What they don't tell you about writing is that as you write, you discover scenes and entire plots that you hadn't accounted for that need to be written. So you can spend two hours writing and editing only to realise you're further away from the finish line than you thought you were when you started
Valentine's Day. And instead of being with her girlfriend, she was stuck helping the Winchesters. When she decided to redeem herself, she never expected she'd find herself in such a situation.
The most romantic day of the year and she finally had someone special to celebrate it with, and where was she? Oh, halfway across the country, that's where! Having to put up with Dean's whining and Sam's workaholic self. Honestly, supernatural deaths on Valentine's Day. Why, oh why, did it have to involve magic? Why not some common monster the lads deal with on a regular basis.
There was no way she'd be able to get home in time for any sort of celebration. Even with magic. Although you wouldn't take it against her, she still felt guilty. You likely had a whole plan for the day and she'd gone and ruined it all.
That was why Rowena had spent the morning grumpy and frowning, eyes rolling with every lame joke Dean made. She also replied to every complaint about working on a holiday with ill-tempered sarcasm. How dare he complain when Rowena had to contend with texts and a quick call that morning to you? At least Sam realized what her cooperation was costing her, shooting her apologetic glances when Dean was being an annoying, insensitive wee bawbag.
That night, after they found the witch responsible and killed her, Rowena climbed into her bed at the bunker, freshly showered and in her red pajamas. She had stared with dismay at the teddy she'd bought for the occasion, had planned to wear it as one of her gifts to you. She would just have to save it for when she got home. Then, she promised herself, she'd make it up to you.
She bit her lip, staring at your number on her phone. She wanted to call you, to hear your voice — to see you. But she also wanted more than that. She wanted to see how exactly you looked, what you were doing, how you were spending the holiday night in her absence.
An idea popped up and Rowena smirked, eyes alight with anticipation. Magic really was marvelous.
It took little to no time to reach you in her astral form. Rowena watched from above as you laid in bed, watching something on your phone. She circled and came closer until she could see what it was you were watching.
To her surprise and smug delight, it was a video of two naked women kissing — a brunette and a redhead. They were running their hands over each other, warming up to the main event. Rowena watched you carefully. Your darkened eyes and lightly flushed cheeks. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyes were just slightly glazed, your mind imagining different people in those women's stead. You shifted, legs rubbing together, and Rowena knew it wouldn't be long before you satisfied the ache building in your core.
She came back to herself, breathing hard and heart pounding. The scene she found had gotten her hot and wanting. Wanting you and your questing fingers, trailing over her skin where heat and wetness gathered. With a moments thought, Rowena spoke a moderately lengthy spell in Latin, imagining you in all your glory; something that would give her what she wanted.
Almost immediately, she gasped, as phantom digits traced light circular patterns over pussy. Rowena squirmed, tilting towards the teasing touch and achieving nothing. After a while, the light touches grew firmer, often poking her clit. She jolted each time, lightly moaning, her legs spreading unconsciously. When she felt her lower lips spread before being rubbed on her clit, she scrambled to remove her pajama bottoms, gasping quietly. The finger set to work, circling her swollen wee nub, alternating between rubbing and circling.
Rowena moaned, opening her top before palming her breasts and pinching her nipples. She needn't use her own hands below, the phantom touches were enough. It only took a few minutes before her orgasm crashed over her, pulling a high pitched whimper from her open mouth. She shuddered and writhed from the unrelenting touch.
Before her orgasm had even faded, it was quickly followed by another one. And another. And another. She'd grown progressively louder with each one, fists holding onto the sheets as she rode each racking wave.
'Ro,' she heard you moan in her mind before she felt your touch slowing, lightening. Rowena counted orgasm number five, this one more merciful than the last four. She shuddered, feeling especially pleased and warm on the inside when the realization slipped into her mind.
You'd come, too.
'Wena,' you whined in her mind, voice like an echo.
Despite the lightened touches, the reprieve Rowena expected didn't come. Instead, the light touches became steadily firmer, more demanding. Rowena came twice before it eased again.
'Rooooo,' you drew out. 'Please. More,' you pleaded.
Then, harder. Faster. More urgent. The scream it tore from her this time briefly made her thankful for the privacy spell she placed on her room upon arriving. It would have been embarrassing, otherwise.
She was shouting expletives and gyrating back towards the bed in an effort to escape the almost painful pleasure. Then, it stopped.
‘Rowena,’ you whimpered weakly.
She panted, glazed eyes staring at the ceiling, bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead. After a few seconds of rest, she whimpered pitifully, whining. The sensation of a finger entering her, curling and pressing against her swollen G-spot, made her buck. In an effort to get away or to have more, she wasn't certain.
You moaned. 'Yes,' you whimpered. 'Yes. Please. Ro,' you groaned, 'Take me.'
The strokes against the sensitive tissue were determined and in no time, Rowena was wailing her ninth climax of the night. Thankfully, the stimulation ended just before she finished.
'Love you. Ro," you sighed, 'My Rowena. Sweetheart...'
She exhaled a shuddering breath, sprawled boneless on top of the sheets. After some moments to get her breathing under control, she cancelled the spell.
She thought of astral projecting again, just to see the look on your face. Fucked to satisfaction. The glaze in your eyes and slight flush to your cheeks, the glow that came to anyone who had ever had a satisfying climax.
Almost instantly, she dismissed the thought. She was too tired to attempt such a thing. Tired and sleepy, worn out by your insistent touch and ravenous appetite.
