leo leclerc’s silence about pride month is deafening btw .. god rest the soul of canonical ally roscoe hamilton. they don’t make them like that anymore
The “draw” of AI doesn’t work on me for the same reason that the Ring couldn’t tempt Samwise. Because I LIKE to write. I like to make things, I like the process of making things, instead of just the end result.
❓No dumb questions amnesty - can you explain this [line/dialogue/moment from the story]?
🏴☠️ Were there any points in which your characters tried (or succeeded) to commit mutiny against your planned plot? Where did they most want to rebel?
🥇 What scene were you most excited to write? Did it end up being the one you enjoyed writing the most?
🙏 Was there anything your character(s) really really really wanted to do? Did you let them?
🍆 What scene do you think was the hottest? What scene do you think your readers thought was the hottest? Are they the same?
🔮Have you imagined what happens to [character(s)] in the future? Or does the story only exist to you as a moment in time?
🔎 What detail(s) in the story are you particularly captivated with? Is there any behind the scenes info or backstory?
🧭 What was the key choice or decision you had to make for this story? If you had chosen differently, what would the story have turned into?
📖 Could the story have been a different length? What would you have included/removed?
🫂How would the story have changed if you wrote it for [this pairing] instead?
💭 If you could wish into creation a transformative piece for your story, made by a real human who isn’t you, what would it be? Art, video, sequel, podfic, etc.
📋What was your main goal for the story and/or writing experience? Do you think that you achieved it?
🎤 Do you think the story was written in your typical voice? Why or why not?
👉👈What two stories have you written that are most similar? Why?
👈👉What two stories have you written that are most different? Why?
Read all of Tough to be Tender in one night, cried, thank you for your service 🫡
Tough to be Tender - gax
i truly admire you finishing 112k in one night, wow! and sorry for making you cry, but that was sadly always my plan <3 thank you for telling me and reading!
do you write fics in german then translate to english? i’m endlessly fascinated by people who are truly bilingual
i don’t do that anymore! I did it with my first fic, but it ended up being way too much of a hassle. these days I write everything in English from the first draft, BUT I do always have a translator tab open, because every other paragraph there will be one specific word that only comes to me in German and absolutely refuses to appear in English. i do study English at uni at the moment, though, and I mostly read English books and fics, and watch shows and movies in English too, so I think that probably helps a lot with why writing directly in English feels more natural to me now.
the only time I get really, really frustrated is when I’m writing a non-native English speaker like Carlos or Max, because I’m also not native, so i don’t always know the tiny differences in what word they might choose or what grammar mistake would feel natural for them specifically. even things like Aussie slang are hard for me, which is why I admire people who really have those voices down SO much.
thank you for such a lovely question! i’d honestly love to talk more about it, or answer literally any other questions too <3
I think in my first comment to your fic i called it a love letter to fandom and i stand by that. the weaving of brocedes into the fic and just watching max and george through emillian and William and just. beautiful.
the fandom aspect was so well done and I grinned so hard when max was trying to test george qnd the end. oh god. the end. when they kissed. i tell you i fell apart
and god just everything, them on the plane, the casual fondness. I love the entire office youve created, I love the dynamics of everyone, I desperately want to just keep warching Wolff media as a never ending sitcom
lewis and nico, god. god. no notes
you wrote george so well, and getting over grief so lovely. and max, just, everything about his character, and them texting over the internet. what if I cried. what if
im going to go and reread this fic now. your writing is so technically skilled and for a while I lived and breathed in the same air as they was. the ending was perfect, sweet, a little funny, and so tender. thank you for creating such a masterpiece for us to devour. what a beautiful love letter to fandom
<3 @otterducks
Tough to be Tender - gax
thank you so much, this is such an unbelievably lovely inbox message, i am floating <3
calling it a love letter to fandom is one of the nicest things you could possibly say, because that really was at the heart of it for me and i’m so glad the Brocedes thread worked for you too!! writing Lewis and Nico through Max and George’s understanding of them was one of my favourite parts, especially because of how much they were accidentally revealing about themselves the entire time. ahhh Wolff Media as a never-ending sitcom is the dream. just know that they continue to exist even without me putting the words onto the page.
thank you so much for saying that about George and Max, and about the ending. i seriously don't even know what to sayb because i'm so happy that this fic, that means so much to me, is worth anyones time! this means the world to me, and I’m so grateful you read it with so much love <3
i welcome any prompt for existing fics of mine btw! I know some people wished for an epilogue or something similar for Tough to be Tender and if you want to see any specific situations, i'm happy to write them. also for any of my other fics <3 not having a fic ready to update every week feels so weird! don’t get me wrong, i have lots of WIP's but nothing finished…
Nico Rosberg doesn’t get enough credit for how Batshit crazy he actually is because what do you mean you literally go insane, develop an ed, and alienate yourself from EVERYONE in order to win a championship leaving your ex best friend fuming and wanting revenge….. Then you just, leave.
