how to write fanfic

imjustafuckinggirl  asked:

So, I don't know how to write pain like! What words do I use? how do I describe it! I really need some help here!

No problem! And sorry about not answering sooner, I was on vacation. To make it up to you, I’ve made one of my trademark Long Posts about it.


TIPS ON HOW TO WRITE PAIN (FOR BOTH ORIGINAL CONTENT WRITERS AND FANFICTION WRITERS)

When I first started writing, about eight years ago, I had the same issue as @imjustafuckinggirl.

How are you supposed to write about pain you’ve never experienced before???

The characters in my book suffer through all sorts of terrible shit, and in no way am I writing from experience, which is marginally easier to do than write about something that has never happened to you.

However, with time, I managed to gather up a few strategies on how to write pain.

1. Don’t Write Paragraphs About It

I know, it’s tempting. You want to convey to the reader just how much pain the character is in, and you think that the pain will be emphasized the more you write about it.

This, however, is a lie.

As a reader, when I’m reading a book or fanfiction where, whenever the writer uses agonizingly long paragraphs to describe when a character is hurt, I skip it.

Entirely.

It’s boring and, quite frankly, unnecessary, especially during a fight or huge battle, which are supposed to be fast-paced.

When it comes to writing about pain, it really is about quality and not quantity.

In my own writing, I stick to short, quick paragraphs, some of them which are barely a line long. This gives it a faster pace and sort of parallels with the scattered, spread out thoughts of the character as they suffer.

2. Describe it Right

Many times, usually in fanfiction, writers over-exaggerate certain injuries.

This partially has to do with the fact that they’ve never experienced that injury before and are just thinking about what it might feel like.

As a girl with two brothers and who often participated in rough play-fights, I can assure you that getting punched is not as painful as you think it is.

(However, it does depend on the area, as well as how hard the punch is, on top of the fact that you have to take into account whether or not the punch broke bones)

I’m reading a high school AU where a character gets punched by a bully (Idk where they got punched it wasn’t stated) and the author is describing it like they’d been shot.

It was to the point where I was like Did the bully have brass knuckles or something????

It was very clear that this author had never been punched before.

When describing the pain of an injury or the injury itself, you have to take into account:

- What object was used to harm the character

- Where the injury is

- How long the character has had the injury

- (For blades) How deep the cut is

- (For blunt force trauma) How hard the hit was

- Whether or not the wound triggers other things (Ex: Concussion, vomiting, dizziness, infection, internal/external bleeding).

There’s also the fact that when some authors described wounds caused by blades such as knives, daggers, and swords, they never take into account the anatomy of a person and which places cause the most blood flow.

Obviously, a cut on your cheek will have less of a blood flow than a cut on your wrist, depending on what the blade hits, and I hope that everyone consults a diagram of veins, capillaries, arteries, etc. when they’re describing blood flow from a certain place.

There’s also the fact that you have to take into account where the blood is coming from. Veins? Arteries?

The blood from arteries will be a brighter red, like vermilion, than the blood from veins, which is the dark crimson everyone likes to talk about.

Not all places gush bright red blood, people!

3. DIFFERENT INJURIES HAVE DIFFERENT KINDS OF PAIN

Here, let me explain.

A punch feels different from a slap.

A broken arm feels different from getting stabbed.

A fall feels different from a dog bite.

I’ll give you a list of all the kinds of things that can be described for the three most common kinds of injuries that happen in stories:

Punch/Blunt Force Trauma

How it feels:

- Aching

- Numbness (In the later stages)

- A single spike of pain before it fades into an ache

- Throbbing

Effects:

- Vomiting (If the character is punched in the gut)

- Swelling

- Bruising

- Broken bones

- Unconsciousness (Blow to the head)

- Dizziness (Blow to the head)

- Concussion (Also a blow to the head)

- Internal bleeding

- Death (In the case of concussions and internal bleeding and broken bones- ribs can pierce lungs)

Stab Wound/Cut

How it feels:

- Stinging (only shallow wounds have just stinging)

- Burning

- With stab wounds, I feel like describing the effects of it make it more powerfully felt by the reader

Effects:

- Bleeding (Consult chart of the circulatory system beforehand for the amount of blood flow that should be described and what color the blood should be)

- Dizziness (Heavy blood loss)

- Unconsciousness

- Infection (if left unattended)

- Death

Gunshot

How it feels:

- Depends on the caliber bullet, from how far away they were shot (point-blank range is nothing like being shot from a distance), and in what place. Do careful research and then make your decision.

