#Update schedule is going to vary and I'm sorry about that

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Nothing and Everything - Part 1

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

When do you call it and admit that you need help?

Especially when help is part of the trauma.

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, PTSD, lots of flashbacks.

Word Count: 6340

Part one: Marc has a plan. It's not a very good one. The fallout ripples across the other two.

------

Sometimes it was better to be nothing. 

An odd sensation. One he was not supposed to like, if he was to believe the books. Disorientating, sluggish, and leaving one unable to process or do anything. 

Yet he welcomed it at times. He could feel it coming on and he would embrace that nothing. Floating outside of himself. Outside of time. Outside of the world and all it stood for. 

Out here, he didn’t have to be anything. He didn’t have to be Marc Spector. 

He didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to be grounded. He didn’t have to be a husband. A brother. A son. 

He could remember as a child sitting and staring down at his dinner plate. He could remember how the shape of the chicken and rice seemed odd. How the more he stared and tried to make sense of it, the less it became. He stared until the individual rice pieces became lost to him. What was it supposed to be? Where did it exist beyond the plate? It wasn’t real and yet here he was supposed to…do what? 

“Why are you such a pain? Why can’t you be normal? Pay attention when I talk to you!”

Crashing down, his world rang out and he felt what might be pain. He was aware of something hitting him. Splashing cold water on him as the cup crashed to the floor. Pain was not external. Pain was crawling out of that nothing. Pain was drowning in the cave. Pain was returning to his body and existence. Pain was the slow blink he forced on himself as he came crashing back to the diner table. 

“Go clean yourself up. You disgust me.” 

Pain was the man next to him continuing to eat with his eyes down. Pain was struggling to get up and move, wading through a universe that didn’t want him as he made his way to his room. 

Sitting down and holding his knees to his chest, he rocked. It helped. It soothed him. The rocking reminded him that he had a body. That he was supposed to be here. That there was someone else that he had to be there for. 

There were times when it was beautiful. 

Sitting in the temple, listening to the call of the Rabbi, staring at the beautiful art etched across the walls. The Hebrew letters ancient and strange and outside of his time. His father, so proud of how his son would become so moved. How his son would stare upward and rock until tears streamed down his face. It was beautiful out here. Beautiful and free… 

Walking home he would stumble. His feet were not his to move yet they had to move. 

“Did you enjoy it?” 

A voice answered that was not his. If the body was not his, someone had to own it. Someone had to make it move and speak and act. That was well enough for him. He could let Steven have this. Even if it made his father look at him with worry. 

“Son. You don’t have to talk like that. You’ve been watching too many documentaries from the BBC.” 

He would deal with it later. Let Steven have this. He didn’t want it. 

There were times when he would fight it. Times when the call of nothing scared him. When all he wanted to do was exist and he couldn’t. 

“Spector! If we don’t move we’re dead!” 

He stared down at the bullet shells around him. Glimmering in the sun, golden and charred and dented. He rocked back into the broken wall he was seeking shelter behind. Each thump of his back desperately trying to hold him. Lips moving he clung to reality desperately with each stay stay stay stay stay. 

It was what the counselor had told him. Just stay present. Stop drifting. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t day dreaming. Day dreaming was when he pretended he had a loving family at home. When he pretended his mother was at home cooking his favorite meal for him because she loved him. Yet drifting was a word that felt right. 

“SPECTOR! MOVE!”  

He cracked his head back into the wall and forced himself to his feet, running. He didn’t look where. Was it to safety? Was it to oblivion? He was moving. It was move or die. Gunshots. Metal in his hand. Bodies in the dirt. His own voice angry and firm. “Marc. Wake up.” 

No. He didn’t want to. It was fine out here. Why did he need to come out when clearly his body knew what to do. He closed his eyes. He would wake later to find the danger gone. The dirt red and the bullets surrounding him. 

“You’re a freak, Spector. A goddamned lucky freak.”  

Did the others ever drift? Did they find beauty or comfort in not existing? 

Steven hated it. It took away from his time that he could be studying. Or so he said. Honestly, it scared Steven. Steven who had fought so hard for his own sense of self. For his identity. Marc understood why Steven would find the experience disquieting. 

Steven would clench his eyes shut and dig his nails into his palms. He would fight it, exhausting himself and pacing the flat in any effort to stay grounded. He took up reading out loud, focusing on each word and saying it to make it real. He would spend hours reading out books on history until his voice gave out. When it was too much, he would throw Marc to the front and bury himself down and down until he could not drift away anymore. 

“I don’t know how you do it, mate. It’s horrible. Worse than feeling trapped. Worse than anything.” 

And Jake? Jake would not admit to it. There were long stretches at a time when they would not hear a word from Jake. Perhaps that was his strategy. The less he existed the less he could avoid not existing? Marc considered it an interesting problem solve. One he had contemplated in his darkest days as he tried to give his everything to Steven. 

Was Jake avoiding them? Was he avoiding life? Was he avoiding having to face what he was? 

Marc noticed the ticks. The way Jake moved his hands. The way he tapped his fingers one at a time on his thumb over and over. The way he tapped his leg, looking to outsiders to be an impatient man. The way he walked, always taking extra steps anywhere he went. Steps to be sure to place himself in the perfect position. The way he chose his clothes so carefully, feeling them and pulling them to test their sensations. 

No, Jake was not as prone to drifting. Jake was prone to a different problem. Jake felt too much. Too present. Too much sensation. Too much everything. Too much and Jake would leave. His solution to avoid that inner desire to scream and cry until it all stopped. 

A vague memory of a melt down in school. When the bell rang and the lunchroom trays crashed and banged and he could hear the rolling carts and laughter and screaming. Marc had drifted away and Steven was nowhere near the surface. It had been too much of everything and Jake had been forced to take front when he least wanted it. Jake hated school. He hated the over stimulation. He hated the sounds and the way he was forced to interact with so many people. People that did not understand him. 

Escaping into the bathroom he had locked himself in a stall and punched the wall over and over and over again, feeling the force of his hands on the wall. Listening to the thuds and feeling it rattle his skeleton. 

Marc had woken to bloodied and bruised fists. It was a wonder he hadn’t known Jake before. Looking back, he felt bad for all the times he’d force Jake to take a situation that made him want nothing more than to stay down below. He wanted to explain to Jake that it could be different now. That he didn’t need Jake to jump in all the time. That Steven could be there when he wasn’t. 

If only he could stay present. If only he could explain to Jake and Steven why it had to be this way. Why they had to suffer. Why he had failed them by just existing. 

“Marc?” Layla took his hand and squeezed it so gently. “Are you alright?” 

He blinked and gave the smallest of nods. It was the best he could do out here. 

He could feel her watching him. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what it was like to lose oneself to the nothing. How good it felt to not have to be anything with any expectations. 

“Can you talk?” She wove her fingers in his and held on. 

“Yeah.” Marc pulled himself back down and held on, trying to focus on her. “Just…Having a moment.” 

She nodded and sat beside him, leaning into him gently. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating against his own. “Do you mind company?” 

He used to hide from her. If he felt himself start to drift he would lock himself away. Pretend to sleep. Anything so she wouldn’t know or suspect how broken he was. 

Now there was no use to hiding. She knew. She knew all of it. But she didn’t know the way it could make him feel. 

He could send out Steven. She would certainly welcome the company. Jake might even pop up if he was around. Jake didn’t mind the quiet calm she provided. It was hard to tell who was where in this state. 

“I’m sorry.” He managed to get out. 

“For what?” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he could smell her shampoo. 

“Being a mess.” He was slowly being pulled back in. It hurt to let go but it couldn’t last forever. He could already feel the headache setting in. 

“You aren’t a mess, Marc.” She looked up at him firmly. 

“I cause problems for them. Because of me, Steven has to put up with me... He has a hard enough time feeling recognized and I’m always taking that away from him. And Jake… I put him in these situations. I left him in the crowded underground station during rush hour yesterday. And for you… You having to put up with this.” He pulled away and moved to get up. 

She held his hand tightly, pulling him back down. “Marc. You aren’t the reason for this. It’s not your fault that you disassociate. All three of you do it. It isn’t really something you can control. You aren’t the reason Jake doesn’t like crowds or gets overwhelmed. He puts up with it because he cares, but I’ve seen all three of you melt down over different things.” 

She smiled and Marc frowned. “Jake is the one with the temper. Steven doesn’t melt down.” Even just saying it he knew it was wrong.  

Layla gave him a look. “I moved Steven’s book shelf the other day to get something. I thought Steven was going to have a heart attack. He doesn’t handle change well. Or loss of control. I know now to ask him if I can move things. Ask him to help me if I need to move something. It lets him feel more in control of his situation.” 

“It’s my fault.” Marc leaned back. “I had all this before them. Now that I have them, they have to have these problems too.” 

“That isn’t how it works and you know it.” She scoffed. “As far as I understand it, there is no ‘before them’ when it comes to this stuff. You all have the same problem because that’s just how it works. You all just handle it differently.” 

No before. Marc wasn’t sure about before. Who was he before Steven and Jake? Was he himself or was he all of them? Was he no one? Perhaps they were there first and he came later, crawling out of the desert leaving behind blood soaked sand filled with memories of pain and suffering. 

Thinking about it like that made him dizzy. Was he born in the desert? What if Jake and Steven had always been and he was the one that came out just to cause them pain and suffering? Soaked in sweat and blood and grime to reflect the inside of his very soul. 

He forced a little headshake to be rid of the thought. He knew better. He had been around since the earlier years. He remembered the snap of the belt. If anything, that was his proof of existence. 

Layla squeezed his hand when she noticed him frowning harder than normal. Thinking about his very existence was more than he could handle. He jolted a little and forced himself to squeeze her hand back, though it was weak. 

“Do you think you were happier before you knew all of this?” Marc leaned back and looked up at her. “When you thought I was just some normal man?” 

“You were never normal.” Layla smiled teasingly and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You were a bottled up shell of a person that stared at me way too long and hard every time I looked at you. I fell for you because of the real you I would see now and then. You thought you were so clever and sneaky but I knew there was something.” 

“You probably weren’t expecting this much of a mess though.” Marc smiled back at her and laughed to himself. 

She shrugged. “Worst case I thought you had another wife and kids somewhere. Just turns out you were three people in a trench coat.” 

“Might still have a wife and kids somewhere.” It was Marc’s turn to give her the teasing look. “I mean, no one knows what Jake gets up to all the time.” 

“That is Jake’s business.” Layla shrugged. “And he would tell me if he did. He isn’t trouble like you are.” 

“Jake doesn’t tell you everything.” Marc frowned. 

Layla smiled and sat back. “He doesn’t tell you everything. I’m his gossip buddy.” 

“His what?” Marc sat up. “What does that even mean?” 

She zipped her lips and smiled. “Relax, Marc. You have nothing to worry about. Jake is my sort of gauge on how you’re doing as a whole. I help him relax and he lets me know when there are things to worry about.” 

“Things to worry about.” Marc crossed his arms. “So he’s like a snitch? I would have thought Steven would be the snitch out of all us. What sort of things does he tell you?” 

“He is not a snitch.” She frowned at him. “And I’ll have you know that Steven is the most trustworthy of the three of you to hold a secret.” She relaxed again, though he could tell she was mildly irritated. “Steven tells me if he has concerns. If he thinks there’s trouble or danger. He tells me if he’s having an off day. He thinks it is important to keep me in the loop, but he also doesn’t go into detail if he is fronting because of problems. Jake tells me if he is fronting because of necessity or because he wants to. There is a difference. An important one.” 

Marc looked away. He shared front most often with Steven. Steven was the easiest to switch with and often found it fun to sit with him as co-driver. It was a puzzle that Steven just couldn’t help but hack away at and be the best at. If Steven took over by force it was with good reason, but he knew Steven would never broadcast it. 

Marc had the hardest time switching with Jake. Jake often came to front after Steven. It seemed smoother and less jarring. If he and Jake tried to switch out on purpose there was always a delay. A delay that ran the risk of letting him drift. Not to mention the amnesic barrier that seemed to always sit between him and Jake. If Jake pulled front by force then it was usually a very bad day for a number of potential reasons. 

Reasons Marc didn’t want to think about. Reasons that Jake kept from him at times. Or perhaps reasons that Marc himself refused to see. 

