#I wrote this at like 1am and finished it at like 5 am

[yourtypicalfangirl23]

Youth.

 and watching the three of them felt like, the cheap, corner-store shop picture frames expanded into real life. From the stale walls of his bedroom to the reds and oranges of an early autumn sunset where the screams of cicadas echoed through the gold-painted, tar highways. It was desolate, the countryside was dying, and no one except their shadows and them were present. 

In his eyes.

Two boys, one girl. Three of them. The end of summer, he recalled, always brought upon a gut-wrenching dread.

It was always two boys, one girl. Three of them. end of summer.

Always the three of them, when they were too young to be heroes, still ridding the innocence of their adolescence, learning life, finding themselves. Tugging at their uniforms, one button always abandoned, shirt untucked in some parts. Far more comfortable in band shirts and ripped jeans, a zip-up hoodie always unzipped, sweats, always the sweats. Instead of the tightly fitted armor of jujitsu high, too young to be in soldiers' uniforms.

Uncleaned chalkboards, wooden floors, and large paneled windows where the curtain slowly drifted with the summer winds. Three chairs, three desks, and space. Barracks disguised as classrooms. It was always, almost normal. Always, almost kids in high school- until they see the phantom red on their hands, on each other. Until they're afraid of death, until they question if their friends will come back.

High school kids shouldn't worry about carrying their friends' corpses back, shouldn't be worrying about the infinite space that will be left from a desk taken away, two would be an awful number.

Sometimes though, when the skies were especially clear, the sun blinding enough that the classrooms felt like saunas and they had no choice but to take their lessons outside, it truly did feel like high school. On the grass, below a mighty tree, ancient with thick roots, winding with mossy branches, and rings of bark carrying the passage of time, they would laugh, too warm to sit still, too warm to listen.

The tree still stands there, to this day, though mightier in size. It holds now, his dearest memories and a neverending ache, as his eyes linger on the the three of them.

“Your eyes remind me of the sky,” he said. 

Flat on his back, his head to the side, his eyes showed galaxies as they bore through his own. Two hands behind his head, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if he had forgotten the blood that was smeared on his hands just yesterday.

“They aren’t though, Suguru” he had said back.

Suguru. Suguru was the boy who had constellations in the creases of his irises, eyelashes saturated with stars, and long, long hair, silky strands that looked like ink from the poems in kanji, he had read as a child. 

Suguru looked back at him. He was beautiful, so very beautiful. Suguru had called his eyes the heavens, the seven seas, the world, and at some point his home. 

His eyes were a source of power and hierarchy. His eyes brought fear, he had been born with these eyes as a man, never a boy, never a child. A soldier through-and-through, a born weapon for jujitsu society, the name of the Gojo clan. His eyes were for humanity, as a hero, as a savior, and as a god. His eyes brought him a military routine, always a house, never a home. He had no parents, he belonged to no one but humanity and jujitsu society. His eyes were treacherous storms and lashes of waves, raging tsunamis. 

But this boy with the soft voice and planetary systems as eyes had called him his. With Suguru, he would be Satarou, a boy in high school, with eyes that looked like a clear summer’s sky. They would be Suguru and Satarou doing whatever high schoolers would do.

A scoff from Satarous’ side broke the trance and Suguru looked back. 

Shoko huffs out a soft chuckle, an unsmoked cigarette hanging from her smirking lips. Her eyes had deep bags under them but they still managed to sparkle as she rolled her eyes at them. One hand under her splayed brown hair, the other fiddling in her pockets certainly reaching for a lighter. After a few moments of rustling and-

“Honestly it's sexist, we can’t wear normal fucking pants with normal fucking pockets, fucking skirts”

She lit her cigarette with one hand, her other, now removed from under her head had reached out to Suguru to offer him one, and as always he would hesitate, and then after a second, the roll would easily slip away from her slim fingers to his. Shoko had tried with Satarou but he was never as easy as Suguru, he could still remember the days when Suguru would snatch the roll away from her lips and offer her a strawberry Chup Chups instead. She had scowled at him but never complained. When days were easy, no caskets and no disappearing friends. Before, their eyes looked darker, before the eyebags, before. Before he took cigarettes so easily. 

It would be the three of them then, on the ground, splayed out on the grass until the sky turned golden, the occasional breeze, drifting leaves down on them, the smell of tobacco thick in the air, and laughter. Fits of laughter, uncontrollable and untameable, wheezing and breathless. Until all three of them would be coughing, Shoko clutching her stomach and Suguru on his side, laughter echoing through the desolate land that was Jujitsu high, and Satarou in the middle, smiling the biggest he’s ever smiled. Brimming happiness at a place that was so riddled with blood and tragedy. 

They would be messy and noisy as teenagers would be, tangled up together, talking shit about teachers, cursing and complaining. Talking about unresolved crushes as their cheeks bloomed with a rosy blush, kicking their feet and twirling their hair or whatever people in love do. Gossiping about the parties they have and haven't been to, talking about that new cafe that opened downtown or that new clothing shop, the one that's biased about their sizes, they don’t even sell the right color nail polish, black, because they had a personal style under these uniforms they were trapped in. 

When they had nothing else to talk about (finally)  and the laughter had died down to comforting silences and content sighs with heads on shoulders, fingers intertwined, legs overlapping each others’, eyes slowly beginning to close after a lazy summer's day.

“Up, you dickheads” 

Shoko would drag them up, a lazy smile on her face and two outstretched hands, the sky had passed its golden hour and a light purple welcomed dusk. Their cigarettes were finished now, on the grass, giving out the last of its smoke, the lights from the windows were just starting to flicker on, and the three of them would escape, leaving the formidable fortresses of jujitsu high. Leaving the echoes of bloodshed and death into a normal life, just for a second, where they would pretend to have calculus and The Great Gatsby as the biggest worries in life.  

The street lamps lit the sidewalk, a few moths dancing along its light, where one lamp, as they proceeded along the path, would never function, it never had. An occasional rumble from an old car or a noisy neighborhood kid with a bicycle would break the silence. Shoko and Satarou would skip, hands held together like preschoolers while Suguru trudged along them, complaining with a smile on his lips. They would take the first right and walk by the few abandoned appliance stores, local grocery stores, and the house with the odd chimney and even weirder garden gnomes. They would pass by the small store that rented all sorts of manga, which would be surely closed by now but still had a myriad of fairy lights at the entrance that looked quite like fireflies this late and into a nook, the only store open this late, at the outskirts of Tokyo, up on the mountains, a lone corner store which sold everything from cigarettes to the most outrageous sodas. Where an old man, as fragile as china, looking as if he would crumble at a mere touch sat on a dainty, rickety, wooden chair. Every single time. He would smile expectedly, never speaking a word, as Shoko brought the cheapest cans of beer to the counter and would wave goodbye every time they left, without fail.

Who knew that such an old face could muster up that bright of a smile?

The three of them would locate the too-small bench at the back of the store, where there would be a mess of weeds and moss, an unkept backyard. They would manage to squeeze together, Shoko in the middle, and put their feet on the circular, metallic, rather rusty, rather large table in front of them. It was too warm for that but they didn’t care as they passed along the cans of beer, awfully bitter and terrible to the taste but good enough for their high school taste buds, until they were all completed and only the metallic cans were left rustling on the ground. 

If they were drunk enough Shoko would slowly take off her hair clips and toss them on the metallic table which would land with a loud clang, normally waking Satarou from his drunken daze. Then she would lay her head on either of their shoulders and for a good old while, the three of them would lie there until Suguru would slowly coax the both of them from their slumber into the long way back. 

And the times when even alcohol couldn’t lay their minds to rest, squeezed upon the bench, Suguru would bring out his collection of nail polish or Shoko would pull out a small speaker. They would paint their nails and listen to whatever indie music Shoko was into and they would stall because they were still too sober, even after the ten or so cans of beer passed along them.

Either way, they would always end up in Satarou’s room, on his bed, or on the floor, all three of them close together, sticky with sweat and alcohol, still in their uniforms, now horribly disheveled, hair sticking out from all places, soft limbs, looking like a bunch of troubled teenagers, like they should have been.  

That would be their summer, their youth. 

At present, the area around them has grown quite a lot, changed just like they had. More appliance stores, more grocery stores, though the house had gone now, replaced with a small cozy apartment building, the lamps all functioned, no manga store, that too had been replaced with a modern tourist office. The one thing that did remain though was that lone corner shop, the old man he heard, had died a few years back. 

But the store remained where it stood, nothing had changed about it. 

Youth, he recalled .

Youth.

[souglias]

People Say To Take Things One Step At A Time For A Reason [GINTOKI]

OR: Gintoki makes a dire mistake about you in his drunken state

Gintoki x f!reader

c/w: gintoki has been drinking, alcohol mention, use of pet names (but for humour effect), all fluff no angst :>

word count: 1.2k

note: something I wrote for fun and sheesh finally a fluffy gintoki fic rather than my usual bittersweet fics. For my followers who saw my post about a gintoki multi-chapter fic a while ago, just in case you thought this is it, this is not it. Inspired by this (I couldn't find the image from the original artist's twitter 0-(-( )

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

-

The phone rings at your bookstore at 1am as you're finishing up some administrative logs. It must be a prank for a call that’s way beyond opening hours. Even if it isn't, you decide you don't want to deal with queries at this time. The phone quietens after 5 rings.

Not long later, the phone starts ringing again. It sounds like urgent business for someone to be calling a bookstore twice in the middle of the night.

"Hello, this is Kabukicho books. How can I help you?"

An all-too-familiar voice comes out from the receiver. His words are slurred and you press the receiver to your ears as you strain to listen to him.

"Heyy, are you free for... dinner?"

"Gintoki. It is long past dinner."

"Dinner is any time after lunch and before breakfast."

"I want to sleep and you should too."

You hear whining from the other end of the phone. "Can't you have at least a parfait with me? We haven't met in a while!"

Is this a secret, roundabout cry for help from him? Coming from the very lips of Gintoki, those words feel like stark yellow paint on a white wall.

Regardless, you are a little concerned he's going to die in a ditch somewhere instead of making it home. Even if he's gotten this drunk multiple times before he called you today. 

He prompts you again with a "hello" before you hear some crashing on the other side.

You suppose once is fine. It is a solid reason to see the person you harbour feelings for. On top of that, he's right that the two of you have not seen each other for a while. And just maybe, it is a sign that he chose to call you out of everyone else.

(Okay but maybe you're just being delusional. Who else he could even call? Kagura would simply smash the ringing phone at this hour. If he calls up the Shimura household, Otae would tell him to die rather than let her younger brother pick him up.)

You sigh, "Where are you now?"

He hums a little before telling you the bar he visited. You pack up your work (that is still 1% unfinished) and head out into the cold winter night to find him. Gintoki should thank his lucky stars that you like him, otherwise, you would have left him to freeze. Almost no one gets to interrupt your work.

You easily find the telephone booth near the bar he patronised. As you approach the telephone booth, you see a scene you find somewhat humorous. He's bent over backwards in the cramped space, face pressed against the clear glass of the booth and feet propped against the other side. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open with drool.

Taking out your phone, you snap a photo of him before you knock on the door. He's so ridiculously unsightly, but it endears you.

One eye of his cracks open and his lips upturn. You swing the door open and give him an unamused look. That doesn't shake his half-lidded eyes and a wide smile.

"Yo, you pretty thing."

Your heart skips a beat. Gintoki is possessed, or he's lost it. All Gintoki has been calling you is an ugly hag and a shit-faced bitch. To call you pretty is... out of this world.

"You're way too fucking drunk. Get out of there by yourself, I'm not helping you."

As he twists and turns to get himself out of that difficult position, he whines again. "Help me, woman! You can do this little thing for me right?”

Seeing him struggle, you decide to milk this scene. “Well, who am I for you to assume this is ‘little’?”

“My girlfriend.”

You're sure your face is visibly red at this point, and your heart is beating in your throat. You manage to stammer out, "What?"

"You're my girlfriend duh!" He exclaims without an ounce of doubt in his statement.

He's lost it. He's lost it.

"Since when? Huh? Huh? Why was I not informed about this?"

"Huh? Why are you-"

Gintoki freezes and he narrows his eyes at you. It dawns on him that you are not his girlfriend. 

To be precise, he has not asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Suddenly, he's able to stand upright in the phone booth. He remains rooted there, his body turned away from you. What has he done? His heart beats at a thousand per hour and he thinks he might collapse.

"Did you mistake me for a girlfriend or something? Anyway, you should have told us you have one."

He could pretend to black out now. Or maybe he should try to be smooth.

"Well, no... I don't. I just forgot I wasn't in the future, that's all!"

