, before we start; I did not go to school for any of this lmfao. The most relevant education I have behind me is a extra-circular literature class I had during my last two years of high-school. The only reason the following works for me is because I’ve cobbled it together from years of trial and error. You can read advice and watch youtube videos about the writing habits of famous authors, but you have to tailor everything you hear to suit you and the way you work. The best advice in the world from the highest paid author in the world won’t work if you’re not wired in the same way! You have to take everything about yourself and what you like and what you want into account!

Part I—first we take Manhattan

start ur fic lol

First thing’s first; I’m a plotter. I don’t pants. If I pants, I lose interest—I need to have the final vision in front of me, even if it’s just a bullet point. I have to know what I’m working towards. That is crucial to literally everything I do. Every fic you see on AO3, every WIP I’ve mentioned working on or wanting to work on—I have always known two things about them, immediately: the hook that gets us in there, and how they end.

So for fics in particular, the start might look something like—I get an idea (I want Reader and Bakugou to kiss). And then I sit there and I brainstorm to myself (What’s stopping them from kissing? Why does Reader want to kiss someone so rude when there’s so many other nice boys out there? Is Reader particularly kissable?). And then, if I’m lucky, I think of an ending (Reader and Bakugou finally kiss, but he’s the one that initiates it, because he’s always wanted to, because he likes that Reader always wears a yellow coat to work—it’s ugly and it sticks out among the black and tan ones of the crowd but he comes to associate it—and thus Reader—with routine and his mornings going well).

This is often the most fragile time of an idea. That hook (Reader and Bakugou kiss) might fall apart with a bit more prodding (why would they kiss? Reader’s a stranger to him; most of us don’t go around kissing random strangers just because we like their coats). Or maybe the hook sticks (they spend almost years in orbit around each other, a constant near-miss) but the ending doesn’t work (I don’t know how to move Bakugou to a position where he can kiss Reader, where he has the opportunity to). For every idea you see in action, or listed, there’s like three more that died during this stage and are now being cannibalised for spare parts.

Part II—running up that hill (a deal with fic)

work work work

If our idea survives, we then move to the “throw everything at the wall and see what sticks” stage; which manifests itself in this case as a doc, where I’ll just write any and all ideas I have for this little world so far.

For fanfics, it’ll generally look like—

TITLE

SUMMARY: Bakugou and Reader kiss.

(in which Bakugou first notices you because of your ugly yellow coat)

📝 Reader is allergic to diary products; for ages Bakugou thinks of her as That Cheesy Extra, because of the colour of her coat. She laughs when she eventually learns about this. (“I can’t even eat cheese,” you complain)

📝 Reader stops walking past the coffee shop Bakugou gets his coffee at, one day; moves??? Leaves the city to help a friend out for a few months. Despite himself it throws Bakugou off-kilter, and when he sees someone (not Reader) in a yellow coat during a villian attack, he momentarily loses focus—gets injured???? The news of his injury makes the news, Reader sees it in Bumblah nowhere.

📝 Her coat is donated accidentally by a roommate, in a mix up, for a charity she’s volunteering at; when Reader returns to the city, she has to make do with a new one, a more neutral colour. Bakugou recognises her anyway and that’s when he realises it was never about the coat (!!!!)

Like, this is actually a pretty good approximation of what all my current fics have looked like, at that stage, before I tidied them up and refined them into proper outlines. Because that’s what will happen next, once we have a rough idea of what we want! Things get moved, or removed—tightened. A rough plot outline takes shape! If I get any ideas for a sequel or a spin off that I might want to do, I’ll note them here (Reader’s roommate, Roomie, who’s working at a charity—eventually meets Shinsou, who’s working on a case. She thinks he’s homeless; he doesn’t realise. They carry on like this for a while.)