Layla sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Marc stared up at the ceiling, resting his head back against the couch in a position that was sure to strain his neck if he waited too long. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset.” Marc closed his eyes for a moment and felt the world shift. “I just… I wish you’d see…” 

“What do you want me to see Marc?” She sat forward and looked at him fully, the frustration on her face easy to see. “I don’t like it when you are so hard on yourself. You know I can’t agree with you when you talk like this. I love you too much to hear any sort of hateful speech about you, no matter who it is from.”

He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t want to argue with Layla and he could not explain it to her. How could he? He couldn’t explain it to himself. He didn’t know who was closer to the front, but one of them would step in. He let go and fell to the back. He didn’t even want to be aware of what was going on. Especially since he was certain it was not going to be an easy transition. 

He would apologize later. He was always apologizing later. 

Steven groaned and scrunched up his face as the world swam into focus. “Oh bloody hell.” He took a slow breath and let himself focus in on his surroundings slowly. “M’alright.” 

“Great.” Layla sighed and struggled to reign in her frustration. “Hey, Steven.” 

“Hmm.” He smiled as he focused in on her face. The smile faltered as he noticed her look of utter irritation. “Sorry. What did I miss? Is everything alright?” 

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Marc has been in and out all day. I made the mistake of pushing him. I thought maybe he just needed some company or something to ground him. He pushed back. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Then he just throws you out when I call him on his own B.S.” 

“Oh.” Steven squeezes her hand firmly then frowns. “Are you mad at him?” Steven was the peace keeper. He did his best to keep everyone happy. To make sure no one felt left out. 

He had been the first to bridge the gap between Marc and Jake. The first to open communication between Layla and Jake. He kept everyone in the loop. 

Even now, he was fishing inside for the general sense of wellbeing. Marc snapped back and pulled away, effectively slamming the door on him. 

“No.” Layla crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths. She tried to contain her emotions at times. She hated to think that any arguments or problems would carry over to her feelings on someone else that wasn’t involved. 

Sometimes it was hard. 

Sometimes Marc shut her out and she turned a cold shoulder to Steven because she needed someone to know she was upset. She knew she had snapped at Jake more than once when the realities of the situation became too heavy for her to hold up. 

“Yes.” She sighed and forced herself to take his hand. The same fingers, the same warmth, yet a lighter and more delicate hold. “He’s been a mess all day and I don’t know how to help him. He won’t let me help him.” 

Steven nodded. “I think we’re just having a day.” 

“What does that mean?” She looked at him, desperate to know. “A day? A day of what? Is he depressed? Is he upset? Does he need space? Should I trust him with space?” 

Steven scrunched up his face and rubbed his temple. The headache was starting to pound. It was hard for him to know if this was what had set off Marc or if the headache was a result of Marc being set off. 

“No. Nothing like that. He’s… He’ll be fine.” Steven did not have a poker face. When his world spun, he reached inside again. “I’m sorry, Love. I feel terrible. I’d like to go lay down for a bit, if that’s alright?” 

Layla looked at him with concern then nodded. “Of course.” 

She watched him get up and wander to the bed, flopping back as he pulled the blankets around himself like a cocoon. 

“Do you want anything? Some aspirin? Water?” She tried to help. Wanted to help. Needed to help. 

Steven made a sound and curled up tighter, rolling up in the blanket till all she could see was a few stray curls poking out of the top. 

“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything.” She moved to fill a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. 

He would be in bed for the next several hours. Marc had pushed too hard and now it was like he had dug his finger into the brain and clawed at it like an animal trying to escape. All that was left was for Steven to cling to it like a tether. 

Sometimes things spilled over. More than headaches and spinning into the nothing. 

Sometimes emotions carried through them. Sudden bouts of anxiety could pierce them, making the heart pound as adrenalin shot through them like a live wire. 

Steven was prone to the anxiety attacks. Worry about life. About the body. About his headmates. About Layla. About the relationship. About his job. About existing. 

Marc coasted over the anxiety like nothing. He was used to adrenalin. His face neutral, he would take a breath and focus like only Marc Spector could, holding down the fort like a man that had never known how to relax a day in his life. 

Anger was an emotion that sometimes scared Steven. He hadn’t realized he had the capacity until he learned about his headmates. Marc was filled with anger. He held it all back until he blew up. Steven would often blow up right along with him, unable to hold on. 

Jake knew anger. Jake had known rage and learned how to harness it. When the anger became destructive, Jake could pull it in and use the fuel to get things done. Jake was never more productive than when the anger simmered over into a boil. 

Steven wondered what emotion Jake brought to the table. Then again, Steven also often found himself crying for no reason. There were times when the tears would flow down his face without any reason. 

Marc was not connected to this overflow. When the sadness was too much inside, Marc disconnected. It made Steven wonder who of them was really feeling it. His own connection with Jake left him with suspicions but he was too afraid to ask. 

Steven had asked Jake once if it had always just been the three of them. He wondered about time spans in their life that neither he or Marc seemed to have. Had Jake been that active once? 

The one with those memories isn’t around anymore.

It scared him. To know that someone had once been there and was simply not anything anymore. Not death and not sleeping. Just… Not. Not aware? Lost in the void? Sitting quietly alone somewhere and feeling free from the mess that existed around them? 

Then again, he himself had such large gaps in his memory that perhaps he had simply not been anything for a while too. 

Steven curled up tighter and pulled the blanket down until it was stuffy and hot. 

How many had come and gone? How many were simply lurking and staying quiet? How many knew things that were forbidden? 

Marc was prone to flashbacks. They usually came at night. Sometimes set off by sounds and sometimes by weather. Rain often clenched at his heart till Steven slipped in. 

Yet one of them had started waking the body up late at night screaming. Emotions so overblown and painful that Steven would blindly step in and catch the tail end of pure terror. Flashes of something he couldn’t see. Sounds from the past that deafened them until the world was a buzz. 

Marc denied these attacks. He had no recollection of them. Jake seemed tight lipped and frustrated by these break through attacks, but he assured Steven it wasn’t from him. 

Someone in the system was distressed. 

I don’t know who you are, and it’s okay if you want to stay hidden…. But you need to know that you aren’t alone. You are safe here. We’re here for you. 

He called out. Into the dark. Into the void. Into the inner space. 

You are safe. 

“Steven?” 

He jumped and sat up. How long had he been in bed? Was it still day? What day was it? 

A fear often struck him that one day he might close his eyes and open them years later to find everything different yet to him no time at all. 

He looked around, trying to find context clues till his eyes settled on Layla. 

“Are you feeling any better?” She sat on the edge of the bed, a soft and hopeful smile hiding her worry. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Just a couple of hours.” She glanced to the side where she had set a fresh cup of tea. 

Steven smiled and adjusted himself till he was comfortable then took the cup of tea carefully. It was still hot and smelled wonderful and strong. 

Layla always made a strong cup of anything she brewed. Marc swore that Layla could raise the dead with her coffee. Jake had gotten a taste for it and they now had rules in place on when and how much he could drink. 

Steven stared down into the dark water, hands clutching the cup as he let the heat radiate outwards to warm him. He could pretend that it reached into his very soul and set fire to his hearth, then perhaps Marc and Jake could feel it too and they could gather around the glow. 

“Are you alright?” Layla leaned down so she could peer at his face under the mess of curls. 

It was then that Steven felt the tears drip off his chin to splash down into the tea. 

He managed a nod and wiped a cheek on his sleeve. He sipped the tea, now laced in sadness. It was bitter, but not unpleasantly so. 

“We’re a mess today, huh?” He mumbled. 

“Everyone has bad days.” She smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” Steven didn’t like talking about things that were not his own. If Marc needed space, he would give it. If things got out of hand, he would intervene. It was his place to trust Marc. To trust the others. 

Let me talk to her.

Steven frowned. Jake did not give space. Jake was often blunt and always analyzing a situation. 

“Let me finish my tea.” Steven suddenly felt stubborn and sour. Jake didn’t like tea and had let Steven take the brunt of the headache earlier when he had been just as close to the front when Marc bailed. 

The look in Layla’s eyes meant she knew Jake was trying to front. Like watching someone waiting for a friend at the airport. He would come with news and a smile.

Steven was just in the way now. A stand in between her and the functionings of something she wanted to know… But did she need to know? 

He sipped the tea again, less careful this time as he burned his lips a little. 

Steven.

It was a warning. Jake knew that Steven hated being spoken down to. Hated being looked at as incapable. He wanted to handle it. He could handle it. He always handled it. 

“Not now.” Steven snapped and moved to get out of the bed as if he could possibly put distance between him and the thing in his head that was annoying him. 

Steven. Let go.

Jake could pull him. He could pull Marc easily in the worst of times. Yet they all knew that Steven could put up a fight. If Steven didn’t want to go, he would fight and no one would come out of it unscathed. 

It was only kindness to them all that Jake asked. Normally Steven obliged. Jake didn’t ask for front a lot. Sometimes he was thrust into it, sometimes he took it by force, and sometimes he just slipped in. Usually when Jake asked, Steven was more than happy to step aside. He knew what it was to be pushed back when scared and alone… Begging to have control of his life… 

He burned his mouth on the tea and winced as he felt the scald run down his throat to sit in his stomach like a hot coal. The cup of tea sloshed over his hand before he set it down on the side table. 

“Fuck!” Jake moved to the bathroom and quickly cupped his hand under the cold water then moved to guzzle it, putting out the fire inside. 

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh god! Are we okay? 

Jake sighed as he felt the damage, his tongue raw and the roof of his mouth nicely seared. That would be a lovely annoyance for the next week. His hand was only mildly burned and at least would be fine by tomorrow. 

He looked up to find Layla behind him in the mirror, her eyes full of concern. 

“We’re okay.” An answer to her and Steven. 

He let out a heavy sigh, feeling himself settle in as the air left him. Almost like he was forcing out the remnants of the other two. Inhaling slowly, he filled with his own troubles. 

“We aren’t okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face before turning back to face Layla fully. 

“It’s the change of the season. The end of summer as the rains start to hit.” Jake glanced at the window, watching the sun casting lingering shadows at low angles. “A bad time of year for us… A lot of bad memories… A lot of regrets. Loss…” 

The sun was no longer golden and warm. It was hot and unloving. The night would stretch on and the pounding on the door would get louder. Tears at night soaked through pillows and night terrors left dark circles under eyes. 

The first rain would flash flood, unable to soak into the too dry ground fast enough. Dark grays like her sweater, coarse and painful in a hug full of lies and promises. 

He would see his father’s sad face in the windows he passed. Unknown to him in his age, no longer the strong and happy man he had known. He would hear him begging to stay as he walked away. 

And the screams… 

Jake clenched his eyes shut for a moment, willing the memories away before they overwhelmed him and flooded through. Steven was already too close and getting emotional carry over. He didn’t need the nightmares too. One of them needed to be able to sleep at night. 

Marc knew the nightmares were coming. Like clockwork he knew the depression would slide in to poison his mind and drag him down. 

But this was the first year that they were all aware of one another. 

This was the first time that Marc knew he didn’t have to be present. That perhaps…

“Fucking bastard is trying to dissociate his way through it.” Jake groaned and moved to slump back on the couch. 

“What’s that?” Layla settled in next to him. 

“This is our first year being… We.” He struggled to explain. “Aware. The first time we’ve known about each other. In the past, Marc fought through it. Held his ground and got depressed and… You know. You were there for a lot of it.” 

Layla looked thoughtful for a moment. “I used to think it was seasonal affective disorder.” She tilted her head as she chased a memory. 

“I bought him one of those sun lamps that are supposed to improve your mood.” She sighed. “I don’t think it helped at all. I thought it was weird that his depression started in so much earlier than most people.” 

Jake gave her a small smile, trying to imagine Marc sitting in front of the lamp dutifully every day while Layla watched, knowing that it wasn’t going to help. 

“He doesn’t have to hold his ground anymore. He doesn’t want to be present for it.” Jake shook his head at the cleverness that was both impressive and also so utterly infuriating. 

“You mean like hibernation?” Layla looked startled. “He’s just going to… What? Sleep all season? I’ll see him in the spring?”

He would try to be a grumpy bear, wouldn’t he? Steven grumbled from the back. He was still keeping his distance, feeling ashamed for burning them. 

Jake leaned on his hand, covering up a smile at that. “Marc wishes he could go into hibernation. It doesn’t work that way. He might try to front less… But he is still going to be affected. He’s trying to detach himself from the moment. If he’s stuck in the moment, he might even try to force us to switch. Give us reason to pull him.” 

