#I specifically remember finding one Four/Colours fic and going:

[durudurururu]

Hi! Just popping in to shake you by the shoulders like a maraca because oh my goodness, oh my goodness, OH MY GOODNESS

I’ve only done the two comments for them cause my computer’s been broken for the past few months and I can barely type off a keyboard but I need you to know I am constantly screaming internally about your fics, like constantly, like constantly constantly, like AHHHHGGGGHHGGHHHHHHHH HALFGOAPWGWOSHEKQOSGQKGSPRGWGDOOR

I love them :3

IT'S YOU!! I LOVE GETTING YOUR COMMENTS ON MY FICS I ALWAYS GET SO HAPPY THAT I SOMETIMES FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA CRY. It's hard to believe that someone actually likes my fics (Esp cause not everyone likes first person POV) but I have to believe it as the numbers don't lie lol. I've been working on the newest chapter of Poker Face for like...almost 2 weeks, and when I want some motivation I just open the comments and re-read them.

...Thank you😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also have a sneak peak of next chapter >;)

I sigh as I slowly wake up, even if I really want to go back to bed—though I'm already in bed anyways. I don't dare open my eyes, even when someone starts shaking me.

"Fourrrrrrr. Four, wake uppppppppp.", a familiar voice says, and I believe it's Wind. I just grab my blanket and pull it over my head, and I can feel Wind pout. But instead of trying more, someone else joins him.

"Wake up, birthday boy. If you don't I won't give you your present.", we all stay quiet for a moment before Wind practically screams.

"IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?!?"

[insomniac4000]

Right Person Wrong Time A Willne fic

Will sat there, his blue eyes brimming with tears as he stared at the photo. You were there, big smile on your face, eyes listening, nails manicured to perfection as the diamond and sapphire ring sat on your forth finger of your left hand you held up so proudly. The problem? The man in the photo next to you wasn’t him. He was tall and with dark hair but that was where the similarities ended, his eyes were dark not only in colour but Will always thought there was a dark tone to them and he didn’t like the way he was holding your left wrist in the photo, it was possessive in nature like he was telling the whole world to back off, it was like it was a specific message to Will to leave you alone.

The first time you had introduced Will to David it was a polite meeting but awkward, it would have been obvious to anyone else that the pair took an immediate dislike to each other but were putting aside their differences for you. That was only eight months ago, a month before Will and Mia broke up and now only eight months later you two were engaged, it was moving quick, too quick for Will’s liking but he knew he had to be the supportive friend, the role he had played to you since you first met at uni.

“Come ‘ere,” Will managed to say when you had come home after your weekend away where the engagement took place. He opened his arms and you fell into them giggling, still on a high from all the excitement.

“All we need to do now is find someone for you, we’re thinking of getting married in December so you’ve got a little while to find a date,” you explained to him as the pair of you let go of the hug and made your way to the sofa.

“December?” Will asked his voice going a little high.

“I know, I know it’s soon but David said it’s doable.”

“I thought you always wanted to get married in summer,” Will replied crossing one of his long limbs over the other, his grey tracksuit bottoms riding up his ankles as he did so.

“I did, but David said doing it on our first anniversary would be sweet, and he doesn’t want to wait,” you shrugged.

“What about what you want?” Will asked. For the past few months he had grown tired of watching you bow down to David’s every whim. He knew he didn’t like David but this was more than that, he had slowly started seeing you change and he was worried for you, he had never thought David was right for you and now other people were starting to see the same thing which had only increased his worry, it had proved it wasn’t just Will’s dislike of David clouding his mind there was something happening and it only increased his concern.

“It’ll be fine, it’s just a compromise,” you explained fiddling with your hair, a habit you had since you were very young.

“Y/N a compromise means you both have to give up something. Look I’m not going to dictate anything to you but it just seems to be you’re the one giving up stuff more. You’re moving in with him even though that means giving up your dog, now he’s planning the wedding? Something just makes me feel really uneasy,” Will told you earnestly. You looked at your lap in embarrassment, Hercules was your six year old black Labrador whom you adopted four years ago. David had managed to convince you it was the best thing for you to move into his rented home rather than he move into your house which you owned, you can’t remember how it made more sense to do this but it did. The saddest part was there was a no pets rule so in a couple of weeks time Hercules was moving in with Will.

“If you’re having second thoughts about taking him then I can make other arrangements..” you suggested causing Will to shake his head furiously.

“No, I’d much rather have him here where you can see him and know he will be looked after, I just think it’s sad you’re having to give him up,” Will told you in earnest, you nodded in both understanding and in agreement as you let out a small sigh. Your life had changed so much in the last few weeks, you remember pleading with David to let you keep him, you had even argued about it, in trying to make it up to you he had booked a last minute get away to the Maldives which is where he ended up proposing. Your mind was in a spin, you had so much you needed to do and sort out and very little time in which to do it in, you didn’t know whether you were coming or going most of the time now and spent a lot of your days confused. Usually it was spending time with your friends including Will which gave you some much needed down time but right in this moment you were feeling more confused than ever.

You had cut that visit short, you genuinely had a headache but there was also a slight discomfort being on Will’s sofa that you hadn’t felt before. It was a mix of feeling there was something wrong with you being there mixed with not feeling as welcome as you had before but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Really you had mainly gone there to pick up Hercules as Will was looking after him during your break. When you got to your house you were a little surprised to see David sitting on the sofa on his laptop, he had told you he was going to work most of the day so assumed he would be at his own flat.

“Hey babe, great news,” David smiled. You frowned at the sight of his feet with his brown shoes on resting on your coffee table, it was one that you had picked up from Marketplace and had antiqued yourself. You house was small, two bedrooms and one bathroom but it was yours. You had scrimped hard to gather enough money together to buy it and you had a hobby of making furniture and interiors unique so everything in that house meant a lot to you, now you were thinking about it you were very sad that you were going to have to say goodbye to all of it.

“What?” You asked clipping off Hercules’ lead before sitting down next to him, you tapped his legs in an attempt that he would get the hint and place his feet down but he never did.

“I’ve found our wedding venue, although the only date they had was November 20th which is a little earlier than planned but we’ll sort it all out.”

“What?” You managed to choke out, to say you were in shock was an understatement, you had only been engaged for less than twenty four hours and hadn’t even talked about potential venue ideas.

“It’s the country club a friend of my uncle owns, I didn’t want to wait considering we want to get married so soon, it’s an old family friend so we can get a great deal but still need a deposit to secure the date.”

“David, please PLEASE tell me you didn’t put a deposit down?” You asked, you ran your hand down your face as you watched his mouth slightly twitch into a scowl. A country club would be way down on your list of places you wanted to get married, not that you had anything against them say but you preferred old buildings, or something a little bit different, something with character.

“Why wouldn’t I?” David replied nonchalantly not seeing the problem.

“I would like to think we would make big decisions like that together!” You exclaimed raising your voice a little, you were angry and hurt. All of the excitement over the engagement had just washed away from you, it was like all of the fun, joy and anticipation had been taken away from you.

“Well I’d like to think that my fiancée would be a bit more fucking grateful I’m actually helping out instead of sitting on my arse!” David snapped back, causing you to physically step back a little, you had never heard him that angry before and in your opinion he didn’t have a right to be.

The following day Will made his way into the office, he was filming with James which he loved, despite the challenges that came with it but he was struggling to muster up any excitement.

“Hey man, how are you?” James asked with a concerned look on his face as the northerner walked in and slammed his backpack on the desk.

“Fine,” the Geordie sighed but the musician frowned and placed a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“I saw on social media. How are you doing?”

“I was okay, she came over to get her dog and she was just so different, he’s going to control every aspect of that wedding and then her life and then I’m never going to see her again.” Will sighed in despair.

“Do you really think he’s that bad a person?” James asked, he had only met the guy once and although David seemed a bit stuck up there were no major red flags.

“He’s making her give up her dog James, the guy’s a prick. Let’s film this video,” Will added sadly taking off his hoodie to start the shoot.

Everyone in the office was worried about Will, from Mikey and Orlaith whom he saw for multiple hours a day, to Jim who saw him once a week when he travelled up to film, to other people he shared the office building with such as Chris, Theo and Chip. On multiple occasions Chris asked Will to go out with him to see if they could get him a girl and he could forget all about you but Will never took it up. Will was honest when he went onto The Fella’s podcast and said all he did was go to work, go home and watch the TV. His mind was always clouded by you, mostly the thought was were you okay as he had a feeling that deep down you weren’t happy, and Lord knew he was miserable. The two of you had met first year of uni in the halls, he had the room opposite you. He was a hapless eighteen year old who didn’t know much of anything, you taught him to cook just a few basic recipes but it stopped him from living off kebabs and vodka. When you had to move out of halls the two of you moved into a house share together with two other friends but Will then broke your heart when he  announced he wasn’t going to pursue his degree anymore. The two of you had one drunken kiss one night but when the two of you both admitted it was a mistake and you were better off friends in order to save face and that was that. Will then got a girlfriend and from that moment the pair of you had never been single at the same time. When Will got with Mia you honestly had thought that was it, they had drifted apart a couple of months before the split but by that point you had started to date David and you assumed that they would get back together. The moping shocked you a little as you had never seen Will like that before but little did you know Will wasn’t just mourning his relationship with Mia, he was also starting to mourn his friendship with you.

Will sighed when he heard a knock on the door, it was seven pm so he assumed it was some kids messing about or something wanting to sell something, the sound of the football match flowing in the background, Will wasn’t sure what the score was or who was even playing, his mind too preoccupied with other things. His phone buzzed, to his surprise he saw your name flash up, he scrambled off his sofa when he read the words ‘it’s me I’m outside’.

He opened the door, the rain hammering down causing your hair to be stuck to the side of your face, Hercules was by your side and similarly soggy.

“Come in out the cold, what’s happened?” Will asked rushed, noticing the suitcase by your other side.

“We had an argument. Will…” you started but couldn’t continue as you watched the tall man walk straight over to the kitchen. He placed the kettle on before shuffling to the bathroom, not a minute later he reappeared with two towels, throwing one in your direction before placing the other one over Hercules who thanks Will with a good shake.

“Did he hurt you?” Will asked not looking at you once, he couldn’t take it if you said yes and he could see something.

“No, well he grabbed my wrists to try and stop me from leaving,” you explained. If Will wasn’t touching your dog right now he would have balled his fists up, you continued to talk after some silence, it being evident Will wasn’t going to fill it.

“You were right Will. He’s all wrong for me, he tried to tell me it was because you were jealous but I don’t care of that’s true or not. He organised the whole wedding without me, I can’t believe I almost let him give up Hercules, I mean how stupid can I be,” you started wail, you weren’t just upset you were angry at yourself. The mullet haired man embraced you as quick as he could, the pair of you stood there swaying from side to side for a while enjoying each other’s company. You two hadn’t hugged like that since your grandmother had died.

Very few words were exchanged that night, one of the things they really treasured about their friendship was they could be in each other’s company and know exactly what the other person wanted. The spare room was offered without question, tea was drank and coffee was purchased the next morning. You thanked Will as the pair of you sipped your beverages, hot for you and cold for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will proposed as he swivelled in his seat to face you.

“Shoot,” you replied giving him a small smile, so much had happened over the past few days all you wanted to do was cry but you were determined to keep a smile on your face, it was just who you are.

“You said yesterday that you didn’t care if I was jealous of that arsehole or not, I just want to know what you meant?” Will felt guilty for doing so but the thing that made him up most of the night was because he was playing that part of the sentence over and over in his head, he needed to know.

“It’s not important,” you shrugged it off taking another sip of your coffee.

“It is to me. I know I was right about him but I have to be honest, part of me was jealous,” Will admitted sighing, he felt like he was going to burst if he kept it in much longer. Your eyes widened and jaw dropped as you took in the information.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You exclaimed, you’d had enough of men lying to you and using you and never thought Will would be part of that list.

“Because I’m a selfish bastard and can’t wait until you meet someone new and I go through all of this heartache again. I’m also a gentlemen and know you’re far from in the position to go down the road again, I just need you to know.” There was silence after Will spoke which was deafening to him.

“If only you had told me this five fucking years ago. You’re right Will, I need some time to get over all of this, but when I do you’ll be the first person I call,” you said placing a hand on his knee. The right time will come.

[dovand]

i am as always thinking about 14 and the nobles... specifically 14 & shaun. CRIMINAL lack of 14 & shaun content . excuse me that is my emotional support deranged lovers-in-law prongs of a queerplatonic throuple V. that is my little scrinkly wet cat and his chill saint bernard friend. that is my symbiotic relationship weirdos who sleep back-to-back to 14 can a) leech his body heat b) cuddle donna c) not fall off the bed. that is my favourite “both wake up early but one of them is being clung to like they are a teddy bear and it is Not Shaun, who is making ‘too bad’ faces at 14 and tiptoeing away” dynamic.

(14 either ends up dozing again after he wakes up early or just lays there curled up thinking—but, either way, when shaun shows up with breakfast in bed every sunday, he is treated to the beautiful sight of the two huge autism creature eyes peering up at him from behind the most bedraggled mop of hair ever seen. whether there are any thoughts behind those eyes depends on whether their owner has been napping or Pondering)

(yes this is all made up in my head!!! yes i am dismayed by there only being FOUR FICS (4!!) using it as a tag and none of them (afaict) doing it in a qpr way. where is my deranged weirdplatonic polycule!!!)

further insanity under the cut pleasseee please please read. please i need to be insane about this with people

(also btw this post is about queerplatonic doctordonna, doctordonna shippers i love you and you are welcome to contribute but it is a Little squicky for me so if tag ur additions (so i have a heads-up) that would be so lovely and i would adore you forever <3)

shaun likes listening to people ramble and 14 likes rambling so it is a regular occurrence to find the two of them like. standing in the kitchen holding cups of tea except one of them is actually drinking the tea and one of them is talking too rapidly about equivalent exchange to remember to blink, let alone have a sip of earl gray that has veered violently past lukewarm and is headed straight for room temperature

if 14 is in a not-wordy mood tho… thru shaun’s expert tutelage he has mastered the art of the Dad Nod. he passes shaun in the hall and gives him a little nod. shaun gives him one back. 0 words are spoken but they understand each other on a deeper level than if there had been.

they go on a Family Outing to a thrift store. rose and donna disappear to the dressier sections. shaun creeps along the racks of trousers, solemnly comparing seemingly identical pairs of jeans. 14 follows him and stares for a while, then silently hands him a loudly patterned pair of shorts. shaun takes them without question and adds them to his basket & sylvia loses her mind just a little bit when she sees him wearing them

(^ this inspired by going thrifting w my friend and looking @ everything and then finding her dad looking thru the racks of shorts comparing two beige ones, and my friend handing him a pair of pink shorts with penguins on and him buying them. because he has some . i think plaid shorts? at home and when he wore them his wife said he looked gay. so he’s trying to do it More) (it's an incredible family dynamic there. i have no idea what is going on)

god jesus. 14 learns how to cook so he can be the housething (as opposed to housewife or househusband. he is just a weirdgenderthing. little creature). someone buys him a nice apron and he wears it with so much delight. chases everyone else out of the kitchen so he can concoct something lovely. runs out into the garden to stick something into an oven in the tardis kitchen because “i am not working with enough ovens, here, people!”. organises the pantry and gets this crazed look if anyone tries to stop him. “how will i know where things a—” “it will be LABELLED.” brandishes a label maker that DEFINITELY is not from modern-day earth given that it seems to take dictation as input and can print in colour and has not needed a refill of paper even though he has extensively labelled EVERY PLASTIC BOX of stuff in the pantry

sometimes he gets into Moods where he needs to solve a problem before it makes his head explode and that used to be a like. tinkering in the tardis thing. where he’d have himself and whatever poor companion he was with just floating in the time vortex for a week while he tries to make this bit of the tardis do what he wants it to. now it’s a day or two spent almost entirely in the kitchen trying to find the scientifically optimal method by which to make meringues. he starts gesturing dramatically with a spatula forgetting it is not a sonic screwdriver. makes a sonic spatula. realises he doesn’t often need to like. scan a pancake for malware. sadly puts the sonic spatula away

he is absolutely a nightmare to watch movies with btw bc a) can’t sit still b) so tall. either he is bouncing his leg and shaking the whole couch or he is stretched out across the entire sofa. no in between. donna buys a thick rug so he can just lay on the floor. the rug is TOO comfortable and he starts just spending time laying on the floor which would be fine if he thought to turn the lights on because people keep almost stepping on him while he’s having 4am Floor Time (on the nights he's not drooling all over donna's pillow)

if anyone else has thoughts about Them PLEASe share i will love you so much and forever. doctor~donna/shaun weirdcule is the only thing in my head

[gerec]

Maybe you’ve been asked this before but which enemies to friends to lovers fics do you recommend

I remember one where Erik and Charles had a connection but Charles didn’t response and Erik made out in front of him at a party to rile him up but now I can’t find it anymore

I'm don't recall the fic you're talking about (or that scene specifically sorry) but I'm happy to share some of my favorite 'Enemies to Friends to Lovers' and 'Enemies to Lovers' fics!

