#It's taken like 5 pieces for this couple for me to actually write this to I guess that means Vince got pay off.

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1 and long distance relationships

a/n: this was a fun request :) just in general, i think these guys would be pretty good at it (save for a few of them), mostly bc they’re young and very online

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!

wc | 2.5k

from worst to best at handling it

jiwoong

long distance with jiwoong is just point blank difficult

like i’ve said before i feel like relationships with jiwoong are long lasting so

when you receive whatever opportunity that requires your presence overseas, you’ve been dating for at least a couple of years

your routine is set and there’s a high probability you’re living together

so it’s a major disruption in the flow of your lives

and it’s not to say that jiwoong doesn’t want you to go, nor does he want things between you two to end

it’s just hard to wrap his mind around not having you around for dinner or having to sleep alone :(

so yeah safe to say this is going to be a very difficult time in your lives

depending on how far you are, jiwoong will absolutely be visiting you and staying in whatever apartment you’ve found yourself in

if you’re close enough (aka flight less than 5 hours) he’ll visit multiple times, but anything more than that he’ll probably end up only going once

it’s hard to get time off when you’re a working adult </3

it’s the most difficult for the both of you during holidays

there are days off you had in korea that you don’t have off now, so you physically hurt knowing that jiwoong is sitting at home instead of being on your celebratory day-off dates

and it’s just hard to keep him updated on your life

you fall into a routine of when to call each other and whatnot pretty quickly though

you also write things you want to tell him down in your notes app so when you’re talking you don’t miss anything

and really the main thing that gets you through this is those little sort of habits that you learn to have along the way

but man. you cannot wait to go home

hanbin

this might be a hot take but i think hanbin would hate being in a long distance relationship

in the beginning, he’s absolutely convinced that everything will be fine and nothing will change

his mindset is “i kept my friendship with matthew up while he was in canada, so what’s stopping me from keeping up my relationship with my s/o”

and then a week passed without you and he got really depressed

i think being in a relationship with hanbin means spending a lot of time together, holding hands, and staying near him

so when you’re so far that he can’t even fly to you easily it’s just so difficult for him

but his last resort is breaking up with you

like it’s seriously his worst-case scenario

when hanbin loves someone, he loves them very, very hard

so he will do everything in his power to keep your relationship going, but relationships are a two way street

so you need to put in the work that he’s putting in, too

obviously you’re likely abroad because you’ve taken an opportunity (aka a job) so you can’t be online all the time but

call him when you’re free, tell him when you’re going to be busy, and let him know about every single little victory that you have so you can celebrate together

and, for the love of god, do NOT bring up the fact that you can tell he hates long distance

i’m so serious with this one

hanbin absolutely will not tell you that he doesn’t like it

because, if he knows you know, he’ll feel like you feel like he’s not willing to fight for your relationship (does this sentence make sense)

but just know when you get back you’ll watch him finally relax after like 50 years lol

taerae

i’m going to keep it short: taerae’s heart shatters into a million pieces when you break the news to him lol

like obviously he tells you he’s proud of you and that he couldn’t be more excited for you it’s just that he’s actively crying as he says that

with taerae i think you actually almost reject whatever offer you’ve received, but you pretty quickly realize that doing that would make him feel worse so you decide to muscle through it

the worst part of long distance with taerae is the like week before you leave

he cries a lot and then feels bad for crying but he doesn’t want you to go you know

when he drops you off at the airport you have to take hanbin with you because he’s crying too hard to drive back to his apartment

he hugs you outside the airport doors for like 5 minutes and hanbin has to be like okay … let’s go now … okay … we need to let them get on their flight …

and then you ugly cry for half the flight … like someone reports you to the flight attendant and they’re like is everything okay ?? and you’re like no i just left my boyfriend in korea

after that i think it’s not nearly as bad as you both thought it was going to be LOL

he’s a lil bit (incredibly) clingy at first and gets rly butthurt when you don’t update him on your every move, but then he cries to hao and hao is like “here are some tips!”

then he’s very sweet

taerae will send you videos of him playing the guitar or of him just screwing around with the boys

he also sends you cringy little paragraphs about how much he loves you and how proud of you he is

obviously taerae misses you but tbh it’s like you never left

the only reason he’s not higher up is the pure agony you went through for that week before

taerae the man that you are

gunwook

graduated from taerae school of how do i deal with my s/o going abroad for a bit

he acts all cool with it

when he drops you off at the airport he gives you the gunwook bear hug and is like “i’ll see you later! love you!”

then you get off the plane 10+ hours later and you have like 17 texts from gyuvin describing gunwook going through the 5 stages of grief

it’s actually kinda funny ngl because it’s like a picture of him hugging a pillow with a pint of ice cream in his hand while he watches your favorite movie and cries

also like taerae, everything is absolutely fine within like a week

gunwook’s really cheesy while you’re gone though and that’s how you tell he really misses you

he’s making playlists and posting old cute pics of u on his story with the caption “10,000 km away”

gyuvin also told you that he giggles and kicks his legs every time you text him when he’s not expecting it

he also just hangs out with your family while you’re abroad

he’ll text you like “damn y/n your mom made the most delicious dinner tonight” and you’re like ??? without me????

you later find out your mom invited him over so they could be sad and miss you together which is soooo embarrassing

gunwook will mail you random items from your room and with a note that says “why didn’t you take this” as if you didn’t meticulously pack every single thing you brought with you

so then you have to spend money to mail it back because you don’t want to have to buy another suitcase (you end up having to anyway, but you’re still glad you mailed the things back)

when you get back he cries in your arms for like an hour lol

gyuvin

gyuvin acts like it’s not a big deal but lowkey it’s the biggest deal in his life

he’s like “omg congrats do u wanna get dinner”

that night he cries in hao’s arms like a little baby and then he gets over it

he’s genuinely so happy for you, and there are no strings attached to that excitement

one of his closest friends left his home to pursue his dreams so he should let you leave to pursue them too, you know?

the only reason gyuvin isn’t higher actually is because the other three are long distance from everyone they know LOL

long distance with gyuvin is remarkably similar to just being there with him

when he’s hanging out with friends you’ll be on the phone (albeit muted) just in case you need to contribute to the conversation

and he gets really excited when you have him on the phone while you chill out with your (new) friends

assuming you’re studying abroad because gyuvin’s not old enough to have an s/o with a job that has overseas opportunity, a lot of your time is spent in your dorm so you can call him </3

gyuvin is very popular with your overseas friends and they all follow him on instagram

any time someone hits on you they let him know and also let him know that they told whoever hit on you that you’re TAKEN!!

obviously he doesn’t enjoy knowing that people are hitting on you and he can’t do anything about it but he appreciates that your friends shut it down

all in all i think this is a healthy era of your relatioship and it strengthens your trust in one another a lot

but he prefers you being there with him so come home soon pretty please <3

ricky

yeah long distance with ricky is barely an issue

like when you tell him he’s like “oh…okay” and then he’s sad for a little bit

but then he’s sending you off like nothing is wrong!!! and truly nothing is wrong

i think actually you’d be more sad than ricky is but that’s not to say he’s not going to miss you at all

of course he is

but ricky is a seasoned misser and knows how to keep up relationships from far away (even if he’s never had experience with it being a romantic relationship) so he’s mostly concerned with brainstorming the best ways to like keep things going in a way that isn’t jarring

he consults pretty much everyone he knows on what they think he should do, almost like he’s collecting data or something

so once you actually leave ricky is pretty interactive and prepared for your escapade!!!!

he texts you at specific times of day he knows you aren’t busy and you schedule daily calls at the same time once you know your every day schedule

like gyuvin i’m assuming you’re studying abroad, so your class schedule is on ricky’s home screen (it’s a picture widget) but it’s been translated into his timezone

sometimes he texts you during classes he knows you don’t like and you’re like … isn’t it 4 in the morning

he doesn’t answer that question

but to be fair you do the exact same thing so can you really talk…

like gyuvin, your overseas friends LOVE ricky

sometimes he will sponsor you doordashing dinner and by extension your friends (except you make them pay him back LOL)

and they think he’s the funniest guy ever

bonus: sometimes gyuvin will text you pictures of him scrolling through old texts </3

hao

is this at all shocking

he’s so perfect

doesn’t even bat an eye when you tell him you want to go away for this opportunity you have

“okay! how long until you leave? are they paying for your flights? do you want to start packing now? do we need to get clothes for different weather?”

once you’re off he does get a bit sad but he promises himself that by the time you’re off the plane he’ll be feeling better

he breaks the promise but you don’t know that because he acts like everything is just fine!!!

throughout the duration of your time away, communication with hao is very steady and consistent

you’re each putting in enough energy for a perfect 50/50 split <3

when you start making friends overseas, you show them hao and they’re in awe that you managed to bag the most perfect person on earth

this makes you sad, not because you’re jealous, but because hao would say they should be more surprised he managed to bag you </3

like ricky, he will also sponsor your meals from time to time!! sometimes he doordashes stuff to your place without even telling you like its that serious

hao is the champion at curing your homesickness, mostly because he figured out how to cure it for himself first

if you ever feel like things are too much and you need to leave, he will drop everything to go out there and get you feeling back up to things

he sends little presents every time you have a big achievement or an exciting event

and he’s the number one endorser of getting yourself little treats when you’re feeling proud of yourself

he’s so proud of you

and he’s so happy you got to experience something so exciting

but he can’t lie, it is a big breath of fresh air when you get back lol

matthew

tbh for the sake of this let’s pretend you went to canada bc

why can i see you moving in with matthew’s family idk

you tell him about the opportunity and he’s like My mom will host you

you end up living with his sister LOL

because of that it’s barely like you’re gone

i mean he can come visit you for an extended amount of time and he gets to see his family so its like 2 in 1

in all actuality it doesn’t matter where you go, long distance with matthew is EASY PEASY!!!

i can see him being really trusting in a relationship and that makes things so much easier than not

the first time you get invited out you ask him “hey i got invited to a party tonight, is it okay if i go” and he’s like “ya why wouldn’t it be?? why are you asking me??”

okay feminist

he makes you watch anime with him over like teleparty or something </3 but it’s cute bc his chat reactions are like adorable

#3 of the “your friends love him squad”

they all ask you how you managed to find him because he literally doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re not cheating on him (and you would never do this)

and he’s all happy go lucky every time you talk

when he visits they’re in love with him (PLATONICALLY)

they all ask about his friends in the “haha do you have a brother” way and he’s like “my friend hanbin!”

so now all of your overseas friends want to date hanbin which is awkward

he will also make you buy like presents and things for his friends’/family’s birthdays

obviously with his money but he’s like “can you go to (store) and pick up (item) and then wrap it up and give it to my mom”

it’s very silly

all in all matthew is the long distance relationship you DESERVE!!!!

thank you for reading!

[max1461]

I am, as usual, a counter-example to everyone's claims about higher education on all sides of the discourse, because I have a really weird academic history.

In summary: I was identified as a gifted kid at ~5 years old. Parents didn't act on that information because they didn't think accelerated classes would be good for me. Enrolled me in what I affectionately call a "hippy school", which I attended from 1st grade all the way through 12th grade. Before high school our work wasn't even graded, and homework was optional. The first time I ever had a piece of work graded I was 15 years old, in 9th grade, and it was terrifying. I don't remember what I got. Even in high school things were still incredibly chill and flexible, and grading was lenient. The first standardized test I ever took was the SAT.

As a kid, I had a hard time learning to read. I probably have undiagnosed dyslexia. Also, because my education was so flexible, the fact that I preferred to do other things over reading meant I got more practice at those other things, probably creating a bit of a vicious cycle. I liked math, and was good at it. When I got to high school, there were not enough math classes for me—this was more a consequence of the school being small than it being a hippy school. Nothing was offered above Calc 1. So I started studying math on my own. Actually I started studying math on my own before even taking Calc 1, because I didn't want to wait. I learned about complex numbers and some other stuff from YouTube lectures, but things really took off when I found out about proof-based math and started working through a copy of Herstein's Topics in Algebra in the summer before my junior year. I learned about groups, rings, fields and whatnot, how to write proofs, etc. I loved it and decided to major in math when I got to college.

I still couldn't read regular books at a rate much faster than a couple pages an hour, and I cheated on or blew off all my English assignments. I remain remorseless and regretless about this.

Around this same time I also discovered conlanging, and through that, linguistics. Somehow I started reading linguistics papers when I could find PDFs of them; I still don't really remember how this happened, in an episodic or theoretical sense. Like, I pretty much could not read, right? But I was reading linguistics papers? I think that I was skimming them + looking at the tables + way more interested in them than in books, so I was happy to spend a few hours on them. Plus papers are shorter than books. One way or another I learned a lot of linguistics, and decided I was going to major in linguistics when I got to college.

I was also struggling with some pretty bad mental health issues in my high school years, so a lot of it went by in a blur that I struggle to remember the details of.

I took the SAT three times, over the course of like a month? Or, I think the first two times were practice tests, administered in a realistic environment because I was taking an SAT prep class. I didn't pay much attention in that class, but getting used to the testing environment was kind of wild, because as mentioned, I'd never taken a test before. The first time I took the SAT, I scored dead average. The second time was ~200 points better (this is when the test was scored out of 2400), and the final time I took it I scored... 2100 or 2200? Something in there. I just remember that I got a perfect score on the reading comprehension section. I was a faster reader at that point, but more importantly the passages on the SAT were all short, so I had time to read them. And I guess my comprehension was good.

Other than the really bad mental illness, which had little to do with school itself, I enjoyed my high school years a lot and am glad I went to a hippy school. I think it was directly beneficial to my intellectual development to get to fuck around and place my intellectual energies where I wanted to place them, and I think it was good for my social development to get to blow off responsibilities with relative impunity as a 16 year old. I don't think I would have learned higher math if I had become accustomed to learning things in a spoon-fed way from an established curriculum.