Gintoki timidly looks over his shoulder to check your reaction. From the puzzled look on your face, he fucked it. He doesn't even remember the exact pick-up line if one like this actually existed. Something about a girlfriend but in the future. 

"What are you talking about..."

He averts his gaze again. The obvious way to clarify everything is to be honest with you. It's that easy. It's that easy. But he can't say it. Even in his half-intoxicated state, he feels like he'll keel over saying those three or five words. He did plan to say it some time, but not in this manner.

You watch his broad back slowly shrink inwards, and you hear him mumble something you don't catch. A gut feeling fills your chest. You breathe, slowly regaining your composure. Meanwhile, he decides he should pretend to black out.

"Look, if you wanted me to be your girlfriend, you should have asked me first. I would have said yes. Don't skip steps, please. I'd like some order."

Already amid Operation Pretend-To-Collapse, Gintoki falls backwards and lands on the ground. But his eyes are wide open instead of shut as he lies on the ground, searching for a sign of a joke from you. You lower into a crouch, continuing to stare into his bewildered eyes. 

“So, what will it be, darling?” 

The weight you put on what you just called him makes him shudder. His face is too distractingly hot compared to his body for him to come up with any kind of retort. He mumbles again with his eyes looking elsewhere. 

“Huh? I can’t hear you, you have to speak up.” 

Words come out in a murmur. All you hear is the word “girlfriend” but you egg him more. “What?? Is this all you got, Sakata Gintoki??”

His hand reaches for your face and he pulls you towards him, pressing your lips against his. You can smell a sweet alcohol scent on him. When you pull away, you find a fiery, intense gaze in his eyes.

“You’re my girlfriend now, stupid.”

Just like that, he renders you speechless. But a smile tugs on the corner of your lips, and you stifle a laugh.

Gintoki picks himself up from the ground, still a little woozy. You grab his arm to steady him, then decide to wrap your arm around his back. He stiffens slightly but eases into your arm for support. When he rests his arm around your shoulders, both of you begin the journey to his home.

“Just so you know, I have unfinished work thanks to your ‘little’ favour. You owe me now. Maybe you should be the one buying me a parfait instead, honeypie.”

He glances at you only for a moment, unamused, before he turns away. You laugh, getting a kick from the whole night of teasing your friend-turned-boyfriend. Suddenly, you stop laughing.

“You didn’t throw up before you met me right?”

“I didn’t.”

Disgust starts creeping onto your face. “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

“I didn’t, you shit.”

[drippingmoon]

Merry new year to everyone, again! 🥳💞🥂

I know it wasn’t an event this year, but writing a yearly wrap-up is really therapeutic, you know? So I decided to continue the tradition, and if anyone wants to join me, absolutely view this as an open invitation^^ Introduction is over, and now let’s see what 2023 looked like:

(spoilers: I adored it. I'm also probably going to make this my fixed post, in case anyone ever wants to catch up with me. And also because my second baby, AoS, is growing, and it doesn't have an intro, but I can't leave it out.)

Stats

Aquiver, Aglow: 181k (draft 4) + 195k (draft 5) + hmm, draft 6 is an outlier, because I didn’t rewrite from scratch, so I’m unsure of the written word count. I didn’t change much from draft 5, so I’d say an extra 15-20k. Total word count: 376k+

Remains of a Night: 120k 

Aberration of Sunlight: 134k

This was definitely my most productive year to date. And I got so hungry: the more I wrote, the more I just wanted to keep writing, and honestly? I’m proudest of myself for literally carving writing time whenever I got a spot into my schedule. Mostly it was from 8pm-11pm, but I had a mad run where my only free window was from 1am till I literally felt I was dying… I’ll talk about that separately🤣🤣👌

Though, I'm seriously understating it.

Like a lot of other people, I would have all these hours when I was younger when I didn't have anything to do, yet I'd still find some excuse not to write. "I'm waiting for the right time." "I'm anxious I'm not going to get it right." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow I can start right from the morning, and I'll have more time to write, yeah?" or "I'm too tired now, it's late..." and so the snowball rolled down and downhill and I found every reason under the sun not to write, now that I think about it. Sigh. So much time wasted. But I can't regret it either, because I needed those baby steps at that time.

And now! Now I do what I thought I'd never learn to: I prioritize, and I actually organize my daily stuff so it's not so impossible anymore to have a little bit of writing time. I don't take it for granted either. It feels like such character growth for me, I'm immensely proud of it.

And for the record? This year was a huge improvement over yesteryear mentally, too. It turns out, what I needed to get over my word count anxiety… was to be faced with people who literally didn’t give a fuck about it, and just cared about the story. One of the most unexpected things beta stage managed to do to me… was to quench all my anxieties. It’s as simple as that. I read and enjoy very long books. People also do that. So, I’m very happy to say I’m no longer in a tizzy about ‘quiv. It might kill my chances for trad publishing, it might not. I’ll be happy come what may.

Because it’s so simple how working on ‘quiv or thinking about it makes me joyous, and now I can just enjoy that freely. I will miss writing this story so much. I really will. But at least I’ll have it forever to reread, and I hope this thought brings comfort to everyone who also has problems letting go, like it does to me.

Let’s break it down a little, shall we?🤩

Aquiver, Aglow◇◇◇

My little star of the hour. How fond I am of it.

Like you could glean from above, ‘quiv went through three drafts this year. More specifically: in the first part of the year, practically almost as soon as February arrived. I knew it was getting closer to the final version, and gave me the push to finish all three back to back. I couldn’t justify anymore the bazillion AUs I do with rewrites (basically, WHAT IFs from events, WHAT IF it went this different way, WHAT IF Tyrone actually said this here… and so on and so forth. I wanted to test out as many pathways as possible, and did I exhaust every one of them in existence? Definitely not. I don’t think that can happen, you just keep getting new ideas. On and on. What happened, instead, is that these couple different pathways, at some point, cemented themselves as canon in my mind. I didn’t want to tease myself with alternatives anymore, and that’s when I knew they would be it. Some bits from the first draft, some from the third, some from the second. Some were even draft 6 originals!

It’s a bit of a weird process. I definitely didn’t need to reach draft 3, and meet Mezusa, because I could’ve feasibly made it work with just Yles in the story. It still would’ve made sense, though in a different way. But if I hadn’t… I might’ve missed one of the best characters I’ll ever probably have created, and the story (and Yles) is much stronger for her, if you ask me. 

For that matter, yes, full rewrites every single draft might take a lot of time and effort, but honestly I don’t think I’d ever change my writing process (save for the moments of frustration when I think I will lol) because of the sheer satisfaction of it. Whoever said so long never to settle on the first version, I owe you a beer and probably some curses as well lmao, but very lovingly. You shaped my writing life.

I don’t have much else to share about ‘quiv, other than it’s off with my beta readers my beloved, and maybe a tentative promise that, if anyone wants, you’ll be able to read this precious ball of hope of mine relatively soon. This story is so gentle to me. And as much as I loved to write and work on it, I dearly hope that whoever decides to give it a go, is treated just the same. That’s the only wish I have.

I also don’t know if I’ll go trad or self-published. Instincts say trad, because I fuckin’ suck at marketing (fact), and I know I’d grow resentful if I’d have to put so many hours into advertising when I know I could instead… write. I’m a writer. That’s the only thing I know how to do. Trad, however, might not be as kind on a ~200k as life’s been, so I might not have a choice. If it comes down to that… I’ll just treat it as I do everything. I don't love this story any less if I just write, publish without a fuss, hope that maybe, just maybe, a reader or two will stumble upon the story and we could talk. Maybe we can have the fun of our lives, create some genuine connection. I know that’s applies to a lot of writers. I hope we can accomplish it.

And so, I’ll finish this section of the wrap-up with a kiss to my ‘quiv, for all the warmth it’s ever brought me. It’s come so far, I know it can live distinct from me from now on. It brings me great comfort. And I look forward to the times I’ll reread it, and we can relive our best experiences together. Never thought I’d get to this point. Thank you, ‘quiv.

Remains of a Night♤♤♤

Mwhahaha! And because ‘quiv took all the pressure, this left AoS to be an extremely fun and spirited experience. Literally the chillest I’ve ever been writing. In many ways, it’s more my thing than I expected ‘quiv to be: I get to murder characters left and right, it’s more plot-heavy and banking on the tension created by a creature that horrifies the characters down to their marrow, but still the only way to defeat it is to know it better, which, uh, might have unpleasant consequences for them. It’s got chase and stealth scenes, and it always shoots me with adrenaline to think about them. In short, exactly my jam.

It’s not a new book, nope. You knew it before as Aberration of Sunlight, but from the get-go I felt it would be bigger than ‘quiv. Very fortunately for me, I had a place where to break it, and behold: there’s RoaN (book 1), and AoS (book 2). There might be a third book, which I dearly hope not because titling sucks, but it depends on the Sycamine arc. More on that in AoS.

One last thing to note, before we delve into the story (hoo-ray for earlier drafts, because I can talk more frankly about them). This is the culprit of my 1am writing adventures!!😫❤ My schedule became too packed, then NaNo came round and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to honor how AoS began, because it was last year’s NaNo, aaand I’m happy to say I won NaNo, somehow, with 56k down before I died. At that time, I only had one section left to write (from both books), otherwise, hahahaha, yeah, it wouldn’t have flown. Still, most of draft 2 I’d written in September-October, with my fairy lights, late nights, and cups of hot cocoa, exactly like how life should be<3

Alright. We’re going through them chapter-by-chapter again, exactly because I love seeing the titles so much:

ACT 1

Cracked Visor, Scorpion Grass

I did it! I did! Twas another shower thought I managed to get down in time. Bare broken sentences, but they did the impossible, and arranged this chapter into a structure I adore to bits and won't ever change. (And 'quiv's naughty voice left me alone for once and I could write it properly!) While I don't think I'll ever be happy with a first chapter (not as a concept, but the writing — part of me will always wish that the reader just had all the information already lol), this one is in the right place.

It pays its respects to the story of the broken helmet at the foot of a spaceship, and how it reconnects Madigan with all the people who'd suffered from being tethered to the planets when they yearned to fly, but the Beast punished them cruelly for it. It makes him feel phantoms of their efforts. The tone is exactly what I needed this story to start from: melancholy and numbly hopeless, against the backdrop of the Beasts's echoed cries.

Rain Through the Universe

Unlike 'quiv, because RoaN and AoS are way more plot-heavy, it's not as easy to change things willy-nilly (whereas 'quiv was all about character bonds and dynamics). As such, it's very similar to draft 1. Because of that, I'll frankendraft next (select and combine drafts 1 and 2, rewrite to connect them) and afterwards I'll try something I've always wanted to. (Scrivener keeps hinting at it!) I'm gonna split the chapters into scenes, and focus on those individually and how I can just rewrite them and set their purpose in stone<3 I'm excited!

As for the chapter itself, gods, I love the atmosphere. Just the wreckage of a sundered ship, and Madigan’s sudden madman appearance making a lasting impression on Spica, because how could it not. They no longer answer distress calls in that age, it just means more dead bodies. In fact, they're forbidden to. Madigan instead brings him what he himself lacks: hope. And a lot of crawling around while dreading the Beast's lambent eye opening, and oh my, the moments are really flying by😈👏 extreme fun for me as the writer.

Aberration of Light

If you remember, the books follow two timelines, which will connect at some point. The first and main one is Madigan and Spica’s story. The other is Holloway’s, in the distant past of that universe, and who’s been dubbed the most selfish man in existence. That’s important, because of how the Beast came to be. But that becomes important later. For now, a weird-ass new recruit has joined the ship, and the witchy crew will very soon start making bets if she’s the Beast in human flesh, which really wouldn’t bode well for their future.

Night Falls On Their Reflection

Draft 2 became Spica’s draft. It was high time. He didn't exist in the original idea beyond chapter 2, but he refused to die with his story untold. And now he's one of the most independent thinkers I've ever written. Now he's Madigan's son (yes, even at 25), best friend, back-to-back partner all in one, and I could watch the trust and mutual respect between these two forever. To be sure: Madigan comes up with the dumbass plans, and Spica's only too happy to follow him through everything (it is good fun.)

He's repaying the incredible kindness Madigan's shown him when answering his distress call, after all.

But it goes a bit further than that, doesn't it? Madigan is used to watching over myriad people. He's the Superintendent of his planet, and while he genuinely loves people, kindness is his default. It doesn't go further than that for him. He doesn't necessarily think people need, much less desire his presence there beyond Madigan extending help, and most of the time, he's content with that. Kindness does make him happy. And it should be the same with Spica now, shouldn't it? He's kind, but he's not Spica's family, nor ever will be. Yet he immediately feels a connection with the boy, that has nothing to do with bonding over escaping-a-cosmic-disaster. And so does Spica.