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives by kianspo

Non-powered college AU. Erik and Charles have nothing in common until they end up having sex at someone's party. They don't have much in common after that, either, but find each other a hard habit to quit.

Doors Unlocked and Open by Clocks

Charles is certain that the new auditor Erik has come to ruthlessly slash at his department’s ailing budget. Sure enough, all they do is argue, bicker and fight.

Charles has never wanted to kiss anyone more in his life.

Special Topics in Mutant Studies by populuxe

The trouble with Charles Xavier isn’t just that he teaches genetics and holds terrible views about mutant rights—it’s also becoming increasingly clear that everyone but Erik seems to love him.

Sharp Edges by Nalou

Erik has never been good at staying out of trouble, to the point of thinking he might be a magnet for assholes (funny, since he's also kind of a real magnet, but that's not the point). He hates it, it has effectively ruined his life until now, and he sincerely hopes he'll be able to blend into the crowd of normal people in his new city. But luck still isn't on his side. His head is still full of fear, pain and anger. His new probation worker is a hairy, cigar-smoking cunt. His new high school is filled with mutantphobes, and he's barely arrived when he comes across the worst of them: Charles Posh Twat Xavier. Okay. This is war, then.

We're Not Really Falling Apart, We're Just Incomplete by Harleydoll

“To my knowledge,” Erik said softly, as he examined his hostage, “The only time people aren't scared of me is if they've come across worse. “And honestly, I didn't think there was much worse than me in this city. Curious, don't you think?”

Xavier's eyes flickered, jaw clenched. “Are you going to kill me?”

“The look on your face suggests you're asking me to.”

The Skin Outside Is Taking You For A Ride by blarfkey

The fights between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are legendary, and after four years Principal McTaggart is sick of it. After their most recent screaming match in debate club, Principal McTaggart gives Erik and Charles an ultimatum: they must help Raven work on the Senior play and the next fight that breaks out between them will result in expulsion.

Forced to be civil for the first time in their lives, Erik and Charles must reconcile their tumultuous rivalry with the new versions of each other they slowly discover.

the way it travels in and keeps emitting light by populuxe

Charles and Erik aren’t friends: their mutual dislike was both instant and enduring, from that very first day Raven introduced them. But when Charles gets into a life-altering accident, the connections between all three of them start to fundamentally shift, too.

Rum and Coke by JackyJango

Erik watches raptly as Charles sips on his scotch and coke; watches the high spots of colour on the apple of his cheeks, watches the line of his pale throat exposed above the blue t-shirt, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows the drink, and his gentle hold on the flimsy plastic cup. A loose chestnut curl flails with the action.

Though the party is in full swing around them, Charles is only on his second drink. Not that Erik is keeping a tally-- of course-- he’s just bored.

invisible string by soetry (WIP)

“We’re just raising a child together,” Erik snapped. “Relax about it.”

in which charles xavier and erik lehnsherr were political opponents until they had to become allies until they horrifically became best friends and then accepted being awesome co-dads and everyone needs to calm down about it. especially them themselves.

no such thing as bad publicity by Ireliss

Several months ago, Charles Xavier and his twenty mutant students were kicked out into the streets after the Xavier mansion was seized by Sebastian Shaw to settle an old debt. At the same time, Erik Lehnsherr, founder and CEO of Lehnsherr Steel was embroiled in a publicity scandal that resulted in a backlash against his business. In an attempt to repair his reputation, Erik charitably opened his penthouse duplex to Xavier and his children. The kids are loud and hyperactive, and Xavier too damn kind and earnest and hopeful, but eventually they settled into an uneasy peace.

Now, months later, the publication of a provocative magazine article threatens to throw everything into chaos once more...

Enemies With Benefits by bettysofia

Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

'Tis the Season by ikeracity

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik were bitter enemies in college. Now Erik runs a mutant community center, and Charles is a successful physician. When the community center launches a volunteer-run free clinic focused on mutant health, their paths cross once again. Old wounds are reopened, and old grudges spring back to life. But will old feelings reignite as well?

only the sweetest words remain (accidentally welcome to the rest of your lives remix) by ikeracity

When the Prince of Wales comes to study for a semester in New York, Erik resolves to hate him immediately on principle. The last thing he expects is for a round of drunken sex at a frat party to turn into a habit, and for that habit to turn into something far riskier for them both — and far truer than anything they've ever known.

Playing House by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Erik Lehnsherr has been 'fighting for mutant rights' for the last couple years. Some might call it terrorism, but those people were narrow-minded. Unfortunately, this means that when Magda Maximoff died, no one was able to locate him to let him know that his children were without a guardian. Charles Xavier was selected as their foster parent instead, and had been doing an excellent job for the past year. Erik is back now and has no intention of being separated from his children, but working together for the kids is easier said than done.

Enemies With Benefits by FuryRed

Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are the leaders of two opposing mutant factions; their rivalry played out over televised debates and in the articles of tabloid newspapers.

The tension between them is so palpable that, naturally, everyone assumes they're fucking- which they are, not that Erik is particularly happy about it... But he is content to console himself with the idea that it's just sex and nothing else, and that he is in no way interested in the spoilt little rich boy he can't seem to stay away from.

But then an attempt is made on both their lives and they are relocated to a safe house- a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods. At first Erik hates being forced into such close quarters with Charles, but gradually he begins to realise that 'hate' might not be the emotion driving him after all...

all your love is sunlight by ikeracity

Over twenty years ago, the world ended in an inferno. From the ashes of what was once a modern world, survivors gathered what remained and slowly knit civilization back together. The Keep is one of the largest new cities in the north, ruled by the iron fist of a mutant named Apocalypse. He keeps an inner circle of favored mutants around him, a mixture of some of the most powerful mutants to walk the earth. But when his most prized treasure, Charles Xavier, escapes from the Keep, he sends wanderer and hunter Erik Lehnsherr after him.

An easy task, Erik figures. But soon enough, he discovers that Charles is much more of a handful than he'd bargained for. Their tumultuous meeting sets into motion a chain of events that will lead them deep into unfamiliar territory--in both the world and in matters of the heart.

It's Office Not Orifice by Fullmetalcarer

Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier. He's arrogant, patronising, condescending and entitled. He doesn't look like a head of department, he looks like some twink who should be standing on a street corner in too tight jeans and a cut-off tee.

But the sex is great. The angry, hate fuelled, venom filled sex is fantastic. Until it's not.

[chaoskiro]

Voiceteam roundup part art

Since there´s still a couple of the round three works I contributed to that haven't been made public I figured I could make a cover art round up today. I ended up making a lot of cover art for other people's podfics and turns out I really enjoy it! I have learned so many new things in photopea, it's been great. I'll try to go in chronological order from first to last. Here goes!

I (as always) began very ambitiously (is it even a bite if it doesn't look like more than you can chew?) with this coverart:

It was quite a bit of work isolating all the hats from their background and covering the musicians on the stage in a way that looked natural by copying other parts of the background. This was also before I found out you could make a border around text in photopea so that was done by putting the same words in a slightly bigger font behind the other words and fiddling and cursing until it looked decent, I do think it's a nice effect.

Then comes this one:

This story is so beautiful. It's a moment between Max and Robin right after Starcourt where they sit and talk on the edge of an ambulance. I really wanted to show their backs, but I couldn't find any good screengrabs that would fit, so I went with this idea of the silhouettes. The robin one is actually taken from the bathroom scene and I can't remember where the Max one is taken from, just that I made sure she had the two braids in it like she has in the final Starcourt scene. I had to do so much fiddling to get their silhouettes properly shaped, because both of them had complicated backgrounds that photopea wanted to lump in with them. That is also part of why there's the slight glow around them, it softened the edges and made them more forgiving. This is probably the cover art I've ever made I am the most proud of.

I had so many ideas for this one. I'm pretty glad I ended up going with this one though. The neon lettering was harder to get to work than expected, I spent ages fiddling with that, and then making the poster fit in more with the picture and not feel stamped on took a bit too. I was really glad to find that background on pixabay since it really helped making the edges of Eddie's hair not stand out so much (that hair is a nightmare to remove background for). This one feels like a study in crucial details that no one would know that I spent so much time on, but would stand out if I hadn't spent that time.

Speaking of things I had a hundred ideas for. This one is actually the one where I worked on the most separate ideas. I think I had four beginnings on drafts that all looked wildly different plus an idea that never saw light of day because I am still suffering from the lenovo AAAA prank.

See, the thing is there is this bouquet of flowers that is absolutely central to this story and also extremely well described, so I at first wanted to include that on the cover or at least something resembling it. As it turns out when wondering the free-to-use pictures on the net that might not be as easy as that and even finding a bouquet with just about the right colourscheme turned out to be hard, and so did tuning the hues of a bouquet nicely.

In the end what decided it most of all was also having to include so many names and that I really fell in love with this specific flower mentioned in the fic.

Making the coverart for this one was mostly about learning how to manipulate the shape of text and exploring the many different colours of fire until I found the right one to pick for the text. (It's a Dutch translation of a Good Omens fic for those of you wondering)

This one, for me, ended up being an exploration in remembering what my grandma's videotapes used to look like, and yet not at all being able to find a good base image for making a more film-like tape case before going with this simple option. I do kinda enjoy making covers that seem like real things that could exist.

Aaaand last, but not least:

This one caused me trouble. Mostly because my ideas where too hard to execute and also because it's a very short fic that doesn't give many visuals. All the others are rooted in some visual from the fic, but this one is a conversation on parenting that doesn't include many visuals that I felt like vibed with the fic as a whole. So I ended up grabbing onto the fatherly aspect of it all.

This photo originally had a black background, but I felt like that would clash with the vibes, so I decided to change that, then cursed a bunch when I found out that was easier said than done, did a bunch of things that felt illegal and arrived at this little thing.

Thus ended my voiceteam cover art journey. I have really taken a liking to doing this, which maybe shouldn't have taken me by surprise since I also love illustrating songs. There's something about having text and a story and a picture all mixing together that I really enjoy. I plan to make many more, I kinda had a day where I was just itching to make some, two days after the regular rounds of voiceteam ended, but I didn't want to take any points from tie-break participants. We will see what the future brings.

[russeliarat]

So I had this odd dream last night that I feel like could be a cool multi-chapter fic if I ever fill in the blank spaces and get the courage to write an LU fic. 

In the dream, I was playing a lost piece of Zelda media (note that it felt like it came from piecing together memories and I can’t tell you why I feel that way) that was very specifically for the 3ds but had switch level graphics. It felt almost like an extended trailer or video of sorts because of how much I can’t remember.

Anyway, Four specifically was the protag of the game and he had 0 memories of his past besides his name and vague memories of the Colours - but I’m talking about that he remembers specific voices that would ring in his mind constantly and so he assigns them names based on the colours of his tunic and their personalities. He had no guide in the game, but he responded to whatever I (the player) said, which led me to believe that the game required the player to be the guide through voice recognition. Note that I take the camera’s perspective in the dream.

The game started with some kind of ‘ancient prophecy’ thing but I don’t recall anything from it if I’m honest. We both started in front of this huge castle-like cathedral and the front doors were open, but the inside was pitch black. Four had a broken Four Sword so we didn’t want to risk him going in and dying immediately and so went around to a side entrance in one of the towers. The journey there is all fuzzy but I remember the boss really well.

The room was laid out as a single circular pool with the edge surrounded by a stone border and then wooden planks leading up. Right before the stone was a wooden ladder that led to a second floor of similar wooden planks circling the rim of the room. The boss was basically a male version of a Great Fairy from BotW, but had a mask completely covering his face so he was unidentifiable. He burst out of the pool and we found it near impossible to beat the merman with Four’s broken sword. However, the only guide for the game I could find online suggested that we should have already had the weaponry and items required to defeat him. We also found out that Four could die, but would respawn and remember the feelings. To prevent any further trauma, we both agreed to take extreme caution.

On the second floor of the room, there was a tiny crack in the stone wall neither of us had noticed before and the guide mentioned nothing about it. Four bolted in with me behind (it’s unclear whether I had my real short irl body or if I took a different form because of the perspective). It led to a dock-like separate room, and when the merman crashed through the wall after us, the water from his pool spilled in and flooded it right to the top of the docks. We ran to a small vent in the room where Four hid. When the merman jumped at us, he faceplanted into the wall and fell to the docks. Four attempted to swing his sword at his head, but instead completely knocked the mask off and revealed a very confused Hyrule.

With the mask gone, he had 0 idea what was happening, but remembered travelling in a large group and suddenly ending up in the room with a tail, where a mask laid on the stone rim. It had a lot of magical energy pouring from it and Hyrule had no idea what kind, but his curiosity won and he put the mask on. He didn’t even know his own name, but responded well to me calling him Hyrule and took in the name. Through Hyrule, Four learns that different Zeldas are trapped in the cathedral and need help getting out, so we set off but not before Hyrule gives us a pearl, saying he doesn’t know what it does but has a gut feeling that it just may help us.

I don’t remember much of what happens after, but I do know that each Link in the Chain were bosses similar to Hyrule with their own gimmick, who had to have their masks removed to prevent any further brainwashing or whatever was going on. Specifically Wild needed four ghosts defeated before we could get to him, and that’s cool. After they were defeated, they would tell us a little background to what they remember and seem to disappear. When we got to their Zeldas, it appeared that something had happened and they couldn’t meet with us in person. Eventually, all eight other Links were rescued, and most of the previous events were found out, all except for one huge chunk. Since no other Links were left, and only Dot remained to be saved, we went to get her since we assumed she could help.

