#It would fit with like this one fanfic I once read I'll find it later but the idea was that Emilie and Nathalie had been planning

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I've just seen a post pointing out that Emilie referred to Adrien as "our little prince" TO NATHALIE and I can't believe I didn't pick up on this like what????? Does this mean????????

[forsssnaken]

Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

Important note: I am no longer writing stuff like this. It was a nice way for me to be happy while in a rather precarious mental state, but I no longer enjoy it all the same way I once did. I'm keeping it up as it was a gift, and there are still people who may enjoy it, but I am unhappy with my writing how it was in this fic, and I don't enjoy writing this stuff anymore. I still write good omens fanfics now, if you want to give me a chance there.

THIS. IS. A. TICKLING. FIC. COMPLETELY. SFW.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

|

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A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

[triptychgrip]

Fanfic Rec: What if we'd seen Akito in therapy, post-curse break?

For the second time in just a week, Fruits Basket fanfic has utterly ruined me, in the very best way. For the Fruits Basket Monday prompt 'What If', I wanted to share a rec for the amazing story 'I can barely breathe' by @renywrites, which is a masterful 15K story that details the messiness and loneliness marking Akito's journey of atonement and healing after the zodiac curse break.

Note: in this fic, Akito uses they/them pronouns, which is what I'll be using as well, out of respect for the author's vision

Akito is obviously a very, very polarizing character in the fandom, and I'll be honest that they are not someone that I usually seek out reading material for. But as I detailed in my post on the dangers of individualizing systemic abuse, healing for the Sohmas doesn't begin and end with Akito, because they, too, are a victim in the multi-generational cycle of trauma that has plagued the Sohma family. Given the vastness of this cycle and the many people that enabled it to continue over time, I've always wished we could have seen more content in the manga (and more explicitly in Fruits Basket Another) that touches directly on what the challenges would have been when the various members of the Sohma family have to pick up the pieces of their lives after the curse breaks.

'I can barely breathe' does this so poignantly by focusing on Akito and Shigure, in particular. Below is an excerpt of one of my favorite parts, from chapter 2. I hope you'll give it a chance!

----

Akito starts to panic once the sun begins to set. They’d gone through their entire “toolbox”, as Itsuki would call it. They’d done every distraction in the book to take their mind off of it, and after all of that, they still hadn’t heard anything.

They consider calling Hatori to see if he’d heard anything, but if Shigure truly was mad at them and they pulled strings through Hatori to get him home, he'd be furious. Besides, Hatori would definitely chew him out for blocking them.

But the later it gets, the more Akito’s worry turns to anxiety, and anxiety turns to panic. They start to think about what he’d said the night before. Had he really gone home with a stranger?

The thought alone makes them ill, makes their heart race and palms sweat. He’d slept with their mother to get back at them, once upon a time. That thought doesn’t help any, and their imagination runs wild.

Akito lays in bed, mind racing through all the possibilities. What if he had gone home with a girl? What if he preferred that over coming home to Akito? And if that was the case, was she something better?

(Of course. Everyone was better than Akito.)

Was she pretty? Akito thinks of long, silky hair, and curves that could never be mistaken for a man’s body. They curl tighter into themself, burying their face in the pillow, hiding from the thought of Shigure undressing said curves.

(Their mother looked like a proper woman. Shigure had once said, in a fit of cruelty, that their mother looked like everything Akito could never be. Beautiful, tall, curvy. Akito had always wondered if he wished they looked different. If he wished they could be beautiful, too.)

Once the thoughts start they don’t stop. Soon Akito is stuck in a whirlpool, convinced that he had left for good, that they were now truly all alone. The bed becomes too confining, and they find themself on the bathroom floor, fighting to breathe, the tile cold against their skin.

They wanted it to stop. They didn’t want to feel this way anymore! Itsuki had said it would get better, but when? When would they feel better? When would they be good enough? When would their efforts to be a better person pay off?

Yuki had been right. Shigure deserved so much better. Everyone did, really. Akito tangles a hand in their hair, holding hard and hiccupping. They weren’t god anymore. They weren’t anything anymore. When had they become so small? Had they ever been big in the first place?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello dear! It's been a long time :)

I've read some of your Mandela Catalog fanfics and they are amazing!

I would like to make a request, how about the Reader (who was a friend of the Murray's and took care of Adam after the divorce as Lynn didn't have much time to spend with him) take custody of him after his parents died?

Adam at least grew up with someone :) and the Reader always sang songs when he got sad about his parents...

But the events are the same as the Mandela Catalog (Volume 1 and 2 etc.)

In the meantime, the Reader ends up dying for an Alternative, after months of the Reader's death, the events of volume 2 happen and then the events of Mandela Catalyst happen.

Basically, Thatcher finds Adam singing one of the songs that the Reader sang to him to calm him down, but since it's not the Reader singing...he can't calm down at all .

Just Angst in general...sorry :)

Oh boy this one hurt a LOT to write. Strap in and be ready for (several) different timeskips (and a whole lot of angst)

.........

--September 1992--

"Hey, [y/n]. I'm so sorry to bother you, but-"

"It's okay. What's up? Do you need me to watch him for a bit?"

"...I actually needed to talk to you about something important, but he hasn't stopped crying, and...shit...I-I just need a little bit of help if that's alright. I can't calm him down."

Hearing Lynn's exhausted sigh over the phone, you frowned slightly. It especially pained your heart to hear her son's wailing in the background, yet you realized she called you around this specific hour last time..with the exact same problem.

It was strange, honestly.

You would've thought she'd figured out what was going on with Adam by now.

"Wasn't Jude there earlier? Don't tell me he bailed and that's why he's-"

"No. He actually showed up this time and watched him while I was in a meeting. Everything was fine..a-and Adam didn't make any fuss when he left. But now he just started up the waterworks again and...god, I don't know what to do anymore.."

"Well you tell the little guy to hang tight, okay?" You reassured her as you grabbed your keys, jacket, and shoes. "I'm on my way over."

"Thank you so much, [y/n]..I'm sorry about this-"

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'll see you in a few."

"Alright, see you soon."

After hanging up the phone, you headed out the door and got into your vehicle, driving to the Murray's residence.

You've been close friends with Jude and Lynn, having supported them through nearly every milestone of their relationship: when they had their son, when they got married, and....when they unfortunately went through a divorce two years later.

To this day, you still weren't sure what caused their relationship to crash and burn. They were highschool sweethearts who hoped to move into the big city and have kids--the kind of dream any couple would wanna live out.

But then they became incredibly stressed over raising just one child alone, and thought rushing into marriage would resolve things quickly.

Instead, it only caused more friction between them.

Regardless, you still wanted to help them out. So you've offered to watch Adam for a few hours while Lynn went to work, or if she just needed to get out of the house and take a breather.

He's a good kid...aside from being either quiet or having huge crying fits with consistent patterns to them. You suspected he saw something scary and violent on television once and hasn't recovered since.

Lynn mentioned a toddler stress assessment he took, showing his scores ranging from low to zero, indicating he didn't respond to the stimuli properly. She would have been more concerned if other children his age didn't share similar results, all apparently due to them being witnesses to a "phenomena".

Whatever it was, it must've been traumatic enough for him to have these meltdowns seemingly out of the blue.

But you always succeeded at calming him down. Lynn mom had yet to see your methods, though she's convinced you're some kind of "miracle worker", doing a better job at parenting than she or Jude could.

Fortunately, she was going to find out today.

You arrived at the house, exchanging sympathetic smiles with the exhausted mother before she led you to Adam's room. There, he was in the corner bawling his eyes out.

"Adam, sweetie? Someone's here to see you." She cooed, but to no avail as he didn't even look up at her. Sighing in defeat, she stepped aside when you reassured her you'll handle it.

"Hey, buddy. It's me again." You spoke softly, kneeling down on the floor in front of Adam. For a moment, he fell silent and glanced up at you, hiccupping on occasion.

But when you opened your arms up to him, he started crying even louder and clung to you tightly. "Oh it's okay, kiddo. Shhh, I'm here." You hushed, holding him as you stood back up. "[Y/n]'s here now."

He could only blubber your name in response, snot and tears dribbling down his face as he nuzzled into your shoulder. You rubbed his back, wishing you could take away whatever made him this upset.

Since that wasn't possible, you did the only thing you could do in that moment.

And that was sing.

More specifically, sing a song you heard on the radio earlier today. It's one of your favorites, which always helps you calm down after a stressful day; surely it'll help Adam in his case, too.

Although your voice was soft and quiet, it managed to reach his ears as you sang to him, and eventually it worked its magic. His sobs died into sniffles, and then sniffles into silence.

You smiled. "Did you like that one? That's one of my favorites."

He nodded, now resting his head on your shoulder and closing his puffy eyes as you kept rubbing his back, humming softly. Before you knew it, he was fast asleep.

"....are you serious? I've tried singing to him and it does nothing!" Lynn whispered, astonished you were able to resolve that in a minute, when usually it took her an hour.

"Sorry, I guess he likes my voice better." You chuckled lightly, before your eyes shifted around the room. "Where do you want him? The crib as usual?"

"...as usual. I know he's supposed to be grown out of it, but he refuses to sleep anywhere else."

"It'll happen eventually, I'm sure." You set Adam down, making sure the pillow was comfortably underneath his head. Then you turned back to Lynn. "So...you wanted to talk about something?"

"It's..on the kitchen table." She muttered, confusing you as she turned and walked out the room.

You followed her to the aforementioned section of the house, noticing documents on the table. One mentioned child custody, which was signed by her and Jude...but also had a third blank line on it as well.

"Jude and I had a long talk, and...we both decided that if, god forbid, anything should happen to us and we can't be here to take care of Adam...we'd make you his legal guardian." She explained. "I know it's a lot to ask of you right now and I doubt we'll even need this, but-"

"I'll sign it."

She blinked. "R-Really? I mean..there's no rush. If you need time to think about it-"

"My mind's been made up. With those broadcasts having everyone on edge, it's better to be safe than sorry. But I hope it won't come to that." You picked up the pen, clicking it as you sat down to read the document. "I just sign here? Do I have to go to the court?"

"No, you can just sign it and I'll bring it to them tomorrow." She swallowed the lump in her throat, choking back tears of relief. "I-I just want Adam to grow up in a better place and..we trust that you can do that should it be necessary."