Leave it to Marc to come up with a way to use his D.I.D to try to get out of his feelings instead of trying to face them. 

Layla was quiet for a moment then looked down. “It’s not a bad idea… Maybe we should let him. Is it so wrong to help him not suffer?” 

Jake sank further back into the couch till even Steven was complaining about the posture. 

Jake please, our back!

He remembered the feeling of helplessness. The feeling of sitting in a chair as the sedation washed over them. The feel of the body being numb and heavy. The struggle to even look up and see who was talking. 

Jake had hated every moment of it. Every moment of helplessness. The sensation of nothing. Of being locked out. 

But not Marc… Marc had loved it. The feeling of not having to do anything. He loved the way he didn’t have to think. 

It was any wonder that Marc developed a drinking problem after that. Desperately trying to recreate the numbness. 

It was only out of pure will that they had managed to avoid diving into deeper and more damaging things. 

“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t control things like that. Our system is actually pretty delicate. All three of us…” He paused here, not used to including himself in these admissions. “We’re all in a pretty delicate balance. He can’t just pretend he isn’t here for half the year.” 

“What one does, the others have to deal with too.” Layla frowned then looked down at Jake. She reached out and gently gripped his arm, pulling him back up into a better posture to spare their back. “Marc might be fine, but the other two would suffer…” 

Steven perked up at that. The nightmares… Are they yours?  

Jake leaned into Layla lightly, laying a hand over hers to keep her touch there a moment longer. “Steven would be happy to run the show, I’m sure. Pretending that we didn’t exist. Living like he did before he knew…” 

Steven protested, but half heartedly. He knew the truth and couldn’t hide it. How easy it would be to pretend he was normal. He would be sad at first, missing the company. But how many times did he wake up in the morning and call out, wondering if it was all just a dream? Would it be possible for denial to kick in and make him forget? Would it be hard to give up control again in the spring? 

Even without the denial, the loneliness felt like a pit deep inside and it terrified him. 

“I don’t think Steven would be very happy alone.” Layla looked down at Jake’s trembling hand that clung to hers. He hadn’t even realized how tightly he had been clinging. “I don’t think any of you want to or should be alone.” 

She lay her head against his shoulder and gently wrapped her free arm around his waist. 

“I’m sorry.” Jake or Steven mumbled. They didn’t know who was in front. Steven had always blended easily with the others. Even before he knew about the others. It was easy for Marc of Jake to mesh with Steven. His strength had always been to hold them up and together. 

“It’s okay…” She whispered as she squeezed his hand. Steven loved to be held. Jake loved to be leaned into. Marc loved to do the holding. “I’ll be here for you.” 

Tears ran down their cheeks again, flowing into streams like a flash flood. Steven felt his heart clench in anxiety and Jake pushed back a memory. 

Someone inside was so sad that it threatened to drown them all. 

You’re okay. You’re safe now.  

He cried out into the emptiness. 

Jake’s hand squeezed Layla’s till he slipped back and let Steven have the front again. 

At what point would it not be enough to be reassured? At what point would it be too much to exist? Sometimes it was so nice to not be. 

Jake wished he could feel it too. The way Marc did… The free float of nothing. Instead, he was trapped here in the sarcophagus pounding his fists against the solid wood, feeling everything. 

---

Part Two HERE

[thankskenpenders]

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

[coral-island-player]

Coral Island dlc idea - Pufferfish/evil route

I have an idea for a future update or dlc - one when you can join Pufferfish. Now, I know that what they're doing is evil, but I think if handled correctly, it would be a good addition. Long post, because apparently I can't make short posts like, ever. Also I think if it was a dlc, part of the benefits could go to charity? To show that while you can do evil things there, the devs don't think it's good.

Now, I think with the way the game currently is, you don't have a choice - your character has to be good. Which is great but I don't feel very satisfied with it. Of course my characters are doing good things, they don't have a choice. It'd feel better if I had the choice, you know?

So, in how I imagine it, after the initial cutscenes of Karen arriving at Coral Island and Mayor Connor explaining the situation to you, the next day you encounter Karen. She asks you to join Pufferfish and help them take over the island - I mean, help save it.

If you decline, the game progresses as usual. Only then you get the mysterious dream, the museum opens to you and Ling asks you for help. The only thing that changes is that when you talk to Karen, instead of (very poorly) trying to convince you to join them, she's a bit passive aggressive and upset with you for not joining her side. Maybe slight changes happen, like Karen and Raina having schedules and some more events. Possibly a bit more features, to make the dlc worth it for people who aren't interested in joining Pufferfish. That is, if it's a dlc and not an update.

If you do join her, that's when some things happen. You get some benefits - perhaps you get some funds from Pufferfish? Cheaper things, maybe some free sprinklers once in a while? I don't know what it might be, but basically it's technically easier for you, if you look at it from the benefit point of view. Much easier.

You pay to unlock higher town ranks and benefits you'd get for completing bundles, but as you pay, Karen's plans she tells to the townsfolk are more and more fulfilled. There are more and more oil rigs around the island. You never get the dream, Ling never asks you for help, you don't even get the chance to see the museum because it's immediately turned into the storage. The ocean only gets more polluted, though you get free kelp from the Pufferfish. Who knows what happens to the merfolk? You wouldn't know they exist, same with Giants. You can mine, but you can't free the Giants. The sacred trees get cut down. Maybe the temple gets cleaned and turned into a tourist spot. It's made very clear by the game that you made the morally wrong and selfish choice. And you miss out on so many parts of the gameplay! Maybe instead of enchantments, you get "tech upgrades" from Pufferfish (of course you pay money instead of gems and fossils).

And the townsfolk aren't thrilled by your actions, either. Word spreads fast that you're the one who sponsors Pufferfish and many hold it against you. It requires more points for you to make friends with the characters. The degree of the debuff might vary with some characters, Ling and Surya for example would resent you more than let's say, Mark or Chaem that were never that against Pufferfish to begin with. Some characters might even outright refuse to date you ("I'm sorry, *player name*. But I simply can't date someone who endorses Pufferfish. I hope you understand." Maybe that could be Scott, Surya, maybe Millie? I don't know how many, but some would). In some dialogue they mention how the changes affect them. Everyone's life is generally worse, except for yours which is actively better. Maybe some characters move out, like Ling, Surya, Scott...

Perhaps there are some slight changes on festivals, meaning Tree Planting and Beach Cleanup festivals ("I'm surprised YOU'RE here, *player name*. Last time I checked, you didn't care about the environment did you?").

You never get to meet and befriend the merfolk, obviously. Instead, you can befriend and romance Karen, Raina and Derek (yep, he's romanceable there. Sounds a bit more appealing now doesn't it?). You get heart events, and they're generally likeable characters, and in this path easiest to befriend. Even Karen has a soft side for you and genuinely cares about you, even if she is kinda evil. So are you in this path, though... While Raina and Derek are generally good people, just a bit misguided (possibly also romanceable after reaching town rank A in the good path? So really this path is only necessary if you wanna date Karen or want to speedrun it).

Maybe you do a little good though, like convincing Karen to make the work conditions at Pufferfish a bit better. Or pay to get the amount of trash in water reduced (you don't care about pollution. You just don't like it when you're trying to fish and there are flyers all over the water). But the bad you did still outweighs the good.

So, your life is better. Farming is easier, but everything that makes the island and the game what is is, is gone or destroyed. You feel guilty every time you pass by the place when the trees once were, the temple, or see the oil rigs, or when one of the townsfolk makes another passive aggressive comment to you, or just won't go up that one another heart. It's quite depressing, really. Was it really worth it? It makes the good path more satisfying in contrast, though. Knowing you could do the wrong thing, but didn't.

Maybe I made the consequences too severe, or too light. It is a bit depressing. Feel free to tell me what you think.

[iasmelaion]

Briefly surfacing from my new farm in Pelican Town (Greenwoods Farm, already in Summer and I am on that community center completion grind!!!) because new Stardew Valley update time is when I'm most reminded of the many and varied ways people play this game, since this is when I actually check the subreddit/tags/etc, and see the diverse ecosystem of SDV players:

Min-maxers who simply must make the most money as quickly as possible, and get the community center completed and achieve perfection in the most speedy and efficient way. Spreadsheets are involved. Schedules. Detailed calculations of the most profitable way to process a crop. (YES i have a SDV to-do list right now, and yes i am eagerly awaiting starting my ancient fruit wine empire [$$$$$], but I assure you I am NOT a minmaxer.)

People who like the fishing minigame. (I don't mind it, it's just that after 1000+ hours, I think I deserve to skip it. For my hand and wrist's sake, if nothing else.)

The people who take the Role Play part of Cozy Farming RPG seriously, and have whole detailed backstories for their Farmer and their interactions with the world and characters and the romances.

The people who take the Relaxing part of Cozy Farming RPG seriously and play a bit at a time, just vibing, not too concerned with making money or progressing.

The people who just restart over and over. (Don't understand it, tbh! lol I am Struggling on my new save without luxuries like the return scepter and obelisks and iridium sprinklers.)

The people who simply cannot function without their 103028 aesthetic mods that basically make the game look entirely different.

Relatedly, the people who are intense and detailed about decorating their farms or achieving the ideal, prettiest layout. (I care about this, I just kind of suck at it.)

The people who simply cannot function without their 158440 quality of life and expansion mods. (It's me. I'm in this picture. Tractor Mod and Automate, my beloveds. Stardew Valley Expanded, you are canon to me. I've done the game fair and square already, let me have this. also pour one out for PPJA, but at least we have cornucopia now. idky having frankly ludicrous crop variety pleases me so much, but it does)

Console/mobile players. thoughts and prayers, but seemingly every third post on the subreddit is console players asking when the update is coming out for console, does being a console player impact your literacy or something. like. someone JUST asked fifteen minutes ago. it is in the pinned post. sorry, that's mean, it's just very tedious and happens with every single update.

People who cannot play the game without the wiki (hello, it is me again, me and my dozen open SDV Wiki tabs. no, the Look Up Anything and UI Info Suite mods do not curb this behavior)

People who never check the wiki and simply. Muddle through?? (couldn't be me)

People who go the Joja route???? (i will NEVER do this, not even for the Steam achievement. the guilt and the shame would be TOO MUCH)

[acaciapines]

I forgot if I already asked this sorry, but are you going to post it all at once? Or is it going to be slowly releasing one chapter at a time? For the daemon owl house fic

no worries! the tl;dr answer is that this story will be posted one chapter at a time! and, because i've actually committed to a date now...the first chapter will be dropping on june 19th! the two year anniversary of when i first started writing this <3 which was not planned at all lol but a VERY nice coincidence.

the long answer for anybody who might want more info on what that looks like is that this is a series that consists of 44 different "episodes" (so, separate fics), between 150-160 chapters, and 850k+ words. posting all that at one time would. break me i think lol. also i like posting things chapter by chapter, cause i like getting to talk w readers! i wanna see those PREDICTIONS. yes this is the owl house but i've got some fun twists and turns in there. even some i havent talked about on this blog yet!

im not entirely sure what the update schedule will be and it will almost certainly vary as i experience. yknow. Life. but my current plan is that assuming nothing drastic changes irl arc one (covering episodes 1-4 of toh s2) will be posted 3 times a week, sundays, wednesdays, and fridays until its over, which would be sometime in july? after that...who knows! most likely it'll update once a week for MOST of the time, but if i've got spare time i'll try to post twice a week.

whatever happens though the time is SOON. but also yes this will be a long commitment lol, i'm gonna be posting this bad boy for AT MINIMUM a year and likely two if im being honest.

[5sosxqueen]

Luke's Surgery

< Part 1 , < Part 2 , < Part 3

~Part 4~ , Part 5 >

much to say about this one. The only thing is Mashton.

Warnings: A interband romance relations between Michael and Ashton, concussion mention, hospital, vomiting/emeto

Written in 2018

Published (Wattpad) - Feb 23, 2018

Word Count: 2271

Updates are every Tuesday and Thursday

Also Available on Wattpad and AO3!!!!

Part 4:

Luke's POV:

      "Knock, knock..."

      "Come on in." I yelled groggily.

      "Good morning, Luke. So I managed to get your surgery scheduled for 10:45am today. I suggest calling and telling anyone you feel should know, anyone who is be giving you a ride, perhaps. How are you feeling?" The doctor asked.