Anyway, after all that, I got into a semi-elite college. I won't say much more so that I can't be doxxed. I had a plan to double major in math and linguistics, which I did. I was actually, before going, completely terrified of having real responsibilities for the first time, of actually having to go to class, actually having to do the homework, as the professor set it out, and not being able to just sort of talk my around the parts I didn't want to do. I had never had that experience before!

Miraculously, it went perfectly fine. I had basically no trouble adjusting to this new way of life, and ended up doing very well in college. I took a lot of hard math classes, and did well in all of them, and found that I greatly enjoyed the fast-paced, lots-of-work-and-lots-of-deadlines life (completely contrary to everything I had experienced up to that point). For this and other reasons, I enjoyed college even more than high school, and had a very good time there.

Uh. But yeah I still pretty much couldn't read, like, in the way other people read. I mostly still can't. In 2020 when I timed myself I was reading at 10 pages an hour but that pace was fucking painful, like it took all my concentration and exhausted me. Books my fucking nemesis. Also got a perfect score on the GRE reading comprehension section though.

[angryschnauzer]

I realised two months have gone by since i last updated you all, i'm not even sure if anyone is interested anymore. I know i haven't been on much, perhaps sporadically coming on and mindlessly reblogging Henry stuff just for a little escape, but its intermittent at best. I had hoped to be back to writing by now, but life is still a huge pile of shit.

I'm run ragged trying to pay the bills. My wedding decorations business is halfway between slow and dead; the cost of living crisis means weddings aren't really happening, and if they are most of the items i do people are making themselves. My side gig in ebay flipping is quiet too but at least its trickling by. I don't mention this much as people get a lot of abuse over 'thrift store flippers' (Charity Shop resellers here in the UK), but right now its what's keeping my family fed. I buy clothing for £1 from the stinky dregs bin in a charity shop, wash it, mend it, resell it for £4. I'm not making millions or even thousands. I'm lucky if i'm bringing in £150 a week which barely covers our weekly food shop. Its draining that when i do eventually mention this to my friends they immediately start moaning at me that i'm the one 'ruining' charity shops and why its pushing the prices up. But when i calmly tell them its that or i don't eat they go quiet. I'm not the one pushing a 2nd hand coat for £25 which was only £20 brand new which most high street charity shops are doing. Do i like doing this? No. Do i have to? Yes. Because i sure as ain't cute enough for onlyfans.

But the majority of my time over the last couple of months has been spent caring for our son. He's 8 and has type 1 diabetes, and since school started back in September one little shit in his class has spent every waking moment bullying him. This little shit has been stabbing my son with pencils, poking him in the kidneys with whatever he has to hand, laughing and sneering at him at every opportunity even when he's just walking past. Having the adrenaline and cortisol in my son's bloodstream affects how his insulin works, and he builds up an insulin resistance because of all the other hormones in his bloodstream. I've had so many meetings with the school, and have had to get the board of governors involved because when your 8 year old kid says quietly to you "It would be better if i wasn't alive as then *Little Shit* wouldn't be able to bully me" your heart breaks into pieces.

He needs my support more than anything, so every single other thing has been put by the wayside. And its tough. He acts out at home, messes around with his dinner because he feels he needs to be able to control something, but that in turn messes up insulin dosing so i'm spending half the night dealing with highs and lows for his blood sugars. I get at most 5 hours sleep a night.

I have no more energy left. I'm not eating, because i just can't stomach it. I'm 43 and hitting menopause, but my doctor doesn't want to know because "You just need to loose some weight" (don't get be started on fat bias from the NHS).

So i'm filling my time with volunteering at school so i can be 'around' for my Little Dude. He knows that if he's having an awful day, he will find me in the office sorting through paperwork for our next fundraiser. Its not what i want to be doing, but its what i need to be doing.

One day i hope to get back to my writing. I miss being creative and i hate that i have so many stories part written/published. As the months tick by i actually end up seeing stories written by others that have the same characters/plotlines. This is no-ones fault that two stories exist on the same synopsis, it would just seem that they and I have taken the same inspiration from media at some point. But it makes me scared that if i now publish a story i started 2 years ago, i'll be accused of stealing an idea. I don't know what to do. So i just leave my WIP folder abandoned.

For everyone that has stayed with me thank you. For those that have moved onto pastures new, i wish you well and hold no malice.

I do love you all

Mama Schnauz

x

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Ok I give, I'm officially curious. I have a couple discord friends who are Unwell™️ about Twenty-One Pilots but I never paid much attention. But now! I return to tumbles dot com after months and find one of my favorite writers has also taken an interest. So now I have to know. Where do I start?

Welcome back to the tumbles-of-er, friendo, good to see your lovely icon again! Okay um, I'm going to be fully transparent, if I try to explain the lore I'm going to sound like a crazy person because I am also Unwell about them these days. The band has been slowly revealing bits and pieces via music videos and ARG-style puzzles and websites since Blurryface back in 2015? So we're talking a story that's a decade in the making more or less. Bear with me...

There's a main character named Clancy who is Doomed By The Narrative, his best friend(?)/hallucination(?)/moral guide(?) everyone calls Torchbearer, a group of rebels with a yellow flower motif, a city that's a metaphor for mental illness, a corrupt religious system based around the glorification of death run by evil bishops with cool robes, and also zombies, a dragon, and a little alien-looking guy. I mean, what more could you ask for?

If you want the real quick version, they actually made a playlist of the lore-relevant MV's in order along with a brief run-down of the story:

Now of course, this is prior to the latest album, which dropped back in May and was supposed to wrap up the story, so the final three lore-related MV's kind of cover the final act. And really, I was largely ambivalent to the lore up to then. They'd done some cool stuff with it, but I'd just never followed it that closely, I just liked their music. And then all the stuff that dropped with the most recent album just grabbed my brain and hasn't let go since! It's so fascinating and morally complex and aaaa!

So over the course of the last 5 months I wrote my super long series covering the lore from start to finish along with my own little added bits called, Sometimes We Will Fly Away. It is single-handedly the thing I am most proud of writing ever, and I won't lie, it's real good. It made me remember why I like writing at all.

And if that somehow doesn't sound too crazy for you, and you do in fact end up checking it out, I would love to hear your thoughts lol

[41319kbex]

Hell Hath No Fury (5/?)

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! It really means a lot!

This is a long chapter, very heavy on plot. It’s taken me longer to post it because I told you before my least favorite thing to write is police work…and this chapter is painfully full of it. But it is necessary. I’m sure I rushed through it because I absolutely hate writing it, but I hope it’s not so rushed that you can’t understand and enjoy the story. I hope I don’t lose any of you with this chapter.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

Days turned into a week, and a week turned into two. Beckett’s days consisted of going to work, being micro-managed by the new captain…there had been a murder case she’d caught; Gates hadn’t completely benched her, of course, and still expected her to lead her team on any case except the shooting…and then going home to work on the shooting case on her own--more often than not with at least a couple of shots of something stronger than wine, usually whiskey or vodka; it wasn’t enough to get drunk, but it was enough to take the edge off the emotional tailspin she was in.

The main component missing was Castle. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He’d been angry with her, and she’d been so insistent on both working the case and getting him safely away from the fallout of…well, her…that she’d figured he’d call her if he wanted to talk. When he didn’t, her pride wouldn’t let her call him either, no matter how much she missed him or how much having him tell her to leave had hurt her.

She had called the hospital daily to check on his condition. He’d been released almost a week ago, and when she still hadn’t heard from him, she did request a police detail put on his building for precautionary purposes, which hadn’t been difficult for her to get approved considering the circumstances of his shooting and his friendship with the mayor…but when one of the officers had informed her he had packed his car and looked like he was heading out of town, she’d pulled them off, figuring he actually was going out to the Hamptons to fully recover. She was at least relieved by that information; it meant he’d be safe from everything, including her.

The boys had kept their word, discretely sharing anything they came across regarding the shooting, but it hadn’t been much past the sketch of the shooter. On a hunch, she’d suggested the boys run financials on Montgomery, Raglan, and McAllister so they could try to find some kind of money trail…she was working on trying to piece everything together now.

She found herself thinking about how much easier it may have been with Castle’s help. Despite the fact that she didn’t usually admit it to him, his way of thinking outside the box somehow pushed her to be able to do her best work; building theory with him was second nature to her now, and she missed it. Stopping her train of thought before it could get too far out of the station,

she poured herself another glass of whiskey, but before she could take a drink she saw it–an account number with an oddly large amount of deposits…and one huge withdrawal date right before her mother’s murder. “Got you, you son of a bitch,” she murmured, the alcohol in her glass now forgotten.

Another hour and a half of research on her part and she’d discovered that the bank had closed, but she’d managed to find an old warehouse where the records had ended up. Within minutes she was on the phone to the boys, explaining what she’d found and telling them to get a warrant and meet her at address she was sending them. Grabbing her leather jacket as well as her badge and gun, she ran out her door. Finally, FINALLY she had a solid lead that was going somewhere.

xxxxx

Beckett arrived at the warehouse before the boys and remained in her car, watching the building until they showed up with the warrant, despite the way every fiber of her being wanted to go inside and find the files she needed. But she was too good of a cop; she knew if she didn’t wait for the warrant, anything she found inside would be useless. As badly as she wanted to finally find out who was behind this whole thing, she wanted justice more…so she waited.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw a man coming out of the building, which was suspicious given the late hour. Getting out of her car, she drew her gun. “NYPD, don’t move,” she identified herself. The man froze for a moment. “Show me your hands and turn around slowly.” The man did as he was told, holding up his hands and turning around with a smug smirk on his face. Her eyes widened when she realized she was looking into the face of the man from the sketch; the man who shot Castle.

“Detective Beckett…” he stated, his tone as smug as the look on his face. He was cocky, but calm.

Her jaw clenched, her finger itching to pull the trigger on the man who shot Castle if he would give her any kind of reason. “You shot my partner,” she stated, her voice dangerously low. “Tell me who is behind this.”

“You’re wasting your time, Detective. You have no idea who you’re up against,” he stated simply.

“Neither do you.” Her tone was steely as it took every bit of self-control she had to not pull the trigger. She knew she still needed information, though. Information this man had.

The man chuckled lowly. “Actually, we know exactly who we’re up against.” At that moment, a small explosion was triggered inside, knocking Beckett off her feet slightly as the warehouse was suddenly engulfed in flames.

Despite the fire, she managed to maintain her gun on the man as he started to back away slowly. “Tell me who is behind this!” she demanded again.

“First I’m going to finish getting of all the evidence…and once I’m done, I’m coming back for you, Detective. And this time, if your pretty little writer boy gets in my way, I’ll kill him too.” He kept slowly backing up into the dark.

His last words got to her. By the time she had recovered, the sirens from the fire trucks signaled their proximity and the man had disappeared into the shadows again. Staring into the dark for another long moment, she finally lowered her gun and reholstered it before running her hands through her hair.

xxxxx

“Fire department confirms there is nothing left of the files,” Esposito approached Beckett’s desk at the precinct the following morning. “The explosion happened right in the file room. Anything that wasn’t immediately destroyed burned in the fire.”

Beckett heaved a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair. “This guy is always a step ahead of me. He was right there…I had him. And then…” she trailed off, clenching her jaw and pounding her hand on her desk in frustration.

Ryan watched for a moment, understanding how hard this was for her. “Beckett…we’ll get him, ok?”

“Will we? Because he’s a damn ghost that just appears when he wants and then disappears into the ether when he needs to,” she growled in frustration. Sighing again, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know his play now. He’s getting rid of the evidence. And then he’s coming back for me,” she said lowly. “For the first time in this case, I’m going to be one step ahead of him. I’m going after him before he can come after me.”

Ryan shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to draw him out before he gets to me.”

“Beckett, do you think that’s really a good idea? Gates is already highly suspicious with what happened last night…”

She gave him a stern look. “I don’t care. This is my case…my mother’s murder…my life. I am not sitting around and waiting for them to come and take it from me,” she said angrily. “Look, I’m not asking either of you to do this with me. But I’m getting this son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else I care about.”

“Come on, you know we’ve got your back, Beckett.” Esposito shot Ryan a warning look. “Don’t we, Ryan?”

The other man nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

xxxxx

“Yo, Beckett…we caught a break,” Esposito kept his voice down as he approached her in the breakroom at the coffee machine.

She arched an eyebrow. “What did you find?”

“Surveillance cam from across the street caught our guy approaching the warehouse. I was able to track his path backward using mostly traffic cams, and found him getting out of a parked car. Turns out the car was a rental,” he explained, acting like they were having a nonchalant conversation as he was making coffee.

“Were you able to figure out where he rented it from?”

Esposito smiled. “Better than that. I have an ID. Ryan is running it down now. Guy’s a pro, so it’s most likely a cover ID, but he might have used it for something else in the city.”

Beckett nodded, keeping her back to the window. “Thanks, Espo.”

Ryan popped his head in the breakroom then. “Cole Maddox. ID is fake, but the rental company keeps a GPS tracker in its cars. It’s within a one-block radius of this address,” he held up a piece of paper.

“You guys go canvas, see if you can find his base of operations…a hotel or apartment building. Someone had to have seen something. Gates isn’t going to let me leave now, but you find him and I’ll meet you there,” she kept her voice low as she spoke discretely before grabbing her cup and heading back to her desk.

xxxxx

“Did you find him?” Beckett asked the boys, approaching their car in front of a hotel. She’d finally been able to get out of the precinct after 5PM when her shift was over and Gates was no longer watching her every move. She finished fastening her police vest around her.

“Yeah. Front desk clerk confirms Maddox is here on a one-month lease. They agreed to let us in his room,” Esposito filled her in, both men already in their own police vest. “How do you want to play this?”

She thought for a moment. “Ryan, you stay down here in case he runs out. Espo, you’re coming

with me.”

The boys nod and Esposito follows Beckett inside, guns drawn and ready. Once up at the room, Esposito gestures for the hotel employee to go once the door is unlocked. He waits for Beckett’s nod before pushing the door open and stepping inside, her right on his heels as they clear the room. “Yo, Beckett!” he called from the other room.