This is the moment when Madigan starts feeling guilty, for stepping where he should not. But here's the beauty of Spica's character: he's nothing if not dead sure of his own feelings, and what he sees with his eyes. It's okay if Madigan keeps unexpectedly taking steps back. For very long, there'd been nobody to support Spica's beliefs. So he does the same, as when he followed his heart to go into dead space: he believes in himself and Madigan, and that their paths aren't meant to diverge. They mean too much to each other for that to ever happen.

(In short, and legend says you can still hear me screeching about these two ten thousand years later, I love these two so much, and especially the parallels between Spica going alone into outer space and loving Madigan.)

(And, okay, obviously all these developments don't happen in a single chapter, but I couldn't stop gushing🤭🥰.)

Who Puts These Tombs in Ice

Overall, I think draft 2’s Luitgart performed worse than draft 1. Mainly it's the setting I want to revert (still an icy, sempiternally dark hell, but with different ice constructions) because some of the beats are a huge improvement, and again, I gotta combine the two. Otherwise, I’m still as obsessed about the Luitgart arc as I’ve ever been, and huge thanks to it for being so strong it could function as an ending of its own, allowing me to split the book.

Gettin’ into spoilery territory, but I have to un-kill Madigan so many times it leaves me in hysterics. That was what I was supposed to fix this draft. It got worse. Considerably.

(One constant: the chapter being a love letter to Madigan, and how his first answer will always be to help the other, no matter if they deserve it or not<3 and finally, finally, he gets acknowledged for it, and the favor returned.)

ACT 2

Lemon-Dotted Days + Remnant

Two Holloway chapters! I’m actually massively pleased with how they’ve turned out. Last year, I said the main issue was that I had an outline, and that never works for me. So I did what I do best and rewrote everything from scratch, and the result is both uncanny and… unexpected.

Unexpected, because I never in my life thought Holloway’s voice would make me laugh so much. He’s supposed to be unsympathetic, but then you get his interactions with Saintlark (the new crewmate, possibly Beast) where they’re contemplating the harvest of a nebula, and he’s harshly critical of it, which gives Saintlark hope… only to go deadpan One Moment Later: if they’d used the nebula to prolong their lives instead of bolstering the war, they wouldn’t have died like clown idiots. 

And, they could’ve maybe stolen immortality from the nebula. They would've had to share it with him, of course. Or he would've murdered them to get it.

That, my guys, is his personality in a nutshell.

I have a lot of feelings on Holloway now, and most involve me huffing and slapping my forehead while groaning, but oh my gods. Was it ever so fun. And wait, wait, wait. Since I'm talking of humor (apparently a lot of comedy fit into this horror lmfao) I have to show you guys the following section🤣🤣👏:

Corpse Snow

The drifters are set howling on the ice. They share glances, five separate vehicles nodding at each other. Madigan revs up the engine, splitting the air with a jet of steam and vibration.

The last of the marines are climbing into the box. A figure flashes past Madigan’s drifter — and he leans over, teeth grinding because of his ribs, and he does his very best to grab someone by the back of their suit and pull. Workout days were never his strength, though. He only succeeds in stopping them in the frost smoke.

It’s Spica dangling from his hand, expressionless.

Lieutenant Hahn instantly seizes on the situation. He throws Madigan a long, withering look. “Whatcha doing, Boss?” he asks softly, about to unhinge his jaw again.

Madigan nudges Spica into the drifter. “Picking up your boy.”

Spica gets the hint and deposits himself into the front seat, glancing from his father to his Superintendent. He seems to give up on whatever’s going on, and makes himself cozy in the frosty spot. And Madigan, of course, pretends not to notice Hahn’s drifter sliding closer.

“And you didn’t consider I might want to have my son with me?”

Madigan looks up and sighs. “Lieutenant, dear Lieutenant,” he starts pleadingly. “Why won’t you show some leniency to a poor, wounded man?”

Hahn’s drifter stops, summoning a breeze across the icy floor that gently rocks the other vehicle. His breathing distorts the comms with static. “And what exactly is my son right now?”

“My trusty navigator,” Madigan answers easily.

“Sir’s emotional walking stick?” Spica pipes in at the same time.

They both look over. Spica’s quietly turned to the navigation, as serene as daylight, seemingly oblivious to how Madigan's expression changes, lightning-fast. He quickly hides it under the guise of a polite mask, as the marines stir and turn their attention on them. They’re snickering.

Lieutenant Hahn throws up his hands, giving up on everything.

This is also the first 30k chapter I’ve ever written. It's everything I've ever wanted to do with ice.

Heart of the Void

The end of the book. Originally, it was the ending section to Corpse Snow, but since it already got so ungodly long, I chipped off that bit and I have to say I’m very happy with how it works as an epilogue! So it ends the frosty, weary journey, and I can’t see the two books as separate yet, but here we bid goodbye to the first.

Aberration of Sunlight♧♧♧

I did the unthinkable and created a fifth arc. This might not seem like much to you, but I was screaming bloody murder you guys😭😭😭. Sigh. It’s so sigh. For so long, AoS consisted of four clear-cut acts, but it was necessary. With the introduction of Sycamine, and making it two books, it was just needed. It’s still one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was used to four😃💔

(The chapters continue from where RoaN left off – from chapter 10, to 21.)

ACT 3

Retro Spectrum

Sycamine, oh Sycamine. Definitely the break I needed before Days in Darkness. It made for a really neat beginning. It’s calmer, focusing on the knowledge they have on the Beast. It’s also a reflection on Procyon (their main star) and the story of the two straggler dog constellations, and what they'd been running away from. I liked the direction it took. It veered away from the Beast for a bit, so the tension kept expanding in the background. And when it returns, well... maybe they shouldn't have been so eager to see it again🤭.

It suffers from the same syndrome as draft 1’s first chapter… it’s there in the vicinity of the idea, but too much to the left. Not bad for a first attempt. The setting annoys me – I really don't enjoy writing cities, and AoS didn't change that. So, for our next try, I was thinking... maybe we don't need to be on the planet, but up close and veeery personal with it. It's a secret❤.

And, oh gods. I put a moustache-twirling villain in this. And then I couldn’t stop myself from naming some sucker Sweetman Calories. I don’t know what happened to me during those days, but I’m crying🤣🤣🤣.

Toast to the Light

Holloway and Saintlark’s story is slowly coming to an end. Unexpectedly bleaker than draft 1, yet it feels much more sincere. Holloway has a way of saying everything Saintlark needs to hear. No surprise. They did that to themselves.

Dissonant Recognition

Ahhhh, the Madigan-is-slowly-losing-his-grip-on-reality chapter, or maybe he should really stop staring into the suns. One of my favorites<3 Also because it features Moren (!!!) who has a blast staying in the grey morality area, because she doesn’t know if her actions could ever matter, or if she could change anything. Does she just exist? Is she a player or just pawn? Who knows. Besides that, she gets along great with Spica. They form such a teasing duo, the level of mutual respect they felt for each other on sight was a delight to write. My favorite ally of theirs, even if her destiny lies elsewhere.

Night Beneath the Elevator

Best title hands down, dethroning Solgesis. I’m going batshit crazy about the visuals, it's exactly my thing. This half-light slanted over an elevator waiting in a rundown basement to be boarded. And there's something underneath it, and always has been. Something insidiously creeping up and waving its tendril fingers at you as you're just waiting for the fucking thing to ascend. Immaculate, guys, I'm telling you, and I'm cursing my hands because I can't make a wallpaper of this. I want to eat that atmosphere.

Time-sensitive missions, y'all.

And why the heck did nobody inform me I was going to add Command as an actual character and have them talk with Madigan?! That entire convo, made up entirely on the spot but somehow with a direction, made me realize what an idiot I’d been for not doing it sooner. They mean so much to Madigan, after all.

(And Mariya. So much Mariya in these chapters.)

ACT 4

Loop System

Like Who Puts These Tombs in Ice, draft 1 might’ve done it better. Not Spica and Madigan, though, because of the sheer development Spica’s been through and the dynamic he’s managed to form with the crew. It's different from Madigan’s, but similar enough that it’s got Hahn commenting lightly: [Spica’s] picked up quite a few habits from Madigan, hasn’t he? Almost as if they’ve gotten very very close, huh? How about Madigan tell him more?

(I adore writing Hahn.)

Outreach

Another Holloway chapter. Doesn’t have the punch of the kids subplot from draft 1, but this just makes it worse for Saintlark personally, because, this time, the consequences are on her.

Days in Darkness

I knew the moment I first got the idea this would be my favorite chapter. Well, it finally happened in draft 2: when the entire crew is here, this time, and ready for the final countdown, to relive the experience of being trapped in a ship that's disintegrating. No more heroes left behind. I'd been so tired writing this chapter in draft 1, but this time around it was incredible. Everything went up sharply from here, both in terms of events and how on fire I was.

(Maybe less than the gorgon, but I was.)

ACT 5

Echo Terminal

The first of the two log chapters.

I've never written smoother, more visual chapters than in this period. Days in Darkness changed me so much, I was writing day and night by this point and couldn't get enough. Well, I hit my limit in the second half of the very last chapter, but I am beyond satisfied. Even the Beast's metamorphosis took me by storm, because I'd been wondering what the final verbs, the final images, the final design for it was going to be. I didn't expect it to come to me this early, and with such thrill. Those were my very best days of the year, and I toast to them.

(And I knew it was going to be fantastic when Halo's Warthog Run OST started blaring in my head, with as much adrenaline.)

Where, Now? + Solgesis

My beloved. The second and last of the two log chapters, but it’s Noelle Saintlark’s log.

Holloway’s timeline ends here. Or maybe it just gets carried into the future. I thought I’d want to rewrite his parts again, make the plot just a tiny bit more psychedelic and nonsensical because it’s so close to the Beast… but Solgesis put all my fears to rest. Even the formatting and layout is a bit of that special thing I’ve always wanted to try, and it really changes the perspective of the previous chapters. There's a new confession that stands at the heart of Holloway's stories.

Honestly, the only thing that needs urgent working on is the anger at the end of the chapter.

Anger is so hard for me to write sometimes. Not because I don’t connect with it, but because I feel self-conscious writing it. The wildest I felt it was when I tackled 'quiv's chapter 3 and Imera's Turning speech, both in quick succession (before I'd even written draft 1. I'd been taking notes.) Since then... I just thing back to how keenly I'd felt that anger, and I kind of intimidate myself out of it. Kind of like a natural resistence, I quench it from myself. Which is actually hilarious when you think about it. It’s like I’m going I BANISH THEE FROM MY BRAIN because generally, as a person, I dislike feeling and operating on anger. But no worries. I’m going to find a way around it.

Watch me😎.

What Goes Around…

(Now it’s the time for me to start crying some rivers, and, alright, it won’t be visible so I’ll say it: the chapter titles are holding a conversation, guys. They speak to each other. And sometimes it’s both sides of the same coin, like how What Goes Around (comes around) hints here. If you take two chapters, one from the beginning and one from the end (for example 1 and 21) it'll tell you a little secret. Okay, What Goes Around and Rain Through the Universe communicate through their plot, which I can’t spoil but of course it has to do with Madigan and Spica and how they first meet… but there is one title pair that does it best visibly. 

Lemon-Dotted Days and Days in Darkness.

And I hadn’t even planned this. All the parallels I wanted to draw… I feel like they built themselves, guys. They really did, and it makes me so wildly happy I don’t even know how to stop my hands from flailing.

And, with them being 21 chapters, they meet in the middle, on the one unpaired chapter.

Called Toast to the Light.

I friggin’ love everything.

New Sunrise, Forget-Me-Right

Of course, Forget-Me-Right is a play on Scorpion Grass. But it’s also such a gentle name for the chapter, because everything ends here. Lying on their backs, staring out into the universe, and it really, really is over. Just a dark horizon on which stars flare and bloom. And suddenly, that maddened rush to make every sacrifice count, to remember every soul they’ve encountered because the legend says the Beast absorbs you when it kills you – all that suffocating pressure dissipates. Lightness remains. Because they’ve protected each other.

For the first time in my writing journey, blood rushed to my head with such emotion I had to stop writing, which never happens. I had to look up and exclaim, holy fuck. But how could I not, considering how the story ends for the Beast? I am speechless. A lot of gorgeous surprises this draft.