Effects:

- Bleeding (Consult chart of the circulatory system beforehand for the amount of blood flow that should be described and what color the blood should be. Also take into effect the above variables for blood flow as well.)

- Dizziness (Heavy blood loss)

- Infection (if left unattended)

- Death

Some things that a character may do while they’re injured:

- Heavy/Harsh/Ragged breathing

- Panting

- Making noises of pain

  • gasping
  • grunting
  • hissing
  • groaning
  • whimpering
  • yelping (when the injury is inflicted)
  • screaming
  • shrieking
  • wailing

- Crying/ Weeping/Sobbing/Etc.

- Clenching their teeth

- Unable to speak

- Pressing their hands against a stab wound/cut to try and stem the bleeding

- Eyesight going out of whack (vision blurring and tilting, the room spinning, black spots consuming sight)

- Eyes rolling up into their head

- Trembling/shaking

- Ears riniging (from gunshot)


HOPE THIS HELPED!

I wish I’d appreciated more when I was younger and involved in the fanfic world how something can be “bad writing” in the sense that it doesn’t work as a piece of literature, but good in what it’s doing for the writer.

Especially (but not only) for very young writers, fiction can be a badly needed escape or a way to work through their own problems in metaphor.  A girl who feels invisible and unloved in the real world can write a version of herself that’s a half-unicorn half-faerie princess with every magic power simultaneously, and whether it’s narratively strong or not, it means something to her that she can be that princess in her story.  A person who has no other outlet for their sexuality can write awful “lol, what even is anatomy” porn as part of the process of feeling out what they want and who they are.  A boy who’s afraid to express softness and vulnerability in the real world can write unbearably melodramatic and glurgey hurt/comfort fic, and find in it the tenderness that’s inside him.

And 99% of these stories will be awful and unreadable and embarrassing, just as 99% of therapy session transcripts wouldn’t make good one-act plays.  But that’s okay.  They serve a purpose beyond conventional literature, and while you may not necessarily want to read them, you should still respect that purpose.

Tips On How to Write Characters with Wings (For both fanfic writers and original content writers)

So I’ve been reading a lot of fics lately where people are either

A) Putting wings onto canon characters

B) Making OCs with wings

So I decided that, with the influx of people who are writing winged characters (and therefore the influx of errors that come with writing winged characters), I’d make a little thing to help you slap a pair of wings onto anyone!

This is also a bit personal, too, because the MC in my upcoming novel has wings!

1. Know that there are a lot of types of wings to choose from

Part of being a writer is the desire to take something (whether it be a pre-existing work or an idea in your head) and make it into your own. So, instead of just going with the classic bird wings, why not spice it up a bit? If your character is an angel, you certainly don’t have to stick to the classic depictions of angel wings. Why not give them butterfly wings or dragonfly wings?

Here’s a small list of different types of wings to choose from:

  • Bat wings
  • Beetle wings
  • Bird wings
  • Butterfly/Moth wings
  • Dragonfly wings

Note that these wings are for animals who can fly. There are also animals who can “fly” that actually glide, such as sugar gliders and flying squirrels.

Yeah, so the options are pretty limited, but feel free to make up your own kinds of wings that aren’t necessarily based on a pre-existing creature’s wings!

2. Be familiar with the anatomy of your character’s wings and their limits

If your wings are completely unique, draw them out. A diagram or picture is key when it comes to things like description. I’m not gonna tell you what everything does and give you Animal Wing Anatomy 101, that’s for you to research. Know that there are different types of wings and that they have different uses, strengths, and weaknesses.

3. Never use the full extent of your research! 

Surprise, surprise!

“But wait, Maddy!” you cry, writing utensil in hand and poised to stab me. “I thought we were supposed to were supposed to show our research!”

Well, you are. Technically that’s not wrong. But, readers don’t want to know ALL of it. Over-described wings are sometimes worse than under-described wings; what sucks more than not knowing what a character’s wings look like is having to look up wing anatomy in the middle of the chapter!