      "Um, well, I can tell I'm alive." I smiled slightly. "I still feel pukey, my ankle is both burning and feeling like I'm being stabbed, I still have a killer headache. So, all in all, as you can imagine, I feel wonderful..." I chuckled.

       "I bet you do." Laughing at my sarcasm. "Do you need anything before I leave, besides anything to eat or drink... You can't have anything at least 6 hours prior to the surgery. Which it's been around 10 since you have, so that isn't a problem. You are scheduled for your pre-op in 30 minutes."

       "I'm good on everything for now, but I did have a question." I looked down feeling a bit awkward at what I was about to ask.

       "What is it Luke?" He asked.

"I'm getting discharged after my surgery right?" He nodded. "Would there be any trouble if I took about 10 of these?" I held up the sickness bag, feeling a little self-conscious.

       "Of course you can Luke. That's not a problem at all. We get thousands of them everyday. You have nothing to worry about. Now I'm going to let you have some rest before the surgery. If you have any questions, feel free to ask." He smiled before turning around and leaving the room.

       I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was being tapped on the shoulder by my surgeon. I jumped and she chuckled. "Sorry about that Mr. Hemmings. I'm Dr. Gadiva. I'm your surgeon. I will be operating on your Achilles today." I wiped a hand across my face, discovering the drool I had dribbling down my chin. Which I quickly wiped off.

       "You don't have to apologize for waking me... I must have dozed. And please call me Luke." She smiled.

       "Of course Luke. So to explain a bit on what I am doing, I will be making an incision in the back of your calf and then I will stitch the tendon back together, but if the tendon is degenerated at all, I will have to remove the damaged part of the tendon and repair the rest of the tendon with stitches. If there is severe damage to a lot of the tendon, I might replace part or all of your Achilles tendon. This is done with a tendon taken from another place in your foot. Do you have any questions Luke?"

       "How long will the surgery be? And also what are some things that I would need to look out for?" I asked.

        "The surgery is usually 30 minutes to an hour, but it can be longer depending on the severity of the injury. Well, your own risks may vary according to your age, the shape of your foot and leg muscles and tendons, your general health, and the type of surgery done, but generally we tell everyone to look out for excess bleeding, nerve damage, any signs of infection, blood clots, wound healing problems, calf weakness, and continued pain in your foot and ankle. You will also be in either a cast or walking boot for around 6-12 weeks. You don't have to remember all of this. You will get a paper with all of rhe information on it." I nodded, thankful that I'd be getting something with all of this on it because there would have been no way in hell I would have rememered all of this. She looked at the clock in the wall and snapped her head back toward me. "OK Luke, are you ready?"

       "As ready I'll ever be." I sighed out. I wished I called one of the guys and told them about this. I felt bad leaving everyone in the dark, but yet again weren't they doing that to me?

       She and a small team wheeled me into the OR and the anesthesiologist covered my face with a mask, telling me to count down from 10. "10... 9... 8... 7... 6-" I mumbled as my eyes slowly shut, allowing me to fall into darkness.

Calum's POV:

      I decided to call Luke to see how he was doing, riding through the guilt I had been feeling as I pressed the call button, only for it to ring through to voicemail.

       "Luke please don't be angry... I'm so sorry for pushing you away. I'm so sorry for causing you to fall down the stairs. I love you, please, please call me so I know you don't hate me. I owe you an explanation." I looked over to the clock and saw it was exactly noon. 'He should be awake... I guess I'll go down there if I can't get ahold of him in an hour.'

      I went to fix myself something small to eat for lunch and I watched some telly. I was flipping channels when I suddenly heard something on the news that peaked my interest. "5 Seconds if Summer's Michael Clifford and Ashton Irwin were caught early hours in the morning this morning, leaving a crazy house party, holding hands. As you can see from the video here, Ashton suddenly reaches over and pulls Michael into a surprise, yet very steamy, kiss... What we want to know: Was it from being under the influence of alcohol? Or is our favorite drummer falling for his younger band mate?"

      "Oh shit... Did I see and hear that right?" I pulled my phone out and immediately called Ashton.

____________________________________

C- Calum, A- Ashton

A- "Hey Calum! What's up?" He answered very enthusiastically.

C- "Ashton where are you? What are you doing right now...?

A- "I'm with Michael... Why? Is everything ok? Is Luke alright?"

C- "I haven't been able to get whole of him, but that's not why I'm calling. Were you and Michael leaving a party around 5-7 this morning?"

A- "Uh... Ya why...?" He looked over to Michael with a terrified expression on his face, making Michael freak.

C- "Dude... Fuck, this isn't good... You kissed Michael? And held hands... Right?"

A- "H-How did you know about that Calum?" He asked as color drained from his face as he began to panic.

C- "Oh God Ash... It's on the news... Man the whole world probably knows!" I yelled at him unintentionally. "How the hell will management cover it up?"

A- "I-I don't know..." He sighed letting a couple of tears fall. I hung up the phone, needing to think for a minute. 'God Ash, you guys really fucked up... What's going to happen to the band?' I sighed heavily, deciding to call up Luke again.

____________________________________

C- Calum, L- Luke

L- "Haheh Cally-Poobear! Hi... I miss you... Where are you Cally-Poobear!" He shouted, sounding heavily medicated.

C- "Uhhhh, hi Luke.... I'm at home are you ok...?" I asked feeling semi disturbed by the sudden nickname and the way he was slurring his speach.

L- "They, they cut me open... They... Took my ankle out... Huhaha. I feel weird Calum..." He yawned loudly in my ear and I had to hold the phone away from my ear slightly.

C- "Ok bud, how about I come for a visit would you be alright with that?" He let out a loud squeal. I was more than confused by what he meant by "They took my ankle out..."

L- "CALLY VISITS HMMM! Yaaayyy!" He yelled causing me to jump.

C- "I'll see you in a bit buddy." I hung up the phone grabbing my jacket and keys, although our car was out of commission.

____________________________________

       I got to the hospital in around 30 minutes, due to idiotic taxi drivers. I was ushered up to Luke's room and was slightly still upset and guilty about Luke being here.

       "Hey Luke... How you feeling?" I asked as I walked into the room.

      "Calum! Hey, I didn't know you we're coming." He exclaimed, causing me to give him a questioning look.

      "What do you mean? We just got off the phone like half an hour ago." His mouth formed an "o" and he slowly nodded.

      "I was fucking high as shit... I had just gotten out of surgery for my ankle." He looked down, his face turning bright red. "I apparently flirted with a male nurse, thinking he was a woman for some reason..." I couldn't help, but bust out laughing at the thought of a very straight Luke, unintentionally, flirting with a guy.

      "DON'T LAUGH! Ugh... It's embarrassing enough without you laughing about it." He wiped the back of his neck feeling insanely awkward.

       "Sorry, sorry." I wiped a fallen tear from my eye and smiled at Luke. "You were high so it's not like it was intentional. Besides, I wouldn't judge you if that were to ever happen without you being high. Just saying."

      "Won't happen." He laughed and shook his head. I chuckled an then my face dropped a bit. "You alright Cal?" I looked up at him.

       "What?" I asked him, not realizing I had gone silent.

       "Are you alright? You got quiet suddenly and I watched you go from laughing, to suddenly mopey and, seemingly, depressed." I looked over at him and felt the sting of tears pricking in my eyes and watched as him face softened. He held out his arms and said, "Come here Calum... Tell me what's wrong." As he held me.

      "I feel so guilty... You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me... I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I sobbed heavily leaning into his embrace and his grip on me tightened. "I-I-I pu-pushed you-you away Lu-Lu-Luke... If I had just agreed to check your foot out-"

      "No, Calum look at me." I did as he told me to, looking into his eyes. "Nothing that happened the other night was your fault. Don't blame yourself for something neither of us could control." He explained, making me sob harder. He sighed and pulled me back into the big, letting me cry.

      I felt myself growing queasy again as I continued to weep. Luke was trying, in vain, to calm me down, but I just couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Soon enough I was having a full out anxiety attack. "I-I can-n't bre-eath..."I rasped out, trying desperately to catch a proper breath.

       "Calum, hey you need to calm down. You're going to make yourself sick." I nodded.

      "Al-already feel s-sick." I stammered and he reached over for the sickness bag that was on the bed table. I shook my head slightly. "I don't w-want to be  si-sick again..." His eyes widened.

       "I know Calum... Come on take deep breaths for me, you can do it." I took a shakey breath and went to breath out, only to gag.

Luke's POV:

       I thrusted the bag under Calum's chin, upon hearing him gag. "Let it out, you're ok." I said as I rubbed his back with my free hand, trying to prepare myself for the scene. I was still feeling unbelievably sick myself so I hoped I could get through this without puking myself.

       His body shuddered forward with the force of a dry heave and I internally cringed. I closed my eyes as he brought the contents on his stomach shooting into the bag. He spit several times and took the bag out of my hand. "I'm- *cough* sorry Luke." I shook my head keeping my eyes screwed shut as I felt my stomach twist. "Are you ok...?" I shook my head again and opened my eyes slightly and reached the unopened bag on the beside table. I quickly opened it up as I began to breathe heavily and my mouth filled up with nasty tasting salivia that I could not bring myself to swallow. I found myself vomiting for the 5th or 6th time since I've been here.

      "Ah, I see the nausea isn't giving you a break..." My doctor said, appearing suddenly and scaring the living shit out of both of us. He chuckled and apologized. "So, I'm going to be giving you a bit of medicine and then you are free to go. I have some antibiotics and anti-nausea meds for you, here you go." He handed me the meds and I threw them back, downing them with a gulp of water. "Ok, here are your discharge papers. Come back if you see any sign of infection. Change the dressing every other day and make sure to keep it clean." He smiled. He quickly taught me how to use my crutches and shook our hands.

      I got ready and made sure to grab my ten bags. "So to be quite honest I do not want to see Michael and Ashton..." I told Calum as we left my room and headed toward the elevators.

       "Uhhhh yaaaa, about them... Let's just say Mashton is now a thing..." I looked over to him with an unreadable expression.

        "WHAT!? I'm not against it, but is that what they have been doing while I've been here???" He nodded and told me about the conversation he had with Ash and the news broadcast. "I can't believe that... Why couldn't they have at least waited to make sure I was ok?" I asked as we stepped out of elevator and walked toward the front doors.

       "I don-" Calum went to respond only to get cut off.

      "LUKE! CALUM, OH MY GOD... HI!" Someone suddenly screamed running up to us.

[allylikethecat]

Ally!! Can I just say you make my Tuesdays so fun because i know i get to read fics during lunch instead of stressing out over how insurance won’t cover my patients meds!!!!! 😭💀 (in the end they always pay i just have to fight with them for a couple days 🥲)

anyway— i was scrolling on your ao3 and looking at all the fics you have and i know you’ve answered before but how on earth do you decide which one gets an update??? there are so many and all of them are amazing!! how many chapters do you write at the same time and how far along do you have your current wips thought out?

todays chapter has me anxiously waiting to hear what matty and george are going to say to each other i need tears laughs loves hates basically the whole works and it ends with them being a happy family again 😭😭😭 if i were baby i would need more than a drink rn i’d be like “damn i’m staying in here my life is already insane and im not born yet” anyway—i’ll be back after i get off work to talk more

🥤

AHHH Hello my dear Smoothie Anon! As always it is such a joy to hear from you!

I'm so sorry to hear that lunch is usually spent stressing over insurance related matters (why is insurance always the worse? I just thought for two weeks to get Pop's renewed, and then when it came time for me to pay i was ghosted by my agent for a week, I was like WHERE IS MY INVOICE DON'T YOU WANT MY MONEY?! ALL THE CONTRACTS HAVE BEEN SIGNED) BUT I'm glad that a Ducklings update could be a nice little distraction!

What fic gets updated when usually varies - some fics had set update schedules (ex. All the King's Horses was every Friday) and Rid Me of the Blues was the OG Tuesday update fic (and why Tuesdays became a thing in the first place lol) now it's usually just vibes - if you come to my inbox and scream about a certain fic enough I will probably update it sooner, I also have some really great mutuals who make it very known which fic they would like next lol I try and get to the fics that haven't been updated in a while (which is why today was Ducklings instead of On a Friday.) But other times it's just whatever I'm feeling at the moment. I'm sorry for not having a more concise answer! It pretty much just is vibes though 😬

In terms of how far ahead - Ducklings the outline was tossed out months ago and we are just... seeing what happens I have no master plan (if anyone has a master plan please send it my way) but for YKWTCI (which I know hasnt been updated in ages it just makes me feel weird), On a Friday, and Forever. I do have very detailed outlines of each chapter and what is happening next. Little changes might occur but for the most part there is direction and a plot. I usually try and stay at least one chapter ahead when posting but that doesn't always happen. Forever. is the one I am the most ahead in terms of writing and posting because that is what I'm most excited about, but I also have a decent chunk of the Vampire AU written as well. (And another oneshot that is almost finished 👀) Other than when I was "broken" for a bit there over the summer I'm pretty much always writing!

