#but this might actually get me to write the first fic I’ve written in almost a year

[theladyjojogrant]

Someone please stop me from writing a Gallifrey/Mistborn crossover fic

[puckinghischier]

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

[blakbonnet]

[graphic by @ofmdlovelyletters]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK @xoxoemynn

I've loved featuring some of the most incredible artists in the fandom for the AOTWs, and thanks to Connie's (@spirker) big brain, this week is dedicated to some of the most beloved fandom authors. I hope everyone will go and check out their fics, maybe discover some new works or give extra love to older beloved fics. There will be 3 authors featured this weekend, please give it up 🥁 for the first one: Emy who we all love.

When I think of an author whose writing feels like a warm, lovingly prepared bowl of soup by someone who wants you to eat and eat well: I think of Em's fics. It's impossible to imagine this fandom without her - not just her words but everything she is and does for her friends. I also strongarmed her into answering a few questions for me (kidding, she was very gracious, I kept harassing her to send the answers over 😌 I have no shame):

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

First comes the idea, which usually presents itself as “haha, wouldn’t it be funny/weird/wild if XYZ… wait a minute. I think I might be serious about that.” Once I’m pretty confident I’m actually going to write the story, I make a channel for it in the private Discord I created to keep myself organized. I’ll start jotting ideas down — doesn’t have to be in any particular order, just tone, beats I want to hit, any particular detail that’s pushing its way to the surface that’s demanding the story be told, and also grab any links, images, music, whatever, and stash them away for inspo later. I almost always have to create an outline for myself, even if it’s just a few bullet points, because otherwise I tend to just sit there spinning my wheels. If it’s a longer story, I’ll create a pretty fleshed out outline, and may also supplement it with an emotions matrix to keep track of the characters’ evolving mindset throughout the story. Tragically, I’m very much someone who needs to write in order. I’ve tried skipping around before, but inevitably I start feeling the tension of “well, how can I possibly write Scene 10 if I don’t know exactly what happened in Scene 5?” But if there are some scenes that feel more vivid to me in the brainstorming phase, I may write a few sentences just so I don’t lose that energy.

One Ed/Stede headcanon that's very dear to you and you love to explore it when you write.

I don’t know if I have one specific one. I generally treat them as my all you can eat buffet and like to play with different ones all the time, depending on my mood. But I’d say my “tell,” if you will, is taking some kind of ridiculous concept (being horny for clocks, running a sleepaway camp for singles, tooth fairies) and sussing out the Big Emotions, which often do circle around learning to be vulnerable in front of the one you love.

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

When I first started writing OFMD fic after S1, I would have said Ed. There was something about that vulnerability and raw heartbreak that I found really accessible, perhaps because I was finally coming out of the fog of my own recent traumatic breakup. But as I spent more time writing and in the characters’ heads, I realized it’s actually Stede. I see a lot of myself in him, and have discovered getting his voice right is a rather cyclical process: the more I understand him, the more I understand myself, and the more I understand myself, the more I understand him.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

I’m going to cheat and list two. The first is The Merry Strays of Lighthouse Sanctuary, which is my heart story. It’s not the first thing I wrote for this fandom, but it feels like it. I wanted to write a fic with a setting that felt to all the characters the way so many of us felt about the show itself — a place of hope, where everyone is loved and accepted and celebrated for exactly who they are. The second, which is definitely a harder sell due to the subject matter, is All Of These Lines Across My Face, which is the most personal thing I’ve ever written that I think has taken on a new, more meta meaning since the cancellation. Love is eternal; it changes everything it touches for the better. Ed and Stede’s world was forever changed because they loved each other; our world was forever changed because we loved OFMD.

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

Exquisite. But it’s NOT MY FAULT. They ARE exquisite!!! What am I supposed to do, just call them pretty? They are EXQUISITE!

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

YES! My beloved Hugo (@monksofthescrew/offsammich), who I’ve been working with since Merry Strays. I used to say I’d only use a beta if there was something I was particularly worried about in the story, but honestly Hugo makes everything I write SO much better that I don’t consider a story complete until her eyes are on it. Brainstorming the initial idea, helping me get unstuck in writing, pushing me to look at a scene from a different perspective, fixing all my verb tenses… truly could not do it without her.

Why OFMD?🥹

I found OFMD at a very transitional point in my life, when I finally started to feel healed from a few big traumatic events but didn’t know what to do now that I’d emerged from the fog. I experienced some panic that I had wasted too much time and the world had moved on without me while I was still struggling. OFMD showed me that it’s never too late, that you can always have a second (or third, or 300th) chance, that you deserve to be loved for exactly who you are, and, most importantly, that there’s always hope. It was like someone gently took my hand and said “I don’t care what your brain/society is telling you, there is a beautiful future in store for you, and you deserve all that it brings you.” These days it’s rare to find something with a message like that, that’s equal parts fierce and earnest. It’s something beautiful and precious, and I’ll be holding onto it forever. ❤️

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters and send your love for Emy and all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[ugotcooneycrossed]

you belong with me (i belong with you)

alessia russo x reader

w/c: ~700

moments of lessi and her girl (you) through the years

a/n: ive been lurking in the woso tags and thought id get back into writing😗 also, please bare with me- i have not written in a long time 😭 and im used to writing chapter fics, not one shots, but i hope i did this justice!

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

17.

Alessia is 17 when she realises she’s in love.

She can tell because no one’s ever made her feel the way that you do.

Ella’s the first to know- because she’s Ella.

“Tooney you don’t understand-like I’m actually in love.”

A voice cuts in and Alessia is momentarily taken away from her phone- not hearing Tooney’s reply.

“Oooh with who?”

You grin at her cheekily, cheeks still flushed from practice- Alessia admires the way your eyes sparkle softly- she takes the time, eyes tracing every inch of your face.

“Less?”

You look even cuter now- eyes scrunched, looking at her like she just grew another head.

“Uh- no one! Don’t worry about it!”

“Okay weirdo… wanna go get ice cream with me?”

You grip her arms suddenly, squeezing softly, eyes pleading.

“Please Lessi?”

All Alessia can manage is a nod, before you shoot off again- linking your arms together and Alessia thinks she can die right now.

“So what flavour were you thinking, I’m think-“

“I think I’m in love with you!”

“Oh- I don’t think I’ve tried that before.”

Alessia punches you in the arm and you pout at her rubbing your arm softly.

“Less, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years now."

-

18.

“GO LESSI!”

Alessia looks to the side where you sit, decked out in all the UNC gear you’ve stolen from her, every time you visit.

“THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!”

Her teammates send her teasing smiles, and make fun of her lovesick face but all she can focus on is the way, you almost fall off the bench you decided to stand on to get a better view.

“IM OKAY!”

-

19.

It’s the last night of the U-20s world cup.

You’re asleep in Lessi’s arms, and she watches your chest rise and fall softly.

It’s a soft and tender moment that is interrupted by fake gagging.

“You don’t have to stare that hard Less, I’m sure she’s not going to disappear.”

“Shut it Tooney.”

“Seriously Less, it’s sickening to watch- oh I love you- no I love you more- no I love you more- no-“

Alessia is fairly certain she’s never thrown a pillow so hard before.