Only use the most basic of vocabulary when it comes to describing the parts of the wing. Most of the time, you just have to say “bat wing” or “feathery wing” and the readers get the basic idea. (Like seriously, do you think the readers know what a dactylopatagium brevis is????? It’s a part of skin on a bat’s wing btw)

4. Don’t bring your character’s wings up only when they’re needed!!!!

Unless your character’s wings can fade away when they’re not needed, wings are a 100% real, 24/7 thing! It’s bothersome when writers mention the wings in one chapter and then only bring them up when there’s a daring escape that needs to be performed! Most of the time, I forget that the characters even have wings at all!

There is also the fact that wings aren’t all pros and no cons. If they’re functional, they’re probably big, and if they’re muscular, they’re probably bulky. If your character is clumsy, they’ll probably knock things over constantly, and if they’re not clumsy, they’ll still knock things over constantly.

Your wings are two (or four, or five, or six quintillion) extra appendages; they’re a part of your character! You don’t have to spend every second reminding the readers that they’re there, but don’t go long stretches of time without even mentioning them.

5. Your character’s wings can be a good way to indicate their mood or to provide for that little bit of description that you think you make be lacking

Why wouldn’t you want to describe the wings? I mean, you don’t want to describe every minute detail over and over again, but it’ll boost your word count a lot more than you think. They can also be used to convey your character’s feelings without explicitly telling the reader! It’s like a new set of facial expressions!

See? You can tell he’s wary and ready to fight from the movement of his wings! Also he’s crouching next to a dead body but that’s not relevant right now

Here’s a list of wing language (?) that you can incorporate into your story that will not only increase your word count, but will also add to the sustenance of your story!

Nervous

  • Twitch
  • Flutter
  • Ripple
  • Fold tightly
  • Fidget
  • Flap

Angry

  • Flare
  • Bristle
  • Fluff up
  • Ripple
  • Beat
  • Raise up
  • Snap open

Happy

  • Flutter
  • Curl up
  • Ripple
  • Wave
  • Flap
During Battle
  • Bludgeon
  • Smack
  • Bat
  • Clout
  • Whack
  • Kick someone’s legs out from under them
  • Snap someones neck (only for muscular wings like bat and bird wings)
Problems that may come with having wings
  • Poke out from under blankets and let all of the cold air in
  • Stepped on
  • Get pins and needles from being folded for too long
  • Squashed on chairs/ in beds/ in crowded hallways
  • Vulnerable in battle
  • Molting (for bird wings)

Hope this helped!!!

Another Man’s Treasure

A/N: This is a completed five-part mini-series because @alrightpetal and I have this thing about making Harry super vulnerable and flawed. So here you go.

// Another Man’s Treasure // Mind on a Mission // Take the Lead // Worth the Pain // Wings of Butterflies


…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?

You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.

Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.

It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.

Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.

It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.

Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.

In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.

And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.

So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.

The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.

When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.

The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!

“[Y/N].”

You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.

[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.

“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.

Keep reading

Drarry Secret Santa
  • It’s decided that the Eighth Years should do a Secret Santa gift exchange to continue the newfound effort towards House Unity that was started at the beginning of the new term.
  • So of course, because Harry can’t catch a break, he managed to draw Draco Malfoy as his person.
  • He’s stressed AF and wracking his brain to think of something that Malfoy would even want, something he won’t spit on. 
  • Harry gets annoyed when Malfoy plays it off like it’s going to be super easy to get his person a gift, which makes Harry even more Determined™ 
  • Except, secretly Draco is also stressed AF because holy shit everything he thinks of is stupid, what can he possibly get the Boy Who Lived??? Fuck, fuck!
  • Draco trails through Hogsmeade looking at Quidditch supplies, expensive leather-bound journals, and fine bottles of goblin wine before deciding that all of those gifts wouldn’t matter to Potter — with the exception of Quidditch, obviously.
  • But he’s certain that gifting Potter something Quidditch-related won’t have enough of an impact.
  • He wanted to get a gift that meant something, something to thank Potter for saving his life.
  • Harry nearly gave up as the day to exchange their presents drew nearer, but then he found Malfoy’s wand in the bottom of his trunk.
  • He knew it was the perfect gift.
  • After a few false starts, Draco finally figured out something clever to gift to Potter, something that no other Secret Santa would have thought of.
  • He was proud of himself for figuring out the puzzle, and he’s actually eager to see Potter’s face when he opened Draco’s gift.
  • When the time finally came to exchange gifts in a circle around the Eighth Year common room, they each went last to give their gifts.
  • When it’s clear that they had presents for each other, they both nod to leave the room.
  • Malfoy insisted that Harry open his first.
  • Harry fully expected something over the top, expensive, and uselessly ridiculous.
  • But his breath caught when he opened the leather-bound text, engraved with a family crest on the cover with the name Potter emblazoned on a scroll in the center.
  • As he flipped through the pages Malfoy explained that he tracked down a complete family history of the Potters for Harry.
  • And holy shit, Malfoy’s present made Harry’s heart pound in his chest while his throat went all tight and dry???
  • Harry got choked up over his gift as the reality of it sank in. He carefully ran his fingers over the engraving while Malfoy shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, blurting out facts about the gift that Harry only paid half of his attention to.
  • Harry wiped at his eyes roughly, a little embarrassed, but Malfoy gave him such an important gift.
  • He took a breath and held out his own gift for Malfoy.
  • “I thought it was about time you had this back. It served me well, so, er, thanks.”
  • Draco didn’t even speak for a full minute, his eyes were just locked on his wand in Harry’s outstretched hand.
  • Harry could see his hand shaking at his side.
  • When Harry finally handed Draco the wand, he hugged Harry really tightly and whispered thank you.
  • Draco kissed Harry’s cheek as he pulled away, startling Harry.
  • His lips felt so soft and warm against Harry’s skin.
  • They stared at each other until Harry slowly, carefully pulled Draco back to him, and lightly kissed his cheek in return.
  • They smiled tentatively at each other, each clutching their gifts, as they reached for each other’s hand.
  • Absolutely no one was surprised when they walked back into the common room holding hands.
Tips On How to Write a Shape-Shifting Character (For both fanfic writers and original content writers)