Gathering what remained of her strength and awareness, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and fired off a quick text.
'I love you, too, my darling. Happy Valentine's Day. Sweet dreams. 😚'
The answering text arrived just before Rowena fell asleep.
'Happy Valentine's Day, Wena ❤️❤️❤️ I love you. Good night. Sweet dreams. 😚💕 '
Reblog this message if you encourage anyone that wants to draw your OC to do so. No need to ask for permission in advance.
Go for it. Draw my OC. If you want, I’ll even give you reference posts. Go to town on it.
You are welcome to draw my OC and surprise me with the result. Seriously. In fact, I encourage it. I will proudly display whatever it is you submit to me regarding my OC. There is a chance that I will squeal about it for several days.
Even if you feel you aren’t good at whatever artistic adventure it is you do, please feel free to submit it to me. I want to see what you have done.
Most of the writer ask posts I come across are only like ten or so questions long so I thought I’d try to make a longer one because we like talking about our writing! Feel free to reblog!
1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?
2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?
3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.
4) What is your favourite genre to write for?
5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?
6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?
7) When is your preferred time to write?
8) Where do you take your inspiration from?
9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?
10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?
11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?
12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?
13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?
14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.
15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?
16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?
17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.
18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?
19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?
20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?
21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?
22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?
23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?
24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?
25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?
26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?
27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?
28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?
29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?
30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?
31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)
32) Are any of your characters based on real people?
33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?
34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?
35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?
36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?
37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?
38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.
39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?
40) Do people know you write fanfiction?
41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?
42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.
43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?
44) What is the last line you wrote?
45) What spurs you on during the writing process?
46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?
47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?
48) What’s your favourite trope to write?
49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?
50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?
Astarte and Crowley stiffened, almost at the same time. Without even having entered the room, they could both feel something they… hadn’t expected on ever feeling again.
For Astarte, it was a familiar sort of Grace, that of an old rival, presumed dead through the rumor mill. For Crowley, it was a well-known energy, its unique style one that he had memorized intimately through the centuries, and which had haunted him in his dreams. Back when he had been addicted to human blood and capable of sleep.
Astarte looked at Crowley, who then did the same, both thinking the same thing.
Someone wasn’t as dead as they all thought.
It was Crowley who entered the room first, already anticipating what he would find. Astarte trailed behind him, just that smallest bit curious. After all, if anyone was to survive a drill to the head and, presumably, falling from Heaven, it was her.
The sight of her in a powder blue business suit, looking as impeccable and unflappable as the last time he saw her—alright, maybe not quite as unflappable as last time, he had been the one to send her running— it was like no time had passed at all.
Crowley stopped, hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the angel who regarded him coolly, hands crossed, looking down at him. His blackened, shriveled heart skipped a beat at seeing her once again: both her latest/last vessel, and the underlying glow of her, inside the mortal suit. It took all of his control to keep a calm, disinterested mien, even as everything inside, brought on by the human blood that stayed permanently inside his very being, wanted to crush her in his embrace and kiss her with all the feelings that swirled inside him.
If not for the company at hand. Mainly, his backstabbing evil, bitch of a mother.
Naomi’s eyes wandered between the new arrivals, lingering on the two familiar figures reeking of sulfur. “I see you’re still working with demons. You’re aware they can’t be trusted, right?” She looked up at the brothers, mostly Dean.
“Yeah, we’re aware,” Dean replied. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. Right now, what’s important is stopping the Devil.”
“You’re one to talk, Angel. You’re working with a witch,” Astarte spoke.
“And yet, still human. Can the same be said about you?”
A humorless chuckle. “At least I was human. Can the same be said about you?” Astarte mocked.
“Why are you even here?” Naomi questioned, wrinkling her nose. “Why don’t you return to the Pit you came from. You’re not needed here.”
Astarte merely raised a brow, the corner of her lips lifting in the subtlest of smirks.
“I told her to come with me,” Crowley finally spoke. Naomi’s eyes met his. “Hello, love. Long time no see.”
She gave a tight smile, eyes narrowed. “Demon.”
“Now, now; is that really how you greet an old friend?” Crowley asked, brows rising. “Really, Naomi.”
She gave a look like one who had stepped on something foul and slimy. “An old friend? More like a persistent nuisance. A cockroach.”
“You do say the most wonderful things, love.”
Astarte scoffed a laugh.
“But seriously, what are you doing with Mother.”
Naomi’s brows rose in interest. “Mother?” She glanced beside her at the witch, who had silently stood there watching their exchange. “You?”
Rowena smiled. “I did tell you that my son was a handful. Do ye see what I have ta deal with?”
“You told me your son was a demon. You didn’t say he was the cockroach called Crowley.”
“King of Hell,” Crowley added helpfully.
“Self-proclaimed,” Naomi added, correcting his statement.
“Would it have made a difference if he was the King or not?” Rowena questioned.
“I would have known who I’d be dealing with.”
“And you know I do so love making deals,” Crowley added.
“Be quiet.”
“Or what?” he smirked. “Make me.”
A raised brow. “Gladly.” She raised her hand, eyes starting to glow.
“Okay, enough!” Dean commanded. The light dimmed and faded, returning to sparkling blue. “We didn’t bring you here for this. We brought you to help us send the Devil back to hell.”
“Of course,” Naomi replied easily, acting as if she wasn’t just about to smite Crowley’s demon ass out of existence.
“I don’t care about whatever drama you all have. You wanna kill him, that’s your business. Just do it after we’ve taken care of Lucifer.”
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