#almost two years after the first chapter was published we're back at it

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 1

Rowan is an activist with the Pet Liberation Front. He has spent the better part of a decade assisting the cause as a multimedia specialist, but never spends much time with the victims he is so intent on saving. After going undercover as a buyer to capture systemic abuse on camera, he finds a broken boy that steals his heart. Before Rowan knows it, he has a rescue pet at home. Both Rowan and his new houseguest must take steps to heal and adjust to their new normal.

Masterlist

// Chapter 2 (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, mention of noncon, noncon touch, sexual and nonsexual nudity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

“ID, please.”

Rowan handed over his driver’s license with a smile to the woman behind the counter. Marie, her name tag said, with a smaller typeface beneath that read she/her/hers. A faded cartoon sun sticker was wrapped halfway around the edge of the badge, almost completely covering the familiar WRU logo.

“Mr. Bailey,” she said with a soft smile in return, “welcome to today’s Opportunity Sale. Is this your first time attending one of WRU’s most special events?”

“No, I’ve been before.” 

It was hard to keep his voice level, especially at first. He’d been to dozens of these events around the country, and each was proving to be harder on his spirit than the last. The weight of the phone in his shirt pocket, already recording, weighed him down as much as his words.

Opportunity Sale. He loathed the euphemism. It was a liquidation, a fire sale, a last chance for the souls the institution had broken beyond repair. These so-called pets up for sale today were what WRU considered damaged goods, defective products. These are pets who don’t live up to WRU standards of excellence, they’d say, so we’re offering them at a discount, each sold as-is.

The “defects” varied. Some were marred by years of physical abuse, no longer able to perform the tasks they were trained for as their bodies failed. Others had simply lost their minds, slipped into catatonia, a permanent dissociation that rendered them a husk of the person they’d once been. Sometimes, albeit rarely, there were victims that WRU couldn’t fully break and bend to their whims, pets who were marked by attitude and defiance that no typical buyer would tolerate. Some were simply old, the incessant labor and abuse having weakened their bodies, unable to fulfill their purpose with the grace and ease that was expected.

They called it an opportunity, but It was nothing more than a last-ditch effort to recoup the costs that went into each “product.” Fully breaking a person’s mind took considerable time and money, and a broken pet sold for pennies on the dollar was still better for WRU’s books than a total loss. 

Those pets that weren’t sold before the close of business would be unceremoniously euthanized before the next sunrise. 

“If you’re familiar, then I’ll spare you the usual spiel about how this works,” Marie continued as she ran his ID through the desktop scanner. If she noticed the edge to his voice, she didn’t show it. “But I’ll give you a few reminders, just to refresh your memory. WRU salespersons will be stationed throughout the sales floor, wearing yellow shirts and WRU name tags just like mine. They’re available to answer any questions about merchandise or to help close any sales. We also ask that you refrain from live video or photographs for the privacy of our staff.”

“Got it.” Rowan felt the lie sticky on his tongue. The staff present today would be afforded no privacy, not if he could help it. Their atrocities, their complicity in this system, would soon be aired to the growing world of people who cared. Even this interaction at this front desk would be on tape, ready to share with the world in a matter of days. 

“Wonderful,” Marie said as she handed his ID back with a pamphlet tucked beneath it. “You can find the map of our sales floor in this brochure. Domestic will be in the front right through the double doors, Platonic towards the center, Romantics and all other classifications behind the black curtain on the left. I will say that we’re particularly low on Platonic inventory for this event, so if that’s what you’re after, I’d recommend coming back for next month’s Opportunity Sale. If you’re looking for anything specific, a WRU salesperson would be happy to assist.”

Rowan retrieved his ID and the map out of her hands, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t notice his fingers shaking. 

“Got it, thanks for your help.”

A final smile was all he afforded her before turning to the heavy double doors beyond the entryway. 

As he stepped closer to the threshold of purgatory, a familiar memory rose from the back of his mind. It always did at these places, the familiar sensation overwhelming him as his subconscious dragged him back nearly fifteen years.

---

“Hey, prof, are we there yet?”

Benny’s familiar voice cut sharp through the otherwise low murmur of conversation on the bus. 

“Benny, please,” Professor Engelhardt groaned, exasperation obvious in both her face and her voice. “I would appreciate it if all of our volunteers could act their age. You’ll know when we get there, I promise. In the meantime, try and exercise even a modicum of patience”

Rowan felt Grey squeeze his knee, and when he looked over the other young man gave him a toothy smile.

“For once, the loud-mouth has a point,” Grey said as he stifled a giggle.

“I have to agree,” Rowan agreed as he swallowed a laugh of his own. “It feels like we’ve been staring at nothing but cornfields for the last two hours. Where could we possibly be going this far out of the city?”

“Professor Engelhardt did say it was essential to our training as PLF volunteers, and I know that it’s a requirement for anyone who wants to do investigative work for the PLF. But as far as I know, there’s no WRU facilities out west of the city like this.”

“You’d be correct.”

Rowan looked up as his ears burned in embarrassment, the tired professor looking down at both him and Grey from the aisle. She continued, seemingly unaware of the blush that also tinged Grey’s cheeks. 

“This is a required journey for all volunteers who are looking to take the next step in their PLF activism. We’d rather you each know now whether this kind of environment will be too much for a sensitive stomach. And you’re also correct on a second count, Greyson. We’re not going to any WRU facility, at least not yet. You each have a considerable amount of training ahead of you before you go quite so far.”

By now, Professor Engelhardt’s voice had grabbed the attention of the other volunteers squeezed into the rattling and repurposed school bus. Faces of all ages, from the hopeful university students to the equally tired retirees, were rapt as their chaperone continued. Rowan’s stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as she spoke.

“We’re going to a cattle slaughterhouse. It’s time that you all experience for yourselves what it’s like when blood soaks the floor and all you can hear is screaming and heavy machinery. You need to see what happens when a collection of personal choices and systems meant to harm come together to determine whether something lives, or whether it dies. These aren’t humans, and they can’t speak to you to share their stories, but you’ll have plenty of time to see those horrors with your own eyes as you continue as volunteers. For now, let’s get you accustomed to keeping a straight face amidst the suffering and bloodshed. Given some of your aspirations, that shouldn't be much to ask.”

This time, Grey grabbed Rowan’s hand. Rowan gripped it back until his knuckles turned white.

--- 

That same smell followed Rowan now, the acrid stench he first experienced in the slaughterhouse on that humid August day. It was a lingering copper heavy in the air, a whisper of blood among festering wounds and fluids. WRU certainly tried to cover their tracks, make this place seem welcoming and inviting to the public, hide the litany of abuse that propped the system up. But to Rowan, and to anyone who knew better, there was no hiding the stench of ammonia and waste that clung to skin as much as sweat. These were sins that neither Pine Sol nor bleach could cover.

Rowan pushed through the double doors and entered the sales floor. It was showtime. 

The repurposed warehouse was milling with bodies. There were throngs of buyers meandering between yellow-clad WRU salespeople and black-clad Handlers, some chatting cheerfully while they contemplated buying a living being, others already busying their hands with prodding the “merchandise.” 

Opportunistic buyers hoping to get a pet at a discount came in a few standard flavors. There would be the middle-class families, unable to afford a brand-new pet, but still hoping to score a Domestic that was good enough to help around the house. There were the desperate perverts who were looking to try out a Romantic, see if flesh was better than silicone to get their kicks. And then there were the truly depraved, those hoping that they can find a legal way to torture - and likely murder - a living being without the threat incarceration hanging over their heads.

Rowan was posing as a long-curious buyer who might finally cave and get a Romantic all for himself. He wanted to be charismatic and sure of himself, but prove to be a bit more hesitant when it came to the “merchandise” itself. He was dressed smart, like he had money, but erred towards frugality. This would drum up the sales people, get them to incriminate WRU and its horrors under the guise of a sales pitch, the very thing that would generate sound bytes perfect for the pro liberation materials. 

He started with the Domestics, he always did. They were typically positioned at the entryway, intentionally so, as both the most in-demand and publicly palatable part of the system. Most families and prospective buyers wouldn’t wander past this point of the warehouse, not needing to look any further. 

A few of the victims were kept in cages, others on long leashes for handlers to parade around. It all depended on the state they were in, how well they’d be able to sell themselves as much as the salespeople did. 

“You look like a busy man,” a woman clad in WRU-issued yellow said with a smile in Rowan’s direction. “What do you say about never having to cook for yourself again? What about coming home to clean laundry every day without needing to think about it?” 

“That does sound tempting,” Rowan answered as he slowed to a halt. 

He looked at the man attached to the saleswoman’s lead, a tall and gangly thing, hunched shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. The defect was readily apparent: he was standing and leaning on a pair of forearm crutches, rather than the expected kneeling, because he was missing most of his left leg.

“This is one of our best deals of the day,” she continued her pitch with practiced ease, “I can guarantee you that. A flawless all-around Domestic, with great command responsiveness and attentiveness. It’s perfect for a busy working man or a family with a few kids. We’ve got it marked down today due to an obvious defect with its legs, which means it moves much slower than we’d expect from one of our model Domestics. Likewise, it can’t assume many of the expected kneeling positions, and struggles to move from position to position otherwise. This pet requires a patient owner, but the reward for that patience is a model that otherwise works as expected.”

This man would likely live another day. Rowan couldn’t see many other physical signs of damage beyond the amputation, and so long as this one ended up with someone who kept up with his medical equipment and any other treatments, he’d likely have many more years of service ahead of him. Maybe he’d even live long enough to see the whole damn system dismantled.

Still, it was Rowan’s job today to get incriminating sound bytes and video, so he pressed back. 

“I don’t like how tall it is,” he said, staring at the man who’d tower over him if he wasn’t slouched over his crutches. “I’d hate someone to think it has any kind of authority or power over me. It would be embarrassing in front of guests.”

“Rest assured, this model is fully obedient and appropriately subservient. After nearly a decade of service, there have been zero complaints of defiance or insubordination. Its last owners simply couldn’t bear the aesthetics of a Domestic like this. They’ve left glowing reviews of its service, and had it receive additional training in hand washing and minor repairs of delicate clothes. Really, this is a steal, and it’s more than discounted for the cost of a leg.”

“I understand,” Rowan said. “Still, I’m not a very tall man, and this one is just too much for me to handle. Your pitch is good, though, I’m sure you’ll have someone take it off your hands.”

“Of course, we want to make sure that each customer gets a pet that’s best suited for their needs, even if it is at an Opportunity Sale like this. If you’re interested in a shorter Domestic designation, we’ve got one over there with my colleague Dominic.” She pointed to the far end of the Domestic zone, to a tall man in yellow with a pet in a cage beside him. Rowan swallowed disgust once more.

“I’ll go check it out, thanks.”

And he did. He walked slowly, moving deliberately from side to side so his camera captured everything. This included the sight of a Platonic falling to their knees as an electric collar went off around their neck. The would-be purchaser gave a lecherous smile and ran her hand through the panting pet’s hair once the crackle of electricity faded. There would be no fairy tale ending for that unfortunate soul. 

“I saw my colleague Debbie point you over here,” the WRU employee said as Rowan came within earshot of the cage tied to the warehouse floor. “Do you mind if I give you the sales pitch while you look the merchandise over?”

“Well, the fact you’ve got this one in a crate while the others are out and about isn’t promising,” Rowan tried to lament as he gazed through the bars of the cage.  

“Ah, but that’s part of the story.” Already the salesman was working to weave a tale, and it was one Rowan would listen to with well-practiced feigned interest. The man gestured at the crate with an expression of false sorrow before he continued. 

“This one isn’t in a crate because it’s a danger to you. No, it’s a danger to itself, and only then because it’s so stricken by grief. You see, this pet is from our very first Domestic-Care line of products, the latest from WRU in home-care solutions. Its extended training made it perfect for older buyers looking to have a Domestic with a bit of extra training in handling low-complexity medical equipment like wheelchairs, walkers, shower chairs, stair lifts, and more. It was paired with a loving owner, carried out its tasks dutifully, and went years with a perfect record. All check-ins from WRU were met with glowing reviews. 

“Given the opportunity, it follows routines to a degree of meticulousness few of our pets have a predisposition for. Genuinely, this pet has always been one-of-a-kind. However, its owner passed away from circumstances entirely beyond this pet’s control. It went out of its mind with grief, and no matter how many new homes we’ve placed it in, and no matter the attempts we’ve made to re-train it, it escapes and runs right back to its old master’s home.” 

Even now, Rowan could see the pet searching for the door, their eyes following the flow of people in and out of the sales room. The human feelings were there. They always had been, and Rowan could all but feel the grief himself. That panicked searching for a way out, that desire to run into the arms to the person that this human felt they belonged to. A desperation for a door to an old life, a familiar voice, an expected touch. Grief as manifest through complete brainwashed devotion. 

Rowan knew better by now than to let his emotions seep through onto his face.  

“So, it’s a runaway risk. A certain runaway, in fact.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything with certainty,” the employee said with a nerve-tinged laugh. “In fact, the reason this particular model is on the floor today is with the hopes it connects with someone as deeply as it connected with its first owner. There’s no guarantee of that, we know, but it’s worth the shot. We’re hoping the right person will come along today and help them find peace. In the meantime, we’d recommend a home outfitted with windows that lock, and doors that are equipped with biometric verification that the pet can’t bypass.” 

The only peace this pet would find would be its death later this evening. No one in their right mind would take a runaway, not a casual purchaser, and not even a liberation group. The risk of a successful escape was just far too great.

The pet wouldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes even now, as it returned hunting, searching for the familiar face it was expecting. A face that would never come. There was no solace in knowing that soon, for the faithful at least, pet and owner would be reunited. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not equipped to handle a runaway,” Rowan said as he looked up from the crate with a sigh. “Honestly, I feel like these Domestics have just sidetracked me. I was here to look at the Romantics, really.” 

“Then you’ll want to head right behind that curtain over there,” the man said with a gesture to the tall velvet curtains that cordoned off nearly a third of the warehouse. “There are plenty of additional WRU employees there to help you find a model that’s suitable to your needs.” 

With a nod, Rowan turned to walk towards the curtains. He lingered for a moment, just long enough to stick his fingers through the bars of the cage at his side, a chance to let the pet seek out comfort if they wanted. No touch came, and Rowan walked away with a familiar pang in his heart. He knew by now that he was never going to save them all, not yet, but it didn’t ease the pain. 

Another flash of his ID was all it took to get him through the foreboding curtains. WRU absolutely didn’t want families and reporters seeing this side of the system, after all. The Romantics division might have been the second best-selling of all the WRU models, but it was also the most secretive. There was good reason for that. 

As soon as Rowan passed the threshold he was hit with the thick aroma of sex and fear. There was a more sinister atmosphere in the rooms that existed behind the curtain, air heavy with that adrenaline-twinged sweat of broken pets who were fighting for their lives, some being used live for demonstrations on the sales floor. Even after all this time, Rowan’s stomach wasn’t quite accustomed to it. 

He kept his chest forward and shoulders out. That was the best way for his camera to capture the sights and the sounds, because after all, that was the reason he was here. He wasn’t here to save these victims, as much as he wished that was the case. He was here in the hopes that their suffering would give those that came after them a fighting chance, that airing these atrocities to the world would bring the system to its knees one day.

The first sight that drew his attention was a man cinched to a table, an unusual arrangement for even the most “defective” Romantics. There were already two potential buyers there, hands on the naked pet, touching his body and fondling his genitals. The pet was unflinching, his chest rising and falling steadily, lips giving out soft sighs and moans in a practiced rhythm. 

“I didn’t expect this one to be so popular,” the WRU employee said with feigned exclamation as Rowan meandered over. “But young man, you certainly have good taste. This model is one many once would have believed was unsalable, but here, at the Opportunity Sale, it’s being given a second chance. Not only that, but it’s proving to be the center of attention.” 

‘What’s wrong with it?” Rowan asked bluntly, still surveying the scene. Something had to be wrong, and even his own seasoned eyes hadn’t figured it out yet. The pet’s gaze was unfocused, its body still, just as a Romantic was trained to be unless given the command to engage. 

“Another tragedy, I’m afraid.” The salesperson didn’t sound saddened at all. “There was an incident during its training that left it paralyzed from the mid-back down. This means that, as a Romantic, its functions are limited. It can’t sustain an erection anymore, and it can’t engage in certain types of play. However, it's still just as tight as our standard buyers would expect, and its mouth is an absolute dream. You’d be responsible for the additional care costs of a paralyzed pet, but for someone with limited sexual needs of their own, this model will more than fulfill.” 