Nodding in understanding, you signed the paper, slipping it back into the folder before you gave Lynn a hug. "If this helps you guys out, then it's fine with me. Does Adam know?"

"W-We're gonna tell him about it, soon. But..thank you so, so much, [y/n]. This means a lot to us."

"Of course, I'm here for you and him till the very end."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

--One Week Later--

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Lynn? Are you alright? I was driving by and noticed your door was wide open."

"......"

"Lynn? Jude? You guys here?"

"........"

"....Adam?"

"........"

"Anybody home at all? Hello?"

"........."

"C'mon, this isn't.....wha....o-oh my god. LYNN!! No, no, no, no, no!! What the fuck?!! Why would you...y-you....?! Oh Christ, I'm gonna be sick....I need to call 911-"

"[Y/n]? Where's momma...?"

"A-Adam! Don't go in there. Thank god you're okay, but wha...what are you doing out here by yourself??"

"...looking for my new friend."

"Huh? But..sweetheart, there's no one here but us."

"Not even momma?"

"N-No. She's..gone away for a while. And dad, too. But do you remember that talk we had about me looking after you?"

"Mhm."

"Well, that...starts now. I'll be taking care of you for a little while, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, good..now let's go home."

--January 2002--

It's been 10 years since the worst night of your life, as well as Adam's.

You lost two of your best friends, and he lost his family.

The sight of Lynn's hanging corpse was forever burned into your mind, and you were still unsure of Jude's whereabouts to this very day. He was never found by the police..although you felt like they were too scared to investigate further and give victims like yourself the proper justice.

Nevertheless, you had a promise to keep. And so you've done your best to raise Adam as his legal guardian. Signing those documents all those years ago certainly streamlined the process of you gaining custody over him, and he didn't protest over it.

You never did tell him what actually happened that night. You don't think you'll ever be able to.

All you said was that you found him alone in that house and took him with you, clueless as to where his parents are. It was only partially a lie, yet you still felt guilty.

You tried giving him a normal life away from Mandela County, as it was simply too dangerous to live there. He grew out of the unusual behavioral patterns of his toddler years, thank goodness, and continued being a generally good kid.

In school, he took up a hobby in filmmaking, while also gaining interest in ghost-hunting shows and other subjects related to paranormal activity, including online forums discussing Alternates.

Although concerned about this interest he's been pursuing, you supported his passions.

After turning 14, he reached that "teen angst" state of his life where he was going through lots of changes and constantly flipping moods like a light switch.

And when you picked him up from school today, that bad attitude reared its ugly head for you to see.

He didn't greet you after getting in the car, keeping his headphones on as he stared outside the window, seething red. You did notice a small group of jocks, one of whom seemed to have a nosebleed while the rest scowled at your son, only to see you were staring at them too. They quickly scampered back onto the campus grounds.

But what you didn't notice was Adam rolling down his sleeves to hide his bruised knuckles.

As soon as you both got home, he threw his backpack onto the nearest table and stormed off to his room without speaking a single word to you.

Now any other parent wouldn't have tolerated his disrespect. But rather than chastise him when you knew he was already feeling shitty, you calmly walked towards his bedroom door.

It was partially open, though you gently knocked just to be polite. "Hey, kid..may I come in?"

"....sure. Whatever."

You pushed the door open more, entering to find Adam curled up on his bed, staring down at his music player as he shuffled through some songs. "Glad to see you're using the MP3 I got you for Christmas."

He didn't respond to that, instead burying his face into his knees and keeping his hood drawn over his head.

You sat beside him, knowing that you'd have to choose your next words very carefully from here on out. 'Wish there was some guidebook on caring for a grumpy teenage boy..but I'll have to figure this one out myself..'

"So..what're you listening to?" You asked, hoping to start up some kind of conversation.

"...if you care so much..it's Radiohead." His voice was slightly muffled, but you understood him as your eyes lit up.

"Oh! I love that band."

"You do?"

"Of course! You think I'm too old to enjoy it?" You feigned hurt, although when you heard him sniffle quietly, you sighed and rested a hand on his back. "Look, I noticed those kids staring when I picked you up. They look like the same jerks I used to meet in school. Did...they say anything to you?"

For a few long moments, he was silent, but eventually answered.

"They called me an orphan, so I punched one of them."

Your heart sunk. "Wha--Adam, you gotta be more careful. You could've gotten hurt or expelled-"

"So what? I'm supposed to just take it?" He glared up at you, his eyes red and watery. "I can't defend myself?"

"...that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that there's other ways we can deal with them without violence. But I agree that what they said was wrong." Frowning, you gently brushed his curly bangs to the side. "They shouldn't be using orphan as an insult."

"Yeah. They think both my parents are dead, but they're liars. My mom's still out there, and if she comes back we can prove them wrong."

Ah.

You could feel this familiar conversation starting up again, but this time you weren't sure if Adam was going to be placated by your answer anymore. The more he pressed about it, the more he got suspicious and tired of the same excuses.

"....are we ever gonna go back to Mandela and try to find her, [y/n]?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, Adam. But you know we can't. I...have no clue where we'd even start."

"Then why doesn't she try to find us, instead? She must have escaped those things by now..unless she gave up on me."

"Wha--" You blinked, having no idea how he could've drawn that conclusion so quickly. "What made you think-?"

"I-I mean..it makes sense, right? It's been ten damn years and she hasn't tried looking for us once?" He started getting agitated, taking off his headphones as they no longer comforted him. "Maybe she wanted me out of her life for good. I mean...I'm the reason her and dad divorced."

"Adam, their divorce wasn't your fault at all. I knew your mom for a long time, and she loved you a lot-"

"Then why does it feel like she abandoned me?!!" He snapped, throwing his music devices onto the mattress before scowling at you. "Just tell me the truth, [y/n]!! I can take it. If she said I was a burden, then fucking TELL ME!!"

You took your hand off his back the moment he started shouting, feeling yourself tensing up.

The one thing you hoped not to do was make him angry, and yet here he was...lashing out. But you tried not to take it too personally and stayed quiet.

Not long after his explosion, Adam saw the look on your face and instantly felt remorseful for snapping like that. His face began burning with embarrassment as he looked away, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"..I'm sorry, I...I just-"

"I know you didn't mean it. It's alright." You carefully wrapped your arm around him, bringing him closer to you. "But you were never a burden to her. That's the truth. She loved you and wanted you to have a better life..one that she couldn't provide. I know you don't understand everything right now, but one day it's all gonna make sense. I can promise you that, son."

He sniffled and tucked his face between your neck and shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs as he mumbled about still missing her so badly. You held him even closer, feeling the poor kid shaking in your arms.

Luckily, you knew exactly how to remedy this situation.

"Adam?"

"Y..yeah?"

"...do you want me to sing to you like I did before? I know you got your music player, but..my voice might help you feel a little better."

For a moment he was quiet, but you felt him nod against your neck. You smiled and kissed the top of his hood, before quietly singing one of his favorite songs:

"Such a pretty house, and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises. No alarms and no surprises...."

He closed his eyes as he listened to your soft voice, tears dampening the collar of your shirt. He felt like he did nothing to deserve you or all of this love after the way he acted earlier.

You could've left him alone, or got angry right back at him.

But you didn't.

You never stopped being there for him.

After Adam calmed down a few minutes later, you let him go and saw him wipe at his face with his sleeve. While still embarrassed to be seen like this, he did feel a lot better. "Y-You...still got it." He chuckled. "You ever think about becoming a singer? Like in a band or something?"

"In my dreams, yeah. But I told ya I'm a big Radiohead fan." You smirked.

"Alright, alright..I guess you're not too "old" to like it." He rolled his eyes, but eventually leaned back onto your shoulder, relaxing. "Thanks again, [y/n]. I-I..really needed that."

"Anytime." You gently hugged him to you. "I'm here whenever you need me, son. I promise we'll go back to Mandela when it's safer."

"Together?"

"Together."

--September 2008--

You couldn't believe it.

You couldn't.

Fucking.

Believe it.

Adam went behind your back and did exactly what you told him not to do.

He left for to Mandela County in the middle of the night, taking a stolen car. Although he did leave you a note saying he was going on a "BPS mission" with Jonah and promised to be back in several days, you were still quite infuriated.

Especially since you've been meaning to talk to him about this little "group" of his.

All this time, you thought it was just some afterschool club he attended that helped him make friends and even find a girlfriend. He told you all they did was chat about ghosts and research paranormal stuff and nothing more.

But he's been using it as a cover-up to hunt down the Alternates who ruined so many lives, breaking several laws while doing so.

You only learned about all this through Evelin, who called your cell phone just a few minutes ago. The poor girl was in tears, explaining that she and Adam had a huge fight, and apparently he told her some....very hurtful things.

Things you'd never believe would come out of your son's mouth.

You didn't raise him this way at all.

You raised him to be a better person, not a rebel who thinks he can talk to girls with such disrespect and run away from home.

Why would he do this all of the sudden?

Did he just get too impatient?

Did he not trust you anymore?

What ever happened to the promise that you'll go to Mandela together?

Regardless, you apologized to Evelin for Adam's behavior before hanging up. Then you called his number, and he surprisingly answered within the first ring.

Usually it took three.

"Hey, [y/n]. What's up?"

""What's up?"" You mimicked, already growing annoyed. ""What's up" is that your girlfriend called me and said you insulted her. All because she didn't like these little "ghost hunts" you've been doing??"

"Oh fuck, did she really tell you about all our problems?" He groaned. "Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I swear. We had a petty argument and she freaked out on ME, and then I got a little defensive. That's all."

"...a "little"? You made her cry, Adam. I had to help her calm down before she could even talk to me."

"....well it's not my fault if she's too damn sensitive."

You couldn't believe how heartless he sounded, but you didn't wanna stay on this topic forever.

So you sighed, sitting down on the sofa as you wondered how you can convince him to stop these ridiculous "hunts". "Listen, son. I just think this is consuming your life too much-"

"But this IS my life, [y/n]! Jonah and I have been making some serious bank from this! Believe it or not, paranormal investigating IS a real job-"

"But it's not a safe one." You interrupted. "I know how badly you want closure on your mother, but those things won't give you any answers. They're only going to kill you if-"

"I stared at one dead in the face and it didn't attack me."

You froze, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. "...what?"

"Yeah! I found out I'm sorta "immune" to M.A.D or whatever, and I have footage of it!" He bragged. "It didn't hurt me at all. We had a pretty funny staring contest. I can send you proof of it so you don't have to worry about me."