(gif courtesy of http://ilyone.tumblr.com/)

HOLY SHIT MY LAST POST ABOUT WRITING  WINGED CHARACTERS (which you can find here) GOT A SHIT TON OF NOTES! SO I DECIDED TO MAKE ANOTHER ONE ON SHAPE-SHIFTERS!

There are a lot of shape-shifting fics and stories out there. Like. A lot. Whether they be about were-creatures or about characters that just have the ability to shape-shift, a lot of the times- like with winged characters- these shape-shifters are not written very well.

They may be unoriginal, or they may be super Mary-Sues/Gary Stus when it comes to the fact that they have an infinite amount of power or whatever. So I decided to tackle the issues that come with creating a shape-shifting OC or making a canon character into a shape-shifter.

1. Decide what your character’s shape-shifting will be mainly used for

Shape-shifting can be used for a variety of reasons, and that’s why it’s critical for you to figure out what your shape-shifter will mostly be using their powers for.

Here are some reasons why shape-shifters can use their powers:

-Battle (transforming into a bigger creature to overpower enemies)

-Disguise (transforming into something that blends in with the environment around them to hide from enemies)

-Forced to shift (AKA werewolves)

-Spy work (transforming into antagonist’s lackeys to infiltrate the base or even vice versa)

2. Set Limits Right Off the Bat

Shape-shifters are incredibly powerful, and in theory, they can be practically invincible when it comes to battle and hiding from enemies.

However, that should ONLY be in theory. Your shape-shifters CANNOT be all-powerful like their abilities can call for them to be. Here’s where Mary Sue/Gary Stu elements come in, because many writers just state that their characters can shape-shift and leave it at that.

That brings up questions like:

“If he was running from the Big Bad™, then why didn’t he just shift into a wall or a chair and disguise himself?”

“If she had to fight the Big Bad™, why didn’t she just transform into a dragon and deep fry him?”

“Couldn’t they just masquerade as the Big Bad™’s minions and get inside the secret lair?”

Then, the author tries to make up for the lack of rules by giving us some half-assed explanation halfway through the third book.

As soon as the reader finds out that the main character is a shape-shifter, you have to lay down the groundwork for the limits.

Can they only transform into animals?

Can they only transform a certain amount of times at any given point?

Is there something that distinguishes them from the object/person/animal that they’ve transformed into?

Can they only transform into inanimate objects?

Can they only transform into other people?

Does transforming take a lot of energy and therefore they don’t do it often?

Is transforming painful?

Take Beast Boy from Young Justice/ Teen Titans/ various other things as an example:

He can transform into a lot of animals, yes, but they’re all obviously green and unnatural, making it difficult for him to blend in with other animals. his means that his shapeshifting would be most used for attack than for disguise.

You need to set limits, or else your character will be all-powerful and the plot won’t be all that intriguing to the readers; they know that the protagonist will win, so they won’t bother to really get invested in the story.