At least once each Opportunity Sale, Rowan swore to himself that this was finally the time he was going to be sick on the job. He’d see something so horrific that there was no answer except to choke up bile and spit there on the sales floor. He’d likely out himself as a PLF agent in that same breath - after all, who else would be so concerned about the well being of pets? - but it almost didn’t matter. These horrors were too much to witness, much less bear as the victim was bearing them now. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. At least that sales pitch would make a great sound byte for the pet liberation materials. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’d definitely want one that’s younger and, uh, more mobile.”

“Understandable,” the salesperson said with a nod. “There are plenty of other options here today that might suit your fancy. Feel free to keep browsing, and as always, you’re welcome to ask a WRU employee for any assistance or further direction.”

“Thanks.”

And Rowan did keep browsing. He browsed carefully, angling his chest to capture all of the angles he could, kneeling down to “inspect” pets that were sprawled naked on the floor. The path he took around the Romantics section was methodical. The disabled pets, the catatonic pets, the ones with abuse written on their skin, Rowan tried to capture them all. When he could he gave their hands what he hoped was a squeeze of comfort - possibly the last they’d receive in their too-short lives. 

He was nearly to the back corner, at which point he’d loop around to the front and make a graceful exit, when he saw another Romantic in a crate.

Unlike all the others, this one made Rowan stop in his tracks.

The man in the crate was young, possibly ten or so years younger than Rowan himself. He had a thick hair of black curls and he was looking through the bars of the crate with searching, hopeful eyes. It was almost like he was waiting for something, someone, to notice him. Most of the pets here were defeated, on their last chance at redemption, already chewed up and spit out. Their spirits had been dampened. Somehow, some way, this one was still fighting. 

It was like a thread in his chest pulled Rowan up to the crate. His feet were moving without him commanding them, unlike anything he’d experienced at a sale like this before. He was caught up in something special, something different, about this victim. 

“You have a good eye,” the saleswoman said with a warm smile. “This is possibly one of the best deals we have on the floor today, so long as you’re willing to be a little patient.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Rowan asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy kneeling almost eagerly behind the bars. 

“Let me start off by saying that this pet is in great physical condition. Not only is it one of the youngest we have here today, it has passed almost all of our physical examinations with flying colors. Its strength, speed, and tactile abilities are within or exceeding our typical parameters. Not only that, but this particular pet has something that is typically reserved for only our most exclusive customers: it has dual training, and is classified as both a Romantic and a Domestic.” 

“That’s not something you typically see at an Opportunity Sale, I suppose,” Rowan pretended to muse. He already knew that what she had said was the truth. Dual-classification pets took many more months of training than single-classification, and it often showed in both the abuses and expenses associated with keeping one. A Dual-classification pet could easily cost as much as a down payment on a house. 

“Exactly why this is such a great opportunity,” the saleswoman beamed. “As a Domestic, it even has specialty training in French cuisine. You’ll be eating like royalty every night if you so please. As a Romantic, its skills and abilities are considered quite standard, with experience in training for light bondage.” 

“So, why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong with it?” 

A sigh. Dramatic, almost despairing. It was an act of practiced sympathy that soured Rowan’s stomach even further. 

“Unfortunately, this one seems incredibly selective with the orders it follows, if it follows them at all. No amount of effort from our most experienced WRU handlers have been able to adequately refurbish it. As I said, its behaviors and capabilities are within or exceeding WRU standards, and it certainly seems eager to please its keepers, but I can make no promises on its compliance with specific commands.”

The boy looked up at Rowan for just a moment before turning his gaze back down. From that brief glance, Rowan wouldn’t have put him a day over twenty-five. But God, he just looked so lost. He didn’t seem lost in the way that many others at the sale today did, that catatonic, too-far-gone glaze over their eyes, the will to live entirely sapped out of them. Instead, it looked like this boy was hunting for something, someone who would notice him, give him attention in return.

Rowan couldn’t help himself. He saw it as a sign that this victim wanted to live, wanted to make it off this floor alive, wanted to connect with any human being that came by and could give him a chance. It was a spark, and against his better judgment, Rowan hoped that he could one day stoke it into a fire. 

“How much?” 

The words left his mouth before he was able to swallow them down. His heart began to race almost instantly: this wasn’t the plan, it was never the plan. He was supposed to get in, take some footage, and get out. He wasn’t trained for anything else. He wasn’t prepared to engage in rescue activities, especially not like this. 

Yet Rowan had never known anything with a certainty such as this: he could not leave here without saving this boy. 

“Wow, you’re won over already?” The saleswoman’s voice was light, but she was already pulling out a clipboard with a stack of paperwork on it. “I haven’t even given you all of its physical details yet. You can’t see quite how tall it is in the crate, can you? Here, let me get you its height, weight, vaccine record, some of its other statistics-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan managed, almost breathless from the sudden influx of stress. “I want this one. How much?” 

“Because it’s lacking in one of the most essential features of a WRU product, the ability to listen to owner commands, it’s offered at a significant discount. This one is seven thousand and five hundred dollars before tax, and the seven percent state and local sales tax will be applied at checkout. We also have optional add-ons, like the pet care package that insures all well-being visits, vaccines, and dental care at any WRU-sponsored pet clinics, as well as training class vouchers to impart additional skills.” 

Rowan had already retrieved his wallet from his pocket, fingers trembling as he pulled out his ID and method of payment. That was a lot of money, yes, but who was he to put a price on a life? His car could hang on another few years, probably. Maybe. It was just money, he’d be fine. 

“I’ll take the base package. I don’t need anything else.” 

The rest of the sales floor became distant, dull, and Rowan took the pen into his hand as the saleswoman shoved a pile of paperwork in his direction. Tomorrow morning, she said, this boy would be delivered to his front door. Initial on this line, sign here, what’s today’s date? It was a blur and Rowan was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing. 

He couldn’t hear her over the thundering of blood in his ears, and the rush of adrenaline made it hard to steady the pen in his hand. He penned his signature on the final line and the saleswoman congratulated him with words he could hardly make out. It didn’t feel real, like he was walking through a dream. 

Rowan was going to be a pet owner. 

---

The din of conversation in the massive room almost overcame the incessant ringing in the pet’s ears. Not much was capable of drowning it out these days, not since it had become so loud. It never stopped, anymore. 

It couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged all around it, those busy groups of people moving back and forth, their legs passing its crate by without stopping. It had a hard time hearing words, no matter how hard it tried, and whether it was somewhere busy like this or otherwise. It wanted to be good, it wanted to listen, it wanted to make its master and its handlers pleased. But the pet couldn’t do that anymore, and deep in its gut, it knew that’s why it was here today. It was here with all the other pets that were broken, that were missing things, that cried when they were brought into the room this morning. Those pets were bad, and the handlers had no trouble saying as much.

The pet wanted to believe it wasn’t like those broken pets. That it would go back to Master, or have a new master, and be able to please them like a good pet should. But for that to happen it had to be on its best behavior. Handler Green had said so, that the pet would be thrown out if it didn’t try its very best to listen and be good. Handler Green had shouted this over and over, as though the pet was being disobedient just by existing, rather than unable to hear him. It didn’t want to be disobedient, and it wished that the handlers didn’t have to repeat themselves so much. It wished it could hear right, like the other pets were able to.

A pair of legs stopped beside the crate, toes pointed towards the yellow-shirt woman that wasn’t a handler, but the pet was told to behave for nonetheless. The pet looked up, eager to see who might be interested, perhaps someone who wanted it. The man’s eyes met the pet’s, and it quickly averted its gaze back towards the ground, cheeks burning. It was a novice mistake to make eye contact with a person like that. If it didn’t get itself under control, remember its training and very best manners, the pet knew that it was destined to fail. 

Maybe it was a broken pet after all. It certainly had the bruises and scarring from seemingly endless corrections by handlers, anyway. 

Those legs finally walked away and a blanket was thrown over the top of the pet’s crate. It yelped in spite of itself as the darkness descended. Did this mean that it had failed? Was that single glance enough to seal its fate, destined it to never have another Master to serve, no second chance to prove itself? Was this the end - alone, in the dark, unable to hear anything but the shrill ringing that had become its only companion? 

I want to be good, it thought to itself, tears splashing down from its watering eyes to its knees. Its fists balled up, hands shaking from the sadness and the longing. I just want to be good.

---

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[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 11.

Summary: It's good to finally getting back home to Saltburn. There's just a few things to work out, such as where Oliver's staying, and why.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: implications of child neglect

A/N: 3989 words. I think about Jacob Elordi saying that Felix would have Artic Monkeys on his personal playlist, about once a day. um okay so not only is this uneditd, but i definitely got very drunk halfway through it, so that's.... that. (im drunk as i publish this) BUT WE'RE AT SALTBURN AND OLLIE GETS HERE TOMORROW!! (which means the next chapter, which dw will be tomorrow irl) ((is this anything?? im worried its ooc please feedback??))

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no reverence in you anymore for the castle in the countryside that is Saltburn.

Once it had towered before you, trembling, a child alone in every way that mattered until the doors opened before you. Saltburn was a haven away from the bitter hypocrisy of both expectations and apathy, though it took you quite some time to learn as much. At first, there was reverence; Saltburn was the place where every script you'd learned to smile through, every societal expectation you'd been trained to uphold, would be put to the test.

And if you couldn't keep up, if you messed up in this holy house in the face of their kind smiles, you were sure their gazes would turn blank with inevitable disappointment.

But that was years ago.

And mistakes made you interesting, your quirks made them laugh, and Saltburn became less holy each Summer as you found it to be far more human.

It's what occupies your mind for the entire trip back to Saltburn, with you and Felix sharing an earbud each from his iPod, and Farleigh reading - pointedly not not ignoring Felix after he'd found out the news.

You wonder what Oliver will see in the house; the sum of it's parts, or each room and inch of the grounds as their own storage space for memories worth so much more.

Felix hums along under his breath like nothing in the world could ever worry him. Farleigh licks the tip of his finger, glancing with ire at his cousin for just a moment before turning the page of his book. Play. You squint at the cover; Richard the Third. Shakespeare. Farleigh holds the play up further to hide the rest of his face from you both.

You'll get to the station before midday, and a town car will be waiting for you all. Most of your things from Oxford are on their way to a storage facility in the city for the Summer, but you've still got a few precious things you're bringing back to the estate in a suitcase a the front of the carriage, and a bag overhead.

Felix has been trying to look nonchalant and look out the window for a good part of the trip now, but he keeps glancing at you with a strange look.

"Does this change us?"

This time, you make sure to catch his gaze before you reach for the iPod. Most of the ride has been on shuffle, quiet otherwise between you two, if not for his humming, or yours. Flipping through the few albums he had saved, you clicked through to the one you had been looking for. The sunshine is beating down on him just outside the window, almost directly overhead, shining on him and everyone in behind him in the window seats, painting them in sharp relief if they had their curtains open.

You pressed play on You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight at Me by the Artic Monkeys.

Felix, who knows and loves the song, can't look at you. Actually, properly can't look at you, hiding his embarrassed smile behind his hand as he forced himself to look out the window.

And you hum along, grinning, leaning just past him to also focus your gaze out the window.

"Stop that," he mumbles under his breath from behind his hand, clearly still smiling. All you do is continue to hum along as the band thrashes along in your heads. After a moment, you slide the iPod towards him, as if taunting him, daring him to change the song himself.

"- they're not half as bad as me," you sing under your breath. Felix is turning pink around the ears, but flips the iPod over onto it's face, letting the rest of the song play out, "say anything and I'll agree -" your smile grows wider and you sit back, but continue to hum.

If Farleigh's judging either of you, he doesn't lower his book enough to indicate as much.

The town car ride back to the estate was far more eventful, as the three of you began to properly discuss Oliver's impending arrival. Apparently he hadn't thought much about packing up his room at Oxford, what little there apparently was to pack up, so he was taking the extra day students were allotted to gather himself together for the Summer. That meant one night at Saltburn before he'd be there.

"I actually, genuine can't believe you sometimes," Farleigh had started two separate tirades in the past twelve hours exactly like this, and both about Oliver. It was no secret what this third was going to be about, "you honestly couldn't give me six weeks of peace? Six weeks?"

"You'll have plenty of peace, mate," Felix had insisted, eyes wide and pleading with his irate cousin, "and honestly, I think you'll really start to warm up to him."

"I appreciate that your optimism springs fucking eternal, Felix, but -"

"No, seriously, give him a chance outside of all the academics and what everyone else thinks," Felix was beginning to plead for a moment, all big brown eyes and imploring tone of voice. Farleigh, however, was not as well swayed as the rest of the world would be by his theatrics.

"I'm not going to play nice with your little -"

"Hey, he might be into that," you cut Farleigh off before he could say something too incendiary, but Felix still cast his frown between you both.

"Not helping, Y/N," he admonished, turning back on Farleigh who was suddenly overcome with mild revulsion at your implications. When Felix wasn't looking, you wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively, teasingly adding to the bit. He fake-gagged, much to Felix's disappointment.

It wasn't a long journey, however, and soon enough the three of you were pulling into Saltburn, and there was something amusing about the collective sigh of relief you all shared once the door opened.

"Feels like ages since we've been back," Felix stretches, leaving his bags for the chauffer and doormen, as did you. Farleigh made a start towards the trunk of the car before the chauffer climbed out, giving him a confused look and he thought better of it.

"Christmas, right?" Farleigh stuck his hands into his pockets, sauntering up the steps beside you all, gazing up at the large, blue doors.

"Duncan taking his time," Felix muttered under his breath after a moment, to which you grinned.

"Probably wants to keep them closed on us as long as possible," though just as you say that, as Farleigh and Felix snicker, the doors creak open, and there, gaunt as you've ever seen him, Duncan somehow manages to loom impressively large, even as you've grown into an adult.

"Master Felix," he nods to each of you with the same stern civility he's always carried, "Master Farleigh, Captain Y/N." You nod in turn, voice turning cordial as you greet him warmly, despite your two companions barging through ahead of you.

"Duncan, always lovely to see you," you incline your head towards him the way you always have, and for a brief moment he allows himself a faint, but genuine smile.

"God, you're so fucking weird sometimes!" Farleigh calls over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes, but Duncan is stone-walling again, so you slip past him to catch up. In time to hear Farleigh's voice lower and ask, "have you told your mother yet?" Felix makes a face.

"I texted her before we got on the train," it sounds uncomfortable, "she sent me an incomprehensibly long text back which I only got when we had service again. I think she's fine with it."

Farleigh hangs his head, his last defence against Oliver's impending arrival foiled. After a beat, he forced a smile, sliding up to get in step beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Oh, we're gonna be best friends this summer," he tells you, as if you have no say in it, "you, me, and my fucking weed guy -"

"Say it fucking louder why don't you," Felix rolled his eyes, but you simply shook your head at the altercation, wrapping your arm around Farleigh's middle and giving him a squeeze.

"You're impossible, Farleigh," you told him, "and so lucky I love you."

Farleigh quietly cheers for what small triumph he had won, before both you and him look to Felix's vaguely sceptical expression, taking in the both of you.

"It's a fair trade," Farleigh told him easily, "you get your new best friend Oliver -" still yet to say the name without disdain, you note, "- I get Y/N."

"I did also promise Venetia I'd spend some time with her," you chime in, but Farleigh can't help himself but snort.

"You sure she won't pick a fancy for Oliver too?" You can hear his lip curl, but Felix pulls ahead where he's been casually leading you all through the house to his room. You can't see his expression.

"Fuck off, Farleigh -" you start, coldly pulling away from him, but Felix's tone is light, almost forcibly casual as he cuts you off.

"Ollie's lovely but I don't think he's much of her type."

"Everyone's Venetia's type," Farleigh spits, unable to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth. The implication hangs in the air for a long few seconds before Farleigh catches himself. The unneeded reminder. The real reason for the sudden coldness. Felix turns, smiling bright with nothing behind his eyes as he cheerfully tells Farleigh -

"You know where your room is, right?" And says he's going to rest before hunting down the rest of the family amongst the estate. Farleigh meekly nods, and departs from you both. Both you and Felix follow him with your eyes; Felix's smile doesn't drop before the door closes behind him, and it's the two of you in the blue room, alone.

And you know he's thinking about Eddie.

You wish Farleigh knew how to keep his mouth closed, how to stop pressing buttons when he always knew what they did.

"Where's Ollie going to be staying?"

Felix's eyes flash to you, and you wonder if it were the right or wrong question. Is there a question in this moment that isn't loaded? Is there a question you could ask that wouldn't make him think of Eddie right now?