"....I don't want "proof", Adam. I want you to come home."

"....not until I find out the truth for myself." Suddenly his tone turned spiteful. "Unless you know something that I don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a dumb kid anymore, [y/n]. If there's something YOU knew about that night that you didn't wanna tell me before...now's the time."

For a few long moments, you were silent as you thought over his words, although his snarky response made your blood boil even more.

At this point you were fed up you were with him sneaking behind your back like this and breaking his promise. You only sheltered the truth of that night from him for this long because you knew how deeply it would hurt him.

But now he was practically goading you into laying it all out.

Maybe that's what you should do. Just to finally put this to rest and make him give up on these stupid "investigations". He was searching for someone who wasn't even alive anymore.

He may hate you, but if this is what he wanted...it's what he'll get.

"I'm sorry, Adam. But-"

All of the sudden, a loud sound akin to static noise crackled right into your eardrum, causing you to flinch and hold the phone far away from you.

Only then did you notice an unknown caller ID had popped up, the ringtone playing normally. You declined it and tried calling Adam back, but the same mysterious number showed up again before you could even dial anything.

You had no choice but to answer the stranger.

"Hello? Yes?"

"This is no longer your place to spill secrets, I'm afraid." A male's voice, staticky and coarse, droned in your ear. "Only I will reveal everything to our prophet soon enough."

"....your prophet? Who the hell is this?" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I think you got the wrong number. I don't know any "prophet". Goodbye."

Hanging up, you hoped to put an end to that discussion and reach out to Adam once more-

"Of course you do, [y/n]. He's the son you've taken under your wing."

Every muscle in your body tensed.

The same voice was now inside your own home.

Your eyes searched the living room until you noticed the TV flickering to life, the screen displaying a hooded man with a face that looked as if it were melting.

"How do you know about him?" You scowled. "Don't tell me...you're the creep who kidnapped all those kids back in-"

"You played right into our hands. You've passed our test. I must say you've raised him well..keeping him in the dark about his truth." The Intruder taunted. "But it's time you open your eyes and recognize the favor you've done for us."

"...what favor? What does any of this have to do with Adam?!"

"From the moment you saw that boy's poor mother...he ceased to exist, too. I had taken him only for a moment, and gave you back something you promised to protect. But you've been living a lie, [y/n]. Your "son" was never actually him."

"You mean to tell me he's......?" Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing what he was implying. But you clenched your fists. "N-No. You're lying."

"You had already failed them before you even realized it." The TV glitched to show the shadow of a certain woman with her neck broken, before displaying an image of the Murray house, before it reverted back to the Intruder's face. "You could've joined them, but we wanted to see how he'd grow under your watchful eye. Now thanks to you, we know we can blend into mankind and watch it rot from the inside out. And soon we'll awaken him, too, and rejoice."

"I don't believe you." You tried keeping your voice steady and calm, knowing he was attempting to inflict M.A.D on you. "If you think he's going to be anything like you freaks...you're dead wrong."

"Oh, but he will. He must. It's his fate."

"If he's one of you, then why would he care for the real Adam's mother like she was his?! And on that note...was hanging her just your little "distraction" so you could-?!"

"You accuse me as if I pulled the rope." He scoffed. "But I didn't. She just lost all hope and faith in finding him. That poor mother, too distraught at the sight of her missing infant---distraught at the sight of her missing infant, missing infant, missing infantmissinginfantMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSING...."

His voice suddenly began repeating on a loop, corrupted messages and symbols covering the screen. Through it all, you were still able to make out his haunting gaze and widening grin.

The only way he disappeared was when you grabbed a nearby chair and smashed the glass with it, shattering the screen to pieces. Electric sparks and smoke sputtered out of the TV, but besides that...it was finally silent again.

You huffed and took several steps back.

Yet you had little time to fully process everything he told you as your phone rang again. You hesitantly checked it, only to become relieved at seeing's Adam's number and quickly answered it.

"A-Adam! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um..are you? What happened? You just hung up on me.." He sounded rather concerned.

"I didn't mean to. S-Something must've disconnected our call.." You scrambled to grab your keys, convinced he was in danger.

'Damnit, I swore I was gonna stay away from Mandela, but if he's still there....and HE knows about him-.'

However before you could get your shoes, you stopped and felt a sudden chill run up your spine.

One that left you with the feeling that you weren't alone anymore.

Your gaze slowly went to the front door, where a tall humanoid figure lurked in the nearest corner. It was overtaken by a huge shadow, although the whites of its elongated eyes were still visible, staring back at you.

Adam's concerned "hellos" on the other end fell on deaf ears as you watched the creature limp out from the darkness, revealing itself to be the most horrifying attempt at human mimicry possible.

The worst part?

It looked just like you.

"I'm here whenever you need me, son." It echoed your voice, stalking towards you and forcing you away from the front door, back into the kitchen area. "Something must've disconnected our call-l-l!"

"Who the hell was that? What's going on?!"

Finally hearing your son again, you swallowed back tears as you shakily reached for a large knife, keeping the phone in a tight grip.

This was it for you.

You've just been a pawn in their plans all along.

The Intruder had intentions to kill you with M.A.D by revealing you've basically raised an Alternate for them, and if that despair alone didn't end your life.....then this beast that somehow got inside your home will surely finish the job.

But screw that. Screw all of them.

You'll fight till your last breath if you must.

Your only regret is leaving Adam all alone when he's already lost so much in his life...but you didn't want him to think you resented him.

"I-I have to go. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh back there. I just want you to make the right choices. But if this BPS stuff makes you happy, then..keep doing what you're doing. Just be careful, okay?"

"Uh, sure. But why are you talking like that, [y/n]??" His voice was growing more worrisome. "Look, I'm sorry. I-I swear I'll come back home soon-"

"Don't worry about me...I'll be okay." You smiled shakily, not taking your eyes off the creature closing in. "Just take care of yourself out there. This world's cruel, but I know you'll kick it in the ass."

"Just wait a damn second! Don't g-!"

"Goodbye, my son. I love you."

You ended the call, dropping the phone to the ground and holding the knife with both hands, finally ready to accept your fate.

The Alternate howled with laughter, before it lunged at you with its claws and jaws wide open.

"GOODBYE-E-E!!!!"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!"

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"Uh-oh! Bad decision, [y/n]!"

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--January 16th, 2009--

Adam staggered through the front door to his home, famished, dehydrated, exhausted....

And burdened with knowledge that made him want to die.

Only a few months ago, you disappeared after that concerning phone conversation you two exchanged. He hasn't heard your voice since, and when he returned to Werksha..you were nowhere to be found.

There was no sign of a break-in, or anything of that sort..but Adam was convinced you were taken just like his mom was--obviously by one of the Alternates.

So he went back to Mandela to continue his investigations alongside Jonah, growing desperate for answers. There had to be at least one who knew what happened to you and where you are.

His obsession with these hunts only worsened, turning him into a crueler person around those who questioned his reasons for "chasing" after Alternates. Evelin did break off the relationship for good, seeing as he was too far gone to even reason with.

He knows you would've been disappointed in him...but surely you'd understand why he'd do this. You understood him better than anyone.

You said it yourself. As long as he was careful, he can do whatever he wanted!

Yet nothing ever turned up.

Until the day he and Jonah agreed to help put a cat's spirit to rest, the "owner" offering them $500 a night if they stayed for three in total...

That investigation ended in a huge argument in which Jonah brought up your name and his mother, setting him off and indirectly causing his best friend's death.

And then he was all alone again, but acted like none of it bothered him and tried to quell BPS' online following with a memorial video.

Days later, the Intruder contacted him on his laptop and unveiled the truth about his existence--the same truth he told you before you died.

"Your skin is not your own."

"You're not the real you."

Those words were drilled into Adam's mind, and he could feel his own body going through an agonizing metamorphosis as he forced himself to drive back to Werksha one last time.

He barely was able to drag himself out of the van and through the front door.

But that's when he was greeted by a grisly sight:

Your rotting corpse slumped against the wall, a bloody knife in your palm and a deep slash wound across your throat, your clothes caked in dried blood.

You were never missing.

You died.

And whatever monster brought you back here decided to present you as some twisted "gift" for him.

Adam collapsed and screamed so loudly that it shattered the lights he turned on, deciding right there that he didn't wanna live this way anymore. He couldn't. He didn't wanna become one of them.

He wanted to join you while he still had his humanity left.

Yet despite all his attempts to end his misery, including using the same knife you used to stab himself and consuming enough bleach cleaner he found under the sink to make him vomit his guts out......nothing was working.

His body didn't fail him like he expected.

He still felt his bones breaking in all the wrong ways, and now his insides fucking burned like an inferno.

Eventually, Adam stopped and instead covered your body with his BPS hoodie, sobbing about how sorry he was for not being here for you, before he managed to crawl his way into his room--his one place of comfort.

Having no strength to climb onto the mattress, he just slumped next to his bed, leaning against the nightstand for support. He made the mistake of looking into the cracked mirror beside him...and wailed as he saw the same monster that robbed you of life staring straight back at him:

A gaunt, skinny husk of a boy with pupils of light and a horrifying facial expression that's impossible for humans to mimic.

God, he wishes he spent more time with you...had he known all of this was going to happen..

Did you know he was an Alternate? Is that why you were afraid of him coming back to Mandela?

What would you do if you found him like this?

Would you still hold him?

Would you still sing to him?

Or....

'That's it...I can sing...' He realized, slowly quieting down as he recalled all the times you sang to him whenever he was saddened in the past.

If you were able to calm him down easily, then surely he can calm himself down in a similar way in this situation. It's just his own voice this time around; it couldn't be that much different...right?

It was worth a try.

"...s-such...a...pretty house...and...and such a pretty gardennn...."

He ignored the creaking of the front door being opened, and the footsteps that echoed through the house, slowly approaching his room.

"No..alarms-s-s....and no....a-and no....!"

Suddenly Adam began hyperventilating, eyes filling with tears as he struggled to finish the line, despising the way it sounded.

It wasn't the same.

It wasn't your voice.

It was a voice that wasn't even his own. Just a broken and flawed attempt to mimic the real Adam's--the one who never even got a shot at life before it was stolen away from him.

If this didn't help him..then nothing could..

He wanted you back.

He needed your voice to sing and comfort him, just as you've done all those years ago.

He needed you.

But you're never coming back again.