Once I have a rough outline (rough meaning in bulletpoints), I’ll start on my more in-depth outlines—I do these chapter by chapter! I say this a lot, but they’re basically a really rough version of said chapter. So it might look like:

Reader’s walking to work; it’s cold enough that’s she’s wearing her coat. There’s a new coffee-shop opened on the corner—it’s full, popular, you think it might be because it’s at a crossroads between two different Pro Hero agencies. Reader glances at the window, interested, but then a friend calls out and you hurry along. Bakugou, inside the coffee-shop waiting for Half and Half to get his order, is affronted; your coat is ugly as shit, and he complains loudly about it to Shouto, who mentions something about Baku. having no room to complain about ugly colour choices.

The swap between Reader/You happens a lot because I’m not using my brain properly, at this stage—I’m just shovelling the sand I need into the sandbox. Once I finish my shovelling, I go back and I rewrite it—but better, LMAO. I flesh things out, I throw things away as needed, I add things in. It’s basically really, really intensive handholding and I would not recommend it for anyone who’s already daunted by the idea of plotting; I do it because if I don’t have a chaperone there (aka my outline) then I’m prone to getting distracted. I am basically the fanfic equivalent of the undiagnosed ADHD kid at the back of the class that only gets work done when they’re sat right in front of the teacher (and even then, there’s like a 50% chance it’s not actually work that’s happening but doodles of that weird pointy S thing over and over again).

Once it’s done, though, we have a completed chapter! I then post it and wait like a little crab under some rocks for people to be tricked into being nice to me, and then I dig back in and think nice thoughts about repeating this process to get chapter two. Eventually I will—and viola! Another chapter! We repeat that over and over until we get to the end of our original outline and we have a finished story. 😌📖

Part III—you’re on your own kid

motivation

No one ever likes this part, or what I’m about to say, because at best it sounds like saccharine fodder and at worse it’s out of touch with most people’s experiences in fandom, but—the only way to stay motivated when doing a long-haul fic is that you have to do it for yourself.

People are so kind to me, about the fics I’ve done; it’s part luck and part what I choose to write and part how I write it. And I mean—I share them because I want a little bit of attention, lmao, that’s natural because we’re humans, we all want attention. But here’s the thing, here’s the secret—I take these fics 110% deadly seriously. LOL. That sounds like a joke, but I do! I do that because it’s how I’m built and how I keep myself interested in them—because taking them seriously means I’m more invested in realising the ending I’ve imagined for them since day one.

If other people stopped being so nice about what I was writing, I would be sad—anyone would. 🥺 We all want to be told that we’ve done a good job. But I’ve had the ending for the Deku fic, for example, in my head since it’s predecessor was on-going. That is literal years of knowing how I want Izuku and Scribble’s story to end. If everyone disappeared tonight I would sulk, hardcore, and then I would finish that last chapter anyway. I would finish it because I’ve spent so much time and energy working on that story that not finishing it is a disservice to the world I built around those characters and most importantly to myself. I probably wouldn’t stress as much about it, LOL, if the audience shrunk back down to just me, but I’d still do it. 🥺

I write—and try to finish—these fics because I deserve to see them finished. I want the completed tick, on ao3. I want to look at it and know that I can do it—that I can start something as simple as Bakugou hating on some rando’s yellow coat, and bring it to the finish-line where they finally come together, and see each other, without the yellow coat or through a coffee-shop window.

And this is what I mean by like, tailoring things to suit you—because I know others might be perfectly content to imagine the ending for themselves, without writing it. Or maybe they don’t want to treat fic seriously, because it’s fun escapism. Maybe disappointment that it’s not received like they thought it would be sours the whole experience of fandom for someone—there’s no right or wrong to this. I know I can write for an audience of just me because I’ve done it before. The satisfaction has always come back to the same thing—knowing I finished it, and wrapped that world up as best as I could. You have to pick and choose your poison—and then you have to run with it.