Eddie had stayed in Felix's room. In Felix's bed. At least he was supposed to. But Oliver wasn't Eddie, so he needed his own space.

Oliver was different to Eddie, you reminded yourself, and hoped that Felix was thinking it too. That was good. That was good.

"Dunno," Felix finally admitted with a sigh, draping himself over the cream sofa, looking up at the ornate ceiling. You sat on the stool for the broken piano, lifted the lid and idly played a few notes, listening to the little hammers in the instrument tap uselessly against broken strings.

"Vennie wouldn't do that again, would she?" Felix muttered so quietly you almost miss it. He doesn't call his sister Vennie often; you know he's dwelling, he's hurting the way he tries to pretend like he doesn't.

"Farleigh's talking shit because it's his job at this point," you tell Felix flatly, and he angles his head towards you, even if it looks like it hurts, so you see him contemplating, "but Ollie isn't Eddie."

Something lights up in the back of your mind as you read faint disappointment on Felix's face as he processes your words. Nodding, he sighs again, looking up at the ceiling.

"Last night was fucking beautiful," Felix's tone turns wistful; he hasn't told you properly about what happened between him and Oliver, but clearly it went well, "I hope Ollie likes it here." Then, closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before offering, "I've been meaning to thank you, actually," he admits. You shift from the piano stool to sit on the arm of the sofa he was laying across, "for giving me space to spend those moments with Ollie last night."

His face scrunches up a little, then, as if sensing you by his head, he cracks an eye open. Slowly, almost embarrassed, he starts to smile.

"He's like you, you know?" He says gently, before he really considers what he means, and his face falls; you watch, you wait patiently, "can't go home ever again," apology in his eyes, "that's what he said to me."

There's that love, that desire to do good, to be good, that Felix has always craved. He's in his own head, all kinds of thoughtful and melancholy that he often isn't around the rest of the world. Felix shuffles himself over on the plush, wide sofa, making himself as small as possible, and you know it's an invitation. One that you take. It's awkward, but he holds you tightly so you won't fall off.

You wonder if he even realises that you're there, that you're in his arms and listening to the way his thoughts spill out of him from a moment of connection he craves but doesn't often get. If you're so much of his mental wallpaper that holding you like this, the way you listen, the way you are so gentle in these moments, if you're more like a simple diary, an easy, comfortable way to get these thoughts out of his head without the fear of his secrets being spilled upon someone who might use them against him.

"I don't think I'll ever understand not being able to come home," Felix admits softly, "I can't even wrap my head around how Ollie became the man he is with parents like that; and after all he's gone through, for this to be straw, the thing that means he'd rather live in a world alone than be around the people - person - who was mean to love and protect him and yet failed him over, and over, and over again? He's so bloody strong for how long he's gone through it all."

Swallowing hard, you're surprised by the way your eyes are clouding over. Trying not to break the moment, you press your face against his chest; Felix doesn't seem to notice, still trapped in his own thoughts, but he instinctively holds you a little tighter.

"'Home' doesn't mean the same for you as it does for me," Felix whispers softly, almost to himself, and it hits you square in the chest. The tears start to come, and you can feel them dampening his shirt, "that's what he'd said to me," oh, Felix hadn't even realised you were crying.

It takes another half a minute before he even seems to realise something is wrong, but you assured him you were fine, that you were just very glad that Oliver would be staying here instead for the Summer. He'd almost connected the dots at the start of the conversation, but now he couldn't seem to see them.

Still, you knew Felix, and you weren't sure if his heart could handle making you cry twice in two days. So you lie, and he lets it go.

Felix is sitting up and stretching, his mood having improved for having voiced his thoughts it seems, and you're drying your eyes when the door to the Blue Room opens.

"Darlings, Duncan just let me know you'd arrived and were on your way to freshen up before the afternoon," Elspeth was as bright and flighty as always, looking between you both, "so glad I caught you both." Felix is the first on his feet, warmly greeting his mother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which she returned in kind. Seeing your red-rimmed eyes, she's immediately concerned, but you brush it off quickly, telling her that you and Felix were simply discussing Oliver's situation and that you were incredibly excited to have him joining you all. She, of course, lit up at that.

"It will be such a treat, if I'm to believe my darling son," and of course she is to believe darling Felix, everyone at Saltburn always did. His admiration was worth it's weight in gold to the people who loved him, Elspeth especially. She latches onto the elbow he doesn't offer and you're left to catch up to them as they make their way through the familiar rooms to Felix's, her voice filling the space all the while.

"You must tell me all about dear Oliver," Elspeth insists; she, like her son, was made for Saltburn. She catches the light, beautiful and timeless and made to live amongst its timeless walls. Your face still feels hot; you don't know why but you feel out of place - home doesn't mean the same thing for you as it does for me - Felix pet's his mother's hand on his arm and assures him that she'll love Oliver. He's thoughtful. He's gentle. He's beautiful. Her eyes shine; even his mother is not immune to his light.

"Now, I hope you don't mind," Elspeth begins when the three of you get to the long gallery before Felix's room, "but it was rather last minute, so it's been something of a rush to get everything ready -"

"Get what ready?" Felix asks, and you watch them like a play, like a film, like a third party without any kind of say.

"I thought it would be best if Oliver stayed in the room attached to yours," Elspeth said, and it takes a moment, but you feel your stomach drop. This was worse than last Summer; at least then you had your own room.

"Y/N's room?" There's some victory to be taken in the way Felix seems ready to fight for you in this matter.

"Oliver is a guest, dear," Elspeth didn't even look at you in this moment, "we didn't want to have him set up, all alone, on the other side of the house." She smiles, and gives a fond, if condescending look over her shoulder to you, "you'll be alright, won't you sweetheart? It's just a bedroom, it's not a big deal." You try and smile, and nod, and be placating -

"They can stay with me," Felix insisted, "sleep over, like when we were kids." For a moment, he looks to you. The nod he gives is solid, is reassuring; it eases your heart.

"I don't know if that'd be appropriate."

Elspeth knows. Everyone fucking knows. No-one will say it, but it effects every damn thing they do. How they treat you. You know this, but no-one talks about it out loud.

Saltburn thrives on the unspoken.

"Why not?" Felix forces his mother's hand, "Y/N's my best mate, has been for years, we share a bed all the time." And Elspeth is too polite to do anything but concede, and lets you both know with a faint, awkward smile that your things will be moved to Felix's room before the day is out.

"And Y/N, darling," she does finally, properly acknowledge you, taking both your hands in hers, kissing you on both cheeks, "it's wonderful to see you, of course, so glad to have you home."

Home.

You smile warmly at her. After a beat, however, she casts a faint frown to the window.

"And I feel I'd be remis not to tell you that Venetia is refusing to get out of the pool until you go down and join her."

"Oh," there's an amused kind of warmth that blooms in your chest at that, at being sought after and missed; Felix rolls his eyes but it's fond, "how long has she been there?"

"Not long before you arrived," Elspeth gives a genuine, warm smile, clearly either wilfully or genuinely ignorant about the nature of your relationship with her daughter, "please just take it as a sign that we have all missed you dearly."

She leaves you both to it, reminding you of when supper was to be held, as if the time ever changed, and you and Felix quietly made your way into his room. Your room.

You watch from the doorway as your best friend breathes in familiarity of it all. His childhood bedroom, always left immaculate and untouched, a museum to him whenever he was away from the house. A place of so many of your firsts, yet never a place you'd really called your own. Felix falls onto the bed, face-first, swearing muffled by his expensive duvet.

"Every bloody person's determined to get on my nerves today," Felix sighed, flipping himself over, legs hanging off the end of the bed. "Not you, you don't count," he adds idly, flicking his wrist in your general direction, but still managing to warm your heart, "I'm glad Ollie's staying close by, but can you believe she thought you'd stay anywhere but here?" He sounded genuinely miffed, finally turning to look at you. When he sees the abashed way you're smiling at him, his frustration drops, "what?" He can't help but match your softness in this moment, and you shake your head, trying to tell him it's nothing. "It's not nothing, look at you," he insisted brightly; your smile widened, as if on cue, "you were getting teary thinking about Ollie just minutes ago; go on, what's on your mind now. Is it Venetia?"

"'s not Venetia," you insisted, finally joining him in the room, sitting yourself on the edge of the bed looking around.

Your room; the room you share with Felix, and so close to Oliver too.

"It's our room, isn't it?" It's like he can read your damn mind, practically giggling like a high schooler at the mere thoughts of what the two of you were bound to get up to.

"You were so insistent," you finally teased, grinning wide and leaning back against him, "it's almost like you like me or something."

"That's fucking lies and slander!" Felix crows, your head on his chest, "I'll sue you for that -" but you're already moving, straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed either side of his head as you grin down at him.

"Felix Catton's sharing his bed, call the tabloids!" You teased, leaning in, and when he captures your lips in a kiss, it's like he wants you to taste how sharp his amusement is. He bites and teases and frees his hands to pull you in. Quickly everything shifts and moves and there's something possessive about the way he kisses you, holds you, has you under him and pinned and breathless before you realise what had happened.

"You think I'd let mum kick you out like that?" His pupils are blown so wide with want you think they could swallow you whole in this moment; "never want you that far away if I can help it," it comes out as a breathless admission, almost like it escaped him, like he's caught up in the moment, and you never want him to stop talking to you like this, "can't say that at Oxford - fuck Oxford," he mumbles, his lips on your neck in the next instance. His teeth sting without breaking the skin, sucking with intent to leave an ache that would remind you of him every time you touched it for the next few days.

"Us and Ollie," his lips are gentle when he kisses across your chest, your collar bones, "I'm sure between the three of us we'll end up getting into proper tabloid trouble," you can feel his smirk, and there's something electrifying about the possibilities you find yourself considering.

"Us and Ollie," you agree with a roughish grin. Felix captures your mouth once more in a kiss, matching your energy, your enthusiasm, but adds, "Ollie tomorrow."

And at that, you remember; giddy laughter escapes you.

"Our room," you can't help but remind him, and Felix's grin stretches wider.

"Venetia can wait for you a little longer."

[keepxsolxinxsolxinvictus]

Malec (aka Matthew Daddario and Harry Shum Jr.) Say Goodbye to 'Shadowhunters'...for Now

On that epic finale, fandom, and weddings...onscreen and off.

By Emily Tannenbaum

Published: May 07, 2019

[Bringing back an oldie from Cosmopolitan]

As I corral Harry Shum Jr. and Matthew Daddario around the Cosmo offices, Matt bounces on his heels, pointing to random objects—like a fancy golden coffee table and fuzzy pillows—asking me if he can bring them home with him (the answer is always "no"). Harry is much more calm, back straight and confident, happy to just laugh at his co-star.

It's jarring how their roles are almost the reverse of their characters: For the last three years on Freeform's hit series Shadowhunters (based on The Mortal Instruments, by Cassandra Clare). Matt played Alec Lightwood, the stoic half-angel leader with a heart of gold, while Harry embodied the eccentric Warlock Magnus Bane, always moving, portaling somewhere or changing his look...not to mention throwing shit around his beautiful New York apartment.

As they say, opposites attract, and Matt and Harry captured the hearts of the entire Shadowhunters fandom as a certified power couple. Malec has certainly had their share of rom-com moments (they share their first kiss when the warlock crashed Alec's first wedding) and dramatic breakups (don't remind me about 2X18). But last night, Shadowhunters gave Malec the happy ending they deserve, complete with gorgeous wedding and happily ever after as the Inquisitor of the Clave and High Warlock of Alicante.

A wedding finale is hardly unheard of in the TV world, bordering on cliché, but for Shadowhunters there was truly no other option. The union of a strong gay man and proud bisexual has been the cornerstone of this fandom throughout its run, inspiring countless LGBTQ+ fans and landing a GLAAD Award for Outstanding Drama (not to mention sweeping the 2018 People's Choice Awards the same year as its premature cancellation). How else do you celebrate their legacy, if not by throwing a giant party and giving our boys one more showstopping kiss?

Of course, as surreal as it is to discuss the end of Shadowhunters with the ship to end all ships, it's even tougher for them to say goodbye. Here, Matt and Harry talk about the Malec wedding, balancing fandom with real life, and why Alec had to stay mortal.

The Malec Wedding

Tell me about the wedding. You’ve built this relationship for three years now, and you’ve seen how massively people have reacted—what did it feel like to give them that milestone?

Harry Shum Jr.: It had to happen. It was a great moment to bring everyone in and say, "Look at this joyous moment."

It was nice to have everybody back on-set. It really felt both, for the show itself and for us as a whole, that this was a great ending. Because it was the last thing we filmed. I'm happy that we got these two episodes so that we could do it because it would have been really unfortunate if the fans hadn't gotten that wedding. And then fans can play in their heads now, Magnus and Alec are married and doing whatever.

Matthew Daddario: You know, it's like the end of a chapter.

Harry: We're safe now.

So correct me if I'm wrong, but Alec is just a Shadowhunter still? He's not immortal.

Matt: Just a Shadowhunter? [Laughs] Yes, I am.

Some fans were really rooting for Immortal Husbands...like, intensely. How do you feel about this?

Matt: This is the thing I always have trouble understanding is that people want the immortality. And this is a topic that's been written about and discussed for thousands of years, and everyone comes to the same conclusion: the curse of immortality. It is not always the best thing in the world to live forever. In fact, that's close to this kind of a godliness that is considered almost like a living hell.

For Magnus, he's living and living in this endless loop without the repercussion of the totality of life. And if Magnus was instead mortal, would we not celebrate their wonderful life? But it's because he's immortal, we worry about what happens after the fact.

Matt: Right. You can get killed. They're immortal, and then they get the shot off the top of the castle walls, and you're like, "Whoa, that's screwed up." But at the same time, every mortal has to deal with that. [Turns to Harry] So it's not your mortality that you're upset about when you first lost your powers. You're not upset about the mortality, you're upset about the loss of your identity.

Harry: But here’s the difference: It’s not the immortality that you get shot and you can’t die.

Some fans just want Malec on an even playing field. But I find it really sad that Alec would have to live and lose like Jace and Izzy—

Matt: Right. Magnus lost people constantly, and he was kind of a shell of a person at one time. Up until meeting Alec, he's filling his life with debauchery, anything to heighten the senses. And, you know, trying to find places where he can take care of people. And he does get involved with helping vampires because they're immortal as well. There is a kind of emptiness to him in the first season.

Harry: No, for sure. And I think then there is the big switch.

Did you get emotional reading the final episode?

Harry: Everyone did at the table read. One of our producers reading off the narration, he couldn't even get through and actually walked out and someone had to take over. And then there was this silence in the end when the last words were spoken. I think that silence spoke volumes.

Has the end of Shadowhunters hit home for you yet?

Matt: I think it will hit me when I don't think about it for a week. If one week passes without me thinking about Shadowhunters, I will say, "Shit."

We think about it every day. This is a huge part of our lives. This is three years of this. And this show, it's a hit. People are talking about it, people from around the world. It's hard to deny that.

Will you still engage with Shadowhunters stans, or are you emotionally ready to move on to another world?

Matt: Look, we're done filming Shadowhunters, but the fans of the show are always welcome to ask questions and all that kind of stuff. But eventually, we're going to run out of new answers.

I'm always happy to talk to a Shadowhunters fan because they are enthusiastic, they care about what they're talking about, and many of them have built friendships off of it, so it matters to them, and therefore it matters to me.

Harry: Because you gave a part of your life.

Matt: Your job is to have an effect on people, and therefore you have a certain responsibility to engage with the people who are affected by this. You can choose not to, you could choose to go completely incognito or to ignore it, but to dismiss it is, frankly, insulting and kind of silly and maybe slightly narcissistic.

But I think that you do need to have an understanding that you're not any different or special because of this involvement with culture. And why would you want to be miserable about it? Why wouldn't you embrace it?

Matt, you kept your own wedding a secret until your one-year anniversary. Was it harder to keep the details of the finale secret or your wedding?

Matt: [Laughs] It was definitely easier to keep the wedding secret. I just told everyone no one's allowed to take photos. And people did a pretty good job with that.

Harry: Yeah, sometimes I think it's a nice...regardless of what your profession is, but particularly ours, to have something just for yourself.

Matt: Not to say that people don't deserve to know, but I think that anybody would feel like, hey, I would like this moment just to be mine for a little bit.

People can be a little bit demanding. One time this girl is walking down the street, I'm walking down the street, she's on the phone, it's the middle of the day, she's FaceTiming somebody.