AH They're FINALLY going to COMMUNICATE like ADULTS (hopefully) but yeah baby wants no part in whatever mess this is between their parents they are like ummm sort it out before my arrival thanks!

Thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to like reach my fics and send me this ask!! It means more than you even know! I hope the rest of your day at work goes / went well! And I hope you have a great night and a fabulous rest of your week! Thank you again for the continued support!

❤️Ally

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 5: Matching Memories

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

Hey guys! Again sorry for the wait! Both my computer and my work schedule have been ass and every time I thought I was going to have free time, I absolutely did not. I was really looking forward to writing this chapter after all the appreciation I got from the last chapter and I am so excited to enduldge you with this 7,356 word chapter. I am also working on a fluffier oneshot that should come out in the next couple days which I am so excited to write! I hope you guys really like this chapter! Love you guys and thank you for 120 Followers!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After the previous nights' escapades, you and Spencer decide to talk about boundaries as your team questions your budding relationship

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slapping, Oral Sex (male and female receiving), Handjob, fingering, pleading, spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare, language, non-intentional self-harm (hard to explain), PDA, degradation, smut smut smut.

Word Count: 7,356

Spencer loved to match everything but his socks. You found that out the morning after your late-night escapades. You weren't sure if your alarm hadn't gone off or if you two had just slept through it but you two were running late and the plane was leaving in 40 minutes with a 30-minute drive to the airport. The actual thing that had woken you up was Morgan banging on the door, notifying you that he had dropped off Spencers go-bag.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" he shouted as he bumped his elbow on the table, hurriedly trying to get his socks on. You peeked around the door frame of the bathroom, checking on him to make sure he was ok as you shoved your toiletries into your bag. You watched, curiously as he stopped what he was doing and purposefully banged his other elbow on the same table. You made a mental note to ask him about it later, but right now, you had to go.

Along the way, you had noticed small habits that Spencer had to keep himself "matching." Once you saw it once, you couldn't help noticing it. How he brushed his teeth the same number of times on each side of his mouth. How he had to eat at least two peanuts at a time so that he could match the chewing on either side of his mouth. These were all harmless, but you worried when he bumped his right temple on the window of the cab as it went over a pothole, and you watched as he proceeded to turn his head and bump the other side. Most of the morning had been held in comfortable silence as you reveled in the afterglow of the previous night. So when you silently reached up to his head and brought it down to your shoulder, Spencer didn't mind. You made sure to gently rub his temple to apply even pressure to make sure his sides matched, a caring gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Luckily you two had made it to the jet on time, only catching a couple of questioning glances from Morgan and Elle as you rushed on, red-faced. You hurriedly sat next to each other as the plane took off, Spencer shoving both of your go-bags in the upper compartment as you held his book. He had brought Graziella, and had already read it 4 times; you, unfortunately, had brought nothing as it was your first trial case. He sat down, and you handed him his book, his fingers tentatively brushed yours in a silent question. Neither of you had fully discussed your relationship this morning in the rush and you could tell he was nervous to talk to you about it. As he pulled away, you captured his wrist before he could go too far, gently drawing a small heart into the inside of his wrist with your finger as you looked up into his eyes. He smiled slightly, understanding that you would talk about it when you had reached home.

This small gesture hadn't gone unnoticed as Morgan watched you from the other side of the jet. He stocked his way up to you with a shark grin on his lips as he smelled blood in the water. "So, You two woke up late huh? How come you never made it back to our room last night, pretty boy?" He mused, enjoying the light pink tinge resting on Spencer's cheeks. "You were the one who took both of our room keys and wouldn't let me in! And- and she was nice enough to let me sleep in her room even though it was a one-person room." He retorted, knowing Morgan's implications. "Woah, chill, Reid. I was just asking some questions." Morgan replied, feigning innocence. "Yeah, I took Reid's virginity last night. How could you tell?" You stated matter of factly, earning a shocked squeak from Reid, and spluttered out laughter from Morgan. "That's what you want to hear right? C'mon Spencer, he’s just giving us a hard time because he wasn't invited to our movie marathon last night." You lied, shooting a joking wink to Spencer, hoping he would get the drift and go along with the story. "Hey, we didn't- yEAh he wouldn't get the nuance of 'Une Femme est Une Femme' and the directorial skills of Jean-Luc Godard." He said, catching on when you pinched the soft spot under his ribs. Morgan just rolled his eyes, frustrated at not getting what he wanted before sulking back to his seat.

You smiled up at Spencer before saying, "Good boy," just loud enough for only the two of you to hear. It was the first time you had alluded to your escapades that yestereve and you both felt a breath of fresh air as the slight tension was lifted off of your backs. Spencer was flustered in multiple ways; he loved the way you praised him, and he now believed you felt regrets about your exchange.

He felt electricity crackling in every gentle secret touch of yours that he had the luxury of experiencing that day; all he could think about was how you had touched him and how your skin felt on his. You had him wrapped all-around your finger, and he couldn't be happier. All he wanted to do was service you and please you, even in non-sexual ways, which he was happy to indulge in as he watched you staring out the window. Your fingers were discreetly tracing small drawings on his knee cap as you watched the clouds pass by. The motion caused him a great distraction from his book, and all he could do was watch your finger. Even though you weren't paying any attention to the motion of your fingers, Spencer could still envision the lines you created carving into his skin. Sometimes a little face, sometimes an abstract geometric rhombus, and his favorite, a heart with puffy humps and a pointy end. Every time you drew it, he became hyper-aware of the gentle flush coloring your cheeks as you looked out the window, sending him a secret message.

He quietly cleared his throat, as to not disturb the others; most of which had chosen to indulge in a little extra sleep to make up for their early morning. It had broken you from your entranced gaze out the window and you looked over at him smiling. "D-Did you bring anything to do on the plane?" Spencer asked as you continued your drawings on his leg. "Surprisingly, that was the one thing I forgot. I was so worried about making sure I was well briefed on the case that I forgot all about the flight." You said, smiling sleepily. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were at that moment. The gentle sunrise behind you in the window illuminated the apples of your cheeks and the highlights in your hair, which was still messy from sleeping so soon after your shower. Your eyes were puffy except for the sockets, which were slightly sunken in from lack of sleep, and you were fresh-faced, small blemishes now in the open, but all Spencer could think was that you reminded him of the fresh air of spring in the morning after a storm. He shook himself from his trance as you began to turn back towards the window. "You know, if you would like, I can read to you." He said shyly. "I know you read faster in your head, don't feel like you have to read to me because I was silly and forgot to bring a book." You said, smiling at his gesture. "N-No, I want to read to you. My mom always used to read out loud to me when I was little when she would wake up early." He said, adding waveringly, "And... and I would like to read to you, not because you didn't bring anything, but because I think you would like this book." You smiled up at him, lifting the fingers you had been swirling on his leg to your lips before gently kissing them, pressing them to his cheekbone, and returning them to their reserved spot on his leg. He took that as a green light to read aloud.

You watched as he closed the page he had been reading to flip to the beginning. You knew he remembered what page he was on but his choice to start you from the beginning melted your heart. He really wanted you to appreciate this story so you were going to give 110% of your attention to the words flowing out of his mouth.

"Ok, this book is Graziella by Alphonse de Lamartine. I arrived at Naples on the first of April. A few days later, I was joined by a young man of about my own age, to whom I had attached myself at college with the friendship of a brother." He began as you listened intently, enjoying the gentle atmosphere created by the soft hum of the jet and snores of your colleagues. Spencer continued reading aloud to you on autopilot as he focused on the drawings of your fingers, now all turned to hearts.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The problem with taking a morning jet home was that you would have to go straight to the office to finish your paperwork before finally being able to rest in your own bed. You all trudged out of the car and into the office in varying states of awakeness, dreading the hours of work to come.

"Welcome back, you guys!" Garcia said, miscalculating the tone in the room, earning her a couple nods and grunts in response.

"Hey, I'm going to my friend's apartment tonight, and she lives by you. Since you take the train home and I'm going that way, do you want a ride?" You said to Spencer, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. For a Genius and a Profiler, he sure was bad at picking up clues and hints. You weren't really going to see your friend, you just wanted some alone time with him to straighten things out, but he obviously didn't understand. "I mean if it's on the way, that would be nice. Thank you Y/L- Agent Y/L/N." He said, nearly forgetting to call you Agent in front of the others. You smiled and headed back to your seat begrudgingly, seeing the mountains of paperwork.

It was kind of sweet how oblivious he was. You were trying to be discreet at work, and you could tell he was trying too. Keyword: trying, as he was failing miserably. You could tell he was trying to be sneaky, but there was nothing sneaky about him following you to the coffee machine every time you needed a refill. He told you it was because he wanted to match and you couldn't help but indulge him. He wanted to match coffee, unfortunately finding out that you did not, in fact, like as much sugar in your coffee as him. You settled for a little bit too sweet and him not enough for the sake of matching. He came to your desk, trying to trick you by asking to borrow a pen, even though you could see his usual green pen in his shirtfront pocket. He was just so cute and just so obvious so you caved, but it was only because you wanted to see the beam on his face knowing there was yet another way you two could match. His boldest move yet was to match sweaters. If you had yours on, he had his on; when you took yours off, he would follow suit. Even though it was very cute, he was being far too bold so after a while, you decided to just keep it on.

Finally, after hours of handwriting reports and witness statements, your cramped hand said a thank you as you signed off your last sheet. You stretched languidly, looking over to Spencer's desk. He had been done for a while but was pretending to be busy so he could wait for you without subliminally pressuring you to hurry. You pulled your go bag and satchel together, getting ready to leave as you watched Spencer hold his bag, waiting for you to make the first move. You clicked your tongue at him as if you were calling a cat, "Let's get going, I don't want to be late to see my friend!" You called over to him as he shot up, padding quickly to catch up to you. "Goodnight guys! Sleep well!" You called to Morgan, Elle, and Garcia, the only ones left in the bullpen. "Ok, now something definitely has to be going on," Elle said as they watched you two leave, Spencer tripping over himself as he got in the elevator behind you.

You two shoved your bags in the back seat and got in the car. As you turned the car, your music started blaring out of the speakers. "Woah! Sorry! I like to drive with the windows down so my music is usually pretty loud." You said as you slammed on the pause button. Spencer was startled but he didn’t mind as he'd just learned new things about you. 1. You like loud music 2. You like the windows down when you drive. 3. You have great taste in music. "That's ok. Just make sure you turn down the volume sometimes, 17% of adults aged 20–69 years have suffered permanent damage to their hearing from noise-induced hearing loss. And that was... certainly loud enough to cause some noise-induced loss. Make sure to take care of yourself." He said and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. His naive sweetness and caring nature had been gnawing at you all day. All you had wanted to do while you were trying to focus on work was kiss him.

You leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Even though you came in slow, you surprised him. Here you were in the Quantico parking lot, boldly kissing him when any of your coworkers could have seen. "Why-why did you do that?" he asked as you pulled away. "I can't?" you asked, pouting slightly, teasing him. "N-No, You can you can, we're just so out in the open, and we haven't talked about anything, so I didn't know how you felt, and you were ignoring me all day." He rushed out as you let out a little laugh at him. "Let's drive, cutie." You said, turning your music back on, this time to a lower volume, as you pulled out of the parking lot and down the street. "First of all sweetness, I wasn't ignoring you all day, I didn't want Morgan to tease you again. You were busy with paperwork and I knew you didn't need him being an asshole to you to make it worse. Second, did you see all the paperwork they had left? There was no way any of them would have been out in the parking lot yet." You said as you smoothly merged onto the highway towards your house.

You were wondering when he was going to notice that he was going in the opposite direction of his house but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You glanced over at him before returning your eyes to the road. You cursed yourself for not having an eidetic memory because you would have kept a snapshot of him like that in your mind forever. His hair, once slicked back, now slightly disheveled from running his hands through it as he did his paperwork and the wind from your open windows. The cool summer wind that rosied his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he gazed out the streetlights overhead. Blue, red, green, purple yellow, white; the blinking lights of the city married the sunset hues that danced across his face. Illuminating his beautifully arched nose and his prominent cheekbones, it felt as if the sun was setting just for him and the city was awakening his beauty.