“Whatever Tooney, I swear I’m going to marry her one day and it’s just going to be worse for you.”

Tooney lets out a loud groan, that earns her another pillow to the face. “Shhhh, you’ll wake her.”

-

20.

It’s Alessia’s 20th birthday. 

There’s a warmth in your chest as you look at your Less, though it might just be the shots you took with her earlier.

She’s stunning- she always is.

It’s much later in the night when you get a moment alone- you brush her hair that sticks to her forehead from sweat back, no doubt from when Tooney dragged her onto the dance floor hours ago.

She smiles a little dopey at you, her natural clumsiness combined with the alcohol have her falling into you every three seconds.

“I loooovee you! I love you sooo much!”

You smile at her as you catch her once again.

“I love you too Lessi.”

-

21.

It’s late in the night.

You sit with Alessia cuddled protectively into your side- a movie plays in the background, long forgotten as you stare at each other.

“Marry me?”

“Okay.”

With that you go back to the movie- fingers intertwined.

-

22.

It’s a quiet wedding- you both didn’t want anything too crazy. 

It’s hours after the ceremony has ended, after saying farewell to family and friends, loading a very drunk Ella off on Mary, do you finally get a moment alone with your wife.

“I’m so grateful you’re mine. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

-

23.

“You still like me right?”

Alessia pouts at you- bundle under an endless amount of blankets, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold she’s still fighting, she coughs again, this time right in your face, and you fight the urge to say no.

“Of course, I do pretty girl- in sickness and health, right?”

-

24.

“Happy anniversary baby! I’ve loved you since I was 15- we’ve been married for only two years, and have known each other for 10, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life- it feels like I’ve loved you for just as long too. So, I can safely say; you belong with me, and I belong with you.”

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Six

Paul and Linda: walk in. Me: Panics in bisexual

He’s so weird. He’s been carrying her purse, gives it back, then tries to change his mind again and the look she gives him. ‘You’re very cute, but I can carry my shit.’ 

But the “Linda’s a cameraman.” Rare Paul feminism moment. Slow clap.

And then instantly, “I’d better go and put in some piano practice.” You fucking addict. Linda, what are you getting yourself into, girly?

“Actually, we’re going on a farm in Scotland.” “I’d love to find a . . . a farm.” I wonder at what point he showed it to her. So far, they’ve done the dirty weekend in LA, Christmas in Liverpool and Portugal, a stay in New York, and now London. Have they done the Mull of Kintyre at this point? Oh, boy. Today might be the Paul and Linda show for me, folks :/

Why does she look like a loving mom watching her daughter’s dance audition? 

Paul taking Mal’s advice on “Standing” VS “Waiting” 

“I feel the most relaxed around Ring.” Linda/Paul/Ringo threesome fic when?

Ringo again with the EXCELLENT taste in jackets. That blue is So pretty. With the black velvet collar. Immaculate. 

“There’s enough obstacles without putting them in the song” is the most Paul quote ever. It’s like his artistic mission statement. The surface read of Paul’s songs is that they’re just these weightless, meaningless, pretty nothings. But the real read (part of) is that they’re meant as comforters, bolsterers, flashlights, and silver linings. 

He does love a good pair of hands, doesn’t he?

He really is showing off for her, though, here. When Linda hasn’t been here, has Paul ever just sat down at the piano and run through all his new songs? Not even close. And it’s so immature and so lovely.

“It was like a comedy, when I heard it.” Proceeds to sing some of the most heavy, blue lyrics. The above comment on Paul’s music notwithstanding, I must admit there are also extreme levels of emotional repression going on. 

“Castle of the King of the Birds”!!!!!!! First of all, who is the "king of the birds" if not Paul McCartney? It’s so extremely beautiful. Achingly so. When I fist heard it, I was like “where have I heard that before?” and when Peter Jackson pointed out that it’s the Top Gun theme? How many songs out there are actually Paul McCartney’s illegitimate children? Like, be Lennon/McCartney with me, for a minute here, and translate this sexual metaphor into musical terms. Paul just jerks it a bit, and before he can even finish, about ten people are pregnant from a drop of his precum and ten magical star children are born who he has no idea of. Does that make any kind of sense at all to anyone?

Honestly love the political version of get back. And clearly so does Yoko. That’s the most I’ve seen her get into a song they’ve written, like, ever. Hey, guys. I have an idea. Maybe you should ask the actual immigrant for ideas on your pro-immigration song. Just a thought. 

 When you’re trying to flirt with your new GF but your ex keeps making you giggle

A vignette of Lennon/McCartney’s writing process. Paul: trying to make up some lyrics. John: makes a joke lyric. Paul: puts it in and it works better than what he had. John: 

John: I’ll be taking me shirt off. Paul: definitely not picturing it at all

Okay but my hot take is that the first two verses at least of “Came in through the bathroom window” are a diss track at Jane. Seriously though, it’s got to be one of my many underrated favs to come out of these sessions. Also, they’re so in love doing this one, my heart can’t take it. 

“This isn’t daddy’s tea, is it?” And Yoko just, without skipping a beat, says, “No.” Girl, I know he’s the one calling you mommy in bed, don’t lie. 

It’s the mutual caring of it all, you know? How he’s sitting in her lap while playing with her hair. How he makes her laugh and she buries her face in his tummy. Gosh, she’s gonna love that tummy for almost thirty years. And while the breakup is heartbreaking, isn’t that lovely to think about? 

George, you should’ve made a Bob Dylan cover album. He sounds sooo pretty. 

Ah, yes. The “Just Let it Be, love. He’s not going to leave you.” Dream Song. Which John does not look enthusiastic about. And then it becomes “Well, you said he wouldn’t leave me, mama. But, you know, he went and did it.”

Peter Jackson, WHERE is that Linda/Yoko dish session audio, you absolute monster! Those are Not small-talk faces. Would I rather listen to what they’ve got to say than hear one of the twentieth century’s greatest masterpieces come to be? Yes. Yes, I would.

[kindlingkeen]

do you have any good fic recs? i've just finished reading all of your fics (AMAZING btw i LOVE competent jason and you write him sooo well) and obviously you have good taste so i thought i might as well ask (i will say that i don't really do ship fics tho)

thank you! looking forward to what you have in store for jason and the batfam next!

First, thank you for the ask! And I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying my fics!! 😊 I’m on vacation this week and finally writing again (had a bit of a rough writer’s block patch). So hopefully I’ll be posting more content in the next couple of weeks.

Fic recs - boy do I ever. I will say, I have super varied tastes in fics, I’ll read just about anything Gen that’s Jason-centric, plus a few Jason ships (although I’m pretty picky about what actually makes it into my bookmarks). All of the fics I’m rec’ing below are Gen, although some might have flavors of a relationship (likely JayRoy since that’s my preferred pairing). I tried to pick a selection of different styles and tropes, so hopefully you find something you like. Almost all these authors have multiple fics I’ve loved, so look at their other works on ao3 for more great reading (you may need to be logged into ao3 to see some of them). Enjoy!

Fic recs

Glow in the Dark Stars by essspressso (stylesmakethefight) 

This is a time travel fic that made me bawl ugly tears, like seriously bawl. Read if in need of a good cry.