I hope that answers at least some of your questions, Ari. 🥺 Thank-you for such a thoughtful ask; for being so sweet. 🥺 You’re amazing, and I’m the thankful one—I’m glad we’re here, together. 🌷🌾✨📖

#ofmermaidstories-asks #ari do i have a tag for you? 🧐 hmMMMm #anyways i hope you have a good week and that this was at least a tiny bit helpful lmao #i should link it…. ugh i should overdo my whole masterpost tbh 😩 this is where the lazy comes in bc id rather stare at my wall tbh LMAO #first we take manhattan—then we take berlin 🎵 #writing stuff

[philtstone]

Aditha/nandini jacket

AFTER A MILLION YEARS I FINIALLY FINISHED THIS set in this verse and a prequel to the silly asides in this fic. a mix of book and movie canon as usual! for those who responded to my wip poll im sorry i ignored literally all of your votes and instead worked on "in which vandiyadevan is trapped in the toilet" but it ended up working out for everyone (me and the 2 mutuals reading this) so whos laughing NOW anyway apologies in advance for any cultural errors or general incoherency; its one in the morning and maya is in a different time zone. i had to google things! also none of this is serious. enjoy!

Evening is cooler than Nandini expected.

After the tumultuous heat of Poonghuzhali’s van, and the station, and the day, and the week — well, she did not anticipate shivering in the dark outside this dormitory. The leather motorcycle jacket she so pointedly wore in the blistering sun now, a week later, lies untouched beside her. They have had three stare-offs in the last twenty minutes, she and the jacket. She cannot bring herself to put it on; the idea leaves a queer feeling in her belly that she doesn’t care to examine. 

The dormitory itself is a relatively humble one, considering the wealth of its former occupant’s family. More a boy’s hostel than the kind of lodging the Cholas might secure for their most beloved child. Arunmozhi seems completely unbothered by the state of it. He grins widely at the orange toned walls, scuffed, and the low doors, slamming open and shut at intervals (though less now, so late into the night), and the general ruckus of the boys who greet them. They were all but cheering in welcome of their former dorm mate and his mismatched band of traveling companions, needing a place to avoid the authorities and – impossibly – his Uncles’ and her fathers’ spies, last minute. There was a lot of hugging that went around, at any rate. It’s not quite an elder siblingish relationship, Nandini thinks, though she is absurdly then struck by the question of whether the benign, chummy, kindly way Arunmozhi interacts with the younger boys is patterned after the way his own — that is to say, he has an older br — oooh.

Nandini does not want to think about it.

Just as well, because she’s many other, marginally less useless things to think of.

She is thinking of these things quite obsessively, in matter of fact. Scientific observation would suggest a verge on neuroticism. So it goes in Nandini’s head: oh, Lord, My Mother. She is Here. I’ve met Her. She is Alive after all, and so Beautiful, and so Fucking Weird. 

(The capitalizations are quite manifest in her own thoughts). 

If anyone else were to say the last she’d box them, but God it is true, and Nandini is nearly brought to happy tears by the realness of her mother’s strangeness. Her mother is exactly the same height as she. Her ears are not pierced. She favours her left leg, while Nandini favours neither, but when she walks she sways her hips in much the same way Nandini does when she is not thinking about it. She has hair which is nearly the same length and weight and texture, and it curls around the ears such that it must tickle – Nandini has much experience with this. Her mother’s fingers taper off as hers do; the nail beds are the same; her mother’s chin dimples against her neck in a way Nandini has always felt insecure about in herself. They have a mole in the same spot on their arm; Nandini’s left toe has a bunion near identical to the left toe of her mother; the bottom row of her mother’s teeth lay the same; her mother’s breasts are not very small, but not overly large either, and sit in the same position Nandini's do; her cheeks possess vestiges of the same roundness; her elbow wrinkles in the same way; her eyebrows are a bit unkempt in the middle, like Nandini’s were when she was a child and could not be bothered with their upkeep.

How strange it is! To see your own face so clearly in another. The slope of her nose — the curve of her mouth — the way her hair falls. Nandini wonders if this is what she will look like when she is old. She wonders if she is what her mother looked like when she was young. Surely the answer is yes. They are now inseparable in her mind, she and her mother, and it is overwhelming. She does not even need a father anymore; he has been axed from the equation. She has a mother. She knows her mother! 