Up to this point, a certain ex-lieutenant officer with a vendetta against the Alternates entered the bedroom, shining the light around until he found this kid sitting all alone and....

Singing a Radiohead song?

He realized his ears weren't deceiving him, but just as he attempted to confirm his identity-

Adam's jaw unhinged without warning, stretching to impossible proportions as he looked directly into his eyes, screaming and crying out with all the grief left in him:

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!"

[thedanniannie]

What I think Itachi's Morning Routine Would Look Like...

This is on a weekend, when he's not busting his ass at a day job

Modern AU headcanons (sfw)

He gets to luxuriate a bit today (like me. I'm writing this over a homemade mocha. And yes it's subpar but I'm pretending that it's not...)

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5:30 - Alarm is off and he's shuffling out of bed. His logic, he doesn't want to lose his sleep schedule, even on a day off.

5:40 - He changes into a grubby set of clothes and brushes his teeth almost immediately after getting out of bed.

5:45 - He prepares a quick, small breakfast (just to gain some sustanance before working out) and takes his prescriptions.

6:00 - He stretches and runs. He doesn't usually get to go out much when he's working. Maybe he can fit in some physical activities after work, but not like he can on a Saturday. He can actually enjoy a nice run for once, and while it is still cool outside.

6:45 - Itachi showers and puts on his nicer day clothes. He is normally quick and brisk with his showers during the week. But he finds himself luxuriating a bit. (NOT that he doesn't take good showers normally, Mikoto didn't raise a HEATHEN!)

7:10 - He can finally take the morning a bit slower now. He makes himself a more appropriate breakfast, bringing it to the small table by the window where he likes to eat and read. His book is already there, a bookmark indicating that it's nearing the end of its story. Maybe I can look for another book today, Itachi thought.

7:30 - Itachi finished his book. Unfortunately for him the book store doesn't open until 10, so he decides to waste some time at a café. He makes sure the kitchen is tidy before leaving the house.

8:00 - He arrives at the café with a small laptop in hand. He orders a seasonal latte and finds his spot at a table with an open outlet. Itachi decides to write until the store is open.

(Now I want an Itachi/writer au headcanon/fanfic... lemme cook on it and I'll post one later)

10:00 - Book store. He is happy. Bc the book store is open.

11:00 - Itachi may have gotten carried away with his time at the book store, and is just now arrive back home. He looks down at his phone, eager to answer the work emails that have been piling in while he was out (Mikoto wished Itachi had a better work-life balance. She reasoned with him to just have one day--Saturday--to himself. He could always answer back on Sunday. While it itched at Itachi's work ethic, he obliged to make his mother happy).

He sits back and picks one of the books from the small pile he brought back home.

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This was fun. I'm content. Also the time stamps aren't like, a "set schedule" he has. I think he's just naturally punctual without trying. I also love anytime I get to reference Itachi's love for café-hopping bc that's gawt to be the most darlin' thang about him 💖

[sunlitlemonade]

i rly love your work and it has inspired me to write!! do u have any tips on how to start and the process and other useful info i could use?

Hello! So glad to hear you like my stuff :]

And as for the specifics of writing- there are no universal methods that works for everyone as I'm sure you know. It's very much an artistic process and WILL frustrate you endlessly while giving you joy. Nonetheless, here's few things to keep in mind [in no way are the following pointers 'tips'. I myself am an amateur writer and am in no position to hand out advice. I can only tell you about the mistakes I've made so far and how you can avoid them.]

a/ Write.

An idea seems above your current skill level? Write. You won't reach that level if you don't ever write. An idea feels too lengthy? Well. You'll have to write to ever finish it. Just. Write. I feel like a lot of writers [myself included] get stuck with wanting to write but seldom doing so.

b/ Watch your tenses.

Often you'll skip around with tenses when you write. IDK how common it is but I switch between two tenses most of the times and my angel of a beta [@greeneyesandfingerstripes she's so cool, I adore her] saves my ass and my mess of a doc most days. So yeah! Make sure that's consistent. I once remember one of the best people I've gotten to know online come in and tell me how to adjust a sentence's tense to make it fit better as a flashback. Tenses are very useful in a variety of ways and once you know how to tinker with them to serve your narrative purposes better it will be so much more smooth sailing.

c/ Have fun lol

There's a lot of other stuff to keep in mind of course like where to put emphasis on words, characterisations [I will always, always suggest reading up as much of the character as possible to know them better before you write them], how to set a mood etc. But since you're starting out you should just focus on enjoying writing.

Now, re: where/how to start.... that would depend entirely on the story you want to tell bestie. Trust me, when it comes to fanfic, or at least the kind I write [since I don't do too many AUs], you will find a gap in the story that needles you into weaving a story out of it to fill that hole. Maybe it's a scene that feels incomplete or a dynamic with unrealised potential or a 'what could have been'. Best shot for this is to look at something and go 'this makes me insane'. It could be in the good or bad way. That's what will spawn a story. It could also just be something you desperately want to read but can't find. Be the change you want to see etc etc.

Maybe your prose won't flow well at first. Maybe the dialogues will be stiff & unnatural. That's okay. It's a skill like any other that'll get better as you do it more.

Finally for the process of it: there's no process. Proofread at least once. If you're stuck at some point, let it simmer in your head for a while or rant about it to a friend. 9/10 times that should give you a solution. Sometimes you'll return to a story hours, days, weeks, months, years later. That's natural. Stories take time, be patient with yourself.

Hope that's helpful! just keep in mind that I've been silly since age 4 when I imagined an entire plotline for a lengthy Barbie & Ken break up and made myself cry. I'm here today writing about brothers who love each other but simply won't admit it. That is to say, I've been making up stories before I knew what a story was and have no other way to tell you that I have been insane since day one and have no coherent process for writing/imagining stories.

I'll be happy to help out if you have anything else to ask :] <3

[easily-distracted-ivashkov]

True with Adrian's addictive personality biting can become a big thing for them. Also the fanfic that I shared the link to touched on that in their story as well lol. Either way, I don't think biting is completely off of the table for them. It would just be later in their marriage.

As sad as I am about the show getting canceled. I feel bad for the actors, they seemed to really like their characters and read the books to get a feel. Being an honest fan here, I don't feel bad for Julie Plec. She changes so much of the characters just to fit her writing and try to make it her own 🙄. As if Richelle didn't write an amazing series as is.

And my head cannon is Jared tried/continues to try to get them divorced. But got real upset when he found out that although they got married in Vegas, they went to a court house and got For Real married. Adrian Ivashkov was not here to play games about marrying Sydney 😂.

So in my head cannon I see Adrian sending those pictures to Jared who sent the divorce papers to Sydney. Having a caption under each picture he sent to Jared being like. The Golden light that comes off of Sydney in this picture, is the same Golden light I saw when we were having sex during the sun raising. Just to get under his Father in Laws skin 😂, but if anyone has better captions please share.

100% Sydney told Adrian to stop sending her dad pictures of them in bed together. And Adrian being like, I'll stop sending him pictures when he stops sending divorce papers, plus I don't remember you saying anything bad when I took those pictures Sage 😏

I think Adrian would just send it once and be done with it (unless he took some really nice artsy pictures that didn't expose much of anything) simply because he wouldn't want to expose Sydney like that because she's a lady and his wife LOL plus I think all it would take is one the get the point across to good old J. Sage.

A more pressing matter to me would be would the Alchemists ever find out about Declan. The Alchemists already see Dhampirs and Moroi as unnatural creatures but Declan? He was born from two Dhampirs out of Spirit magic. That would send every last Alchemist rolling. That's why I think Adrian and Sydney wouldn't even send him to a school like St. Vlads or anything because lord knows about any other Spirit users that could read his aura and figure him out. Those two are nothing but careful especially with their son so I would love to see that and more Declan for sure.

[sassy-assassin]

9 5 people you'd like to know better

My lovely mutual (@reikurusu) tagged me in this and it seemed a fun way to get to know each other better! I kept it at 5 people because I don't know who else to tag since I haven't been back on tumblr for very long yet and am still getting reacquainted with everything/everyone on here.

Last song: Love From The Other Side by Fall Out Boy. I just saw them in concert and this song has been stuck in my head day and night. I like it a lot, it's super catchy! Plus, the line "I'd never go, I just want to be invited" is such a banging introvert lyric.

Currently watching: I recently started watching the show From with my family, we're only on the first season still. It's very dramatic and dark, and we all like to try to guess what is really going on. We'll see how it plays out though, my sister is afraid it might go the way of Lost and get too convoluted and just overall too much. Some of the characters are kind of annoying me already, but I am mainly just watching it when my family is watching it so I'll probably stick with it as long as they are watching it.

On my own, I am watching Why Raeliana Ended Up at the Duke's Mansion and My Love Story with Yamada-kun at Lv999 on Crunchyroll, while also just randomly rewatching episodes of Moriarty the Patriot (mainly The Two Detectives Act 1 & 2 because I love watching Sherlock and William work together).

Currently reading: Uh I guess, the manga for Moriarty the Patriot since I just finished reading volume 12. I started reading the manga after I finished the anime and didn't realize at first that the English translation isn't yet caught up to where the anime ends with The Final Problem, so now I am impatiently waiting for the next few volumes that come out later in the year.

Of actual book books (I know comics/manga are real books too but it has been so long since I read an actual text-only book that wasn't for school that it is worthy of distinction here), I just finished reading A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske. It had exactly the right mix of intriguing plot and romance that I crave (I can't read much stuff with just one or the other).

Also, if we are talking currently reading then of course I am also reading a stupid amount of fanfics all at once. I am currently rereading floriography by ashrivaille because Sherlock and William solving murders together is my current favorite thing. I ship them so much it's ridiculous (also Mycroft and Albert but that's a whole other thing). I honestly have a difficult time finding actual books to read that aren't fanfiction anymore because I am so used to getting exactly what I want from a story in fanfics due to filters (praise ao3's tagging system) and already knowing the world/characters. I find it difficult to get invested in other books and often find them kind of boring, or like flat? Could just be also because without the specific tags/tropes that are used to label fics, it is harder for me to find books I would be interested in since I'm relying only on plot summary.

Current obsession: Hmm I wonder....?? Yeah, no it's pretty obvious my current obession is Moriarty the Patriot since over half of the media I'm consuming is related to it lol. It's just so satisfying watching William set up these intricate crimes/plots and Sherlock deducing the hell out of them (and also to see evil nobles get what's coming to them).