Like not giving anyone that satisfaction, just forcing them to see you knowing they can never get the satisfaction or seeing you win or winning against you.
And while it’s still so triggering for everyone involved, you found closure in how traumatic it would be before it happened so you KEEP TALKING ABOUT IT.
omegaverse maxiel for anonstie who asked for role reversal dead heat!
Daniel’s blowing a bubblegum bubble and everything about it looks off. The candied colour is more purple than pink. The stretch is too deep, the membrane too translucent, like it should have already burst. His lips look soft, not puckered enough to hold it. He says, “Earth to Macks,” and he says it like that, like the x is three distinct letters, triple lip shapes.
“What—yes.” The gum is gone now, tucked somewhere behind Daniel’s big grin, his white teeth.
“You good, homie?”
“Yes,” Max repeats. He thinks if the bubblegum would taste like bubblegum or if the bubblegum would taste like grape. He imagines the imprints of Daniel’s teeth in it.
“Yeah, nah, you don’t look so good.”
“Yes. No. I’m next week supposed to.”
“To…” Daniel glances over at Max because he’s driving, because they’re in a car. Maybe it’s the dash lights making his bubblegum grape instead. “Max, are you pre-rutting in my whip?” He laughs as he says it, rolling down a window and waving a hand in front of his face like there’s a stinky smell, but Max gets injections in his armpits every four weeks so he won’t smell like anything. Daniel reaches over and digs blindly through the glovebox, elbow close to Max’s knees. He says, “Catch,” and flicks a bottle in his lap. Max drops it twice.
It’s alpha-branded scent blocker. It’s stupid, because regular scent blocker works on everyone, so this kind is half effective as normal. It probably costs double. It’s stupid that Daniel buys it. Max puts it on anyway, rolling the cold metal ball over the pulse of his wrist. He drops the little cap somewhere, gone forever.
The car is red because the traffic light is red and Daniel is frowning now. “What are your rut plans, Max? Reckon it’s come early, yeah? The hotel?”
There’s only one cycle hotel in Monaco. Daniel doesn’t go there. He told Max once that he has an arrangement and that he’s exposed to heaps of bed bugs too much as it is. Max doesn’t know if his arrangement is a person. Max’s arrangement is a person.
“Jamie.”
“Jamie,” Daniel repeats raunchily. “Jamantha. Jamiella. Jamigail.”
Max says, “What.”
“Text her and I’ll help get you in, hey? I’ll be, like, your bellhop. Ding ding.”
Ding ding. Luggage in the boot because they’re driving from the airport in Nice. Max didn’t feel good on the plane.
He texts Jamie, Starting early can you come? But it makes less sense because there are more mistakes and incorrect corrections. Jamie heart reacts which means yes.
The indicator pop-click-pops.
Max asks Daniel, “Did you spit it out?”
Daniel says, “Huh?”
Max imagines the grape bubblegum in a foil wrapper somewhere, soft but saving the shape.
“Are you—” Daniel breaks off into a high laugh. “Like, do you have an omega scent aid or something?”
“What?”
“Did you open a bag of Jamie’s clothes or…?”
Max frowns. “I don’t have his clothes.”
Daniel gawks at Max instead of looking at the road, dangerous. “Jamie is a guy?”
Max frowns double. He can’t keep track if this was one of the things he should not say while also keeping track of potential foil glitters in the car. It’s probably fine. “Yes.”
Daniel rolls down both of their windows. Max thinks the bubblegum is back again—grape grape grape—but Daniel’s only holding his breath, cheeks puffed up. His fingertips are indenting the steering wheel. Max imagines the leather bruising grape-purple over all the prints.
They get back to their apartment building and Daniel carries all their things, balancing the curve of Max’s helmet bag on the jut of his hip, the least alpha thing about him. People say he has omega hips and he’s flattered, brags about it. It’s stupid because Max knows he wouldn’t be like that if he were an omega for real.
Jamie opens the door as Max is still fumbling at the keypad, Daniel’s hand gripping the back of his sweaty shirt as he sways. Max remembers, belatedly, that Jamie smells like an alpha and looks like Daniel.
Daniel says, “Oh, hey—um. Ha. What?”
Jamie ignores Daniel. He looks Max up and down and says, sympathetically, “Fuck dude,” spreading his arms wide where they’re extra alpha-smelling like he’s been to the gym.
Daniel’s hand fists the material of Max’s shirt. When Max tries to step forward, he gets pulled back.
“Sorry,” Daniel says. “Sorry, sorry.” But he doesn’t let go. “Sorry.” After a suspended moment, each of his fingers release the bunched cotton sequentially, number 3 pinky the last.
Jamie gives Daniel a judgmental look and shuts the door on his face.
But Daniel doesn’t leave. Max knows because he can feel it in the memory of his gripped back still, can sense it through the wood between them as Jamie strips him down and gets him off because he’s too far gone to wait. He comes harder than he has maybe ever and Daniel punches the wall behind him—yelling into something, maybe his own fist—and then walks too quickly away.
