#all jokes aside I wish Matt all the best and completely understand why he’s leaving

[ascensabyss]

my internet dad is quitting youtube…

[thefanficmonster]

And My Heart Burned In That Lodge

Michael (Mike) Munroe x Reader (female)

Warnings: Death, Grief, Dealing with loss, Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: ANGST

Summary: None of them will ever be the same, who knows if they’ll even heal. However, the case is different for Mike. He’s left to be dealing with the guilt, grief and the haunting memory of his friend’s death. He’s angry with himself for all the wrong things he did and all the right things he was too much of a coward to do. Now, his only closure is talking to a gravestone, hoping the wind in the graveyard will pass the message onto the person who the words are meant for.  

Requested by Anon. Wish I could tag them, they have such amazing ideas ❤

PS - Sorry this is hella long, I got carried away LOL

I stand aside, watching as my friends place their flowers on her grave. I can hear their cries. For some odd reason I can’t find it in me to feel sympathy or the need to go over there and be with them. I can’t see how that would do anything but make me feel more miserable. Standing here, seeing this scene unfold in front of me, I can’t help but be reminded of how it all started.

Fuck Mondays, man. Fuck them from the bottom of my heart. Even worse, this is the first week of school after winter break so no one wants to be here. Even even worse, this is the first time I’ll be seeing Emily after out breakup. We broke up over text and while I’m aware that’s the worst way to break up with someone, I must admit it was the only way for a lot of arguing and awkwardness to be avoided. 

It’s the first time I’m coming to school alone in a while. Without Emily, the car was pleasantly quiet aside from the songs on the radio. Not gonna lie, it felt a bit lonely. Being single for the first time in what feels like forever is both liberating and oddly melancholic. I try to push the self-loathing and the depressing thoughts away as my eyes scan the hallway, looking for the group of familiar faces. My gang. We used to be ten people but we lost two girls during our winter getaway at the Washington lodge. Josh’s sisters, Hannah and Beth, went missing and are presumably dead, all cause of a stupid prank Jess, Emily and I concocted, convincing Matt and Ash to go along with it. In retrospect, I don’t know what we were thinking.

‘Seriously, Mike? From one depressing thought to another? Is your brain lacking serotonin today more than usual or what?‘ I mentally scold myself just as I spot two familiar faces - Sam and Ashley. 

It doesn’t take long for me to notice the rest of the gang - Matt, Jess and Chris - all standing near by, surrounding a girl I have never seen before. She sticks out immediately with her long H/C hair and shiny E/C eyes. Jess has her arm linked with the girl, a gesture really out of place for Jess. I mean, her and Emily are pretty close and I’ve never even seen them hug.

“Hey, man. How are you?“ Matt notices me first, lifting his head and smiling at me. His greeting leads the others to look in my direction as well, including the girl. I catch Jess lean down in and whisper something to her. I can’t hear what she’s saying but it clearly aggravates her. I have never received a dirtier look from a girl in my entire life. I usually have the opposite effect on women but I guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“Mike...” Jess steps away from the girl and towards me, “this is my best friend, Y/N. She just got transferred here.” She turns her attention back to the girl, “Y/N, this is Mike.” 

Y/N looks unamused as she outstretches her arm in my direction. “Nice to meet you” is what she says, but her expression clearly tells me she would like to see as little of me as possible. At least she’s polite, right? 

“Likewise.” The handshake is brief and, despite her obvious distaste for me, she still gives me a firm handshake. 

“Wait, you were transferred? I thought Jess said you came here cause you moved.” Sam furrows her brows in confusion. 

“Well, it’s really a chicken and the egg type of situation.” Y/N laughs, rubbing the back of her neck almost nervously, “We moved because I had to transfer.”  Yikes.“ Ashley comments, “Not to pry or anything, but why did you have to be transferred?“

Y/N looks me dead in the eyes, as if she’s sending me a message that I better not overlook, or so help me God I’ll be dead. ”Noses randomly broke when I was around.”

It hurts so much to look back on those times and not pick up on what I was feeling. I foolishly decided that if I can’t give the feelings a name or find them a purpose I should turn a blind eye. I wasn’t that ignorant, I could tell she was the cause, but I could never admit it.

And then there’s the situation with Jess...

“You hurt her, and I’ll kill you.“

I found Y/N by the bleachers and let me tell you, she’s quite the paradox. She’s a straight A, no nonsense, intelligent beyond her years girl. With all these characteristics, you’d think she’d know better than to smoke cigarettes. Wrong! She’s a smoker. Jess can never not complain about the smell of cigarette smoke, it’s a miracle these two get along.

To my ‘hi’ she responded with what looked to be an eyeroll and an annoyed release of smoke through her nostrils. Even though I know I’m not welcome to be in her proximity, I still decide to sit down a little ways away from her, for personal space and all that. Definitely not cause I’m slightly afraid of her. No way.

We just sit in silence until she hits me with the aforementioned threat. I am caught off guard. All I can do is stare straight ahead of me like a deer in headlights. After maybe thirty seconds of absolute confusion I manage to turn my head to look at her. “What are you talking about?” The question is supposed to sound harsh but compared to the way she spit out that death threat it sounded more like a whimper.

“You are such an ignorant asshole.“ She shakes her head, throwing her cigarette on the bench below her. She stomps on it and walks away. I can’t help but stare at her until she’s out of sight. I feel like I’m watching something non-human. A phenomenon you can experience once in a lifetime - if you’re lucky. 