And when she saw her mother for the first time, cheerfully led out of the very mundane, uninspired Thanjai local jail, her mother knew her. Nandini had stood, transfixed, as Mandakini had touched her gently on the cheek, just so, and began to cry quiet little tears that slipped down her cheeks like they were the simplest thing in the world for her to give, to feel, to shed.

Nandini has always hated crying. Real crying, anyway; she is an expert fake crier, as anyone successful in the world of Tamil soaps must be. But real crying is snotty and uncontrollable and undignified. 

Nandini thinks (she has been thinking all evening – it is really getting to be bad for her health) that is what makes her mother at once so unfamiliar, too.

There is so much tenderness in her face. Even without words (Nandini is so very good with words, honeyed and poisoned and flat and querulous, even, rarely, honest) her mother tells the world of her love. For her daughter (who craves it so badly); for Arunmozhi (who despite Nandini’s earliest assumptions seems to know he must earn it, however freely it is given); for simply living, it seems. Nandini cannot understand this last part. Life has been on whole pretty miserable, for her mother. What right does it have to her love? 

Nandini does not think she could ever love like that. 

She’s seated and steeped in these ruminations on the topmost step of the dusty concrete facing the dormitory courtyard; behind her must be the toilets, for there is a light on inside one of them, and in front of her is a small garden decorated with scraggly trees which housed the mango-stealing monkey who had earlier been tormenting the dorm’s inhabitants, and a little walking path. Earlier, in the dark, she saw Arunmozhi and her mother (her mother!) start off on a little walk along the path. She supposes it does make sense; they have not seen each other in a while, and he has explained to her how Mandakini saved him from that lake, and that rickshaw, and also his own slippery bathtub once in this very same dorm. They’re old pals: Nandini knew this going into the venture. He knows sign language and everything, and can communicate with her far better than Nandini can. So it makes sense that they must now catch each other up – she on why the police inspector was bribed to arrest her (this is still a little muddy) and he on his future career plans (vague) and current family business rescue plans (hairbrained and relying too much on the goodwill of Nandini herself, if she’s being honest). But watching them go, arm in arm, signing animatedly at one another left a strange ache in her heart. That was a while ago. Bits of the yard are illuminated by the light from one or two dorm windows, but on whole, it is past curfew, and therefore dark; Nandini is more or less alone with her thoughts and also the noise from the city beyond the wall. 

Being alone, she has spent the last thirty seconds staring sightlessly at some invisible point in front of her, eyes the size of saucers, spiraling.

“Erm – ahem.”

Nandini startles so badly her bangle-clad wrist nearly knocks into her own nose.

Aditha Karikalan has never been particularly tall. When they were teenagers there was a brief month where she had an inch on him. Right now, however, he stands above her such that she has to look up, and once more notice the fact that he does carry himself with a kind of dignified height. Which Nandini appreciates. Or did appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. The last week has been quite a lot of everything. He wears a loose linen button down in a bright orange pattern open over a t-shirt, and a simple dhoti clumsily tied (she remembers the rare time he wore one in school, when they weren’t wearing their uniforms, she had helped him tie it), and sandals, and his wrists are sporting a nice fancy watch but they’re also covered in enough bead bracelets that, paired with his hair – unruly and wild and long as ever – he really does look far more the part of children’s camp counselor than first son of any kind of business mogul-cum-politician. 

Which Nandini appreciates. Or could appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. A week ago, she would have very deliberately said, well, and what does a camp counselor make, anyway – I want to be a Bollywood actress, and glared him down out of spite. 

The last week really has been a lot of everything.

Anyway; she stares at him. Amidst her up-til-now very private spiraling.