3. There are many forms of shape-shifters. Just because the mainstream media is all about werewolves with sixteen packs that can cut glass doesn’t mean that you have to make werewolves only

Did you know that technically, a werewolf is just a subdivision of were-creatures?

The prefix “were/wer” means “man” and is usually followed by the name of an animal, ANY animal, to imply that the man (or woman) is transforming into it.

Therefore, there could be werecats, weretigers, werelions, wereunicorns, and were[insert plural name of creature here].

You should really look up the different kinds of shifters from all different cultures and regions of the world. They’re actually quite amazing!

Here’s a list of some of my favorite shapeshifter creatures (Note that these are not all of the shapeshifters, just my personal favorites some of which I feel needed to be represented more in literature):

-Were[insert name of big cat here]

-Werewolf

-Skinwalkers

-Animaguses(Animagi?) (don’t use these they’re JK Rowling’s I just really like Animagi)

-Generic, run-of-the-mill shapeshifters

-Were creatures that are actually just the creature trying to masquerade as a human/ a creature that has a human form

-Transforming into huge gruesome monsters (it’s good shit 10/10)

4. You don’t have to describe the full transformation every single time. The first time is enough.

Readers don’t want to have to go through long, agonizing paragraphs of description every time your character changes, especially if they change during a battle. They don’t want the bloody, gory action to be disrupted by a description of a transformation that they’ve read a hundred times before.

If you truly want to describe the transformation more than once, though I highly advise against it, never describe it more than three times, and make sure to make it unique every single time. If you don’t think you can do that, just describe it once.

You should, however, describe the symptoms that come with transforming. Is it painful? Is it uncomfortable? Does it feel incredible because it makes the character feel a rush of power? Gimme the deets, but not all of them.

Things that happen during transformation that you can describe:


Painful

- Fur/scales growing (stinging and itchy)

- Bones breaking and reorganizing, as well as new ones appearing and old ones transforming

- Muscles ripping and elongating/shrinking

- Fingernails/toenails turning into claws


Invigorating

- Heightened sense of sight/smell/hearing

- Adrenaline rush

- More power/strength/speed



Hope this helped!

Long Way Down // Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: A little bit of everything really


The end had finally come and despite the amount of time you spent preparing for it, it still felt like a punch in your stomach. The knot in your throat was painful and your lungs still struggled for air to breathe. Tears clouded your eyes and turned your vision blurry until his face was unrecognizable.

“You’re a coward,” you cried. “A fucking coward!”

Keep reading

Isak and Even have developed their own language.  

When Isak covers Even in a blanket, tucking the corners in, he’s telling Even I know you don’t always believe you deserve warmth, but I do, and I know you can’t always give it to yourself, but I can.

When Even laughs, he’s telling Isak here, not only do I trust you with my happiness, but I want to share it with you, let it shake you until you’re laughing too. 

When Even sketches and films Isak, he’s telling Isak you are seen in so many beautiful ways, and I am desperate to make you understand that

When Isak posts a picture of them on Instagram, he’s telling Even you are so fucking incredible, the world just has to know. 

When Even strokes Isak’s back in bed, he’s telling Isak I am right here, it’s ok for you to rest now. 

When Isak kisses Even’s cheek after a few quiet hours, he’s telling Even just a reminder, I’m still here, and you are not alone. 

When Even says I’ve got you, he’s telling Isak you are safe here.

When Isak says I’m home, he’s telling Even I feel safe here.

When they say I love you, they’re telling each other just that.

Dean has felt like this exactly once in his lifetime, and even then, the feeling pales in comparison to what’s currently going on inside his chest. He’s content to the point of growing roots right here in this bed, and so buoyant he could float right off the mattress. He’s giggly and meditative and grateful and excited, and all these things are making his stomach flip and dip until he feels that satisfied, vaguely ill feeling you get after riding a particularly intense rollercoaster. 

Dean has never been a person who lounges in bed with a partner; either they’re sleeping, or doing the morning after thing, or getting right back down to it. He can probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s stayed in bed with someone else just to be with them. Dean vaguely remembers doing it with Lisa two or three times in between work and school and soccer and Ben. 

But come hell or high water, Dean Winchester is determined to stay in bed with Castiel.