She sees me, she stops me by the touching me on the shoulder and says, "Oh, whoa, wait, look! Look who's here!" and hold the phone up like this and goes, "Crazy!" and then keeps walking. And I'm like, fuck you. Like, what the fuck?! [Laughing] You don't do that to someone.

It just felt so invasive. It just feels a little bit like, you're not a human. You're the thing I see on TV. But I guess it's just excitement, whatever.

You obviously know about the #SaveShadowhunters campaign. What would you say if suddenly, some other network wanted to pick up the show?

Harry: I think it's a conversation. You know, we love playing these characters. But as time passes, things change. Like introducing a baby into your life, or whatever the next phase is.

But it's also a wonderful group of people. So, of course, instead of saying, "Absolutely not," it's definitely open for conversation for me.

Matt: Honestly, the ending is successful. And, you know, there's a danger now. What if you screw it up? [Laughs]

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (2)

summary: you and Steve share some time together after so much time apart, and you finally start getting closer to your goal back in Europe after so many years

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warning: just some bad words

note: hey guys! hope u guys like this part! we're getting close to the mythic winter soldier >:). i'll try to edit and publish next part tomorrow after work. i'm close to finish this fic, probably will be 6-7 chapters. so i'll see you around, thank you for the support <3

part 1 ; part 3 ; part 4

You thought having Steve back would make things better. Not that they were any worse, but there couldn't have been a worse time to go through a goddamn alien invasion.

“Holy shit,” you spoke into the air, but Steve at your side elbowed you, hearing you clearly, his scowl meeting you amidst the masses of air. “Are you seeing what I see?”

“Do you have to say it like that?“

“Ah, poor, right Steve. God save him from hearing a bad word because a little star on his suit will die,” Tony Stark walked past you, catching up to overhear the conversation, teasing you with a smirk on his face. You tensed as he passed behind you, shaking your head to avoid his gaze, earning you a confused look from Steve.

Tony continued on his way, currently accustomed to you not even glancing his way when they were in the same place. His suit was almost completely shredded, an unfamiliar feeling of dread coursing through you from the pit of your stomach until you felt the heartburn in the back of your throat bother you. Ever since you saw on the news that he was proclaimed Ironman, that feeling of dread had been with you every time you saw him. You knew why, but you didn't want to give voice to those thoughts…

“For a person who's lived this many years, you're pretty bad at dissembling,” Steve spoke again as Tony disappeared down the hallway and you shook your head shutting him up, refocusing on what was important. “I can't believe I crashed a plane into the Arctic just to get this thing back to the surface before me.”

“Well, it'll be in good hands now,” you nodded in the direction of the approaching Norse god, his walk a bit overbearing as he dedicated sidelong glances at them as he approached the scepter of Loki, his brother.

“If you're done admiring it, time to go.”

Steve moved in the direction of the elevator, waving his hand for you to join him, but you shook your head in refusal and pointed him to the stairs. Your friend didn't read too much into your gesture, lifting a shoulder and resuming his walk to where the rest of the team was grouped. Just looking at them, you remembered the smug smile Fury had given you when you agreed, finally, to be part of the team, after learning that Steve would be too. He was damn lucky, that's all, because that wouldn't happen again. What were the odds of two alien invasions happening in one year, after all?

After they delivered the scepter and Loki, you'd be long gone from there, focusing on your primary mission in getting into SHIELD in the first place, which Fury had as much knowledge of as you did.

“Hey,” you greeted Steve again, meeting him just after the Norse gods disappeared.

“Hey,” he approached, wearing that brown leather jacket he hadn't let go of since the moment he touched it. The team was taking their leave behind him, each focusing on their own business from now on. As you crossed glances with Natasha Romanoff, that feeling of familiarity coursed through your body once again. It was odd, you were sure you had seen her sometime before. “Do you want a ride?”

You saw Steve shake his head in the direction of his motorcycle, moving faster than him as you sensed Tony was approaching to say goodbye.

“Is something wrong with your friend?” you heard him speak and as each time you couldn't help but compare his voice to Howard. They were so alike in their youth and adulthood. You didn't even want to think about becoming a close person in his life when you knew what you knew. If he found out about it through other means it would be a disaster. As much as you wanted to look out for his safety, perhaps as Howard would've liked, you didn't want to cross that line without figuring out all the loose ends first. That would be a problem if Fury ever thought of summoning them back.

“She's shy,” Steve replied, and you had to hold back the urge to reach back and pat his head. “Big fan of yours.”

“Really?” Tony sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought she hated me.”

“No, not at all. She studied some mechanical stuff too and admires your work from afar. But you know, never meet your idols,” you could make out Steve's smile behind your words, inwardly wincing with embarrassment.

“Well, I'm not that bad. Tell her anytime she wants we can talk.”

You heard no more of their conversation, feeling the bile travel down your esophagus to the back of your throat. How Tony could look at you and not recognize you as the strange woman who sat next to him at his father's wake was completely beyond you, but you weren't too intrigued if it helped you stay away. You didn't want him to start asking questions.

When you heard Steve's footsteps approach and the doors of Tony's red car close, you turned around to face your friend, his face of fake innocence angering you a little.

“You're an asshole,” you spat the words at him almost in a half-whisper, afraid that for some reason Tony might hear them.

“There's not that much of a lie in what I said,” the blond barely lifted a shoulder, mounting his motorcycle.

“You could've simply told him the truth: I do dislike him.”

“That's not true,” Steve shook his head, starting the motorcycle after you got on behind him.

“How could you know that?”

“He's Howard's son,” Steve blurted out, your movements slowing as you tried to get comfortable looking at him in the bike's mirror. “You couldn't hate him, even if you wanted to.”

You didn't rebut, not because he was right, but because it was the first time he'd mentioned Howard since you'd seen him after almost seventy years.

Since you'd run into him in that secret section of SHIELD, you two hadn't had much time for you to fill him in on the things that had happened, Fury jumping into the action directly telling them that the object Steve sacrificed his life for was back in the hands of the enemy and they needed to stop him. You could barely tell him about Howard's death and about Peggy as they were thrown onto the battlefield.

Now, as Steve drove you back to your apartment, all you could think about was that you still hadn't had time to have that talk. That talk where you would have to tell him a lot of things.

The smell of lavender that prevailed in your apartment did little to calm the little anxiety you felt the moment Steve closed the door behind him. A strange tension surrounded your shoulders and you were sure he felt it too, by the odd way he cleared his throat, moving into the living room, where he seemed to almost touch the ceiling of how small everything was.

“Nice place,” he commented absently, eyeing the paintings and colorful bookshelves you had in the living room and dining room.

“Sit. Want some coffee?” you ran to the kitchen, looking to escape that searing uncertainty.

“Water's fine.”

Fine. Water it is.

Returning to the living room, you found him mounted in your largest armchair, his knees too bent toward his chest for all the space he took up.

“So…”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Straight to the point. You didn't blame him, he must have been too curious. You didn't even know how he'd spent those days swallowing the urge to ask.

So you got straight to the point. You told him everything that happened after he crashed the plane. You told him about his funeral, about how the government started chasing you so hard that you had to leave the country and you kept going for years only because of Howard; you told him about how Peggy went on with her life, working, founding SHIELD many years later with Howard; you told him about Howard dying in a car accident, the half-truth burning your throat. Steve didn't even think anything was wrong by the way your voice cracked and you fought to keep the tears inside, what you were realizing was harder now that he was here. You told him that you came back from Europe thanks to Peggy, as head of SHIELD, making sure to keep you under her protection, and currently you still were. Maybe you had as much power as the Director himself because of how much Peggy saw to it that the Feds didn't bother.

You told him about Peggy getting sick, about her Alzheimer's. You told him how she hardly remembered things now; she had few lucid moments and forgot things very quickly. You gave him a moment to assimilate the information when you noticed his eyes sparkling.

“But she… did she live well?”

“Very well,” you nodded, smiling sincerely.

Steve nodded, letting a little tension escape from his shoulders. The silence that enveloped you two was a little more pleasant, leaving room for you to stop overthinking about what you should and shouldn't tell Steve.

“And you… what did you do all those years in Europe?” Steve was perceptive to take the one topic you didn't delve into at all, and you sighed in defeat. “It was… what, forty-five years?”

“Yes,” you nodded in the middle of a sigh, your gaze returning to the black TV screen, Steve's eyes fixed on your profile. “I studied a lot.”

“I assumed so, but was that all?”

“You might say. I studied nine majors,” you counted mentally, remembering the pictures that were stored somewhere in that apartment, courtesy of Peggy and Howard.

Steve whistled, a short laugh following his surprised expression.

“And why didn't you want to talk about that?”

“It's not that interesting-”

“Not that interesting? Better tell me what grades you have,” Steve grumbled, not giving way for you to try to avoid the subject one more time. Being that you had only talked about it with Peggy before, you took an inspiration to remember what it was like to tell her to reminisce with Steve.

“I started with some basics. Bachelor's degrees in math, physics and chemistry. Then I moved on to some engineering: mechanical, electronics, mechatronics. Astronomy, criminology, some marketing to survive when I went back to the States and they were in the middle of the technology revolution. I was studying medicine when Peggy called me back.”

“What year?”

“First one.”

“Wow,” Steve looked at you, as if he suddenly had to see you in a different light, his eyebrows still raised in surprise. “That's amazing. You know a little bit about everything.”

“Yeah, it really helped me get some good jobs and break even so Howard and Peggy didn't have to spend so much,” you nodded in his direction, his gaze intent on everything you were saying.

“I'm glad they took such good care of you,” Steve gave a lopsided smile, the warmest, most memory-evoking smile he could have given you.

“I wish I could've repaid them for all they did for me,” you commented, with a tone of remorse and sadness that Steve picked up on instantly.

“I'm sure they were more than satisfied to know you were okay. That was their priority. You know you couldn't make those decisions for them, right?”

You nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

Steve took in all the information you had to give him like a sponge, surely thinking that after seeing an alien invasion nothing could be that surprising. You guys spent a good while there, relaxing in your living room, placing food orders when the conversation turned to movies and series that Steve knew nothing about.

You spent an excellent rest of the day, Steve asking the odd question here and there, until you decided to watch the Star Wars movies first at the blond's request. You felt like they were back in '43 again, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, dreaming of the possibility of a life beyond what their social context allowed them.

Perhaps your dream was fulfilled in the most unexpected way possible.

-

The days ahead were now to be very careful. Steve would be spending more time at SHIELD, being that it would become basically his full-time job, and you needed to likewise spend time there focusing on your primary mission.

“What?”

Fury's eyebrows inched up, his face showing disbelief enough to make you doubt your decisions for a second, his forearms resting on his desk leaning forward. You shook your head slightly, maintaining your posture.

“I'm not going to tell him.”

“Why the hell not?” Fury raised his voice, as if for some reason your decision affected him personally.

“Because I don't want to, Nicholas. And I need you to help me cover it up.”

“Ah,” the man slumped back in his black chair, one hand rubbing his forehead as if the subject caused him as much of a headache as it did her. “Not only do you have to lie, but you have to lump me in the lying sack with you.”

“I'm not lying…! That much…”

“You do know that lies have short legs? What are you going to do when he finds out?”

“Nicholas, I need you to understand that Steve is not my priority right now. It's been twenty-one years and we haven't made any progress. I need to get to the fucking bottom of this, because whoever is behind it is still out there. I'm sure of it.”

Fury pursed his lips, barely shaking his head in a subtle nod, reluctanly agreeing with you finally.

“I'll put Steve on the front lines of every mission I can find,” Fury conceded to your request, his index finger tapping the wood of his desk like clockwork.

“Thank-”

“But you,” he raised his hand, pointing that index finger at you accusingly, interrupting your genuine thanks, “you're going to have to start thinking outside the box.”

“I have some guesses, actually.”

Fury rested his arms on the edge of the desk, leaning over to give you his undivided attention.

“Enlighten me.”

-

“So you're going back to Europe,” was the first thing you heard Steve say when you met him at SHIELD, two months after extreme missions he had to attend, barely spending a day at the facility before leaving again.

At first you thought Fury was overdoing it and offered to talk to him if he wanted to slow down, but surprisingly Steve was fine with it. In fact, he told you that it helped him deal with all the stress of having been in the Arctic for seventy years, and since you hadn't been through anything like that, you weren't going to judge.

“Yeah, evil doesn't rest,” you smiled absently at him, holding tightly to the strap of the black travel suitcase with enough belongings for a whole year.

“You know I already have a phone, right? You can call me,” Steve commented, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and shaking it in front of her to emphasize his request.

“Yeah, you gave me your number last week.”

“Ah, I just wanted to remind you because it's been five days since we've seen each other and I just found out you're going on a one-way trip,” his reproachful voice, but with some amused tones in there somewhere, made you wince as you remembered that you had indeed forgotten to inform your friend that you were going away, for quite a long time. In your defense, you had already gone too many years without telling anyone anything, and you were just getting used to having a friend to talk to more often again.

“Sorry,” you offered him an embarrassed smile, barely earning the shake of his head from side to side. “I'll bring lots of gifts from Europe, I promise.”

You raised your free hand to the level of your head, smiling more confidently at him, with his you better response echoing in your head as you averted your gaze to find behind him Tony Stark walking directly towards where you two were standing. There was no way you could run away from the inevitable interaction with the mechanic without overlooking saying goodbye to Steve, when you weren't going to see him for probably a long time. So you tensed up, the blond reading your body language long before you realized you were being too obvious.

And just as Steve was about to turn around, Tony patted his shoulder in salute.

“Nice to see you again,” through his sunglasses, he smiled openly at you, and you had to force a tight-lipped smile under Steve's tense gaze on you. “What are they up to now? Fury called me in for a confidential thing, won't I be teaming up with you guys?”

You were quick to shake your head, Steve barely muttering a no, amused to see you so dazed and nervous in front of the mechanic.

“That's too bad. I don't think-” Tony interrupted his own words as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Answering it right in front of them, you shrank in place trying to run away from there. “Happy.”

“Tony,” the man on the other end of the line didn't sound so happy to hear it unlike Tony, who had a big smile on his face. “Why are you forwarding my calls?”

“What? No, of course not. It's just that you're on my blocking contacts when I activate do not disturb and since I was driving…” Stark lifted a shoulder, indifferent to the looks you and Steve shared in front of him.

The other line on the phone was silent for a few seconds until chaos broke out.

“Pourquoi tu ne réponds pas aux appels? Pourquoi pas une urgence? Et si ta maison était en feu?” Happy grumbled from the other end, Tony scowling at the phone as if it was the fault of technology.

“Happy, how many times do I have to tell you to stop talking to me in French? I don't under-”

“He's asking you to answer the phone when you call, maybe someday it will be an emergency,” you translated before you could stop yourself, biting your tongue when Steve sent you a raised eyebrow look with a playful smile.

“You know French?” Tony addressed you, probably as surprised as you were because it was the first time you'd actively addressed him.

“She studied mechanics in France,” your friend spoke before you could think of anything on your own, and you had to physically battle to restrain your body from punching him in the face.

Steve had to stop doing that.

“Wow. Impressive,” Tony shook his head in nods, detailing her with his eyes with genuine curiosity.

“Tony!” Happy's voice interrupted the moment that felt tense, and Tony refocused on the reason he'd entered the SHIELD facility in the first place.

“Ah,” the mechanic grumbled, moving to continue on his way. “See you guys later.”

He waved his hand as he walked, turning his back to them and you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared down the hallway. At least he was still alive.

When you looked back at Steve, that strange smile hadn't disappeared from his face.

“What other language do you speak?”

He looked like a child, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“I'm not going to talk to you right now.”

You held the strap of the suitcase to sling it over your shoulder and walk in the direction of the exit, when Steve snatched it out of your hands and slung it over his own shoulder, his offended look being the only thing you got back.

“Why not?”

“You need to stop saying those things to Tony,” you frowned at him, lowering your voice as if, again, the mechanic might hear them. “Don't you know that lies have short legs?”

Steve laughed like you’d never heard before, probably not even in the forties, taking his stomach for a laugh. When you went out to the avenue and he followed you with sporadic laughter, you could not help but outline your own smile, missing in advance the time you spent with him.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Steve shook his head, his face red from laughing so much. He was barely calming down when you managed to stop a cab.

“You’re an idiot,” you snatched the suitcase from his hands and gave it to the taxi driver who had just gotten out of his car. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily this time,” Steve joked, approaching to wrap you in a big hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, even though you had to stand on your toes to hug him tightly. The serum hadn’t given you as much height as he had. “Call me, write me or just let me know how you are. At least once a day.”