You smiled to yourself as you switched the cd in the cd player for one of your classics. "Hey! You listen to these guys?! You know I was going to see them last year but then we had this case out of town and I had to miss it. That was when they were still playing at that bar by the Speedway that burnt down." Spencer said excitedly. "Really!? You like them too? I haven't seen them yet but I've been listening to them since college. I never had that much money to be spending on tickets for shows beyond small house shows. I can't believe you like them, I always thought you were more of a Debussy or Chopin person." You replied, excited to have something to share. "Yeah I mean I like pretty much every genre but I've been really into their old stuff lately and, surprisingly, also french 70s music." He said matter-of-factly.

Contrarily, he was fibbing. He knew exactly why he had been listening to it. The previous night he had dreamed of the two of you off the shore, in the south of France in spring, reading books across from each other, legs tangled together, on a chez lounge. Jacqueline Taieb played on the radio as you pulled him up to dance. He removed the thoughts from his mind as he realized his predicament. He didn't know if he was allowed to think about you like that. You had been so sweet and caring towards him last night, and you kissed him so sweetly, but he was still unsure of where you stood. He was still lost in thought as you pulled up to your apartment and parked.

"Hey, this isn't my apartment. Is this your friend's place?" He asked, surprised. "No, Sweetheart. I didn't want Morgan to bother us as we were leaving so I made up some excuse. And this is my apartment. If you want to talk about what happened last night, you can come in. Well, I guess you can come in if you don't want to either, but that's beside the point. If you don't want to talk about it or if you just want me to take you home, I can do that right now. It's up to you baby." You said, gently taking his hand in yours. "I-I want to talk about it." He said shyly. "Alright then, my partner in crime. I will welcome you into my abode. We can order some dinner and talk about it. I'm thinking curry, what about you?" you said.

You could sense his nervousness and tried to lighten the mood even though deep down you were pissing yourself. You had never really done this either. You had a couple of one-night stands and short-term relationships, but nothing that lasted that long, and something in you wanted this time to be different. The young doctor was so endearing, and he was the first person who seemed to be interested in making you happy in the relationship, unlike most of your past suitors. You were terrified that you would push him too far or something would change, and that's why it was so important you had a talk and had trust and communication. You held his hand all the way up the stairs and to your apartment, not letting go when you went to open your door. You told yourself it was to make him feel better but you knew it was because you needed to do something with your hands to get them to stop shaking.

"Sorry, it's not the cleanest space ever. I wasn't expecting guests" you said as you began to tidy up random things around the room, mostly mason jars full of water or a stray empty mug. Spencer took note of his surroundings, drinking everything in. He couldn’t remember what he assumed your apartment would look like because as soon as he entered, he couldn't imagine you living anywhere else. It was all the parts of you that he knew and all of the parts he had yet to learn. He knew that you loved reading, so the bookshelves made sense. He knew that you loved music, so the cd player with piles of CDs next to it made sense. He knew you loved movies, so the VHS player and tv with a built-in DVD player and even more stacks of media made sense. But his favorite part was the giant easel positioned by the window with a large canvas on it. "Wow, Y/N! You paint?" he asked as you continued to clean up. "Oh, don't mind that! Sorry I didn't have time to put it away before we left! I'll get it out of your way!" You said, already carrying a basket full of god knows what in your arms. "No, No! Please leave it out. It's beautiful." He said, looking at your brush strokes. "Suit yourself. Let me know if it gets in your way," you said, finishing your cleaning by fluffing the pillows on your couch.

You finished bustling around your apartment and sat down on your couch across from the TV. He slowly made his way over to you, sitting at the opposite end from you, still unsure of your boundaries. You could spot his nerves from a mile away, so you swung your legs up onto the couch and poked him in his side with your feet. "Why are you sitting so far away, Sweety," you said as he looked over at you. You looked just as you did in his dream, soft and comfy in slouchy clothes. He hadn't noticed that you had changed into some comfy pajama pants and a loose pajama top, and now he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you changed at some point when he was in the room. He knew it was silly. He had already seen you naked, but it all felt like a dream." I'll call and order, and you think about what you want to eat and what you want from me for a bit, ok? I know this great place a couple blocks from here." You said as you pulled out your landline, and dialed the number that you had scrawled on a notepad on your coffee table.

Then, Spencer saw the notepads, notebooks, sticky notes, and other odds and ends that you had all over the house. One on the fridge, one by the easel, one on the tv stand, two on the coffee table. They were all decorated differently for each task, of which he could see two, one titled 'Yummy restaurants' and the other titled 'movies to watch.' He tried to stop his distracting thoughts of how comfortably he fit in your space and how every item embodied you perfectly, all in different ways. When he was finally able to focus, he felt you start absentmindedly kneading your feet on his thigh that was closest to you. He could barely look over at you, finding you unbelievably erotic. He sucked in a breath as your pajama shirt was only buttoned up so much, enticingly drawing his eyes to the swell of your breast that he could see above the collar of your shirt.

You hooked your foot up under his thighs and brought his legs up onto the couch as you continued to order. You tangled your legs together, lifting your right foot to his chest, gently tapping out a rhythm absentmindedly as you talked. You broke through Spencer's entrancement, asking "What do you want to eat?" "Um... Whatever you're getting." He responded, as he still hadn't even begun to look at the menu. "Yeah! Then for the second order, can I get the same thing but make it mild." You said, poking your tongue out at him teasingly before finishing your order.

You two walked to pick up your food, talking about nothing in particular. You didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room until you got back, so you filled the space with meaningless conversation that instantly stopped as you entered the house. It was silent as you got forks ready, spying Spencer sitting rigidly straight on the couch, waiting for you.

"You know, you were so bold in the office today that I didn't expect you to be this shy when we got here. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to, sweet-" "I do, I really do." He said, cutting you off. "Ok! That's great. Well, I'm going to start off by saying that any relationship like this, whatever you want that to be, depends on strong trust and communication. That goes beyond the bedroom. Being on the team I trust you with my life. I know I'm new so I understand if you don't trust me yet but I just wanted to set that baseline with you. I'm going to be 1000% truthful with you and I'm going to start by saying this. I don't regret anything that we did last night. I loved what we did last night and I really like doing this with you. I want to explore with you if you would be so gracious as to let me. I find you very interesting, and I would like to be friends or more depending on what you want as we continue our rendezvous." You said as you grasped his hands, willing him to look into your eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. "I really liked what we did yesterday too. I was kind of worried that you regretted it or something. I'm really really new to everything, but I feel comfortable exploring if it's you. You made me feel really safe last night and I appreciate that a lot. I find you really beautiful and sexy and intriguing and I would like to be friends and maybe more with you now. I don't know if I'm allowed to say this... but I want to." He said, gaining some confidence. "You are allowed to say whatever you want, baby. That's why we have open communication. Everything is to make sure you are feeling as good and safe as possible," you said, rubbing his hand. " You should feel safe and good too. I know you are more experienced than me, but you deserve to be safe too." He said gently before continuing. "I was wondering if... if I could request that this be monogamous. I get really upset thinking about you with someone else." He said, and you could feel the shaking in his hands as he anticipated your reply. "Of course, sweetheart. I was hoping you would ask. Maybe I'm a little selfish, but I don't like to share my things. They're mine for a reason." You said before planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, earning a smile from him. "But I think, for now, I would like to be friends and see how it goes from there while we... explore," Spencer said. You nod and smile in agreement.

"Alright, so Spencer, tell me what you're interested in, sexually. What do you think about when you jerk off? What did you think about when you read my book?" You asked nonchalantly, as you picked up your curry and rice, taking a bite as if you'd just asked him about the weather. "w-well, I think about a lot of things." He sputtered out. "Just give me a little list I can work off." You said in between bites. "Um, I like seeing you naked. I like it when we match because it feels like we have a deep connection. I like h-how you touched me yesterday. I want you to touch me more." He said shyly, hiding his face behind his cup of water. "And the other two questions?" You prodded, watching as the bulge grew in his pants. "Um, what do I think of when I jerk off? Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this," He blushed before continuing. "I think about how it would feel to have your mouth wrapped around my cock. I think about you calling me a naughty boy. I think about you praising me. I think about your book and how there's so much more that I have to read. I think about you not wearing panties at work. And I think even more about pulling you into the storage closet, lifting up your skirt, and fucking you while everyone is working. I think about your piercings, and I think about your piercing chapter."

"What did you think of that chapter by the way? You ran off to the bathroom pretty quick. What were you thinking of doing to me, naughty boy?" you said, setting your food down on the table, leaning towards him, hands planted on his thighs. "Tell the truth, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," You said, squeezing into his thighs. He bucked up towards you, searching for friction in any way he could." f-fuck. I read the chapter when I was touching myself. I thought about how you had pointed at my boner, and I thought about how I wanted you to make fun of me, and smack me, and punish me for being naughty." he said hurriedly, hoping his answer would satiate you. "Nuh-uh! Come on, tell me the whole truth," you said and smacked his thigh. He yelped as your hand came down, leaving him with a dull sting. "Ok! But it's embarrassing so don't laugh... I thought about you cockwarming me while I pierced your tongue, and how you would drool, and how you would squeeze around me. I thought about how I wanted to mark you and make you mine." He said, covering his eyes, hiding from his shame and how it made his cock stir in his pants. "You naughty, naughty boy, Spencer Reid. I thought you were innocent but here you are with your hand on your cock, at work, thinking about my pussy and my tongue and my spit, and it made you cum. What a rascal!" you said, watching for a reaction in his pants.

You pried his arm from his eyes, so he was forced to look at your smirk. His face and neck were a deep pink, and his lips were as pillowy and soft as a rose petal from biting his them. You couldn't help yourself as you pounced on him. You knew this was supposed to be just a talk about boundaries, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air that had been lingering from the moment you had woken up. He looked so fucked out, even though you hadn’t touched him yet and part of you wanted to absolutely ruin him that night. "Remember your colors, baby. What are you feeling?" You said, now perched in his lap. "Green, green. P-Please touch me." As he said it, you ground down on him. While you were in your comfortable clothes, he was still in his tight corduroys and button-down, sweater long gone somewhere else in the apartment. "Have you ever heard of something called edging?" You asked, and he nodded excitedly. "What about overstimulation?" You said, and he nodded quickly again. "What do you think about them?" He nodded, and you smacked him, not as hard as you would usually go, but enough to leave a sting. "Use your words, naughty boy." You said, capturing his jaw and tilting his face up to meet yours. "Yes, please. I'm so green. I have been wanting you to do this, please." He shot out through squished cheeks, looking at you with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen. His warm hazel eyes, now shiny and black with desire.

You got up off of him, and he whined, missing the warmth of your body on his. You grabbed him by the back of his neck like he was a naughty kitten, and pulled him down the hall and into your bedroom. Before he could take in your room, you pushed him back on the bed. "Strip." You commanded, and your scent overwhelmed him. Your daily aroma that intoxicated him was ten times weaker than the pure pheromones that blanketed your room. Spencer mused that your room must have been built to have sex in. Your bedside tables were adorned with candles, incense, your daily jewelry, and a pair of your panties. You had a red canopy on your four-poster bed that draped your room in a soft red glow.