She’s the complete opposite of Jess: grounded, smart, rational. The only time I’ve seen her be so unpleasant is around me. I catch her interactions with the rest of the gang. From afar, she seems like the nicest, friendliest girl. And then she catches a glimpse of me and her mood changes. I don’t know what’s her problem with me but I know it most certainly isn’t something I’ve done to her. She’s been like that since the first moment we were introduced, so either Jess has talked a lot of shit about me or she just hates people named Michael. I may never know.

I had no idea what she meant at the time and only found out three weeks ago. Speaking of three weeks ago, the group once again headed for the Blackwood Pines, trying to hide their uneasiness with make excitement. I was pretty hyped when I heard we were going because that also meant our friend Josh was finally starting to get better. He hadn’t been in a good mindset since his sisters went missing and we were all really worried for him but weren’t allowed to show it because he always insisted he was fine.

He wasn’t. He was as messed up as ever and served as only the prologue to the nightmare of a night we had to live through.

But before all that could happen, the night started off well. Better than expected. The eeriness of the mountain combined with the bad memories we had of the place we still there, we could all feel the tension, but we did a good job masking it with jokes and whatnot. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to go and not only because of what happened the year prior.

“Wait, wait, wait. Y/N’s coming too?“ I ask, looking at Josh with wide eyes.

The guy is clearly confused by my overdramatic reaction to him counting down the names of the ones who had already RSVPd ‘Yes’. “Is that a problem or something?”

I sigh, hiding my face in my hands. It’s embarrassing to admit, really. “She doesn’t like me, and that puts it mildly. She hates me.”

He looks even more baffled than before, “Why? What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing, for fuck’s sake. Not a single thing. I haven’t even had a proper interaction with her.“ Talking about this matter exhausts me, mostly cause I can’t even express half the things I’m feeling.

There’s been a time or two I’ve caught her looking at me but her eyes weren’t filled with that distrust I’m used to. She looks away quickly when we make eye contact, as if she can’t put the mean mask on in time and she has to look away to do a system reset. I sometimes catch myself looking at her without realizing. I try to tell myself I do it for the purpose of solving her. 

‘Who are you kidding, Munroe?‘

                                                                  * * *

And here I am, climbing up the mountain to the Washington lodge. I’ve made it a goal to use this getaway to mend things with Y/N. It’s the only way for me to get back to normal. To get my mind back since she’s recently been living in my head rent-free. I’m bullshitting, not just recently. She’s taken over my brain since day one. I can’t place what’s going on with me, I can’t find a term to label it with and I most definitely can’t find a way to stop it. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I can’t stop it on my own, she’ll have to do it for me.

Another thing - I’ve never felt nervous or self-conscious around a girl all my life. Never. My friends joke that I’m a ladies’ man and I’d say that’s pretty true. So I have a tough time understanding how I turn into an awkward turtle that’s missing confidence when she’s around.

Once we all get settled in and there’s a fire going, giving the lodge a cozy atmosphere, it’s every man for themselves. Everyone picks a activity they want to occupy themselves with and the living room of the lodge empties out, leaving me there alone.

I scroll stare at the screen of my now useless phone. The thing has no reception and no way of keeping me busy, leaving my attention to wander to the voices that are getting more and more distant as my friends walk out of the room.

I can’t help but overhear Jess say to Y/N, “You haven’t even set your bag down yet and you’re going for a smoke? Jeez, Y/N.”

“You say as though you don’t know me.“ Y/N laughs, the sound of a door opening following after her voice.

It’s such a nice sound, her laugh. I’ve never heard it before. I’ve seen her smile and seen her chuckle at someone’s joke, but it was never actually a laugh. Seems she keeps those for special occasions. 

If she’s in the type of mood to laugh, she’s in the type of mood to be civil with me. Before I can talk myself out of the on-spot decision, I mentally slap myself and get off the couch, walking to the door to the side deck.

“You’ve got this, she’s just a person” 

“Who’s just a person?“ her voice cuts through the silence of the outdoors.

‘SHIT I SAID THAT OUT LOUD‘

I decide to carry this all the way, no shortcuts. No backing out. Somehow, now that she’s standing in front of me - a cigarette between her fingers, her shoulders tense from of the cold - I find it easier to get the words out. She’s just as human as everyone else. The cold causes her to shrivel up. She’s addicted to tobacco. She’s not some riddle I need to solve, just a person I need to talk to in order to understand.

“You.“ I reply, “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?“

She shakes her head, her shoulders trembling a bit, “It builds the immune system.”

“No, it makes you suffer.“ I shrug my jacket off, cautiously approaching her and wrapping it around her.

Surprisingly, she accepts it with a nod and a murmured ‘thanks’, holding onto it with the hand that’s not holding her cigarette. “Why were you reminding yourself that I’m just a person? Do I not look like one?” She scoffs, facing away from me to look at the snowy hills ahead.

“No, no, not that. You just make me nervous that’s all.“ 

She whirls around, giving me this look as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Really? Why’s that?“ she puts out her cigarette on the wooden railing, focusing all her attention on me.

My hand instinctively goes up to the back of my neck, feeling my face start to heat up. “Well, you’re not really fond of me. And I don’t know why, and....” I trail off, sighing in self-disappointment, “And I wanna know why.”

Her expression turns the complete opposite, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s not about something you have done. It’s about what you might’ve done.”