Conclusion□●□

Whew, what a year it's been! As for how 2024 will probably look like, though I don't like making plans: finishing the beta stage for 'quiv, and tackling RoaN and AoS's draft 3. Thaaaat one I'm actually starting on Christmas, when I can (finally!!) reread draft 2 with my mug of hot cocoa (or maybe mulled wine for a change) and, no surprises here, I'm hyper stoked for that<3 <3 <3 I legit can't wait to see where the new draft brings them. I might not have set any expectations for them, but they're vying to keep up with 'quiv and I adore it🤭❤

As for my lovely friends... well, you know by how I spam your tags how much I adore you and wish you happiness forever🤩🥺🥳 I don't know what my activity will look like in the near future, so for now I won't be saying anything, and my semi-hiatus continues. Semi, because you're unforgettable and I crave to see what everyone's been up to and (!!!!) what you've written!

So let's meet in 2024 again, and all the best wishes to you, the reader🥰🥂❤.

[uloelu]

Location: Windslar, Windenburg

(transcript under the cut)

Episode 2 | Previous | Next

So excited to be back with this series. Episodes 3-5 are going to be a bit shorter than usual, but only because I'm in the process of planning a huge slate of parties, plot-changing events, etc. for summer break. Can't wait to share what I've cooked up with you! No additional parts to this episode, so I'll be back with episode 4 as soon as I finish editing my screenshots.

Episode 3: Suddenly Summer

Scene 1 - 28 Windslar

Irving (narrating a montage of the Brookestone-Walker household enjoying the first few days of summer): I hate summer. Okay, maybe that’s a little strong.

I like that, instead of pacing around in the house because rainstorms have flooded her usual trails, Chloe can go for her morning runs. I like that everyone in the house seems to be happier than in the spring, when the six of us first moved in.

(Cut to a political protest in San Myshuno)

Miki Ojo: What do we want?

Yuki Kuma: A living wage!

Miki: When do we want it?

Josh: Now!

(Cut back to Wes and Morgan making out in her apartment building)

Irving: I like that Josh and Wes have found actual hobbies instead of fighting about who gets to use the household computer (it’s mine). Although I’m not sure you can call what Wes gets up to a “hobby”. (He sneaks into the house at 1AM smelling like weed and cat dander.)

But aside from the awful heat—who knew Germany could get as hot as Willow Creek?—and prom fever at school, summer means I can’t keep avoiding my biggest irritation: Dr. Crêpes.

Scene 2 - Willow Creek Library

Irving: I don’t even know why I have to be here. I’m doing fine in school. Principal Prescott says I’m a shoo-in for valedictorian next year.

Dr. Crêpes: That’s great, Lindsey!

Irving: Irving. Everyone calls me that.

Dr. Crêpes: Right. Irving. (coughs) Child services recommended that I talk to you weekly to make sure you’re settling in well at your foster home. Now that school’s about to let out, it’s important that you receive all the help you need to remain your best self in the summer.

Irving: What if I don’t need any help?

Dr. Crêpes: Well—

Irving: No, seriously. I was told after my diagnosis that nothing had to change. That I’m fine just the way I am. That I get to define what autism means to me.

Dr. Crêpes: That’s absolutely true, Irving. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to upend your life. Think of me as a listening ear for whenever life stresses you out.

Irving (unconvinced): …

Dr. Crêpes: Unless you’re one of the lucky people who never get stressed out, in which case I totally envy you.

Irving: I did not say that.

Dr. Crêpes: Well, then, I’d love to hear anything you’re willing to share.

Irving: You promise not to tell anyone? Not even Audreyanna or Evelyn?

Dr. Crêpes: Therapist’s promise.

Scene 3 - Magnolia Park, Willow Creek

[Invited guests: Mila and Wolfgang Metzinger (aka Munch), Rani Anglond, Marissa Collins, Joy Jentanon, Cassandra Gótico (aka Goth), Morgan Landings (aka Fyres), Gene and Matt Whitmore (latter is @aashwarr's original character and won't be shown on-screen/quoted in these screenshots.]

Irving: Fine. Therapy wasn’t all that bad. And neither was the picnic our foster moms threw to celebrate the beginning of summer. I was surprised to see how many friends the other foster kids invited. I sure didn’t have anyone to invite. Not that I minded.

Cassandra (introducing Matt to Irving and Josh): Hey, Irving, come say hi to Matt. He says you’re in the same computer club.

Irving (cloudgazing): No, thanks. I’m trying to find video game characters in the clouds.

Joy (walking up to them): Aren’t you that guy who wrote that political op-ed in the school paper last week?

Josh: Am I?

Joy: Of course you are. I’m never wrong about these things. Josh, right?

Josh: Maybe. And you are...?

Joy: Joy. Chloe invited me. Your foster moms seem cool.

Josh: I’ll pass along the compliment. Didn’t think anyone actually read the paper. You into politics?

Joy: Very. I like to keep on top of things.

Josh: Well, Joy, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Joy (smirking): Spare me. I hated your take.

[rodolfoparras]

I wrote a whole ass response of several paragraphs last night but then customer walked it and I accidentally exited the app and it was all gone 😔 also someone was here playing bingo until 22:59 and we close at 23 so I had to stay 20 extra minutes to finish everything.

Good news though, I won't have to work entire day on Sunday! I was complaining to my coworker about it and I guess she talked with my boss? So I only have to work one shift after all and she's angel for helping me. And thankfully I don't have to stand while working, in fact we do have to sit but it's extremely uncomfortable position anyways plus the chair is awful?? There are two monitors as well and by the end of the shift my body likes to remind me of how bad my chronic pain can get 😭

As for Cassidy, I might get heat for this but I just don't see the appeal. He's so... whatever? There are some cowboys I like (Boothill from Honkai star rail my beloved 🫶🏻) but I never got the Cassidy appeal. Besides, Reaper is right there?? And absolutely gorgeous?? (In other news fork found in kitchen I like edgy, brooding traumatized men) Although Hanzo is delectable as well.

And the fact that you immediately assumed Butcher is my type is so funny because my ex best friend (long story) got me to watch The Boys by showing me Butcher because he knew I'd adore him!

And I didn't check up on you in a few days, so how are you? I hope you're doing well and everything is ok <3

-🔮

They were there until 22:59? Jesus Christ I know they’re trying to get away from the 9-5😭

Aaaah sugar bee those are such good news!! And I’m glad someone stepped in to help you it’s genuinely not fair to assign all the workload to you especially when they know you can’t complain much since you’re the newest employee:(

Oh honey bee I am so sorry 😭 if there’s something jobs will do is they’ll take the most comfortable thing to exist like sitting and make it uncomfortable 😭 do you have anything to relieve the pain after such shifts?:( I don’t have chronic pain but I can get horrible back pain from long shifts and just that fraction of pain is horrible I can’t even sit up straight can’t even imagine what it’s like having chronic pain!!

Sugar bee I think it’s just that we have different types! For me boothill is a pretty boy and that’s as far as it goes while I’d have Cassidy carry my children but I can agree with you on reaper!!! He is so yummy!!!

Also I’m good sugar bee!! I’ve just had a very busy past couple of days and my body is tired yesterday I spent all day preparing for Bajram/ Eid while also juggling work didn’t go to bed until 1am and then woke up 4.30 for work 😭 when I finally got home from work I was so dead I napped until like 15.00😭 so i apologize if I sound a wee bit less energetic!! Genuinely just being a super sleepy boy :(

[blocksruinedme]

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

44. any writing advice you want to share?

22) my writing process!

be living my life, possibly babysitting or driving (maybe talking about blorbos)

think "hey what if...."

become possessed

from there it splits Version A - the fastest, and rarest, one

A1. get to my couch (or a different laptop place, or a notebook if desperate)

A2. Frantically let words spill out of me, often wishing my fingers could keep up with my brain. It's sometimes almost painful, needing to get the words out

A3. edit for a variable amount of time an post

My first published mcyt was like this - watched ranchers in the crossover at 11am, ideas marinated all day, came up with "what if tango's the key to fix fwhimmy" walking to my car at 5pm, started writing like 5:15 and published at maybe 1am. almost 5k long. Insane. that was MY EX STOLE MY SOULMATE.. | Empires SMP S2 1.19 (rated T) and I'm told also With Their Knife to His Throat (rated M) but I legit have next to no memories of writing that one, I think it was 48 hours from idea to published (4k).

B - normal version. Note: all of this is interspersed with working on a lot of other stories

B1: Have an idea, probably frantically but maybe it builds

B2: Think about it a lot, maybe ideas in a little notebook if they are coming at the wrong times. 

B3: write down bits of prose as they come, do a lot of outline in gdocs. 

B4: start writing from the beginning based on outline but also what feels right - in any given moment, i know more about the story than i did when i wrote the outline

B5: if i’m lucky write chronologically and work through the outline and add things. Often a section isn’t coming and i skip ahead. If it’s not happening, it’s not time for it to happen. To write the way I really want to, I need to know how it ends, so I can have the story build. 

B6: probably fuss a lot

B7: beg people for help and to tell me it’s okay to publish

B8: stress a lot about if it’s good enough and about minor changes i could make

Optional: B9: put it down for 1-7 months (i just published a fic from january, and two of my bang fics are from september and november)

B10: publish it pretty much the same as it was in B8

(I deleted C by adding B9 but already wrote D)

D: Probably just the once

D1: See a prompt for driving after dark and get unexpectedly interested

D2: write 2k of notes while trying to get another story done

D3: Give myself 6 days to write those 2k of notes and then it’s 20k and my longest fic ever and oops needs a lot of typo fixes: The Key to His Problem (rated E)

The editing etc process:

 During every version of this I have a gdoc shared with people and am begging for advice. If i can’t decide on a word when i’m writing and have some flow going, i say “they were all [very] surprised” and leave a comment (or just the brackets) to come back later and fix it. THIS IS MUCH OF HOW I WRITE FAST. The first draft is to get out it out of my head, the second draft is to get it into the reader’s head. SOMETIMES the flow is perfect and i don’t need to do this, but like, idk, 10% of the time? 

A lot of the words in [brackets] will wind up staying as is, but it gives me permission to move on without feeling like i’ve settled. 

Editing sometimes involves a lot of of editing passes, sometimes just because i want to work on it and don’t want to write. This can mean the early parts get soooo much more love. 

Sometimes I print out a fic that has gone through a set of editing and do more on paper. It can be great. I just see the story differently, and it mostly keeps me from adding huge amounts, and i catch errors i didn’t otherwise. 

Usually i put up the ao3 draft a few days earlier and start adding tags and putting in my text (which i do in html) to look at it. The title often comes the day i publish, cause i wait till the end.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

typed unless i don't have my laptop. I started carrying around a pocket sized notebook in march and i'm onto my second one. I got it in a Japanese stationery store and got hooked, i have this line in many sizes, here's my pocket notebook -https://www.jetpens.com/Maruman-Mnemosyne-N184A-Twin-Ring-Memo-Pad-A7-Graph/pd/7379 I've written in this baby in the corner of a club cause i had ideas waiting at the bar for a drink.

44. any writing advice you want to share?

You have to get the words out. You have to get the words out. You have to get the words out.

Good words can be, often are, born of less good words.

Don't be afraid of editing! Great fiction generally comes from editing! Put down some fucking words even if you hate them and get to the next part. I do this, I am not preaching advice I don't take. I'll leave a comment sometimes to tell my future self I didn't think they were good words, I just needed them out. It's fine, I survive every single time.

If you don't need to edit, swell! But if you're stuck, just keep writing something -- or if that won't work, or you feel shitty, take a break. Work on another story, do something else, but if you're miserable and slamming your head against the wall, STOP! Don't hurt yourself! Because you shouldn't hurt, and because you'll associate writing more and more with hurt.

Get other people involved. Share snippets with your friends (if you've got an appropriate discord, make a channel for it!) Trade off reading with your writer friends. If you like my writing, know that not a single word I've ever published hasn't been read by multiple other people. My pre-fic writing was generally group works, so that's what feels normal. The idea of publishing with not even anyone to say "Hey Vee, this makes sense in your brain but not mine" is terrifying. You don't need to Have Serious Beta, it can just be cheerleading or really general "point out if anything is a big problem". I found out this week i am a "phenomenal cheerleader" -- your friends, or some kind soul on a discord, don't need to give you literary analysis to say "this part is cool, your fic is good, i hope you publish!"

Fandom is shared joy. Share your joy in every way - cheerleading others, getting other to share joy with you on your works, leave comments, leave kudos, reblog, make happy posts, keep the negativity to smaller spaces, SHARE THE JOY. I've been in fandom legit longer than some of you have been alive and it's always the joy, that's what it always comes back to. Hold onto the joy, that's what will last in your hearts. <3 <3 <3

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.” You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

[peaxhcringe]

Late Work

I wrote this at 2am because I got the idea and decided why tf not write this, it’s also very much my way of avoiding sleep 😌 Enjoy!

Genre: Comfort, Fluff

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x gn! reader

Warnings: a bit of cussing, stress, mentions of taking medication

wc: 1K

It was another night of you staring at your laptop screen, the bright light shinning in your eyes giving you you’re third headache of the week. You have no idea how long you’ve stared at the same worksheet, maybe an hour? 2? You lost track after the clock hit 11:30 pm.