Your figure was obscured by the canopy as you moved some items around your room. Spencer was lost in your scent, the idea of finally being in your room, and possibly a little lost staring at the panties on your table, making him move too slow for your liking. You parted the fabric and crawled up the bed to him. "Spencer Walter Reid, if you don't strip now, you're going to get a spanking. You have been such a naughty boy today. I thought you were going to be a good boy for mommy but I guess you want to get punished." You said as you slinked back off the bed. "I'm going to count down from 10 and if you aren't naked by the time I reach 0, you are getting spanked. Understood?" You said, and he squeaked out and "Understood!" "10... " Who knew it took so long to unbutton a dress shirt? "9... " Now, his hands were stuck in his sleeves. "8..." Shirt off. "7..." Is his belt broken, or is he shaking too much? "6..." Belt undone but not off. "5..." Pants, ok. "4..." Fuck, his shoes are stuck on. "3... 2... 1... 0. STOP NOW"

You parted the curtain, smirking down at him. "I think I said naked, not underwear on." You said, looking down at him. "You didn't give me enough time!" He whined but you were already flipping him onto your lap with his ass perched in the air. "Color?" You asked, earning his eager response of "Green, so green." You pulled his underwear off and hung it on the corner of your side table, right next to your own panties. The sight was oddly domestic, making him even harder as he tried to rut into your leg. Your hand came down hard on his ass and he bucked into you moaning in shock. "You naughty boy, pathetically rubbing on me. Does my thigh feel good baby?" you asked, and he nodded. Your hand came down hard on his other cheek "How many times do I have to tell you? Use. Your. Words." Punctuating your last three words with three more smacks to his ass, gently rubbing the red skin as he cried out. "Yes, mommy! Your thigh feels so good! Thank you so much!" he said as he ground himself down on you pitifully. "Why is mommy punishing you, sweetheart?" you said, sweetening your tone. " Because I didn't get dressed?" He asked. "Hm, if you were really sorry, you would know what you were sorry for. What are you being punished for? One more chance." You said, smoothing over the plains of his ass. "For being a naughty boy who doesn't listen and rubs his cock on mommy too much." He said. "So close, baby!" You said as you brought down one last smack to his ass as his cock leaked precum all over your legs. "You were getting punished because you don't listen and because you were being really naughty at work, sweetheart. But you took punishment so well, so you deserve a treat." You said as you flipped him over, making sure he was laying in a comfortable place on the bed.

"C-can we match?" He said, pulling on your sweater. You smiled down at him sweetly as you stripped, taking your time to let him gaze over the planes of your body. When you returned, you sat high up on his stomach, making sure he couldn't get any friction against you as you kissed him softly. He was still a little clunky when it came to kissing but when you took it slow, it helped him warm up to your motions until you two were completely in sync.

"Alright, so I'm going to do some new things. Let me know at any time if you aren't comfortable or you want me to stop." You said, and you turned so you were sitting on his chest, looking down at his cock, as he got a wonderful view of your ass and the dimples in your back as your muscles flexed. You collected some spit in your mouth and let it drip down slowly onto the head of his already overly excited cock. He hissed as your finger swirled in the spit that pooled at the base of his cock as you wet your hand before grasping his length. Even though he had felt this exact same thing yesterday, he could never get over the sensation of your hand squeezing around him, circling his cock, and playing with the tip with your thumb. You spit into your other hand and wrapped both hands around his length, working them up and down his shaft, gently twisting and squeezing. The best part was that he couldn’t see anything you were doing. It was like he was blindfolded, stomach muscles tensing in anticipation of your touch.

"Fuck baby I'm close." And that was when you stopped. right as he was about to cum, you squeezed down hard at the base of his cock. "You don't cum until I do." You said, scooting your core back so that it was a couple tantalizing inches away from his face. "Really? You'll let me eat you out? For real?" He asked, mind blown at the idea of eating you out. "I was hoping you would." You replied, waiting for him to make a decision. He hooked your arms around your thighs and pulled you into him so hard, you were worried he broke his nose at first. 'I need a man who eats pussy like it's the only way to quench his thirst' rung out in his head. That's what you had written in your journal titled "Male needs" and he wanted to be a Male that you needed, so that's what he did. He flattened his tongue as he licked a long stripe up your folds, and back down to your clit, latching on hungrily, alternating between sucking hard and twirling his tongue on it. "H-Holy shit Spencer." You moaned, and you knew you wouldn't last long. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you were soaking wet just from teasing and punishing him. That, coupled with how sweet his tongue was on your core, and you were done for. You certainly had never had a man eat you out like this, much less a virgin. "Shit baby, you're so good? How did you get so good?" You asked incredulously, as he reached his hand back around and inserted a finger between your folds, giving his mouth a short break. "I read the literature and from what I saw, the g spot should be about here." He said before curling his fingers inside of you, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to moan deeply. His smirking mouth found its way back to your clit as he added another finger, working your g spot with feverish strokes.

"Fuck, baby! I'm cumming!" You shouted and right as you were reaching your peak, he stopped everything. "What the fuck are you doing!?" You yelped at him, your mounting peak now decrescendoing before ever hitting the climax. "I thought we were matching. You're edging me, I'm edging you." He said innocently, but you could hear his smirk tinging his words. "You just want to be punished huh?" You said and squeezed down on his base as you kissed the tip of his cock. "Naughty boys don't get proper head. When you make me cum, then I'll actually suck your cock. Got it?" You asked as he bucked his hips"Yes." He replied fervently.

This was his first-ever experience getting head, so of course, you were going to give him a good time. He would just have to wait. You held down at the base of his aching cock as you lazily sucked and licked the head. Not even close to the usual effort you would put in, but it was enough to make his legs shake and finger you faster. His mouth was too busy panting and whining to eat you out but you were fine with that because the way he was curling his fingers was creating a knot in your stomach and you could feel your impending release. "Fuck baby I'm cumming. Let me cum this time." You said and he reattached his mouth to your clit, sucking hard as he used all of his willpower to keep himself from cumming. And just like that, you're cumming all down his face and fingers as you shake but he keeps going, this time with more enthusiasm, riding you through your orgasm and overstimulating you. You eagerly take him into your mouth all the way, sucking hard, lathering his length with your spit, and in two seconds he is cumming hard down your throat. "Mommy I'm cumming" He said a little too late as you had already swallowed around him.

You were both so caught in the afterglow that you just kept going. Aftershock spurts of cum kept shooting down your throat but you kept sucking. You wanted him needy and wrecked under you. "Oh my god! ah! AH!" He said, shaking as you keep sucking him down. He keeps finger fucking you as if he is possessed. You are both riding your highs and are so overstimulated that in no more than a minute you are both cumming all over again as sobs wrack your bodies.

You flop down next to Spencer and kiss his cheek tentatively, knowing most men don't kiss after head. Spencer leans up, kissing you passionately, tangling his tongue in yours, tasting your release on each other's tongues. "Flip over baby," You said as he rolled over. You pulled out your lotion from your bedside table, gently warming up a small amount in your hands before spreading it on his butt. "I don't know about you, but I'm way too tired to take a shower tonight. I'm just going to put our leftovers in the fridge and brush my teeth. I have some spare toothbrushes if you would like to borrow one, and some pajamas." You said to a very sleepy Spencer. He didn’t even say anything, he just grumbled and got up, leaning on you.

He helped you clean up, both still naked, enjoying the domesticity of just walking around completely vulnerable together. You needed to brush his teeth for him as he sat on the toilet lid and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a little baby, barely clinging to the little energy it had before a nap. You got him up and back in bed, looking down at his naked form, now noticing the gentle matching bruises on either side of his body. “I know you like to match but take care of yourself. Don’t bang yourself up so much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You said as you picked his clothes off of the floor. You reached down for your pajamas but before you could get them back on or pull him into his, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down on top of him."I’ll try to stop. Only for you, and only because you asked so nicely. Right now, I’m too sleepy, let's sleep naked. Night night." He mumbled into the crook of your neck. Warmth enveloped your body at his words, “only for you.” Somehow that was all it took to finally give in to sleep's welcoming grasp, reveling in the warmth shared between your skin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

And there we go, that's chapter five! Make sure to give me any comments, criticisms, or ways to better the plot. I hope you guys liked this chapter. I tried to balance out the sweet and spicy aspects of this one. I hope you guys have a great night!

Tag List: @spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @spencersmagic @uhuhuh @living-for-romance @aharvey979 @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @marrymespencerrei @crypticcorvidinacottage , @ladydragoneye , @stjoaninthewildwest

[directionoftime]

Hi! How are you? Hope you’re well!

Sorry if I’m bothering you but I came across you fics and Im dying to read Storm Cloud but me, as silly as I am, I try to avoid to read unfinished stories cause I got attached to the stories and don’t know how to live without an ending to it….

So, all of this to ask if you please may consider writing the end of it…

Also another question: the number of chapters changes from ffnet and ao3, why is that? It’s due to the those sites structure to post?

Tá

Hi Anon,

Ah Storm Cloud... my first great love, and my greatest tragedy... and now seemingly cursed to wander the interwebs unfinished and loved only at a distance.

The early days of SC being written (where I'd update somewhere between a few days/week) was great going, I got to about the 200-250k mark no problems but life took over, I had to move (jobs/country) and life in general just got stressful in ways that parasitised my creativity. In addition to this, the story just stopped getting any engagement, the comments before (and on other stories like I Missed Again and Go No Further carried over a lot of the same readers and we had some great convos) But as my update turn around slowed, they dropped away - and I completely get it: the longer the update schedule you forget the nuance of the chapter/story and your interest wanes (I've been guilty of this myself more than once!) Soon, the only kind of comments I was getting were (quite literally): "more! XD"

or

"kill urself, virgin s---"

As you might imagine, neither of those particularly helped my already struggling creativity. In the earlier days of writing SC I was in some difficult situations and the good interactions offered me some level of positive social interaction I had precious little of in real life (this might sound weird, but the people I worked with were... hmm... unkind, shall we say).

I had no one else in my life who knew I wrote, or if they did assumed it was something silly, stupid and time wasting. They dgaf about anything I was doing.

So, to address your point of saying you only like to read finished stories: yes, I do understand that - it is frustrating beyond words to read so much of a story and get invented for it to just... end. But, if you can, think of it from my perspective (and other fan-fic authors) for just a moment:

You're expecting me (in context of SC) to run a hyper marathon with no support, no engagement, no feedback, nothing until it's done. [context: I estimate SC to be complete at 350k - that's a 700 page novel!] And then, maybe, I can expect a single comment (which may or may not provide feedback, offer anything kind to say, or any kind of useful positive comment) in return? Doesn't that sound just a little skewed to you?

I'm not attacking you here, I just tying to illustrate that writing takes time, effort, creativity, hard work and a lot of emotional labour (if you're really putting in effort, you need to understand your character, get into their headspace etc - this will vary a bit between authors tho).

In the midst of writing my longer form stories -- I cannot express to you what a well-spring of creativity and passion directly came out of reading comments from my readers. Even when I thought myself out of ideas, I'd read some lovely comments and the sparks were FLYING BABEY!

This has been hashed out by others in past, a probably much more eloquently, but we don't get paid, we have other pressing life responsibilities that no, cannot wait for fan-fiction.

I and others have said: comments are our 'pay'

I write because I love it, but I ALSO love engaging with others about my writing, writing stories that offer people a chance to practice emotions, or follow interesting stories, maybe it's just a free piece of fiction that lets them escape their "real life" for a few minutes - and the stresses there in. There is something magical there, writing a story that someone else loves? That's some lifting the veil of the universe sh-t right there!

There are a million reasons why we write and why we read - and why we (as humans) derive so much pleasure from it.

You get to decide how you interact with fandom (that's really only your choice and I don't mean this in a 'i think ur wrong' kind of way) so I'm not telling you do this or not do that, but I do just want you to consider this perspective the next time you pass over a story because it's "not finished" There is a person on the other end of that story -- the author -- and your willingness to skip over their story, might just be the thing that creatively starves them.

But to answer your question? Eh... maybe. It's been so long even I'm out of the loop of SC and can't really remember some finer points, so it's up in the air I'm afraid. (Diff chapters? Uh might just be because my posting there hasn't kept up whilst I was trying to edit typos/stupid mistakes etc)

I have some original novels and stories I'm working on atm anyway and I've just finished my Masters so I'm currently burnt out to fu-k.

Fandom we're the only ones keeping it and each other alive - please don't be afraid to spread some love!!! <3

[maychorian]

Hey, so, i hope you're not bothered or annoyed by this, you can really just ignore me if you are... I just wanted to know if you could tell us about the future of yofa, bc I'm a shitty reader and too obsessed by your fic to sit and wait for the next chapter, although you're so amazing and super fast with the uploads. Like, is mcdaniels gonna play a role, or will tim have breakdowns or fights with the others, or anything else that would be okay to share? I'm really sorry for being like this

Ha, you're not annoying. I'm quite pleased to know that I have readers who are impatient for more, truly. The problem is that I don't really have answers for you, because I don't know. I've talked about this on my blog before, but I am very much a seat-of-the-pants kind of writer, or a gardener. I don't make outlines, because it's not fun for me to write like that. When I write a long, detailed outline, I lose all interest in actually writing the story, because it feels like I've already done it. It becomes work instead of play at that point, and fanfiction is very much my playtime.