The Cold Like Coming Home by cabezas_de_vaca 

An interesting one-shot of Jason and Bruce finding their way back to each other.

More Chances Than Deserved 'Verse by Skalidra  @skalidra

A series that starts out post batarang, Jason does not rejoin the family.

Gotham CPS by ebjameston 

Not sure how to even describe this one, it’s pure hilarity told by an outsider POV.

Nests and Cages by LanternWisp, Lysical @lanternwisp

A series detailing Jason’s journey back to the family. The last installment of the series has probably the best reconciliation discussion between Jason and Bruce re: Bruce taking on another Robin that I’ve ever read.

Buy One Get One Free by Here_we_go

A series that starts with catatonic Jason. I love how Jason is written in this one so so much (especially the main first part), and there’s a short segment later in the series with Talia that’s lovely.

fever by r_astra  @heyy-its-skip

One-shot. Quality batdad in the context of a sick fic

nightmares and daydreams by r_astra @heyy-its-skip

One-shot. Beware, there’s some heavy duty torture in this one. Jason & Tim isn’t usually my thing, but I really like their brief interaction in this one.

all the small weights by sparkycap

One-shot. More quality batdad, this time in the context of fear toxin

a (cat)astrophe in the making by mikkal

Part of a loosely connected series, if I’m remembering correctly. I’m a firm believer that Jason Todd needs a cat.

Red Hood by envysparkler @envysparkler

An amazing Jason rejoins the family, classic fix it, set early in Lost Days continuity. Envysparkler’s works are pretty much solely responsible for getting me into the Batfam. This fic in particular motivated me to start writing TPWC.

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies @batbirdies

De-aging fic, this isn’t my favorite trope, but of what’s out there, I like the dynamics in this one.

Things We Only Talk About After Dark by BabblingBookends

One-shot. More good batdad, but not fluffy like the other two above. I really like how Bruce is written in this one, how he struggles with the unknown.

Kidnapped! by Cerusee @cerusee

One-shot set in Jason’s Robin days. One of my favorites for father and son feels.

A MOMENT THAT'S HELD IN YOUR ARMS. by orpheusaki

More baby Robin Jay and good dad Bruce.

White Lighters / Afterglow by lurkinglurkerwholurks @lurkinglurkerwholurks

One-shot. Another one that legitimately made me cry.

Druthers by d_aia @e-alexandrescu

A really creative, not-your-typical-take on Jason rejoining the family. Sniper Jason is so frelling cool.

I linked the tumblr’s for the authors I know of. If you have any to add, leave them in the comments and I’ll update!

[gaybananabread]

♡~A Mother Always Knows⁠~⁠♡

~I’ve been reading a ton of sad books recently, so I needed something fluffy to get myself back together. So, here’s a completely self-indulgent fic I felt needed to exist. Fair warning, I haven’t seriously written in a few weeks, so this might suck. If you’re still here, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Miles

Ler: Rio

Summary: Miles’s job as Spider-Man has been weighing heavier on him, and school and the Spider-Verse isn't helping. Rio notices almost instantly, and while she may not know what's causing her baby to feel so stuck, she knows exactly how to give him a little boost.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

THIS IS NOT A SHIP! IT'S A MOTHER LOVING HER SON! DON'T BE WEIRD!

Groaning, Miles keysmashed on his laptop, trying and failing to generate ideas. He’d done everything: rewarding writing websites, the Comic Sans trick, drinking electrolyte-heavy beverages. Nothing was working.

His English teacher had assigned another essay, and he was completely stuck. Miles was an artist, not a writer; the creative essay assignments loved to kick his ass. That, coupled with the actual routine kicking of his ass from villains, left him all sorts of stressed out.

Deciding he needed a break from staring at the white screen, Miles got up and went to the kitchen. He had all weekend to complete the creative essay; unfortunately for him, that was prime villain attack time. He had barely gotten to sit down and work for a cumulative of two hours.

Rio had been noticing her son’s off behavior for almost the entire year he’d been Spider-Man. It was negligible at first: forgotten assignments, baggy eyes, messy appearances. Those were typical for teenagers going into High School.

So, when she saw him stumble into the kitchen while favoring his left side, her mama bear instincts kicked in.

Over time, however, it had progressed to very noticeable, very worrisome changes. While she hadn’t confronted Miles yet, Rio was definitely not oblivious.

After all, a mother always knows.

“Miles, siéntate ahora.” Her voice was loving, but undoubtedly stern; he’d be smart to listen, and listen he did. Miles sat down at the kitchen table, doing his best not to limp. It wasn’t enough.

Rio set a bowl of Cheez-Itz in front of him before sitting across from him. Miles could feel the heat grow beneath his collar; she was using her Mom Face. For a solid four minutes, she just sat there, watching him as he snacked. Just act natural, just be cool, just eat the damn crackers…

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or are we just gonna sit here?” Yeesh, there was that tone. Miles knew there was zero way of getting out of there without some sort of conversation.

“Just…loaded up, Mami. I’ve got a lot on my plate with Visions, ya know?” He tried to pin it all on school, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t technically a lie; he did have a lot of stress due to assignments, especially his English teacher.

Rio sighed a bit; that was true, sure, but not the entire story. It worried her to see her baby like that, even more so when he wouldn’t let her help. Still, she had to find a way to get him to de-stress, even if she didn’t know the full cause.

“Hmm. Couch,” she ordered, standing and heading to their living room. Sure, it was a short walk, but she could still be mysterious.

Miles knew better than to argue, setting the empty bowl in the sink before joining her. He was stiff, his mind spinning with all sorts of theories and questions. Was she gonna press the issue? Did she know, and was just trying to see how much he would lie to her? Was she gonna ground him indefinitely for not coming clean?

Instead of confirming her son’s fears, Rio just pulled him into a hug by the shoulders. Miles’s eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed, resting his head on his mom’s chest. Man, he was tired…

“I love you, Miles. I know something’s wrong, and I know it’s hard for you to tell me. Just…remember that I’m always here for you, okay?”

Miles felt his heart lift at her words. She…she really loved him. She knew he was lying, but she still loved him. He swallowed a small lump forming in his throat before nodding; he didn’t trust his voice.

Now that she’d gotten him nice and emotional, Rio decided he needed to cheer up a bit. Miles was so stressed and reserved most of the time. She missed the days where his bright, unapologetic smile would light up their home - especially his giggles. How Rio longed to see him happy like that again…

Oh. Lightbulb.

“Thank you, baby. You just seem so sad anymore. Me encantaría verte sonreír de nuevo.” Shifting her hand down Miles’s side, she tried to hide her growing smile. If she wanted to surprise her son, she had to be crafty.

Miles's brain lagged a bit as he translated her words. Smile again? What...why was his spider-sense going off?

"Lucky for you, I think I remember how to fix that," she crooned. Then, in a gentle and teasy way, she started wiggling her fingers into her son's side.

The teen's eyes shot wide open, a giggle slipping out. His mom was...tickling him? It wasn't something they'd done in a while, thanks to his constantly loaded schedule and isolating tendencies. It immediately made him giddy and lit his nerves on fire.

"M-Mahahahahahami! W-Whahahat?!" Miles was shocked, kicking his feet against the couch. How could just a few fingers tickle so much?