She followed the sound of his voice. He was standing at a table with a laptop and a bunch of police files. “What the hell?”

“These look like old police files,” he answered, looking through them. “They’re Montgomery’s old files.”

“The evidence. He’s getting rid of the evidence so it can’t be linked back to his employer…so that this whole case gets buried…” she realized.

Esposito looked up to meet her eyes. “We’ve got to get out of here…get back-up to secure all this…” he started, already heading out of the room.

Maddox was waiting on him, though, and easily disarmed him, knocking him out and dropping him down to the floor. Beckett was already coming through the door with her gun drawn too, only to end up on the floor as well, without her gun. She wasn’t out of it yet, though, grabbing her gun and quickly scrambling out of the room after him and dialing Ryan’s number as she gave chase toward the stairwell. “Ryan, he’s heading to the roof!” she yelled through the phone before hanging up so she could focus on the man.

She ran out onto the roof and slowed when she didn’t see anyone. She kept her steps slow and quiet and paid attention, looking for any sign of him. Before she knew what happened, he grabbed her from behind. She immediately tossed her head back, knocking him in the nose and causing him to lose his grip on her. She immediately took a step away and tried to aim her gun back at him, only to have him knock her feet out from underneath her, causing her to land on her back with the wind knocked out of her, her gun falling from her hands.

She pushed herself up enough to lunge at his knees as he was getting up, tackling him back to the ground. She slammed his head into the ground, trying to subdue him. “Who do you work for?” she asked angrily.

He gave a hard punch to her ribs, knocking her off him. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll never touch him,” he said lowly, taking the opportunity to get up.

She was pretty sure the hit had at least fractured a rib or two; it hurt to breathe. But she had to get up. “You shot my partner!” she growled, using her anger to fuel her as she got up and lunged

at him again, jumping on his back to try to tackle him again.

He easily threw her off his back, elbowing her hard in the ribs he had previously hit. “That was a miscalculation on my part; I didn't anticipate he was brave enough to push you out of the way; guess what I heard is true...he is sweet on you,” he replied, kicking her in the same spot on her ribs. “It’s over, Detective,” he said calmly, turning away.

It did take her a few moments to get her breath enough to push herself up this time, but she had at least spotted her gun on the ground and was able to grab it, aiming at him as she stood. “You’re right…it is over,” she said lowly.

Before she had the chance to pull the trigger herself, a single shot rang out and Maddox crumpled to the ground. Beckett instinctively dove behind a rooftop ventilation unit, hoping it would provide appropriate cover. She waited for another shot to come, but it never did. Holding onto her ribs, she tried to push herself up to try to see something, but before she could even get to her knees she heard Ryan’s voice.

“Beckett!”

“Ryan, there’s another sniper!” she yelled out the best she could. Damn, her ribs really hurt and it was getting harder to breathe.

Ryan immediately slipped behind another rooftop unit. “Backup is already on the way,” he called out to her. “Maddox?”

“Sniper shot him,” she called back.

“You alright?”

She winced as she took a deep breath. “Other than a broken rib or two, yeah…I’m good. Espo is knocked out downstairs,” she informed him.

Once ESU arrived and had cleared the surrounding area of the sniper, Beckett was able to stand and slowly walk over to the body of Maddox, holding her ribs. She was bleeding from her nose and lip, and had a few other scrapes, but was otherwise okay; the damage was pretty much localized to her ribs. Standing over the body, she was silent until Ryan approached her. “Montgomery’s old files are down there…he was trying to get rid of the evidence. We have to get those files, Ryan,” she told him.

“You go get checked out. I’ll get the files,” he promised her. “No one is going to know about Montgomery,” he added.

She winced again as she took a breath and nodded. Seeing Esposito already awake and being checked by medics as she exited the building, she was able to smile. However, seeing a very angry Captain Gates caused her smile to fade.

“Sir…” she started immediately.

Gates held up her hand to interrupt. “Get yourself checked out, Detective. Then you and I are going to have a long conversation about what it means to be off a case,” she said angrily, pointing Beckett toward the medics.

“Yes, Sir.” Beckett did have to wonder exactly how much trouble she was going to be in and hoped she would be able to mitigate any kind of trouble the boys might be in by falling on her own sword, so to speak.

Spotting Beckett about the get into an ambulance, Ryan approached and asked the medic to give them a minute. “Those files you and Espo saw are gone,” he told her lowly.

Her eyes widened at that. “ESU?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. They were gone before any of our guys got here. In fact, they couldn’t find anything indicating Maddox was ever here, aside from his body on the roof.”

She thought for a moment. “The other sniper. Maddox screwed up shooting Castle instead of me. Whoever Maddox worked for must have gotten tired of waiting for him to finish the job and took him out to clean up his mess so that the whole case gets buried again.”

“Looks that way,” Ryan nodded. He gestured for her to go ahead and get into the ambulance.

xxxxx

“Withholding evidence. Lying to a superior officer. Disobeying a direct order. What you did dishonors this city, and dishonors the badge!” Gates was angrily giving Beckett a dressing down. “You are on administrative leave, effective immediately.”

“Sir…”

“Don’t you Sir me, Detective. You’re lucky I’m only suspending you and not firing you,” she continued angrily. “You don’t deserve to wear the uniform. Now hand over your badge and gun,” she ordered.

Beckett straightened slightly, placing her gun on the desk. She looked at her badge for a little longer before she placed it on the desk.

“For all the good things I had heard about you, Detective, I have to say you haven’t lived up to them. You’ve been a disappointment since I got here,” she stated. “Oh, and Detective? Your suspension doesn’t start until AFTER your medical leave for your injuries sustained on that roof is up. I don’t want to see you back here until September. I suggest you use these 3 and a half months to get your act together and decide if you still want to wear this badge; I will not tolerate my detectives going rogue and disobeying my orders.”

Clenching her jaw, Beckett nodded. “Yes, Sir,” she replied simply through clenched teeth before leaving the office.

The boys were waiting as she exited the office. “Well?” Ryan asked.

Beckett looked at both of them and shook her head. “It could have been worse,” she admitted. “I’m out until September.”

“September?! Beckett, that’s almost 4 months!” Esposito turned back to the office.

She was upset, but the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse for the boys. “It’s fine. I knew it was coming for going against her orders; she's no Montgomery. I’ll see you guys in September, ok?” She grabbed her things from her desk and headed for the elevator.

The boys watched her leave in disbelief, staring at the elevator until the doors had closed. “This sucks,” Esposito murmured.

“Yeah it does,” Ryan agreed.

xxxxx

Castle was staring at a blank screen on his laptop. He’d been trying to write for days, but nothing would come to him. He was broken out of his staring contest with his laptop screen by his phone ringing. When he saw the caller was unknown, he almost didn’t answer it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Castle,” a man’s voice answers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a friend of Roy Montgomery’s. I’m calling about Detective Beckett. We need to talk.”

xxxxx

“Richard, you have to tell her!” Martha insisted, trying to talk some sense into her son.

“If I tell her, she won’t let this thing go! She’ll just keep running right into the line of fire!” Castle argued back.

“She’s already in the line of fire,” Martha countered. “Richard, listen to me. You haven’t spoken to her in over two weeks. She’s already investigating the shooting, she knows it’s connected to her mother’s case. You are in no condition to physically help her. Right now the only thing you can do for her is to tell her about this man.” Seeing her son about to interrupt, she held her hand up to stop him. “It’s her life, Richard. You can’t make decisions for her. You owe it to her to at least let her have all the information so she can make an informed one.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And what if I don’t like her decision?”

“Then you have a choice to make. You can stand with her, or you can move on. That’s your choice. But this…Richard, this first choice is hers.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. He knew his mother was right. She had the right to know. Maybe he’d be able to reason with her. Maybe they’d be able to figure out something together. But he had to tell her. The only problem was he wasn’t sure she would talk to him now; it had been over two weeks since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He had no idea where they stood before that point, but now he really had no clue. Picking up his phone, he clicked on her name and hoped she would answer.

xxxxx

Beckett sat alone in her apartment, trying to get comfortable. She was stubborn about taking the pain medication for the broken ribs, preferring to suffer for the time being. Between that and her head space surrounding the shooting, her mother’s case and her suspension, she was finding it increasingly difficult to relax, not to mention she had no idea what she was going to do to stay sane all summer. Maybe I should pack a bag and head up to Dad’s cabin. She was already shifting to get up when her phone started to ring. Seeing Castle’s name surprised her. They hadn’t spoken since their argument at the hospital. “Hey Castle,” she answered, trying to act like she wasn’t affected in the least by everything.

“Hey…” he started, suddenly unsure how he was supposed to talk to her. It needed to be in person, and he was in the Hamptons. “How busy are you?”

She wasn’t busy at all considering she wasn’t allowed to work until the fall, but he didn’t need to know that. “Oh you know, the usual. Why?”

He figured he might as well just be straight with her. He had a better chance of her agreeing to meet if he was. “We need to talk about the case…in person. Can you come out to the Hamptons?”

That shocked her; why was he calling her about the case? “Castle…”

“Kate, it’s important. I can’t tell you over the phone, it needs to be in person.”

She could tell from the way he was speaking to her that it was important. “Okay. I can drive out tomorrow.”

“Okay.” That hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought. He lingered a moment longer. “Uh…you could stay a few days if you wanted…” he found himself offering. He had missed her…and maybe they could talk about what was between them, assuming the argument at the hospital and what he was going to tell her hadn’t caused her to retreat back into herself again. Maybe now they could have a chance to talk, really talk, with no interruptions.

She found herself rolling her eyes. Though she supposed it was at least something to do so she wasn’t going crazy in her apartment. She thought back to the previous summer when he’d made her the same offer and she’d turned him down, only then to reconsider too late; she’d missed her shot then, did she want to risk missing her shot now? “Text me the address. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castle.” She hung up without giving him an answer one way or the other, figuring she’d take a bag and decide after she heard what he had to say whether or not she would stay for a few days. After all, it wasn’t like she had to be back at the precinct.

xxxxx

I told you guys this was a long one, full of plot. Hopefully you all made it here to the end! Next chapter will be better, I promise…Castle and Beckett will be in it together and no real police work!

[nottawriter]

20 questions game

Thank you @luthordamnvers for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Individual stories: 10 (some are series and 1 translation)

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

Individual stories: 337,399

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Supergirl- Primarily, Arrowverse with the main focus on Supercorp, but other ships as well

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

PRIDE and Prejudice (Super gay retelling of the classic), Tell Me It’s Not Too Late (Post-S4 finale), I Believe in a Thing Called Love (Entire Season 6 episodic rewrite), Wouldn’t It Be Nice (50 First Dates Movie AU/Continuation), What Has Been Lost (Human/Original AU Series).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually. I appreciate getting the comments, so I try to repay that effort.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

When She’s Gone, the Darkness Comes

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

PRIDE and Prejudice… though it could be said Lena and Kara both get very happy endings in Speak Now (18+ Explicit Sexual Content)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really “hate”

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

See Question 7 lol… I do have smaller sex scenes in other fics, but nothing that compares in scope

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

My Human/Original AU Series is an amalgamation of original story work with various locations, character names, character descriptions, and/ or conversations, pulled, used, and/ or referenced from throughout all of the CW Arrowverse and DC Comics Universe, though primarily Supergirl. It’s not really crazy, but it is intricately woven throughout the storyline.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, my I Believe in a Thing Called Love into Spanish.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not yet, but I’m not opposed.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Supercorp... There are others (Avatrice, Caitvi, lots of wlw really), but nothing compares to the hold they still have on me.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I plan on finishing all of my actual WIPs that have writing associated with them. There are a couple of WIP ideas I have that I’m not sure I’ll ever get to… A Christmas fic, one loosely based on the movie D.A.R.Y.L., a couple with other main relationships

16. What are your writing strengths?

No idea… Someone once told me they love the way I sometimes write a singular scene from different POVs, telling the story in pieces to eventually for the whole… Not sure that’s a strength. I guess plotting out the story details then?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Lol stealing @luthordamnvers‘s answer: Actually writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

English is the only language I really know, so in the past when I’ve needed to write in a different language (I’ve done Spanish and Icelandic), I used Google translator- which I now know is kind of bad at what it’s supposed to do. I need to ask a native speaker to check on the Spanish I’ve done, but I don’t know any Icelanders. For Kryptonian, I use the Doyle dictionary but I don’t know if I do the grammar/ syntax right or not.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supergirl/ Supercorp.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh, this one’s hard… Um, I like a couple of my fics for very different reasons, but I guess the Human/Original AU Series is the one that’s taken the most effort and I’m most proud of… It also started as my first, so you can see how I’ve grown as a writer as it continues which is fun/interesting/embarrassing for me lol

Tags, but no pressure: @casualsavant @itsalliebitheway @fyonahmacnally @natalievoncatte @villainousunsub @vox-ex

[thesinglesjukebox]

MIRANDA LAMBERT - "WRANGLERS"

Use promo code "JUKEBOX" at checkout to get 20% off your first pair of jeans...