Despite feeling slightly relieved, I am no less confused than I was a minute ago. “And what is that?”

“Break my best friend’s heart.“ She looks a lot more serious now, “You really had no idea she was head over heels for you just a month ago. You were so oblivious and she was so whipped...“ frustration radiates off of her, “I just didn’t want her to get hurt.“ She closes her eyes, stabilizing herself before finishing her statement, “I didn’t want to hurt her.“

“Wait, what?“

The hurt that paints itself on her face is contagious. I feel it too and I don’t even know what’s causing it. “She always told me about you. Mike this and Mike that. She made you sound like the best guy in the world. And...I really wanted to be let down when I met you, but you were nothing but nice to me and to the other people in the group. But you were also such a jerk from time to time. You are just too...Fucking forget it.” 

In a blink of an eye she puts my jacket over the railing and runs inside the lodge.

“Y/N, wait!“

Needless to say, running after her was the best decision I’ve made. I didn’t get her to admit to anything, but at least we lied down the armor and agreed to give each other some time to get to know one another. Drop aside the assumptions and give a this acquaintanceship the chance to become a friendship. 

Sadly, all good things come to an end way sooner than we want. The rest of that dreadful night I witnessed her transform. When everyone was freaking out, she held them and comforted them. I saw the fear in her eyes but she never let it shine through in her actions. She was the one still holding it together even after she saw that disgusting creature. Her and I were the ones to turn that sanatorium upside down. We were with Josh in the mines. We were the ones to see the Wendigo first. We were by each other’s side the entire time. We had each other’s backs. 

I’ve never felt such a connection with someone. I was experiencing the most intimate understanding with a person in the worst moment of my life. It was bittersweet. The poison mixed with the cure.

Even when she knew her death was approaching, her only reaction was a single tear. A single crystal drop running down her cheek.

We can make a break. We can run right out of this hell hole and turn it to ash, all we need is for this fucking to focus its attention elsewhere. Thankfully Chris, Ash and Emily have made it out already and they’re safe. However, Sam, Y/N and I are trapped. The silent looks we exchange are laced with fear and panic. We have to calculate our next moves down to a millisecond and we don’t even know what those next moves should be.

Suddenly, a sharp pain starts spreading from my hand shoulder. My adrenaline is no longer doing a good job blocking out the pain of the fingers I had to sever. I slip up, letting out a hiss. The pain is just that unbearable.

That thing turn at the speed of light, letting out a screech and heading in my direction. My whole body is tense I couldn’t move if I wanted to but my arm is in such a horribly painful position, I think I’ll faint if I don’t readjust it.

“HEY!“ The voice comes from opposite me and my heart drops.

Sam’s next to me. It’s not her. It’s Y/N. 

The Wendigo loses interest in me as soon as it hears her yell turning and heading straight for her. It all starts sinking in. Now that it’s facing away, Sam and I can make it out. But she can’t. It’s over for her. There’s no way she’s leaving this lodge.

I catch her eyes from across the room. Her posture says a fighter, but her eyes scream ‘petrified’. She knows it too. She knows it’s game over. A single tear rolls down her cheek, shattering my heart.

That’s the last vulnerable moment, however. She turns her head, deciding to go out without showing a glint of fear to that piece of shit. I don’t have to look at Sam or tell her what to do. We’re both aware that we’re about to make it out, losing Y/N in the process.

It happens in a split second. Y/N spits at the Wendigo and then next thing I see is her laying on the ground in a pool of blood. 

The dash out of the lodge is a blur. The last thing I remember is sitting outside of the burning building, staring at the flames. The lodge wasn’t the only thing burning. Years of memories; history; wendigos; and my heart burnt in that lodge.

I see the group leave the graveyard. I struggle to move forward, my limbs heavy. I feel gravity is a lot stronger all of a sudden. 

I didn’t go to the final goodbye. I knew it wasn’t her. There was nothing left of her to bury. Sam told me they buried things that reminded people of her and objects she cherished. 

Well it’s time I give my goodbye.

I shrug my jacket off - the same jacket from that night - and put it around the gravestone like I put it over her shoulders. There’s a box of the cigarettes she smoked in the inner pocket.

“I hope you felt what I felt, Y/N. I hope I didn’t have to say it for you to notice it. I wish I knew...cause now it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” I can’t stop the tears, I’m too weak and I’ve been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve never believed in an afterlife. But I really hope there is one, just so we can meet again.” I scoff, shaking my head, “Who am I kidding, I’m probably going to hell.”

I believe that’s where I deserve to go, anyway. I’m the reason she died. And I will never let myself live that down. I will never forgive myself. A flame like no other burnt out so mine could keep burning.   I will make sure it haunts me till the day I leave this world behind.

[maree-ff]

Pressure

CAMILA

“Ma…” I dragged my mother's name through vain as she spit questions at me left and right. She’s been on my ass ever since I confided in her about my pregnancy. It’s going on week twenty of my second trimester and life is kicking my ass. Our septic system needs to be replaced and I’m having major construction done to the house so I’m apartment hunting. Jessica offered to let the girls and I stay with her but I can’t. Adding two more children and a third adult into their household is a bit much. Amelia needs one on one attention and I need my personal space. 

I spoke to Andre a few days ago, for thirty seconds and then he promised to call back but never did. Some of our calls get cut short and I get so irrationally sad that I end up crying myself to sleep. I’m losing my mind over Andre’s absence. 