"What? It's kinda obvious, Miles. I'm tickling you!" Her other hand joins the fray, pulling her son against her. While Miles was a helluva lot stronger than her, he couldn't risk overdoing it. So, like a true man, he giggled his heart out.

"Dohohon't sahay thahahat! Mohom!" Right as Miles tried to pry her hand off, Rio started to scribble on his belly. His giggles shot up for a moment, turning to adorable belly laughter.

"HEHEHEhehey! C'mohohon!" Two hands was just being mean. Rio was loving all the giggles, and she could feel the tenseness in his shoulders melting away against her. There was no way she could stop at that point.

"Don't say what, papa? Tickle? How about this? Cosquillas cosquillas cosquillas~" Rio quickly whispered the words in his ear, loving the squeak she got in return. Her son was just the cutest, even when he was trying to be all macho.

The teasing fried his brain, leaving him a squirming mess of nonsensical babbling and giggles. The t-word in one language was bad enough, but two? And in his ear? His mom was killing him!

Deciding to be cruel, Rio suddenly jammed both her hands into his underarms. Miles was tired, so she had to hit the sweet spots quickly.

"NAHAHAHA! *snort* MOHOHOHOHOM!" Miles shrieked and thrashed, absolutely losing his shit when his mom targeted his worst spot. Her nails were torturous, far worse than Hobie's lanky fingers or Pav's loving squishes. It shot ticklish lightning zipping across his skin, sending him into near hysterics.

Rio cooed at her son's near manic reaction, giggling as he snorted. Miles was always trying to act tough, but he just couldn't get any cuter.

Miles was sort of exploding inside. He was already tired from patrols, and now he was laughing his ass off; the boy was ready to crash. His mind was a goopy mess of flustered joy and giggles, rendering him unable to speak. Still, he could feel his stress melting away, leaving him in a stupidly happy, ticklish bliss.

Still, it tickled like crazy, and he couldn't last forever.

"MOHOHOHO- *snort* OHOM! IHIHI CAHAHAN'T!" Small tears of mirth pricked at the corners of his eyes as he tapped out. Rio stopped as soon as he said that, moving to pet his hair and rub his shoulder soothingly.

"Te tengo, Miles. Take a breath." She held him close, trying to help him regain his composure.

Miles was still reeling, giggling off the phantom tickles. After that lovely attack, he was completely drained. Thanks to his mother's gentle pets, he was on the verge of passing out right then and there.

"Ohoho crap... Whyhy?" Miles failed to stifle a yawn and rubbed his sides as he asked. His mother chuckled at his attempt before answering. "Because you needed to relax, Miles. You're too stressed anymore."

He rolled his eyes, but she wasn't wrong; he was practically limp against her. "Ihi...yeah, I guess. Still though, that was overkill."

She chuckled and booped his nose, making him grunt. "Maybe a bit. Now, do yourself a favor and take a nap."

Miles begrudgingly closed his eyes, mumbling something about not being a baby anymore. Still, thanks to her gentle head pats and his exhaustion, he was nodding off in seconds.

"Te quiero, Miles. Sleep tight."

Rio couldn't help but smile at the sight. Her son was finally relaxed; she couldn't find a trace of the earlier stress on his face. After he relaxed, she'd work on the essay with him. It might not get far, but they'd struggle together. That was what mattered, especially to her. She kissed the top of his head with a small, happy sigh.

[lost-in-sokovia]

close to my heart, never to part

AN: hey team!! so, it’s quite apparent that i haven’t written anything on here in ages!! tbh since early 2023 it’s been difficult for me to enjoy writing fanfic style and therefore it’s been fucking forever since i’ve done it!! however, i’ve started writing again but in a completely different style of writing, and my friends and even a few of my professors at school have been really supportive and so it’s given me more confidence. so, i wrote this little piece over a span of two nights. it’s not proofread, it all came to me on a whim from a thought that stemmed in the shower one night. as some of you might know, lullabies are incredibly important to me. my parents always sang “you are my sunshine” to me so that’s the one i grew up on, i still listen to lullabies, and giving my babies lullabies is something so important to me. so i was thinking what joel’s lullaby for sarah would be, and i remembered that nico parker was in the live action “dumbo” movie that i actually saw in theaters with my sister when i was younger. so, obviously i had to take that connection and translate it, and this idea hit. so, without further ado, here is something i wrote that im incredibly nervous to post because i haven’t posted an original writing since literally 2022 and i need to do a masterlist cleanse of all my old shit spanning back to when i was like 14/15 whatever and here’s something i wrote for joel miller who i am not an expert on tlou fandom girlies please be gentle with me😭

tw: alcohol consumption, language, angst, pre-/no! breakout joel, sarah is a baaaaby🤍, no use of y/n, this isn’t even an x reader fic😭

(if you want to listen to my favorite rendition of “baby mine” that helped inspire this, here it is!!)

it wasn’t like he was sleeping, anyway.

joel miller was sitting on his couch in the dead of night, slouched over with heavy, glossed over eyes mindlessly staring at whatever the fuck had come on the tv at this point.

it was the first night without his wife, without the mother of his infant daughter.

the austin air was quiet that night, and seemingly all that existed (or didn’t exist, joel was still debating) was joel, his couch, his beer, and his tv.

joel had been slowly nursing a beer all night. just one, he had told himself, because he couldn’t be drunk and alone with his daughter.

however, as the hours passed on, joel had forgotten about the existence of his peacefully sleeping daughter in her nursery, and yet he still held the same amber glass bottle tiredly between his fingers as it rested on his knee.

still in jeans and a t-shirt, joel’s heavy eyelids fluttered open and closed, the obnoxious bright light of the television piercing his pupils when opened and nearly provoking a headache. he was hopelessly fighting the sleep that could take him away from all his problems for a short time. his eyes dry and salty from the tears he’d shed earlier in the night were losing the battle of exhaustion as his head slowly began to fall back against the leather couch.

not even moments later, small hiccuped cries began to erupt from sarah’s nursery. joel jerked awake and looked around through squinting eyes as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair. the cries of his daughter intensified and joel let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

what was he supposed to do? taking care of sarah in the night wasn’t new to him, but doing it alone was.

what if he couldn’t get her to stop?

what if she wanted her mother? that’s a thing babies usually cry for, right?

joel pushed down the fresh set of tears that pricked at his eyelids and forced himself to get up, his stomach churning with dread (and the nausea provoked by drinking a beer after eating almost nothing all day).

it took everything in him to climb the stairs to reach the nursery. his legs dragged with exhaustion and his willpower to take care of whatever the issue was was close to nothing, despite the fact his baby daughter’s cries intensified the longer she was up there alone.

when joel finally reached her nursery, the sound of her cries pounded in his head.

“oh, oh oh,” he cooed as gently as he could, voice gruff with sleep. he carefully lifted sarah out of her crib, bouncing her lightly as he held her to his chest. “why’re we cryin’, babygirl? what’s wrong?”

sarah’s little fists were beside her face that was scrunched unhappily, her mouth stretched wide as she wailed. joel cooed and continued to bounce her, trying to get her to calm down.

he lifted her higher to do a smell-check of her diaper to see if that was the problem. nope, the scent of baby powder still penetrated his nose.

he held a finger in front of her mouth to see if she’d try to suck it, a sign she may be hungry.

nothing, just a bit of spit from her tiny mouth sprayed his finger as she cried.