[5.36]

Alfred Soto: She didn't write a note or a word for this, and I can tell. It's as if someone typed "Gunpowder and Lead" and "Mama's Broken Heart" into ChatGPT and out came "Wranglers." The brawny production hinders: every rote syllable gets punched up. [4]

Aaron Bergstrom: Miranda Lambert knows her way around a great revenge song, so I have no idea how something as bloodless as "Wranglers" made it past quality control. This sounds like if "Kerosene" was taken over by a hedge fund. [4]

Nortey Dowuona: Someone needs to get Audra Mae on the record on how long Wranglers take to burn. We would all learn a great deal. I mean, they're jeans, how long do they -- wait. [10]

Ian Mathers: See, other jeans burn like this [crowd goes "ooooh"] but Wranglers burn like this [crowd loses it, uproarious laughter]. Wranglers be burnin', amirite folks? [crowd goes absolutely feral with joy, rips up seats, destroys stadium] [6]

Katherine St. Asaph: As a bar, "Wranglers take forever to burn" sounds badass until you think about it -- so you're what, waiting around your no-good ex's house for a couple hours watching yourself fail to commit arson? As a piece of maybe-product placement, it's no "Wrangler butts drive the cowgirls nuts." [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Just as schlocky as Chris Stapleton's take on prestige-country RAWK; just as charming, too -- you get the sense that Lambert knows she could do a little better than replicating the feel of "The Chain" for the Taylor Sheridan aesthetic universe, but she's clearly having fun. The drums unfortunately sound like Stadium Arcadium-era Red Hot Chili Peppers, but everything else is gorgeously-wrought in the way that Lambert's best singles sound: it's not subtle and brilliant in the way that "Bluebird" or "Vice" were, but even unsubtle Lambert can be an exceedingly good time. [7]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The way that the chorus descends -- as if engulfed by flames and consumed by vitriol -- is satisfying as hell. This one is for your inner pyro.  [7]

Taylor Alatorre: One of the purposes of a song like "Wranglers," even if Lambert will deny this, is to demonstrate how much more "real" its performer is than Nashville newcomers like, for instance, Dasha. Which is fine on its own: gatekeeping, in forms both benign and ugly, has been a country tradition since it was still being called "hillbilly music," and it makes more sense to police the authentic in a genre whose very name embeds it in the soil. Lambert certainly sounds more comfortable tossing around the signifiers of battle-scarred, woman-scorned country than Dasha does -- maybe too comfortable, if all the instant "Kerosene" comparisons are any indication. But there's one fatal flaw that "Wranglers" shares with "Austin," and it's the intended wham line in the chorus that serves only to douse the narrative in the cold waters of an anti-climax. Steer your mind away from the familiar abstractions of vengeance and female autonomy, and actually picture what Lambert is asking us to picture here: does a pile of faded blue jeans burning in the desert sun for half an hour longer than expected really sound all that satisfying to observe? Why write a revenge fantasy where it can be assumed that the revenger is impatiently checking her watch every few minutes, waiting for the fantasy to be over already? [3]

Jonathan Bradley: A far cry from “Kerosene” or “Gunpowder and Lead,” what’s supposed to be a barn-burner turns out to be a damp squib due to a muddy mix that chokes the guitar in indistinct haze, taking Lambert’s own voice with it. Soggy kindling results in little heat and so much smoke you can’t make out much of anything at all. [4]

Mark Sinker: A pop song is after all no more than a cluster of commodities circulating within a set of interlinked markets -- so how is a Brit listener my age (me) still faintly rattled when said song’s burden is a straight-up major brand-name placement? As if that’s somehow not allowed (or anyway not really cricket). Blame the BBC’s straight-up long-term ban on any hint of advertising in anything they broadcast, and the penumbras of ideology beneath and alongside that ban, the smoke and the steel shaping my inner mind: it’s like The Who never Sold Out; like the late Nick Kamen kept his laundrette Levis on to Marvin’s “Grapevine,” like Sigue Sigue Sputnik never sold literal ad-space slots on their first LP (for L’Oréal, EMI, i-D magazine and more); it’s like Run DMC went barefoot. I escaped it enough that Vybz Kartel, Gaza Slim and Popcaan excitedly hymning their nice new furry suede shoes is one of my all-time favourite Jukebox entries. Sadly this is no “Clarks”: after a misleading Morricone lens-flare it slumps quickly into charred serge and claggy ash. No ethical immolation under capitalism! [5]

Michael Hong: If this is Miranda's attempt at returning to being the shit-talker and the fire starter, well, it sounds like she's got her kindling stacked too neatly and forgotten her matchbook at home. [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Tagged by the amazing @asteria-argo

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

One! Or two if you count original fiction as a fandom. Or three if you also count the couple of sentences of Black Sails fic that I'll hopefully get around to expanding into a full fic at some point.

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I started writing The Hedgehog's Dilemma on August 2, 2023, so about 9 months. Before that, I exclusively wrote original fic from ages 8 to 22.

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Read, because reading is fast and writing is slow.

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

For a long time, I had a terrible case of writer over-complication syndrome, a thing I made up just now: every story I planned somehow ended up with 5+ different story lines which were at best loosely connected and each had their own cast of characters and sometimes world-building. As in, I once put "character goes to space and turns into a demigod(?)" and "ethics of dealing with a slow-acting zombie plague where people gradually transform in to zombies over the course of ~10 years" in the same story, then got overwhelmed and never wrote it. I still have a bit of this tendency, but I've gotten much better at axing plotlines that don't need to be there in the planning stage.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don't know how weird it is, but I did spent more time than was probably reasonable trying to figure out what type of houseplant Higgins had in his box of office supplies in 2x02. I also found out that there are multiple record-breaking balls of twine in the US (largest ball of sisal twine by a community; largest ball of sisal twine by one person; heaviest ball of twine; largest ball of nylon twine) and figured out the route Ted and Beard could have taken on a road trip to see all of them.

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love the long, detailed type with quotes and literary analysis, but I also love the ones that are clearly just someone's instinctive reaction to the chapter, like the person who commented "oh no" on chapter 5 of THD.

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I love writing time loop/other time travel stories, and I honestly think it comes from my background studying history. One of the main ideas in history is of contigency: that events aren't the product of a single cause but rather of the confluence of many other events interacting in a specific way. Time travel in general and time loops in specific, where the characters restart each time with a clean slate, let me play around with the cause and effect in stories in a way that I really enjoy.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I struggle a bit with fluffy, slice of life-type stories where everyone's mostly happy and everything's basically going well, which is why Flightless Birds is actually the fic that gave me the most trouble.

9. What is the easiest type?

Occasionally I'll write these short, introspective, sort of stream of consciousness fics where it's a bit ambiguous what's going on and the narrator's usually having some degree of a bad time — think All I Have (And a Little More) or Ephemera.

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I'm currently shopping around for new writing platforms in anticipation of losing access to the university's Word license after I graduate. I'll probably go with LibreOffice since it's free and works decently well.

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Basically any Black Sails canon divergence fic because of how many moving pieces there are in the plot. I floated the hypothetical on here a while ago of what would go differently if season 1 Flint magically got end of season 4 Flint's memories because I'd love to write something with that premise but am daunted by figuring out an answer to that question.

12. What made you choose your username?

I am not good at naming things, so my ao3 username/username for main, the-sea-anemone, was basically me being like "what's a cool animal? Sea anemones, I guess? Username acquired." kvetchinglyneurotic comes from the fact that I initially created this side blog to complain about the ending to Jamie's arc with his dad, and also from the fact that I was in the hyperfixation stage where you think about the thing a solid 90% of the time while also being like. okay I do actually have other things to do so can we please focus on that instead.

I'm not sure who's been tagged yet so I'll go with @thirteenemeraldcats @jamietarttsnorthernattitude @sighonaraa @abubblingcandle

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

QTA: Queer Teacher Alliance

so, homophobia ft. queer teacher alliance? incredible fic, I have gone back and reread that thing at least five times becuase the comfort is immaculate 👌 anyway, becuase of that, I have returned with another lil request for u to consider! after the whole homophobic argument mess, virgil has to get his class switched, and surprise surprise, his new teacher for that period is one of the other sides! (idk which one, any would be chill) I was thinking a couple little snapshots (maybe a sort of 5+1 deal except I dont know what the +1 would be haha) of v in that class, possibly a little h/c sprinkled in becuase i am a weak man with a primal need for soft things :) thank u very much for considering! I love reading your works, and I geeked out a totally reasonable amount when u answered my last request <333 - vinbee631

Read on Ao3

Warnings: homophobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3666

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change. Come on, it's high school, they don't do much to take care of you. He thinks he'll be lucky to get away with that one day of being slightly coddled by his surprisingly accommodating also gay teachers and then it'll be back to grind.

But he gets taken out of all the classes he has with that teacher, Kyle, and Leslie.

He still has all the same teachers, just at different times. It's…honestly?

That would've been enough.

But then this week happens.

It starts off with art class. Mr. Dagenheart's introducing a new unit that's supposed to be about 'identity' or something super vague that's basically just an excuse for people to do whatever they want and bullshit something at the end. Of course there are gonna be some try-hards and people that are actually good at art that are gonna be amazing, but Virgil's just looking to coast through this and not try too hard.

Then come the whispers.

Gossip in high school spreads like wildfire, so it's no surprise that everyone knows why Virgil was transferred out of the other class. Don't get him wrong, some people came up to him and were very much all that was shitty and fucked up and I'm sorry, tell me if anyone else does that and I'll kick their asses, which was nice, but this is still high school and his standards are practically nonexistent after everything.

So when 'identity' gets dropped as the new theme, he's not surprised in the slightest when people start giving him little looks.

Fuck. Is this where I have to embrace my identity as the Gay Kid? Am I expected to make some big thing about how my 'identity' is being gay and all that shit?

I don't even like rainbows that much.

Even so, when everyone splits up and starts brainstorming ideas for what sort of art piece they want to create, Virgil finds himself idly writing the words 'gay' and 'rainbow' down on his piece of paper as he starts randomly sketching something reminiscent of all the actual good pieces of art he's seen.

"Virgil?"

"Oh. Hey, Mr. Dagenheart."

He takes a seat on the stool next to him. "That looks cool."

"Thanks. Totally didn't steal the idea from something sick I saw on Instagram yesterday."

Mr. Dagenheart snorts. The scratch of Virgil's pencil occupies him for a little longer before he silently points to the two words. Virgil glances up to see a silent expression that definitely means are you sure?

Glancing around to make sure no one else is looking at them, he lowers his voice. "Aren't I…supposed to?"

"Supposed to what?" Virgil nods to the words. "No, Virgil. You're not 'supposed' to do anything. If that doesn't feel like you, don't do it. That's the whole point."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. This unit's supposed to be—well, it's supposed to help keep the art budget low—"

Virgil snorts.

"—but no, it's you. Whatever bits of you that you feel comfortable putting into the world and sharing in this classroom. There's no right way or wrong way to do it."

He glances around too and leans a bit closer.

"And there's no one way to be gay, V," he says quietly, "it's okay."

Virgil looks back down at the piece of paper and slowly erases the word rainbow, but leaves gay.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Dagenheart nudges him. "What medium do you think you wanna work with this time?"

"…not gonna lie, I'm really tempted by your suggestion of just throwing paint at a wall."

"Now you're speaking my language."

2.

But, sure. Mr. Dagenheart is Mr. Dagenheart. He's an art teacher, he can get away with being…well, himself.

But Mr. Mackenzie? Virgil expects it to be the whole 'we don't talk about this, we don't acknowledge it, we just be professional and don't concern ourselves which such things.'

So when quantum physics rolls around and Virgil's frantically trying to remember the difference between a quark and a lepton, he's really not expecting one of the other students to ask Mr. Mackenzie to make good on a promise.

"Come on, sir, you've been saying you'll explain why classical mechanics is heteronormative since we did constant acceleration!"

Hold up.

What now?

Mr. Mackenzie sighs, adjusting his glasses. "I did promise that, didn't I?"

A general clamor goes up around the classroom and he chuckles, raising his hands for quiet and moving through the presentation until he finds a slide on the double-slit experiment.

"Now," he says, "I cannot take credit for this idea or explanation. It belongs to an incredible person named Amrou al-Kadhi, who is also a drag performer under the name Glamrou."

"Go off."

"Oh, hell yes."

"I didn't have talking about drag queens on my science-class bingo card but I'm not complaining."

Virgil sits up a little more.

"But what the gist of their explanation is this: Newtonian physics—classical mechanics, is very strict and regulated. If I do A, B happens, and so forth. It's why I had you all study those formulae until you were sick of them." He smiles as a general grimace forms. "But once we get to subatomic particles, quantum physics, everything gets thrown out the window. It's why I told you to be prepared for me to make you angry when I explain how everything I just taught you was wrong."

He points to the slide.

"Now, we've just gone over this experiment, yes?"

A general 'yes' and Virgil nods.

"A key component of it is that electrons, which are particles, seem to behave like waves. Light behaves like both a particle and a wave depending on how it's examined. Classical mechanics tells us that it should go through either the left slit or the right slit but sometimes…" He gestures to the picture. "It goes through both, and we don't really understand why."

Something in his face softens.

"What al-Kadhi explains is that as queer people, we are constantly defying these sorts of regimented rules and 'laws,' so to speak. We question and search for answers in a world that doesn't want to make it easy for us to find them. So when you study quantum physics and find that the most fundamental of particles disrupt and disobey all the 'natural laws,' it can be somewhat comforting."

His eyes meet Virgil's for a moment and he almost smiles.

"Besides, I think it's far more interesting that explaining that if you push something off a bridge, it's going to hit the ground very hard."

The class laughs and Virgil laughs too. Huh…nonbinary physics…

"I definitely recommend looking up the video where they talk about it. It's an excellent understanding of a rather complex idea and they articulate it wonderfully."

"You should make that our next homework assignment."

"You know what, maybe I will."

3.

But...sure. Okay. Fine. It's just an explanation or a one-off thing, right? It isn't like they're actually being taught that it's queer, it's just, y'know, a cool way of thinking about it.

History class isn't Virgil's favorite class, but it isn't his least favorite either. Maybe 'cause Mr. Everheart has this way of explaining things that actually makes it seem like one, he understands what he's teaching and two, that he respects you enough as an adult to tell you the truth.

"If you study history, there will be times when you're uncomfortable. There will be times when you're outraged. There will be times where you really don't want to study the things that you're studying," he'd said once, "and if you never have any of those feelings, you probably aren't studying history."

They're talking about recent American history and they get onto the topic of Reagan. Virgil mentally wills himself not to whisper what the fuck every two seconds as they start going through things, and then someone says this:

"Why is everyone so upset about Reagan's presidency? I mean, we survived it, didn't we?"