We had to climb to get to the tallest tower in the cathedral to enter the window at the top, which was the only entrance. We saw Dot in the shadows in our peripheral and Four shouted up to her to help us up (very Rapunzel-like). I realized something was off when I couldn’t see any of her usual pinks or her ginger hair, them instead being washed-out greys, blacks, and white, but it was too late when I shouted to stop. Dot turned around and threw us both from the side of the tower and onto the Courtyard below. I remember this because there was a very specific piece of artwork in my dream that reflected my old artstyle for this scene. Four had braces fsr, which I know is practically impossible for a medieval boy, but I like the look ngl.

After we fell, the Colours jumped down into our plain of view with masks, and basically forced us to fight them. Four was real confused because how the hell were they there when he could split or merge because of the still very broken Four Sword and his presence. We struggled because they were so damn agile, but when Four did land a hit on Red, it went straight through his shoulder like a ghost. Eventually we defeated them - note how their masks couldn’t be taken off so were defeated in battle - and finally learned what happened to the Chain, and it absolutely broke Four.

Essentially, the Chain was still looking after a dying Twilight and were all separated in some way because of arguing, finding treatments, grieving, or where with Twi. Each and every one of them were visited and killed by Dink, except Four, who was praying at a Goddess Statue for Twilight’s health and to cool down. Dink mocked Four for being the last one alive and broke his sword, meaning he couldn’t split anymore and the Colours went completely silent in his mind - so basically Four thought they were dead. Right before he died, Four wished that the Chain could live even a little bit longer, even if it seemed selfish to others. When he died, it was against the Hylia’s statue, and so it’s up for debate whether Hylia granted his wish or Four’s mind made it to cope before he died.

So yeah, the cathedral was the setting because he died against Hylia’s statue and was under her watch. The reason we had to rescue Zeldas and fight bosses was because it was what Four’s young mind defaulted to when thinking of a journey - to rescue others and defeat monsters. The reason the Zeldas weren’t there other than Dot was because Four never knew how they looked or what they were like. The reason the Chain wore masks and were bosses was because Four never got to save them and gained an incredible amount of guilt, and by confronting them, he was able to get some closure. The Four Sword never got fixed and the Colours were like ghosts because Four believed that they had died and his brothers could never be contacted again.

[jennagrinsoverml]

ML Fic Recs - Ladynoir

I think most readers can appreciate a good rec list, but it’s often the same fics that I see recced again and again. I get why they’re recced - they’re amazing! But I want help finding fic I haven’t already read. So I decided to be the change I want to see in the world. The rule: the fic must have less than a thousand kudos on AO3 (but I’m trying to limit to fics that have less than 500.) Obviously this means a lot of my favourites are not included here, but you’ve probably read all of those already anyway. 

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

To get things started and in honour of the quality ladynoir content we just got (which I’m hoping will inspire even more quality fan content!), let’s have some ladynoir recs. Fics are in no particular order.

Amnesiac? More like Amnesi-Chat by therealjanebingley

Oblivio's back, and this time only Chat Noir gets hit. Based on his limited knowledge and the way Ladybug acts towards him, he makes some assumptions.

One-shot. This is hilarious. From Chat’s genuine glee about his superheroes to Ladybug’s affectionate indulgence to having Chat provide an “outside perspective” on Ladybug’s non-platonic behaviour towards him to the teasing... I could see this actually happening in an Oblivio 2.0 episode.

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss...it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. 

What's your favourite colour? by @hermionemonica

Ladybug and Chat Noir sit on a rooftop, watching the sunset.

One-shot. This fic is short and sweet and absolutely lovely. It’s set post-reveal and despite only being 566 words it’s full of sweetness and feeling.

Margins of Error by orphan_account

“Do you…” Ladybug's voice is at an almost-whisper. He can feel her breath fire-hot against his face. “Do you want me to show you how I think they should write our kiss?”

Adrien isn’t here anymore, leave a message after the tone.

--

Adrien was raised on order. His life is meticulously planned, each day as reliable as the equations he studies in physics and calculus. But Ladybug- Ladybug always has him at a loss.

One-shot. Okay, so I know the author of this one since I download all my favourite fics, but since they’ve orphaned it I’m going to respect that. However, since the author was kind enough to leave the work up so people can continue to enjoy it, I’m going to suggest that people do so! Ladynoir kisses featuring my absolute favourite dynamic: sexually assertive Ladybug and receptive Chat Noir. (Don’t take this to mean the fic has sexual content - it’s just kissing.) AMAZING.

Liquid Luck by @somethingvaguetodo

Ladybug enlists Chat Noir's help in decoding the remaining ingredients for the power-up transformation potions. Together, they work on creating them, and possibly destroying the barriers between them.

Multi-chapter. The riddles of the secret potion ingredients are fun to think about, Ladybug and Chat Noir both get to show off their smarts, and the trust and support between the two of them is showcased. Perfect ladynoir.

when you weren't mine to lose by @bugsandchatons

Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Multi-chapter. This is what happens when Ladybug loses Chat Noir. It hurts in all the best ways and the writing is absolutely gorgeous and somehow we still get a happy ending!

well if i'm beautiful and you're beautiful then who's saving paris? by celebreultimaverba

Chat flirts. Surprisingly, it works.

And then it backfires.

One-shot. This one is so cute and sweet! It’s a quick read but you’ll be smiling by the end of it.

sometimes the dreamers finally wake up by magesamell

"Four days ago a mermaid flooded Paris and an ancient guardian introduced himself to his father as a substitute Chinese tutor. He had thought that would be the end of it."

Ladybug tells Chat Noir all of her secrets.

One-shot. Post-Syren. The fic we all desperately need about Ladybug actively working to restore the balance of her and Chat’s relationship after Fu messes with that. It’s not overly romantic, but it’s absolutely perfect.

i fall in love just a little, oh, just a little by @mlady-noir

If she was asked, Ladybug wouldn't be able to give a specific date when her heart decided to fall for her pun loving partner, but she could point out the night she realized it.

One-shot. Sofffffttttttt. This is just a beautiful narrative of Ladybug’s fall for Chat with a sweet, sweet ending.

Someone I Can’t Fall In Love With by @yslen54

Ladybug agreed with Chat Noir when he suggested that they should finally share their identities with each other, but she’s been dreading it ever since.

One-shot. This is short and sweet. An identity reveal that explores Ladybug’s feelings for Chat Noir and then plays with the divided heart trope.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

You can’t stay away from me by plikki

When Adrien sides with his father, he expects to protect Ladybug and buy some time. He doesn't expect that his emotional state will make it so much harder to resist the girl that he loves, until he just gives in.

Multi-chapter. Rated M. Not-quite an enemies AU, but with all the beautiful angst and tension of one. There’s a fair amount of sex, so be warned but it’s SO SO GOOD. And all of the pain and angst is followed by a sweet happy ending.

baby, we don't have time to be coy by Molebear

"What are we doing?" Chat breathes, the words sending a tendril of lucidity back into Ladybug's hormone-addled brain.

It's a fair question.

The origins of this tryst are a little hazy in her mind at this point. Something about a lovesick akuma, maybe? Ladybug vaguely remembers Chat Noir getting struck by something, only seconds before it hit her too. There was a fight, or... there was something she and Chat Noir had been in the middle of doing - something important, like.... save-the-world important - before she'd dragged him underground with the sole intention of climbing him like a tree.

A scorned lover gets akumatized and gains the power to cast Lust. When it comes to distracting Paris' beloved superhero team, this power turns out to be... rather effective.

One-shot. Rated M. The UST of this one damn near killed me. It’s hot AF and I would commit homicide to read the conversation these two have after that lmaoooo

Charmed, I'm Sure by @chatonne-rousse

Friends with benefits. It's right there in the name, and it's what they are - friends. Best friends. This is just a way for two consenting adults to relieve stress after akuma fights, with the only person they'd trust with this level of intimacy. Really, what could go wrong? (The real question is, what could go right?)

Multi-chapter. Rated E. The sex is really, really hot. It’s in character and full of emotion. And there’s an amazing identity reveal followed by “I’m so happy it’s you!” sex. 

A Little Too Far by imploder

Ladybug gets handsy, and Chat Noir lacks self-control. Alternitavely: "Plagg's Worst Nightmare".

One-shot. Rated E. This one is hot and in character and just absolutely amazing steamy ladynoir content. Features my favourite: sexually assertive Ladybug. Because who doesn’t love playing with gender role stereotypes?

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 3

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated. 

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue     Chapter 1   Chapter 2  

Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus.

The mad Prince of Notaleveale.

Remus was coming here. Remus was coming to Steveange and if Romulus saw him-

Roman had to leave.

Which was easier said than done; when the streets were crowded with hoards of shoppers and revellers all pressing against him, blocking his path, stealing the air out of his lungs-

“Roman!”

He needed to go. He need to find Virgil and Patton in whatever rooms they’d managed to find, collect his belongings and-

No. That would take too long – he could replace the clothes and books, he already had his sword-

“Roman, what’re you-”

- but he needed his lute. To make any kind of living he had to be able to perform. It was the only thing he was good at and once he’d got away he’d be -

He could do it. He’d run away before. He survived alone, without anyone, he could do it again and-

“Roman! Stop!”

He stopped.

Logan. Heading towards him. But he hadn’t given a time frame and if Roman grit his teeth and pushed past the spike of pain he could start to move again in just a second-

“Wait!”

Dammit.

Roman waited. Fists clenched by his side, until Logan was next to him.

“Roman.”

His chest was tight. His brain wasn’t -wasn’t working right and Logan looked so odd, with his glasses askew and his face flushed – had he been running?

“I thought I saw Patton.” Roman blurted.

It was the first excuse that popped into his head and it was clearly not – not good enough. Logan was frowning at him, a pinched expression, studying him like an experiment and-

Roman hated him, suddenly.

Logan was an upstart swot with ideas above his station and a chip on his shoulder. He poked and prodded and lost them jobs with his terse words and his better than you attitude. He reminded Roman of the tutors who snap at him for his lack of understanding and bark orders for him to recite, repeat, remember, to be better, smarter, stronger: someone worthy of his title.

He reminded him most of all of Julius. His fathers closest advisor, who had been charged with unravelling the Princes’ curses. He was the one who had helped Romulus learn how to push against his curse. He would give him orders that were almost impossible to follow and watch with cold eyes as Romulus struggled to disobey. Together they’d categorised how much pain he could withstand, what orders could be navigated and misinterpreted and which ones he was truly helpless against.

Once, he’d bid Romulus to stand on one leg. And left him there until his muscles started to cramp and shake, waiting to see if gravity or the curse was stronger. Romulus had been in tears by the end. Had even wondered, briefly, about complaining to his parents. But is was such a silly, innocuous order compared to other experiments. What had truly upset him was how Julian had just stood there, not speaking, his eyes distant and cold and calculating as he noted down every twitch and whimper from the boy. Even when he circled him, Romulus could feel those eyes boring into the back of his neck like a-

“Princey.”

Roman blinked. Julius’ practice room disappeared, replaced with the sights and sound of the Steveange street. Logan was in front of him and his eyes were far from cold. When he spoke it was with the same gentle tone that Roman had heard him use when Virgil’s worries overwhelmed him or when Patton woke from a nightmare and didn’t know where he was.

“Did the cro- the woman. Did she say something to you?” Logan was holding his hand. Gently but firmly, he tugged at Romans tightly clenched fingers, encouraging them to unfurl. Roman stared uncomprehendingly at the deep crescent marks he’d made in his palm.

Slowly, Logan released his right hand and reached for his left, repeating the process.

Roman felt shame ripple through him.

Logan wasn’t Julius. Logan would never push him so far he broke.

Logan was his friend and Roman has made him worry with his silly behaviour and his slapdash lie. But he could fix it.

He forced a smiled. Flexed his fingers and straightened up his full height. Made a show of looking around him.

“I swear I saw him. Big man, big sword, big smile – he’s hard to mistake!”

Hesitantly, Logan glanced around too before quickly refocusing on Roman.

“Are you sure you –“

“Ah well, the mind plays trick I suppose – must be hunger getting to me, speaking of which…”

Roman reached forward and deftly snatched the bag from Logan's grasp, reaching in blindly and shoving the first pastry he found into his mouth.

“Mmmm so good!” He beamed at Logan with berry stained teeth, flakes of pastry flying through the air. “Aren’t you going to have one?”

Logan stared at him. Roman kept his smile sweet and his eyes clear. He held up the bag and wiggled it enticingly.

Hesitantly, Logan took the bag and selected a tart. Keeping his eyes on the bard the entire time, he ate his treat with much more refinement then Roman had shown. “Holding back?” Roman asked, teasing, “I’ve seen you eat jam before, there’s no point pretending to have table manners now.”

Logan just hmphed but his shoulders relaxed slightly and Roman decided to take that as a victory. “We should get going” Roman said and started walking, Logan easily falling into step beside him.

The streets were crowded enough that none of the sellers seemed to feel the need to call to Roman specifically, and so this time he was free to investigate the stalls he was actually interested in.

But instead he stayed by Logan's side

Logan was a good friend. For all he claimed to lack an understating of emotional nuances he was letting Roman have his space. He’d even distracted him earlier, when his biggest concern had been the a spike of homesickness after meeting their northern customer.

He was nothing like Julius.

Roman was going to miss him so much.

***

Roman kept up his performance of normality all the way back to the main square, where they had agreed to meet the others once their mission was done. The sky was beginning to turn dark by the time they got there, though it was easy enough to navigate from the sheer number of stalls still in operation, each one boasting its own selection of colourful lanterns.

“This is fantastic!” Roman gasped theoretically, spinning on one foot to take in the whole spectacle.

“It’s a fire hazard.” Logan muttered with a frown.

They found Virgil waiting for them by the central fountain. He had manged to find a seat on the fountains edge but was wedged between two young couples who had clearly taken the romantic festival atmosphere to heart. The healer’s shoulders were up by his ears and his cloak was wrapped so tightly around himself it looked constricting. When he saw them he sprang to his feet so quickly he almost knocked one of the young ladies into the water.

“Took you two long enough.”

Roman and Logan glanced at each other.

“Logan got lost-”

“Roman kept wandering off.”

“-We brought you baked goods!”

Virgil took one of the two remaining pastries with minimal grumbling and led them out of the square. They took the north east road, a path that curved its wary upwards into the higher levels of the city. Here the buildings were all built of a blush-pink marble that sparkled in the evening twilight. The streets were wide, with neatly arranged flowerbeds and street lights which had the steady glow of Arkazeii glow lamps rather than the flicker of oil. There were certainly no traders spread out on blankets. Logan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Was this inn you found an…economical choice?”

“It was a ‘the whole town’s rammed and this was the only place with a room left’ choice.” Virgil snarked “and don’t worry – its one room for all four of us with no breakfast included, if you were worried about getting too… bourgeoisie…or whatever."

Logan raised his hands for peace.

“I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Well …we were lucky.” Virgil told him, and then glanced over at Roman, his lip twitching.

“Apparently they give discounts to performers.”

***

The inn was certainly a cut above their normal haunts. With brightly painted walls almost obscured by well pruned climbing plants, outdoor seating, and a wrought iron gate leading to spacious stables behind the building.  Even the doors were of better quality then your typical village tavern – made of wood heavy enough to make a satisfying crash when Roman stormed in.

The room was crowded, but Patton really was hard to miss. Roman shoved his way through to the back table where the big man sat waiting. Leaving other customers cursing in his wake.