“Yeah dad,” you walked away, breaking the hug and shaking your hands casually. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Take care.”

“Sure. You take care of Peggy,” his eyes softened, the mere memory of Peggy returning him.

“Of course.”

His warm smile was the last thing you saw before getting into the cab.

[popculturebuffet]

Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Retrospective

Hello all you happy people. I'm jake, I do reviews and in 2020, towards the start of this blog, I started a retrospective of the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck and after a long hiatus and with help from my good friend kev, I finally finishe dit. I intended for this to be a post of ALL 12 chapters, but tumblr wouldn't let me do that so instead here's my previous compliation of the first 9 linked bellow followed by the final 3. It's a mild pain in the ass I know. ON the bright side I did go back and touch up a few chapters as I forgot to add a quote to king of the klondike and the final two chapters and for reasons lost to time quoted man down under for Dreamtime Duck of Never Never.

This also seems like the perfect place to announce a little something special for next year. Starting January 2025 Kev is using his patreons to continue the project: While the main 12 part story is done there's still a bunch of extra chapters Rosa did over his career, from the prequel published shortly before this story of Ducks Dimes and Destinies, to my personal faviorite Disney Duck Story and perfect epilogue to Barks Run as a whole, Dream of a LIfetime, to this story's direct sequel a letter from home and that story's unintetional prequel the old castle's secret. There's a lot more life and times to explore and you'll be seeing it all next year. THank you for reading and enjoy

[pandorasprongs]

INTERLUDE | are we still friends?

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

SUMMARY: after months of ghosting, reader finally gets to talk to jamie again at the end of her second year.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: so we're going back in time to when reader's in uni and early in jamie's man city career :) hope u all enjoy! (also i know frats aren't a thing in the uk but i didn't find that out till after i published the prologue rip) i'd also suggest listening to 'are we still friends?' by tyler the creator for this chapter too just for the vibes — also!! thank you so much for 200 followers it's insane so many of you enjoy my fics :))

Age 19

"And that's it for this semester! Congrats everyone!" Your professor greets the room as the last person finishes their presentation. The room cheers, — albeit weakly given that most of the students there were coming down from their finals week caffeine addiction, — and everyone soon starts filing out.

You pass by your professor on the way out with Liv and hand her the trinket that the two of you planned on giving out to all of the professors you've had this semester. Some out of gratitude, some to make them feel guilty for the low marks they've given. This certain professor, a lady in her mid-40s who has been in the STEM area of research for years, had designated the two of you her favorites.

"Thank you so much, ladies. It was such a pleasure having the two of you in my class." You both give her a warm smile before heading into the hall. 

When you make it outside of the building, Liv lets out a cathartic scream of relief. "It's finally done!" You laugh at your friend's reaction. You were glad too, but not enough to yell in public.

As you headed back to your student hall, you pulled out your phone. It had become routine to message Jamie every time you were heading back to Manchester, which you were the next week when your parents picked you up.

Hey Jamie! How've you been? How's Man City? Saw the match with Cardiff, you did great.

You press send before adding on, If you're still here, maybe you want to meet up before you go back? I'm heading back to Manchester next week too if you want to meet up then instead. 

You send that too and type out I miss you, but after glancing at the rest of your unread messages, you delete it and sigh in defeat.

You don't even know why you're still trying. You haven't spoken to Jamie in months. No, it's almost been a year. The last time you did was when you went home for the summer holiday after your first year of uni, but even then, Jamie seemed distant and cold. He left the lunch early too after he got a call from his manager, much to your dismay. Even before that, his messages to you were getting less and less frequent till he finally stopped replying a few months into your second year.

Maybe it stung more knowing it was around the time you left that you realized how really felt about him. It wasn't just platonic love anymore; you might've actually been in love with your best friend then. But those feelings have since disappeared, at the same rate that Jamie disappeared from your life.

So now you were in a pub, supposedly celebrating the end of your second year in uni, but you couldn't stop staring at your phone, waiting for a reply. You've been re-reading your message to him and staring at that delivered in the corner until you finally broke out of the trance thanks to one of your friends calling out to you.

"Oi! You're not even tipsy. Are you playing or not?" Tina asks and you shut your phone before shifting your focus to the conversation. Right, you're playing Never Have I Ever.

"Shit, sorry," you apologize before lifting your hand. "I am now. What's the last one?"

"It was never have I ever slept with a footballer," Liv explains quickly, but the entire group had this knowing look on their faces that told you everything they thought of you.

Maybe it was fueled by the anger directed at said footballer or the fact that you knew they all thought you were a prude for not having hooked up with anyone the whole time in uni, — as far as they knew, — but you give them a knowing look that caused everyone's expressions to shift.

"No fucking way, you have?" Sam asks and you take a shot as confirmation.

"Technically yes," you explain but decide to hide which player it was. Because if they knew it was one of the up-and-comings of the Premier League, you'd never hear the end of it. Plus, one of them was bound to snitch to a newspaper for sure. "Back when I was 17 and before I left for uni, I slept with someone who ended up getting scouted." You neglect to mention that someone was your best friend, who agreed to be your first time because you were sure you'd make a bad decision the moment you stepped foot in a uni.

If they knew where you were from, they would've figured it out instantly. But you didn't have a Mancunian accent and none of them had ever bothered to ask where you were from over these two years — except Liv, who was no longer paying attention to the whole game and just scrolling on her phone, — so you were basically in the clear.

They moved on from your grand revelation quickly and continued with the game. At the end of it, you were probably the most sober out of all of them, so you ordered a Cosmopolitan. Maybe alcohol led to bad decisions, but at least it kept you off your phone.

You continued to talk with your friends till Tina gasped. You all turn to her to ask what happened when she exclaims, pretty loudly, "Looks like all of us have a chance at checking 'hooking up with a footballer' off our lists tonight." She giggles before leaning back into her seat.

You join the rest of them to look at what Tina had just seen and realize that not one, but two teams' worth of players had just walked into the pub. From Cardiff City and... Man City.

You already feel your heartbeat quickening and your eyes instantly start looking for Jamie in the crowd. The thoughts of 'he has to be here,' and 'he can't be here,' battle it out in your head, but when your eyes finally land on your former best friend, you don't know if the butterflies in your stomach are a good thing or not.

"Well, fuck it." You hear one of the girls you're with say as she downs another shot and gets up from the table. Some of the others join her in the group, but you're still frozen from nerves. Best way to heat up? More cocktails.

You watch with the other girls from a distance as the braver ones take their chances with the footballers on the other side of the bar. But for most of it, you can't take your eyes off Jamie. 

He looks really different, like bad different. He's loud and boisterous, but not in the way he was before. You watch how he talks to his teammates and you can almost see how his overconfidence masks the level of insecurity he has with much older players. Or maybe you're overthinking it. You haven't seen him in a while.

When your friends get back to the table along with some new drinks and stories, you try and listen intently. But you really couldn't stop looking behind them.

You don't think Jamie's felt your eyes on him, so you weren't worried he'd turn and see you staring. But if he did, you wondered how he'd react. Would he go wide-eyed and stare back or just look away as if he didn't just spot his best friend of a decade at a pub? You were about to find out.

After downing one of the drinks in front of you, — you weren't even sure if you were the one who ordered that one, to be honest — you excuse yourself from the table. When they saw where you were walking over to, they decided to start cheering. It did help your nerves, even though you were approaching them for different reasons.

"Jamie!" You get his attention and the moment his eyes land on yours, shock fills his face. You almost scoff at that. He goes to the place where you're studying and assumes that he wouldn't run into you?

You didn't even plan out what you were going to say, so instead you sarcastically greet, "Nice to see you here. In Cardiff. Where I go to uni."

Jamie doesn't say anything and just continues to stare at you. His cocky facade almost slips too, till one of the other Man City players rests his arms on Jamie's shoulders and he suddenly tenses. You've seen him before, probably in one of those tabloid articles, judging from his overall demeanor. He seemed like the type to get into those scandals.

"Ah fuck, I thought we got rid of you lot already. Don't you have enough drinks from your friends over there?" George, you finally remembered his name, states and you're taken aback. He must've seen you coming from that direction.

"No, I'm not here for that." You answer bluntly before turning back to Jamie, starting to get annoyed. "Are you seriously not going to say anything?" 

The Jamie you knew would be the first to defend you, even if it was just over someone knocking into you in the halls or stealing your pens. But it wasn't that you were after, honestly. You just wanted him to say something, anything at all.

"You know her, Tartt?" George scoffs and looks at Jamie. When Jamie continues to stay silent and just looks down at his feet, he chuckles and nudges the younger footballer. "A past hook-up, huh? Judging by your reaction. No need to be embarrassed, Jamie," he glances back at you and tries to whisper, "She's quite fit. Well, by your standards."

You roll your eyes, the anger starting to bubble. Now, Jamie had to say something right? But seeing no reaction, you correct him yourself. "Look, I'm not one of his bitter exes. I'm his..." You actually don't how to end that sentence.

George takes advantage of your pause and by now, some of the footballers around them had turned their attention to the scene. "Look woman, I don't care who you are to him, but take. the. fucking. hint."

You still don't remove your eyes from him. "Jamie," you whisper, almost pleading at that point.

Jamie looks up and seeing the multiple eyes on him at the moment, he finally speaks up, "You want an autograph or something? We're trying to enjoy our night, so I'll sign a napkin for you and you can be on your way."

The coldness in his response causes you to stumble and you take a step back. What did he just say to you? You try and search his face for any sign of remorse or guilt. Something that says, 'Please don't hate me, I didn’t mean it.' Nothing.

The sounds of the other footballers laughing don’t help either; it only contributes to the rising feeling of heat and embarrassment in you. You can feel the tears starting to form. There's no reason for you to break down in front of all of them, so you answer quickly, "Right. No need. Sorry for disturbing your night." 

You turn around quickly, but not without hearing George ask Jamie who you were. For a second, you almost thought he'd give him the truth.

"Dunno, probably some fan I met before." That breaks the dam and the first few tears drop to your cheeks. A crying girl isn't an irregular sight at a bar, but you really didn't feel like staying in the same place as Jamie anymore.

You approach the table to grab your things when you notice that most of your friends had already scattered across the pub. The only one left there was Liv, — who was the designated driver for tonight despite your university being a 5-minute walk away — who notices your tear-stained face and is quick to rush over to you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shake your head. "Don't worry. I just want to head back." Liv hadn't even known you for two years, but she knew that you weren't one to talk about your feelings. Instead, she nodded and offered to help you out of the pub, but you shook your head once again. You had a relatively high limit and partner it with what just happened with Jamie, you were practically sober. You grabbed your clutch and coat before rushing out of the place, furiously wiping the teams from your face.

Fuck Jamie Tartt. Fuck those Man City losers. Fuck everyone involved in turning your best friend into whoever that was. The boy you once knew was gone. Fully and completely gone. You had to accept that.

But even then, you thought you'd hear the door open behind you. You thought it would be Jamie. You thought he'd chase after you. You thought he'd pull you into a hug. You thought he'd apologize for what he did and for everything. You thought he'd cradle your face as he did so. You thought he'd plant a tender kiss on your lips as an apology too. You thought he'd re-enter your life as if nothing had changed.

But he did none of that. 

And you went home alone.

—

"(Y/N)? It's Liv, again!" You hear from the other side of your door, but make no attempt to move from your position in your bed. It was just too comfortable, perfect for wallowing in when you've officially ended the longest friendship you've ever had. Liv continues, "I'm heading home soon, but I asked Donna if she could keep bringing food for you to your door till you head home."

You were touched by the gesture but knew you weren't going to touch any of those bags till late at night when the hall was completely deserted. Till then, you'd be sleeping. Your parents had delayed picking you up till the last day and you've never been more glad about that.

"See you next semester! Love you!" were Liv's parting words and once you heard her footsteps recede, you fell back to sleep.

In all honestly, you've lost track of time at that point. Yeah, it was pathetic sitting in your room as if you were mourning the death of a loved one, but it's not like anyone cared. Well, Liv did, which is why she started bringing you food when she realized you weren't leaving your room, but she was heading home to London. Your parents had no idea what happened and you intended to keep it that way. The rest of your friends were off with their own lives, not even giving you a second thought. Jamie sure as hell didn't care what happened to you. He made that clear.

So for the rest of your time left in the hall, you just stayed in your room. Like a hermit. Jamie would've found it funny, you thought once, till it caused you to burst into tears once again. The more you tried to forget Jamie, the more you thought of him, which was the worst loop you could be in.

He's even in your dreams. One of them felt so real because you were in your exact position in reality when your phone rang. You saw his name as the caller, but 'dream you' just pressed decline. Even deleted the missed call notification. Good for her.

Then, you wake up to a missed call and a text from your mom. On route to Cardiff! Can't wait to see you, sweetie. 

Ah, fuck. Had that much time really passed? You jumped out of your bed and start fixing up. Technically, you had 3 and a half hours to do so, but counting showering, cleaning up your suitcases from your dusty closet, and shoving almost a years worth of items into said suitcases, then you were in a bind and never prayed for traffic more in your life.

And from the sheer fear of your parents giving you a sermon in front of the entire building, you almost forgot about your former state of wallowing in self-pity. Then you were faced with taking down the decorations on your wall. 

There was a mix of everything from school banners, even flyers, and pictures you'd taken with your friends and parents. You started with those first until the only ones left were the ones related to Jamie. You had pictures with him from multiple stages of your life. There was one from the first football match of his you ever attended and one from your graduation, too. 

You had kept the note he made you when you were 16 and you joined your first individual debate tournament. ‘Fucking smash it!’ was scrawled in his handwriting on a post-it note, which you've hung on your wall since your first year of uni. 

Even the rings he used to buy you for your birthday till his mom told him to find something new. You slowly pulled them from your desk drawer and realized there were only four. One missing. They were old anyway. You end up shrugging it off and placing them into your suitcase.

When you started inserting the rest of the items into an envelope, you continue to look at that picture with Jamie from when you were seven. Suddenly overcome by an emotion — rage, pity, nostalgia, you're not really sure, — you crumple it with your two hands and hold it like that for a few seconds. 

You finally let go and see the two distorted faces, you're suddenly overcome by feelings of guilt. 7-year-old Jamie didn't do anything wrong; what was the point of taking your frustrations on a picture of him? Maybe you can throw darts at a printed photo of the current Jamie when you get home instead.

You flatten the picture as best you can before putting it back into the pile in the envelope. You finish packing your desk and place all the items into one of your suitcases. You look around the room, satisfied. Sure, your sheets weren't made yet, but you were going to leave the place anyway and you needed to shower. It was 40 minutes till your parents would knock on your door, — as seen in the picture they sent of the GPS — so it was more than enough for you to get ready.

Time passed by quickly and soon, your dad was helping bring your bags down to the car while your mom talked about how much weight you've lost while you were away, like they always did. 

"Oh! Jamie, he had a game against Cardiff last week, right?" Your dad remembers as he starts the car. You almost freeze at the name, but turn to look out the window to avoid your parents catching whatever expression you had on your face. You were too tired to mask it properly.

"Yes, he was amazing!" Your mom exclaimed before asking. "Georgie said she told him to meet up with you here. Did he?"

"No," you answered quickly. You never lied to your parents, which is probably why they accepted your response so easily. You don't look back at them and continue to look at the passing trees. "Must've been busy."

A/N: yeah... and there you go! here's what happened that night in the pub and hopefully it makes me much more clear why reader still holds something against jamie! we're going back to the present day timeline for the next one so stay tuned!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[eyes-of-rock]

Love Again

Bruce Kulick X Rockstar OC

Chapter One

Plot: Ren was once a guitar icon in the late 80s, but now it's 1992. Her heart and band broke, and now she's a shell of her former self. Her sister thinks Bruce might be the man to help her get her spark back, so with the help of her fiance, Eric, they devise a plan to get them together.

Bruce’s POV

“Thanks for letting me borrow your car, baby.” Alexandra, Eric’s girlfriend, thanks him by kissing him.

I looked over at the wrong moment. Of course, I'm happy for him; he has a less-than-great dating history and deserves it. She’s also his fiance, so of course they will do that. It's just that you don't want to see your buddy making out with someone.

She’s here with her teenage sister, who looks unimpressed to be in the room with an old rock band. She keeps rolling her eyes and pulling annoyed faces. I guess some things never change, and teenagers is one of them.

“Can we go now?” She asks once Alexandra stops kissing Eric.