Her mother her mother her mother her mother oh she is so known but so unknown oh they cannot love the same oh perhaps Nandini cannot love at all oh that must mean that must mean must it mean? that she, Nandini, well could she be broken is that what her mother sees surely she sees –

“I just – well. There’s the – the restroom is right there. So I’d come to …” And here Aditha stops his terribly uncomfortable and verging on comical awkward explanation, tilts his head – some immaterial spark of understanding happening in his sharp lovely eyes – and says, in an abortedly gruff tone that does very little to prevent what happens next,  “Nandini … are you – alright?”

Nandini, rather unexpectedly, begins blubbering. Loudly.

Her face crumples in on itself. Her shoulders hunch inward. Her nose gets snotty and her throat clogs up. And in general, she makes a very pathetic sort of hiccupy wailing noise, which she had not planned for.

“Shit,” says Aditha above her, after a moment of stunned silence. “Fuck, okay – Nandini? Well, you shouldn’t cry – come on, pull it together. The toilets are right there, look, someone’s even using them. Uh – well – alright, alright. It’s alright.”

None of his stammered, asinine condolences register much in Nandini’s ears. She is just very overwhelmed. It is only after a moment of her crying, sat on her rump outside the men’s toilets, that the stiff, chilly awkwardness of the night air changes, and there is a person quite suddenly beside her, and then not just beside her at all, but holding her – his arms carefully wrapped around her shoulders, his warm chest a perfect distance from her cheek, his large hands flattening clumsily over her back. Their knees bump together, and it isn’t very graceful at all – she refuses to move, so he must lean over ungainingly, and is probably quite uncomfortable doing it. 

Nandini cries into Aditha’s shoulder for five or ten minutes. He only pats her back stupidly once, at the start, and by the end of it, it is a proper embrace, and they are even rocking back and forth just a little.

It’s nice.

Presently, Nandini’s tears slow, and she registers the position she is in more properly. Whole-bodily, in fact. She had not expected that her body’s memory would slip back into this embrace so easily, and the realization is disquieting. She does not move, and Aditha does not move – she wonders if he is having the same panicked, wary thoughts – and so they sit in a stupid little impasse, hugging, for another two minutes. 

It’s getting to the point where she is noticing his cologne, so Nandini decides it is high time to pull herself together; she sits up, wiping at the snot on her face, and pretends her stomach is not in knots. A lopsided roll of toilet paper materializes in front of her nose. Oh – Aditha is holding it. She eyes it like a ticking bomb. It’s a bit squashed, like it was in his pocket. He must have brought it with him, earlier, which means he really did mean to use the bathroom, which means he hadn’t actually sought her out – 

Had he? He’s still holding her, sort of, and Nandini is terribly disoriented to realize that it is not an abhorrent sort of feeling, as she has very deliberately imagined it would be in the past, when hosting her more elaborate and vindictive daydreams in which she supposed they might reunite, not because she missed him badly but because she nursed ongoing fantasies of holy vengeance; all of those ended with her dumping a bucket of slop over his head. Instead, she has stopped feeling a decent measure of her earlier anxiety, and is breathing more normally now, and the rapidity of her thoughts have veered away from the breakneck pace of before. 

That could just be the crying. Her brother used to say that a tender weeping was good for one’s spirit. 

Nandini’s lip wobbles again; she misses Nambi, and is overwhelmed with a trickling feeling of shame – hadn’t she just left him, for so many months, and ignored all his overly-formal emails? 

The idea of emails makes her remember she has not sent a mildly threatening missive (subject line: I Know You Know Something About Mandakini Nolastname) from her ghost account to Sundura Chola in a while, and then that makes her think, well, it’s pointless now – her stalwart ally Arnunmozhi won’t have any reason to give her gently reproachful looks re: her long term haunting of his invalid father anymore – she’s found her mother – and then she is re-visited, very strongly, at once, by the dual reality of oh God her mother and oh God, Aditha is holding me.

Fuck, she needs to blow her nose.