“Camila, stop whining and listen to me. You can be so terca at times. Just like tu papa. Have you asked Divya if you can stay with her?” 

Grunting aloud so she can hear my frustration I dropped the house phone in my lap. Just then I heard my cell phone going off. 

“No, because I found a place this morning. Mira, me tengo que ir, I’ll call you later.” Lying through my teeth I briskly hung up and answered my incoming call. “Hello?” I answered. 

“You have one call from California State Prison. Do you accept the charges?” The machine spoke. 

“I accept.” I said clearly. I listened for that signal to speak, grinning from ear to ear to hear his voice. 

“I am so sorry, love. We had a quarantine and a lockdown at the same time which is why you haven’t heard from me.” He said in a rush. 

“I’m just happy to hear your voice. Are you alright?” I questioned. 

“Yeah baby I’m fine. How are you? Talk to me about everything.” His evenly paced breaths really solidified my peace of mind. 

“Cuánto tiempo tenemos?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of not having enough time.

“That bad?” He quieted down telling me he’s not in a joking manner. 

“Si. I’m having major work down to the house and I’m looking for a place to rent out for a while. On top of that, Zoe is sick again. This time I’m not sure what she caught and I’m scared to get sick and then pass it to the baby. But she’s been on one for five days now driving Kenny insane.” I explained. 

“I’d give up everything to be taking care of you ladies. I’m sorry you all are going through so much. You’ve been taking it easy I hope.” 

“Andre, sweetie I’m doing the best I can but it’s hard and I’m extremely worn out. These little girls give me a run for my money sometimes but I’ve learned to love that about them. Don’t get me wrong, they are so loving, caring, and kind-hearted but I’m tired.” I do the best I can to not whine to him about how difficult this situation is for me. Today, I can’t. I need to relieve some of this pressure. 

“I can only imagine how this must be affecting you.” The silence that’s brooding between us gives me anxiety. “Camila, I am so sorry for splitting up this family. I will completely understand if you need to hate me. I will understand whatever decision you make regarding this difficult situation I’ve placed our family in. This is my fault.” His apologetic and never wanting to hurt me attitude is why I can’t seem to be upset for too long. 

“You don’t need to apologize, go me. I just want you to know how I’m feeling. I don’t want you to ever question whether or not I can do this. I don’t want you to doubt my abilities as a mother either. There’s so much to adjust to. We miss you so much and I never want you to forget that.” Needing a deep breath in, I stood up and walked around the room. My sights fanned out over my belly, analyzing the growth of it. 

“How far along are you?” He asked. 

“Twenty weeks, second trimester. The baby has gotten so big. Zoe keeps addressing the baby as “he” because she’s confident that we have a boy coming into the family. I kinda feel like that too. Everyone else is thinking it’s a girl but I’m siding with Zoe all the way.” Talking about the baby gives me mixed feelings. There are times when I’m welcoming of the fact and other times I would trade the baby for Dre. 

We can create life together as long as we’d like to but I can’t replace him. I just can’t. 

“When are you coming back to see me?” I know for a fact this man has some sort of smile or smirk on his face. 

“Whenever you want us too.” Our tones of voice indicate that he and I are on the same page. 

He then says, “Tuesday, come visit on Tuesday. So...what’s the plan for today?” 

I buzzed around again getting ready for the moving truck to come. “Packing up the small stuff and bringing it to our new place. I’ll show you pictures don’t worry. You should talk to the girls before you have to go..” covering the mouthpiece I called out for Kenja and Zoe. 

Walking to the living room I found them sound asleep. Feet touching as usual. 

“Camila, what's wrong?” Andre panicked. 

Holding the phone up to my face again I smiled gently and said, “..nothing is wrong.  The girls are knocked out on the couch. They look so cute. Damn, I wish they were up right now.”

Andre and I talked for a wholesome twenty-five minutes. The downside to this call is that I didn’t get to say ‘I love you too’ before the call dropped. The act triggered me and sent me into a frenzy. Lucky for me, my mom, dad, Dani and Matt came over. Not only to help me with the girls but also to help with the move. 

Going to get the girls up and ready I attempted to get Zoe up first since she’s the lightest sleeper of us all. 

“Levántate ya sweet pea, we have to move today.” Kissing her hairline I turned her over as she began to wake up. 

“Mom, you talk to daddy? Yes?” She spit out without hesitation. 

“Yes I talked to him. He loves you and he can’t wait to see you and your sister. Did you have a good nap mi amor?” Wiping the drool off of her cheek I moved over to Kenja knowing this would be a tad more difficult. “Come on nena, levántate ya por favor.”

Kenja began to squirm and ultimately frowned at me once she had her eyes fully opened up. “Eres muy ruidoso, mom!” She exclaimed. 

“Cuidado, Evelyn. We don’t have time for this now, get up and get moving. Ahora.” Following behind and guiding them to their rooms, I got them ready together. By the time I finished with the girls the trucks had arrived. I traded places with my mom so she could get the girls into her car while I stand aside to supervise everything. 

——— ———

“Urgh my goodness, my body hurts so much. This poor baby has been going at my back relentlessly for hours.” Working through the knot in my lower back I ran my free hand across my belly. 

My mom stopped fanning herself to stare at me. 

 “Ay! Que estás mirando?” 