My sister showed me this scale once on Pinterest where someone had placed character pairs from "be gay do crime" to "be gay and solve crime" and Sherlock and William were in the middle lol. Whatever genre that scale is seems to be my BRAND since the "solve crime" end was Kato and Kambe from Millionaire Detective (one of my fav animes), and while I don't remember what the one originally on the "do crime" side was I feel that Rei and Kazuki from Buddy Daddies fits well there (another of my fav animes).

Wow, this got so long lol. Gonna tag some people I think it would be cool to know more about, but no pressure! Feel free to ignore it if you want :)

@demonicallysassy @hazeltea-returns-to-this-site @16ruedelaverrerie @yoddel @lillylakes

[ac3has6l00d]

Also, because I am a major simp for grelle... I will also bestow to you all my totally, very, not self insert grelle fic. I was given the prompt of hands and it took me on a ride.

This is very much a self insert because I love her so dearly, so you can change all you please as you read to fit yourself, but this was mostly for me and my queer ass heart to enjoy.

There are so many mistakes in here and I 100000% will regret posting this tomorrow morning, but I love her sm and I don't often find fanfic for her. So I have to take matters into my own grubby little hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rating: Pg-13, suggestive comments, though it is breaf

A03 Tags: Grelle Sutcliff, Established Relationship, Queer, WLW, Girls kissing, kinda a character study, Hands prompt, they're gay Harold, they're in love, me being gay for grelle, kinda-sorta reviewed by 3 cats in a trenchcoat

Word count: 1,446 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My wife’s hands are not soft, nor are they supple. She works hard which makes her skin calloused and riddled with faint scars from her tools. Her hands are not small by any means. Some may say she has “man hands”, but I disagree. Her large hands mean she can easily hold more flowers or wield her weapons with keen precision.

My hands are not soft, nor are they supple. They are dry from years of a skin condition that loves to be picky with what lotion I use. They are hardened by work and hobbies. My hands are small- the complete opposite of my wife- with two of my hands I could hold just one of hers, but I don’t mind. I quite like holding the world within my palms.

I love walking to work with her. Her strong hands and my small ones are met in matrimony as we dance along the road to the rhythm of the early morning bustle. Our morbid fascination with each other practically radiates off of us, settling into the onlookers as they watch two merry women on their way to work, happy as can be and openly loving each other. It's early enough that they see our ring fingers and smile, knowing another successful Boston marriage has gone underway. A silent win for the queers of London's underbelly.

During work, she goes off to do her own thing as I work at her desk. I get her paperwork done while she goes and does the physical work. Our agreement has been set since I started as her assistant all those years ago.

When she comes in for her break she gingerly takes my palms onto hers and she kisses my knuckles like she hadn't seen me in years. I silently laugh and shift my palms to her cheeks so I can give her a quick peck before we go to our lunch. Her hands fully engulf mine as she rests her sweet palms over my hands so she can caress them. She always does this when we are at work, yet I can still feel the butterflies in my heart as if it was the first time.

When we go to lunch, we chose the same cafe, the same booth, and the same meals. We like this tradition. While others may make it seem odd, what makes every experience there different is her. Every day she has a new story to tell me, and every day I listen with our hands held firmly together as we sit across from one another.

After lunch we go back to work, she lingers for a few moments to give me soft pecks across my face. She doesn't want to leave me until we must go home, she never does. I try to join her, and she refuses, "our agreement" she would croak.

I yearn to go out into the field to be with her. I miss the days where the both of us could work together. My bastard Excalibur hangs at my side, crying for the day I can draw it to use. "My love, I have yet to reap this week, I don't want you to overwork yourself. Please, just take a moment, I'll take over for you," I flirt. She takes a moment before she reluctantly nods. Sooner or later she always agrees to let me reap once or twice within the week. She lets our agreement slide and we work side by side on the more unruly end of her list.

Once our days have come to a close, we bid our adues to our co-workers who are stuck there for a little longer. We once again walk home hand and hand- the same path we took in the morning is now littered with Creatures of the night. I gaze lovingly at my wife as she drags me home, she is focused so sternly on getting us home safe that she seems to ignore me.

"My love, do I ever tell you how beautiful you are in the moonlight" I silently mumble to her as she fiddles with our house keys.

She smiles softly and pecks my knuckles as she opens the door finally, "You often do, my sweet, do you mind telling me more?"

I slip into our home with her still in toe and nod, "you also look beautiful in the candlelight, my love," She nods and wraps her arms around my waist once we reach the centre of the sitting room, silently trying to coax me out of talking about her, but I know better, "your nimble fingers and sharp tongue cannot get you out of this," I rest my palms on her arms and look back to her.

She gazes lovingly into my eyes, "I had a feeling, though if my fingers and words cannot get you out of this, how about my feet? Shall we dance some, my deadly dearest?" My beautiful wife smiles softly and sways some, "it won't be much as I find how we are comfortable, but a sweet sway would be nice, nonetheless."

I nod softly and rock along with her, "You know, my love, how your hands rest in mine is my favourite feeling besides your lips,” I gently rest my forehead on her collar, getting comfortable in the slow sway and step we have concocted.

She looks down at me curiously, "Oh really, my sweet? May I ask why?"

I stop us for a moment, "Because your hands tell me stories,” I look up to her from her collar, “Even in how you hold my hands, I can tell how your day had gone. I can tell how much you worked. I can get your story for that day quicker than you telling me.” I take her left and spin her ruby ring, “Your lips also hold such sentiment. They relay to me your day and retell me favourite stories of ours. It places soft affections atop my cheeks as you peck every inch of my cadaver as we get ready for bed every night.”

She smiles her toothy side smile, “ Your hands tell me stories too, dear aphrodite,” She begins, “Your ink-covered fingers tell me how much paperwork I made for you. Your dry patches yell at me to help you find a cure for your accursed skin. Your red fingertips that are painted with my lipstick that ran astray after we have our lunch,” She smirks some, “They get painted red with my lipstick other times in the day too, don’t they, deadly dearest?” I blush, much to my chagrin, I know well enough what she is talking about. “The little dalliances in our office when we both have nothing to do for a significant amount of time… We haven’t had that kind of fun in a while, dear, maybe soon when we get some time to ourselves in the office.”

I hide my face in her collar again, “Rosebud, please, you are well aware I don’t often like to indulge in your office voyeurism. You say it’s “heavy petting” but we both know you have other plans,” I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her waist, “I let you get away with so much and yet you keep pushing the bar a bit further.” I shift some to peek at her, only to see her emerald eyes. Her Iris’ burn with sultry eros while her pupil carry angelic agape.

She wraps her arms around my waist to mirror me, “What do you see now, my sweet fortune-teller?”

“I see your love for me, raw and unadulterated… and a hint of sleepiness… I think it's about time we call it a night my love. You deserve to have a nice long rest after all the work you have done for today,” I take her hands into mine as I slowly waltz us to our room’s door, “Tonight we can dance in our dreams, all curled up together like a couple of cats as we slowly drift to sleep.” I grab her silky bedclothes and pass them to her as she peels off her coat.

“Thank you, love.” She purrs, quickly discarding her workwear to slip into her red nightgown.

I peel my workwear off and slip into my nightclothes, “Never a problem for you, rosebud. I happen to enjoy helping you get ready for bed.”

My wife curls up under our crimson duvet and coaxes me next to her. Under the newly fallen night of London, I hold my wife close and love on her dearly for the next day is guaranteed for us as we rest into the next aeon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[quickspinner]

For the writer ask game, how about 1, 3, 18, and 32 (sorry, I'm being greedy 😅😘)

Ask me a weird question

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

At the moment I write in the default setting for google docs most of the time. When I first started writing, there was a fanfic writer whose work I super enjoyed, and I really liked their tone and it fit with what I wanted to do. Their fics were always posted in a certain font and so I did most of my writing in that font--I think it was honestly just like, Times New Roman 10, it wasn't anything super fancy. I also wrote in Notepad rather than Word a lot (this was in the Days Before Google and the Cloud) because the interface was simplified and it was just easier concentrate without all the extras and the help and Clippy and whatever. Also my writing buddy at the time used a Mac and .rtf files were easier to send to her than .doc files.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

😂 I don't feel like I really have anything resembling a ritual, it's mostly just grabbing the time when I can? Most of the time that's sitting in an armchair in my bedroom with my laptop, with noise cancelling headphones on so that I'm not distracted by whatever chaos my offspring are perpetuating. Mostly I write on the weekends while my husband spends time with the kids, but I'm hoping to start getting in some weekday afternoon time while the kids are in school. So far that has been prevented by a seemingly never-ending stream of appointments for various family members, but I'm hoping that will die down in a few weeks. (Maybe. We have to see a whole new doctor this week and who knows what they will want to do, but my fingers are crossed that this will be a 'not a big deal but we should monitor it, get some more imaging in a few months kind of thing.)

It's cursed because of Discord. (I love you guys though 😁)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Ummmm I'll come back to this. I have to think and look at some notes. 😆 I'll reblog this with the answer once I have it.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I would almost definitely choose without action...but I think I could do either? My stuff is generally introspective enough I could go without dialogue, and it would be a lot of introspection and reflection, maybe someone taking care of a loved one who is incapacitated and can't speak back, so everything would be internal and conveyed through actions. But, I think it would be a lot more fun to do a dialogue only piece, and it would probably be like those comic panels or cartoons when someone is stuck in the dark and they can't see anything so the panels are just black, and you have to infer everything that's going on from their conversation.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

This is one of those questions where your mind just goes blank when someone asks you. 😂 I quote things all the time, there are lots of little lines that come to me in my daily life, I know there are, and yet. Consciously trying to bring them up is incredibly difficult. I know there are a lot of things from The Lord of the Rings, which has been my absolute favorite book for years and years and years (do not speak to me of the movies, I have not managed to watch them all the way through without rage quitting even a single time). I tried to read it at ten and failed and then a year later, I managed to read the whole thing, and now I practically know it by heart. There's a lot of things from movies and such, funny lines that stick with me that I use all the time. This habit has become weirder as I get older, because I haven't had a lot of mental energy to consume new things so my references are aging as I age.

The one thing that comes to me in the moment is a line from LotR when Gandolf is telling Frodo the history of the ring, and Frodo passionately wishes that Gollum were dead, and that he deserves to be dead. I'm quoting from memory so the wording might not be exactly right, but Gandolf says, "Many live who deserve to die, and many who die deserve life. Can you give it to them?"