‘Hey kiddo!’ Patton greeted him with a wide smile “Did you-“

“Key.” Roman snarled.

Patron blinked and him, shock writ large on his face. “Sorry?”

“The key. To my room.  Give it.” Roman snapped. “It is mine right? Since you seem happy to pimp me out in exchange for-“

“Hey!” That would be Virgil. Roman half thought he had left both men behind in his rage after Virgil’s little announcement, but the elf at least seemed to have kept up. He’d reached the table just in time to hear the start of Roman’s rant. “What the hell is your problem Princey?”

“My problem? Oh I’m sorry, I’M not the one signing other people up to sing for their supper without permission Virgil.”

“You like singing for your – we thought you’d want to!”

“Well it would have been nice to have a choice!”

“Virgil. Roman.” That was Logan, it had taken longer for the shorter man to force his way through the crowd but he wasted no time now in inserting himself into Romans business. “whatever this is… it’s not about putting on a show.”

He turned to the other two. Virgil scowling, Patton wide eyed.

“He had an…episode in the market.”

“Excuse me?” Roman shouted.

“Roman, whatever disturbed you, you practically ran away.”

“Well perhaps I had simple grown tired of looking at your face? Had you considered that?”

He turned his back to Logan, rounding on Patton again: “Now, give me the-“

Patton already had his hand out, wrought iron key resting loosely in his palm.

“We’re on the fourth floor.” he said calmly as Roman snatched it from him. “First door once you get up the stairs.” Roman spun on his heel only to find Virgil blocking his path.

“Move.” Roman hissed.

“What is wrong with you?” Roman narrowed his eyes. Virgil looked angry. Looked one second away from telling him to sit down, shut up, stop causing a fuss. He wondered if he could get past him without using his sword.

“I’ll bring you up some food in a bit,” Roman blinked glancing back at Patton, startled. The warrior still hadn’t moved from the table - admittedly no easy task in the cramped corner- and was looking at him calmly.

“I don’t want anything” Roman muttered, sullen.

“But you might later.” Patton smiled at him. Not knowing how to respond Roman turned back to Virgil. The elf glanced between the two, chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before sighing and stepping to the side. Not fast enough to prevent Roman from knocking his shoulder with his own as he pushed past however.

It wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped.

**

At a guess, the room was normally meant for storage not guests. Two rickety looking beds had been shoved in, so close together they might as well have been one. There was one small table forced between the end of one bed and the wall, with a basin of water perched on top. Someone,  presumably Patton, had organised their bags neatly at the end of the beds. Roman’s was at the far end, closest to the window. Then Patton, then Virgil with Logan closest to the door, next to the only built in shelf where a candle had been left for the night. Roman would be able to wake with the dawn, as he liked to do, and Logan would have light for the longest to stay up and read.

Romans lute was not on the floor with his pack.  Instead he found in had been placed on the bed itself, propped up on his pillow, away from any potential harm.

Whatever righteous anger he had been able to hang on too as he stomped upstairs dropped out of him now like a stone from a cliff. Without it, the despair he had felt in the market came rushing back. He sank down right there by the door, bringing his knees up to his chest as he’d done in the forest. As he used to do in Julius’ room.

He almost wished Julius was here – at least he would tell him not to cry.

The through was so absurd he let out a weak snotty laugh and buried his head in his arms.

He needed to leave Steveange.

He didn’t want to leave them.

But they had planned to stay for a week at least, hopefully longer.

Convince them to leave early? Except he couldn’t explain why. Find them a job out of the city? How? When the coronation and accompanying celebrations were over it would be easy enough to find a traveling group in need of a little extra protection, but for now no one was leaving.

They’d been excited to come. Virgil want to try the city baths, famed for their heated pools and soothing water. Logan had been talking about the library for half the trip. Patton was just excited to explore the city itself, meet the people and try the food. He loved when they stopped in busier towns but it was a rarity.

There was no way Roman would be able to convince them to leave just because he wanted to.

Roman did what other people wanted. It was all he knew how to do.

And even if he had a convincing reason…well, they probably didn’t want him around anymore anyway.

He scrambled up, grabbed the first pillow he could reach and buried his face in it to muffle a scream of frustration which turned into more sobs.

He was so pathetic.

Since he’d left home, he’d kept his memories, kept Romulus, buried as deep as he could. But now it was like Romulus was just under his skin. Ready to jump out If he let himself slip. With all his anger and hurt and fear.

Romulus was a liability.

Romulus was a murder. Or would be. If Roman couldn’t think.

He stepped over to his pack, still hugging the pillow to him like a teddy bear, and started to review the contents. He didn’t need to take all of this with him, surely? Half of it wasn’t even his, their belongings having become more and more intertwined the longer they travelled.

The healing salve was rightfully Virgil’s, the soft shirt he wrapped himself in during cold nights was actually Patton’s, at least one of the notebooks belonged to Logan.

He opened the nearest book to check, but instead of Logan's neat lists his own sloppy scrawl stared back at him. Song lyrics and passing thoughts and, on the next page, an unfinished sketch. It was of Virgil, hand covering his mouth but eyes betraying his laughter. The other pages, he knew contained scribbles of all three of them. He flicked back and found his favourite, the page marked with a yellowed leaf he couldn’t remember picking up.

It showed all three in one sketch. Logan, sleeping and so looking years younger, head pillowed on Virgil’s thigh. Virgil was turned towards Patton, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ but making no move to actually shift scholar off him. Patton was laughing, he was the most well rendered of the three figures, you could almost see his shoulders shaking.

Roman looked at it for a moment. Then slowly replaced the book mark and closed it. This would have to come with him.

A knock at the door startled him so badly he dropped the book, which bounced under the bed.

“Kiddo? Can I come it?”

Fuck.

Patton. He had -he had been so, so unbelievably rude to Patton.

His first instinct, which was admittedly not a good one, was to jump out of the window.

Roman took a deep breath. Focusing on the mundane task of sorting items had cleared his head somewhat. He was still a little shaky but his eyes were dry. He knew what would be expected of him now - Romulus had spent most of his life apologising.

“Come in.” he croaked and stood, squaring his shoulders.

Patton entered alone, two bowls of something that smelled delicious cradled in his arms.

Roman ignored the sudden spike of hunger – the fruit tart seemed a long time ago now- and bowed from the waist. He kept his back ramrod straight and bent low enough that it quickly became uncomfortable. It was the kind of bow Romulus would only have given his father or elder brother.

“Patton, I owe you my most humble apology I-“

“Roman I am so sorry.”

“The way I spoke to you was the height of disrespect and unprin- ungentlemanly behaviour I – wait, what?”

He straightened up and looked at Patton, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“Roman, I – wait hold on.” Patton handed him one of the bowls and turned to close the door. “Do you mind if we sit?” he asked and Roman nodded, smiling despite himself. Patton was the politest person he had ever met.

Once they were both seated, Patton’s bad leg stretched out in front of him, Patton looked at him seriously.

“Roman you were right downstairs. We should never have promised you’d perform without asking you first - no it's true!”

But Roman was already shaking his head. “Patton you were fine, you know I love singing! I was the one acting like, like some sort of beast I-“

“I know you love singing but that doesn’t mean we get to pick and choose when-“

“But I wanted to perform as much as possible whilst we were here- I’d told you that!”

“-especially after travelling all week. We were, er, presumptuous.”

Roman stared at him.

“Unlike this soup, which is pre – scrumptious.”

Patton beamed at him. Roman groaned.

“Anyway I’m sorry for letting you stew-“ he held up the bowl again waggling his eyebrows “- up here for so long, but we needed to make things right with the landlord.”

Roman, who had been starting to relax under the force of two puns in a row, tensed again. “What things?”

Patton smiled. “We paid the difference – you don’t have to perform! Uhh unless you want to of course, but it’s your choice.” He nodded decisively whilst Roman gaped.

“b-but isn’t it expensive?”

Patton just shrugged, “Well, the last job paid well didn’t it?”

“Not that well!”

“Aw c’mon kiddo, what’s the point of having money if we don’t spend it? Right?”

Not knowing what to say. Roman shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth without tasting it. Guilt turning the meal to ash.

“Patton…how many days did you pay for?”

“The rest of the week! And there’s still enough to have some fun at the markets, don’t worry, we can all have a – hey!” Patton put his bowl down, shuffling closer to put one warm hand on Roman’s knee.” Roman, hey kiddo, buddy what’s wrong?”

Roman found, quite to his surprise, that he was trembling. He followed Patton's example and put the bowl carefully on the floor before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I…can’t Pat. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

“Go?” Patton looked at him with confusion clear in his big brown eyes, “But why kiddo? You don’t like the inn?”

Roman groaned shaking his head “not the inn. The city. I’m not – I can’t – if ‘m here it- “ he let out a whine of frustration, hating his curse heavy tongue.

Never tell anyone about our conversation.

“I just-“ My brother is coming and if I see him I-

“If – “ my brother is coming and he won’t be alone. There are people who know who I really am and I –

“Okay.”

Romans head snapped up.

Patton still had a frown on his face but when he looked at Roman his eyes were as serious as Roman had ever seen them. “If you can’t tell me the details it’s fine but-“ he lent forward, “Roman, are you safe here?”

Without breathing, Roman shook his head. No.

Patton nodded and squeezed his knee. “Well then of course we’re not staying.” Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and rested one large hand on the back of Romans neck. Forcing their eyes to meet. “Whatever it is – we will help you. You know that don’t you?”

Embarrassingly, Roman felt his eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll leave in the morning.” Patton told him. Patton stood up, taking Romans congealing stew and his own empty bowl and headed to the door. He paused, one hand on the door handle. “Everything’s going to be okay kiddo.” he smiled, “We love you.”

And he was gone.

For a long moment Roman sat frozen, staring at the closed door.

“Yeah.” He agreed, eventually. “Right.”

Except. They didn’t. Not really.

They loved Roman.

Roman had screamed and insulted them and instead of kicking him out of their group like they had every right to do, they had given up what little money they had just to make Roman feel better.

And Roman was a lie.

Roman was Romulus with a bad haircut. And Romulus was everything they weren’t’ – a stupid, pampered, prince with no power or pride.

Patton might be willing to upheaval their lives just on Roman's say so, But Logan and Virgil were more practically minded. They would want explanations. Might even demand them.

Never tell anyone about your curse. Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about it and put as much distance between you as you can.

Romulus was a liability.

One they shouldn’t have to deal with.

He strapped his lute to his back and secured his dagger in a hidden pocket that Virgil had taught him how to sow.  Everything else he left, including, after a moments hesitation, his sword. He had been training Logan to use it, on and off, and whilst the scholar was no solider he was improving. At the very least, it would be some source of protection until they could hire another swordhand for their travels.

The climbing plants he had noticed on the way in made getting down from the window much easier than he had originally anticipated. Dusting off his hands he skirted the building, taking care to avoid the large windows of the main hall, until he found the entrance to the the stables.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he had stolen before when he first left home. He would have to again now in order to put some distance between the city and himself.

It wasn’t his worst plan.

And it might even have worked, had they not already been waiting for him.

When Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy. Even now, under the weak light of a covered lantern and with almost fifteen years distance from the memories, he still recognised him instantly.

“Good evening, your highness.” The Marquis smile was as dazzling as he remembered, although his eyes were colder.

He had no army with him, and no weapon that Roman could see. But then, why would he need one?

“Come with me.”

Roman went.

part 4

[sevensided]

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

[queen-bunnyears]

Chapter Two - Christmas Eve

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader, Tom Holland x Reader (not at the same time)

Summary: Every year with Christmas Tom, his brothers, some friends and you rented a house in Scotland to celebrate the holidays and New Years Eve with a lot of friends. Last year’s christmas you and Harrison had something special going on, and this year he brings his new girlfriend. Chaos ensues.

Am I ignoring corona christmas lockdown in this fic? You bet your ass I am.

Am I posting three chapters in one night cus I forgot to post the first two? Yes ma’am I am. 

Wordcount: 1,6k

Warnings: consuming of alcohol, probs some swearing.

Chapter one - Chapter three

24 December 2020

Your car looked lonely in the empty parking space next to the cottage. You and Tom were early to make the house ready for everyone. Decorating the house with Tom and Harrison was tradition, but Harrison couldn't make it in time so it was just the two of you. You took boxes with lights, food and drinks from your trunk. The whole car was stuffed to the ceiling with enough food and drinks for everyone who was coming, about 10 friends. 

"Hey dreamy! Could you get those light strings? If you hang them around the porch I‘ll take the beer crates inside," Tom said, waving his hand in front of your face. You laughed and got to hanging strings of small lights around the porch and fence. When you were done the whole garden lit up. In the meantime Tom had emptied your car. You walked into the house. The christmas tree wasn't decorated yet, but the house already looked cosier than before. Tom walked in, two beers in his hands. 

"A beer while decorating?"

"Let's first pick rooms. Is that okay? I want to have a good room if I am gonna be the only single lady this week," you laughed, taking the beer from his hands, "but I won't say no to beer,"

You raced Tom up the stairs, going left and opening a door. You threw your bag on the bed and sat down on it, taking a sip of your beer. 

"Okay you won," he laughed. The room you had claimed was the prettiest of all rooms in the house. It had an ensuite bathroom, and a balcony. A large queen sized bed made the dream complete. Most other rooms were half the size of this one, so you were always fixed on claiming it as soon as you arrived. Tom and Harrison usually shared the other master room next to yours, with two single beds, so Tom wasn’t really upset you beat him. He threw his bag in the room next door and raced you down the stairs again.

Decorating time had started, and you knew you were going to be putting up lights and christmas decorations for hours. All I want for Christmas came on, you started singing along, hearing Tom bring in the ladder and scream from the top of his lungs, singing the song you had heard four times in the car already. Nothing could beat christmas.

“Sam!” you hugged Sam tightly. You and Sam were close every year at christmas. Your shared love for cooking got you spending hours in the kitchen together, making two excessive dinners for the actual christmas days, but also making lots of snacks and often cooking supper for everyone. You had met over coffee a week ago just for planning meals and groceries. 

“Y/n! So good to see you. How are you?” he asked. You chatted lightly, helping him and his girlfriend put their stuff in one of the empty rooms. By five Sam, Tuwaine and Jacob had arrived, only Harrison and Harry hadn’t yet. Everyone was in their bedroom, unpacking their bags. You walked to your car to grab your pillow you had left in the car, when you saw Harrison standing next to his car. 

“Hey Haz, “ you said, waving with your pillow in your hands. 

“Hey,” he said. Damn he looked good. His hair had grown a bit since you saw him last time, half a year ago. It looked more like last Christmas. 

“I should go back inside, see you later,” you said awkwardly, and turned around hurrying back into the cottage. 

"Oh, this room is pretty!" You looked up over the bag you were unpacking and saw a pretty woman standing next to the door.  "I see it's taken. I'm sorry,”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. There has to be an empty room left. You are Harry's girl right?”

‘No Harrison”s girlfriend actually,’ she smiled.  “Lily,” she extended her hand for you to shake, “you must be Y/n. Hazzi told me so much about you!”

“Oh, did he?” you said, shaking her hand, “I suppose only the bad parts. Please tell me everything he said during dinner,” 

“Oh I will! He spoke in detail about your talents for cooking,” you laughed. When she left you sat down on your bed, trying to oppress your laughter. How did he find her? You had never met someone who looked so subtly like you. The haircut, colour, her eye color, body shape… Yet there was something quite different about her. You remembered her calling Haz Hazzi, and you smiled. You were never gonna let him live that down. 