“sarah, darlin’, work with me here,” joel pleaded helplessly. he walked around in a small circle as he bounced her, looking around her nursery; light blue walls with quilted decor of the alphabet above her crib, sheer curtains patterned with lively little polka dots, a rocking chair, a nightlight, a changing table, a little bookshelf, toys and stuffed animals set nicely in a corner…

each and every piece of furniture and decor laced with memories of sarah’s mom.

joel wasn’t sure how many times he’d made the same circle, and he had gotten used to the sound of sarah’s cries by now. his eyelids were heavy and his head had the dullest ache.

he felt like he could cry too. he was completely drained and at a loss. was this what every night for the next year was going to look like? how the hell was he supposed to raise his daughter right without her mother in the picture? what was he going to do about work? who was going to watch her? who—

joel didn’t realize tears were sliding down his cheeks until sarah let out an absolute guttural cry.

“i’m sorry, babygirl, ‘m sorry…” joel apologized, using his thumb to try and gently wipe the mix of his and her tears off her soft baby cheek. he stared at his daughter in the dark, weakly whispering continued apologies.

he was sorry for letting his tears drop onto her. he was sorry she was crying. he was sorry for however the rest of her life was about to be.

he was sorry he wasn’t her mother.

joel’s last and final resort hit after he had taken a few deep breaths. he remembered singing.

sarah’s mom wasn’t one for full-on singing for her daughter, but joel, who had wanted to be a singer, was. he’d gently lay sarah’s tiny body on top of his blanket-covered guitar and play soft lullabies for her, singing into her little ear. a popular song with her had been “baby mine” from the movie “dumbo.” before sarah was born, joel and her mother had collected as many vhs tapes of movies that she would hopefully enjoy from second-hand sales. among that pile was the movie of the elephant with the big ears, who when flying made sarah laugh and squeal.

joel cleared his throat as quietly as possible, sarah’s cries and whines still persisting.

“baby mine, don’t you cry,” joel began softly, voice a bit scratchy. “baby mine, dry your eyes. rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine.”

cries subsided into little whines.

“little one, when you play…”

little fists unclenched.

“don’t you mind what they say…”

sarah’s tiny tensed body relaxed.

“l-let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine…”

joel cradled her and rocked her slowly back and forth, watching his daughter fall asleep once more. though emotion flooded up in his chest, he knew he couldn’t stop now.

“if they knew sweet little you, they’d end up lovin’ you too… all those same people who scold you, what they’d g-give just for the right to hold you…”

joel wasn’t sure if he could finish. his voice was choked up and more tears slid down his cheeks as he admired his peacefully sleeping daughter, calm just from the sound of her father’s voice.

he took a shaky breath before forcing himself to finish out the song.

“from your head t’your toes, you’re not much, goodness knows—“

with a small crack in his voice, he finished out the rest of the lullaby in a whisper.

“but you’re so precious t’me… cute as can be… baby of mine…”

[unquietspiritao3]

musings on rpf

Been thinking a lot about RPF since the CoC3 outtakes. I think because it’s brought me a very small bit of exposure with people who aren’t familiar with the concept, and I also know from talking to friends that for many of them, Taskmaster is their first RPF fandom.

There are a lot of misconceptions about RPF and people who write it, and there’s both healthy and unhealthy ways to approach it. All this stuff that I, as a Fandom Old and veteran RPF writer, know and take for granted, but that other people may not have worked out yet. So I thought I should write some of it out explicitly, as best I can.

(And, too, part of this is me thinking, What would I want to convey if someone who inspired one of my stories reached out to me for a direct conversation about it? Not that I think that would ever or should ever happen, but it’s hard not to think about when you’ve had an experience like this.)

The biggest misconception is that RPF comes from unhealthy parasocial relationships. (I’m specifying ‘unhealthy’ because there are actually healthy ways to have a parasocial relationship, and nearly everyone has at least one. Other people have written about this in more detail here and here.) I’m not denying that in some cases, this misconception could be true, but by and large, the circle containing the fans who have an unhealthy parasocial relationship with a celebrity and the circle containing the fans who write RPF about said celebrity are a Venn diagram without much overlap. By and large, RPF writers are not delusional. By and large, we are incredibly aware of the difference between the real person and the character we’re writing, and we do not want to violate that real person’s boundaries. (If they want to go to AO3 and read fic titles and summaries—and perhaps more—then that’s their choice, of course.)

Taking myself as an example, I’ve talked here before about how I jumped into writing in the Taskmaster fandom with a very basic knowledge of the comics’ lives off-screen. I don’t feel particularly attached to any of them. I don’t feel like I know them. Even with James Acaster, whom I know the most about (the majority of it learned after I started writing!) and whom I relate to the most, I don’t imagine that we could be ‘friends’ or whatever if we met. In fact, I sometimes suspect I wouldn’t like him much if I knew him in real life. That’s not what this is about.

Another misconception is that all RPF is porn. Okay, yes, almost all of my Taskmaster fic is rated Explicit, and a lot of it is kinky porn. But there is a reason for that, which I’ll get to at the end of this little essay. Also, yes, Taskmaster RPF in general is extremely kinky, but I don’t think anyone can seriously argue that we are projecting that energy onto an entirely sweet, innocent, wholesome show. Anyway, the point is, there’s plenty of non-explicit RPF. Including most of what I wrote before Taskmaster. That’s not what this is about, either.

What is it about, then? For me, ultimately, it’s about the same thing any creative project you make and put out into the world is about. It’s saying, “Here’s something of me. Do you relate to it?”

The celebrity it’s based on only provides a germ of inspiration, taken from something in their public persona which I relate to. To fill out the character, I water that little seed with things from my own life or simply musings on human nature, and then I put that character in a situation I find interesting and see what grows. Keeping the name/likeness/biographical details (to an extent) of the celebrity is simply a shortcut to finding the other people who might relate when I put it out in the world.

You see, my goal for my RPF is not to have the celebrity read it. If they’re going to be bothered by it, I hope they don’t read it. I certainly don’t want anyone sending it to them or anything like that. While it was hilarious for Alex to say what he did, and it’s been a positive experience overall, I never expected or wished for it to happen.

My goal, especially with explicit and kinky porn like ‘A big boy like you’, is to let my readers know, If you see yourself in this, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. And to get that same feedback in return.

[arithmonym]

20 questions for 20 writers!

thanks to @accidentallyadorable for tagging me! this was fun. :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

30! only 20 are visible from my profile, though. my older fics and drabbles are quarantined to a separate account, and a few things are posted anonymously.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

113,190 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

it’s mostly the locked tomb these days. i also have a few old works for the penumbra podcast, the magnus archives, and the adventure zone—and a few even older works for harry potter and percy jackson, but those are on ff.net so i can pretend they don’t exist.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

it’s familiar (but not too familiar) - fluffy griddlehark time travel fic. this was my first attempt at writing them and i could definitely do a better job now, but the prose still holds up.

alive, barely breathing - post-canon griddlehark first time fic that’s fucked-up and sad. sometimes i look at the comments when i want to feel good about my writing. :3

bring your hunger - post-canon griddlehark grief/relationship study. also a WIP. (honestly, this one might go on anon for a bit—it’s vulnerable in ways i don’t want to explain, and i’m shying away from writing the next chapter because the Fear of Being Known got to me a little.)

it’s not unusual - fluffy modern AU where team 69 go to a bar and play catan. palamedes has an oral fixation, because of course he does. this one is campal with background griddlehark getting-together, but i might write a sequel from harrow’s POV someday.

bad idea right? - modern AU chatfic inspired by this post by eskildit. it’s about camilla dealing with the paldulcie situationship™️ & enduring so much dyke drama thanks to the nature of her friend group. it received a podfic recently, which is fun!