Mr. Everheart gets quiet. He takes his glasses off and polishes the lenses before putting them back on.

"You're right," he says lowly, "people did survive Reagan's presidency. In fact, most people you hear about survived Reagan's presidency. But what have we repeatedly said about history?"

"It's written by the victors?"

"Yes, but also by the survivors."

He sits up a little more and nods to the syllabus in front of him.

"I was planning to wait until we got there to bring it up, but I suppose we can do a little bit now. How many of you know about the AIDS crisis?" A few hands go up. "How many of you know how bad it was?"

Some of the hands go down.

"How many of you know what AIDS used to be called?"

The two hands that had been raised are lowered slowly. Mr. Everheart hums.

"Who can tell me what AIDS stands for?"

"Uh," says one of them, "it's like, autoimmune deficiency syndrome?"

"Close. Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. This name came into popular use in 1982 when it was coined by the CDC. It went by a few names before then, but the most widely used—including by government officials and mass media outlets, was GRID. Any ideas as to what that stood for?"

A few people shook their heads. One person raised their hand. "General-Related Immune Deficiency?"

"No. Anyone else?"

When nothing follows, Virgil's grip on his pencil tightens.

"GRID stood for Gay-Related Immune Deficiency."

Shocked noises come from around the room and he holds up his hand.

"And because it mainly affected the queer community, people of color, and other disadvantaged socio-economic groups, almost no one took it seriously. The reason it still has the stigma it does is because of that. So we don't have a lot of that history because the people who would be a part of it, died."

Silence.

"Now, don't get me wrong. There are still people that lived and tell their histories. I encourage you to seek them out. I don't want to sound as if I'm saying that everything was lost, but I want you to think about why we don't hear about it. And why when we say we 'survived' things like Reagan's presidency, it's because the people who did, by and large, weren't at risk from it at all."

4.

By the time he gets to Mr. Prince's class, he's just waiting for it to happen.

One of his favorite things about learning with Mr. Prince is that the man will go on tangents that have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with whatever he's supposed to be teaching them and then, fifteen minutes later, find some way to link it back to whatever they're studying and it is some kind of witchcraft. He also encourages people to just kind of talk at him when they think they've got something, which means everyone is taking notes from each other as much as they are from him.

But he wasn't exactly expecting it to come up like this.

"So," Mr. Prince says, "The Gay Gatsby—wait."

The whole class explodes into laughter as Mr. Prince pinches the bridge of his nose. Virgil can't help it, he joins in too, watching the shake of his head as he smiles sheepishly at them.

"Freudian Slip?"

"I mean," another student manages, "you're not wrong."

"No, I'm not. Matter of fact—how much time do we have left?"

"Like, ten minutes?"

"That's good enough. We're on schedule." He claps his hands and sits on the desk. "Gatsby: Gay or Not Gay? Discuss."

"Oh my god," Virgil's friend scoffs, "so gay."

"Pink suit? Fancy parties that he personally invites just Nick to? A weird compulsion to be with Daisy even though he obviously doesn't love her anymore?" Someone else throws their hands up. "That's a gay if I've ever seen one."

"Excuse you, this is disaster bisexual erasure and I will not stand for it."

"Also," another friend says, "are we gonna talk about how Nick and Jordan are gay-lesbian solidarity? They're both each other's beards."

"Wait, Nick's gay?"

Mr. Prince sighs. "Okay, honey, if you can give me a heterosexual explanation for whatever that missing scene is with Mr. McKee, I'll give you a 100 right now."

"No, no way, that's the most not-a-sex-scene sex scene I've ever read."

"Also, no straight man talks about another straight man like that."

"Isn't there a line where Jordan says that Nick looks like he's 'having a gay time' and then the next page is all about Gatsby's smile?"

"Putting aside the other use of the word 'gay,' yeah, no, this man is not straight."

"Pink suit, guys, pink. Suit."

"Also Tom hates him for some other reason."

"Wait, hang on." Virgil steeples his fingers in front of him. "Who's seen the movie?"

"Me."

"I have."

"Leonardo De Caprio's in it, of course I've seen it."

"Do you guys remember the scene with the party in New York with Tom and Myrtle and everything? You know that one line that Tom says about knowing Nick likes to watch and remembering that from college?"

"He says what?"

"Wait, wait, is that in the book?"

"No, it's not. They just put that in for the movie. What the f-heck was that all about?"

"Now, now," Mr. Prince says as the class starts to debate what implications that has, "let's cite our sources, shall we? Do we think this clip exists on YouTube?"

"Oh, it totally has to."

"Wait, can we watch it? Hell yes!"

5.

He's staying behind on a Friday again, just to finish up this last part of the art thing he's doing for Mr. Dagenheart, when he looks up to see the rest of them come in.

"Uh. Hi?"

"Virgil, yes, Remus said you'd still be here." Mr. Prince waves. "How's it coming along? It looks great!"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Are you working through lunch?" Mr. Mackenzie tilts his head. "Have you eaten already?"

"Well, no, but Mr. Dagenheart said it was okay if I—"

Of course, then said teacher bursts out of the supply closet and scares the hell out of him.

"You guys brought food, right?"

"It's your week, Re."

"Oh, shit."

"Language!"

"Virgil," Mr. Mackenzie says quietly, "would you mind if we ate in here while you work?"

"Uh, no, that's fine, I don't care. I can, um, I can leave if you—"

"No, no, you're working. We'll try to be as minimally disruptive as possible."

Mr. Prince snorts. "Speak for yourself."

Mr. DeLuca smacks his shoulder and Virgil quickly tries to focus on his work again.

This is fine. This is fine. This is so fine.

"Virgil," Mr. Dagenheart calls, "remember, you can work in here as long as you eat, so chomp, chomp over there, yeah?"

"I remember!"

"Good."

Sure, Virgil thinks as he gets politely mother-henned by his queer teachers into eating lunch and taking a break from his work, this might as well happen. This week's already been so goddamn weird.

+1.

Mr. DeLuca is fucking scary.

He doesn't get mad in the I'm-gonna-be-loud-and-shouty way but he gets really quiet and really serious and cold, like he's gonna rip you apart with just his words and death-stare. And he's currently shredding two of Virgil's classmates over throwing temper tantrums about the homework.

Just shut up. Don't look up. Don't fucking move. Just stare at the numbers. Just look at the numbers.

"I have yet to behold mature and reasonable students," the icy voice says, "what I see are petulant, rude, obnoxious, ill-behaved children."

He's not talking to you. Just shut up and don't move and he won't look at you.

"Now that didn't have to happen in front of all of your friends and peers, but it did. Because you had to make fools of yourselves. Now, I understand that you have some studying to catch up on and all of you—"

Virgil just manages not to flinch.

"—have a test next week. I presume I don't have to tell you that it is mandatory."

A few brave souls whisper 'no, sir,' and there's a faint rustling from people shaking their heads.

"Mm. I suggest you get to it, then. You two—" don't flinch, not you— "will go and speak with Mr. Johnson, and I will join you in half an hour. Virgil?"

What the fuck did I do? Did I do something wrong? Shit, fuck—

"Stay behind for a moment."

A few of his friends shoot him pitying looks as they flee from the classroom. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, sitting up straight as he puts away all of his math stuff. He's frantically running through his head of anything he could've done wrong—maybe his grades weren't as good as they should be, maybe he made a dumb mistake on the last homework—shit, was he talking too obviously in class? He was just trying to explain a thing—

He jumps when Mr. DeLuca sits down across from him.

"Did Mr. Everheart speak to you this morning?" Virgil nods. "So, you understand that the others are currently in a meeting with the Dean to discuss repercussions for the teacher who encouraged and participated in the homophobic bullying."

He nods again.

"What would you like to see happen?"

What? Excuse him? He doesn't fucking know. He shrugs.

Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow. "Conversations do work best when both participants speak."

"Sorry, I, um, I don't know, I—I didn't think anything would happen, so I, um, didn't think about it. Sorry. I don't know."

There's a pause, then he leans forward. "Are you alright, Virgil?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm good."

"Don't lie to me."

There's nothing in the world that could've stopped Virgil's flinch at that. He stares down at his hands. Fuck, fuck, what do I say? I can't tell the truth, what the fuck am I supposed to do? He's gonna fucking eviscerate me, he's gonna say I'm being dramatic, I can't—I can't—

The sudden scrape of a chair makes him flinch again, head jerking up to see Mr. DeLuca getting up and walking toward his desk. A hysterical part of Virgil's brain sees his hand flash near the ruler and truly panics, only for him to pick up a tissue box instead. He walks back over and places it on the table before crouching—crouching next to Virgil.

"What's wrong, sweetie," he asks in a soft voice that gives Virgil whiplash, "tell me?"

Don't cry. Don't fucking cry.

"I—I—um, I—"

"You look scared," he says when Virgil can't do anything more than stutter. Virgil nods shamefully. "Yeah? Is that it, you're just scared?"

Not much of a 'just' about it, but yeah.

"What's scaring you?"

Now, this is a trap. He has no idea what the actual fuck he's supposed to say, so he just stares at him. When Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow, he gestures feebly around at the classroom.

Confusion flickers across his face until Virgil sees him realize what he's so afraid of.

"Is it me," he asks quietly, "are you scared of me? Because of what just happened?"

Shame burns his face and he nods, trying to hide. Mr. DeLuca makes another one of those confusing soft noises and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Virgil, I didn't mean to scare you. You're not in trouble, I'm not mad at you."

"I-I know." He sniffles and quickly wipes it away. "Sorry, I promise I'm not doing this on purpose. I'm not trying to be dramatic."

"I know, sweetie. It's okay." He nudges the tissue box closer. "If you need to cry, it's okay. Go ahead. Do you want a moment?"

"N-no, you can—you can stay."

And he does, gently rubbing Virgil's shoulder and letting him be a total fucking mess all over his table. It's weird and confusing and so at odds with the scary teacher who just humiliated two students for crying too and he's not gonna question it anymore.

"Listen," he murmurs when Virgil's all done with his meltdown, "I get mad when students throw fits and do things on purpose to try and get their way or draw attention to themselves. I do not get mad when people get upset and need to cry. And if anyone ever gives you a hard time or makes fun of you for needing to cry, you come and you tell me and I'll be scary at them, alright?"

"Okay."

He smiles and ruffles Virgil's hair. "Good. Why don't you and I sit here for a while and calm down, then we can talk?"

"…don't you need to go be scary?"

"You're more important right now. Mr. Johnson's used to handling those two. And, Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

Mr. DeLuca gives him a look. "I am happy to be scary for you if you ever need it."

Virgil frowns. "For me?"

"Yes, Virgil, if anyone ever decides to be an ignorant bigot, I am more than happy to be scary for you."

Okay. So.

Maybe things can get better after all.

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[radarsteddybear]

Highlights (or should I say lowlights?) from the Making of Frozen II documentary on Disney+:

It is important to note that the documentary begins 11 months from the film's premiere. At this point, the movie's already been in production for like 4 years.

The female director (Jennifer Lee) looks to be inches away from a mental breakdown the entire time

Jennifer Lee is also the film's writer and at one point describes getting up at a quarter to five every day so that she can write from 5am-7am, get her daughter to school, goes to work all day, comes home, does whatever is needed at home, then writes some more. On Saturdays, she writes from 5am-1pm. I don't know anything about the process of making an animated (or non-animated, for that matter) film, but it seems absolutely unhinged to me that so much script writing is required this late in production. Especially coupled with how much of the film's plot and motivation are still unknown at this point.

Jennifer Lee was also promoted to Chief Creative Officer or something at some point in there, so she has a million and one things to do for that on top of everything for Frozen II.

So, yeah. She seems to be in a constant state of being on the verge of tears and is only holding it together through sheer willpower.

Disney seems to be trying to pass this off as joy and happiness and excitement about pieces of the film finally coming together, and Lee probably believes that's what it is, too, but I think this woman just needs some sleep.

The script finally gets locked 5 months out from the film's premiere. Which, like, I totally get having it open for edits along the way, but this was. a lot more than just edits.

It takes them ages to figure out who/what the voice calling to Elsa is and where she's following it to, which is like. the entire plot of the film. And in my opinion (and from what I remember, having only seen the film once back when it came out), as a result, this is one of the weakest plot points in the whole movie, which is really unfortunate because it has everything else it needs to hit really solidly.

5 months from the premiere, they keep talking about how everyone's putting in 14 hour days 6 days a week, and they keep referring to it as overtime, but I have no idea whether or not the animators and visual effects artists and everyone else working on the film actually get paid overtime? I sure hope so (which leads to another question: is the money actually worth it?), but in this economy, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

At one point, one of the supervising animators talks about how he spends the whole day split between meetings and supporting the animators so he has to come back to work after putting his kids to bed to actually get his own animating done. He describes this as a "treat" because he enjoys animating so much.

Disney (and other studios, I'm sure) needs to get their act together re: division of labor and organizing everyone's time, wow.

The visual effects artist who did Elsa's dress transformations in both Frozen I and II: "In Frozen I, I had a year. But this, it's been...four days." (Note: It does end up being more than 4 days, but, uh...not by much.)

I seriously think the movie, especially the story, would have been better if everyone could have taken like. a month off from work

The film's editor talsk about working 14-15 hour days, getting up at 3am so he can get to work by 3:30, use the on-site gym for half an hour, then start editing by 4am. Whoever's in charge of setting all these timelines and whatnot is in desperate need of taking a course in proper time management because this is unhinged.

I wonder if all the Frozen II statues/decor Disney put up around the animation studio towards the end of production come out of the film's budget.

It's fun to get to watch the actors record their lines and songs, though.

As was watching the animator who did part of Kristoff's song with all the reindeer put videos of her own face in the scene to figure out how she was going to animate them all.

[youhideastar]

Deleted scenes from "scarcely trust my candid heart"

Hello! I know it's been a couple months since I posted new fic, but the beta/beta installment of Wangxian A/B/O Bingo, scarcely trust my candid heart, is up now! 7 down, 2 to go. Below are a few deleted scenes from the new fic - they contain spoilers, so I'd read the fic first.

