#fic drafts

[probably-definitely-a-bard]

You know what’s gonna be under the cut..

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

watering you as though you’re a houseplant :)

stay hydrated! I don’t know how it is where you live but I’m going through this huge heatwave and thus feel compelled to make sure that all my friends are drinking enough ;u;

I saw your post with the fic drafts and immediately got so curious about them, I might pierce a hole into the floor with how your ideas have me jumping up and down-

I’d love to know about the saltwater cure one, the title immediately intrigued me!

(and also i’ll soon be on vacation which will be the perfect opportunity to reread every single one of your works hah……)

I just pictured this GIF and aww, thank you so much, you're so sweet! 22nd glass of water done!

AHHH, you're so sweet thank you, I threw out the ask challenge on fic drafts on a whim, but was hoping someone would ask, because I love to yap about them, and now I've been given permission, you're so sweet, thank you!

the cure for anything is saltwater is this really vague fic idea that I've had roaming around for ages, that has only been growing further, thanks to this brilliant fic and one of my oldest cynical metaphors, that I love to pepper in anywhere I choose. In Unit 7 of my Biology Class, they taught us that what often leads to overdose in addicts is the fact that to feel the same amount of euphoria they have to ingest more of the substance, as the brain grew a tolerance to it.

And that really stuck with me, and since then, I've compared my need and constant yearning for love as a drug addiction. Because no matter how much I receive, I always want more, just to feel that same amount of contentness and euphoria. And the moment it declines or fades just slightly, the anxiety/withdrawl kicks in, and added with that brilliant fic, I just had an idea.

Maybe that's what Tommy wants. To love until his last breath. To be loved until his last breath.

From: Is this love withdrawals? by stressedoutstars.

So, this idea follows Tommy, whose aunt had overdosed in her car and had driven into the lake and drowned, and this is a constant theme that reverbrates throughout the entire fic as Tommy's parents divorce and later, Tommy meets his new stepbrothers who have problems of their own.

The plot is vague, and is a culmination of a coming of age movie with half of the tenderness and too much rawness, and a character study of broken families and broken boys who make a family out of it, anyways.

The ending, as of now, is all three boys - three brothers - in a graveyard, underneath the bleeding sun and a stolen car, as Tommy takes themto his aunt's grave, and they ask him how she died, and Tommy tells them it was love, she just couldn't get enough of it and they wrap their arms around his shoulder, the same shared understanding in their eyes, and say nothing.

Thank you for the ask and I hope this didn't dissapoint! <3

(And I hope you have a lovely and wonderful vacation, and I am so honored that you want to read my fics!)

Context: The Water Thing + The Fic Drafts thing, if anyone is curious.

[fairrytype]

prompt: ten warnings: n/a pokeshipping.

Ash jumps, startled, when Gary clamps a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the dance floor, his breath still caught somwhere in his throat.

Before he can ask why the man beside him is staring at him like he’s just won a battle, Gary smirks, “That’s the sixth time,” he says, sipping from his drink casually.  

Ash just arches a brow and, reluctantly, takes the bait. “Sixth time?”

Gary scoffs. “I should get you some binoculars to make it less obvious.”

Ash quickly turns back to his own drink, his face warming with embarrassment before he can stop it. He’s been gripping his glass so tightly for the last five minutes that his hand is starting to cramp into a claw, but he busies himself with it regardless, hoping it will hide the way his cheeks are probably turning pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“Turns out another year away didn’t change too much, then,” Gary says, his voice laced with amusement.

Ash knows it’s an empty insult. Whatever petty back-and-forth he and Gary used to thrive on years ago is mostly behind them, but he still sputters out a lame “Shut up” mid-sip of his cocktail, more out of instinct than anything. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of the dress shirt Dawn had forced him into earlier. It’s far too tight around the neck, but Dawn had shot him a look over a steaming iron and warned that if he showed up to his own party in a hoodie and cargo shorts, she’d disown him for committing a crime against fashion.

Ash could admit she might have had a point; everyone else was dressed up too. Guests had arrived head to toe in a dress code Ash hadn’t even been aware of. His mom had gone all out again for the party, with gold and green colour-coordinated decorations and tropical floral centrepieces to celebrate his Manalo Conference win. The whole garden was full of familiar faces, soft dresses and sharp suits, all gathered around tables beneath lanterns as the summer skies starts to darken.

Amongst the crowd, he watches for a moment as Brock spins Bonnie in a ridiculous circle that she keeps demanding to go faster under. Professor Oak is leading his mother in a dance that doesn’t match the upbeat tempo of the music playing, and Pikachu is darting between feet with Piplup and Psyduck in tow.

And his frown melts.

For a moment, Ash forgets all of Gary’s meaningless comments, focusing instead on the fact that his oldest friend and oldest rival had even bothered to show up. Walking into the garden earlier to the sound of his companions and friends celebrating had made his chest squeeze just as tightly as it did now.

He couldn’t have asked for a better welcome home.

But…

He catches the way Misty’s hair shimmers again under the lantern light as she spins, red strands catching the glow and dancing with her, and he becomes aware of the eyes on him as much as his own on her.

“That’s seven,” Gary states. “You’re staring.”

Ash turns away. “I'm not,” he lies.

Then, less than a second later, he’s looking back, blaming it on the fact that Misty shrieks with laughter. The swift scowl he’d been directing at Gary fades as she grins, her head tilting, eyes crinkling in delight when May grabs both her hands and pulls her into another twirl.

Gary sucks on his teeth. “Eight times in the last ten minutes.”

Ash just groans. “Do you count everything?”

“Only when it’s this entertaining. Did they not teach you how to ask someone to dance in Alola?”