“Yes, we're going,” Alexandra says, annoyed at her attitude, as they disappear out the door.

I turn my attention back to my guitar and the rehearsal at hand. The tour is in a couple of weeks, and we've been rehearsing like crazy to ensure everything is tight.

“You guys are coming to the party, right?” Eric asks me, Gene and Paul.

The party is his engagement party. It’s wild to think that soon, I’ll be the only one in KISS who's not married. Gene isn't legally married, but he might as well be. He has two kids with Shannon. Paul recently got married, and now Eric. That leaves me. I did almost get married once, but that never worked out.

“We’re all coming,” Paul speaks for all of us.

“Doesn’t she have like six sisters? Gene asks, looking at Eric.

“Yup,” Eric says, “and they all live together; for now, once we get married, Alexandra is going to live with me.”

“That house must be something else,” Paul comments.

“It’s a mansion. Her sister, who's three years older than her, is Ren Blix. She was the guitarist of the band Savage Seduction.” Eric informs us all.

Many years ago, on my first tour with KISS, we went on a tour with them. I remember thinking Ren was a very talented guitar player. They took off during that tour and went on to headline arenas worldwide, having a few hit songs that got to number one. Then they disappeared. I haven't heard anything about them since then.

“Oh yeah, I remember her.” Gene pipes up, “It’s a small world.”

“I wonder what ever happened to them?” Paul ponders, “I haven't heard anything about them in years.”

“I have no idea.” Eric shrugs, “The party is at the house, so you could always ask Ren.”

“I might.” Paul shrugs, “Now, let's get back to rehearsals.

——————————————————

Ren’s POV

It's wild to think my sister is getting married to a member of KISS. I remember back in 1984 when I toured with them as the opening act. That was the tour where Savage Seduction took off. The tour where we got our first number-one song and album. That tour holds a special place in my heart.

During the tour after that, we headed to the arenas with our opening act. The way it would be for the rest of our careers until the band's bitter end. I wish he hadn't ended how it ended.

It still hurts. Jayce was my first love and musical companion since we were thirteen. We built a whole life together, and I thought we'd never lose that. How stupid I was. We were kids in love who thought nothing would change that. Of course, time and fame change everything.

Hindsight is 50/50. You should never start a band with your boyfriend. I know that. I just thought, hey, it will be different for us. We’ve known each other since we were thirteen; nothing can tear us apart, but time and fame will find a way.

We drifted apart, but we kept holding on like idiots. We didn't want to ruin the band we worked so hard to create. We might have been able to save it if we just let go, but we didn't.

He cheated on me. He cheated on me a lot. Then, it was published in a tabloid magazine to rub salt into the wound. He published it. He fucking humiliated me like that. He exposed his unfaithfulness to the world and made me look like an idiot. The band ended because we couldn't be in the same room anymore.

I’m happy for my sister. I am. Eric seems like a good guy. Then again, so did Jace; we know how that turned out. I still want to stay optimistic about my sister even if I'm overly loved. That's why I'm throwing her this engagement party.

I look into the living room and spot my youngest sister, Cassidy, who’s thirteen, yapping someone's ear off. She loves to talk and will talk about anything with anyone. Tonight, her victim seems to be Bruce Kulick.

He's the guitar player of KISS. If I remember correctly, my tour with them was his first. I've met him before, but that tour was hectic, so we didn't interact much.

He's politely listening to her Yap. Which is nice of him, but I feel bad for the guy. He's getting yapped at by a thirteen-year-old girl about god knows what.

“Oh hey, Ren!” She greets me enthusiastically. “She’s also a guitarist.”

“I know; I've seen her play before,” Bruce replies politely with a small smile.

“We toured together before,” I tell Cassidy.

“Oh, cool!” She says excitedly.

“Cass, come here. I have got to show you something!” My sixteen-year-old sister, Jade, comes running into the room.

“Okay!” Cassidy says, “Nice talking to you! Bye!”

“Bye.” Bruce laughs as she disappears with our sister to see who knows what.

“I’m sorry about her.” I apologize, “She loves to talk.”

“It's fine; she's a nice kid,” Bruce says, waving it off.

“I was just admiring that guitar.”

He points to my Ibanez costume. The one with my matt dark purple finish and fuck off written on the back with sparkly black paint.

I have one on my living room wall as decoration and the other in my guitar room. The one on the wall has never actually been played. It's just a backup in case the other one gets stolen. The other guitar has seen many gigs, though. I played it almost exclusively for years.

It's displayed in the living room, face down the back is what's being shown to the world and the fuck off.

“Thanks.” I smile, “You had some nice ones, too; I love the radioactive one. Your guitar work on Crazy Nights is great.”

“Thanks, that means a lot is coming from you.” He smiles, “I still have that guitar.”

“I’m a guitar hoarder, so I still have all of mine.” I laugh, “I can show you more if you want.”

“I always love looking at guitars.” He tells me.

“Me too.” I laugh, “That’s just a guitarist thing, I think.”

“I think you’re right.” Bruce agrees as I lead him to my guitar room.

I must admit it's nice to talk guitars with someone again. I haven't done that in two years and never realized how much I miss it.

——————————————————

Alexandra’s POV

It’s been about two years since I've seen my sister engaged in conversation with anyone who isn't in our family ever since Jace broke her heart and destroyed her life in the process.

She’s pretty much been a shut-in. Which I hate seeing. She used to be much different. She lost her spark. For the first time in forever, I see that spark again in her eyes when she’s talking to Bruce.

Bruce has always been a nice guy. From the moment I met him, he's been nice to me. He's also a guitar player, just like her. Maybe he's precisely what Ren needs to get out of this slump.

The cheating is the straw that broke the camel's back, but in my opinion, Jace never treated her right. He was talking down to her, but she never saw that. It pissed all of us off.

She deserves better, and maybe Bruce is that better. How do I pull this off, though? I know Ren, and she's never going to take my suggestions.

“Eric?” I ask my lovely fiance.

“Yes?” He replies.

“Is Bruce single?”

“Yup, he almost got married once, but it didn't work out.” He tells me, “Why?”

“I was thinking of maybe getting Ren and him together,” I suggest.

“That's not a bad idea.” Eric agrees with me. “But how are we going to make that happen?”

“Leave it to me,” I tell him; I have just the plan.

[aurumacadicus]

My friends, we're taking November off to catch up/relax, and then for December, we'll be reading a cozy classic! The top three on this poll will then go on to be voted on in our Discord. If you'd like to joy in, feel free to send me a message! The book summaries are underneath the cut!

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

A novel of manners about the romantic pas de deux between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, two perfectly suited lovers who, at first, find each other insufferable. Despite Elizabeth’s disdain for Darcy, fate seems determined to keep throwing this pair together: and Darcy, almost in spite of himself, will make revelations that will end up causing Elizabeth to question everything she believes. Set in a time when marrying well was a woman’s only way to assure a secure and comfortable future, Pride and Prejudice is arguably the forerunner of all romantic comedies and certainly one of the best-loved novels of all time.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again…

The novel begins in Monte Carlo, where our heroine is swept off her feet by the dashing widower Maxim de Winter and his sudden proposal of marriage. Orphaned and working as a lady’s maid, she can barely believe her luck. It is only when they arrive at his massive country estate that she realizes how large the shadow his late wife will cast over their lives—presenting her with a lingering evil that threatens to destroy their marriage from beyond the grave.

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Other Tales by Robert Louis Stevenson

Stevenson’s short novel, published in 1886, became an instant classic. It was a Gothic horror that originated in a feverish nightmare, whose hallucinatory setting in the murky back streets of London gripped a nation mesmerized by crime and violence. The respectable doctor’s mysterious relationship with his disreputable associate is finally reveals in one of the most original and thrilling endings in English literature.

In addition to Jekyll and Hyde, this edition also includes a number of short stories and essays written by Stevenson in the 1880s, minor masterpieces of fiction and comment: ‘The Body Snatcher,’ ‘Markheim,’ and ‘Olalla’ feature grave-robbing, a sinister double, and degeneracy, while ‘A Chapter on Dreams’ and ‘A Gossip on Romance’ discuss artistic creation and the 'romance’ form.

Maurice by E.M. Forster

Maurice is heartbroken over unrequited love, which opened his heart and mind to his own sexual identity. In order to be true to himself, he goes against the grain of society’s often unspoken rules of class, wealth, and politics.

Forster understood that his homage to same-sex love, if published when he completed it in 1914, would probably end his career. Thus, Maurice languished in a drawer for fifty-seven years, the author requesting it to be published only after his death (along with his stories about homosexuality later collected in The Life to Come).

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

In this celebrated work, Wilde forged a devastating portrait on the effects of evil and debauchery on a young aesthete in late-19th-century England. Combining elements of the Gothic horro novel and decadent French fiction, the book centers on a striking premise: As Dorian Gray sinks into a life of crime and gross sensuality, his body retains perfect youth and vigor while his recently painted portrait grows day by day into a hideous record of evil, which he must keep hidden from the world. For over a century, this mesmerizing tale of horror and suspense has enjoyed wide popularity. It ranks as one of Wilde’s most important creations and among the classic achievements of it its kind.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality, they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last—inexorably—into evil.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas

This swashbuckling epic of chivalry, honor, and derring-do, set in France during the 1620’s, is richly populated with romantic heroes, unattainable heroines, kings, queens, cavaliers, and criminals in a whirl of adventure, conspiracy, murder, vengeance, love, scandal, and suspense. Dumas transforms minor historical figures into larger-than-life characters: the Comte d’Artagnan, an impetuous young man in pursuit of glory; the beguilingly evil seductress “Milady”; the powerful and devious Cardinal Richelieu; the weak King Louis XIII and his unhappy queen—and, of course, the three musketeers themselves, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, whose motto “all for one, one for all” has come to epitomize devoted friendship. With a plot that delivers stolen diamonds, masked balls, purloined letters, and, of course, great bouts of swordplay, The Three Musketeers is eternally entertaining.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

2 questions for you about Two of a Kind! They're both boring timeline-y things because my silly visual brain is demanding accurate mental images

How old are Hal and Jack supposed to be? I've been picturing them as sort of late-30s/early-40s but I have no idea if that's accurate

You've mentioned that the story's been in the works since 2007... has the time period of the story shifted at all as you've worked on it? What year is the current draft set in? I went into it imagining it as vaguely present day as I tend to do with most things that don't have a stated time period, but a couple chapters in I was like 'WAIT what if it's supposed to be 2007 and I've been imagining everyone with smartphones????" (that happened once when I was reading a fic from 2004 and it was really embarrassing)

Honestly I quite like how timeless the story feels, like the when doesn't really matter because character drama and rock 'n roll are eternal, but I am nosy and would like to know numbers if you have them in mind X)

ahahahahahaha *hollow laughter* now you're asking XDDDDD Short answer is I don't really know when it's set...

So, when I started writing, it was very definitely set in 2007 and the lads were mid-late 20s (I was in my early 30s at the time). Now...I've been rereading it all and thinking some stuff doesn't quite work if it's set in present day (Hal's CD changer? on the other hand he is not good at technology so he probably doesn't have spotify etc), so I think it probably can't be, but on the other hand maybe they do have smartphones? And the UK music scene is even less suited to bands like theirs than it was back then (it wasn't originally set in the UK, it's morphed out of a fic from another fandom that I was in back then)...the long and short of it is that I don't know exactly when it's set any more, probably about 2010 or so, and Hal and Jack are both late-20s when the story opens, Hal perhaps a year or two older than Jack (this becomes more significant later).

However, the quarantine ficlets rather bugger that up, as they're definitely only set maybe two or three years after the story begins. I'm not entirely sure where the three Pride-set stories fit either side of the quarantine ones, but in my giant Scrivener file I currently have the first Pride, then the quarantine stories, then the second and third Prides, by which time Hal is probably mid-30s and Jack early 30s. (this is a bit weird for me these days as I haven't really written anyone so young in ages XD I mean, quite aside from all the ancient Tolkien Elves, almost all my AUs are the bi widower dads who are comfortably in their 40s at least, with the notable exception of their daughters who are usually late teens/early 20s in those AUs)

Currently it's all a bit handwavey, but if I could ever be arsed to try for publication, which I probably can't (and I don't think a publisher would touch it anyway), I'd probably have to tighten it all up.

If it's any consolation, I've been imagining them with smartphones for a long while now, and Jack says the thought of Hal with a smartphone is utterly fucking hilarious ('like a pig with a gun' is what he said XD ), so I think you can probably mentally set it whenever you like, and just sort of handwave the bits that don't quite fit. :D

aaaaaa, thank you so much for asking, and I'm sorry this was such an imprecise answer! <333333333 I have so much ridiculous lore in my heads for these lads, and I've hardly written any of it up because the 'character sheet' templates in Scrivener just don't lend themselves to my thought process (it also doesn't help that we're dealing with two very unreliable narrators here, both of whom still occasionally have the capacity to completely surprise me), but asks like these absolutely help me unpack it all out of my head :D :D :D so if there's anything else, do feel free to ask away! @lemurious and @pyromaniacbibliophile the same goes for you :D :D :D <333333333 I am just beside myself with glee at having people to flail about them with!

[flieslikeamoron]

For the WIP game: Sleight of Hand is among my very favorite fics. I know it's nearing the end; what about writing it has surprised you, or was the most challenging, or have you loved most?

First of all thank you so much! It's definitely been a long-ass journey (I've been writing it just over a year!) so I really appreciate the folks that have kept reading, and I'm so happy you've been enjoying it.

I think the main thing that surprised me is it's so long. I've written 60-70K stuff before, but this is basically twice as long as anything I've written. It's longer than most published novels! When it took me like 30K to get the first kiss I had the classic "Oh. Oh." moment. But of realizing it was going to be a monster. 

There are a lot of challenging things! The last couple parts (16 and 17) were very scary because there's so much time and emotion invested that has to be paid off. So if those big moments where Eddie breaks or those moments of emotional catharsis don't feel authentic or fall flat then the whole entire fic I just spent a year writing doesn't work and it was all for nothing. (A little extreme, but bad endings do ruin stories! Ask Game of Thrones!) So a lot of the challenge is the mental side of psyching myself out. But it is also a writing challenge because I was trying to do a lot of things! And one challenge I didn't expect was I was so focused on getting through those two parts, when I finished them my brain was like, "Well, we did it. We're done!" And I'm going, "No, but look at all these scenes left in this outline." And my brain was like, "I don't know her." So I had to go away from it for a while and I read some books and stuff. (The Imperial Radch series. I love!) It's been clicking back in again, but that's definitely a challenge when your brain just doesn't have the juice.

But writing challenge-wise, which is probably what you actually meant. Let's see... Some of the things where I had to go through a bunch of versions. The whole thing where Eddie is getting himself to a headspace to try to be all in on this and to be brave. (After running out on Steve while he's sleeping.) So much of it's just him in his head. And then making that turn natural without over explaining tooo much. And actually just Eddie in general. Like having those moments of self-sabotage and fucking up and not turn people off the character. 

And then definitely the phone sex scene, the handcuffs, and the two love confessions. Those all felt high difficulty and took a lot to get them where I wanted them. All the sex in this fic is hitting character beats or relationship beats, but those two scenes in particular the beats are complicated. And the love confessions, you just want it to not feel cheap or unearned and to feel true to these guys. I usually don't do actual love confessions in my fics where people say "I love you." Like they say it in the way they act or they say it like "I know" in Star Wars or whatever. They needed the actual words here, and I think they've earned this moment of saying what they mean by not saying it for so long and being at the brink of the whole relationship being destroyed. But yeah, that was a challenging one. I was writing that scene almost the whole time I was writing the fic. I wrote a very, very early version of the "you're out of my league/no, you're out of mine" thing forever ago, just a few chapters in. And it was way too flippant for what the fic ended up being, but I kept adding to it and writing bits of it as I went. So there was a draft of that scene when I started that chapter, and it still took forever to refine it because the tone's off or this part doesn't work and originally the tattoo reveal part was in the same scene, but then I realized I needed to make it two separate things etc.

What have I loved the most. Well, one thing is talking to people in comments and on here about the boys and the fic and all that! That's really fun. Also two of my favorite parts that I love the most are the phone sex scene and the handcuffs. I'm sure it's at least partly because they were hard to write. What's a better feeling than being challenged and fighting with it and winning! I'm really happy with both of those scenes, and I think they do what I wanted them to do. I like to joke that porn is my art, but I think those two scenes are both examples of why it's not actually a joke. I feel like Jonas fandom elevated my porn writing, but this fic is my masterpiece. LOL this is me writing this fic.