It was just a really poignant moment that stopped a very human and emotional moment of Frodo's right in its tracks, and it ties directly into the third book when Frodo meets Gollum and realizes that he can't kill him; it's the planting of a seed of compassion that bears fruit later in the book, and ultimately saves everyone in the end.

Gollum still dies, but not until you've had ample opportunity to see the tragedy of his life, and you feel no satisfaction, no vindication, or very little, that he got what he deserves. By the time he dies, even with all the horrible things he does, you (or at least I) see him as a victim and feel sorry for him, even if you are still glad that he dies, because really what good could come from him being alive at that point.

Also, I was a huge fan of @cleolinda 's Movies In Fifteen Minutes back in the day, and there's a line in one of them about a King Arthur movie where the heroine says "The Romans wouldn't let us have sleeves" and Arthur says, "Baby, when I'm king, you can have all the sleeves you want," and my husband and I still quote it at each other. Especially when Starbucks is out of cup sleeves. 😂

[titconao3]

13, 19, 40 - for the writer/fanfic ask :)

For this set of questions ^_^

13. What is your planning process? Eeeerrrr. i'm more of a... plantser, i think is the technical term ;-) i know the general idea and end point, but little details that turn into bigger plot points happen as i write, so i can't really plan much - it's the writing itself that will give me the meat. When i start off, i only have the general stick figure of the story, as seen from afar in the dark without wearing glasses ;-)

This is also why i write linearly: one little thing, a little detail (idk, the colour of char A's socks) will come up again and become #meaningfulTM later, and i can't foresee that early on in the process. Planning stuff would be pointless, because the story grows organically and will ignore what i plan anyway (it's a big reason why i dislike detailed scenario prompts: i think my brain chugs in the background and suddenly pops an idea at me on the page all by itself, but i'm not conscious of it until the words are Right There in front of my eyes; if i have to follow something another brain plotted, then mine just freezes and sulks and whines "what's the poinnnnnnt" ;-) Okay, yeah, sure, i do go back and add sock colour later on to tighten a plot point/foreshadow etc, but the idea is that a tiny word-butterfly will create big word-storms later on :D This is also why i don't post WIPs: something that comes up may need me to edit previous bits.

If i have extra notes, ideas, scene outlines, mid-way beats to hit, or bits of dialogue for a later part, i just jot it all down at the bottom of my document (i write in a word processor that's synced with an online drive, no fancy Writing Software For Fancy Writers for me. i'm basic ;-). i don't write out the entire scene / dialogue in advance, because it would be futile; by the time i get there i'd need to rewrite most of it anyway. And i might get bored and not feel like connecting the prewritten bits ;-) especially if it means rewriting everything as i go because it doesn't fit as well as it would if it had flown more organically from one part to another. (i've tried it, and it's not for me; it works for others!)

19. Dead or overused tropes? Oh my, there is no such thing as a dead or overused trope :D it's all about what you do with it! Play it straight, have a coffee shop AU but IN SPACE, take a common fanon characterization and twist it just so... i'll even sometimes take tropes i don't really like just to see how i can do them in a way i can stomach (one day, one day, i'll do a Soulmates AU. i find the premise a bit creepy when it's played twu wuv 4realz, but one day i'll play with that). (no shade on Soulmates AU lovers; kink tomato and all that!)

It's not like storytelling hasn't been using and reusing Coming Of Age, Revenge, Hero vs Fate, Fuck You God(s), etc patterns since, uh, forever. It's not the fact they're used that makes something enjoyable or not. *slaps Star Wars' hood* this baby can fit so many tropes in there! (This example is Just For You, Beguile, because i'm not much into SW ;-)

And, look. You'll have to pry hurt/comfort and whump from my cold dead hands ;-)

The only times i find something (trope, pattern... call it what you will) overused are when i see the themes, rhythms, expressions, words, obsessions that come up again and again in my own work. i see them only too well, and i fight them, and they always win in the end. They probably say too much about me, too! And then i angst about being predictable (@vulnerasanenturmyprince KEN FOLLET), boring, etc. (And then i go read fics that hit the buttons i want hit again and again)

40. Do you have any rituals before uploading a fic? Uh, rituals... it's usually fretting around the title, tags, and summary ;-) i rarely have the title early on, and i think for the summary it's happened... once? (out of, as of the time of answering this, over 160 published fics). No special underwear or whatnot for me. And fretting about how it's The Worst Fic Ever and how i Can't Write Anymore and Should Just Stop but i just need to chuck it on the good ole AO3 so i stop tinkering and quite possibly making it worse.

i try not to worry about feedback because it's pointless, which means i worry about feedback - by which i don't mean Comment Or Else, but that i write and publish (and organize events) to be part of the fandom community and squee with my fellow fen: as my AO3 profile says, to me, fandom is connection!

Thank you, @beguilewritesstuff :-)

[transmasc-wizard]

How do you plan your stories? Like characters, character dynamics, relationships, personalities, plot, storyline, etc etc??

!!! i'm a hardcore plotter & i love this question. it is however very complicated and will be very long. also i assume this is a "how do you do this, i would like Advice" type question so i'll both be describing my process and some little advice tidbits. Also usual disclaimer that i'm Just Some Guy on the internet and what i say might not work for you.

(oh also i have a post right here about plotting when you haven't before & my "plotting levels", which could be relevant?)

onwards!

CHARACTERS:

i have a post that describes my character-making process a bit here, but to half-quote: "I find their “life saying”, which is basically the saying they live by, & find what makes them break it. Then i find their motivations, deepest fear, biggest want, and some personality traits. Then i consider their nonsense vibes, sexuality, age (maybe) and gender, then let them run around in my head doing stupid shit until i know them. Then they get a name, and are gently lowered into the story and the chaos i have created." (i added the bolding so you can see the steps. Also these don't have to be in order but typically lowering-into-the-story is last and life saying is first.)

By "nonsense vibes", i mean random little things that make me think of them. Once again shamelessly stealing from myself, i gave angel's nonsense vibes as an example: "bowling alley carpeting shirt pattern. Eat the rich. Black and white snakes. Girls bite back. the devils are here. Bring a knife to a gunfight. Shiny pink aviators. Cinderella gone wrong. Pineapple pizza just to be contrary. A sign that reads 'con artist!' in glitter." yk? It helps me think of them as An Entity for some goddamn reason.

Also!!! letting them run around in my head is a VERY important part of the process!!! i currently have a "golden heists" character prancing around. i don't know her name but i know she hates cheese and stabs people. Most nights i fall asleep to little nonsense scenarios with my characters; they'll never happen in canon (whether it's because it wouldn't fit plot-wise or it's literally impossible such as wifi and GFS characters) but it helps me SO MUCH to let them just... exist. Like mental fanfic of your own work.

(I don't actually think up backstory as backstory? it's like plot to me. i'll explain that later though)

PERSONALITIES (under the cut so i don't clog dashes):

my personality process is... incredibly informal. I start with the first character i think up (they DONT have to end up being the MC), and pick a handful of traits. Let's use... serious, wry, observant, hypervigilant, & quiet. Similar personality traits tend to group together. (it is possible to have, say, a loud and serious character, but it's harder.)

So i have my first character, then i make a second that kind of mirrors that one--let's have a goofy, fun, easygoing, loud girl. LG (loud girl) and CH (cheese hater) are almost like foils. But how do i add a 3rd/4th/whatever character, you ask, if that's the way i make them? i take more traits that aren't being used (and some that are!!! it's always good to re-use traits, just not entire personalities). So i'll make a selfish, aloof, money-driven, analytical little bastard of indeterminable gender. AB (analytical bastard), LG and CH aren't going to be my only characters, but i think you get what i mean now. I then shove the three of them through my character making process.

CHARACTER DYNAMICS/RELATIONSHIPS:

so you have characters!! but how do they interact with each other? this is where personalities are really important to know. Think about your IRL friends & people who annoy you; why? why is your dynamic like that?

In Six of Crows (when possible, advice posts should reference published books, not just their own wips), Inej does not like violence. kaz, on the other hand, sees violence as a great tool to be used liberally. This fuels many of their interactions, because inej is fundamentally someone who wants to be a pacifist, and kaz is not.

in my wip, Golden Heists, it's clear that LG, CH, and AB are going to have areas where they get along and areas where they don't. LG is cheery and nice, so AB will probably be annoyed by that, but also use it to their advantage. Being aloof and being serious can be quite similar, so CH and AB will understand each other's dislike of pointless chatter or long conversations. however, CH will probably find AB's selfishness and drive for money a bit grating.

Also, think about how they're connected. Why do they know each other? Childhood bffs, co-workers, one saved the other's life... etc. And why do they stay around each other? they're forced to, they like each other's company, they need to work together on something, one is mentoring the other, etc.

If by "relationships" you meant romantic ones... sorry bud, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing, i'm aro as hell. I tend to create people who's dynamics are 'they're friends, yay' & then make them Smooch. But i think @she-who-fights-and-writes has something on that.

PLOTTING YOUR PLOT:

i have some basic steps: 1) daydream. 2) think "lol this would be cool" or "lol this would be FUCKED UP" about one daydream. 3) think "hmm.... story idea". 4) repeat steps 1, 2, and 3 with more specific situations in the story. Branch off from more and more daydreams until i have a bunch of little scene ideas. 5) start an outline--how i do that is in the post i linked wayyy up top. 6) do step 4 even more.

seriously, daydreaming is SO SO helpful. it's absolutely at least 80% of my plotting process--the other 20% is just writing it down as a bullet-point outline. Don't let anyone tell you that daydreaming is a useless part of your day. As a writer, it's incredibly valuable. (Also! write down your daydreams. i promise you're not going to remember that thing that's 'so cool, i'll definitely remember it in the morning...')

Also, since i usually think up complex characters before complex plot, (because i like characters best), a lot of my plotting is thinking "ok, i have these people and their personalities, and i have the basic things that kick the plot off/the basic big events. now what the fuck do these bastards do that gets us through the story?" I string it together like one big mess. And don't be afraid to plot out of order!! as long as you know roughly where things go by the end of outlining, you can leave wiggle room. (I don't even write in order, but that's a topic for another day.)

STORYLINES:

i assume this meant "plotting/planning/putting multiple storylines in one story at once". And it's a very important thing!!