“Hey, so Haz brought his girlfriend,” you looked up to see Tom standing in your door, his pillow in his hands. 

“Yeah I just met her. So you came here to fix the bed situation?”

“Well Haz proposed swapping rooms, you and me sharing the double and them getting this one,”

“He can kiss my ass. No way I am giving up the private bathroom and balcony for his unprepared ass,” you muttered. Harrison wasn’t going to take your room, you weren’t gonna let that happen.  

“I thought so. So can you share your queen bed with me? I really don’t feel like sharing a room with them,” Tom said, already throwing his pillow your way.

“Sure,” you looked at your massive bed, “I think there is enough room for both of us.”

“What did you think of her?” Tom let himself fall onto the bed, sat up and patted the spot next to him. You sat down.

“Really Tom, I am fine,” 

“Okay, if you’re not you’ll tell me right?” he asked, eyes studying your face.

“Yeah Tom, I will. The only thing is,-” you hesitated, and Tom nudged you to keep talking, “Is it just me or does she look a bit like, well… Me?” Tom laughed a bit. 

“Yeah I thought so too. I guess Haz has a type,” you laughed too, giving him a hug. 

“Go get your bags, before I have taken up the entire closet,” you said. You were happy he was moving into your room. It was less lonely, and wasn’t that what Christmas was all about?

“Actually, I gotta do a last grocery run. Sam wanted a specific spice he hadn’t put on the list,” Tom said, making a funny face. 

“And you just go get it?” you rolled your eyes, “Well you do you,”

“Hey Y/n” 

“Jeez, should I put a non disturb sign on the door?” you muttered, looking up to see Harrison. ‘How are you doing Haz?” 

‘Uhm yeah,” he hesitated, “Great. How are you? How’s the bathtub?” 

“It’s lovely,” you rolled your eyes, “Tell me, you didn’t actually think I would swap rooms with you did you?” 

“No not really. I’ve known you for long enough to know you won’t give up your room because someone else was unprepared or unannounced,” he laughed. You smiled, glad it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. 

“Well I just value my bathtime,” flashes of him fingering you in the bathtub last year flew through your mind, but you tried to ignore it. He hadn’t changed much since last year, but that was probably just the outside. 

“Have you met Lily?” 

“Yeah I have. She seems really sweet Haz,” you said honestly. “I am happy for you both.” 

“Thanks. I was afraid it was gonna be awkward between us you know,” he said. 

“Yeah me too. But it’ll be fine. See you later,” you hesitated, but then added teasingly, “Hazzi,”

“God isn’t that embarrassing. A terrible nickname, but she really likes it,” he laughed. 

You didn’t exactly know how many glasses you had of Harry’s “Christmas eve special”, but you knew you were drunk. It was one A.M., and you and Tom had been singing “Lonely this Christmas” from the top of your lungs, dancing around together, nearly knocking over the Christmas tree. Most were already to bed, but Harrison, Harry, Tom and you were still up. You broke yourself free from under Tom’s arm, heading towards the bathroom. You felt a hand on your arm and tried to shake it off. 

“Y/n,” were you mistaken or did Haz look completely sober? You apparently said that out loud, because he laughed. “Yeah I haven’t drank anything love,” You stepped back. 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore Haz,” you said, stumbling towards the hallway. “Go to Lily,”

“I just wanted to say that you look good,” you weren’t sure if you heard him right. Your head was slightly spinning, and somewhere in your mind you registered Harry asking if you wanted one last drink.

“What?” Your eyes half closed, you tried to focus on what Harrison said. 

“You look good Y/n. Happy, I mean,” 

“Okay. I am,” he kept his hand on your arm and you really needed him to let you go. You needed to pee. You wanted to have fun, not have Harrison make you sad. “I gotta go.” you said, shaking his hand off. 

When you finally sat down on the toilet you held your head in your hands. Being drunk around Harrison appeared to be a bad idea. When you made your way back to the living room he was gone. Only Tom and Harry were there, together on the couch watching The Grinch. Tom looked up when you came in and gestured beside him on the couch. You dropped your body down and took another sip of your drink. Stupid Harrison. 

Chapter three

[wntersfire]

GET TO KNOW ME TAG GAME

Before I start I would just like to say (tw alcohol for now and question 19) sorry for any spelling mistakes or if I ramble a little. To cut a long fuckin story short I mis read the measurements of my shot glasses and so instead of having two cocktails I’ve had the equivalent of four in the space of an hour and a half. Being british, im not gonna let a good drink go to waste either so im onto my third/sixth now.

Tagged by @clints-lucky-arrow (an actual goddess among us mortals)

1. Why did you choose your URL?

So this reason is two-fold. One, I didn’t watch star wars growing up because I was dumb and didn’t understand the politics (it wasn’t until my boyfriend sat me down and explained it literally in January of this year that I actually got it) but I loved Sci-fi and space so the next best thing was Treasure Planet (2003 film, Available on didney+) My favourite scene is the ending when Long John Silver (spoilers) is about leave before he can be arrested and Jim confronts him. Seeing how much his character has grown, Silver says to Jim, “Look at you, glowing like a silver fire. You’re something special, Jim. You’re gonna rattle the stars, you are.” It literally makes me tear up every single time I watch it and its one of my favourite lines of all time. Second, this was actually quoted in one of my favourite book series ‘Throne of glass’ by Sarah J Maas. I adore the character of Celeana and again one of my favourite quotes from TOG is when Queen Elena says to Celeana“ You could rattle the stars. You could do anything, if only you dared.” Every time I read that line I literally get chills and I actually have plans to get this tattooed on me lmao

2. Any side blogs?

Yes my fanfic blog @second-stars-totheright (I like puns and I used to love peter pan)

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

I joined when I was 13 for the fanfiction and lurked for a very long time, just reblogging and liking things until I deleted it when I was 17. Re downloaded the app and got my account back back around February of this year (when I was 19, now 20) and since then I’ve found it much friendlier and actually interacted with people this time around, and actually started posting my work on here!

4. Do you have a queueue tag?

No. This is my general postings blog so I just kind of stick anything funny or worth keeping here, but I probably should make one!

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

As I said to read fanfiction (anyone wondering it was 5 seconds of summer fanfiction. Anyone who judges me in the comments its fair game 🥺) but I re-downloaded it this year because I noticed with my work on Wattpad, while I had some do really well (one has gotten 130k+ views) its very difficult to actually interact with readers and get feedback. I’ve only accumulated that high of a number after 5 years of it being on there, and so tumblr is just so much more personal!

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I did it this morning as I was getting tagged in this lmao. I wanted a cartoon girl who looked like me but because I had a specific colouring (ie my hair is black with a blonde streak at the front & my eyes have both blue and green segments because I have heterochromia) I couldn’t find any that looked like me so I recoloured a cartoon girl I found on pinterest.

7. Why did you choose you header?

The white clouds fit the stars theme and it looks pretty with the purple. ✨💜

8. Whats your post with the most notes?

“That girl is a problem | Javier Pena x Agent!Reader part 1” with 105 notes on my fanfic blog.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I am still a little tumblr idiot when it comes to this so if someone could tell me how to find out I'll edit this

10. How many followers do you have?

72 on here, 107 on my fanfic blog (AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU ACROSS BOTH OF THEM MWAH, MWAH KISSES FOR YOU ALL 💜💜💜)

11. How many people do you follow?

165 (it was 700+ but the other day I unfollowed a bunch of accounts that haven’t been active since I followed them when I was 13. There were LOTS)

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

I mean all you have to do is look at the Nomad memes I make (UNAPOLOGETICALLY I might add 😤) for @clints-lucky-arrow to know I absolutely have. That series has a hold over me im telling you. I black out when I start reading and I awake with a bunch of meme editing apps open and my feelings tugged at from her amazing writing.

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

If I’m with my boyfriend which is like two days a week, rarely, but now I’ve finished uni, I’m on here all the god damn time. I feel so comfy and safe interacting with you all, not to mention some of you guys are funny as hell.

14. Did you have a fight with a blog once?

Not really on here, I haven’t received any hate luckily but I prefer not to spoil how comfy I am here with arguing.

15. How do you feel about ‘you need to re-blog this’ posts?

I’m a little confused by this I dunno whether I’ve just never come across any like this or if Stars is being a bimbo on the tl again. However, I only reblog things I’d like to keep for future reference or if something deserves to be shared to everyone else like a fic rec or a piece of art. (As Mack said, I’ve re-blogged so many in the past promising me money or luck and I am still broke as shit so what does that tell you).

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes!! I love reading everyone elses and getting to know my mutals better!

17. Do you like ask games?

Again yesss because it means I get to send love to my mutuals and get to know them better! I tend to not participate though just read their responses because I sometimes feel like I’m bugging people clogging their inboxes even though I know that’s the point idk I’m a hell of an over thinker sometimes 🥳

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

It’s been said before but @clints-lucky-arrow (wow you rlly owning this post bby girl) but I just remember lurking on Nomad early February and liking and reblogging her chapters so I could keep them to re-read cause that’s how much I instantly loved it and when she followed me I realised who she was and lowkey had a starstruck moment bcus id been ciaght up in her work for weeks and too nervous to make contact. Also @arduadastra, I saw her work all over the pedro tags for so long and now I’ve gotten to know her she is the sweetest girl!! We usually fan over Javier Pena gifs together, she’s solely responsible for ‘That girl is a problem’ bcus of her gif sending at 1am giving me Javi thots and now it’s my most successful one on my blog. And most recently @pedrosgirlx followed me this morning and her work is genuinely some of the best I've seen on here, as I said this morning it is the Sistine Chapel ceiling of Mando art it is actually jaw dropping!! I cant believe all these creators are rlly giving us this content for free and yet being so talented AND the nicest people I’ve ever met!!

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No, although I hold a lot of them dearly as friends. 15/10 would treat you lovelies to a drink of your choice if we ever met (any of you from the uk who drink I’d get you a pitcher from Whetherspoons)

20. Absolutely no pressure tags:

anyone who wants to join! a lot of people I would have tagged have already posted theirs so go for it if you like the look of it!

[fondnesses]

roscoe’s notebook post

A while back I said I was going to write a post about the way I use notebooks for writing projects. This is the first of several posts about Writing Process I’ve been tossing around in my drafts for a little while as a result of conversations with friends, so bear with me.

I. Love. Notebooks. I genuinely would have to deeply overhaul my whole Process of writing anything on the longer side if I were to go paperless; I find physical paper pretty invaluable when I’m outlining, brainstorming, and researching, and I still probably write ¼-⅓ of all my actual content on paper first. (That proportion used to be a lot higher, but I’ve gotten better at being productive on a computer in recent years, which is great.) I’m a very visual person, so notebooks really help me visualize my ideas, story structure, etc. It’s very helpful to be able to use arrows and diagrams and physically strike things through, and the tactility is really soothing to me. If I show people my notebooks or talk about them, I often get a response like “this is so organized”, which is sort of true, but I have to stress that it’s “organization for a disorganized mind”; I can’t misplace ideas or notes if it all goes into the same physical object, vs. electronic notes, which are much more, like “Did I say that in a voice memo? PM it to myself on Discord? Leave it in a desktop sticky note? Write it directly into the Google Doc? Who knows! It’s lost to time!”. It’s very much an ADHD management strategy.

It helps that I’m a very neophyte stationery hobbyist and appreciate any excuse I have to use my pens, but I also will go off at any opportunity about how helpful I find them for writing projects, which is why I decided to just make a post about it. Right now I mostly use them for (fan and original) fiction projects, but I used a notebook for a very similar purpose when I was working on my undergrad thesis, and I have a slightly different but equally necessary-to-me approach to notebooks I use at work.

My typical structure for a notebook that’s devoted to one project only looks like this:

I always leave the first couple pages blank so I can go back and retroactively index bujo-style. I don’t always actually do the index, because sometimes I get too lazy, but I like having those blank pages there to give me the option. I also usually put epigraphs/inspo quotes on the first page.

After that, there’s often (but not always, I’ll talk about it) a couple pages at the start where I’m frantically jotting down loose brainstorming ideas before they've coagulated into a story structure. Just, like, vomiting into the void.

Stemming out of that, I usually write out about like 5-10 pages of outline-style notes in chronological order, laying out all the main story beats and charting out the story trajectory. This will inevitably get revised and rewritten many times, but I find the process of writing these wide-angle synopses really useful for dislodging ideas, making connections re: thematic threads, etc. from my brain.

I’ll devote a couple pages after that to specific things like "sex scene brainstorming", "random scene ideas/minor details that don't have a clear place in the outline right now but I'll turn to for inspo later" [this is what I refer to as “bits” in one of the later photos], "page where I just outline the Motifs And Themes", "research notes", "to-do list", "stuff to check on a second pass", "things to put in the a/n and AO3 tags", etc.--the specifics vary with the story.

Then, I skip ahead to approx. halfway through the notebook and cordon off the rest of the pages to be “free writing” space, AKA writing of actual content rather than planning, with the expectation there will be no internal organization and I’ll transcribe to laptop as I go. Writing on paper feels less binding than typing something on a computer; it’s like a little secret kept with myself, and it doesn’t need to go anywhere or be seen by anyone if I decide I don’t like it. Setting aside pages in the back half of the notebook means that, as more things come up re: planning, I can go back and add those in the rest of the pages that were intentionally left blank. This is how I avoid (for the most part) having the whole thing be a jumbled mess where there’s no separation between the notes and the actual story writing; I learned this the hard way via the first notebook I’ll show you in a second. I’ve recently gotten really into using Muji sticky note tabs to label any pages/sections of particular import that don't want to have to refer back to in the index and would rather just flip to instantly.

I do use notebooks that aren’t specific to any one project, but those are much less organized and less worth sharing.

Before I look at more recent stuff, here are some selections from my notebook for the project that got me into writing longfic, my Golden Kamuy canon divergence AU (with apologies for the bad photos, my phone’s camera is trash). I worked on this from Sept 2018-July 2019. It was a learning experience in a lot of ways, and notebook utilization was one of those. I’ve always used notebooks for keeping track of writing projects, as I said earlier, but before this it was largely without much organization or structure; just total chaos. Having a physical notebook became really important for this project because it was a sprawling multichapter story with rotating POVs and a lot of historical research. I also learned a lot about what not to do with a notebook, personally, or at least things that don’t work so well (for me). This was a college ruled spiral-bound Decomposition Book, for the record.

By the time I bought a notebook for it I already had a (very basic) plot outline in mind, so I wasn’t doing that very initial ground-zero brainstorming in here; I was copying out of my phone’s notes app, basically, and then going from there. 

This is one of the first pages in this notebook; I wanted to visualize the relationship web between the four central characters in the story in terms of how they feel about one another. The two colours correspond to the POV characters (Sugimoto in orange, Ogata in pink), and I used this colour-coding throughout the notebook with highlighters, etc. to keep track of information that was more relevant to one character than the other. Tsurumi and Yuusaku aren’t POV characters, but they’re prominent in the story and their presence impacts the central relationship between Sugimoto and Ogata, and it was helpful to me to map out the emotional ecosystem, as it were.