The insinuation leaves Ash making a noise that isn’t quite a word, somewhere between a scoff and a cough. He turns to the buffet behind them and starts loading his plate, shoving food into his cheeks like a Patrat storing berries. “I’m not asking anyone to dance.”

Somehow, even the fancy cheese and cured meats taste different than they had minutes earlier. He forces himself to chew, to swallow a painful mouthful, and to stare at his shoes instead.

If he hadn’t already thought it before, he did now: Gary had no idea what he was talking about. Ash had been darting around guests since he'd arrived, and he'd danced plenty, with or without Misty. He'd only spoken to her twice all evening, both brief, both pleasant enough, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dance with her. Maybe he just wanted to talk. And that, he knew, could come later.

Party or not, being home always meant seeing Misty.

But even he was aware that this wasn’t like the usual times he’d returned home to find her flopped across his bed before scrambling to the garden for a battle with him. No, Misty had arrived at his party looking like she’d stepped off a Contest stage, with something sparkly in her hair that matched the way her dress looked like glitter when she shifted.

And, Ash thinks hurriedly, it’s not like he wasn’t allowed to look. To notice that her hair was longer than it had been on her trip to Alola.

“Thats nine. Still staring,” Gary says lazily, not even bothering to sound smug this time.

“I am not,” Ash hisses under his breath.

Gary just shrugs and pops a piece of pineapple into his mouth from Ash's plate. “Sure. Just don’t wait another eight years to ask her for that dance.”

He’s about to ask Gary what exactly is in his drink that has him acting insane, but there’s a weight to the comment that forces Ash to pause.

Eight years. They have passed quicker than he'd like to admit, celebrating a victory he'd been chasing all that time, standing there in the same garden of a house he left all that time ago.

When he left. When he met Pikachu, and met—

And once more, he finds red hair in a crowd of green and gold. This time, Misty glances up, catching his eye from across the garden and offering him a big, familiar smile.

His mouth goes so dry that he has to throw back the remainder of his drink just to force down the lump in his throat. His stomach flips, bubbles, at the mere thought of approaching her. He can feel, suddenly, the space that time has carved out without his permission.

Ash decides he doesn’t want to get used to whatever that feeling is.

Without another word, he shoves his empty glass into Gary’s hand. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, loosening the top button. Determination sets on his face, and he takes a step forward. It's more of a stomp than a stride towards the dance floor, which Gary is probably glad to have a front-row seat to after Ash has spent the last five minutes denying having any interest in.

But that seems to matter less and less with each step, because by the time he reaches her, Misty’s face lights up so brightly that it’s the only thing he can focus on.

Gary's laughter, however, still manages to filter through the crowds as he calls after him:

“I think that counts as an even ten, Champ!”

[electricmarshal]

i fear that i may be unable to write Charthur without angst. sure, i'm working on a fix-it fic of sorts, but apparently even in the warm, happy glow of being safe away from the gang, laid in a tent at the Wapiti Reservation with the little girl he and Charles have adopted (after saving her from the Murfrees), Arthur still decided to be Sad for a second.

Of course, Arthur knew he missed Isaac. Even on the days he pushed those agonising, gut wrenching feelings down below the mask of brutish apathy he'd carefully crafted over the years. That grief never left him. It didn't even shrink with time, like he'd been assured it would by the stranger who'd picked him up out of the dirt outside Eliza's little house. He'd fallen down where he stood when he'd seen those graves, his legs unable to hold him up anymore as bile burnt his nose and throat. And that grief still felt just as prominent now; just as much of a rock lodged behind his ribs, making it hard to breathe whenever he looked too long at the setting sun and thought about the life his little boy could've had. The life he should've had. 

[saiyanwitcher]

IRL, we’ve had 4 races. I wonder How Charles and Max in SOTS? Maybe they have a good car, smooth races, and a happy life.not suffering like me as a Ferrari fan. I miss them so much💝

I have been thinking about this a lot myself!!!!!!!!

Following how the current season is going so far, I can see Max having to work out a lot of frustration out of Charles' back and leg, maybe some fucking the frustration out as well. SOTS Max having his first real travel experiences on Vista Jet, and feeling so out of place in the paddock.

I have so many ideas for a part 2 of this fic but also 0 time to work on it 🤧

The mental image of Max in his old jeans and a T-shirt, showing up for work at the Ferrari factory and someone looks at him and calls the police because they think he's homeless is sustaining me. 😭😭 Charles having to save him because Max doesn't speak Italian, but he swears he is there to see "Charles Leclerc."

[pretty-little-mind33]

heyy hellooo how are youu ? I just wanted to ask if you have any fics in you draft and if you could show or tell us?

--🌾

Hii! I've been well, thank you! Still kinda busy but hanging in there.

I do have some!

I have a Tangerine one: a meet cute (kinda 😉) at a pub and then I have two James Potter ones I am working on. One is a smut with switch!James 🥵

I also finally got to starting Chapter 9 of I Knew You Were Trouble but it is nowhere near done yet! I have it all mapped out though, it just needs to be written!

[marcuspikegf]

johnny storm x desi reader <3

: ̗̀➛ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚(tea and yap) ۫ ꣑ৎ

or, there’s a new tea shop open in town, full of places to sit and talk. johnny loves tea, but the owner of the place has something new to talk about every day he comes to visit…he sort of likes these conversations, he thinks. he likes listening to her, whatever she’s talking about, and she’s always got something to say to him. about his hair, about his shirt, and he can’t help but fall for her as she laughs, all jangly earrings and pretty smiles. he likes the sound her bangles make as she froths the milk for his tea, and he’s sick of sue teasing him about his crush on her <3 he’s okay with just crushing from the sidelines, but an attack on the city changes everything, for him and for her.

this one’s going to be a little self indulgent :)

[bijackkellys]

interesting things are happening in my google docs