Anyway I also love this version of the characters. And I love it when things come into the fic that weren't in the outline and weren't planned, but are the thing that was missing or that make it work better. There are a bunch of things like that but one of them is Steve drawing on Eddie at the lake (which changed what the tattoo was going to be). It was originally going to be a thing where they go back in the water, and secret underwater touches and stuff of that nature. Which would have been okay, but also would have been worse than what it is. There are people who are really good at super detailed planning and outlining down to every scene beat. And I do need basic outlines for structure and direction myself. But the magic part of writing to me is the part where you find those bits that are better than what you planned. It's frustrating because it usually takes a bunch of tries for me to find them, but I do love those moments of IT'S THIS. Oh, maybe this should have been my answer for stuff that surprised me. Oops. WELL, I HAVE COME FULL CIRCLE I GUESS. 

I don't know if any of that's the stuff you wanted to know. But thank you for asking! Thank you for reading the fic! 

[theleakypen]

Fic Writer Interview Game

Thank you for the tag (almost 2 years ago) @gusu-emilu!

I am tagging literally anybody who sees this and wants to play :D

name: Puck

fandoms: multifandom! although Untamed/MDZS continues to be my main

two-shots: I never understand this question but it looks like it means to rec your own two-chapter fics so here we go: Stories More Beautiful Than Answers (CQL, Mianmian gets to meet Jin Ling post-canon) and Rhûnlanders (I published it as a series of 2 separate fics, but it's basically 1 thing: Songxiao in Middle Earth - Xiao Xingchen is an Elf and Song Zichen is a Man, both from Rhûnland so they're still Asian)

most popular multi-chapter fic: Obviously Yunmeng In-Laws (my and @iamwestiec's CQL modern AU groupchat fic which had bafflingly runaway success) has to be the answer to this. But if we're only going by ones written solely by me, it's But, After All, I Am A Wen (incomplete Wen Qing canon divergence wherein she actually takes and uses the comb Jiang Cheng gave her to commit treason and save her family's lives)

actual worst part of writing: having the fucking brain space to fucking write, fuck. it's been really hard bc i have so many other obligations and they eat my brain so even if i have ideas i can't get them to turn into prose :(

how you choose your titles: in order of likelihood: first, quote from the fic itself; joint second place, something kinda descriptive of the fic or lines from a poem or song

do you outline? not generally. I did outline my multichapter Wen Qing fic bc it's so much more ambitious than anything else i've ever worked on and I occasionally do something resembling in an outline in the doc of my one shots when i know what happens in the sections but don't have the prose yet; it's usually, like, a series of bracketed statements.

ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice? oh god so many lmao. i have an entire channel in my writing discord that is just these ideas. One idea I have is a Songxiao no eye transfer AU because BSSR doesn't open the mountain back up to XXC and how they have to deal with that. Also I have yet to write any Witcher fic but I've been playing Witcher 3 and I really wanna write a Vesemir POV fic that's 5+1 "5 times Geralt sent some random-ass stranger to Kaer Morhen and 1 time he came home" inspired by all the times in Witcher 3 when you can help someone and then be like "Oh yeah you'd be welcome at Kaer Morhen"

spicy tangential opinion: not that spicy but i wish more people would comment, especially on the smaller/less popular fics. i see your kudos! it makes me happy! but i'd love to know your thoughts if you have any!

callouts @ me: none of my self-callouts are writing-related, it's all just - clean your room, go the fuck to sleep, you're not a teenager any more and your body hurts less when you do basic life maintenance tasks. (honestly i'd probably also write better/more if i did basic life maintenance tasks so it counts lol)

best writing traits: Westie once said I'm good at making soft things hurt and I hold that compliment close to my heart <3

[chipstertool]

Gaian Story: Initial Published Prologue (Archive)

Old Title: Memories of a Mother -> New Title: The Lone Witch

Explanation (Author's Notes): For the revised version of the prologue, I've kept in the interaction between the figure and Blair plus extending the scene to a one-sided fight since I thought she would have little strength to defend herself.

By the next scene, I wanted to do an extension towards Celfy, Nox, and Issac + moved their interaction towards the next day since both characters involved would be already tired from what they were doing before and after. The characterization towards Misty is added by the third section due to appearing in the first chapter.

I've also introduced another unnamed character since I had thoughts about this particular character being important towards the MC in some way although I want her to have a connection towards Blair's family through mysterious means.

There may be scenes that are excluded from the revised version like the Sunflower Hills aspect but I would like to go back when the time comes as contextual clues surrounding Sonia!

[Spoilers Below!]

[Years Ago - Deep Woods Forest]

        Footsteps sprint across the silent night as a young witch travels for coverage within the thick trees. "Damn it. She almost got me with that. If it was any deeper, it'll might leave me dead." uttered Blair as she attempts to heed on the movements and sounds of a figure whose been trailing her.

        "Where did you go? Can we at least communicate with each other?" Her words were soothing and convincing yet Blair decided not to come out since it would mean defeat and potential death. 

        Few minutes passed as the mysterious figure begins to head away from her direction; Blair relives at the thought of not being able to cross paths with her, had she did, it would've been silence. With enough time on her hands, she made haste towards the opposite direction, nothing was on her mind than to get out of the figure's range as soon as possible. Everything seem to become effortless in her chosen strategy yet there was something slowly looming over her, the luminous figure hovering towards her direction. In the moment of desperation, Blair shifts between the thick trees as a semi-diversion as an attempt on making the figure lose her tracks. 

        With one turn after another, her feet kept running without stopping until the limit upon Blair's muscles began to strain her and with her short huffs, unfortunately halts on her hands and knees.

        "Tired already? I never thought that a witch like you would run like a helpless deer." the figure remarked. Already down and tired, Blair tries to power her staff with lightning yet couldn't muster up the strength and stamina.

        "Oh, that's a new one. I was curious if you had the same ability as your predecessors but it turns out it might've skip a generation." continued the figure. She pulls out an materialized spear-like weapon and adjusts it towards Blair's direction, "It seems this bloodline is going to be cut short, too bad it had to end on someone who isn't a challenge."

        The moment the figure was about to end it all, a swift thin arrow marked the shoulder, making her wince in pain before she could take it out, another one targets her ankle; the pain seemed too much as the arrows were tipped with some kind of sleeping effect. The figure became drowsy, injured, and slightly immobile, she made her retreat in a hurry as her body started to feel heavy. With her gone, the two individuals began to show themselves from the shadows, "It seems that worked like a charm." said the redheaded elf as she lowered her crossbow. The second individual rushed towards the low twin-tailed girl to check on her, "It looks like she's worn out with some small scratches." the scarf-wearing human announced, "Let's take her to the clinic in Ravenhill since we're close to the town!"

[Minutes Later - Ravenhill Clinic]

        A dazed Blair was lying on a bed while facing a florescent light while the human and elf were sitting next to her. Both pondered on the situation beforehand as things felt a bit tense between the figure and the witch.

        "That girl...she looked so calm about taking a life.." said the raven-haired boy.         

        "Whatever the case is Nox, it didn't look good. Even though the tipped arrows affected her, we still have to be cautious about her potential return." replied the elf. A small groan can be heard from the bed as the young witch slightly gets up, "How did I get here?" thought Blair, "My head feels so blurry."

        "Hey, are you alright?" Nox questioned. Blair slightly jumped at the sight of two people in front of her as she was alone in the forest, "Y-yes. I'm alright. Question is, who are you?" Unsure of herself, she didn't know if they were friendly faces or suspicious faces.

        "Name's Nox and this is Celfy!" he clarified.

        "You're enthusiasm is showing Nox. Are you that eager on introducing yourself in front of someone, especially a girl, you don't even know?" Celfy snarked. The duo began to conflict one another on the subject while Blair was staring at them and chuckled at the moment. 

        "How long did a moment like this happen?" she thought to herself, only to find the duo looking back at her, "Sorry, it's just that it's been so long did I ever get to experience moments like these. You see, I made myself isolated from everything else because of my background and my heritage." Her words rang true as her family made their identities a secret for the longest time.

        "I see, if that's the case then me and Nox will respect your decision" reassured Celfy. In that moment, a toned masculine figure with a mechanical arm began to appear near the door, "What's all the sentiment I sense? I didn't expect Celfy of all people to be this way!"

        Celfy pulled a strained face and turns away, "Maybe you shouldn't poke into conversations that aren't meant for you, Isaac!" "I came all this way after searching high and low in that dark forest and yet I am greeted with resentment. I am truly hurt by your sharp words, lady elf." Isaac responded in a wounded manner. The amount of liveliness coming from the room was enough to make Blair smile and wished that she could have this a little longer but it might end for her part.

        "I should really leave, it must be getting late and all of you might have something important to do." Just when she's about to get up, a slight pain begins to appear and Celfy decides to stop her, "You might as well relax while you can since that encounter you had probably made your body weak."

        "Also, if you trying to leave just because it'll be a burden on all of us then you might want to stick with us for the time being." Nox added. 

        With all the reassuring lines Blair heard was all too "warm" for her as she is conflicted on wanting to stay with them while also keeping herself in isolation although the thought about being able to live in sociable environment that she doesn't have to fear about that figure getting in the way was a precious thought. That thought began to run through her mind and started to tear up, eyes watering from the realization that she may not be alone anymore. A gentle smile appeared on her face.

[Days later - Sun (Sunflower) Plains]

        Blair had recovered from the clinic after her confrontation with the figure, even after her recovery, she thought the figure would rebound yet she did not. Accompanied by Nox, Celfy, and Isaac, she felt safe in their presence as traveling with them in and out let out a pleasant feeling, no more isolated, no more loneliness. Surprising enough, she was able to enrolled in an academy of all things. The headmaster was a strange fellow yet he was kind enough to allow her in his institute, spending her time with the people she met on that day gave her so much joy with each passing moment.

        Sitting on the semi-dry grass, she recollects her thoughts on her life before, her family's heritage, what happened decades ago, and that figure. All of these things have a significance and Blair wondered what had even occurred to get to this point in her family although she heard someone coming.

        "You're that worried huh? You know, it's alright to come out Nox." With that, he appears with a surprised look on his face.

        "Alright, you caught me but I wouldn't say worried. It's more like making sure you don't get caught by some strange entity," Nox answered.

        After the encounter with the figure and Blair, Nox was intrigued by the event as there were many questions to think about although there was one feeling he hasn't able to shake out, his interest towards the witch herself. Whenever he get close to her, all he feels is a slight burning on his face and loud thumping in his heart, making it troublesome to approach her. "You're doing that thing again." "Wha…what do you mean?" "You face, it's getting red." "Oh...that...it's just the sun beaming on me" He attempted to brush it off yet Blair can see through it, she glares at him, "I know you're lying." Nox, silently frightened at the sight of her expression, she notices and turns away for a moment, hiding her face with her hands, "Ack! Sorry! It tends to pass on with each family member." 

        Both looking away and feelings of embarrassment lingered, Nox decides the ease the tension by giving her a smile and a pat on the head. Blair, feeling his hand on top of her head and viewing his calm smile, turned her cheeks into a rose-tinted hue.

        "You know...you're right, I am lying. The reason is that my insides get a bit tense whenever I'm near you." Nox admitted.

        "So you take an interest towards me or is it because you have feelings for me?" Blair acknowledged nonchalantly. With a slight dumbfounded pause on his face, he didn't how to respond, "I...I didn't think you're the one to be straightforward..." She chuckled at the thought of someone having a romantic interest yet it was another pleasant feeling.

        "So, if I was not this shy girl because of how I appear to be, would you still like me?" she asked playfully. With Nox stammering his words, Blair also takes an interest towards him as both of them seem to enjoy each other's company, making the relation between the two a one to remember. 

[Years later]

        As the bells ring from above, a bride and groom were surrounded by colleagues and friends alike. Celfy and Isaac, most notably, being the best man and right hand woman at the wedding as they were once a group and now have different aspirations and goals with Issac being a husband and leading in his family's footsteps in industrial engineering while Celfy was working at a secretary and adviser to the current headmaster of Gearlock Academy. 

        With purple orchids as a gift from Nox from before, it's no wonder Blair would add them onto her snow white dress as to her, it's special between her and him. On the other hand, Nox thought that orchids fit perfectly on Blair since it sometimes symbolize charm, strength, and elegance to which made him think of her. From range of interactions they had from the academy with Blair's playful teasing to Nox's genuine bashfulness, it made their relationship more closer than before.

[Nine Months Later]

        After the semi-pains of labor and contractions, a young baby girl was born. The loud cries turned into soft coos as Blair gently places her finger on her warm cheek, soothing her in her arms. Nox, right beside her, looked at them lovingly as leaned closer to hug his wife and daughter with his arms. 

        Sonia Briarwood is a peculiar child indeed, she would see something that neither Blair nor Nox could see, she would coo and giggle at the sight of something nonexistent even so she plays with them with her toys. As time passes, whenever Nox and Blair would tend to ask her who is there beside her, she draws a picture with her and the friend that visits her the most: a woman who wear purple, has purple hair, and has flowers on her. It was a typical childish drawing to an extent but it was endearing for the both of them. 

        There were so many things that Blair may not understand about her daughter's behavior although it did made her laugh and smile throughout her life that she concluded it to be a regular imagination. By the time she was about five, she declared her imaginary friend decided to leave for some reason yet this same friend brought a new one that would become her frequent sitter: a young Soulbringer named Misty Silverstein. Nox was surprised by this reveal since he has never seen a Soulbringer in his lifetime yet Blair was not fazed by her appearance, both of them welcomed their daughter's new friend with open arms. Misty would pay them back by assisting them with various tasks in and out of the house and even helping Nox out within his pharmacy that is a part of the residence.  

        A few years has passed within the Blakemore residence as things were lively, one event was surprise however due to a letter detailing about an expedition on a forgotten village within the Celestial Region. The one who was mentioned in the letter was none other than Nox as he specialized in medicine and polearms or spears. The rest of the family were eager yet scared at the many possibilities of what ruins can bring; Nox decided to reassure them that the team itself is capable of handling anything that would cause them trouble. Blair gave it some thought until she made up her mind on letting him go to that expedition. Although, she couldn't help that feeling on the region as it reminded her of a certain individual.

[Weeks Later - Blakemore Residence]

Dear Sonia and Blair,

I'm at the exhibition site with a couple of people I know. Remember when I told you the team were investigating on some ruins from decades ago? It turns out that these ruins belong to a group from the Celestial region yet it seems like there is some writing that details about the happenings of this specific area. 

Luckily enough, our team has a translator who studied linguistics in the anthropology field since one of the languages was an ancient language that only a Celestial would know. There were also murals on the cracked walls that paint a visual image of what these ruins represent. It seems like this is about its rise and fall of this particular community. I'm not sure what it means as a whole although it does leave some clues of what happened to this group long ago. 

What we've got when we arrived to the region was that there have been books about past civilizations in Celestial history told by the locals but they also informed us about ruins that were left behind due to a unspoken rule that ancient areas should be known towards future generations to acknowledge. I hope that this exhibition goes smoothly and that I get see you two when I get back.

Sincerely,

Your Dearest Father and Husband

        A few weeks had passed since that day, Blair began to feel lightheaded at the thought of Nox being possibly targeted from a certain someone as she had that feeling in the bottom of her gut that girl would try to do something out of Blair's control. She wanted feel grief if this was possible, even then, she has a daughter to take care of. She wanted to feel strong, mentally and physically, for Sonia yet these despairing thoughts came rushing through, making it impossible to hold it in. Just when she was about to reach her breaking point, Isaac knocked on the door.

        Opening the door, she's greeted by a warm smile, "Long time coming Blair." She didn't want him to see her in a state like this so she created a façade to make it seem that she's alright, "Long time no see Isaac. Sonia, Uncle Isaac is here!" Hearing tiny footsteps rushing through the hallway, Sonia makes her way to jump onto Isaac, "Uncle Isaac is here!", she giggled. Seeing her daughter's face smiling as bright as ever was enough to put her at ease, "Uncle, uncle! I'm going to go outside with Misty to look for something unusual!" she announced gleefully, "I'll be back to show you what I can find!" Sonia marches outside with Misty, who was right behind Isaac for the longest time, and the two of them walked together.

        The clock begins to echo throughout the house filled with silence until a voice made its first breath. "Blair, I know something is messing with you" Isaac remarked on her facial language, seeing a strained smile. "Ah, so you saw right through me. Sit with me if you please." Minutes passed as the duo sat down in the dining room where there was an awkward silence in the air, Blair was having trouble on what say on her mind yet Isaac asked a question, "Is it about Nox?"

