makkthree  asked:

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who struggle to stay motivated (especially when the creativity is flowing at a trickle at best)? I always have these great ideas I can build into extensive aus that I would dearly love to turn into fanfics to share with other fans, but I find myself really struggling when it comes time to put words to paper.

My first bit of advice would be to just keep writing. Even if it’s an unrelated to what you want to be writing dribble, as long as you write a little something a day, it makes it so much easier to keep going. I skipped out on writing for three days recently and it was so very difficult to get back into it. 
Even if what you write seems like rubbish, you can always rewrite it. I can’t even begin to explain the amount of times I’ve wrote something, knowing it was horrible, but also knowing that once the idea was down, I could take my time and really write it out. 

Another bit of advice is to have a plan. Here’s an example of how I plan;
Chapter 1;
- Sabo & Luffy sent by back in time by mysterious means.
- Sabo hears it’s the time for Ace’s upcoming exercution,
- Heads out to go save him
- Arrives just outside of Marineford at same time as Luffy,

It seems like a lot is going to happen in the chapter, but breaking it down and writing it piece by piece, then crossing it off, makes things so much easier, and you feel really accomplishes when it comes to crossing off the part you’re got wrote up. I find that motivates me.

Finally, I find that having a tumblr to talk about my fic, to hear input from readers and just write drabbles with the characters that either won’t fit into the story or aren’t ‘story canon’ makes it easy to keep on task too. (Plus it’s apparently easier to be sent fanart and that’s the most inspiring thing for me)

I hope even a bit of that helps xx

anonymous asked:

4 + 29 together pls for Cheol or Josh, your choice. - Carrot anon ;)

4 “Why are you at my house at 3:00 AM?”

29 “What if I kissed you right now?”

  You were woken up by the sound of something being thrown at your window. One look at your alarm clock had you groaning in despair. 3:00 AM. The bright numbers were aggressively staring at you, and the sound of things, probably pebbles, hitting the glass just wouldn’t stop.

  “Fine, fine,” you mumbled as you got up. You slowly made your way to your window and looked outside to find your friend Seungcheol, preparing himself to throw another rock towards your room. When you appeared in the moonlight, his face split into a giant grin, and he gestured for you to come down. “No,” you mouthed back. He insisted though, and even threw in his puppy dog eyes, making you sigh. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

  If you were being honest, though, the smile he gave you when you told him you’d come down was probably worth the trouble. Not that you would tell him this, of course. You put on a large sweater, as the weather tended to be a little colder at night in that part of year, and met up with Seungcheol in your backyard. You planted yourself in front of him, crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s the middle of the night, ‘Cheol. Why are you at my house at 3:00 AM?

  Suddenly, his grin faltered, and he shifted… almost nervously? “I… I don’t really know. I just wanted to see you, I guess…” You tried to interrupt him, a bit pissed that he’d woken you up for nothing when he knew sleep was something you barely got and hence badly needed, but you couldn’t open your mouth before he continued. “Actually that’s not true. I have something to ask you. It’s really important.”

  “Important enough that it couldn’t wait for morning?” He nodded. “Look, Seungcheol, what if you came back at, say, 10:00 AM, and then we can talk? I’m really tir…”

  “What if I kissed you right now?

  You stopped talking immediately, taken aback. Did he just ask what you thought he’d asked? “What?”

  “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

  “Cheol, why are you asking such a thing? Why would you kiss me? You’re not making any sense, go back to sleep.”

  You tried to push his shoulder to prompt him to leave, but he swatted at your hand, grabbed your face and kissed you. It was a bit rough at first, his mouth colliding with yours and you letting out a surprised yelp. After the first shock, you let yourself melt in his arms, his left hand cradling your jaw and the other the back of your head. His lips were plump and soft, gently moving against your own. You grabbed his shirt tightly in your hands and started kissing back, but he let you go.

  You stared at each other for a moment, both surprised by the other’s reaction. You just stood there, clinging onto each other, and after a while, a smile crept on both your faces. The night was a lot warmer than you thought it would be.

//admin cora//

i’ll always be e/R trash, but courferre is life changing. because it’s characteristically sweet and good and doesn’t make me want to rip my own heart out of my chest 

(You’re Not) the Boss of Me


All this sorry sight needed was a black and white filter and a casual voiceover. Private Eye sitting by herself at a bar, downing a Baileys over ice like it was a cold beer. She couldn’t care less about how you were supposed to drink anything, she just needed the drink.

Another case closed successfully, but the aftershocks would last for a while, she knew. She hated taking infidelity cases; when they were nothing the client was deluded and possibly cheating themselves, and if they were right, she was the final blow to a fragile marriage. She’d just finished with the ugly divorce trial that followed, and was just grateful she’d convinced the judge to give custody of the kids to a more trustworthy aunt.

Now Detective Snow was alone, trying to forget the past weeks of gathering and using information to sniff out dirty laundry. Best to just enjoy the evening.

ronnie-lodge  asked:

Bellarke + 87 + 98? Is that doable? Your choice!

I already did 98, so this ended up just being 87.

Clarke never expected to run into Bellamy Blake again. They were really good friends for a single semester her junior year of college, when they were both studying abroad in Italy, and it was one of those intense, proximity-and-time-based relationships, where they stayed up late drinking cheap wine and talking about everything. She’s pretty sure if they had just had another month, they would have slept together, become more, but–well, they didn’t. They went home to separate colleges on separate sides of the country, and remained friends in the conventional way: Facebook. At some point, he stopped updating or liking anything she did, and she mostly forgot about him.

And then she literally bumps into him at a bar.

She recognizes him instantly, broad shoulders, smattering of freckles, even though his hair has gotten longer and gone curly, and he’s older. He’s still beautiful, like he was, but he’s grown more defined, more real, almost.

Clarke might already be a little drunk.

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