(… i also want to write a camdulcie sequel for this one. i’ve been rotating the idea frequently.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

almost always. there are a few scattered comments i haven’t replied to yet, but i like responding! it’s an excuse to drop more lore about the fic and the writing process, IMO.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angiest ending?

the ace cam fic i haven’t finished yet, which will probably be posted on anon. (i feel like people are going to attack me for poor representation or something, but it’s inspired by my own experiences, so. can’t win them all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

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

something sweet is pure, uncomplicated fluff, so i guess i’ll go with that!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really. i’ve blocked a few people for being rude, but i haven’t gotten hate in years.

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

occasionally. i’ve only posted 4 explicit fics, but so far it’s a pretty even mix of f/f, f/m, and other.

10. Do you write crossovers?

i have a tlt/w359 fusion AU i want to pick up again! i need to untangle some threads of the metaplot, though.

(also, the first fic i published on ff.net was a harry potter/rise of the guardians crossover. yes. it was cringe. yes, it’s probably still posted on the internet if you want to find it.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, actually! a few of my old hp fics were translated into spanish or chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i wrote a round-robin fic with the campal server once. i also started co-writing a fic with quinn a while ago (before we both got busy with school) that i’d like to return to at some point, because the concept still makes me vibrate with glee.

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

i’m not sure that i have one, actually? i’m a multishipper to my core.

15. What's one WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have so many WIPs in my google docs that i’ll probably never finish.

i’d like to revisit my fic about necromancers & dysautonomia some day, but my writing style has changed so much since then. i might have to rewrite what i’ve posted.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i’m frequently complimented on my worldbuilding. i’m good at examining the implications of things that other people might not think about, so my plots are original even when i’m writing a fandom trope. (i can’t wait to post my harrow nova AU for this exact reason.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

sigh. pacing. i write from very close POVs, but sometimes i get too far into the character’s head, and it drags the story down. i’m trying to write sharper prose, but i’m going through an awkward growth phase as a writer—i know the structure i want, but it’s a struggle to get there concisely.

also, i over-edit instead of writing new words, which does me no favors.

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

i guess it depends on context? i have a pretty good grasp on code-switching from being bilingual but not quite fluent, but the memory of that one klance fic haunts me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i mentioned my first published fic earlier, but the first fic i wrote was a percy jackson self-insert fic when i was twelve.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

indelible! cam and pal figure out that dulcinea isn’t who she says she is at the fifth’s anniversary party, but it doesn’t change anything. <3

///

tagging @harrowharkwife @friendamedes @cindthia @logicbutton @thewinterstale @sluggydrabbles & anyone else who wants to participate!

[onthewaytosomewhere]

✍️ and firstprince please and thank you!!

okay emily this got a lil bit of angst bleed-over form Ashleigh's fic and well that was not the plan but here we are lolz - but on the plus side yours is the fist done (as i bounce around between them all lolz)

also Morgan this is yours too i doubled up the prompts and went a bit longer lolz @suseagull04

can also be found on ao3 if ya'd rather

“Ugh!” Alex plops onto the couch next to Henry, turning to curl into his side.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Stupid therapy assignment.”

“Oh? What did they assign for you?”

“Journaling.” The silence following Alex’s words tells him that Henry will be another on the list of people who don’t understand his frustration with this assignment.

“Okay, and why is that a bad thing?” Alex sighs and buries his head further into Henry’s shoulder; he just needs a moment to wallow before he has to hear another person tell him it won’t be as bad as he thinks; he’s already heard it from both June and Nora.  Henry runs a hand down his back, and Alex can feel some of the tension from the day being pulled away. He pulls back and sees an actual look of concern; he should have known Henry wouldn’t brush his concerns aside so quickly, but it’s been happening so much of his life.

“I just …” Alex trails off into a sigh, “I’m not a writer, not like you or June. I don’t know what journaling is going to do for me other than give me another thing to feel inferior about.”

“Oh, Alex, journaling isn’t about writing well. It’s about having another way to get out the thoughts in your head. It doesn’t have to be the next Casey McQuiston novel. It just has to help you get things out of your head and find a place to process them. But I happen to know that when you want to, you can write amazing words. I’ve read them when they’ve been written to me.”

“June said something similar to that, but it was a lot harsher and had no mention of our emails.” Alex chuckles.

“Well, she is a big sister. They’re known for their tough love and wanting to avoid discussing their brother’s love lives. Whereas I, the man who loves you, want to support you. Not that June doesn’t want to support you; siblings just do it in a different way.”

Alex does start journaling, and he finds the words come easier than he thought they would—he’s not writing a New York Times Bestseller, but his therapist has told him over and over that what he has is more than enough. Along with making him remind himself that he is enough.

He gets an idea a month in; his writing is coming so easily, and it’s made him realize how much he’s missed writing, especially writing things for Henry. He finds a fancy leather-bound journal and starts writing in it. It doesn’t replace his therapy journal. This one has a different purpose. He writes his thoughts and feelings about and for Henry in the new journal almost daily. He brings them both along to therapy and occasionally reads from the one that’s for Henry. The first time he does so, he asks his therapist as they’re wrapping up what she thinks of the writing in the book for Henry; he wants it to be perfect for him. She, of course, gives him homework to think about why Henry might think it was perfect even if the writing isn’t that of a published manuscript. He does think about it. He thinks about how getting something like it from Henry would feel, giving him another idea.

It's only a matter of weeks before Alex has the journal half-filled, and he’s sitting watching a movie with Henry when he pulls it out of the place he had stashed it. Alex hands it to Henry and watches him look at it, turning it over in his hands.

“This isn’t your therapy journal.”

“No, it’s not. But it definitely happened because of that. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said when I started, about how we used to write to each other. So, I wrote to you. I filled the first half of this journal with things for you—my thoughts about you and my feelings for you. It’s all about you and how I feel about you.” Alex pauses, taking a moment to collect himself, watching Henry still looking at the journal in his hands. If Alex is honest, it’s a little nerve-wracking, but he waits for Henry to process what is in his hands.

Henry looks up at him finally, asking, “Why only half of it?” Henry’s voice is thick with emotion, and Alex wants to pull him into his arms, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t pull Henry into his arms, and he doesn’t run his hands through Henry’s hair, down his back in the way that they both use as a comfort.

Instead, he answers, “I was hoping you might want to take the other half. You can write whatever you want in it, of course. But I was hoping it could be something we could look back at later, a reminder of where we started, one that can’t be taken from us.”