“You’re acknowledging my grandchild again. Some days I fear you have evil thoughts about this bundle of joy because Andre is not present. I see the way you look at yourself in the mirror and ay bendito it makes me so sad. But this is your baby and your body. I just don’t want you to forget, usted tiene ayuda Camila.” 

My mom prayed over the baby and I, and quietly exited the room. “Tienen hambre nenas?” She joyously sang. 

Rising from the bed I walked to the window, drawing the shades up. The view from this floor is breathtaking. I haven’t seen this type of view in a while. Watching the city below seems slowed down and so far away. 

“You’d love this place..” I whispered aloud. Gliding both palms over my belly I thought about our last visitation. I dreamt of the last night Andre romanced me and ultimately impregnated me. This baby is so much more special than I gave him or her credit for. My fears and anxiety have pushed me too far. Our child is a blessing through the turmoil. I need this baby as a symbol for hope and love. 

This bundle of joy and innocence deserves some attention and care. I could never imagine allowing Andre to discover the evil thoughts I’ve dreamt up like my mom mentioned. 

“I love you so much and I’m so sorry for not treating you better. This is a very difficult time for our familia pero it’s no excuse for my love..” looking down at my baby bump I smiled at the sight of my bare skin housing my unborn baby. “I’ll get myself together and take care of you the way you deserve. Con amor y respeto.” 

“Mommy, Papi is calling! Come on!” Kenja and Zoe yelled, blending their voices together. 

Hurrying out of the room I leveled out my tank top and threw my hands up. “Nenas, we can’t be as loud as we used to be at the house okay? This place is much smaller and we have neighbors close by.” I informed them. 

“Okay, we’re sorry. Talk to daddy.” Zoe shoved the phone to my ear where I could hear Andre speaking but to someone else. 

“Andre?” 

“I’m here baby. Listen I’m so sorry for the noise but these n diggas won’t leave me the fuck alone. How are you? How was the move?” He quizzed. 

“It went good. I’m more exhausted now than I was earlier but I can’t complain about much else. I love you papa but I want you to talk to the girls since you weren’t able to earlier.” I listened to his return of adoration and affection, handing my phone back to the girls. “Ma, you’re more than welcome to stay.” I said, meeting her in the kitchen. 

She smirks and giggles knowing damn well I need her to stay with us tonight. “You can count on that. What are we cooking?” 

Rubbing my belly again just to hear my mother laugh I laid out all of my plans for dinner and dessert. Our first night in this condo will be an adjustment as will the remainder of our time here. 

Mom and I watched the girls load up on two full portions of dinner, still crying for more. After our familial debate my mom volunteered to bathe the kids while I put the remainder of the food away and cleaned the kitchen. 

“Nana, can you stay and help mom? She won’t rest. And she’s super tired.” I heard Zoe say over the sound of Kenja laughing and splashing around in the tub. 

Quietly I set the pots and pans down to hone in on their little talk. Wiping my hands dry, I inched closer to the doorway of their bedroom. 

“Of course I will nena. I’m here to help mommy and you girls as long as I need to. That’s what I’m here for.” My mom said, smiling through her words I can tell. 

“I miss daddy..” Kenja settled down and finally spoke up. My heart split down the middle at her confession. Her speaking on her father’s absence sounds different then the other ‘i miss him’ confessions. 

“Yo sé mamita. I miss him también y I know mom does too. Your dad being gone is difficult on us all. And I’m sure that you girls have questions about why he’s gone and when he will be home..si?” The hope and serenity in my moms voice gives me hope that this tough time will get easier. Or at least we will all come to terms with Andre being away and make the best out of our unfortunate situation. 

“Yes.” The girls said together. “When will he come home? He has to care for mommy and baby brother before it’s too late!” Kenja exclaimed. 

“Ay, tranquila Evelyn. It’s late and that’s no way to speak to tu abuelita. I know and mom knows how much you girls miss your dad. We have to be patient and stay positive. I need you both to be supportive of your mom and tu papa. Don’t give mom a hard time ok? Take it easy on her. With your baby brother or sister still baking, your mom needs you both to take care of her. Come on, let’s get dressed for bed now.” 

Leaning back against the wall I looked around our temporary living quarters in amazement. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be stepping back into the shoes of being a solo parent. I have this urge to cry but I feel selfish for even wanting to. Deciding against being emotional I forced my way back to the dishes to finish up here for the night. 

Once I had my own bath taken and I got dressed for bed I stretched out. The echoes of silence in this room and the loneliness of laying in bed alone is still foreign. I hope I don’t get used to this but I’m afraid I may have to. Turning over to face away from the window I snuggled the body pillow covered by Andre’s favorite sweatshirt. 

I miss the tips of his fingers massaging my scalp. I miss his natural body heat to keep me warm throughout the night. I miss the combination of his soap and the girls knocking me into a blissful sleep. I close my eyes to reminisce on the sound of him speaking softly into my ear about his innermost thoughts. A slight grin bestowed upon my face pretending to feel his lips on my skin, melting me to the core. 

“I pray that you’re alright my love. And I pray that you miss me nearly as much as I miss you.” I muttered to myself. Clutching the pillow a bit tighter I tuned out the rainfall and the scary images in mind to dream of our reunion. 

[dutifully-secret-bouquets-stuff]

A little Kastle I want to work on....

       “I gotta walk out of here, Karen. And you can’t do it with me.”

        His words play over and over in my head, a constant reminder that he had chosen a other war. Frank had chosen another life that I could not be a part of. He didn’t want me. And no matter how hard I try to pretend that he did it to keep me safe, the ache in my chest is a reminder me that it was not the case.