By “deleted scenes,” I really mean “four different versions of the ending, plus one actual deleted scene.” Why did it take me five versions to get an ending I liked?

Well, this fic has an inherent tone problem. It’s 33% farce and 66% smut, and the style changes pretty drastically when we make the switch here from farce to smut. The sections are much longer—indeed, the smut is just one long continuous section, whereas the farce is broken up into dozens of smaller moments. The smart thing to do would have been to separate them out into two separate fics, honestly. But I didn’t want to do the smart thing. I really love a lot of pieces of the smut scene, and I think they’d lose a lot from being taken out of the context of the farce sections. The fic I wanted to write, in my heart, had both. So instead of performing a separation, I revised and revised and revised to try to make the tone of the smut match the tone of the farce as closely as I possibly could—and I took more than 5 whacks at the ending, because the ending has to do so much work in tying the smut back to the farce at the very end and making it feel like one cohesive fic.

So here’s Attempt No. 1:

“At first, I just wanted Lan Zhan’s attention. And then I wanted Lan Zhan to like me, and then I wanted Lan Zhan to—”

Beat.

“What?”

Beat.

“Keep me, maybe,” Wei Ying says, looking nervous. “Be my… my special person, like we talked about.” Beat. She fidgets. “Lan Zhan is so good. Nobody else is as good. Nobody else could be. So… that’s why. But if Lan Zhan doesn’t—”

“I will keep Wei Ying.”

“Oh, you will, will you?”

“Mn.”

No interest in locking someone up—

“If—only if Wei Ying wants to be kept. By me.”

“Mm, I do,” Wei Ying says without hesitation, eyes clear and bright. “As long as I can keep Lan Zhan, too.”

“Mn.”

“Mn?”

“I… yes. Wei Ying may. Keep me.”

A wordless noise of delight, and a kiss.

“Lan Zhan.” With mischief.

A look of what?

“Lan Zhan likes me. Lan Zhan liked me all along! Even when she was being so mean, and glaring at me and calling me shameless—”

Disgruntled look.

“You can’t put that spell on me now, Lan-jiejie – if you did, I couldn’t kiss you, and you’d be sad.”

The last few lines, and the callback to the “not wanting to lock someone up” part of the very first scene of the fic, made it into the final posted version. But this version of the ending didn’t go far enough in tying the ending back to the beginning, and it was also kind of redundant – the characters say the same thing multiple times.

Note also that the emphasis here is on Wei Ying and what she wants – nothing wrong with that in the abstract, but it draws this version even farther away from the beginning of the fic, which is very single-mindedly focused on Lan Wangji and what she wants, and it draws even farther away from the thematic content (such as it is), which is about Lan Wangji coming to accept that her previous understanding of herself was wrong.

So let’s take a look at Attempt No. 2:

Lan Wangji’s ears burn, but she is pleased – makes me wet, not made. A piece of evidence to add to the case she has started to build: the case that perhaps this was not purely a whim for Wei Ying. That she has, perhaps, had the kind of thoughts about Lan Wangji that have so plagued Lan Wangji about her.

Eventually, Wei Ying loses interest in her licking and flicks her gaze over Lan Wangji’s body, smiling. “Let me clean us up, ah, Lan-jiejie?”

Lan Wangji frowns. She is enjoying the physical proof of Wei Ying’s pleasure and is in no hurry to have it wiped away.

Wei Ying presses a placating kiss to her shoulder. “I know, I know, it feels nice now! But it won’t feel nice when it’s all cold and sticky.”

“Hm.” Lan Wangji is not convinced. But she allows it.

When Wei Ying is finished wiping them both down with a wet cloth, she rises from the bed and turns away. Reaching for her discarded inner robe, she begins to cross the room to the other bed.

Lan Wangji’s breath catches, frozen in a sudden panic—perhaps she was wrong. Again. Perhaps this was nothing but a whim, or a—a pedagogical exercise. Perhaps her fantasies of Wei Ying in the sunlight were misplaced after all.

Wei Ying is crouching by the side of the bed now, looking worried. “Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”

Nothing, Lan Wangji almost says. It is—mortifying, to want these things. She has been wrong about a great deal, but she was not wrong about that.

But—she does want them. And simply assuming that she cannot have them: she has traveled that road before. It is unbecoming for a Lan disciple to accept ignorance, out of cowardice. Be diligent and undaunted in the pursuit of knowledge.

“Wei Ying said I can have—a special person,” she begins.

“You can,” Wei Ying confirms, with an encouraging smile. “For sure you can.”

“Wei Ying said she liked me so much.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying bites her lip. Pink blooms on her cheeks, and she looks away. “I—do.”

“Wei Ying said we could do this every day.”

Wei Ying’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I remember that part.” Then she smiles, mischievous. “But I won’t say it sounds bad.”

Lan Wangji nods, satisfied. She knows what she needs to know about Wei Ying. And she thinks she knows what she needs to know about herself.

“I told Shufu, when I was twelve years old, that I was not interested in marriage.”

“Is that how all this started?”

“But I was wrong.”

“O-oh. Uh…”

“I am interested in marriage.” Beat. “I do not wish to be alone always.”

“Lan Zhan…”

“And giggling is… acceptable.” LWJ very reluctant to admit this. “If it is Wei Ying.”

“Well. That’s very big of you.”

“Mn.”

“If Wei Ying does not wish to marry me…”

No desire to lock someone up…

“Well, it’s a little sudden!” QB “But I—do like Lan Zhan, so much. So.” Beat. “Engaged? Maybe?”

Lan Wangji decides not to inform Wei Ying that they are already engaged.

Big chunks of this—especially the very end—made it into the final version. But overall, this attempt is too long, and has too many inflection points – in other words, too many points where Lan Wangji has to make a decision. Each one makes the others seem less important. You can tell, reading this, that it’s sort of 3 separate endings mashed together.

There are things I like about it, though! The focus is on Lan Wangji this time – that’s correct. I love the “pedagogical exercise” bit (it will resurface later) and “fantasies of Wei Ying in the sunlight.” And I still really like the idea of Lan Wangji grappling with the mortifying ordeal of coming clean about her feelings, and needing to stiffen her own spine a bit with some fortifying quotations of the principles.

If Attempt No. 2 was two steps forward, Attempt No. 3 is one step back:

Quietly, she says, “Lan Zhan can have a special person. Does she maybe… want me to be her special person? At least—for a little while?”

Lan Wangji hesitates. There is only one possible answer to this question, but it is mortifying.

Wei Ying stiffens at her delay, and pulls away. “Of course, Lan Zhan only just learned about all this!” she says, with desperate brightness. “Of course, Lan Zhan will want to—to play the field, try out all the other beautiful jiejies who—”

“Wei Ying. We are married.”

Wei Ying’s jaw drops. For a moment, there is silence.

Then, faintly, she says, “M-married?”

“Mn.”

“Lan Zhan. ‘Mn’ is not an explanation.”

I love some Wei Wuxian insecurity, especially when Lan Wangji then turns around and nukes said insecurity, but this isn’t really the fic for that. And it puts the spotlight back on Wei Wuxian’s thought processes instead of Lan Wangji’s, which is a step in the wrong direction. That said, “Mn is not an explanation” is a line I’m definitely stealing from myself and using in some future fic. It’s too good to sit on the scrap heap.

On to Attempt No. 4:

“Is that how all this got started,” Wei Ying mutters, looking fascinated.

“Mn. Due to… comments made in response to that statement, I—believed that marriage was not available to me. That—intimacy of this kind was not available to me.”

Beat.

“In Cold Pond Cave. When I tied us together with my ribbon.”

“Oh, shit, that—that’s a Lan marriage?”

“Mn.” Slight pause. “An engagement at the very least.”

“Lan Zhan!! I can’t believe you married me without telling me!” QB “Lan Zhan, you are the most frustrating person in the world – you married me and I didn’t even think you liked me, you made me crazy trying to get your attention—”

“Wei Ying.” Beat. “Even when I believed I did not want to be married. I married you. Even when I believed I did not want—lovemaking. The thought of you made me want.”

“Lan Zhan.”

“Even when I believed I wanted to be alone. I looked forward to your company.”

“Lan Zhan, you…”

“Even giggling is… not so bad. If it is Wei Ying.”

Beat.

“Okay, well, I—didn’t really understand the giggling part, but—I think… I think Lan Zhan does want to be my special person. And not just for a little while.”

“Always.”

The focus is back on Lan Wangji’s thought processes, which is right, and we’ve brought back the “I do want marriage, don’t want to be alone, giggling is okay” triptych from Attempt No. 2, which makes it into the final fic. Ultimately, this version is just trying to do too much – it depends a lot on cleanness of rhetorical rhythm (“even when I thought I couldn’t want X, I wanted it with you. Even when I thought I couldn’t do Y, I tried to do it with you,” etc.), but couldn’t maintain it because it required all these Lan Wangji mental asides, which broke up the flow. I really liked the beat of expressly stating that Lan Wangji drove Wei Wuxian just as crazy as Wei Wuxian drove her, but the final version manages to imply that without having to insert a bunch of Wei Wuxian dialogue when the focus is supposed to be on Lan Zhan’s realizations about herself.

Hopefully you agree that the posted version of the ending is the best of the options on display, but even if you don’t, I’m still happy – all 5 versions are my writing, so it’s a compliment either way!

Finally, an actual deleted scene:

In the morning, while Wei Ying is still sleeping, Lan Wangji composes and posts a letter to her uncle. It is short, and to the point.

Shufu,

Wangji writes to correct a misimpression. She is, in fact, interested in marriage. The misimpression arose from the fact that, regrettably, Wangji is only interested in marriage to Wei Ying. Wangji apologizes most sincerely for the misunderstanding. And for her taste.

With deepest respect,

Lan Wangji

I considered putting this at the very end. It would have put a cute little bow on the story, given Lan Qiren another moment in the sun (I feel a little bad that we never come back to him after that first scene, where he’s trying so hard but his advice is totally misconstrued!), and hopefully it makes you laugh.

But first of all, it’s redundant – the important thing is Lan Wangji admitting to herself that her life was ruled by this misunderstanding about betas. Having her admit it to a third party who doesn’t show up that much in the fic doesn’t add much value. And second, it’s out of character because it’s disloyal. Lan Wangji might think in her internal narration that being only interested in Wei Ying is “regrettable,” but she’s MUCH too loyal, classy, and courteous to ever say that to another person (and she wouldn’t mean it even to herself). And she certainly wouldn’t insult Wei Ying by apologizing for her taste in partners.

I hope you enjoyed and/or found this interesting! Always let me know if you have questions or thoughts to share, or if you’d like to see a more detailed commentary on a part of this fic or one of my others. I enjoy doing it, and I’m happy to chat!

[f1-disaster-bi]

I have a little idea for an ask that hasnt let me go. It‘s couple sebson or sewis i cannot decide who adopts little lando. 

For the angst Lando has a bit of a tragic backstory. Basically when he was 2 or so he was in a fatal car accident with his parents (a drunk driver hit them from the front) which left him an orphan. He was seriously injured and the doctors were not able to save his leg and they still had trouble to stabilise him. When he came into the foster care system nobody really cared that he didn’t get a fitted prosthetic nor did they care that he never really learned how to walk again. Even though he was involved in a car accident, which he doesn’t really remember he still loves everything around cars and he’s incredibly intelligent for his age. So when he is around 5 years old he can already read and loves engineering stuff. 

The man that runs the foster home would always put on f1 during the weekends and once it was on you couldn’t get lando away from the screen, he would memorise strategies and everything. 

Aston Martin does a campaign where they are raising money for children in the foster care system and lando‘s home gets invited to the british grand prix. For aston themselves it’s more of a thing where they can get good publicity bit seb loves having these kids around and is so patient in showing them everything. Lando isn’t on the tour because at that point he has grown out of his prosthetic leg and no one cared to replace it so he stayed with the owner of the home. When they get back and seb realised that Lando wasn’t on the tour he ask the guy why and he just snarls that lando can’t walk that’s why. Seb is a bit taken aback but tried to find sth to tell lando he pretty sad that he wasn’t allowed to go with the rest. Seb : „Can you give me a tip on how to get a podium for you guys today?“ and expecting a cute answer like „drive faaast“ but Lando launches into an elaborate strategy plan that actually makes sense and seb is in awe. 

Soon though they have to say goodbye.

In the evening seb talks to his partner about Lando. They’ve been thinking about adopting at some point in the near future and were already approved, they just thought they would adopt a baby, but his partner can see in sebs eyes that lando has captured a piece of sebs heart with his shy but excited babbles. 

So they go visit him and they are pretty sure that this is the one. They take him home and they do have some angst along the way bc Lando’s stump had not been treated properly for years and they need to do some intense pt etc. 

But still a lot of fanily fluff. 

Well, that got out of hand but i’ll send it to you anyway. I hope it doesn’t bother you that it’s this long and it’s understandable bc english isn’t my first language. <3

Anon, I absolutely adore this 🥹😭

Lando not remembering the crash or what he lost, he just knows that he can't really wall and that his leg comes off. Him telling the Foster home when he starts out growing the leg and it hurts but there's no money to get him a new one fitted, so they just keep him in a wheelchair and stop taking him to physio because "it's easier this way"

Lando isn't bothered by it because he loves reading and writing and drawing, and most of all, watching cars go fast and thinking of ways to make them go faster. For his birthday, they get him some books on cars and f1 that are kid friendly but Lando devours them

So by the time he meets Sebastian, Lando is absolutely enamoured and thinking of strategies and telling everyone that he meets he's gonna work in F1 one day. He doesn't notice the pitying looks he gets cause he's busy planning.