“Oh, Alex.” Henry places the journal on the coffee table and turns to him. Alex is in arms before he’s fully turned to him. He feels the release of tension he didn’t even know he had in his shoulders. Henry kisses his lips, and Alex attempts to deepen the kiss, but Henry pulls away.”I love it, it’s a wonderful idea. More importantly, I love you.”

Alex can feel the moisture pooling in his eyes but smiles through it, “I love you, too.” He can’t wait to read what Henry adds to it.

[spotsandsocks]

🖊️🖊️🖊️🖊️🖊️🖊️

and

😈😈😈😈😈😈

Hello and thanks for inspiring me… only just finished author!Buck but just for you started what will be a smutty little bonus side fic 😉 just writen this so unedited! And demon!eddie too 😍😍😍

The living room has had a makeover. Buck turns in a circle wondering what the hell is going on. The lighting is different, lamps set around the room , glowing softly. He wonders what time Eddie got home from Texas to get all this done.

There’s blankets he’s never seen before draped over the couch. The curtains are closed and, he wanders over to check, yes it’s velvet hanging there now. A long swatch falling to the floor, dark red.

He walks away, back to the centre of the room, the table is gone, in its place is a rug, possibly sheepskin, but probably something fake, on the television is a crackling fake fire.

There’s a low wooden table, moved from the hall he thinks, and it has a jug and two wine glasses, on it, no actually goblets is a better word.

Next to couch is a new and quite large wooden chair, half draped in velvet again and with a velvet cushion on it. It’s all giving an old fashioned, even dare he say it, medieval vibe. The chair is almost saying throne. Suddenly he feels hotter than he did before.

Then Buck notices something else. On top of the cushion on the throne, no chair… is something blue and folded up neatly. There’s an envelope on top of it.

Curious isn’t even close to how he feels right now so he goes to investigate.

The card, because that’s what’s in the envelope says Happy Anniversary on it and inside is an instruction.

Get changed and tell me when you’re done. Don’t take too long. I’ve missed you.

And Some demon!eddie too! I went over sentences because I’m obsessed with this one. @tizniz @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @sunflowerwemadeit I remember you were excited about this one and @daffi-990 cos it’s your title inspiring me

“Lords?”

“Gender neutral term these days.”

“Really?”

Eddie tries not to laugh at the bright glow of interest and the way Buck’s reached for his pencil without thinking. A notebook flips open and it's clear from the way his pencil moves he’s just written a number down. Eddie enjoys his enthusiasm, the way he just likes knowing things. He’s already noticed the wide range of topics covered on Buck’s bookshelves.

He keeps talking so Buck can keep writing, he probably shouldn’t let him record too much but worse case scenario someone might think he’s an author making up ideas for a book.

“So there are two Lords we can rule out, The Empress and The Prince.

“Do they have names?” Buck asks without looking up.

“Yes, Long ones.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Buck looks up from his notebook expectantly. His eyebrows quite plainly say carry on, so with a sigh that Eddie hopes doesn’t sound too indulgent, he does just that, naming the two people he can be completely sure xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Fine, first we have the Empress of Lost Souls and Sinners, Seeker of Lies and Deceit and Holder of The Chalice of Veracity.”

He waits for Buck’s pencil to catch up.

“And you said there was a Prince? Who’s he?”

Who indeed, sometimes Eddie’s not sure himself.

“They call him…” God he hates his full title just as much as ‘the Empress’ does but Buck wants to know so he takes a deep breath, “…. the Prince of Flame and Shadows, Deliverer of Retribution and Unholy Justice, Scurge of the Soulless, Soldier Of Hell and Keeper of the Seven Keys of Forgiveness.”

And sometimes just Eddie, but he doesn’t say that.

It takes Buck longer for him to get to the end of that ridiculous mouthful with his pencil.

“So why not them then?”

[fullofgiggles]

This post/fic is for my best friend, but if you’re not her and you’ve stumbled across this, hello welcome

@switch-writer

over the course of the past few years you have been nothing short of an actual gem in my life. from our daily talks, to our watching of shows, i can’t think of anyone else that i’d rather spend my time with. you are my comfort person, the one i’d go to for anything, and it blows my mind that a community like the tword community was able to bring us together and create such an unbreakable bond between us.

as i’m writing this, it’s been over a year since we met up the first time, and since then, you’ve helped me improve so much. whether that be mentally, emotionally, with my writing, with my confidence, etc- you’ve helped me improve every aspect of my life.

with that being said, since you’ve indulged me so often the past few years by reading whatever i’ve written, and even posting one of my fics for me since i was too scared to do it myself, i felt it was time to repay that. i’ve been a while revising this, screwing up rough drafts, and figuring out characters- all the while trying to not stray too far out of character. so without further ado, i love you so much light switch👹👹 and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. it might be on the shorter end, but still😅

may not be as many twords, but i just kinda wanted to write soft mihawk :))

An unexpected smile, xox, Ghost Princess

Although a calm day on Kuraigana Island, it wasn’t unusual. The warlord sat comfortably on a plush chair, taking his time as he flipped through the pages of the daily news.

What was unusual, however, was the fact that Mihawk hadn’t seen Perona in a solid three hours. It was already half past noon and he hadn’t heard a peep from the pink-haired nuisance. Usually she’d have peeked her head in to pester him or argue with him by now.

Despite that, Mihawk couldn’t really complain. He enjoyed the quiet, and he certainly enjoyed not having someone pester him every five minutes. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he directed his eyes up and away from the newspaper.

Surely he didn’t miss her- No. Definitely not. It was just quiet, something he hadn’t been used to since before Perona had taken refuge in his castle. It was almost sad how Mihawk had felt from the unexpected change in routine.

Wake up, brush teeth, brush hair, get food- And there, sitting across from him at the table, was usually Perona. Every time she opened her mouth to speak or laugh, Mihawk had felt a part of him shrink away as his daily bout of annoyance began. But today was different- Why hadn’t she joined him for breakfast or lunch so far?

Again, it’s not as though he cared at all. However, the thought did cross his mind that he should check on her. And so that was exactly what he did.

Walking through the halls of the castle, the warlord took his time getting to the Ghost Princess’s room. Once he got there, he rapped his hand three times on her door.

“Perona?”

No answer.

He knocked once more.

“Ghost girl? I haven’t heard from you all day.” He spoke, half mumbling his words. He didn’t exactly care, it was just out of the ordinary to not hear her high pitched squawking at this hour of the day.

Despite his knocking and calling of her name, there was still no movement nor noise from the other side of the door. Finally, the warlord huffed and slowly opened the door.

“Are you even in here?”

By looking around the room, he answered his own question. She wasn’t in there. In fact, he wasn’t even sure where she could be, because the chances are that she’d say something if she was headed somewhere.

Mihawk narrowed his eyes in confusion as he thought for a moment. How peculiar. First, he hadn’t heard from Perona by half past noon- She hadn’t showed up for breakfast or lunch. Her high pitched voice wasn’t heard ringing throughout the castle all day. And now she wasn’t even in her room?

The warlord shrugged, closing the door as he began to walk away. She was an adult, she could handle herself. It wasn’t his problem.

As he made his way back towards his chair, Mihawk felt two hands grab his shoulders from behind. Though the feeling was slightly startling, he tried to not let that show.