        His pleading eyes haunt me, and every time I blink I can see his face. Bruises and cuts, scars from a fight with Russo. His eyes red rimmed and swollen, begging me to understand his choice, and of course I did. I knew what Frank had to do, and why he was doing it. He could not live without a fight, no matter how much I wanted it be different. No matter how many times I begged for an “after” his choice would always be the same. But even knowing this, I had searched in his warm eyes for a maybe, a fleeting hope, that maybe after this was over we could figure it out together. Searching for an admission, that,yes, he wanted an after that included me. But all I could see was pain, and a lingering longing. Longing for peace, redemption, for his family. Frank’s eyes were those of a broken man. A man with nothing to lose. Because really, what more could he lose? His whole family was gone, and his best friend had betrayed him.

        So I walked away, made sure that Frank knew that I would never stand in his way. With my heart breaking and a lump in my throat, I stepped aside. No matter how much it broke my heart, I would respect his choice, even if in the process, my whole life came tumbling down.

      Even as my heart cried out to him, my breath came a little quicker, and tears rimmed my eyes, I would do anything to help and protect the Punisher no matter how much I was hurting. So I left my shoes behind, and the hope that Frank would ever want a normal life.

      But even still, I remember the elevator shaft, the way his blodied body felt against my forhead. Like time stood still to grant us one moment of peace, one moment together. So the more his last words repeated in my head, the more I try to convince myself that the longing in his eyes was not for me. That my touch had no effect in him. That if we would have gotten more time...maybe…

        I have to convinve myself that Frank Castle feels nothing because I cannot keep tearing myself apart wishing for a future that will never be a possibility. I have to believe that Frank sees me only as Karen Page, paralegal, journalist, and nothing else. Maybe that way I can cope with the rejection. Maybe that way the sting will fade a little quicker. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

       I walk away from the chaos, I walk, and walk until the hospial alarms are only a faint echo in the distance. I turn to look at the police cars and ambulances that rush to the place I was escaping, and with one last glance, I mumble, “Goodbye, Frank.” Quickly turn and pray that Frank has made it out alive. That Madani’s plan worked, that the police uniform was enough. I hope, and wish that Frank, and the girl, Amy, are safe.

        Involuntarily I shiver, and I run a hand up and down my… Ow! I gasp as soon as my had made contact with my right elbow. The fire extinguisher, I remebered. And as I take a peek at my hand I see the blood, and internally curse. Shit. Crimson bubbles from the gash on my hand. Blood pools in my palm. I gingerly poke at the cut and wince. It is a deep wound, I might need stiches, I laugh. Oh the irony, I think, leaving a hospial, only to need it a few minutes later. If this incident did not completely sum up my life, I would have laughed. But life has a funny way of making me realize that my life is a mess. That everything I touch, not matter my intentions, always blows up in my face, sooner or later.

        I look at my hand covered in blood, and I follow the drops that are running down, and landing on the ground with a plop.

        I tilt my had, and all the accumulated liquid rushes to the floor. As the blood continues its decent, my feet become warm and sticky.

        “Mom, look! That lady has blood all over. Is she okay?!” a shrill voice calls out.

        “Kevin,” the mom, I guess, calls out. “Get away from her.”

         Kevin’s name snaps me out of my daze. I look around, and a crowd has gathered around to spectate the freak show that Karen Page has become.

         “Sorry,” my right hand goes up in an attemp of apology.

             “You are still bleeding, miss.”

            Yep, that I am. Still bleeding. So I do the first thing I can think of. I untuck my blouse, and press the silky fabric against my injured hand. I hiss at the contact, and within seconds my hem is coated with blood. Turning away from the crowd I frantically search for my car.

          Jesus Karen, get yourself together, I scold myself. Where did I park? Oh yes, I remember. So I run to my car, and as I get closer, I fumble inside my purse for the keys. I fish them out with my right had, and jump inside.

         Once inside, I search for a bandage, anything. And of course, I find nothing. So I do the only rational thing, I rip the bottom of my shirt. The silk comes undone in a second, and as best as I can, I wrap my pounding hand. Blood drowns the white.

         With my hand wrapped and delt with, I lean towards the passenger seat and find my running shoes. I dust my feet, and jam those babies in. At least I got a good use out of them.

        I feel much better. Karen Page, full of blood, and with no socks, how is that for a cosmic joke.

         As I laugh at how much the universe hates me, my phone rings.

          Frank I immediately think. And without looking at the caller ID, I answer. “Hello?”

          I expect to hear the gravel voice that is Frank, I am momentarily taken aback when the one who answers is Matt.

       “Karen, hi. Where are you?”

       “Hey Matt,” I sigh.

       “Karen, are you okay? Where are you?” Fear fills his voice.

       “Yeah, I’m fine,” I try to sound reassuring.

       His tone shifts slightly once he hears that I am okay. “Well you missed lunch with me and Foggy, and you were not answering your messages” - “or mine,” Foggy chimed. - “then we saw the news about the hospital and…”

        I cut him off, “Matt, I am fine, I just forgot, and my phone was on silent,” I lie, “but I will be there in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

        “You forgot, why? Is there someth….”

        “See you later,” I say before hanging up.