The hunter doesn’t want to move for a week. Not for a vamp, not for a ghoul… not for the freaking anti-christ himself. Dean only just got his (admittedly no longer angelic) angel back, and they’ve only just waded through all the bullshit between them. He is not leaving for anything. Not unless it’s ridiculously important.

Besides… Dean’s never really had the opportunity to look at Cas like this. 

He has these really thick, pretty eyelashes that fan out against his cheekbones, and his regal, straight nose, and a plush mouth to die for. His stubble is just scruffy enough to be unbearably sexy, and in their haste last night, he totally missed the nipple freckle but now that he can see it…

Before he can help himself, the hunter’s fingers move to brush the delicate mark and the rosy skin beside it, causing Cas’s breath to hitch and his body to turn and his eyes to half-heartedly flutter open before squeezing shut with an almighty groan. “What,” Castiel rumbles with all the enthusiasm of a particularly pissed off bear.

Dean bites back a grin. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Morning,” Cas grunts. His arm tightens around the hunter’s waist and he presses a clumsy, sleepy kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Go back t’sleep.”

And it’s odd, and ridiculously indulgent, but with a smile on his face, that’s exactly what Dean does.

Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day

Guys! Today is the 21st of August and that means it’s Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day!

Go out and show your appreciation for all those writers who work so hard to give you fics - they’ll love you for it! Dont know what you can do? Here are some ideas:

- make a post and rec your favourite fics!
- leave some reviews on your favourite fics!
- visit your favourite author an Tumblr and tell them how much you love their stories or send them some asks!
- write some fanfic yourself or so do some fanart!
- reread your old favourites!
- send some loving anons to your favourite authors and spread the love!

Originally posted by byaseashore

Frost (a langst mini fic )

I don’t really know how to describe this AU besides the fact that lance has ice powers and its a bit short ( @moppingleshitoutofyou ) hope you guys like it!

check out some of my other mini fics here


At first, Lance had thought they were beautiful. He wasn’t exactly sure when they got there or even how they got there, all he knew was that they were lovely.

 The first time he noticed them was when he was changing out of his pajamas and saw a sprinkle of blue gracing his stomach in the mirror. Amazed, he had glanced down and stare at the light blue freckles that dusted his stomach, like a sky full of stars. He remembered how they seemed to glint under the soft lighting in his room like jewels. 

He also remembered the pain that came soon afterwards. 

As soon as his fingertips touched the marks, they began to glow harshly and that was when the stinging began. It felt as if someone was stabbing him with a million thumbtacks, which was not a fun feeling. Yelping, Lance immediately stopped touching his stomach, dulling the sting of the marks. For a second Lance thought he was still asleep because when did freckles stab you? He was pretty sure that was not normal. 

“Paladins! You are needed in the control room, immediately! I repeat, you are needed in the control room immediately!” 

Sparing one last look at the blue marks on his skin, Lance quickly pushed away thoughts on the freckles and focused on the task at hand, getting his paladin gear on in two seconds. After all, it was just a little pain right? And it wasn’t like his hand was going to be on his stomach anyway, so what’s the problem?


It only took a week for the freckles to span across his entire abdomen. Which presented a problem as they team didn’t exactly have time to deal with the marks, especially with the big diplomatic mission they were embarking on soon. Not like the marks cared, they just seemed to cause more trouble. 

Ever since he first noticed them, there’s always been this dull sting in the back of his mind, just barely noticeable but always there. Not only that, Lance seemed to be… freezing things now? Of course he wasn’t turning anything to solid ice but if his hand lingered to long in a certain area, tendrils of frost would begin to dance across the surface (The first time that happened freaked him out just a tad). The freckles also began to glow more often, mostly at random times. He would just be chilling on the couch and BAM, his chest was now a light up display (yet another thing that freaked him out). 

The logical decision would be to tell the team, but how could he? Sure the diplomatic mission was a huge deal, but that wasn’t the only reason Lance wasn’t coming clean about the strange things that were happening. This was his chance to prove his worth to his team, that he was more than just Lance-the-jokester or Lance-the-screwup. That he was worthy of being the Blue Paladin and of Blue herself. 

He could live with a little pain and some weird ice magic if it meant he finally had a thing.  


It took a matter of days before the freckles spread to his arms, stopping a few inches short of his wrists. They were currently on the planet Eyena, a relatively peaceful planet that were known for their mines and the valuable ores within them. Lance couldn’t mess up this meeting, this alliance with a species that could help the team immensely. He wasn’t that selfish. 