(There are coffee stains all over this, because I wrote the vast majority of the story in coffee shops because I didn’t want to be around my roommates, lol. This is part of why I never do fiction writing in notebooks that are too nice, I get neurotic about needing to keep them tidy. I can’t use ones that are too shit though, either, so it’s a bit of a narrow window. I’ll talk more about brands and paper quality etc. later.)

As you can see, this is the first page of many I set aside specifically for jotting down different pieces of historical information relevant to my story. It’s about fictional characters who are members of an army division that existed in real life, and both the canon and my fic involve a high level of attention to detail with regards to which divisions were present for which battles, etc., as well as general historical details specific to the Russo-Japanese War setting--what did people eat in the trenches? What did they do to fill time? How did they get through the winter? What did third party observers have to say about the conditions? What were the specs of their weaponry (particularly important because one of the POV characters is a sniper and gun nut)? I did a lot of reading (and watching of antique gun collector Youtube videos... the things I do for love, eh), and it came in handy so many times, because it turns out it’s much easier to write trench warfare slice of life if you have factual details to pull from when you don’t know what to do with a scene! Imagine that!

This is the first of three “grid outlines” I made; this is a way I sometimes like to visualize a story outline all on one page, with the columns representing chapters and the squares within the columns representing sections/scenes within the chapters. As you can see, early on I was hoping to get this done in five or even FOUR chapters (whatmakesyouhaha.mp3), with POV switches happening internally within the chapters. This proved to be unwieldy for many reasons, so I revised the outline:

Here I’d come to terms with the fact this story was going to have a lot more chapters than I’d planned, and I rearranged things so that it would happen in ten, with each chapter belonging to only one POV character. This also needed revising later, and in the end the story looked a bit more like this (though it did in fact end up being twelve chapters, but only because Chapter Ten was like, 12k, and needed to be split in two chunks):

I must have remembered to bring my fineliners to the coffee shop this time, lol, because as you can see it’s properly colour-coded this time. This outline was made when I was already four posted chapters into the fic, which hopefully gives you a sense of the way in which I am sort of a planner and a pantser; I can’t get into a longer project without an outline, but the outline inevitably changes many times throughout writing and I often end up with a finished product that looks pretty different from what I was intending. My creative M.O. as always is Do The Maximum! Amount! Of! Work! Possible!

This is what a “free writing” page looks like, for me. In this notebook I didn’t set aside any specific spaces for free writing so it’s strewn throughout the notebook in a really disorganized way and I was constantly flipping through looking for bits I’d written and forgotten to transcribe, and I decided to be more organized in future as a result of that. If something’s crossed through, that means I transcribed it. As you can see, they’re often small sections, sometimes just a coupled decontextualized sentences. About 3/4 of what I write in a notebook makes it into the story, I’d say; some of it never goes anywhere, and that’s OK. I have less of an issue killing my darlings if they never make it off the paper page.

A very brief, top-down chapter outline, where the goal was not to get too bogged down in details and just to visualize the beats and pin down what they’re trying to accomplish. Chapters for this fic typically ran about 6k, and five or six scenes per chapter was pretty common, so the average scene length was about 1-1.25k words/scene. IDK why I called it storyboarding when I didn’t make drawings. (Margin numbers are to keep track of word count, since I was using a daily word count tracker while writing this.)

This page was, as titled, for keeping track of the various balls in the air when I was about 2/3-3/4 of the way through the story and really feeling the pressure with regards to tying up the various loose ends. This was... a struggle. I hadn’t ever written anything longish (this fic ended up just under 70k) that had an action plot before, let alone a canon divergence scenario where I had to engage with and explain away various canon plot elements so I could maintain the audience’s suspension of disbelief.

Now, I mentioned earlier that I learned various “things not to do” with my notebooks while working on that project. One of those lessons I learned is to be more realistic when assessing how big a project is likely to get, not least because I RAN OUT OF PAGES around the chapter 9-10 mark. In my defense though, that’s because I’d never written anything even half this long! But I know better now, and try not to be in denial. Finishing the notebook early was a way bigger problem than I’d anticipated, and was part of the reason the last few chapters took several grueling months to finish. The issue was that I needed to be able to use a notebook to maintain my workflow--attempting to do it only on a computer was dismal--but it seemed silly to start a notebook of a similar size to the one I’d finished (80pg, approximately B5 dimensions) when there was no way it would need that much space, especially since the reference pages, like the historical notes, didn’t need to be transcribed over. I was also pretty broke at the time and didn’t want to spend money unnecessarily, lol. I tried to get by using a Moleskine Cahier for a month or so because I had one lying around, but it was horrid; it was too small to be used comfortably, it wasn’t spiral-bound so it wouldn’t lay flat, the ghosting is terrible and I hate the way Moleskine paper feels, etc. Eventually I caved and went to Muji and bought a 30ish page A5 with closer to lay-flat binding, and I finished the story in there. I would take a comparative pic for you of the relative notebook sizes and include some of the scene staging diagrams, etc. I put in there, but I can’t find it :(

So I learned that specs really do matter, and it’s okay to be picky if the pickiness is going to make the difference between actually using a notebook or not. Things that are important to me in my notebooks:

Ruling (gotta have ruling, I can suffer through grid but blank or dot is a no-go)

Size (I can’t use anything smaller than at least a medium-large notebook, I find it claustrophobic and get miserly about page space)

Binding (twin ring is my preference because it looks and feels better than a classic spiral but has the same comfort of use with regards to bending the pages back to suit workspace size and laying flat with ease)

Paper quality and colour (I don’t like anything too slippery/smooth or with too much visible ghosting, and I strongly prefer an off-white paper to bleached paper--part of why I don’t use Decomposition Books anymore, the paper is scratchy and it’s too damn bleached!)

Pagecount relative to size of project

Portability (in non-COVID times; anything bigger than a B5 wouldn’t fit in the satchel I used to bring to work at my old job), etc.

But everyone’s taste is different in this respect, and the only way to figure out what works for you is through trial and error, I’m afraid. I also suspect I’m more neurotic and particular about the sensory experience of using a notebook than most people are, but I yam what I yam.

Now to talk about the notebooks for my current projects, where I’ve refined my approach somewhat. I’ve included less photos for these because they’re ongoing WIPs I don’t want to spoil completely, but I’ve tried to include some outline-type stuff to give you an idea.

My big bang fic is in the very ugly twin ring notebook on the right; I got it at a dollar store by my house because I needed something to work in and didn’t want to wait for an online order, but it’s been very serviceable for my needs. The paper isn’t even bad. The bigger notebook (B5) is my Sangcheng fic.

I wanted something with a lot of pages for this, because I knew it was going to be a long story, and for some reason the fact it’s smaller than my usual preference doesn’t bug me (I think it’s an A5?); it just fits this story, somehow. I’m not sure exactly how many sheets are in here but I’d guess about 150.

Because this notebook has upwards of 100 sheets, I made a lot of use of sticky-note tabs to label high-priority pages. The colour coding of these doesn’t mean anything, it was just whichever ones I had at hand at any given moment. These are those tabs from Muji I mentioned, I’m really obsessed with them--the shape makes them so much less obtrusive and more practical than conventional squares/rectangles OR flag shapes, IME.

My big bang story is nonlinear, so, similarly to what I did with colour coding for the two POVs for my GK fic, this story has two main colours corresponding to whether a given section takes place in the “before” or the “after” portions of the timeline, with blue as “after”, yellow as “before”. This is what the most current version of the outline looks like in there:

If you squint, you can see the alphanumeric notes in the top right of each section entry; I gave them each a code like “A3″ or “B5″ corresponding to their position in the story sequence (so, it goes A1, B1, A2, B2, etc., through to B9 and then the epilogue). [Unintentional that this schema overlaps with notebook size labeling and so is kind of confusing in the context of this post.] At first I was just keeping track of the sections via the highlighted titles, but it got confusing because I’d write down “Wedding” or “Yiling” in my notes and then refer to the notes later like “but there are multiple marriages?? and multiple scenes in Yiling??”. Stuff gets struck through with a straight line if it’s been written in a more-or-less complete form and crossed out with a squiggly line if it’s been cut from the outline or made redundant.

As I said earlier, I started out all the initial brainstorming for my Sangcheng fic in its notebook, instead of brainstorming it in someone’s DMs/my notes app/a voice memo/etc. and then transcribing it into the notebook in a somewhat more organized fashion, which is how my stories usually start out. Because of this, the first five-ish pages are basically just stream of consciousness rambling where I was trying to jot down every disconnected thought I had about the story concept. I don’t have photos for that because it’s too spoilerific for later developments in the fic, but I can show you some of the stages the outlines went through, once I was able to corral those initial notes into a story structure:

All the chapters in this fic have their own highlighter colour, so when I started trying to make sense of my initial brainstorm notes I just went through and highlighted stuff in the colour of the chapter it would make the most sense for, and then transcribed things more-or-less in chronological order into the relevant chapter outline. I later ended up rewriting all the chapter outlines AGAIN to refine them and divide them internally by the individual scenes, which makes them a lot more legible and less wall-of-text-y. They look like this now, with about four sheets per chapter:

Because this fic is on the longer side, I have some pages that are just for keeping track of other story elements, like this, where I refer back to whatever the fuck the “themes” are supposed to be whenever I forget what this fic is about:

It’s all about the visionboarding... Anyway, that’s most of what I have to offer, since most of these two notebooks is Forbidden Content.

With regards to brands/supplies, I really like this Kokuyo Campus Wide notebook that I’m writing Sangcheng in, it’s pretty perfect for me. I also like the B5 Muji twin rings, but those only come in 30 sheets, so I wouldn’t use it for anything above a ~20k project. The B5 Maruman Spiral Note 6.5mm ruled/80 sheet is another good one, though I wish it was twin ring instead of spiral. As you can tell, I like Japanese stationery brands because it’s easier to find decent paper quality and minimalist design without shelling out $$ than it is with American/European brands, at least IME. I like Rollbahns too. But honestly, I can usually find pretty serviceable random notebooks that aren’t brand-name from Asian dollar stores; it’s really not something where you need to shell out tons of money.

[randomoranges]

so this is the 3rd lyric from the song, but i’m trying to keep up with the fic-thing-whatever and ill get to the other parts later. the momentum is going and im trying to match it and such

lamao this reminds me of 2010 and when i wrote a chapter of a fic to match all of canadas medals. good times. that was - hard and a rush

also i made this into snippets of moments in the same day. to - make it shorter. even though it turned into an 8 page tiny monster lamao. 

ANYWAYS

DO YOU LIKE SPORTS. DO YOU LIKE FEELS. DO YOU LIKE NEUROTIC SPORTS SUPERSTITIONS

well, you will be served

Rouge comme le sang qui nous coule à travers

 July 5th 2021

 When Edward woke up that morning, he expected to find Étienne curled up by his side and to splurge and indulge in some good morning cuddles. Instead, the spot besides him was empty and cold. He sighed to himself and after waiting for a bit, in case his boyfriend made a reappearance, he shuffled his way to the kitchen, where he might find him.

 Truth to form, Étienne was there, already more or less dressed, drinking what couldn’t possibly be his first cup of coffee in the morning out of one of many Habs cups Edward had spotted in the last twenty or so hours.

 “Morning!” Étienne sounded a tad too cheerful, but Edward ignored it and made his way to his boyfriend where he could properly snuggle and feel that blessed beard against his skin for a moment. Thankfully, Étienne was never one to deny any sort of physical touch and wrapped his arms around him, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 There was a reason as to why Edward had chosen this particular time to visit. For starters, he absolutely did not want to miss out on the beard and with the playoffs wrapping up shortly, he knew that his time was counted. On top of that, Edward knew how the people of Montréal took to the Habs losing this far into the playoff run and the down Étienne would feel if that happened.

 It wasn’t that Étienne’s mood solely depended and fluctuated because of the hockey, but with so many people being emotionally vested in the team, their winning or losing would ultimately have an impact on Étienne. Now if they won, well, Edward wanted to live vicariously through it. Plus, there was something quite wonderful in an Étienne who was that jubilant and ecstatic. However, if the Habs lost, Edward wanted to be there for emotional support and also to make sure that the slump wouldn’t eventually tie in with one of Étienne’s own spectacular, unrelated to hockey, depressive episodes.

 “Plans for the day?” He asked, perfectly comfortable in the crook of Étienne’s neck.

 “Well, funny you should ask,” Étienne started and Edward had visions of intense biking up the mountain in the oppressive humidity or something as ridiculously insane, “I – have an errand to run, but I don’t want to impose on you.” For some reason, Étienne sounded a little nervous about this errand and Edward didn’t understand why.

 “So? Go run your errand. I can come with you if you need help.” So long as it didn’t involve standing in the scorching heat, he was fine.

 “No, no it’s fine! I appreciate you wanting to help – but, I don’t want to bother you, really.”

 Edward stepped back and took a good look at his boyfriend’s face. Something was up.

 It took him a moment, but then it clicked.

 It had to be one of his ridiculous pre-game rituals he had completely forgotten about. He almost groaned. Étienne was anal about his rituals to bring the Habs good luck. Downright neurotic, really and Edward had been victim to many séances of Étienne doing the most ridiculous of things that he swore would help his team win. (To be honest, Edward did wonder, deep down, if maybe Étienne wasn’t on to something, considering the fact that the Habs had won 24 cups in their history, but he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud.)

 “Do I want to know what crazy task you’re going to do?” He asked.

 Étienne gave him another nervous smile and tugged on his beard, “It’s not that crazy, really...” He murmured and Edward feared for the worst.

 “What is it this time? Putting your left sock on before you’re right one? Talking to your posters? Building a puck pyramid? Prepare a specific meal?”

 “Please, that was last night and this morning. I need to go to the Oratory.”

 Edward’s face blanched. Of course Étienne would go to the Oratory. He had forgotten all about it.

 “You’re kidding.”

 Étienne scoffed, “I am not kidding, Édouard. This is very serious. I need to make my pilgrimage to the Oratory, climb the steps on my knees and then light up a candle for the Habs’ victory tonight.”

 Edward remained silent. He knew better than to argue or say anything about it. Étienne took his rituals very seriously.

 “My issue is that you flew all the way to spend time with me and I don’t want you to think I’m just abandoning you.”

 “Don’t worry about me,” Edward said with a chuckle, as he finally decided to grab a mug that didn’t have a Habs banner, a players number or Youppi’s face on it, and poured himself some coffee, “You go do whatever it is you need to do and I’ll acquaint myself with your glorious pool.”

 “Are you sure?” Étienne twirled the hem of his shirt around his thumb and followed after Edward when he headed for the table.

 “More than sure. I don’t want to be held responsible for your team losing if you don’t complete your set of rituals. Plus, I’ll be fine here and I can spend more time with Mercury.”

 “Sure?” Étienne asked again.

 “Yes. I promise.” It wasn’t as if Étienne would be out for the entire day anyways.

 “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” Étienne was careful not to topple the coffee out of his hands, but still wrapped Edward in a tight hug.

 --

 In all honesty, Edward was a little overwhelmed to be sitting in the Bell Centre. There were so many people and so many lights that it was quite dizzying. After over a year of leading a quiet life at home, this felt like too much too soon, but at the same time, the energy was electrifying.

 “Can you believe that the last time I was here for a final, you were also here?” Étienne said excitedly as they settled into their seats. It was crazy to think that Étienne looked tame in comparison to some other fans in the arena, even if he was wearing one of his many Habs jerseys, his Habs pants, his Habs shoes and most likely other articles of clothing he couldn’t see.