          I take a deep breath to calm down my serves, and without a second thought start the engine. I drive for what it seems to be hours, with Frank still in my head. The more distance between us the more my chest hurts. The more I wish he were here. I take a other left, and I am greeted with Nelson, Murdock, & Page painted in white letters on the glass door of our new offices.

         It is not big change, but it is an upgrade from our old offices. Looking at the new letters, I momntarily remember how I got here. I see myself with Matt and Foggy being payed witn chickens, and how then my investigating skills with Frank’s case, one way or another everything leads back to Frank, earned me a spot in The Bulletin, and how that we to shit when I failed Ben. And now here I am again, right back where I started.

         Without another thought about my shitty life, I climb out of my car, carefully as to not touch my hand, and head for the door. The smell of drying paint assaults my nostrils. God, we really need some airfreshners, I think.     

         “Hi Ms. Page, good to see … Ms. Page, are you okay?” Samantha, our part time office manager, questions.

          “Yeah, great. I’ll be in Matt’s office.”

           “But, Ms. Page…” Sam hesitates.

          I ignore the worry in her voice, and follow the smell of food. Once infront of Matt’s office, I lift my chin, and open the door. Inside are Matt and Foggy, enjoying Chinese take out. And man, it smells delicious.

         “Damn, that smells fantastic. I hope there’s some for me.” At the sound of my voice two heads turn to me. They take in my state, and Foggy’s eyes widen.

        “What?” I say.

The first to speak is Matt.

        “Karen, oh Karen.”

        “What Matt?” I counter.

         “Well for starters you smell of blood, and from what I didn’t hear, you aren’t wearing your heels. In fact you are wearing sneakers with no socks. Does that sound about right, Foggy?” Matt turns to Foggy, expecting a response.

         “How did you realize that I wasn’t wearing… Right, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” I chuckle.

        Foggy cannot say anything, he is frozen in place. A look of utter horror plastered on his face. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and his eyebrows up to his forhead. It was quite a sight, except for the fact that it was me he was looking at.

[squirenonny]

How you even get people interested your fics, asking for a friend thanks

Aw, man, isn’t that a question for the ages?

So I’m gonna preface this by saying that there’s no magic quick-fix to attract more readers (however much we all wish there were.) Writing for the big ships or posting a fic featuring a popular trope/AU when it’s popular is going to get you more readers than writing niche fics, but chasing trends isn’t going to make you happy and it might even hurt the quality of your work. When you post and whether there was some big fandom or IRL event that drew attention away from the newly published pages (or flooded them, burying your fic under ten pages of Klance week ficlets or whatever) can also play a big role.

Secondly, and I know you’re probably not going to like hearing this, try not to worry too much about numbers like hits/kudos/bookmarks/reviews. They don’t mean as much as you think, and they aren’t a reflection on your skill as a writer or the value of your story. The best thing to do is to find some other way to measure success–maybe it’s how many words you’ve written, maybe it’s whether you stick to a consistent update schedule. Maybe it’s reaching that scene you’ve been dying to write for forever. But make sure it’s something that’s in your control, because depending on the faceless masses for validation sucks, and you deserve better.

Okay, on to some advice for attracting readers.

1. Rework your summary. Confession time: I hate writing summaries. Hate it. I’m already not good with short form and trying to sum up a story in a hundred words or less is even worse. But it’s one of the most important skills for a writer to learn, since it’s your one shot to get people interested enough to click that link. If you’re stuck, here are some suggestions, with examples of how I’ve used them for my own stories.

Pick a (short!) excerpt from your piece. Maybe a brief exchange of dialogue, maybe the opening line, maybe something else. It should be something that doesn’t require context to understand and that makes people want to find out what happens next (or what led up to this moment.) Example:

This psychic—Lance the Lucid, according to the posters, and Keith wasn’t even going to comment on that—was a charlatan, plain and simple, and Keith kind of wanted to punch him. Sure, Lance knew how to put on a show, but Keith doubted there was anything more to the act than charm and dramatic flair.

Pidge sighed, catching Keith’s eyes. “At this point, they’re pretty much our only hope.”

If you’re writing an AU, especially a canon divergence AU, put the focus on what you’re changing. Example:

Shiro used to dream of Earth. That was before the Arena, before Haggar, before he joined the Galra army. At least he has an ally, a Galra officer named Keith. Together they plan to bring down Zarkon’s empire from the inside.

Matt never thought he’d see his family again. Then he crash-lands on Earth and Pidge rescues him from Garrison custody. But his homecoming is short-lived. Now the Holt siblings, along with Lance and Hunk, must find the Voltron lions and free the universe from Galra control.

Or: Galra!Keith, double agent!Shiro, red paladin!Matt, black paladin!Allura, full series AU.

If you’re writing something tropey, or a twist on a cliche, maybe highlight that. Example:

[following a short description of plot] Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)

Sometimes the simplest thing to do, especially for shorter stories, is to do a one-two punch in your summary. The set-up and the punchline. The scenario and the twist. The status quo and the catastrophe. Think “Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.” Or better yet, the next part of that intro–defining the Avatar and then hitting us with “and then he vanished for a hundred years whoops.” Whatever you do, keep it short. Example:

When Keith was seven years old, he spent a year in La Quinta with a boy named Lance, the best friend he ever had. Ten years later, Lance and Keith reunite at the Garrison–only Keith doesn’t remember who Lance is.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that shorter is (usually) better, but you want to include enough to hook readers’ attention. It’s hard, I know, but keep working at it and it’ll get easier. Seriously–write five completely different summaries for your fic, all under 100 words. Give yourself a 5 or 10 minute limit for each so you don’t agonize too much. Set them aside for a while, then come back and see what works. Or write a list of all the things you’re most excited about in a given piece, cut out any major spoilers, and try to work one or two of the others into your summary.