Typically you’d be asleep by now, as it was a Sunday night -well Monday morning by now- but here you were doing some assignments you had managed to forget about. You totally blame Kaminari for this, if he hadn’t decided to make a stupid bet with you in Mario Kart you’d be sound asleep by now.

An annoyed sigh left your mouth as you rested your elbows on the wooden desk, letting your face fall into your hands and your eyes close. You were beyond tired even after drinking 2 cups of coffee and taking your medicine, both of which were supposed to make you focused or at least conscious.

Running your hands through your hair you leaned back in your chair, resting your arms behind your head as you stretch your back a satisfying pop filling your ears.

You glanced at your phone, thinking if you should really wake your boyfriend up. Your heart drops as you look at the time, 1:15 am, you have training first thing in the morning and at the rate, you’re going you’ll never finish this work.

Taking a deep breath you grab your phone and dialing his number and holding the phone up to your ear, heart beating loudly as you listen to the first ring then a second then a third. By the 5th ring you begin to think he isn’t gonna pick up, but as you move the phone away you hear the ringing stop then the sound of sheets shuffling.

“Hello?”

Bakugou’s voice makes your stomach do flips, you’ve heard his morning voice, plenty of times, but damn it never fails to make your heart skip a few beats.

“Hello??”

You quickly clear your throat as you realize you had begun to daze off.

“H-Hey, sorry for waking you up, but um do you think you can come over?” You ask, looking down at your lap watching as you mess with a ring on your pointer finger “You don’t have to, I just can’t get this assignment done and it’s due today and I don’t wanna-“

“Give me 5 minutes”

You’re cut off by Bakugou’s voice, a hinge of annoyance laced in his voice before the call drops.

You feel awful for waking him up, maybe you should have called Kirishima instead. With a sigh you set your phone down on the desk, glancing back towards the clock as you wait for him.

The 5 minutes felt like hours before you finally heard the soft knock then the door finally opening, a tired Bakugou slowly walking into your room. His hair was still the usual unruly mess, the only difference was the fact he was wearing the red and black flannel pajama pants you bought him for the holidays last year.

“This better be good for waking me up at 1am, what do you need?” He asks, closing the door behind him and raising a hand to rub his tired eyes.

“I need help finish these assignments, can you please help me?” You turn toward him, scooting your laptop in his direction, watching as he looks from you to the screen before nodding slowly.

“If I help you, I get to sit in the chair, so move”

You roll your eyes as you stand out of the chair, pushing it towards him lightly, the chair squeaking as he sits down.

After about 5 minutes of you standing next to him, you move his chair, sitting in his lap and facing the laptop. You’re both silent as he writes down each math problem flawlessly, your brain confused on how quickly and easily he’s able to figure out all of this shit.

Of course, he doesn’t make it that easy for you, after every other problem he makes you work it out and do it yourself, letting you use his past ones to help you finish it.

It isn’t until almost 3am when you finally get done, your eyes heavy with exhaustion while Bakugou is rather wide awake from you waking his ass up. Your head rested against his shoulder, your face in the crook of his neck as he began to close out all of the tabs you had managed to open.

His hand slowly running up and down your back, letting you snuggle closer to him, his body heat not helping you stay awake. The soothing sound of his breathing, and the soft ticking of the clock lulling you to sleep.

Although Bakugou wouldn’t dare admit it, he adored the way you’d fall asleep in his arms. He loved the way you scoot closer everytime he moved, your arms wrapping around his middle and fingers hugging tightly to his shirt.

Closing the laptop quietly, he barely lifts you, trying his best to not wake you. His hands gripping your thighs as he walks to your bed, laying you down softly and covering you up. He thought for a moment to leave and return to his room in order to let you sleep peacefully, but decided it against due to the walk back to his room.

He carefully climbed over you, getting comfortable before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to his chest, a soft hum falling from your lips as managed to move impossibly closer to him. A simple “goodnight” leaves Bakugou’s mouth as he gently kisses the top of your head before letting himself fall back asleep.

taglist: @katsulovee @blazedbakugou

[sapphosclown]

Good Hair Crew, Plus Jonah - Oneshot

Jonah just wants to be apart of the Good Hair Crew (ft. mild angst w a happy ending)

tw: description of panic attack/overstimulation

Andi Mack Appreciation Week 2021 

Day 1: Favorite Character

———

———

Was this a stupid thing to be upset about? Kind of. Was Jonah still upset about it? Kind of.

He knew his friends knew of him before they became friends, but they didn’t know he knew of them too. They didn’t have the name yet, but Jonah saw them all the time. If you saw one, you usually saw the other two at their side. It’s a small town and an even smaller school, you get to know who’s friends with who.

When he met Andi he told her he recognized her shoes but that wasn’t the whole truth. Jonah had always admired what Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus had. He felt like he was always hearing drama from one person or another about their friends, but never about the not-yet-known-as Good Hair Crew.

Everyone knew they’ve been inseparable their entire lives and for some reason that made Jonah’s chest hurt in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

So when he and Andi became friends, and then he started becoming closer friends with Cyrus and Buffy, he was kind of excited.

He had offered himself up to join the Good Hair Crew many times, but they always shot him down. And it wasn’t a big deal, he understood that. Which is why he felt so stupid for the way his heart sank when Andi asked him to take that picture of the three of them. He had thought surely by now he was a part of the Crew, but he wasn’t. They were still his friends, but he still felt like an outsider looking in.

And that was accentuated on this stupid particular morning at the Spoon.

Buffy and Cyrus were taking turns retelling the events of the previous night at Andi’s party. Jonah was really happy for them but he felt like he had missed a few chapters.

He accidentally zoned out, watching the ice in his lemonade create a whirlpool as he swirled the straw around.

“JB, you okay?” He heard Cyrus ask.

Jonah snapped his head up to look at his friends who all had a mild look of concern on their faces. “Yeah! I’m good.” He quickly smiled. They all hesitantly bought it before Andi changed the subject.

“So I know we just had a party but do you guys wanna come over tonight to watch a movie? We have a bunch of leftover snacks and I promised Bex I wouldn’t let her eat all of them.”

“Sounds fun.” Buffy smiled, popping a baby tater into her mouth.

“I’m in.” Cyrus chimed.

Andi smiled and turned her attention to Jonah.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sounds good.” He replied.

Andi clapped excitedly before changing the subject once again.

***

Movie night at the Mack’s was always a good time. They had good blankets, good snacks, and the couches weren’t anything special, yet Jonah always felt comfortable there.

After much debate they finally landed on watching Chicken Little. And while it was just a silly movie about a chicken and some aliens, Jonah still found himself a little out of it. What was it about three person friend groups that worked out so well? He kind of felt more like the little fish guy he couldn’t remember the name of. Just an outsider, kind of running around doing his own thing but the group doesn’t mind having him around.

He really tried to fight it but the more he tried the more he dissociated and the further into the spiral he fell until he felt his heart start to speed up and the air became harder to inhale.

God, why now?

“No.” Jonah whispered to himself, shutting his eyes and trying to remember his grounding techniques.

“Jonah—” He heard Cyrus’s voice just slightly muffled as he attempted to think of three thinks he could touch, see, and smell.

“Jonah, you’re okay, just take a deep breath—” Cyrus attempted to put his hand on Jonah's shoulder which is usually helpful but for some reason this time it felt awful and before he processed what was happening, Jonah's legs had taken him out to Andi’s front porch, pacing as he recited the things he could see.

Part of him expected his friends to be out right behind him, and that part was a little disappointed every time he turned to the door and it was still closed. But the other part of him was relieved, he just needed to be alone for a minute, and it was really nice outside; it was quiet.

The crickets were chirping and he could see some of the stars peeking through the thick clouds, the air was cold but not as bad as previous nights. He managed to regain control of his breathing as he took in the scent of the night's wind. He took a seat on Andi’s porch and looked out into the street.

He heard the fire open and close and before he turned to see who had come out he felt his jacket placed gently on his shoulders, soon followed by the stops next to and in front of him taken up.

Buffy spoke up first. “We thought you were probably cold.”

“I’m okay.” Jonah forced a smile.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come out sooner.” Andi said.

“It’s okay—”

“I- I just figured since you rushed out maybe you wanted to be alone but I could’ve been wrong,” Cyrus interjected.

“It’s okay, Cyrus.” Jonah repeated, his smile more genuine this time. “Besides, you were right. I just needed a second alone. It just felt like too much there.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buffy offered.

Jonah let out a sigh. “Okay, I know it’s stupid but… I’ve just been feeling really out of the loop lately and I know I'm usually pretty out of the loop but I feel like I've really grown to be a part of this group yet I still feel like an outsider and like you guys don’t really need me around. Like, I know you guys care about me so I feel really stupid for thinking it but… it just feels like… like… you guys are the Good Hair Crew and I’m always just there tagging along but I’m not part of it. I mean, I know you guys sleepover after the movies and I’m not trying to seem like I don’t like that you guys are close I mean obviously you’re close you’ve known each other since second grade and that’s wonderful but you guys are the first real friends I’ve had and I just still feel so alone and it’s just a scary feeling. I finally have close friends but it’s still the Good Hair Crew plus Jonah.”

It all came out like word vomit and once it was over he regretted saying all of it. No one said a thing, no one knew what to say. He knew he should have said anything, he knew it. And yet he let his mouth take control and now he messed up and he couldn’t take it back.

He kept his eyes on his knees, hoping that maybe he could keep the tears from showing themselves. The silence stayed static in the air, that is until he heard Andi stand up from behind him and walk back inside. He kind of expected Buffy and Cyrus to follow after her, but they stayed in the steps with him.

“I’m so sorry we made you feel that way.” Cyrus said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“It’s fine you guys couldn’t have known.” Jonah sniffled, wiping a tear out of his eye.

“Still, you didn’t deserve to feel like that.” Buffy replied, placing a hand on his shoulder firmly (which Jonah appreciated). “We’re sorry.” She repeated.

“It’s okay, guys, really.” Jonah smiled.

They sat out there for a few more minutes before the door behind them opened again and Andi popped her head out, clearing her throat dramatically.

“Let’s go finish the movie.” Buffy prompted, patting Jonah's shoulder firmly. He nodded and they all headed back into the apartment.

However Jonah was a little thrown off by the blanket fort built in the middle of the room where the four of them had just been watching TV.

“Sorry it’s not perfect, this is the best I could do right now.” Andi said.

“It’s still pretty epic.” Jonah said, trying to figure out how Andi made such a large fort by herself in 5 minutes.

“Go in!” Andi said cheerily, gesturing for Jonah to get in.

Hesitantly, he crawled through the entrance and the other three followed behind. There was a single candle in the middle of the fort but Jonah chose to ignore the obvious fire hazard as it did enhance the ambiance.

“Jonah Beck, take your seat please.” Buffy said with exaggerated formality in her voice.

“I’m already sitting?” Jonah pointed out. She ignored him.

“Upon recent events, the council has made a decision.” Andi continued. She turned her head to Cyrus, they nodded at each other before Cyrus reached out the front of the fort and rationed holdings rolled up sleeping bag.

“Jonah Beck, we would like to formally invite you to officially be a member of the Good Hair Crew.” He said as he extended the sleeping bag to Jonah (avoiding the candle as best he could).

Jonah felt his heart leap and he stared at his friends in shock. “Guys, you didn’t have to do this. I know this is like your thing I never wanted to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding.” Cyrus interrupted. “It’s our thing, yes, but we want you to be a part of it.”

Jonah was at a loss for words. He didn’t really know how to process what was happening and he had so many emotions at once he didn’t know what to do and he may have forgotten to breathe for a minute.

“Plus, you have some good hair, so I think it works out well.” Cyrus teased. “Now can you please take this my arms are getting tired.”

Jonah hesitantly accepted the sleeping bag and his friends started clapping. He knew he was smiling like an idiot right now but he was honestly just really happy.

They adjusted the blanket fort to fit the TV inside, and as they all fell asleep, Jonah looked over to his friends. He knew the bond they had was something special, and to be let in on something that special, it was kind of an honor.

So maybe it was kind of a stupid thing to be excited about, but it didn’t feel stupid. He was just really happy.

———

———

a/n: i think jonah has to be my favorite character and i am always so sad when he’d excluded from the group picture at the end of s3 so this idea came to me one day and i decided Jonah deserves to be officially announced a member of the ghc. thank you for reading sorry if it was messy i wrote pretty much all of this at 1am in various intervals. happy andi mack anniversary week!!!

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Please tell us more about Seventh Virtue–we need more? Also what was your general thought process for writing this right now?