 “Really?” Edward thought about it for a moment, “Shit, you’re right – so does that make me a lucky charm?” He joked, “Do you need to rub my head for good luck?” He laughed, but then when he saw the serious look on his boyfriend’s face he stopped. Étienne looked at him and seemed to be debating this for a moment. He had definitely shot himself in the foot with that idea.

 “Better off not taking any chances,” Étienne said as he rubbed Edward’s head for good measure, much to Edward’s chagrin.

 “Are you happy now?” He asked, when Étienne was done.

 “Maybe. I would’ve been happier if you would have let me dress you for the occasion. You’ve got to be the only person here who’s not wearing something Habs on them.” He pouted.

 Étienne had offered to lend him anything from a tank top to a signed jersey, with everything in between, but Edward had refused. For as much as he enjoyed being at the arena, there were still team loyalties he had to respect and that would be going too far.

 “No I’m not, look, there’s a few people wearing Tampa jerseys.” He pointed out.

 Étienne didn’t seem to think he was very funny, “That’s not the point, Édouard!”

 “Fine, but look, I wore a white shirt – this is as far as I’ll go.” It was a neutral colour and – well, both of their teams had white somewhere in their jerseys.

 “Tampa is playing in white.”

 There was no winning this one.

 “My jeans are blue and my blood is red?” He tried and he only got a death glare in response.

 --

 The one thing Edward had always loved about watching a game with Étienne, regardless of whether it was a season or playoff game, was that Étienne knew a lot about hockey – more precisely the Habs and he loved to share his knowledge – especially when he was stressed. (Not that Étienne ever admitted to being stressed about a game.) It was endearing the way he would blabber on and all Edward had to do was listen.

 “This has been such a crazy playoff run,” He started, “Like – no one expected them to come this far and it’s been such a boost to the morale of the city. For as much as hockey has its issues, it also brings people together, and I wish there was more of that. Walking around the city these past few weeks has been something else. You meet people and hear their stories – about how they got into the game – where they’re coming from, who they’re here with. It’s beautiful. Kids who are living their first real playoff run. Older people who remember 93, 86 and the runs in the 60s and 70s. It’s been surreal! I’m just – I love these people – my people and the way they’ve just run with this as well. Hoisting orange cones as Cups and living the magic.”

 “I know it might end tonight, but whatever happens – it’s been such a great run. I mean, obviously, it would be really great not to get swept. That would just – no. Do you know that the last time the Habs were swept in the final was in 1952? I don’t think the people would be able to handle that. You don’t make it to the final to get swept. Tampa can go and win at home, but to be swept?! No thanks.”

 Edward knew all too well about being swept. At least the Habs had – avenged the Oilers. He supposed.

 “And, also, on that note, do you know that the Habs only ever lost the cup once at home?”

 “Did they now?” Out of their twenty-four that was quite the feat, really.

 “Yes! And you’ll never believe what team did it!”

 For some reason, Edward felt like he did know, yet the answer escaped him at the moment.

 “The friggin Flames! I had to sit and watch Calvin’s stupid face light up like a goddamned Christmas tree when they won. I never thought I was going to live that one down!”

 Now he remembered.

 To be honest, he’d tried to forget.

 It had been the most awkward of times, really.

 For starters, Étienne had invited him to come watch the game with him. He’d agreed. If it meant spending more time with Étienne, he would’ve gone anywhere. Had gone to many places.

 He’d just – forgotten one minor detail.

 Calvin.

 This was the second time, really, that the Habs and the Flames had met for the final. The first time had been awkward as well. In its own way. It wasn’t even with the fact that he was – involved with Étienne and Calvin was his friend and could not know about his involvement with Étienne.

 It had – more to do with the fact that – the Flames had – impeded Gretzky and the Oilers from getting their third cup. He’d been – resentful to say the least.

 Yet, Étienne had hesitated going out to Calgary to see them team, but then Calvin had asked him to convince Étienne to go. As a power move? To show off? He’d never bothered finding out. But, Edward had spun the idea to Étienne, telling him that wouldn’t it be nice to see the Habs extinguish the insufferable Flames at home?

 Étienne had agreed.

 They’d gone.

 The Habs had won.

 And Calvin – hadn’t even really cared.

 His victory had been in beating the Oilers.

 The bastard.

 1989, however...

 Shortly after Étienne had invited him, Calvin had reached out, saying that wouldn’t it be nice to go out and watch the game in Montreal. He had seats with the execs in their special section and they could make a whole trip out of it! Heck, the Flames might even win the cup! And – wouldn’t that be something! The Cup back in Alberta!

 It had been very hard for Edward to tell Calvin that he already had Other Plans. Yet, without missing a beat, Calvin had told him that he should totally tell Étienne to come watch with them and that Edward didn’t need to worry about lodging, as they could share the hotel suite together.

 He forgot exactly what he’d ended up telling both Calvin and Étienne, but somehow or other, the three of them had found themselves sitting in Calvin’s section, while Étienne had grumbled all along about having better seats than whatever this garbage was.

 It only went from bad to worse as the Flames won and Calvin all but gloated, while Étienne threatened to set the city on fire. It wasn’t that Étienne had accused him of throwing him off, but Étienne had reminded him, more than once, that clearly, because he hadn’t been able to sit at his usual seat, the Habs had lost.

 (Again, Étienne was anal about his superstitions and rituals.)

 “Well, here’s hoping they don’t lose at home and get swept. Good vibes only,” Edward told his boyfriend before Étienne could get in a tizzy.

 “Yes, you’re right. Anyways, it’s sort of thanks to the before last game against the Oilers we’re here anyways. Habs needed one point to assure their spot and that tie brought them to the playoffs, even if they lost in overtime. It made sure the Flames couldn’t sneak in, so, thanks? I guess?”

 Edward chuckled remembering that particular video call.

 “See, I told you, good luck charm.”

 For good measure, Étienne rubbed his head again.

 --

 It was hard not to get wrapped up in the game, regardless of who was playing, even if it wasn’t his team. This was a playoff final game and both teams were trying their best to win. Even though the first ten minutes or so made it seem as though Tampa was going to finish this off without mercy, the Habs, somehow, managed to take the lead twice. Étienne kept on saying that some of the ghosts had clearly finally arrived and that some miracle had been cast on them by the three legends watching from the box.

 Regardless of what it was that had brought the score to 2-2 with few minutes left, Étienne was clutching his arm like a lifeline and Edward was convinced there would be marks there when his boyfriend would let go.

 “Please, please, please, please, PLEASE,” He chanted as the puck went one way and then the other. He clutched Edward’s arm even tighter whenever Tampa got close to scoring and whenever the Habs missed a shot.

 It finally seemed as though the Cinderella run would come to the end with that last double penalty, which continued in over-time, yet somehow or other, the Habs managed to kill it and then, by another miracle, or maybe a clever game of pass-the-puck, managed to score in over-time.

 Considering the fact that there were only three-thousand-five-hundred people in the Bell Centre, the resulting collective scream made it feel as though the place was packed to the brims.

 Edward got swept up in the momentum of it all and found himself standing with all the other Habs fanatics, yelling and screaming.

 When he turned to look at Étienne, his boyfriend looked jubilant and ecstatic. It was such a good look on him and it made Edward’s insides warm at the sight. Étienne deserved to feel this happy all the time, really. If there were a few tears at the corner of Étienne’s eyes, it only made him look lovelier and Edward did his best to school his face in the most platonic of smiles.

 “They live!” Étienne yelled over the continued shouting, “They did it!” He said, even giddier as he kept on jumping up and down, waving his playoff flag with all the other people in the Bell Centre.

 It was magical, really – living a playoff run like this one. He was glad he could be part of it – somehow, even if it was only for the last stretch of it.

 --

 “You know, no matter what happens next, I’m at peace. They fought and they’ve kept fighting from day one and – of course I want them to win. God, I want it so bad, but I’m just – really glad they brought it to game 5. And – I like to believe that – that they’ll be back. For game six. I’m just – I’m happy.” Étienne said, voice thick with emotions as they finally managed to step out of the Bell Centre. Some of the earlier euphoria and adrenaline had tempered down and Étienne was a little calmer by now.

 “If any team can do it at this point, it’s certainly yours.”

 Étienne beamed at him as they walked down the street, away from the crowds still chanting and yelling and celebrating, off the beaten path for a longer way home, if only for some fresh air and a quieter moment to re-center themselves.

 “Yeah – you’re right,” He trailed off with a small smile. Étienne made to grab his hand, but knowing that there were still so many people out, he let their fingers brush against each other instead. “Everyone’s so happy – so proud of the city... I hope the feeling lasts.”

 Edward made a quick grab for his hand and gave it a squeeze, before letting go. He wanted to tell him that the hockey didn’t matter. That this city was more than just a glorious hockey history. That he was proud of him. Of what he’d done. Everything he’d worked for outside of hockey. For himself. For the city as well. And that he had more worth than he realised. To him. To others. But – that was a talk for later. Right now, it was time to enjoy the moment – bask in it. Celebrate the victory.

 “Let’s go home, yeah? I want to celebrate with you.”

 Edward nodded and kept step with him as they made their way back to Étienne’s place, where once safely behind closed doors, they could properly celebrate together.

 FIN

[bookworm-2692]

About a week ago I finally finished bookbinding @airdeari‘s beautiful Zero Escape fic The First Nonary Game. It took about a month (between all the waiting for glue to dry and also several days each week when I was unable to work on it), and was so much fun! It’s so satisfying to just... hold this book in my hands. 

Details about how I made it, along with additional photos (and commentary) below the cut.

So I came across this post on Tumblr, which immediately inspired me to try bookbinding myself. I spent a few days watching so many tutorials from the youtube channel linked in the post (I’ll link the specific tutorials I used in this post), and googling how to actually manage to print pages so they form proper signatures, because the inbuilt booklet creator in Word doesn’t exist in my Word apparently so that’s fun.

Anyway, once I started, I asked @airdeari for permission to print and bind his fic, and he immediately said yes, so that was good. Then I spent a good couple of days copying the entire fic into a Word document, and fiddling with formatting so it would look like an actual book (section breaks, page numbers, headers with the fic title on the left page and chapter title on the right page (this took ages to work and I kept on stuffing it up), and making sure things just... looked nice. I added in the art After The War that @keycrash created specifically for the fic (third pic above), and an “afterword” containing credit and links and the author’s notes from AO3 (because even if I’m the only one who will ever see it, it still feels weird to not add the credit stuff in so it’s there).

I then saved the document as a PDF, and used CheapImposter to correctly shuffle (impose, hence “imposter”) the pages so when folded into signatures, each page would be in the correct order. This program was the first free one I could find, and was great because you could specify the number of sheets you want per signature, rather than stuck with a default. I chose to have 11 signatures of 6 sheets of paper, since that was the amount that would have the least blank pages and the end of the book. The file was 261 pages, so with two pages per side, and two sides per sheet, you divide the number of pages by 4 to get 66 sheets of paper

I then printed. There was only one (1) paper jam in the process, which was great. Unfortunately, I realised after I printed that one of the headers for one chapter was wrong (I hadn’t properly disconnected the two chapters), but fortunately that only involved reprinting 4 sheets of paper.

I used the following tutorials to make the books: DIY Textblock, a general “how to make a textblock” tutorial; DIY Kettle Stitch, a specific look at the stitching for a textblock, since the first tutorial doesn’t focus on this; DIY Book Cloth, since I chose to use fabric for my cover; and DIY Hardcover Book, how to put all those pieces together.

So then I started folding all the signatures. I was watching so much Brooklyn Nine-Nine during both the folding and stitching sections, since it was repetitive actions I didn’t need to concentrate on that lasted hours.

It was at this point that I sliced each signature one by one to make the end smoother and less pointy. In future I recommend not doing it at this point - wait until the very end. Instead, move straight onto stitching. 

I don’t have any photos of the stitching portion, since my phone died the morning I started the stitching, and I wasn’t able to replace it until after all the stitching was done. In fact, originally all the photos from before the stitching were lost too. It was only about two days ago that magically the My Photo Stream thing kicked in and brought back all the photos - if it had worked two weeks earlier I would’ve had more. As it is, all photos from September to January are gone forever, unfortunately. But that’s another discussion entirely.

The above is the first book photo on my new phone, so as you can see, all the stitching was completed, the spine was glued, and the purple paper attached. I couldn’t buy two A4 sheets, so instead I had to buy one A3 sheet and cut it in half. Which was difficult cycling home from the city with an A3 sheet that didn’t fit in my bag on account of being A3 and not A4, but oh well.

I don’t have a book press, so I used a pile of DND books and my brother’s weights instead, as shown below.

I then had to re-slice the book after this point bc my first go wasn’t even, on account of slicing each signature separately. Next time definitely I’ll just do it at the end like this. I then also sanded it to make it smoother. It’s still not perfect, but it’s something that’ll take practice and patience so.

Next I made the book cloth, which involves using appliqué sheets to combine cotton fabric and tissue paper. But first I want to talk about the fabric I chose for the cover, because I’m quite proud of it. I spent ages wandering around the shop, trying to find something that fit the feel of the book. Spoilers for the content of the fic if you haven’t read it yet, and also for the source material (999/Zero Escape). I was thinking about some sort of blue swirl thing, because of the Gigantic sinking. I found that, but hesitated because it didn’t fully fit, and my favourite colour is blue so I always pick blue. I also considered flames/fire because of the incinerator thing, but couldn’t find any. I can’t remember if I just couldn’t find any four leaf clover fabric, or if I’ve just since thought about that as a cover. But instead I chose the butterflies below. They fit in several subtle ways that I’m proud of. The colours of blue and pink(/red) matching the receiver and transmitter coding all throughout 999, as well as the moments of purple as well (I don’t think I need to get into that, I’m sure it was analysed to hell and back when the game first came out). The butterflies also point towards the butterfly effect, and in turn the different timelines present in the series. So together it just works. /spoilers over

It’s also just a pretty fabric.

Now the making of the book cloth. I had to make it twice, because I was too impatient the first time, so the iron was too hot and it steamed, which wrinkled and warped the tissue paper, so the fabric was all wrinkly too. The second time took ages and was a worse quality appliqué sheet, but worked well enough anyway.

(My parents: did you have the iron out? what were you ironing? you never iron)

And then I cut the book board to size, using the measurements from the tutorial video. I’ll repeat them here: front and back cover: width = width of textblock minus 3mm, and height = height of textblock plus 6mm, and spine width = width of textblock spine, spine height = same height as covers

I then glued the board onto the book cloth, and put it under the book press. The dnd books are not large enough to cover the whole thing, and also I really wanted the board to stay flat and not curl, so I grabbed way more dnd books and way more of my brother’s weights. I also accidentally started putting the glue on the wrong side of the board (bc one side is smooth and the other is rough), hence the colour difference as well.

The corners were cut and folded and glued over...

And then the textblock was glued in, and put in my book press for a whole weekend. I added a sheet of paper to absorb the glue so the pages wouldn’t become wrinkly, but instead the sheet I added was fine and every other page in the book is wrinkly. So I dunno what happened there. After the weekend I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back for another week to be sure.

And then the complete book is shown at the top of the post!