It wasn’t like the marks would listen to him though. The pain only worsened and suddenly everything he touched with his hands froze. He was forced to wear gloves constantly to hide the power he now had, the delicate loops of blue that now covered them. The pain was constant and even Blue began to worry at this point. However, Lance put up his brave face and pushed through it all, the pain, the ache, the emptiness…


It felt like only hours before Lance could feel the chill of ice spreading across his body, practically crawling up his throat. There was a ringing in his ears now and he somehow managed to freeze the gloves he wore as well. The only good thing was that the meetings were almost over and soon Lance could be back on the castle, away from prying eyes to finally fix whatever was happening. 

Until then, he nodded along with whatever one of the Eyenians were saying, playing his part as the Blue Paladin and knowing he was slowly, finally becoming worthy of actually being the Blue Paladin. 

How minutes had flown by? Lance couldn’t recall what had happened in the past few moments, as he was now in his room back at the castle. It had only been a few minutes right? Lance could feel his breath quickening as he glanced wildly around, how did he get here in just a few minutes? The room seemed to grow colder with each sharp intake he took, the bed beginning to freeze beneath him. Had it been more than just a few minutes? The ringing was now a roaring storm in his ears. It couldn’t have been than just a few? Lance could feel his hands shaking, the marks glowing a bright blue as the ice spread farther, faster around the room. It had been just a few minutes. Maybe two or three? Lance felt like tearing his hair out, he felt so confused at the moment, so out of place, out of time. 

Was it only seconds now? How many seconds had flown by? He knew his room wasn’t always this cold and shiny, and it certainly hadn’t been a second ago. The marks burned harshly, and was that someone calling his name? It couldn’t have been. Because only a second ago he had been fine, he is fine, is he fine?

(Maybe some remember my post about the toothpaste event.)


“Stiles!”

“Derek.”

“What the hell is that?”

“What is what?” Stiles asks as he walks into the bathroom where Derek stands in front of their bathroom sink. Above it is their mirrored bathroom cabinet with one side open.

In answer Derek just turns his head to glare at Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes and walks over to get a look at the open cabinet.

“Ohhhh. You mean our awesome and super cool toothpastes.”

“What.”

“They had this double toothpaste box on sale and had an event where you can order your own personalized stickers. Like honey and sweetheart. I thought just using our names would be good enough.”

Derek looks at his rambling boyfriend and has one of these moments where he asks himself, why he is even dating that idiot. Who even orders name stickers for toothpaste? Why is that even a thing??

He sighs and shakes his head.

“What, you don’t like them?” Stiles asks with a small pout.

“Of course not,” Derek answers with a grin. And before Stiles can start on another rant Derek kisses him on the lips and says, “But I like you enough to keep them. This once.”

Stiles looks smug and Derek stops rolling his eyes after the third time he uses the toothpaste.

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anonymous asked:

we promised to stay friends but we’re doing the same stuff we did when we were a couple and i don’t wanna point it out because i don’t want it to stop - can you do this post-break up prompt , please ?

Title: Hold On

A/N: This one pretty much yelled in my ear to write it until I sat down and just did it. Just a bitty one, riding in at 1.1k. I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Verges sliiiiightly on M territory but pretty much only at the beginning.


It’s when Emma’s hands start on the removal of Killian’s belt that he thinks to stop her, that he thinks ‘this probably can’t end well,’ and that he thinks he’ll stop kissing her long enough to say so. Then again, this is Emma Swan, and she’s kissing him back, and her fingers are just dipping below the waist of his boxers and how could he possibly allow thoughts to stop him from anything at that point?

Keep reading

Impatient

A “Millenium” post-ep fluff piece that randomly popped into my head. Didn’t fit with any of my prompts, unfortunately. But here you go. 

“Scully, where are you?”

Having blindly answered the phone, barely awake, Scully swallows. Her mouth is dry, her eyes refuse to open, and why is Mulder calling her at this hour anyway? Whatever hour it is. Didn’t she just take him home after the hospital? After that kiss? Oh, that kiss.

“Scully?” His voice gets louder, sounds impatient.  

“I’m here.” She mumbles into her pillow before she turns her head to look at the time: 4.42 am. Oh, Mulder, why.

“You’re not here,” he sounds strangely accusatory, she thinks still trying to wake up; he might be fine with just two or three hours of sleep, even drugged up, but she’s not. “You left.” He finishes.