“Here,” comes Aditha’s low voice, as though he’s read her mind. Which of course he hasn’t. But still. He tears off a piece of the toilet paper for her. Nandini trembles, and does not know whether she ought to lean in closer, or pull away entirely. She can feel his heartbeat against her shoulder, and while Nandini does not have a lot of experience with the biological sciences, it is beating rather more quickly than the average human heart ought to be.

“Oh,” she says, taking the tissue on autopilot. She dabs at her face, which must surely be smeared in kajol by now, and then her nose, which is probably ugly and red.

Good thing it’s so late at night.

After she’s done, because there doesn’t seem anything better to do – the alternative is getting up and fleeing, and Nandini is not a coward – she turns and stares at him.

Aditha clears his throat and scuffs one foot into the dirt at their feet, but he doesn’t look away. He’s grown a beard. She noticed this first thing last week. He never had one before.

“It’s just,” Nandini says, again on autopilot, “-- my mother.”

Ah, her mother. Poonghuzhali had demonstrated a very rare bout of tearful emotion and Arunmozhi his by now expected kindly friendship; Vandiyadevan had slipped her extra clementines after his grocery run and even Kundavai had been looking at her more gently than usual all afternoon. 

Until now, Aditha had been avoiding her. At her words his expression flickers, oddly, a shade of genuine concern colouring his face, before settling into something not quite effortless in its knowing but careful and gentle. She’d forgotten that he could look at her like that. It’s different now, just a little bit. The Look from before was more boyish, and the look now has a kind of sadness to it that makes it feel more real. Maybe it’s the beard. Unease fills her chest again, tenses up her hands. What must he be thinking? Why did he go about all day avoiding her? Alright, so she has also been avoiding him – all week now, to be sure – but – but –

“It must be really strange,” he says suddenly. His voice is deeper than before but not by much. She has not noticed this until right now, because they are sitting so closely and he is speaking quite softly. “Finding – finding someone who is so like you, all of a sudden.”

Whatever was on the verge of backflipping in the pit of Nandini’s stomach sours. Her chin trembles; she looks away. “I suppose.”

“Can’t really prepare for it, I guess.”

She sniffs. “I’ve been looking for months,” she says, more pointedly than perhaps she means. Looking does not equal preparation; the person she was in that Sri Lankan library was not entirely well, let alone prepared. Nandini is woman enough to acknowledge this. To herself, anyway. 

“It’s – it’s funny really,” he continues, deliberately gruff again, but not with the awkwardness of before; it’s more sincere now, roughened with honesty, yet in a way that is entirely oblivious to Nandini’s chin wobbles, “I can’t really understand what she’s saying half the time,” he rubs at his knee with one free hand, “but you know what I’ll tell you – I don’t think – well, I’ve never seen anyone with the same sort of sweetness in their face.” 

“As what,” croaks Nandini.

He looks at her strangely. Nightlife honks and buzzes past the dorm walls, cocooning them. “As you,” he says, like she is being stupid.

Nandini flushes deep from within. No – he must be lying. Hadn’t he called her a poisonous witch just last week? 

She supposes he must have meant that, but she knows Aditha well, and she knows when he is lying, even now – she has come to know, through many a painful altercation (the witch thing, and also she has threatened to kill him a few times) – and she resolves that whatever he meant last week, right now, he is also being honest. She feels somewhat dizzy. The urge to bolt is real. He, too, is looking a bit terrified, like maybe he did not exactly plan to say that in so many words, or maybe he had but now that it is out in the open he’s realizing it sounds a lot more – a lot more – than anticipated. 

“Have you really watched my show?” Nandini blurts out, more loudly than she means to. 