Most stories have a main storyline and then subplots. In Maggie Stiefvater's Raven Cycle, the main plot is finding Glendower. Subplots include Adam getting away from his family, Henry and his backstory, Ronan and Cabeswater, Whelk and Czerny, and Maura in the cave thingy.

When juggling storylines, i suggest keeping some sort of chart or graph to make sure you're not giving a weird amount of time to a subplot that doesn't need it, or neglecting a plotline that needs attention. You don't want to focus on a subplot so long that people forget what the Actual Point of the book is. Also, make sure they're connected in some way. Whether it's an important aspect of the character's life, an off-shooting problem from the main problem, or something else, you want your subplots to still feel like the same book.

BONUS: you didn't ask about this, but backstory:

i do backstory kind of at the same time as plot & characters. Like... in the middle, but more with plot. Because to me, backstory is just "plot that happened before the book starts". I do it the same way--basic concept (for GH: someone Did A Crime), what characters did to influence it (didn't run fast enough, were arrested), daydream & come up with new shit (the crime was arson), repeat.

If anyone's read this far, i really hope something i said is helpful! again, i'm just Some Guy, and again, feel free to ignore what doesn't work. I tried to make the stuff like character dynamics applicable to drafting too, btw. Also, don't feel the need to plot Literally Everything if that's not what works for your brain! (And if anyone else has questions, i'm always open to answering!)

[recurring-polynya]

Just finished Dear Wormwood. And it is genuinely one of the most interesting AUs I've ever read. I know it's not a funny story but i laughed when Rukia declared that she didn't remember breaking up with him. I have SO MANY questions for that AU? Would you ever continue it? If not, would you share your other headcanons for that AU? I MEAN HOW COME RENJI IS THE NEXT HEIR OF KUCHIKI??? AND WHY DID RUKIA LEAVE??? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT??? AAAAAAHHHHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

Thank you so much! Dear Wormwood is so near and dear to my heart. It is, objectively, the least popular thing I have ever written, but I felt like the people who liked it really liked it. Obviously, I am always happy to talk about it.

First off, I am incapable of writing things that are purely anything. I put funny bits in my tragedies, I'll throw some gut-wrenching pang of grief into the middle of what is otherwise a comedy. I was once accused of including the full-range of human emotion in a fanfic about amnesia role-play sex. "I don't recall breaking up with you" is hilarious. I do not do this on purpose, it just happens.

So, the thing about this story is that I am not likely to write another chunk of it, as I sometimes do with my shorties. If I was going to work on it, I would want to do it right, which is to say, write it out as a full story. I kinda doubt I ever will, both because, as I said, it wasn’t very popular and I like attention, but also, I think I would want to finish all of Heart is a Muscle first and that’s... gonna take awhile.

Anyway, let’s talk about the story! (cut for spoilers, both for Dear Wormwood and Heart is a Muscle as a series)

I will get to the questions eventually, but I think it would help to try to explain the general concept. One of the reasons this story is so important to me is because it digs into my primary characterization of Rukia and Renji and their relationships to their zanpakutou, which is basically the lynchpin of everything I write.

I watched the Bleach anime first, re-watched it again years later, and then read the manga, so a lot of my headcanons were formed by the anime, and then refined by the manga. My initial impression was that Renji and Zabimaru fit together in a fairly straightforward way-- Renji is a shouty hothead, and so is his zanpakutou, QED. I struggled to make a similar narrative for Rukia. I tried to think about the things Sode no Shirayuki stands for-- patience, perseverance, inevitability, stoicism, self-sacrifice for a larger goal. This fit nicely, I feel, with Rukia-in-battle, particularly with her bankai. But unlike other characters, none of these are Rukia's natural characteristics. Rukia is impulsive--the very premise of Bleach hinges on her split-second decision to give all her powers to a human she just met. She's hot-tempered, she's dramatic, she's impatient, she loves her friends with her entire heart. If you look at other shinigami-- Ikkaku is a good example, his zanpakutou has basically the same personality as him, taken to its extreme. But Sode no Shirayuki has a tempering effect on Rukia-- she makes Rukia a stronger fighter overall by encouraging the qualities she lacks.

The more I thought about this, and as I mentioned, reading the manga, I realized that Renji isn't naturally impulsive or overzealous. When he loses the love of his life, he makes a 40-year-plan to get her back and then he does it. He finds out he's been appointed vice-captain shortly before Rukia leaves for her Living World mission, and decides that he would rather wait a month until she gets back to tell her, because he wants to be fully vested in his position. The anime tends to play up his buffoonish moments, but if you stick to the manga, for the most part, he is a thoughtful and effective fighter, not someone who runs off half-cocked. In fact, some of his worst mistakes come from his inability to react to new information-- when he comes to arrest Rukia, he expects that her powers have been "stolen" and has difficulty pivoting when it turns out that she gave them away. Once they're back in Soul Society, he finds out that Byakuya is not going to do anything to save Rukia, which he had taken as a given, and he's paralyzed for a significant amount of time. I've seen analyses of his two bankai that pick up on this too-- Hihiou Zabimaru allows him to stay in one place, to armor himself, and attack from afar. In order to use So-oh Zabimaru, he has to move, to actually put himself into the action. Just like with Rukia, his zanpakutou counters his natural tendencies, pushing him to action when he would otherwise hesitate.

Furthermore, these counterbalancing tendencies are each other’s personalities. I have always liked the idea that a zanpakutou starts out as sort of a nebulous spirit that takes its form and qualities based on the memories and experiences and hopes and fears of the shinigami it attaches itself to. If you've read my Heart is a Muscle series, there's a lot of implications in there that Rukia and Renji were so close as children, and the fact that one of the zanpaktou in question is already a chimera, that this process happened as... kind of a mess that had to be split apart when they grew up and became shinigami. (There’s a little more to it than this, but I’m trying not to blow the whole thing. tbh, I can never tell how obvious all of this is, since no one has ever actually mentioned it in the comments)

But what if it weren't so? What if Renji had ended up the cold, dispassionate zanpakutou? What if Rukia was just one idiot with no impulse control inside of another idiot with no impulse control? In canon, they are both sort of late bloomers, and I think this is because they are both constantly struggling with being the person their zanpakutou wants them to be. In Dear Wormwood, though, one major difference from canon is that this conflict is erased-- they both excel in school right away. There's an important line in there about them being hailed as the strongest shinigami in their generation.

There's a problem, though, which is the millstone of fate. Canon Rukia and Renji don't survive the Soul Society arc because they're strong, they survive it specifically because they aren't strong enough. If Rukia had been more of a hotshot, she wouldn't have slipped while defending Ichigo's family and she wouldn't have needed to give him her powers. If Renji hadn't had to give in and beg Ichigo for help, he might not have been able to fight all those captains on Soukyoku Hill. Aizen treats them both as pretty disposable, and doesn't bother to specifically neutralize them, the way he does to, say, Hitsugaya and Hinamori.

In other words, Dear Wormwood has 300 different possible endings, and they are all bad. I actually intended to have one of Rukia or Renji kill the other (I honestly don't remember which, because it could have been either), but then I chickened out. If it were to continue, Renji might have a pang of conscience, turn his back on his clan, and break Rukia out of prison, only for them to die together in the escape attempt, because even the two brightest shinigami of their generation aren't enough to take out multiple captains at once. Or maybe Ichigo kills Renji, because this Renji doesn't surrender and ask for help from pitiful ryouka. Or Renji might kill Ichigo in their second confrontation and then stand next to Byakuya while Rukia gets executed. Or maybe Renji tries to figures out what's going on, and gets murdered by Aizen and then Rukia gets executed. It is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. There is no good end. There was a moment when things could have been different, but they somehow, they missed it.

Anyway, this has veered so wildly off topic, let me get back to your actual questions:

The actually pivot point of this AU is the time Renji and Rukia leave Inuzuri for the Academy, and Rukia ends up with the part of their zanpakutou that is Zabimaru and Renji ends up with part that becomes Sode no Shirayuki. They are basically superstars, prodigies in the vein of Gin and Hitsugaya. Byakuya hears about Rukia, probably however he did in canon and shows up to propose an adoption. There’s a problem, though: This Rukia isn’t lonely and sad, feeling left behind by her only friend. This Rukia is fierce and proud and she wants to fight Hollows, not play baby sister for some fancy rich prat. She turns him down.

I don’t think Rukia ever really had a choice in canon. Imagine, an Inuzuri mongrel turning down an adoption to the great Kuchiki clan. The absolute gall. Renji and Rukia already have a bit of a reputation, though, and it’s common knowledge that the only way to get Inuzuri Rukia to do anything is to appeal to her big, stone-faced friend Abarai. The Kuchiki corner Renji and lay out their case logically. He can convince Rukia to accept the adoption, and both he and she will be set up for a life of fame and fortune, or Byakuya will make the rest of their existence a very short misery. So, Renji talks Rukia into it. The deal is this: Rukia is adopted as First Daughter, and immediately betrothed to Renji. They will go live with the Kuchiki. They will be given positions in the Sixth. In canon, I always say that Rukia is specifically excluded from the line of succession, but in this case, Rukia and Renji are bursting with potential, and the more intractable Kuchiki elders can be won over by fantasizing over what kind of babies they’ll make. They are named presumptive co-heirs, displaceable if Byakuya ever has his own children.

Byakuya and Rukia did not actually get along very well during their first 40 years together in canon, but at least they ignored each other. For Byakuya, it is one thing to have a sad ghost of his dead wife wandering about his house. It is an entirely different case to have an angry hellcat who looks like his wife and refuses to act the part of a Kuchiki. Wormwood Rukia doesn’t want to dress up. She doesn’t want to learn proper etiquette and respect her elders. She doesn’t want to follow the rigid hierarchy of the Sixth. Rukia likes the actually shinigami parts. She likes learning swordwork and intricate kidou. She likes chasing Renji up the ranks and fighting Hollows back-to-back with him and trying to crack his calm demeanor by seducing him in utter inappropriate parts of Kuchiki Manor.