“I went home, Mulder. Like I said I would.” Her brain refuses to come up with the exact dialogue, but she knows she told him she’d be back tomorrow. Considering the time then and now she might have used the words ‘later today’. She never said she’d stay with him. She knows because she had to make herself leave.

“You said you’d stay.” She can practically hear him pout on the other end of the line.

“Mulder,” Scully sighs, “I drove you home and I said I’d be back later.” There’s a pause on his side and Scully’s eyes, which she just managed to open somewhat, are in danger of falling shut again. This is the reason she wanted to go home, why she didn’t stay with Mulder. That and the fact that she thought he’d be out for a couple of hours. She had given him the good, strong stuff. Even that was no match for his determination, it seems. He didn’t want her to leave of course (and part of her really wanted to stay, too). His hands took liberties after they left the hospital. After another push forward – the world didn’t end, no it didn’t – a first, tentative kiss. Now touching. They were doing this slowly, without words, just testing the waters. Except Mulder, on painkillers or not, tended to jump in. She didn’t stop him when he planted his hand on her thigh in the car. Or when he leaned heavily against her when she followed him upstairs. She even gave him another gentle peck right before she left. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Because of this. Before this could go further, and there was no doubt that it would, she needed to think about it. She couldn’t do it when Mulder stared at her like a puppy, when his hands roamed over her body; when his whole presence fogged up the reasonable part of her brain.

“It’s later now, Scully.” His voice, still pouting (she hears it, she truly does), jolts her back to the present moment.

“Mulder, it’s the middle of the night. Why don’t you take another dose of painkillers and sleep? I’ll be there in the morning-”

“It’s morning.”

“Later in the morning.”

“I could drive over to your apartment.”

“Mulder, your arm is in a sling. You can’t drive.” Scully pinches her nose. She can barely move; her own body, without the aid of painkillers, reminds her that she’s not getting any younger.

“I can drive with one arm, Scully. I told you.”

“You can’t, Mulder. Or you shouldn’t. Just stay where you are, all right? I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He’s quiet again and as much as Scully longs for him to hang up the phone so she can go back to sleep, she knows the silence is not a good sign.

“I shouldn’t have done it, huh?” His voice is barely above a whisper, breaks and Scully sits up in bed, awake now.

“What are you talking about?”

“Kissing you. I shouldn’t have done it. It was too soon.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully murmurs, “you did nothing wrong. I loved the kiss.” She flushes when she realizes what she’s just said.

“You did?” Now she can hear him grin. It makes her smile, puts her in a better mood despite the wake-up call and her exhaustion.

“Yeah, Mulder. I did.”

“So I can – we can – do it again?”

“I was counting on it.” Scully admits.

“I’m coming over now, Scully.”

“Mulder, no! You’re not supposed to drive with your arm.”

“But Scully…” The pout makes a comeback. Scully sighs again; it feels like she never stopped sighing once. She gets up, feels her weary bones and stretches.

“You stay where you are, Mulder,” she tells him a voice he knows means business and he’s quiet, “I’ll be there in half an hour, all right?” Without turning on the lights, she grabs random pieces of clothes; it doesn’t matter anyway. She doubts they’ll spend much time outside. Her stomach tingles thinking about it, about what she’s about to do; what they’re about to do soon. So very soon.

“I could be at your place in 20 minutes, Scully.” Mulder’s impatience distracts her, makes her roll her eyes.

“Mulder, if you want a repeat performance of that kiss and if you want to go further than that – ever – you will stay where you are. Understood?” Another pause that gives her enough time to roam through her closet.

“Uhm, Scully…” She knows that tone; he’s guilty. He’s done something stupid.

“Mulder, what?” Scully doesn’t get an answer. Instead she hears a knock on her front door. She startles and pads barefoot to answer. She looks through the peep hole even though she knows. Of course she knows.

“Hi.” Mulder smiles sheepishly, phone still in hand, his other arm in its sling at least.

“Mulder.” Is all she says; she wants to be angry. She wants to yell at him, wants to strangle him even maybe, but instead she drags him in by his good arm, closes the door and pushes him against it. She’s on tiptoe and he still has to lower his head. Not that she cares. Let him suffer some more, she thinks.

“Told you I could drive with one arm.” He whispers against her lips and Scully doesn’t want to argue with him and so she captures his lips with hers and seals their fate. She’s not going to get any sleep any time soon that’s for certain.