Hello!! Seventh Virtue is the fantastical version of the Fostered series (which I’ve been writing for many years as you probably already know)! I came up with the initial idea for this project back in the summer of 2019, but knew I’d probably never write it because at the time, I couldn’t see myself writing beyond literary fiction (and also: I know nothing about fantasy :)) in fact I think I’ve only ever read 3 fantasy books from the same series and that was years ago)!

This led to why I’m writing it right now, actually! Earlier this week, my sister and I binge watched Shadow and Bone and it reminded me of this project (which I’d called Fostered But It’s Magic haha). I couldn’t help but delve more and more into the project as the days progressed, and so I decided I’d try to draft it. I actually tried to draft this project once before as a screenplay because I thought it’d translate better to screen, but gave up FAST when I realized I am terrible at screenwriting! With this in mind, I knew I wanted to write this project, but I’m also impatient, and know I want to write more things this summer. TBH, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my vacation writing another Fostered book (I planned to write something outside of this universe but apparently it doesn’t want me to??) so yesterday at 1AM, I came up with a very... stupid idea to write 10k words in one day.

I made this decision strictly for anxiety exposure. I’m exporting the vlog where I chat about this experience so I won’t delve too much into it. TL;DR: I wrote 11k words yesterday, and finished the first chapter (almost done the second).

So what’s the book about?? Honestly, it’s pretty loose right now. This is the pitch I wrote way back in 2019, which is more or less accurate:

After being tormented by nightmares of his ex lover, which result in violent hot flashes and an inability to keep up a job, Harrison seeks a magical intervention. When the clairvoyant he hopes will cure his strange ailment turns out to be a con woman—and his old friend, Reeve—he is thrown back into the past and forced to rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind.

The main thing that’s surprised me since drafting is how contemporary this world is?? Despite being literally fantasy, this setting is the most contemporary-aligned compared to the rest of the series. Fostered book 1-6 take place in a sort of dystopia (which gets softer and softer as the books continue), whereas Moth Work and Feeding Habits take place in older-contemporary times (2006)! This book on the other hand I could certainly see taking place in some sort of alternate 2019 (because we :) cannot include the pandemic years :)). It’s also magnificently funny?? I feel really blessed to have just decided to write this book. I know about 10% of what is going on at all times, but it’s so fun to draft!

Something I didn’t expect initially was how big a presence Foster would have in this book! I kind of :) forgot about Foster in Moth Work/Feeding Habits (so sorry he is still an icon), and while I knew he’d be Harrison’s roommate, I kind of assumed he’d be a side character?? But no, he said, I am reclaiming my “Main Cast” title and you can do nothing to stop me. For the majority of what I’ve written, Harrison and Foster are living in the past. This is because Foster can ~time travel, but is incredibly ethical and sustainable, so he refuses to actually change the past/do anything that would affect the present/future. After a hex goes wrong and results in Harrison’s mother getting into an accident and eventually disappearing, Harrison’s life is in literal shambles. Tormented by nightmares and hot flashes, he is NOT living his best life. To cope, Foster agrees to take them back to the past where he can relive the last 5 days before his mother’s accident, thinking they will only stay there for that one week. But when they’ve repeated the same week dozens of time, Foster ups the pressure on Harrison to give him the okay to head back to the present. And when these “hot flashes”/nightmares get even worse, Foster tells Harrison about a “healer” who cured his broken wrist (so he could plant his tomatoes lol), Harrison concedes and they finally head back to present day so he too can visit this woman, who is actually their old friend, Reeve.

This book is SO angsty and hilarious! I think my favourite thing about it is that I get to write Lonan and Harrison falling in love again lol, which I didn’t exactly get to experience in the conventional way (the first time around). By the time we meet Lonan (who is introduced in book 2), he and Harrison already have a pretty complex relationship. This relationship gets even more tangled in book 3, and book 5 is where we get to see the first glimpses of a romance. Somewhere in this timeline, between books 3-5, they ~fell in love, but I don’t know when! I think most of that occurred off the page, so even I don’t know. What’s so fun is now I get to glimpse into that a little bit more. Their relationship is my favourite thing and always has been, about this entire series, so I’m so stoked to finally get to dabble with it from the beginning. All I really know at the moment is that they meet because Lonan catches Harrison being a thief lol so, so much fun tension already to work with!

I’m not sure if I’ll finish this, mostly because the prospect of writing an 80k novel sort of terrifies me?? The project is almost 12k at the moment, and we really have only scratched the very surface, so we’ll see! I haven’t written genre fiction in so long and I’m adoring this! It’s also so much less strenuous than writing literary lols so perfect because I’m still a little wiped out after my semester ended!

Here’s an excerpt when Harrison meets up with Reeve for the first time:

The shop’s name is The Lark’s Lagoon. When he enters, a string of freshwater shells clatter, like bells would. She is not at the table like she was in the past, so he putters around the shop. Some of the things she sells are silly. Plastic mood rings that are clearly heat activated and more suited for a child but marketed to women in their thirties. Ping pong balls with the inscription enchanted aims. Snowglobes with a miniature witch figurine who says I’ll tell your fortune when you shake it.

“That’s a bestseller.” Her voice comes so suddenly that Harrison drops the globe. It shatters across the floor in a glittery bundle. “So you’re going to need to pay for that.”

Harrison describing Lonan lol:

Harrison hated him. He was cute, but Harrison hated him.

Harrison chilling in his timeloop where he can’t be seen:

It’s harder avoiding birds than he thinks. Every time one spots him, his body lurches, magnetized in the direction of the apartment. If it weren’t for the trees he latches onto along the way, he’d already be back at the brownstone listening to Foster lecture him on not being seen and not exploiting his magic. So he becomes more careful. Checks every direction—up down, left, right, diagonally, whatever—until he is certain no one can see him.

Some Stressed Foster dialogue lol I love him protect him at all costs:

“How many times have I told you that you cannot be seen in the timeloop? I woke up with a migraine five minutes ago and when I went to find you, realized you’d slipped out. Do you know how my brain feels when you stretch the timeloop like that? It feels like someone’s cracking it. My brain, a walnut. You, a nutcracker. Not to mention, you didn’t even leave a note. What if you were robbed? Or murdered? What if they dismembered you and I had no idea?

so that’s this project! don’t see any reason to stop writing it, so I’ll make an update on it soon! :) let me know if you have any more q’s!

[im-just-as-sane-as-you]

Life as an INFP:

1. People thinking you're weird because you do things differently to them

2. When you're actually weird but you own it

3. Constant existential crisis

4. Food

5. Procrastination

6. Starting a 1000 new books and never finishing any of them

7. Being that person who reads 7 books at any one time cos #yolo I can keep up with 12 different plot lines.

8. Taking up 1000 hobbies like Beekeeping.

9. I took up beekeeping, until a bee got in my damn suit, and stung me in the eyelid. Still got goddamn trauma from it.

10. Getting sidetracked and end up writing unnecessary paragraphs of pure rambling, and writing it as a separate point to the point on which it is about.

11. Preferring to write than speak

12. Probs likes Tim Burton films

13. Probs relates to Charlie from Perks of Being A Wallflower

14. Forget how to speak when some talks to you *cold sweats*

15. More food

15. "Why am I the way I am?"

16. Wrote 15. Twice and couldn't be bothered to change it cos it's 1am and cos YOLO

17. Probs an old soul who thinks they were born in the wrong era.

18. Forever mistyped as shy when you're just an introvert because there's A GODDAMN DIFFERENCE CLAIRE

19. Even more food

20. Feel like an outsider in a group of friends you've known for years

21. Eventually lose them friends and continue living life with a plant as your friend

22. Was the quiet one in school

23. Probs excelled in English and History

24. Had anxiety and depression at some point

25. Probs still has anxiety and depression cos its a bitch that won't go away and you too anxious or depressed to get help

26. Has an overbearing parent/guardian/family member who just wants to ✨ understand you ✨ but end up acting like a total bitch to you which makes you hate yourself

27. Slowly realises that this list is getting very deep and depressing very fast

28. Has an eclectic taste in music/books/films/TV shows

29. Uses words like eclectic to sound smart

30. More food

31. Writes stuff with 1% battery hoping our phone doesn't die before finding a charger

32. Realises that this list is still going eventhough you're running out of ideas

33. Making any random shizz up because you've got nothing better to do

34. Randomly changing font colour because y not.

35. Used to love heroes in stuff but now totally loves the villain cos who doesn't love a psychotic meglomaniac

@ Tate Langdon from AHS. oofff 🔥

36. Probs read this entire thing out of solidarity to the person who wrote it.

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 13 - Are There God? It’s Me A Winchester

Warnings: Witchcraft?? Some Angst

Word count: 1.9k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Mandy and Dawana cast the spell to shield her from Chuck and work against the Project to take them down. 

Guest OCs: Dawn Floyd (FC: Anna Diop), Camille Floyd (FC: Tati Gabrielle)

Guest Characters: Raphael [Supernatural; female vessel]

Note: Sorry for the delay on the chapters, I'm working on other writing projects and dealing with work and class.

_______

“I wish to know about your past” Joseph tells Mandy, standing in the middle of his church. Cupping her cheeks, looking down at her. 

She takes a deep breath, looking up at him. “I-I’ve. I’ve killed people” she starts off, trying to keep herself from crying. “I’ve killed people. Innocent people. I wish to forget about it. Forget about it all, like it never happened”. 

He runs one of his hands through her hair, showing her comfort. While his other hand cups her cheek. 

“I’ve done bad things to people, I lost my girls because of it” she mutters, looking away from him. She’s not even acting anymore, this shit is all fucking legit, she’s hurting her own feelings just by telling him all of this. 

Reliving the painful memories she had to go through. Whether it was from 13 years ago, 20 years ago, or 7 and a half months ago, she’s feeling and hearing everything single word, and it still hurts her. No matter how strong she tries to be. 

Knowing she has to wait all of this out until the New Moon. She must be patient. Remembering that Raphael left something for her under her pillow, she goes to the room, her and Joseph share, and checks underneath her pillow. 

She finds her deceased husband’s journal. She smiles at it, unwraps the string that keeps it closed and opens it. Reading through it, Joel’s handwriting was always easy to read, it was neat, clean and he also had a very steady hand. Other than the monsters he hunted, he wrote about his life. 

His kids Paige and Katella, Mandy, his younger brother Brent, his childhood and upbringing. Trying to hold back her tears, a part of her wishes she could have her husband back. She knows he watches over her, and their daughters. 

1 month later. 

The New Moon is here, only 12 hours to go until 3 am. With the help of Dawana and her 14 year old daughter Camille. Mandy has everything for the spell. 

She had to keep a low profile from the Voodoo Priestess until the New Moon. Giving her instructions on where to meet her and the correct time to, and angle of the moon. That sort of stuff. 

The spell must be done as it should be, no screws up, can’t waste any time with this spell. Every second counts. They have their location ready, and all the supplies they need. 

Standing next to Joseph for his Sunday sermon, the church filled with his loyal followers. His Children, what he calls them. 

Listening to every word he says, thinking about the utter betrayal she is about to bring to the Project. Turning her back on them, stabbing them in back. 

Helping out the Resistance and the Whitetail Militia. 

With only 10 hours left, she keeps her low profile by being with Joseph for the rest of the day. 

Raphael appeared to her a few times that day to check up on her. Knowing that he’s risking a lot for his human, and a chance that’ll be cast out of Heaven for his disloyalty. Withdrawn from his wings and grace. Being deprived of his angelic powers, and living as a human on Earth. 

Being on the same boat as his older brother Lucifer. 

“You know I’m taking a huge unforgivable risk for you” he tells Mandy. Standing next to her while Joseph does his sermon in the filled church with his brothers and sister behind him.  

“I know” she responds to him in her mind. Looking over at the 3rd Archangel for a split second before turning back to The Father. 

“There’s a risk of me being cast out of Heaven for this disloyalty” he tells her, “God is too busy creating multiple universes and worlds to see this betrayal you, Dawana and myself are planning”. 

She knows all the risks, all God has to do is check on her situation, and see what she’s plotting. Then the next thing she knows there’s a huge mushroom cloud in the sky, and bombs are going off. Killing and wiping out all life on Earth. 

“I know, but a part of me feels like we’ll pull this off” she tells him in her mind, “We’ll get away with this, so called heist”. 

He looks at her with slight fear in his eyes, Archangels are Heaven’s most powerful weapon, they’re loyal soldiers to God. They’re his eldest children. Slightly more powerful than the average Angels, like Castiel, Balthazar, Samandriel, Anael and Gadreel. 