It’s unsustainable, though. Byakuya keeps trying to control Rukia, who refuses to do a thing that he says. Renji is stuck between them. He is everything Byakuya has ever wanted in a younger brother-- serious, studious, hardworking. This pisses Rukia off, to be honest, and it becomes harder and harder for Renji to wring any sort of compromise out of her. I never actually thought about what the precipitating event of Rukia’s departure might be, but in some sense it doesn’t matter, it is inevitable. Rukia is sick of Byakuya, he can’t live with her and she can’t live with him, and furthermore, Rukia realizes that she’s dragging Renji onto Byakuya’s bad side, blowing the noble future he works so hard for to smithereens. In any AU there are some things that are immutable, and in this case, it is Rukia who lets Renji go so he can have a good life with the Kuchiki while she goes off to find her own path. (It might have been nice if she had told him this, or that she still loves him, but as I said, some things are immutable)

Byakuya is furious at this affront, but he is done with Rukia. In his mind, going to the Eleventh is about as humiliating as anything he could do to her. The only person who isn’t scared shitless of him is Renji, who knows that this will blow over eventually, and that it will go worse for him if he doesn’t stand by his brother at this time. I cannot overemphasize what an utterly inhuman reaction this is-- Renji has just had his heart broken, and his reaction is to be supportive of the very person who drove away the girl he loves (and by “be supportive” I mean, he goes to work every day and turns in his paperwork on time and never asks Byakuya any personal questions). But anyway, this is why he’s still Heir-- everyone else is afraid to go anywhere near the Byakuya Blast Radius. This is not a Renji that relies on the love and support of his friends. This is a Renji who endures. Someone asked me once if he was still friends with Kira and Hinamori, and he is. Now, all three of them are complete basket cases with unhealthy emotional attachments to horrible people.

Seriously, what a fun AU, eh?

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

22, 41, and 70!

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

step one: putting on the right background music (usually a movie soundtrack or lindsey stirling, it needs to be mostly instrumental for me to focus).

step two: most of the time, i start with an "idea dump" in one of my journals, where i'll literally just record any ideas that come to mind re the fic i want to write. afterwards, i try to take those ideas and put them into an outline. for shorter fics, that's usually just the basic order of events. for longer oneshots or multichaps, i tend to write out what i expect to happen in each event/section of the fic.

step three version A: once i have an outline, i like to handwrite my fics in nice notebooks with colorful pens 🥰 if im able to do so, i eventually type up the fic, wait at least one day to do a read-through edit for major issues, and then wait at least one more day to use NaturalReaders to read my story aloud to me so i can catch smaller typos (a common one: and vs an).

step three version B: if i can't handwrite the fic for whatever reason, such as if im on a tighter deadline or the story is longer (or both), i'll type the fic straight into a google doc. if time allows it, i'll retype the entire fic after a few days in another google doc. if time does not allow that, i do the same read-through and NaturalReaders editing pattern that i do with handwritten fics (although sometimes with two read-throughs).

step four: after that, i'll post the fic!

41. what is the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

well, The Wrong Note is weird by virtue of the fact that it very well may be the only monk x medium crossover on the internet 😂 that said, the plot is a pretty straightforward murder mystery that's fitting for both shows, so i wouldn't necessarily consider it the weirdest story idea i've ever had. hmm...

Sigh No More, my maiko much ado au, is kind of weird ngl, since it's such a... unique au to apply to atla and maiko 😂 WAIT WAIT, i've got it: in Exposition, a fic i wrote for the kataang valentine's bash last year, one of the aus i explore involves aang as a kind-of-but-not-quite-ghost. i think that's the weirdest story idea i've had just because all the other aus in the fic are way more traditional (college au, superhero au, mermaid au), but not the ghost-ish concept lmao. i cannot for the life of me remember what inspired it or how i would have taken it further, but yeah. ghost-ish aang. maybe human, maybe once human, maybe never again human, perpetually toeing the line between life and death. definitely one of the weirder fic ideas i've had

(in terms of non-posted weird story ideas, i tend to forget anything my brain comes up with if i don't write it down, so regretfully im not sure 💀 atla heathers au?? kincoy sort-of-kind-of striptease?? ladybug dies fic?? are those weird?? i feel like i have no standard to measure against lmaooo)

70. are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)?

yes and no? fanfic is a hobby and i try to treat it as such, but i am also not immune to getting frustrated when a scene doesn't come out in words the way i see it in my head. i've already talked about my writing process in 22, including how i edit, but i'll add here that i have a pretty hard rule that i don't allow myself to go back and edit until i've finished the entire story. if i want to change something later, i'll make a note in the margins/leave a comment in my doc to remind myself about it, but i won't actually revise anything until the story is complete.

[dimplesandfierceeyes]

I hope they are not too many! I am very interested in your answers 🧡💛💙

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written for ‚The Supreme Art of War Is to Subdue the Enemy Without Fighting‘?

If you had to assign a theme song to ‚music is not in the notes, but in the silence between them‘, which would you assign? (This was the question I saw right after I read that amazing story and Because of the way the story was connected to music your fic come to mind immediately after seeing the ask)

What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

What is the fanfic you’ve written that you’re most proud of? 

Is there a part of ‚To Bed or Closet; That is the Question’ you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet? Or that a few picked up on but you would like to highlight/ mention again?

These are some tricky questions haha! I'll do my best to answer them satisfyingly.

1. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written for The Supreme Art of War Is to Subdue the Enemy Without Fighting?

Probably dreadfully cliché but my favourite scene is probably the one when they're lying in the cave after eating and Pat starts pushing Pran's buttons. That was actually the second scene I wrote in the whole fic because that conversation just jumped into my head when I was thinking about where the fic would end. Partly I just loved the idea of them and the rest of the neighbourhood kids sneaking off into a field while all the adults were at some kind of adult only event, everyone getting a little tipsy on pilfered wine and Pat being his usual loud and vivacious self, going around kissing everyone on the mouth and telling them he loved them whilst Pran sat off to the side, watching him move closer and closer... It's a memory they've both held onto, but for very different reasons. For Pat it was an awakening of hope that was shattered the minute Pran left the village. For Pran, it was a bittersweet moment he both cherishes and regrets. In some ways I would have loved to expand on the memory, but it didn't fit into the narrative. So I guess what I'm saying is, actually my favourite scene was a scene I didn't even write 😅

2. If you had to assign a theme song to music is not in the notes, but in the silence between them, which would you assign?

Ah, and here's a tricky question. I'm literally the last person to ask about music because I have no idea. I very rarely have time to listen to music because I'm so easily distracted by it haha. I can't have it on when I work or while I write and I work from home so I don't even have a commute to listen to it in. So please forgive me when the only song I can assign to my cabaret AU is Our Song by Nanon Korapat. Honestly the lyrics of the song do encapsulate a lot of how I feel about love and relationships. Love in real life is not grand gestures and constantly being overwhelmed by your emotions; it's all about the little things and the way life just settles around it as though it was always meant to be there. And that's true of all love, not just the romantic kind. I like to think that's the kind of love that the cabaret AU celebrates; the early stages of a regular, everyday kind of love in all its awkward and hesitant glory.

3. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

I'm always incredibly amazed when people tell me they've read a fic more than once. Some of my favourite comments are people who've read a fic, gone away and then continued to think about it. Knowing that my fics have actually stayed with people is honestly one of the greatest compliments and I still find it hard to believe. I also love knowing which parts of my fic people enjoyed the most! Sometimes it's just a mention of the section, other times it's a whole copy and paste and I love it. I wish I could do it when I review but I'm usually so caught up in the whole vibe and concept of a fic that my brain is mush by the time I get to the end! I also wish I was the type of person who can bookmark a fic to leave a comment on later, but my memory is atrocious so then I'd not comment at all! I figure a garbled, enthusiastic comment with no real substance is better than no review at all XD

4. What is the fanfic you’ve written that you’re most proud of? 

Honestly, music is not in the notes is probably the one I'm most proud of because its the first time I've ever managed to finish something that long and I have the friends I met on Tumblr to thank for that because without their encouragement and especially @pranpatsocool for all their work betaing, I never would have completed it. The love and comments I had for that fic have been amazing too! I really thought it would be a weird little AU that very few people would be interested in reading so I was amazed by the reactions I had to it.

5. Is there a part of To Bed or Closet; That is the Question you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet? Or that a few picked up on but you would like to highlight/ mention again?

Honestly, people picked up most of it! It's so very much an episode 5 pastiche, it's hard not to catch all the allusions. I loved having it all pointed out though. One of the things I love about fanfiction is that you can chock a story full of references to the original work and you know that everyone is going to ferret them out haha!

--

Thank you for the questions, anon! They really made me think haha, I hope my answers were interesting and feel free to let me know if you want to know anything else!

[that-salty-ghost]

Current Fic in Progress: As Above, So Below [Arcane] [Viktor / Male Reader]

Hiiiii lovely people, I'm Ghost.

I'm a little new here, but in the spirit of the cold season vibes I wanted to share a fic I've been working on in case anyone was looking for a cozy/slow read that will speed up later on.

I'll post chapters on here gradually over time if there's interest, but here's everything thats published as of right now:

As Above, So Below / Viktor x Reader / Arcane Fanfic (36781 words) by SaltyGhost

1. Tinkerer | 2. Coffee Talk | 3. Lost & Found | 4. R&R | 5. Exceptionally Okay | 6. Worth It | 7. Guilty Pleasures | 8. Nightcap | 9. Dickwagons | 10. Absolutely [18+] | 11. Wake Up Call | 12. Daddy Issues | 13. Downtime | 14. Puff, Puff, Pass | 15. The Proust Effect

It's Viktor/Male Reader, so if that's not your jive no worries. Spoilers: it gets a little gay (and pretty super gay in chpt 10 👀)

Anyway.

Quick summary: After your parents are killed in a raid by the enforcers, you make your living by working as a barista and bartender along with some shady side hustles as Vander starts to prepare for an uprising. Viktor enters your chaotic life with a calm confidence that you're immediately drawn to. You find yourself spending more and more time with him as he preps for his admission into the Academy, but when the time comes for you to join the rebellion, your life takes an unexpected turn that neither of you are prepared for.

Reader uses he/him pronouns, is witty and still figuring life out even though he had to grow up relatively quickly. This is definitely a longer read, so if you're not into slow burns/gradual build up/etc., I'll be writing drabbles/one-shots later once I've developed a style that would fit that.

Here's all the places you can find the fic right now:

Ao3 | Wattpad 📖

Or if you like what you see and want to buy the Ghost a coffee:

Ko-fi | ☕️

If you've made it this far thanks for taking a gander :) Inbox is always open for feedback, prompts (once this is finished), questions, or just to say hi.

[Also thanks for your patience with this repost, the tags broke shortly after the original one. Fun times ;_;]

Cheers! 👻