If Aditha’s eyes were wide already, they widen even further in alarm. This was a tidbit Vandiyadevan gave away two days ago; she thinks Aditha has still not forgiven him. He stammers,

“It was the only thing on TV,” with very little bravado. But then, before Nandini’s chest can deflate, as though shaking himself he says, more resolutely, “well, what was I supposed to do? That one scene of yours went viral on Twitter and the aunties at camp – who know very little about acting, may I add – just repeated what they read, blah blah blah like twittering little quails, but I am an educated person, Nandini, and a role model for children, and I have to investigate my news for myself –”

“Thank you for the tissue,” Nandini interrupts, because if she keeps her mouth occupied, then maybe that will quell its urge to spread into a large smile – maybe even emit a hysteric giggle or two – as if it’s forgotten that she only went into dead-end television acting in the first place because of the Veera Pandiyan scandal –

How much of that was really Aditha’s fault, though?

Nandini’s heart thumps rapidly. Now she’s really being crazy. Think of your mother again, girl. Go back to blubbering or something. Aditha blinks at her a few times. The light is pretty dim (they are lit from behind), but just enough that she can see the flush on his neck and ears. Have they been this close the whole time? 

“You – you were shivering when I got here,” he manages, instead of answering. “It’s kind of cold, isn’t it?”

Nandini is not shivering now. In fact, the place where his arm is still held against her back is so warm she thinks she could doze off in contentment just leaned up against him, if not for the fact that her stomach is doing gymnastics beneath the crop of her top. She nods anyway.

“I will be fine.”

“You should wear your jacket,” he says, roughly.

Nandini blinks. “Oh – no, I can’t. That’s yours.”

She isn’t looking for a reaction, per se; the words just sort of come out. She can very well see the bob of his throat, though, and the slight inhale he takes – his chest moves against her shoulder – before he says,

“Come on, Nandu, it was a gift.”

Nandini is overcome by a very strong urge to scream. Or swoon. If she had ever had reasons for wanting to kill him, she’s forgotten them just now. In fact it is very easy to forget the existence of everything around them – her lingering fragility about her mother, or the fact that they are right out in the wide open air, and there’s the real possibility that Kundavai of all bloody people will interrupt them. All these are things entirely immaterial, because unbidden her hand has moved up to press gently against Aditha’s chest, and she can clearly feel the rough pad of his thumb against the bare skin of her back, and they really are sitting so very close – a puff of his breath brushes against her cheek – and her heart goes thump thump thump thump so loudly she can’t really hear anything else.

His eyes have dropped to her mouth. “Nandini, love …” he starts, in a murmured, involuntary whisper.

Nandini tilts her head so very slightly closer …

Bang! 

If it is possible for two people to jump a foot apart while still being seated, Nandini and Aditha achieve this. Behind them, in the spilling light of the open bathroom door, lounges the person of Vandiyadevan, who is doing a very bad job at putting on suave and chill airs. Faintly, there is the sound of a toilet flushing behind him.

“No one could have guessed how badly this door sticks, eh?” he says loudly, holding up a roll of paper not unsimilar to Aditha’s. He tries and fails to adjust his footing, stumbling sideways a little into the door frame and then giving them both the finger guns. “Well! Beautiful night. Don’t mind me, carry on!”

���Vandiyadevan,” Aditha’s voice filters into her ears distantly, like it is coming from very far away. “How – long … have you been in there?”

“I was using the facilities! What, can’t a man take a piss after a long day’s honest espionage –? Ayyo! Wait, no, I promise I’m leaving!”

“That’s not the – we weren’t doing anything –!” Nandini hears Aditha splutter out in a strangled yell.

Which is just as well, too, because by the time he has turned back around, she is already gone, bangles clinking as she flees, scrambled away to hide behind the dark corner of the building’s edge, where stands frozen and with her eyes squeezed shut, while her errant, traitorous heart tries its damndest to beat right out of her chest.

#who cares about coherent plot when you can have lovers to enemies to lovers ft Theyre Both Idiots The Whole Run Of The Thing Too #lovenemidiots to lovers. even #ponniyin selvan #aditha karikalan #nandini #aditha x nandini #vandiyadevan #HOPE U LIKE IT MAYA #also in case it wasn’t very clear aditha and nandini have Never Kissed there are no two people on earth who radiate virgin energy more #i came so close to having aditha call nandini Nandi. SO close #the girls who get it get it…