"Yes, it is. Ever since this letter, I haven't heard from him for about six weeks since that expedition to the village ruins." she answered, "It was supposed to be at least one and a half week but I'm wondering if something happened that caused this to happen."

        She reminisces on the time she was supportive on Nox's decision to go on an expedition for the first time since both of them wanted their daughter to be amused at the adventurous side of Gaia and hopefully encounter the wonderous aspects of the world with people she could partner with in the long run. Now, unsure of herself, Isaac decides to reassure her in some way or form, "If it's Nox then he would have figured out a way to get out of a troublesome situation. Listen, I'm sure that whatever it is, he won't back down that easily, just you wa-" A hard knock with a muffled voice was calling.

        Misty opened the door with her spare key that was entrusted by Blair and Sonia rushing towards the grownups and gave them a bouquet of purple orchids, "Mama, look what I found. It's those strange flowers that dad gave you!"

        Amazed and bewildered at the sight of purple orchids in this area, she asked her daughter, "Where did you find these?" "Weird story, I saw a huge figure that look really scary at first but when I tried to move forward, it left something behind while running away from me." Blair taken in by the mere sight of these rare flowers could mean one thing: Nox was still out there, somewhere in the world and that brought her into silent tears. Misty and Isaac also smiled at the thought of Nox being alive being a possibility and Sonia hugged her mother and told her that there is someone out there who might be watching over him, making sure that he gets home safely. 

[zyrafowe-sny]

Jagodzianka's 2023 ao3 wrapped [writers edition]

click here for the original post by floydsin!

and here's my 2022 wrapped

How many words have you written this year? I've posted 33,388, and I kinda wish I didn't include 55 of them.

How many works did you publish this year? 31, though many were 100 word drabbles/drabble sequences (23 had less than 1000 words)

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? I am going to cheat a little. I'm proud that I was a Whumptober completionist and posted at least one drabble a day every day in October. It actually cost me one or two subscribers, but it is what it is.

What work of yours has the most hits? arm-upgrading is a love language

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? It's not my most kudosed fic, but I was a little surprised my Chickadee drabble beat out other drabbles of mine.

Favorite title you used LuLuRoe is my underappreciated punny title (combo of Lilith's nickname Lulu and the MLM LuLaRoe)

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? Umm...all unique, I'm afraid. We've got an old nursery rhyme (ashes, ashes, we all fall down), a scout song inspired by a 19th century poem (a circle's round), Green Day (is the cop or am I the one that's really dangerous), and OK Go (while our bone's keep looking back (this will be the one moment that matters)).

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Ballister/Ambrosius, mostly movieverse

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Also Ballister/Ambrosius

What work was the quickest to write? Probably one of my many drabbles or smubbles, though it's highly variable how long drabble editing takes. Other than that — arm-upgrading is a love language was remarkably quick to write (for me).

What work took you the longest to write? Well, I started Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future in December 2022, put it on the backburner for many months, and made enough progress in November/December that I finally have the first chapter up. The first chapter of phantom limb pain has been in the works almost since late July/early August but wasn't posted until November (some interruptions when sick/busy but was never truly on the backburner even when I wasn't adding words).

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? Ahahaha. Unclear how many I will actually work on, but we're into double digits.

What’s your longest work of the year? LuLuRoe at 4,853 words

What’s your shortest work of the year? I posted 11 fics that were 100 words exactly.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Many! phantom limb pain (and 1 or 2 one shots in the series), Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, The Tragic Tale(s) of Jody Scab, my unposted Prince Ballister AU, years from the land of the bird, and others.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Drabble. Yeah, that checks out.

Your favorite character to write this year? Ack. Um. Maybe Luz Noceda? Though Vee and Camila are both up there.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Flapjack in an unposted WIP

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Possibly Aladarius as a new-to-me pairing to write.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? Probably Intervention.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? I got 1,383 on fics I posted this year — less than last year, but I wrote more niche stuff for less active fandoms.

Which work has the most comments? Party Like It's 2007 because of a long thread with theprincessofdenial. After that, arm-upgrading is a love language.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Nope

Did you write any gifts this year? Yes! I wrote Hush Little Baby (Owlbeast) as part of the Fic Exchange Coven. LuLuRoe and The Tragic Tale(s) of Jody Scab were both written for theprincessofdenial.

Did you receive any gifts this year? Yes! Sugar Cubes from theprincessofdenial and First Step to Friendship from AnimationAdventures (organizer of the Fic Exchange Coven event!)

What’s your most common category? Gen my (still) beloved despite the unexpected Goldenheart plot bunnies

What do you listen to while writing? mostly the chaos of my household

Favorite work you wrote this year? Intervention is definitely high up there. Luz and Vee are both very dear to me, and I intended to write this missing scene from Blood Brother for months before I actually did. I poured a lot of myself into Luz — particularly my experience with executive dysfunction and depression —and didn't even realize it until I read some lovely comments. phantom limb pain is still a WIP, but I am proud of what I have so far and am proud that I am pushing myself out of my comfort zone of one shots. It took me months to post that first chapter — needed to be sure I was dropping enough breadcrumbs for future plot points and a rough go with COVID slowed me down significantly — but it's actually up and roughly twice as long as I expected. The second chapter still needs a lot of work, but I am chipping away at it.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? One of my favorites is this one from is the cop or am I the one that's really dangerous: Ambrosius says, "Because I love you," and Ballister's (aching, concussed) brain tries to comprehend love without trust, love with reservation, love that takes the twisted words of others over the bone-deep knowledge that comes from a shared life. I've been enjoying the "[Character] says, '[X],' and [Y]" construction. Adjectives in parentheses are also part of my brand, and of course we have the good old rule of three with the repetition of "love."

Biggest surprise while writing this year? I really, really wasn't expecting multiple multi-chapter WIPs, but here we are. I also wasn't expecting to write much shippy fic after writing mostly-gen last year (the smubbles were an even bigger surprise).

[deepperplexity]

Oh I love all of this! I'd like to add a few things as well that may help and some are a bit in contrast to other tips above - as we're all different I figure I can add some of my little quirks and habits when writing long fics ^^

I always figure out the ending first - how will it end? What am I working towards? Where do I want the characters to be when it's all said and done? Then I write to get to that point.

While writing, as said above you can add details later and focus on the bones of the story, but if you're like me I'd say go as deep as you want with the details. If you love writing descriptions then go nuts with it! Fanfiction is a pure labour of love, so love it and allow yourself to really pour your heart out in every manner you want (you can always edit later, adding or subtracting)

Go back and read what you've written if you get stuck, not always to find what to write next but to grasp that passion you have for your work anew. Sometimes it's not the imagination faltering but your energy for your work if you write about something for a long time. Read and enjoy to get that spark back if it happens.

I set days where I want to publish chapters, some might not want that pressure but I find that set times/goals are super motivating for me - it gives that push and it helps readers stay invested as well. If you're always publishing a chapter every Thursday then the readers will know that and your interactions may increase and, for me, comments always gives me a huge boost in creativity, energi and general happiness.

Don't delete. If you write a chapter and it's just not working, set it aside but don't delete it - you may be able to repurpose it for a later time in the fic and then half the work is done already on that chapter which can boost your sense of accomplishment to get a chapter done super fast. Same with scenes in general. Don't delete, move it to another document for possible later use.

"Long fics are a marathon, not a sprint." Yeah, hmm, that statement is only half true for me so someone else might be in the same situation. Yes, a long fic is a marathon, but each chapter is a sprint for me so working each chapter as a sprint allows me to not get too daunted by the fact I'm doing a marathon over months (years) and helps me remember each chapter needs to do something for the story as a whole, moving the plot and characters forward (if purple prose is your thing go for it though).

What if the length wasn't planned? If you start writing a short fic only to discover you could and would like to go deeper and further, just do it! Even if it's daunting you can always end almost anything within a chapter or two if you don't want to write it all out after a while. Don't put pressure on yourself to finish, just write what's in your heart and if you're suddenly out of energy, creativity or joy about the fic etc. then either pause it however long you need or just end it - a sudden accident, a plan gone utterly wrong (just remember to change your tags if you're publishing while you write and possibly warn your readers if so).

Hope this entire post helps someone find the courage and will to write that long fic they've been thinking about!

Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?

I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.

Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.

Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"

A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.

The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.

As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.

When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.

Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.

[uselessbard1031]

Updates, Fanfiction, and Sylvia Plath...

“If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.” -- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I have a finishing problem. There, I've done the first step. I have a problem of getting down a path, getting close to the next step of that path, and going 'wait oops what if I want this other thing instead?' I do not know why I do this, but I do. Example A is the almost completed final chapter of Burnout sitting in google drive beside the two and a half chapter yet unpublished BG3 fanfic that leapfrogged over my thirteen chapter vampire novel that was only started when I had two scenes left of my detective novel.

The point is, I'm neurotic, lol. But I don't want to be.

This New Year, which I am starting right now because New Year's resolutions hardly last statistically, but which I am still calling a New Year's resolution for the simple matter of it sounds more motivating than a goal or a decision, I am going to try to finish my writing projects. Nope. Goals are supposed to be worded in definites. I will finish my writing projects (barring that I don't for one reason or another).

I'm putting my mind to it. Starting with Burnout. It's almost done and I just have to put my ass in a chair and finish it. Something I didn't do today in favor of writing something completely different that I may not even ever publish. But I'll do it. And soon, to prove I can and because you all deserve it for sticking with me this far haha.

If you've read to the end of this little update, then I will reward you with a little tease of my Baulder's Gate fanfiction. Will it ever be published? Maybe. Not sure. Depends if I even finish it. No, bad bard, you will finish it because you will be finishing things from now on. But currently it's just a hobby work. Still, I hope this little bit of chapter one makes you laugh or grin. It's set as the protagonist, Carmilla Kane (A Dungeons and Dragons OC of mine) chats with the quasit that Jekyll and Hydes her soul:

"Avernus is a cruel place. With it's crimson sky and craggy juts of volcanic rock it is what most people first imagine when they think of the hells. Volcanoes constantly flooding with lava illuminate the corpses and broken weapons of a constant battlefield and every breath of air assaults your nose with the smell of iron and blood from the river Styx. Clouds of ash lay heavy over the landscape, often bursting into spontaneous fireballs that mar both devil and demon. This may be a land of lawful evil, but this hellscape knows no alliance. The frontline of an eternal war, it's not a place many would choose to call home. But who here has a choice?

Boo! Boo! Uzuh Shabarra! First Carmilla fucks a devil and now Carmilla goes to work meeting for a devil! Shame! Shame!

"Good morning to you too, Dice," I mumble, still not sure how crazy it makes me to be talking to the demon voice in my head.

Boo! Boo! Boo! No fun! Let's skip the meeting. Let's kill something -- oo! Oo! Let's go tell Ardorach that Humusi is fucking an imp.

"But she's not."

But it would be so funny!

"Dice, we have to play by their rules, remember?"

Boo! Boo! Rules are boring! Carmilla is boring! 

"I--"

Boo! Boooo!

He's only going to get louder. It's through a chorus of boos that I make my way to the Basalt Citadel. By the time I arrive I feel twenty brain cells lighter and about twenty seconds from snapping. 

"Dice?" I say sweetly.

Uzuh shabarra! Carmilla shabarra!

"You're about to be ug if you don't quiet down." I pause. No response. Good. "Look, your life and mine both depend on Zariel's mood. If she starts to think we're unstable, my soul will be drop kicked Hades and you'll be stuck in the abyss again. So we have to behave, alright? At least for the council. After that, I'll take you down to Nebo's where you can reap as much chaos as this body can take. Alright? Deal?"

…Ngae amagi ibashen. Fineeee. 

"Good. Now keep quiet. I can't listen to the devils if you're shouting in my head."

Hehe!

"Dice," I scold.

Ugh! 

I wait. One. Two. Three seconds of silence proves his ceded temper so I head inside."

Abyssal Translations (Sumerian):

Uzuh Shabarra -- Unclean Bastard.

Shabarra -- Bastard

Ug -- Dead

Ngae amagi ibashen -- I crave freedom

[famiconblogs]

Time Loop Stories: As The Sun Sets…

FULL STORY SPOILERS

Near the top of my list of being one of the hardest types of narratives to execute tastefully, time loop stories are among my favourite pieces of fiction. It's a difficult structure of story to maintain from start to finish, having to uphold an increasing rate of tension throughout its duration. Over the course of my reading journey, there have been few that have caught my eye. The ones that did still stick with me to this day; they're unforgettable. It's a high barrier of entry that my brain imposes on these types of stories, but any candidates that pass through are immediately stored in my long-term memory for their ability to strike wonder and awe even years after my initial contact with them. The first instalment in this series will be focused on one chapter that I'd encountered in a short story collection this year titled "The Bad Candy You Give Me" (Kimi no Kureru Mazui Ame) by Fuyumushi Kaiko published in 2019. The mangaka had stuck out to me for her distinctly unique use of magical realism, combining her characters' fears and dread with otherworldly depictions of the supernatural and the impossible.

The specific story that I want to spotlight is titled "Sets in the West" (Nishi ni Shizumu). Coming in at only 14 pages, Fuyumushi keeps it short and extremely sweet. These types of time loop stories benefit the most from concise storytelling, where most I've seen never stray for too long.

Nishi ni Shizumu: Opening pages

The story begins with a woman rising from a bathtub, eyes wide in fear as she peers over to her right to see another woman who looks exactly like her staring back. Both are stunned and lock eye contact. The doppelganger is frozen and seems to have been opening a carton of chemicals. Upon reanimation, the woman goes to immediately choke her doppelganger until she no longer breathes, recovering her clothes. She narrates her emotions, describing a deeply murderous intent that had seemingly popped out of nowhere.

"I don't need two of me. It's a natural law."

"Like how the sun rises in the east and sets in the west."

Now burdened with a corpse, our unnamed character goes outside the bathroom and confirms with herself that it's her room and house. But something is bugging her.

"Why did that [me] give up?"

Too sleepy to contemplate further, the woman falls asleep and sees a river of bodies, all replicas of her. She soon wakes from her brief nightmare and goes to dispose of the doppelganger's dead body with the chemicals. However, a familiar scene arises.

"I remembered my last moments. Us rising in the east and setting in the west will repeat once again."

The story ends with a beautiful shot of sun rays that are illustrated to create an image of them radiating off the woman's back, both figures frozen in time, doomed to repeat everything once again. The same cruel fate awaits both of them, or however many of 'them' there may be.

One of the main captivating points of the story was the revelation of the intention behind the story's title. It's used to perfectly describe a time loop, and is incredibly tasteful. We're introduced to the image of the sun rising and falling from the title page, and are later reminded of its presence at the very end. Even during the story, the woman mentions how her murderous intent stemmed from a desire to adhere to the laws of nature, that being that only one of her should be existing at a time. It's a primal feeling that seems like it came out of nowhere, but is strangely justified in such an otherworldly scenario. The intense and dead-focused facial expressions of her as she chokes her doppelganger really gives you a sense of how deep this emotion runs. It's almost as if it's powering her entire existence, her mind deeming this clone as a threat to her own life. It's such a contrast to the bewildered and helpless expression of the victim, even more effective after the switch occurs.

At the midpoint of the narrative, once the 'original' woman had choked out her copy, she falls asleep and has a brief dream. Although only a page long, it serves the purpose of hinting at the existence of a time loop, an important element for me because it keeps the momentum and mystery running high. The initial murderous intent she felt was replaced by a strong fear, a quick switch in tone as we read on in confusion.

And last but not least, the re-enactment of the initial bathtub awakening scene opens our eyes to Fuyumushi's master storytelling. It all comes full circle in a shocking fashion, how time loop stories should be. I don't have any deep or critical interpretations of the story and any potential messages it may have. For this one, I prefer to bask in the endless awe it brings me every time my mind revisits it. Personally, breaking it down and trying to derive some form of meaning from it dampens my enjoyment of the story, so I choose not to. Sometimes I prefer this approach of consuming stories, especially those that are non-linear, surreal and clearly intend to leave the reader confused and in wonder. All in all, Fuyumushi has been one of my greatest discoveries of 2023. "Sets in the West" is only one story out of twelve that she offers, every single one of them masterpieces in their own right. It isn't an exaggeration when I say some of her short stories are the best I've ever read, not even just from the medium of manga. I really hope that one day, her works will be officially published in English. Until then, I'll continue wishing for it as long as the sun rises in the east, and sets in the west.

Thanks for reading!