Raphael was always the introverted one of the Archangels, he kept to himself. He did his duties as one of Chuck’s strongest and powerful warriors. He always tried to be one of the loyal ones, like his older brother Michael. He wanted to be on his Father’s good side, the one thing he feared and that includes all Angels. Arch nor not, the one thing they all feared was being cast out of Heaven. Losing their wings and their grace. 

Leaving Heaven for a short time, like visiting Earth, and leaving Heaven completely are two different things. 

Within milliseconds he could go from being Heaven’s most powerful weapon to being an average weak human. Just by taking away his powers and wings. 

*****

After Joseph’s sermon, him and Mandy have a private conversation away from the others. 

“Amanda, I wish to speak with you privately” he tells her. She nods her head, and they go to their shared home. 

Inside the kitchen, he tells her about The Voice, in which she knows that it's Chuck talking to him.

“The Voice, God, he’s telling me about the New World. How everything will be. How you and I will be. He told me that the world is on the brink. That the world is on fire. Something is coming. I can feel it, you can feel it, can’t you?”. 

She nods, “Yes, I feel it. I feel the overwhelming tension it brings. Almost like an explosion of hot, burning air. That is toxic, but will make the world clean and free of sin”. 

He nods his head, agreeing with every word she says, “That is how it ends, with time, we will march to the Gates of Eden to our New World. The world God created for us”. 

Seeing how convinced and determined he is about the New World. Seeing how Chuck has convinced him about the Collapse. The End. The Reckoning. 

Telling him to save as many souls as he can for the Collapse, building bunkers to keep his people safe from the cleansing explosions. Being a modern day Noah, or Hell if you want to hear something that is older than Noah and the Ark. 

The Epic of Gilgamesh in Mesopotamian mythology, and history. Which is also 800-2,000 years older than the story of Noah and the Ark, where the story is basically the exact same thing, just different time periods, while one is based on facts with evidence, and the other is a fictional story from a book of stories. 

*****

With only 5 in half hours until 3am. Mandy gets another visit from Raphael in her home with Joseph. 

“Less than 6 hours Mandeline” he reminds her. She sighs, “I know. I’m just waiting it out”. 

“You know where to go?” he asks. She nods, “Yes, I know where to go. The land that is in the southern part of the Henbane River. It’s isolated from everything”. 

“Prosperity” he tells her, “It’s quiet and no one ever goes there”. 

She nods, “Does Dawana know where it is?”. 

“Yes, she knows where to go” he tells her, “She knows what time to get there. Just before the New Moon passes”. 

Mandy waits it out until 3am. It’s gonna be a long wait, most of the Cult, including Joseph didn’t sleep that night, he was busy working and writing sermons in the church. 

At around 1am, she told Joseph she was gonna go to sleep. An hour and 30 minutes later, Raphael visits her again. Teleporting the both of them to the south end part of the Henbane River. 

Prosperity, a ghost town that was abandoned by its owner so that he could take over his dead rival’s town Falls End in Holland Valley all out of spite. 

20 minutes until 3am, Dawana arrives with her daughter Camille who is a Voodoo Priestess in training. 

“We still have time to set up” Dawana tells Mandy, “This is my daughter Camille”. 

Mandy smiles at her, she’s probably the same age as her eldest daughter Paige. 

They set up their altar, making a circle of candles and lighting all of them. 

“Okay so we all take each other's hands and we say the verse together, in sync or else the spell won’t work” Dawana informs Mandy and her daughter.  

They all join hands, and wait for the New Moon to appear. Raphael stands away from them, watching them from 10 feet away. Hoping this will turn out the way Mandy said it would. As soon as the New Moon appears, as a white ring like shape in the sky, they all, at the same time, cite the verse in Enochian. Looking up at the New Moon. 

“Uranun Caripe Baglen Olgemeganza de-Noan Chiis Gosaa Zamicmage Oleol Ag-Sapah arphe, Oresa ethamz taa”. 

The wind starts to pick up, the candles stay in tack, not blowing out or in the direction of the wind. Still looking up at the moon. 

“Tabegisoroch, Zodinu, Ar zurah paremu. Zodimibe papnorge maninua zonac. Dodsih hoxmarch trian amonons pare Das Niis kures”. 

They finished the ritual, the night standing in complete silence for a brief moment. Standing inside the circle of candles, they ring of the New Moon shining down on them, making a perfect circle of moon light around their circle of lit candles.

“Is that it?” Mandy whispers, breaking the silence. Right after she asks that, a loud rumble is heard off in the distance, sounding like thunder, or the Horn of Gabriel. A lightning strike lights up the sky for a brief moment. 

“It worked” Camille whispers. Out of seemingly nowhere, a strong wind flies by, blowing out all the candles, leaving them in complete darkness.

“Raphael did it work?” Mandy asks the Archangel. 

“Yes, you are invisible to God now” he replies, answering her question.

He takes her back to Joseph's compound, before anyone could notice she was gone. 

Before he leaves, he tells her, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you from Heaven. Now that you’re invisible from God, you can work against the Project. Also Chuck won’t be able to see you. He’ll see another you”. 

She nods, “Yeah I believe you told me that already. He’ll see me doing my duties as The Mother”. 

The silence between the two, the sound of peggies talking outside on the compound property. 

“Get some rest, and do your bidding against the Project” he tells her, “I’ll check back on you within the next couple of days”. 

The sound of his wings fluttering, making a small breeze within the house, and he disappears. Leaving Mandy in the small kitchen of her home. 

[kalemakar]

Plz dont read this its pure crack that i wrote at 1am 

Senne x Coffee (three times bc that park one was weird af senne and coffee were in love and then one time coffee died rip [omfg its 1 am go to sleep norah]) 1377 words of crack

1. 

     Senne stretched his limbs, cracking his joints and yawned loudly. He opened his eyes slowly and rubbed his eyes harshly in order to wake up. He looked over to Zoe sleeping peacefully beside him. He wanted to stay with her, he really did; but he really, really needed his wonderful, amazing, coffee. A bright grin lighted Senne’s face and he softly shoved Zoe’s head off his arm and jumped out of bed. He lightly jogged over the kitchen, still having his stupid giddy smile on his face. 

    He sees his beloved coffee maker and his cup all nice and clean. He makes his coffee as quickly as he can, excited for his morning cuppa. After 5 really really long minutes, his coffee was finally ready. He brings the coffee up to his mouth and eagerly sips it. The coffee had a crisp, bright flavor, with subtle hints of citrus and rich chocolates. The air is thick with the scent  of his coffee and it hits his nose harshly but Senne drinks in the aroma as he sips his beloved coffee. He plops down at the kitchen table and looks out the flatshare window. It was perfect; it was perfect scenery. Him with his coffee, looking out at the skyline of Antwerp, looking at the bustling street below him. He gives a small little smile and looks down at his partner in crime, the one who was always there for him; coffee. His brown, delicious, sweet, smooth, wonderful tasting coffee. 

    He hears the soft footsteps of Zoe coming up behind him. She looked at him and titled her lips, softly smiling. She sat on Senne’s lap, cuddling him, as they both looked out at the streets of Antwerp with his coffee in one hand and Senne thought, “I don’t need anything else.”

2. 

    Senne slammed his head against the kitchen table in frustration after reading a passage from his physics book once more (mi in physics that bitch). He groaned, both in mental and physical pain and felt like tearing his hair out because of how confused he was. The afternoon light came through the windows, lighting up his physics assignment, reminding him that he had to finish all of it today. 

    “Frick it” he thought as he got up and went to the coffee machine. If he was going to suffer through his physics assignment, then he should have some company of some sort. As he makes his coffee he looks at his physics in contemplation. He had an idea of what he was supposed to do, but whatever he did, it just didn't make sense. 

    His coffee was made and he slipped in delicately. He sighed happily and closed his eyes. ‘Yes this was he needed.’

    Just then, he heard Robbe and Sander crashing through the flat and making their way to the kitchen. The two were exchanging kisses and dragging the other along. They finally reached the fridge where Sander put Robbe on the counter and opened the fridge to get some snacks. The two were giggling and cuddling and kissing the other every five seconds. 

    Senne put the coffee down with tight pursed lips. “Oh my fricking god these gay biotches are ruining my coffee and me time”

    Senne loves his adopted son, he really does. But right now he was interrupting Senne’s and his coffee me time. He cleared his throat, causing both Sander and Robbe to jump and whip their heads over to the noise. Both had eyes towards him and were surprised to see him. 

    Senne asked, “Do you two mind, I’m trying to study” [and drink my fricking coffee]

    Robbe nervously giggled, “Of course Senne” and hopped off the counter and dragged Sander, who carried all of their snacks, by the sleeve of his hoodie. 

    He smiled at the two and returned to his delicious af coffee.

3.

    Zoe and Senne were cuddling and lazily making out on Zoe’s and Senne’s bed in the flatshare. The two trading kisses, cuddled up in blankets and through the silence of the flat. Both were so relaxed and happy lying peacefully together.

    That is, until Senne’s alarm went off. The loud “ring, ring” noise started Zoe so much that she flew right off the bed and the ground loudy. She groaned in pain and looked up at Senne in confusion.

    “Senne… why is your phone alarm going off”

    But Senne wasnt answering her. Instead he was getting off the bed and quickly throwing on his shirt. He looked determined; as if he had somewhere or someone or something important to get to. Senne bolts out of the room, sliding and almost crashing into the wall because of his socks on the hardwood floor. Zoe quickly gets up as well and chases after Senne to see what the big fuss was about. 

    “Senne! Where the heck are you going? Senne-”

    Zoe slows down to find Senne, making coffee. He interrupted their time together… to make coffee. Zoe clenched her fists and blew her hair out of her face all while having an angry death glare on her face. She looked back at Senne to see him with a giddy smile on his face towards the coffee maker and muttering something about his coffee. 

    Zoe rolled her eyes, but a small smile grew against her will, “Senne, did you leave our warm, comfy, bed to make coffee, that you apparently scheduled”

    Senne was startled and jumped after hearing Zoe speak. He looked sheepishly at her while rubbing the back of his head and replied “Yeah, I have to have my coffee at least five times a day or else we wouldn’t have our tight bond”

    Zoe stared. And stared. And stared. 

    “Our.. bond..?” She asked, confused. 

    Senne smiled, “Our bond”

    Zoe once again stared; but then decided, she didn't need to know more and slowly and quietly tiptoed back into her room. 

4. Oops 

    Milan, Zoe, Robbe, Sander, and Senne were having a small flat share party to celebrate everyone finishing their year of school. Sander and Senne have finished another year of college and Robbe and Zoe finished their last year of high school. They were having a few drinks and lively music playing in the background. Sander was twirling Robbe, both were looking happily at each other. Milan was jamming out to the song while swinging violently all over the kitchen. Zoe was hugging Senne and trying to convince him to put his cup of coffee down. After Zoe pulls at him and smiles and gives him convincing kisses he finally puts his coffee down on the table and puts his arms around Zoe and they sway around together with their foreheads touching. Everyone was ecstatic, joyful, and overall were having a wonderful time. 

    That changed in seconds. 

    Milan swung too much in one direction and became extremely dizzy. He bounced around the kitchen with everyone laughing. However; he landed on the counter that held Senne’s precious coffee maker and coffee. As Milan was getting up, he swiped his hands across the counter, bringing down the coffee maker and the coffee cup. 

    It was like a slow motion video. Everyone’s jaw dropped and a look of terror crossed Senne’s face. He ran after the coffee maker but it was all vain. Both the coffee cup and coffee maker smashed into the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Senne dropped onto his knees and his hands hovered shakily over the mess. He cut off a gasp by putting his hands over his mouth. Tears came to his eyes and he stared at his beloved coffee maker and the cup spilled all over the floor. He glares up at Milan, opening his mouth but nothing comes out of it. He stares back at the mess. 

    Behind Senne, Sander looked concerned and asked Robbe, “Is he okay? Should we do something?”

    “...I don't know,” Robbe replied, looking concerned for Senne as well. 

    Milan looked terrified, not really knowing what to do but slowly running out of the room away from Senne. 

    Zoe however, looked over at Senne with purse lips and a slight sympathetic look in her eyes and said, “Oh my god, Senne we can buy a new one”

    Senne tensed and then whipped his head over his shoulder and yelled, “IT'S NOT THE SAME”

In conclusion i'm a dramatic bitc 

[snxwboarder]

//Hey friends. I’m back.

I’ve got an update on the situation I talked about a few days ago. Honestly writing the post I wrote last time really helped me, so I want to do it again. Just to put my thoughts down and allow myself to process.

If you’re going to read (which you’re welcome to!) please make sure you’ve read the trigger warnings in the tags.

But, just a tldr for anyone possibly concerned about my safety: I’m at my parents place now with all 5 of my ferrets and most of my stuff. I feel safe and loved and free. Still scared. Still sad. Still hurt. But very hopeful of the future.