When he gets told where they're going, he's so excited but then they get there and it isn't accessible so Lando can't do parts of the tour he wanted to. He's just sitting with the Foster worker that likes him or tolerates him the most and he's so sad until Sebastain comes over and he comes alive. Just this tiny kid telling Seb a strategy to do well in the British go and Seb is like "oh" 🥹

I can just see Seb going home to Jenson, just gushing about this little kid he met and how cute and amazing he is. Jenson just getting a little smile because "Should I set up some visits?" and it hadn't even occurred to Sebastisn that they could possibly adopt Lando.

So they set about doing it, and they're just enamoured with this smart little kid with the cutest smile who can match Seb in talking about cars and strategies.

Just picture them watching Lando learning to walk, and telling him that they can get him an adapted kart if he wants to learn to kart so "you can plan more amazing strategies to help Seb go fast"

They'd just make the sweetest little family

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

Hell Hath No Fury (5/?)

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! It really means a lot!

This is a long chapter, very heavy on plot. It’s taken me longer to post it because I told you before my least favorite thing to write is police work…and this chapter is painfully full of it. But it is necessary. I’m sure I rushed through it because I absolutely hate writing it, but I hope it’s not so rushed that you can’t understand and enjoy the story. I hope I don’t lose any of you with this chapter.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

Days turned into a week, and a week turned into two. Beckett’s days consisted of going to work, being micro-managed by the new captain…there had been a murder case she’d caught; Gates hadn’t completely benched her, of course, and still expected her to lead her team on any case except the shooting…and then going home to work on the shooting case on her own--more often than not with at least a couple of shots of something stronger than wine, usually whiskey or vodka; it wasn’t enough to get drunk, but it was enough to take the edge off the emotional tailspin she was in.

The main component missing was Castle. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He’d been angry with her, and she’d been so insistent on both working the case and getting him safely away from the fallout of…well, her…that she’d figured he’d call her if he wanted to talk. When he didn’t, her pride wouldn’t let her call him either, no matter how much she missed him or how much having him tell her to leave had hurt her.

She had called the hospital daily to check on his condition. He’d been released almost a week ago, and when she still hadn’t heard from him, she did request a police detail put on his building for precautionary purposes, which hadn’t been difficult for her to get approved considering the circumstances of his shooting and his friendship with the mayor…but when one of the officers had informed her he had packed his car and looked like he was heading out of town, she’d pulled them off, figuring he actually was going out to the Hamptons to fully recover. She was at least relieved by that information; it meant he’d be safe from everything, including her.

The boys had kept their word, discretely sharing anything they came across regarding the shooting, but it hadn’t been much past the sketch of the shooter. On a hunch, she’d suggested the boys run financials on Montgomery, Raglan, and McAllister so they could try to find some kind of money trail…she was working on trying to piece everything together now.

She found herself thinking about how much easier it may have been with Castle’s help. Despite the fact that she didn’t usually admit it to him, his way of thinking outside the box somehow pushed her to be able to do her best work; building theory with him was second nature to her now, and she missed it. Stopping her train of thought before it could get too far out of the station,

she poured herself another glass of whiskey, but before she could take a drink she saw it–an account number with an oddly large amount of deposits…and one huge withdrawal date right before her mother’s murder. “Got you, you son of a bitch,” she murmured, the alcohol in her glass now forgotten.

Another hour and a half of research on her part and she’d discovered that the bank had closed, but she’d managed to find an old warehouse where the records had ended up. Within minutes she was on the phone to the boys, explaining what she’d found and telling them to get a warrant and meet her at address she was sending them. Grabbing her leather jacket as well as her badge and gun, she ran out her door. Finally, FINALLY she had a solid lead that was going somewhere.

xxxxx

Beckett arrived at the warehouse before the boys and remained in her car, watching the building until they showed up with the warrant, despite the way every fiber of her being wanted to go inside and find the files she needed. But she was too good of a cop; she knew if she didn’t wait for the warrant, anything she found inside would be useless. As badly as she wanted to finally find out who was behind this whole thing, she wanted justice more…so she waited.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw a man coming out of the building, which was suspicious given the late hour. Getting out of her car, she drew her gun. “NYPD, don’t move,” she identified herself. The man froze for a moment. “Show me your hands and turn around slowly.” The man did as he was told, holding up his hands and turning around with a smug smirk on his face. Her eyes widened when she realized she was looking into the face of the man from the sketch; the man who shot Castle.

“Detective Beckett…” he stated, his tone as smug as the look on his face. He was cocky, but calm.

Her jaw clenched, her finger itching to pull the trigger on the man who shot Castle if he would give her any kind of reason. “You shot my partner,” she stated, her voice dangerously low. “Tell me who is behind this.”

“You’re wasting your time, Detective. You have no idea who you’re up against,” he stated simply.

“Neither do you.” Her tone was steely as it took every bit of self-control she had to not pull the trigger. She knew she still needed information, though. Information this man had.

The man chuckled lowly. “Actually, we know exactly who we’re up against.” At that moment, a small explosion was triggered inside, knocking Beckett off her feet slightly as the warehouse was suddenly engulfed in flames.

Despite the fire, she managed to maintain her gun on the man as he started to back away slowly. “Tell me who is behind this!” she demanded again.

“First I’m going to finish getting of all the evidence…and once I’m done, I’m coming back for you, Detective. And this time, if your pretty little writer boy gets in my way, I’ll kill him too.” He kept slowly backing up into the dark.

His last words got to her. By the time she had recovered, the sirens from the fire trucks signaled their proximity and the man had disappeared into the shadows again. Staring into the dark for another long moment, she finally lowered her gun and reholstered it before running her hands through her hair.

xxxxx

“Fire department confirms there is nothing left of the files,” Esposito approached Beckett’s desk at the precinct the following morning. “The explosion happened right in the file room. Anything that wasn’t immediately destroyed burned in the fire.”

Beckett heaved a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair. “This guy is always a step ahead of me. He was right there…I had him. And then…” she trailed off, clenching her jaw and pounding her hand on her desk in frustration.

Ryan watched for a moment, understanding how hard this was for her. “Beckett…we’ll get him, ok?”

“Will we? Because he’s a damn ghost that just appears when he wants and then disappears into the ether when he needs to,” she growled in frustration. Sighing again, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know his play now. He’s getting rid of the evidence. And then he’s coming back for me,” she said lowly. “For the first time in this case, I’m going to be one step ahead of him. I’m going after him before he can come after me.”

Ryan shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to draw him out before he gets to me.”

“Beckett, do you think that’s really a good idea? Gates is already highly suspicious with what happened last night…”

She gave him a stern look. “I don’t care. This is my case…my mother’s murder…my life. I am not sitting around and waiting for them to come and take it from me,” she said angrily. “Look, I’m not asking either of you to do this with me. But I’m getting this son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else I care about.”

“Come on, you know we’ve got your back, Beckett.” Esposito shot Ryan a warning look. “Don’t we, Ryan?”

The other man nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

xxxxx

“Yo, Beckett…we caught a break,” Esposito kept his voice down as he approached her in the breakroom at the coffee machine.

She arched an eyebrow. “What did you find?”

“Surveillance cam from across the street caught our guy approaching the warehouse. I was able to track his path backward using mostly traffic cams, and found him getting out of a parked car. Turns out the car was a rental,” he explained, acting like they were having a nonchalant conversation as he was making coffee.

“Were you able to figure out where he rented it from?”

Esposito smiled. “Better than that. I have an ID. Ryan is running it down now. Guy’s a pro, so it’s most likely a cover ID, but he might have used it for something else in the city.”

Beckett nodded, keeping her back to the window. “Thanks, Espo.”

Ryan popped his head in the breakroom then. “Cole Maddox. ID is fake, but the rental company keeps a GPS tracker in its cars. It’s within a one-block radius of this address,” he held up a piece of paper.

“You guys go canvas, see if you can find his base of operations…a hotel or apartment building. Someone had to have seen something. Gates isn��t going to let me leave now, but you find him and I’ll meet you there,” she kept her voice low as she spoke discretely before grabbing her cup and heading back to her desk.

xxxxx

“Did you find him?” Beckett asked the boys, approaching their car in front of a hotel. She’d finally been able to get out of the precinct after 5PM when her shift was over and Gates was no longer watching her every move. She finished fastening her police vest around her.

“Yeah. Front desk clerk confirms Maddox is here on a one-month lease. They agreed to let us in his room,” Esposito filled her in, both men already in their own police vest. “How do you want to play this?”

She thought for a moment. “Ryan, you stay down here in case he runs out. Espo, you’re coming

with me.”

The boys nod and Esposito follows Beckett inside, guns drawn and ready. Once up at the room, Esposito gestures for the hotel employee to go once the door is unlocked. He waits for Beckett’s nod before pushing the door open and stepping inside, her right on his heels as they clear the room. “Yo, Beckett!” he called from the other room.

She followed the sound of his voice. He was standing at a table with a laptop and a bunch of police files. “What the hell?”

“These look like old police files,” he answered, looking through them. “They’re Montgomery’s old files.”

“The evidence. He’s getting rid of the evidence so it can’t be linked back to his employer…so that this whole case gets buried…” she realized.

Esposito looked up to meet her eyes. “We’ve got to get out of here…get back-up to secure all this…” he started, already heading out of the room.

Maddox was waiting on him, though, and easily disarmed him, knocking him out and dropping him down to the floor. Beckett was already coming through the door with her gun drawn too, only to end up on the floor as well, without her gun. She wasn’t out of it yet, though, grabbing her gun and quickly scrambling out of the room after him and dialing Ryan’s number as she gave chase toward the stairwell. “Ryan, he’s heading to the roof!” she yelled through the phone before hanging up so she could focus on the man.

She ran out onto the roof and slowed when she didn’t see anyone. She kept her steps slow and quiet and paid attention, looking for any sign of him. Before she knew what happened, he grabbed her from behind. She immediately tossed her head back, knocking him in the nose and causing him to lose his grip on her. She immediately took a step away and tried to aim her gun back at him, only to have him knock her feet out from underneath her, causing her to land on her back with the wind knocked out of her, her gun falling from her hands.

She pushed herself up enough to lunge at his knees as he was getting up, tackling him back to the ground. She slammed his head into the ground, trying to subdue him. “Who do you work for?” she asked angrily.

He gave a hard punch to her ribs, knocking her off him. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll never touch him,” he said lowly, taking the opportunity to get up.

She was pretty sure the hit had at least fractured a rib or two; it hurt to breathe. But she had to get up. “You shot my partner!” she growled, using her anger to fuel her as she got up and lunged

at him again, jumping on his back to try to tackle him again.

He easily threw her off his back, elbowing her hard in the ribs he had previously hit. “That was a miscalculation on my part; I didn't anticipate he was brave enough to push you out of the way; guess what I heard is true...he is sweet on you,” he replied, kicking her in the same spot on her ribs. “It’s over, Detective,” he said calmly, turning away.

It did take her a few moments to get her breath enough to push herself up this time, but she had at least spotted her gun on the ground and was able to grab it, aiming at him as she stood. “You’re right…it is over,” she said lowly.

Before she had the chance to pull the trigger herself, a single shot rang out and Maddox crumpled to the ground. Beckett instinctively dove behind a rooftop ventilation unit, hoping it would provide appropriate cover. She waited for another shot to come, but it never did. Holding onto her ribs, she tried to push herself up to try to see something, but before she could even get to her knees she heard Ryan’s voice.

“Beckett!”

“Ryan, there’s another sniper!” she yelled out the best she could. Damn, her ribs really hurt and it was getting harder to breathe.

Ryan immediately slipped behind another rooftop unit. “Backup is already on the way,” he called out to her. “Maddox?”

“Sniper shot him,” she called back.

“You alright?”

She winced as she took a deep breath. “Other than a broken rib or two, yeah…I’m good. Espo is knocked out downstairs,” she informed him.

Once ESU arrived and had cleared the surrounding area of the sniper, Beckett was able to stand and slowly walk over to the body of Maddox, holding her ribs. She was bleeding from her nose and lip, and had a few other scrapes, but was otherwise okay; the damage was pretty much localized to her ribs. Standing over the body, she was silent until Ryan approached her. “Montgomery’s old files are down there…he was trying to get rid of the evidence. We have to get those files, Ryan,” she told him.

“You go get checked out. I’ll get the files,” he promised her. “No one is going to know about Montgomery,” he added.

She winced again as she took a breath and nodded. Seeing Esposito already awake and being checked by medics as she exited the building, she was able to smile. However, seeing a very angry Captain Gates caused her smile to fade.

“Sir…” she started immediately.

Gates held up her hand to interrupt. “Get yourself checked out, Detective. Then you and I are going to have a long conversation about what it means to be off a case,” she said angrily, pointing Beckett toward the medics.

“Yes, Sir.” Beckett did have to wonder exactly how much trouble she was going to be in and hoped she would be able to mitigate any kind of trouble the boys might be in by falling on her own sword, so to speak.

Spotting Beckett about the get into an ambulance, Ryan approached and asked the medic to give them a minute. “Those files you and Espo saw are gone,” he told her lowly.

Her eyes widened at that. “ESU?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. They were gone before any of our guys got here. In fact, they couldn’t find anything indicating Maddox was ever here, aside from his body on the roof.”

She thought for a moment. “The other sniper. Maddox screwed up shooting Castle instead of me. Whoever Maddox worked for must have gotten tired of waiting for him to finish the job and took him out to clean up his mess so that the whole case gets buried again.”

“Looks that way,” Ryan nodded. He gestured for her to go ahead and get into the ambulance.

xxxxx

“Withholding evidence. Lying to a superior officer. Disobeying a direct order. What you did dishonors this city, and dishonors the badge!” Gates was angrily giving Beckett a dressing down. “You are on administrative leave, effective immediately.”

“Sir…”

“Don’t you Sir me, Detective. You’re lucky I’m only suspending you and not firing you,” she continued angrily. “You don’t deserve to wear the uniform. Now hand over your badge and gun,” she ordered.

Beckett straightened slightly, placing her gun on the desk. She looked at her badge for a little longer before she placed it on the desk.