2. Be strategic about your tags. If you’re posting on AO3, use tags people are going to search. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, any tropes that feature prominently, any relationships (especially gen ones) that are a major focus. Be wary of overtagging–Shatt shippers, for example, know all too well how common it is to search for Shatt and turn up only Klance fics with a passing mention of Shiro and Matt going on a date. But plenty of people search for specific tags in trying to find new stories. Use that.

Similarly, if you post on Tumblr, use your tags efficiently. The first five tags on a post are the ones that the post will show up in (i.e. if you have a tag tracker or go to tumblr.com/tagged/____) Tumblr’s search looks at the first twenty tags, I believe. So use your first five tags for either the most popular or the most niche aspects of your fic. (i.e. tagging it “klance” will have a larger potential audience, though it’ll get buried pretty quickly; tagging “matt holt” or “shatt” gives you a much smaller potential audience, but one that’s more starved for content so will probably click your link at a higher rate.) Prioritize, and leave your organization tags/tag commentary for after.

3. Your first chapter should pack a punch. This one may be a little harder to put into practice if you have an existing fic you’re trying to drum up interest in, but it’s worth keeping in mind. If your summary and tags get people through the door, your first chapter (in a multichapter fic)/your first few paragraphs (for any fic) is where people decide whether or not this is worth reading. Goals to strive for:

Your first line, or at most your first paragraph, should hook reader’s interest. It should ask an implicit question–what’s happening? How did we get here?

(the equivalent of) Your first page (a couple hundred words, tops) should establish the situation and forward momentum. Diving straight into action with no context can be confusing, but lingering too long on exposition can make people tune out before they get to the good part. I’ve heard it said that the first 250 words should establish three things: character, context, and motive. Who are we focused on, what’s happening right now, and why does it matter? There are exceptions to every rule, of course, but make sure you know why you’re deviating if you decide to do so.

Your first chapter (assuming you have more than one) should leave people wanting more. Don’t leave them in the middle of the set-up, or they may not be motivated to continue. But don’t give them everything they need to see where this is going, or they won’t bother waiting to find out.

**Update: There’s now a follow-up post talking a little bit more about how to start a story, with examples!**

4. Persistence is key. Out of all the advice I can give you, this one’s going to be the hardest to follow, I’m sure. It can feel like you’re throwing words at a void and getting nothing back. Sometimes you have a real slow start. Sometimes you’re writing self-induldgent rarepare stuff, and it seems like you and two other people are the only ones who ship it–and those other two never comment.

The thing is, writing fic (especially as a newcomer or writing niche fic) is like playing Marco Polo at a death metal concert. Not only are you shouting into a sea of noise, but you’re also trying to find the relative handful of people who are going to answer. But here’s the thing: if you yell “Marco” once and get no response, then go home, you’ll never find those other people. If you keep yelling–maybe stay in one spot and yell over and over, maybe wander around calling out every so often–you’ll find someone, and then you’ll find someone else, and then maybe someone else will start shouting with you and find three more people. It starts slow, but it builds momentum.

In terms of fic, though, what does that mean? It means keep writing. Maybe keep hammering away at this one fic–excellent if it’s something you’re excited about, something you need to write no matter what. You keep putting it out there and you’ll start to beat back the wave of random chance that conspires to bury your fic because of weird posting times or an onslaught from a fandom event.

Maybe write a bunch of shorter fics, participate in bangs and exchanges and other events. You might hook readers with your Klance soulmate AU that you did for a secret santa, then tempt them into trying your other stuff (true story.) You might make friends by chatting in a big bang’s discord, and they can help you write more attention-grabbing summaries, or can signal boost on Tumblr. (Or just be that one person who stans your writing and keeps you motivated through low hit counts on AO3.) Or you might just hit a whole bunch of people’s rarepair/nich buttons and start building a following that way.

Or maybe it means going a little more off the rails. Try a different fandom. Write original fiction. Write an 80k Marauders-at-Hogwarts fic for yourself, edit it, and only then start posting a chapter a week so you can grow your reader base without the low number of comments chipping away at your motivation because joke’s on you, hit counter. I already have the next chapter done. And the one after that, and all of them, so they’re still coming even if no one’s reading. ha-ha! (Also a true story.)

Look, the point is, building a reader base is hard, and it’s frustrating, and a lot if it is based on luck and fandom trends, and you’re always going to want to get caught up in the numbers. Even once you have readers, you might get frustrated because the tropey shipfic with a shoddy plot that you BS’d your way through has ten times as much love as the lovingly crafted, well-plotted AU that you’ve poured literally thousands of hours into. Because writers are all starved for feedback, and with the exception of people lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to hit a fandom sweet spot and get shot straight into the realms of That One Fic Everyone Knows About–with the exception of those freak accidents of fate, the people who have sizable followings are almost always people who just plain love to write and do it regardless of what anyone else says or does.

So don’t write for the readers. Write for yourself first, and love what you write. Write stories that need to be told. Stories you can’t bear not to tell–because when you care that much about a story, it shows, and when the right people find your story, they’re going to love that you love it. Trust me. The right people are out there. You just have to keep shouting until you find them.