I like to plant ideas and watch them grow, or dig the story up from the dirt of the subconscious like a big boulder (Stephen King's analogy for how he writes). One of my favorite writing quotes is about how writing a novel is like driving a car at night--you can only see as far as the headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. I believe that's from E.L. Doctorow, and I don't know who that is, but I agree with that philosophy.

This has the downside of me having tons of WIPs that will probably never be finished, at least one in every fandom I've written more than a one-shot for. But the upside is that I have a lot of fun writing, and I go through the same emotional rollercoaster as my readers. I often feel compelled to keep writing because I want to know what happens next, just like you do.

That's also why I don't have an update schedule. That would require me to have, like, a backlog of chapters, or at least some idea of what's happening next. I tend to write a chapter over the course of three or four hours, give it a cursory reading for typos, and post it immediately. I usually only figure out what the next chapter is going to be about after cogitating on the last one I wrote for a few days. Right now, I'm thinking that the next chapter will be about Tim's friends visiting him at the manor, but I need to read more Young Justice before I feel comfortable writing Conner, Bart, and Cassie, so it might be a while before that chapter comes out. Or I could realize that something else needs to happen first, as has happened several times over the course of the story.

I do have...vague ideas about what might be up ahead in the future. Someday. Maybe. These ideas might or might not happen, or they might be in a different form by the time I get to them. I'll put them under a read more, just in case anyone wants to avoid even possible spoilers.

Edit: Frigging heck, tumblr won’t save the read more line. Whatever, if you don’t want to see possible spoilers, hit J on your keyboard now.

As for McDaniels, he will be returning to the story, but I'm not sure when. It might be at the end, as some sort of catharsis for Tim, or it might be in the middle as part of a plot complication. For now he's too much of a useful motivation for Tim to have anxiety and Jason to want to protect him, therefore keeping Jason in the picture when he might otherwise take off. The family and their allies will keep looking for him, and it's going to be a major frustration and source of friction that he's so hard to find. I definitely have a picture in my head of Tim going out in the city for the first time since the incident and thinking he sees McDaniels, then having an anxiety attack that Jason or someone else will have to comfort him through. That idea has been in my head since very early in the writing process, but who knows if it will happen.

Tim having breakdowns? Very probable. Fights? Maybe. Eventually he and Dick do need to work out the hurt between them. But Dick has promised to let Tim take the lead on that, so it will have to be on his terms, and I don't know when Tim will be ready for that conversation.

I have ideas about Damian. I'm thinking that Tim is going to be very bored, waiting for his body to heal enough that he can do things again. He can't even exercise until his ribs and knee heal up some, he can't swim with his casts, he can only type with one finger, and that kind of hurts...all he's going to be able to do for a while is sit around and watch TV or listen to Jason read to him, and that's going to get old, fast. So he might take an interest in Damian. Damian is puzzling, and Tim likes to solve puzzles. It remains to be seen whether or not Damian will appreciate the attention. Probably not.

But Damian's feelings are evolving, too. He hasn't been in prolonged contact with Tim...ever. And he has promised to be civil, as well. It's going to force them to find new ways to communicate, new ways to be around each other. Jason might also be helpful for bridging the gap there, since he spent time with the League and will probably understand Damian in a way no one else does.

Also, bored Tim results in Jason taking him on rides on his motorcycle. Great bonding. Tim likes to go fast.

Once the casts come off and the pins comes out, Tim's hands are going to be very weak and shaky. He's going to need a lot of therapy, and it's going to be frustrating and painful. Also: hand massages help. (Dick is also going to keep treating his back, trying to minimize the scarring from the whip marks. Because it really, really sucks for a teenage kid to have whip scars.) So they're all going to take turns massaging Tim's hands when they get cramped, and it's going to turn out that Damian is the best at it. Damian is going to be territorial about this, because it's something tangible he can do that is visibly helping, and as much of a brat as Damian is, he also has the heroic, helpful impulse as well. Once the dust settles and Damian and Tim are more like friends and brothers than they have been in the past, Damian will be just as protective of Tim as everyone else in this story. That's the end goal I have for them.

One thing that will happen relatively soon is Bruce enacting a Big Comfy Couch Protocol, or BCCP for short, in order to be a better dad to his children, all of whom have trauma of varying levels. When one of the kids is having a bad day, or feeling fragile, or suffering nightmares or flashbacks or what have you, or just needs their dad for whatever reason, all they have to do is tell Bruce that they need to activate BCCP, or BCC Protocol. Bruce will nod seriously, then set aside at least an hour in his schedule. And they will go sit together on a big comfy couch in a quiet room, just the two of them. It might involve cuddling, or talking, or just being together, whatever the kid needs. But it'll be just the two of them, no work, no books or movies, no distractions. Because Bruce needs to be very deliberate about connecting with and being there for his kids, and putting a structured protocol in place to make sure that happens is a very Batman thing to do.

Tim will probably drag Jason along for his BCCP time, because of the bodyguard thing. (And because Jason would never do it for himself, and Tim knows he needs it and is not even a tiny bit above manipulation to get his way or help other people.) Eventually they're all gonna like it, though.

And...that's pretty much it, so far. I think about this story a lot, so new ideas pop up and float away in my head all the time, but they're mostly about what's going to happen or might happen in the next chapter. Like, I imagined the conversation between Jason and Bruce going a bunch of different ways. Once I actually sat down and wrote it, though, it turned out differently than anything I'd come up with in my head before.

And that's why I like writing this way. It's always surprising. I let the characters go, and they do things I don't expect ninety percent of the time.

[elsaclack]

Hi :) This might sound weird haha but I adore reading you talk about your writing, it's really inspiring and I feel like I learn a lot of things every time I read you talk about it (you know I'm a fan of your style haha). And anyways while I was reading your answer to your last anon, this struck me: "when i was outlining that chapter i think the only line i dedicated to the actual fight itself was “and then they have a crazy knife fight (good luck future me)”" and I wanted to ask you (1/2?)

(2/3?) do you have like any tips for writing a multichapters fic? I guess from what you wrote here you outline the whole thing before you start with it? Or it depends or the story and sometimes you just go with the flow and see where it goes haha? Do you mind sharing some of your writing process of multichapter fics? :3 Bc I tend to get "bored" really easily and if I don't finish something in one sitting I usually never ever finish it. But also I'd like to learn how to take my time sometimes

(3/3) and idk maybe learning how to properly "get ready" to write something long would help haha. I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense at all but yeah in any case just thank you for blessing my nights with your fics and killing me over and over with feels, I'm sure I said it before but you (and all of the amazing writers this fandom is blessed with) are a true inspiration!!!

you are SO sweet to me i die fhflkdsjf

i’m gonna go ahead and throw 100% of my answer under the cut because i haven’t even started yet and i know this is about to be. So Long. i am sorry in advance lmao

there are a couple of different aspects to this ask that i want to touch on so i will be as brief as possible but as i have proven twice over tonight alone, i am really not capable of that lmfao

i’d say first and foremost, the biggest thing you can do to help yourself in this arena is figure out how to best discipline yourself. which SUCKS it’s like the worst most mom answer ever but in all honesty, developing discipline in writing is what separates the “i could write a book” people from the people who actually do write books. everyone is capable of writing, but not everyone has the discipline or patience to do so. long-form narrative requires even MORE discipline than a one-shot (or even a long one-shot) because it’s like you said, it requires the author to come back over and over and over again to write new material and edit existing material and figure out a way to cohesively connect everything they’ve written into one consistent narrative, and some people have a much harder time with that than others do. there’s nothing wrong with that either way!! the world needs short stories just as much as it needs longer stories. but if you’re wanting to work on writing longer-form narratives, working out a way to best discipline yourself should probably be your number-one goal.

that kind of brings me to my next point (and also ties in part of what i was talking about in that other ask) - comparing your writing style, your progress, your everything to other writers will only lead to heartache for you. when i first started reading and writing for b99 i came across a specific author (who is now one of my dear friends) whose fics were just. next-level works of art. and while i read through just about everything she’d written for b99 and LOVED every single one of them, i found myself getting more and more down on my own writing, because i knew i’d never be able to write like her. but the more comfortable and confident i got in my own writing, the more i realized that it’s less about writing more like That Person and more about developing my own style (my favorite comparison to make between my writing and hers now is that hers are like beautiful and intricate fairy tales, and mine are more of a smokey back room at a bar where a guy is sitting alone at a table and he says “come here and listen to this story.” they’re both Very Different, and perhaps have varying audiences, but one is not inherently Better Or Worse than the other). all of this to say, if you’re working as hard as you can and being really disciplined but still find yourself struggling with writing a multichap, THAT’S OKAY!!! there’s NOTHING wrong with that!!! your writing, however short or long, serves an INCREDIBLY important purpose within the fandom as a whole and no matter what, there will ALWAYS be an audience for your writing.

so okay as for the actual Advice!!! i actually have a couple of steps that i usually follow prior to actually Writing the first chapter of any long fic i’ve written (or am in the process of writing...@king and lionheart yikes). i have yet to really find any consistency in how i think of ideas for multichaps - so far the idea every multichap i’ve written has come from a different source (which is actually kind of Frustrating for reasons i won’t get into). but basically once i actually have An Idea, i’ll take a day or two to kind of think it over and flesh it out as much as possible. if it really starts expanding in detail and an actual Story constructs itself around the idea, i’ll move on to the next step, which is to find a few trusted mutuals here on tungle.corn and say “heyyYYY CAN I YELL ABOUT AN IDEA I HAVE FOR A SECOND” and then spill everything i’ve thought of so far. usually i can tell if an idea will live or die based on these conversations - if the other person is Into It and we start sort of developing the world within the chat, i know it’s time to really sit down and make an effort to pursue the fic. in that case, i will go and copy&paste that part of our chat into a google doc and i’ll build an outline in a separate doc. i used to despise outlines and i would refuse to do them in high school, but once i got into writing as a hobby and i started pursuing longer narrative forms, i tried once or twice to write a multichap without an outline and i just forgot a lot of the details i originally wanted to include, which left me feeling really frustrated with myself and with my writing. i came to realize that outlines kind of a necessary evil, so in writing them i made them as fun for me as possible (i.e. the “good luck future me” line from the king and lionheart outline i mentioned lmao). now i love them and i have them open at all times while i’m working on writing a new chapter.

so i know that i started this off by saying that writing multichaps requires a special kind of discipline, and i stand by that, but also...writer’s block and real life responsibility and just plain exhaustion are all Very Real Things, and they take precedent over keeping up with a publishing schedule (if you’re so inclined to make one of those for yourself). when i started writing king and lionheart, i didn’t know at that point that i would be headed back to school in the spring, and thought that i would have all the time in the world to write. right around november, i realized that i would be going back to school - that’s about the time i took an unofficial hiatus from writing king and lionheart, because i knew trying to keep up with writing that fic the way that i want it to be written and all of the intensive and demanding coursework was going to kill me. taking a step back from posting and coming back to it later is okay. i know i talk a lot about feeling guilty for not having an update for king and lionheart (and the cancer au before it) but in all honesty i know that it’s okay for me to take some time and deal with my real life. and, you know, it’s also okay to lose inspiration for a while and to take a step back until that inspiration comes back. i think it’s that fear of not being able to take longer breaks between updates that scares a lot of people off from even trying to write a multichap - as the queen of procrastination, i am here to tell you that it is 100% okay to start a multichap and to take a break and come back to it when necessary!

writing a multichap is very much like running a marathon - it requires a different kind of energy than a 400 meter sprint or a 1k fluffy oneshot. it’s gonna hurt and it’s gonna suck and there are gonna be times when you’re ready to just quit writing altogether. but there will be parts that are really fun and really easy and you’re gonna get some really great views along the way - and at the end when you cross that finish line and you’re able to check that “complete” box on ao3 before you post the last chapter, you won’t remember the parts that sucked. trust me!! i wouldn’t write as many as i do if the actual shitty parts of the writing process negated the good things that come from writing it and sharing it with other people!

it’s also worth noting that just because you get bored with an idea doesn’t mean that you can’t pick it up again later!!! honestly the first 2 or 3 paragraphs of on your heart like a tattoo sat in my google docs for MONTHS before i randomly decided one day to open it and take a crack at finishing it, and to this DAY i’m still getting people regularly commenting on it. every idea has its purpose and its place, even if it doesn’t always immediately seem like it.

i really hope this helps and i’m sorry if it doesn’t!!! you are such a kind and wonderful person and i absolutely adore you