Here I go

Like I said in my last post, I didn’t think I was in an abusive relationship. I was struggling to see it. Even when my friends pointed out the gaslighting and the manipulation, I always had a reason for why he acted the way he did. An explanation for his actions forever engraved into my system because I have always been the one to be there to save him. To excuse him. To forgive him.

It changed last night.

Abusive relationship.

Not something I thought I was in.

Until, for the first time since my dad pushed me out of the room so he could hit my mom when I was 11 years old, my partner became physical.

My boyfriend, of 7 years, who I reassured my friends, not even half an hour earlier, would never lay a hand on me.

Got physical.

I worked a full day yesterday, left the house before he got up. I fed the ferrets before I left, giving my senior ferret her twice daily lifetime medication 2 hours earlier than I normally do because I worked the morning shift - and I knew he wouldn’t wake up to do it.

We still hadn’t talked. Not much. How many days does that make it that he hasn’t spoken to me... 5? I lost count.

Our conversations consisted of me saying “have a good day at work” and his grunt in reply. A short “I’m going to my grandma’s house” because I needed to get out. 

It wasn’t talking. Not really.

There was a time I think he wanted to talk. He came into the bedroom on the 4th night of us sleeping apart. He sat down, didn’t say much. I know he was trying to get me to ask what was wrong, if he was okay, what I could to do help him. But I didn’t say anything.

Which was.... hard.

Really hard.

I’ve spent 7 years being trained, like a collared bitch that comes to it’s masters call that when he’s upset, I find the solution. When we fight, I ask for forgiveness. When we can’t decide, I compromise. 

7 years of training. 

This time I didn’t do it though. No matter how tight he pulled the collar around my neck, the mumbled phrases he said to lure me in:

“I’m so tired...”

That’s what he said. He’s tired. 

Him.

He didn’t ask how I was, he didn’t ask what I was thinking. He just sat there. Staring down into his lap. Breathing. Waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for a fight he started, for words he said, for a relationship he molded. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the last real thing he had said to me and it still rings back and forth in my head. 

4 days he left me with that.

20 minutes, give or take, that’s how long he sat there waiting. But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to talk about the fight, I was ready to talk, but I knew it would end in a breakup right there and then at 1am. Not the ideal time. But... ideal times don’t really exist.

He left though. Wordlessly. Closing the door behind him just like the walls he always put up so that I could work to tear them down and make it right. 

The next morning I went to work.

And while I stared into our empty store, my new coworkers that I’ve only known for 2 days standing around me. I made the choice that it was over. I was done sitting here with an infected bandage waiting for it to heal itself. I wanted to rip it off. Let the air sting against the cut he had caused so it could finally get a chance to breathe. To heal.

We were done.

I came home from work with determination in my steps and the most stomach turning anxiety in my gut. 

We were done.

I entered the house. Silence. I go to his office. He’s playing fortnite. 

He doesn’t notice me at first because he’s talking to his friends. His mood is different. He’s happy, I know it. I move towards him and he recognizes that I’m there. 

“How was work?”

It was like nothing was wrong. 

I’m still confused about that part but I didn’t focus on it for too long. “Can we talk when you’re done your game?” I said. 

He agreed. I left the room to go downstairs.

I didn’t take my work uniform off thank god I didn’t take my work uniform off. My car keys were in my pocket because I didn’t stop to put them down. The ferret travel cage was in the car, not because I had it there as a “just in case” but simply because, like the keys, I had forgotten to put it away when I brought them inside after a vet appointment last week. 

I text my friends to let them know that it’s happening. I had talked to my mom on the phone on the drive home from work to give her a heads up that tomorrow they’ll probably need to get me. 

Tomorrow. I can’t believe I thought he’d let me stay the night.

He called my name when he was done the game. We never use each other’s names. Always pet names when we’re alone. So it was odd.

I went upstairs to his office and stood in the doorway.

He asked if I wanted to take a seat.

I said I did not.

The conversation that follows is not something I’m ready to fully bring myself back to, not yet, maybe not ever. I was clear in my intentions, firm with when I was leaving, and as factual as I could be. I explained what I felt he deserved to know, and allowed him to take the silences he needed to take.

A broken man sobbed in front of me, begging me to stay. Saying, for the millionth time, that he could change if I needed him to despite how I’d never seen the evidence of it. Said we could stop having sex for good. Said I was all that he had and without me he was completely alone. Said I couldn’t leave because if I did he would be by himself in a house with no one.

And then he remembered the ferrets.

“Are you taking the girls?” He asked me, breaking again in front of me.

I gave him a very clear, very hard “yes.” 

Because I was.

I was leaving him and I was taking my ferrets with me.

More so than the conversation we just had, the following 30 minutes of my life are the worst 30 minutes I’ve ever experienced. I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to remember those 30 minutes and feel at peace.

It was when the abuse turned from emotional to physical. As he fought me for my ferrets. My girls. 

My hands still hurt from where I grabbed their cage and my voice is still sore from yelling that he needed to let go.

I had my car keys in my pocket because of luck.

I had the kennel in my car because of forgetfulness. 

I grabbed all 5 of them in my arms and I ran.

I ran.

I’ve never moved so quickly with my heartbeat hammering in my ears and my chest so tight with fear and anxiety, moving completely on gut instinct above literally anything else. 

I got them into the kennel and I locked the car.

He could have the house. He could have the furniture. He could have the damage deposit and the subscriptions and the money that he owes me and my virginity that he stole and my broken beating fucking heart I don’t give a fucking shit about any of that useless garbage but he is not taking my girls. I brought them into this house because I wanted one fucking thing to keep me sane and moving and loved and I wasn’t leaving unless they were in the back of my car.

He lost his chance to say goodbye when he grabbed me.

He lost his chance to hold them one more time when he threatened to leave with them.

He lost his chance to a normal breakup when he stood by the door with rage in his eyes telling me that even though my parents were on their way to save me from the hell he trapped me in, he would not let them into his home to free me from the hold that he had so easily trapped me in.

But I stayed firm.

The keys were in my pocket.

I had my girls. 

He moved towards me and I was scared but he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and stormed out of the house.

“You’re a selfish bitch. Fuck you.”

That’s the last thing he said.

And I sobbed in the doorway of my front door until my throat was raw and I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed because of how long I had been trapped. Because of the lies he told me. Because of how many times he said he’d change and never did. Because of all of the signs I missed. Because of all of the excuses I gave. Because of all the fighting and the compromising and the unhappiness. I sobbed because I was so relieved but so fucking terrified about everything that this changes and everything that this puts to an end. I just sobbed.

I don’t know when my step dad showed up but I assume he found me in the doorway shaking with my knees to my chest and my heart broken on the floor.

He held me for longer than he ever has. I don’t know what I said to him. I think I told him about the ferrets but I probably just kept mumbling “they’re in the car they’re in the car the girls are in the car” hoping he’d understand. I think he did. I don’t know.

My mom and brother were there in her van moments later and we packed.

Everything we could fit between 3 cars we packed. We started with the important stuff: my computer, the ferret cage, my sewing machine. We sacrificed the stuff that I didn’t have room for: my cosplay gear, half of my clothes, my fish tank (which breaks my fucking heart all over again please just take care of my fish I told them I was so sorry when we left but I just couldn’t take them). 

It’s hard.

To watch the home you had just finished setting up be torn apart so quickly because you aren’t sure when he’s coming back to demand that you stay.

It’s hard.

But we did it.

My mom, my brother, my step dad, and me. We tore the home apart and I got my stuff. 

I sobbed the whole drive away from that house. My brother drove with me, which I will never stop being thankful for. I sobbed because I was scared, still am, that my ex was going to kill himself. I was worried that that’s why he left. My eyes were on the highway and my heart was being left in broken pieces along the side of the road with each kilometre we drove. 

And then I stopped crying.

About half of the way to my parent’s house.

Just.... stopped crying.

My brother and I talked about anime, one of our shared interests. He just finished watching SK8 with his wife and we were talking about our favourite parts, agreeing that Langa was best boy, making jokes about the silly bits and discussing our favourite scenes. Just talked with my brother about anime.

So I’m here now. In almost the same position I was in when I made a post like this last week, rethinking all of the reasons I had to leave. I’m at the kitchen table. I have a cup of tea that’s 3/4 full and completely cold because this post distracted me. I’ve been crying. A lot. My eyes are constantly puffy and red.

But about 30 minutes ago I went to walmart. 

Stupid thing to give you hope, I suppose, a trip to walmart. I needed to get a sheet for my new bed though and I didn’t want to put it off. 

A solo trip to walmart.

The same walmart that, exactly 1 week ago almost on the hour, I had been in with my ex (”ex” still feels odd to say). We had stopped by to get groceries after a couples counselling session. He was in a bad mood. We argued. In the car I apologized and he did not. 1 week ago I hadn’t realized everything wrong with us. 1 week ago I cried by the george t-shirts because he left me there in a rage after I said we needed to cross the store to get duct tape. 1 week ago I went to the mcdonalds in that walmart to get us burgers and the boy at the till was cute. 1 week ago I slipped into a 15 second daydream where I was with someone I found attractive. 1 week ago I felt guilty for the thought. 1 week ago I was just as brave as I was yesterday, but I didn’t know it yet.

I’m with my mom. I’m with my step dad. I’m with my ferrets.

I’m safe. I’m home. 

When I sat at the red light on the way home from walmart, I felt the relief my mom had told me about 5 days ago. Not the wave that she described, nothing that “washed over me” like she had told me it did when she left my dad; but just a spark. A tiny little glimmer of “this is what’s right”, “this is what’s good”, “this is what’s better”. 

My throat is still sore. My hands are still numb. And my heart still aches. But those pains go away eventually.

He goes away eventually.

[violetmessages]

creator appreciation tag

tagged by @someawkwardprose, thank you ruairidh <3

RULES: It’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

fool's gold, 32,859: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written (along with @princess-of-the-worlds) and I’m so so proud of it - it took months and we literally put our hearts and souls into working on this. We went into more detail about why we wrote this fic in the beginning notes but it was a really amazing experience to get to write/learn about my own culture. 

the hands on the clock keep ticking, 10,235: this was first fic I wrote explicitly about Gwen and Ianto friendship which made me dive headfirst into my Gwen Ianto friendship bullshit. I wrote it in a span of two days between the hours of 1am and 5am, and I think it was the first fic I was truly proud of. Maybe one day I’ll finally finish the coda/sequel to it. 

Parallel Equilibrium, 11549: my first casefic! I made up a scenario in my head one day and then I took about two weeks to finish it. I needed like three drafts and about a million edits but I’m really happy with the way it came out. 

forever, and what comes after, 10,028: another casefic, this time set in my coe fix it series: These Happy Days. Again, needed many edits but I’m so happy with the finished result (thank you cj and nik skjdfd)

sink your feet into the mud (and I'll return, 3,404: wrote it at 12am for a halloween fest on the night before halloween, I really like the way I’ve written it. It’s a coe fix it with Gwen and Ianto friendship (obviously) and I think it came out quite well. 

bonus fic (because I have to plug this one at some point): Derailed, 16,386, WIP, but I’m hoping to have the last chapter out soon: I think this is the second fic I ever wrote, and it’s very different from my other fics (it’s a complete au) and although it’s not done yet, I am so close to finishing!

cool well thank you for tagging me ruairidh, tagging @princess-of-the-worlds, @thirteeninafez, @iianto-jones, @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe, but absolutely no pressure, don’t bother doing it if you don’t want to! 

[privateerstudies]

Thank you for the tag @little-ligi!!!

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. tonight isn’t a rarity (but he’ll be fine) 1.3k, The Musketeers fic

I’m really proud of this; it’s the first long(ish, not really that long, but it feels that way to me!) thing I wrote and put out into the world. I also wrote like the first half at 1am and usually my writing then makes no sense so?? this made me happy!

2. safe and warm (and he thinks he understands)  2.1 k, The Musketeers fic

This is the longest thing I’ve written I think ever (aside from essays) and I just kind of adore it because of that!!!

3. A cross stitch of a name!! I can’t link it unforch, but it was really cool and fun to do!! For my alt 3, because I can’t link the cross stitch, I’m going with this prompt fill, because I actually really think it’s super in character and I kind of love it.

4. This prompt fill, because it was really really smooth to write (even though it also was painful because. angst.) and I just think it went well?

5. ..okay this is breaking the rules because I can’t link it but a super self-indulgent edit I started planning that I am so excited to finish and put out there in 2021.

Alrighty! uhm. @sternenblumen @ivory--and--gold @enigma-the-mysterious @talvenhenki (please don’t feel any obligation, also sorry if you’ve been tagged in this before)