“For all the good things I had heard about you, Detective, I have to say you haven’t lived up to them. You’ve been a disappointment since I got here,” she stated. “Oh, and Detective? Your suspension doesn’t start until AFTER your medical leave for your injuries sustained on that roof is up. I don’t want to see you back here until September. I suggest you use these 3 and a half months to get your act together and decide if you still want to wear this badge; I will not tolerate my detectives going rogue and disobeying my orders.”

Clenching her jaw, Beckett nodded. “Yes, Sir,” she replied simply through clenched teeth before leaving the office.

The boys were waiting as she exited the office. “Well?” Ryan asked.

Beckett looked at both of them and shook her head. “It could have been worse,” she admitted. “I’m out until September.”

“September?! Beckett, that’s almost 4 months!” Esposito turned back to the office.

She was upset, but the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse for the boys. “It’s fine. I knew it was coming for going against her orders; she's no Montgomery. I’ll see you guys in September, ok?” She grabbed her things from her desk and headed for the elevator.

The boys watched her leave in disbelief, staring at the elevator until the doors had closed. “This sucks,” Esposito murmured.

“Yeah it does,” Ryan agreed.

xxxxx

Castle was staring at a blank screen on his laptop. He’d been trying to write for days, but nothing would come to him. He was broken out of his staring contest with his laptop screen by his phone ringing. When he saw the caller was unknown, he almost didn’t answer it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Castle,” a man’s voice answers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a friend of Roy Montgomery’s. I’m calling about Detective Beckett. We need to talk.”

xxxxx

“Richard, you have to tell her!” Martha insisted, trying to talk some sense into her son.

“If I tell her, she won’t let this thing go! She’ll just keep running right into the line of fire!” Castle argued back.

“She’s already in the line of fire,” Martha countered. “Richard, listen to me. You haven’t spoken to her in over two weeks. She’s already investigating the shooting, she knows it’s connected to her mother’s case. You are in no condition to physically help her. Right now the only thing you can do for her is to tell her about this man.” Seeing her son about to interrupt, she held her hand up to stop him. “It’s her life, Richard. You can’t make decisions for her. You owe it to her to at least let her have all the information so she can make an informed one.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And what if I don’t like her decision?”

“Then you have a choice to make. You can stand with her, or you can move on. That’s your choice. But this…Richard, this first choice is hers.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. He knew his mother was right. She had the right to know. Maybe he’d be able to reason with her. Maybe they’d be able to figure out something together. But he had to tell her. The only problem was he wasn’t sure she would talk to him now; it had been over two weeks since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He had no idea where they stood before that point, but now he really had no clue. Picking up his phone, he clicked on her name and hoped she would answer.

xxxxx

Beckett sat alone in her apartment, trying to get comfortable. She was stubborn about taking the pain medication for the broken ribs, preferring to suffer for the time being. Between that and her head space surrounding the shooting, her mother’s case and her suspension, she was finding it increasingly difficult to relax, not to mention she had no idea what she was going to do to stay sane all summer. Maybe I should pack a bag and head up to Dad’s cabin. She was already shifting to get up when her phone started to ring. Seeing Castle’s name surprised her. They hadn’t spoken since their argument at the hospital. “Hey Castle,” she answered, trying to act like she wasn’t affected in the least by everything.

“Hey…” he started, suddenly unsure how he was supposed to talk to her. It needed to be in person, and he was in the Hamptons. “How busy are you?”

She wasn’t busy at all considering she wasn’t allowed to work until the fall, but he didn’t need to know that. “Oh you know, the usual. Why?”

He figured he might as well just be straight with her. He had a better chance of her agreeing to meet if he was. “We need to talk about the case…in person. Can you come out to the Hamptons?”

That shocked her; why was he calling her about the case? “Castle…”

“Kate, it’s important. I can’t tell you over the phone, it needs to be in person.”

She could tell from the way he was speaking to her that it was important. “Okay. I can drive out tomorrow.”

“Okay.” That hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought. He lingered a moment longer. “Uh…you could stay a few days if you wanted…” he found himself offering. He had missed her…and maybe they could talk about what was between them, assuming the argument at the hospital and what he was going to tell her hadn��t caused her to retreat back into herself again. Maybe now they could have a chance to talk, really talk, with no interruptions.

She found herself rolling her eyes. Though she supposed it was at least something to do so she wasn’t going crazy in her apartment. She thought back to the previous summer when he’d made her the same offer and she’d turned him down, only then to reconsider too late; she’d missed her shot then, did she want to risk missing her shot now? “Text me the address. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castle.” She hung up without giving him an answer one way or the other, figuring she’d take a bag and decide after she heard what he had to say whether or not she would stay for a few days. After all, it wasn’t like she had to be back at the precinct.

xxxxx

I told you guys this was a long one, full of plot. Hopefully you all made it here to the end! Next chapter will be better, I promise…Castle and Beckett will be in it together and no real police work!

[karalynlovescake]

2023 writing list

Not exactly a New Years resolution, as those don't often pan out, but more of a personal checklist. Please feel free to stroke my ego by asking me about any of these. If I remember I'll update with links as I finish.

I did not expect to start writing again in 2022, and the fact that I did is completely because of Sandman and the amazing tumblr fandom for it. So. Things I would like to write/finish in 2023:

1.) Black Unicorn AU: it has languished while I put off rereading the source material and write other things. I know HOW it ends but I don't like the ending scene I've written and until I do it won't click. But no one else is going to write this one so we'll keep working on it.

2.) He Would Not Say That: which has expanded to the point where I'm overwhelmed by it and overthinking the morality of fucking your boyfriend's dream subjects, which is a buzzkill because it was supposed to be very un serious sex comedy. Hob would give Chidi Anagonye a massive stomach ache if I could justify the crossover.

3.) Crack one-shot: Come Live With Me and Be My Cat - a spin-off of love to Avelera’s amazing fic and inspired by that great picture that @twottie-m8 did of Hob throwing Cat!Dream at the Corinthian

4.) Some kind of SandOmens side piece PROBABLY attached to Least of These so we can have a good fun "you built a what to whom" reaction from Aziraphale and Crowley.

4a.) The Next Level - wrote this instead, a very soft fluffy little piece where Dream asks Aziraphale and Crowley for advice on being the type of friends who hold hands. We'll see if that scratched my itch to write SandOmens.

5) Actually, let’s throw The Least of These on this list. Didn’t include it before because I started it in Nov/Dec, but it was SUPPOSED to be a soft smutty 5k and now it is 25k and is more plot than smut, and has taken up more of my time than I anticipated

6) As of yet untitled longfic #1: if published will be two separate works, part one a setup of "Dream shows up every couple of years for sex, but in a different disguise every time because he thinks he's smart" and part two is your standard fishbowl rescue/let's rewrite season 1, because we like them. I want this to be better than I feel I'm capable of writing but I keep plonking away at it, and it's 16k words already, which is too much for me to give up on.

7) A Secret Third Thing: (not actual title) where I come to terms with the fact that in killing off Morpheus by having him put half his soul in the Corinthian I accidentally made an OC that I'm kind of interested in.

8) Honeymoon piece: I don't want to write the wedding, that sounds exhausting, but Hob wants to honeymoon somewhere he hasn't been where they can just be themselves, and Dream takes him to a little side project he, Delirium and Destruction started a few centuries back: a friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while everyone pretends to sleep. The King of Nightmares is a minor celebrity in Nightvale, and he gets to show off his new husband. Silly.

8a) I did, in the end, write a wedding, if a rather hasty one, so we have: Then maybe, maybe, maybe you'd stay which was written almost entirely in 72 hours in a tiny hotel room in a foreign country 6000 miles from home, after my husband's passport got stolen 15 hours before we were supposed to fly home, thus turning the end of our dream vacation into nearly a literal nightmare. Apparently I stress write. You learn things when you travel.

9) The Financial Crimes of Hob Gadling, only of I can think of a way to do it that shows off my special interest without publishing a "How to crime" guide.

10) Longfic #2, working title "All the Things That Lie Undone" - loosely based off the plot of a favorite out of print smutty historical romance novel. Basic plotline is worked out, but so far all that's written so far is the first two chapters and one sex scene.

11) Longfic #3 which has eclipsed all desire to work on Longfic #2, which will hopefully be my Centennial Husbands Big Bang entry.

12) Anything I want, there are no rules, I have permission to have fun and make myself feel happy.

[dangerously-human]

Because I'm having feelings about my own WIPs but they are, alas, in progress, and I need to holler about them a bit, here is a list! This is just the Lockwood & Co stuff I'm actively working on at the moment; I've got prompts and other lingering projects for SGA, Fringe, Farscape, Community, and Endeavour that I haven't forgotten about, but for now, L&C has fully taken me captive and I'm not complaining. Mostly I'm posting this because I'm not ready to post any of the fics themselves yet and I wanted an excuse to yammer on about them to myself, but this is certainly an invitation to ask questions or request snippets while I work on these projects, too.

Living With the Ghost of You (ch. 3): Scrivener title "unsteady (drunk lockwood fic)", aka the drunk Lockwood angst fic. I've legitimately made myself cry multiple times with this one; everything about the time between The Hollow Boy and The Creeping Shadow hurts. Next and final chapter is Holly POV, and continuing to stretch my ability to bridge plot points without infodumping. This fic has had me digging deep to wrap my head around canon, which is awesome, because I had no idea just how much I was missing on first read-through (especially taking Lucy's impressions at face value). I'm also considering a happier post-canon companion fic with Lucy and George teasing Lockwood for being a total lightweight at a DEPRAC party or something...

Not Even a Doorknob Between You: Scrivener title "jessica necklace," aka the conversations with Jessica fic. Started out as me pondering how I would go about filling a suggestion I saw on here for a 5+1 fic of the skull overhearing Lockwood talking about Lucy, and I was like, okay, but when would Lockwood actually admit anything out loud to himself for the skull to even overhear? (I do still love that prompt, I'm just probably not the right person to tackle it. I love reading Skull snark yet have no skills for it myself.) Then I thought, "Oh, I bet Lockwood told Jessica he was going to give her necklace to Lucy, and was all, 'Listen, I do remember all those times you yelled at me not to touch your stuff, but this is different,' and it's like he's asking her for forgiveness and permission to move on piece by piece." And then I had feelings again about that "In the House With No Doors" poem as being the exact vibe after Lockwood first invites George and Lucy into Jessica's bedroom, and I wanted so badly to use that as a title that this tiny oneshot spiraled into a 5+1 fic instead, and I made myself cry with it a couple times but I've also made myself giggle a bit and I think it really encompasses a surprising range of emotions + The Sibling Experience.

Woke Up in a Safe House Singing: Scrivener title "locklyle library," aka the couch cuddles fic. Title is not set in stone yet, and I know that's an overused lyric title, but come on, for a fic that is equally about Portland Row itself and a discussion of marriage, what could fit better? This one is pure cotton candy to write, no tears, only squee. It is a return to Lucy's POV (my beloved), it's a little bit silly and a whole lot of sweet, and I love it so much. I wrote this purely because I have no visual art skills and my mental image of Lucy and Lockwood reading on the sofa together and occasionally poking each other with a fuzzy-sock-clad toe had to go somewhere.

[autumnalwalker]

December Book Dragon Challenge: Master Post

And thus I embark on @ren-c-leyn's #december-book-dragon-challenge.

My plan is to spotlight a different writer each day. First up, @fearofahumanplanet.

I'll be updating this post with links to posts as I go.

Current planned schedule (if anyone would like to be taken off the list, please let me know):

1 @fearofahumanplanet: 1, 2, 3 2 @1legitconnor: 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 3 @memento-morri-writes: 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 4 @somealienquill: 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 5 @ceph-the-writing-spook: 22, 23, 24, 25 6 @aquadestinyswriting: 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31 7 @nikkywrites: 32, 33, 34, 35

8 @theimperiumchronicles: 36, 37, 38 9 @affectionatemeconopsis: 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45 10 @ghost-town-story: 46, 47, 48, 49 11 @catharticallysarcastic: 50, 51 12 @on-noon: 52, 53, 54 13 @talesofsorrowandofruin: 55, 56 14 @blind-the-winds: 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65

15 @tc-doherty: 66, 67, 68 16 @wildswrites: 69, 70 17 @writingpotato07: 71, 72, 73, 74 18 @lockejhaven: 75, 76, 77, 78 19 @ryns-ramblings: 79, 80 20 @dontjudgemeimawriter: 81, 82 21 @ren-c-leyn: 83, 84

(It turns out that embedding 40+ links breaks tumblr's numbered list format and prevents you from saving a post, due to surpassing the 4096-characters-per-block limit, hence the weird formatting above.)

And also, links to easily finding my stuff for anyone who wants to reblog it for this challenge. (This part was originally a reblog, but now I'm editing it in because it turns out edits don't show up in reblogs and I wanted both this and the above list pinned at the same time.)

The Archivist's Journal:

My main WIP. A slice-of-life story about waking up on a fantasy tropical island being told over the course of a year in the form of daily journal updates. Mostly fairly chill, just living life one day at a time, but with some occasional angst, social anxiety, and supernatural spookiness.

I do all my posting on my side blog @thearchivistsjournal. Or if you want to read from the beginning, here's the chronological posting.

At the time of this reblog, that story is at 169 days (170 will be up in a few hours) and a bit over 151,000 words (and counting).

Empty Names:

My attempt to get practice with more traditional prose writing. An urban fantasy story in which a world-hopping adventurer attempts to set up a sword-and-sorcery style adventurer's guild in a modern world where "adventurer" isn't considered a legitimate profession. Has what I suppose one might call "genre-typical violence" with fighting monsters and such.

Here's the masterpost for it. I'm trying to do a weekly update schedule, but we'll see how long I can actually keep that up.

Miscellaneous other writing:

Every now and then I'll post small (couple hundred words at most) pieces based on various interesting dreams that I've had. Being based on dreams, the content is a mixed bag and there's no real regular posting schedule for it. Those are tagged under #my dreams.