As I was starting I was talking a lot about it, like about the process I had to go through, or how I was going to obtain what I needed, etc. Mum asked if she could read the story. I froze, like a deer in the headlights... because this is a fanfic. She saw my fear and immediately backed down, explaining she only wanted to read it because if the story was that important to me that I was going to literally turn it into a book, she wanted to read it to yknow like know me better or something? Which makes sense. And when I got over my initial reaction, and remembered that indeed it was technically my dad who introduced me to fanfic, and thought about it more, I said okay. Because since the fic is technically a prequel to the first game, and most of the characters are technically OC’s (like, from the first game we know that all eighteen children must exist, but most of them don’t have names or anything so they are effectively OC’s), then knowledge of source material isn’t strictly necessary. This fic can probably be enjoyed on its own. I mean I’ll probably have to explain the concept of morphogenetic fields, and the last four chapters might not make sense? But I’m okay for my mum to read it. So when she’s less busy at work I’m going to download the epub onto her phone for her - we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, this fic is a masterpiece, extremely well written and I highly recommend it. As said, most of the characters are effectively OC’s, and yet they are all given such rich histories and personalities. All of them have access to the morphogenetic field, so I’m just so glad that @airdeari​ explores nine unique relationships with the field - nine unique sibling dynamics, and esper powers and abilities. It’s just so good.

[damnhardwork]

First Line Challenge

Thank you @philosopherking1887 and @ectogeo-rebubbles for the tag!

If anyone would like to have a go, consider yourselves tagged! 

So, I cheated a bit and just selected works at random, rather than doing the latest 20 (mostly because i thought it might be interesting to see whether or not things have massively changed over the last *cough* too many *cough* years).

Most of my fics start with description. Very few with dialogue - which is unsurprising, as I dread writing dialogue. It is something I find incredibly difficult. 

There are a few oddities in there - clearly I went through a fairytale phase. lol. But for the most part, seems like my opening formula is ‘X just happened/is happening’ occasionally followed by either me trying to be funny, or the character having feelings about the something. 

Perhaps it’s time to shake things up a bit, eh? 

1) For the first time in four years, Mr. Edmund Fairweather of 32 Vicarage Road, Oxfordshire, completes The Times cryptic crossword.  (BtVS, 2017)

2) It began in the garden. An odd place for such things to start, granted. Gardens do not tend to inspire thoughts of a lascivious nature in all but the most committed of horticulturalists. It takes a truly determined mind to look at a rose bush with anything more than cautious admiration, it has to be said. (DS9, 2020)

3) He was running away. Beating a tactical retreat, as his father might have said. This was a library, for God’s sake. Naked men in the history section were well above his paygrade. (BtVS, 2018)

4) Crowley fished his lock picks out of his pocket and considered the chest before him. (Good Omens, 2019)

5) As Dr Julian Bashir, station CMO and all round magnet for Trouble, adjusted his trousers for the second time in as many minutes, all he could think about was how truly unfair life was. (DS9, 2019)

6) “Why, Professor,” Ace said, grinning, “is that a screwdriver in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

The Doctor batted her hand away.

“A banana, actually,” he replied. (Classic Who, 2018)

7) If the months that followed her death had been strange, then the ones that followed her resurrection were more so. (BtVS, 2018)

8) “There must be some mistake,” said Julian Bashir as he scanned the PADD before him. (DS9, 2019)

9) Nice is a four letter word. Crowley doesn’t like four letter words. They come with connotations. Expectations. (Good Omens, 2019) 

10) Once upon a time, so very long ago, the world held no shadows. A riot of colour and life, it spun gently on its axis in a galaxy of stars. And upon this world the sun never set and the night never came. (BtVS, 2016)

11) Something wasn’t quite right. Hermione could feel it – like an itch between her shoulder blades; one she couldn’t quite scratch. (HP, 2008)

12) They were sitting in the garden drinking tea, the city stretching out below them, and the soft, rolling dunes of the desert shimmering in the distance. (DS9 EU, 2020)

13) The call had come in around 1300 hours. A simple request for assistance, Odo uncharacteristically vague, the only specification made that it be Dr Bashir in attendance. (DS9, 2021)

14) As Garak lay upon the bed, hands tied firmly to the headboard, his second thought was that this had been a very bad idea indeed. (DS9, 2020)

15) Once upon a time there was a woman who was everywhere and everywhen. (HP, 2012)

16) Out in the City of Cardassia, in the streets that ran between a patchwork of houses and rubble, two friends walked side by side. (DS9, 2019)

17)  I remember how my time at Oxford ended. (BtVS, 2019)

18) There is a well-known saying: a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. A less well-known, but altogether more accurate saying, is that a lot of knowledge is a very dangerous thing indeed. (HP/Discworld, 2016)

19) After Cleveland, after the prevention of one apocalypse too many, Faith found herself on his doorstep, suitcase in hand and an excuse on her lips. (BtVS, 2018)

20) This was it. He'd officially gone peculiar. (DS9, 2020)

[thefandomsinhalor]

Title: Let Your Heart Be Light

Author: thefandomsinhalor

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Alternate Universe - Modern Settings | Friends to Lovers | Growing Up | Christmas Fic | Kid Fic | Teenagers | Adults | Fluff & Angst | Pining | Sam and Dean are closer in age | Background Sabriel |

Summary:

On Christmas Eve, five-year-old Dean meets a boy of the same age, named Castiel. With every passing year, their friendship blossoms, and soon, Dean knows that he is drawn to his friend more deeply he’d like to admit. 

The question is: will he do something about it before it’s too late?

Read on AO3 

(I will update throughout the month)

Read Chapter One below :)

Chapter One: Thursday, December 24th, 1998

“Dean, honey, what do we say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Ho-ho-ho!”

The man pretending to be Santa Claus amicably bopped Dean’s head before walking away to the next couple of children standing by, awaiting their present.

Yes, Dean Winchester, despite being five-year-old, wasn’t fooled by this imposter. He knew this man couldn’t possibly be the real one.

It was quite simple, really. It was late afternoon, he hadn’t climbed down the chimney, nor had he any cookie or milk laid out for him.

And then, there was the gift in question.

Dean didn’t want to seem ungrateful, as he knew his mother wouldn’t like it, but he had been very specific in his letter to Santa.

And there was no way this flat, though large, box contained the very intricate race track set he had begged for.

But that was fine. As he had concluded, this man wasn’t Santa. He was just pretending. Like the one at the mall. Or the one near the video store.

No. The real Santa was yet to come.

“Don’t you want to know what you got?” his father asked him.

Glancing around him, Dean realized that nearly every child had already torn open the wrappings and were enjoying their Christmas surprises. Fire trucks. Coloring books. Dolls and soldier toys. Even Sammy, sitting on his mother’s lap, was hugging a cute teddy bear.  

Feeling the stare of both his parents on him, Dean began tearing off the metallic blue and silver wrapping, which had snowflakes of various shapes on it, and was left staring at his present, puzzled once he had opened the box.

He had no idea what he was looking at. It was a thin layer of material, of a bright yellow color, with adorable bees depicted on it, stretched across a wooden frame, and a string attached to it.

“Oooh, that’s nice,” said Mary gleefully.

Noticing his confused state, John asked him, “Do you know what this is, Dean?”

Frowning, he shook his head at his father.

“It’s a kite,” he said kindly. “You make it fly.”

Dean lowered his eyes to look at his present again.

“Like in Mary Poppins,” said Mary. “You remember?”

He nodded.

“Next time we go to the park,” said John, “we’ll try it. Or even when we visit Uncle Bobby. He certainly has the open fields around his house for it.”

A grown-up, one of many present swarming around in the house, then called out to Dean’s parents. It was a nice lady named Tamara who smiled at Dean and wished him Merry Christmas.

“Isaac is somewhere in the parlor talking with Rufus and Bill Harvelle. They were asking for you, John,” she said to Dean’s father.

“Bill?” said Mary. “Did he and Ellen bring little Joanna with them?”

“That’s what he said. I was just on my way to find them.”

Keeping Sam in her arms, Mary stood up from her seat, scanning the room for her friend.

“I’ll go check on Isaac and the others, and then I’ll catch up with you to see Ellen and the baby,” said John, smiling at his wife’s eagerness to see the newborn. He then turned to his son. “Do you want to say hello with me, Dean? Or would you prefer going with Mom, Sammy and Tamara?”

Dean shrugged. Talking to grown-ups wasn’t exactly what he considered a thrilling activity. Of course, there were exceptions.

Due to his lack of enthusiasm, however, his mother then suggested, “How about you stay here with the other children?”

Another questionable prospect, thought Dean.

Most of the kids in the living room, laughing and playing with their new toys, seemed much older than he was.

And more importantly, he didn’t really know any of them.

The celebration, which Dean and his family were taking part in that day, had been hosted by Mr. Donatello Redfield, one of Dean’s neighbors.

Except for when John had raked his lawn in the fall, a task dutifully assisted by Dean—though he had mainly played in the pile of dead leaves while his father had done most of the work—Dean hadn’t had much interaction with Mr. Redfield.

He remembered that he had been very generous at Halloween when he and Sam had stopped by his house. Mr. Redfield had given them enormous delicious candy bars. And Dean also recalled him letting him taste his spicy chicken wings on the Fourth of July, in the previous summer.

But nothing much beyond that, and especially during Christmastime. For reasons unknown to Dean, Mr. Redfield didn’t make a fuss of the holidays. He typically travelled somewhere exotic and returned home in the new year with a sunburn on his nose.

This year, however, had been different. For health-related reasons, or so Dean had heard, Mr. Redfield had been recommended to pause his travels, and given his holiday habits, many of his concerned neighbors feared he would feel lonely and had wanted to keep him company.

So, due to numerous dotting neighbors, friends and colleagues showing up at his doorstep throughout the months of November and December, Mr. Redfield had decided to host a Christmas family-friendly party on Christmas Eve to thank everyone.

His first ever.

The crowd was merry. Laughter and cheers from children and adults alike filled the entire house.

But despite the jolly vibe in the air and the numerous children present, Dean hadn’t been too keen on exploring on his own.

When he told his parents why that was, his mother said, “That’s a good thing, sweetie. It means you can make a new friend. Okay?”

Assessing his mild hesitation, after he had glanced apprehensively at the other children, she pointed out that he had nothing to worry about and that if he was shy, he could start by joining another of their neighbors. For example, Mrs. Missouri, a kind and generous woman, was comfortably sitting in a rocking chair, telling a story to a few children gathering around her, and listening with attention and with wide eyes, near the fireplace.

Suddenly determined to prove that he was not shy, Dean shook his head and said, “I’ll go play with the others, first.”

Even if he really wanted to say hello to Missouri as well.

“Alright, buddy. Do you want me to hold this for you while you do that?” said his father, pointing at his kite, but Dean expressed that he wanted to keep it with him.

And without further ado, young Dean turned on his heels and joined the group of children, searching for a new friend.

He was briefly tempted to approach a joyous girl with a blond ponytail and a sheriff’s hat that was too big for her. She was laughing with her friend who had a very strange haircut. His hair was very short in the front, but really long in the back. They were playing Connect Four, which Dean enjoyed playing.

He changed his mind, however, when a bunch of older children swooped by, running around, taking a lot of space.

Feeling somewhat intimidated by them, Dean briefly glimpsed back to the spot where his parents and his brother had been a moment ago.

But they were no longer present, as he knew they wouldn’t be.

He swallowed hard and decided to go near the large window across the room to avoid the bigger kids. He kneeled next to the Christmas tree, taking in the overwhelming scent of pine and cinnamon, and observed the room from this new angle, holding on tightly to his kite.

Everyone else seemed to know each other and blissfully occupied themselves with their toys.

Which made sense, thought Dean, as their toys could be enjoyed in their current environment.

Unlike Dean’s.

“Hello.”

Dean looked up.

A boy his age and height, with bright blue eyes and thick, wavy dark hair, was suddenly standing right in front of him. He was wearing a green knitted sweater with an angel on it and his socks were different colors.

“Hi.”

“Do you want one?” the boy asked politely.

He was holding a square box against him with one hand.

And then, Dean’s eyes fell on what the boy was presenting him with his other hand.

Star-shaped sugar cookies.

“For me?”

The boy nodded.

After Dean accepted his generous offer, the boy sat next to him and they both ate their treats next to each other.

“What did you get?” he asked Dean, nodding at what he was holding.

Pursing his lips, Dean showed him his kite. Expecting the boy to be as disappointed as he was, he was then stunned to see the boy’s eyes widen.

“You’re so lucky,” he told him.

“You think so?”

“I like bees,” he said, after nodding. “And kites are fun.”

“I’ve never had one before.” Eyeing the box that the boy had rested next to him, he said, “What’s yours?”

And the boy slid himself closer to Dean to show him.

Right next to him.

They delicately opened the box together.

And to Dean’s delight, the boy retrieved a giant rainbow slinky.

“Whoa! That’s so cool. Can we play with it?”

“You like it?”

His eyes glued to it in adoration, Dean nodded.

“Do you want it?”

Young Dean blinked. “What?”

“We can exchange, if you want.”

“Really?”

And moments later, both boys were content with their new presents. Dean certainly believed that he had gotten the better end of that deal. At that thought, a mild pit grew in his stomach, not unlike when he sometimes lied to his mother about brushing his teeth.

Feeling uneasy that he had perhaps taken advantage of his new friend’s generosity, he asked him, “Are you sure you don’t want the slinky? It’s really fun and the colours are nice. It was yours first. I—if you changed your mind, it’s okay.”

But the adorable boy in question did not mind. In fact, he informed Dean that the main reason why he was so keen on having the kite was because his brother had one of his own. So now, he would be able to accompany him to the park without having to constantly ask him to share.

Reassured—not to mention, very glad to know he could keep his rainbow slinky—Dean said, “I have a brother too. He’s younger than me.”

“I have more than one brother. I have three. They’re all older than me.” The boy hadn’t said it with as much enthusiasm as Dean had. His brief morose expression disappeared though, and a warm grin spread on his face when his eyes met Dean’s.

His bright blue eyes staring back at him.

“What’s your name? I’m—” started saying the other boy, but he was cut off by an impeccably dressed teenager, who had stopped right in front of them.

“Castiel, there you are. Come, now. We have to go.”

Dean’s new friend shook his head vehemently at the teen. “No. I want—I just made a friend. Can I stay a little longer? Please?”

“Aunt Naomi said we have to leave now or we’ll be late.”

“Michael, please? I’ll—”

“She asked me to find you. I found you, now come on.”

“Michael,” hissed a woman. “It’s time to go—Gabe, stop! You’re making me dizzy.”

A child with sandy hair, not much older than Dean and Castiel, was running relentlessly around her, chortling and unspent.

“Castiel, say goodbye.” And his brother presented him his hand, signalling to him that he had to leave immediately.

He turned facing Dean and said softly, “Goodbye.” And added, waving at him, “Thank you for the kite. I love it.”

“Bye.” And Dean thanked him as well.

He watched his new friend walk away towards his family members, a large group, mostly consisting of older kids and adults, and disappeared through the crowd.

Feeling lonely once more, Dean was suddenly sad when he realized that he never had the chance to tell him his name.

He comforted himself, however, that he had caught the boy’s name and was eager to tell his parents of his new friend and the very first Christmas present he had ever received from a friend.

And that was the day Dean had met his best friend Castiel Novak. His best friend of many years to come. And one day, perhaps, something more.

Read on AO3

(where I will update throughout the rest of the month)