“You do care! You even came looking for me and everything!”

There was that high pitched voice… The warlord sighed and closed his eyes, his daily bout of annoyance and frustration already beginning.

“I don’t care. It’s just not usual for you to be gone all day. It’s been so pleasantly quiet, I thought I was dreaming.”

“Damn, once an asshat, always an asshat.” The ghost princess sighed as she stepped up next to him. “Then why’d you come looking for me in my room?”

“Like I said- I’m not used to the silence. I was almost beginning to miss my daily frustration upon hearing your dog-whistle of a voice.” The warlord nearly cracked a smirk at that one.

“Okay-! That was incredibly rude! Uncalled for! You absolute negative nelly! Actually- I don’t mind the negativity, keep that up, but still!!” Perona huffed, crossing her arms. “Even I lighten up a bit sometimes- Clearly that’s almost impossible for you.”

“Most likely, yes.” Mihawk spoke, rather unfazed as he made his way back towards his comfy chair.

Perona huffed, straightening up her hat as she floated over to him.

“You’re such a sour old man. Too sour even for me.”

“You’ll live.”

“Seriously! I mean- Put a damn smile on your face every once in a while!”

“No.”

“I- What do you mean ‘no’?! You can’t just say no!”

“I can. I did.”

The ghost princess scrunched up her nose and furrowed her brows in annoyance. The daily arguments between the two finally began, and it was already quarter to one in the afternoon.

“You’re worse than my ghosts! Making everything around you depressed- You’re the worst!”

“Woe is me.” Mihawk sat back down in his chair, beginning to flip through his newspaper once more.

“That’s seriously all you have to say?!”

“Indeed.”

Perona huffed in annoyance as she went silent. Once more, the castle was filled with silence. The only sound being the occasional rustle of a page as Mihawk flipped through his newspaper.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Mihawk saw Perona out of the corner of his eye. She was kneeling down next to him, her eyes glued to the newspaper just as his were.

The warlord paid no mind to it. She could use a bit of smart people entertainment, in his words.

The two sat in silence for a bit… that is, until Mihawk felt two fingers drill into his hips. The ravenette’s breath hitched as he jumped up and looked at Perona.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pink haired one responded, a smirk evident on her face.

“That thing you just did. Why did you touch me?”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not!” Perona giggled, standing up as she floated towards him. “Even still… you really do need to lighten up. Your gloominess really can be a lot sometimes. And that’s coming from me. That’s saying something.”

“I really don’t.” Mihawk responded, though he took a step back as Perona reached her hands for him.

The ghost princess snickered as she lunged for him, skittering his fingers up his sides and ribs, then scribbling back down to his tummy.

The warlord gasped, flinching away as he held back what he presumed to be a giggle… a giggle? That’s preposterous. Practically unheard of. He rarely smiled, let alone laughed.

“Oh, oh! I almost gotcha! Cmon! Smile! I’m literally doing the complete opposite of what my devil fruit does… isn’t that ironic?” Perona laughed, her signature ‘horo horo’ slipping through every now and then.

Mihawk, being the strong person he is, could have easily slipped away. But did he want to?

It was hard to say. He was curious as to what Perona was doing- But perhaps she was right? That thought was rare in and of itself, but still. Maybe he did need to lighten up at times. Shanks had told him that previously as well.

However, his thoughts were cut short as one hand squeezed his hips, and the other skittered up his back. That caught him off guard, and he quickly flinched away with a slight chuckle.

The pink haired one gasped, freezing as she stared up at him.

“Was that-“

“No.”

“Oh, I think it was-“

“It wasn’t. You’re hearing things.”

“Oho… Oh, I got a laugh out of you! I did!! I did! I did! Oh, I’ll never let you live this down!” Perona laughed as she squeezed away at his hips, occasionally a hand would scribble around his tummy or sides.

The warlord yelped, bursting into somewhat uncharacteristically soft laughter. Not mocking laughter, nor fake, but genuine soft laughter. Who knew it was possible for the famous Hawkeye to have such a soft moment?

Mihawk could’ve easily shoved her away as well… but he didn’t. Surely he wasn’t enjoying this… Surely he wasn’t having such a soft moment with such an annoying person-

But he was. He was having a fun moment. One that was a long time coming, and well deserved for that matter. Since he was someone who’s dealt with a lot, he deserved a break- He deserved a chance to smile and laugh.

“WahAHaiT- CuhuHut iHiHit ohOut!” The warlord snorted slightly.

“Holy shit! You just snorted!” Perona giggled, skittering her fingers up his ribs.

“NoHOho IhiHi diHIhiDn’t!”

“You did! Do it again!”

“IhIhI- NoHo!”

The ghost princess snickered, scribbling her fingers across his tummy. Once more, he could’ve pushed her away… he could’ve remained stone cold and blank faced. But he didn’t.

Perona had known that he’d been working hard lately. She’d known that he’s been unusually tired.

And because of that… she’d known that he needed a chance to smile. Perona wasn’t exactly known for her ability to make people laugh and smile… but this would do.

So for the rest of the afternoon, soft giggles and snorts rang out throughout the castle halls. From Mihawk, occasionally Perona, but what mattered was that they were both happy. And more importantly, getting along.

[autisticlancemcclain]

thank u @zenstrike for the tag <333333333 i see ur mic and i'm elated about it

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

185! but i haven't updated in like a week and a half so we're probably closer to 190

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

556,104. i am very excited to watch it jump up when i finally finish my longfic teehee

3. what fandoms do you write for?

literally just voltron lol. well not counting baby me's wattpad lol. i started writing almost two years ago and just went ham basically. i've been intentionally avoiding things that i know i will get hyperfixated on bc i don't want to stop my writing obsession lol

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

ooooou i'm excited to check. i know it's changed quite a bit over time. i usually sort them by hits!

i will grind you to sand (beneath my louboutin heels) [voltron, 2573 words]: bamf lance fic where i give him a revolver and let him go ham basically

mr. snuggles [voltron, 1656 words]: one of my very earliest fics! lance, lover of weirdo animals, finds a demonic cat-sized spider and adopts it despite his friend's freakouts

he might not look like he gets bitches (but honey that dick was eleven inches) [voltron, 1136 words]: this one is so dorky lol but it's just secret relationship klance coming to light in the most embarrassing possible way

does anyone know where the love of god goes (when the waves turn the minutes to hours) [voltron, 4283]: a canon divergence au where lance is a seer and convinces the skeptics on his team of his abilities by ending the war

this is the part of me that you're never gonna ever get away) [voltron, 3262 words]: a lance & shiro hurt/comfort with a small autistic lance character study! i'm very proud of this one

5. do you respond to comments?

i definitely do on tumblr! it's one of the first things i do when i wake up actually. on ao3, though...i'm pretty sure i have about eight hundred unanswered comments sitting in my inbox 💀 it's an ongoing issue

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

i'm almost sure it's this post-game show lance leaving fic, because i got comments and asks for weeks begging me to write a happy ending lol. but this fic from the hana universe, from when keith is little and shiro is fighting for custody and they haven't figured things out yet. that one is sad. this dream pov adashi fic is also sad and has no happy ending bc, you know. shiro is in space and adam thinks he's dead and everything. my loneliest series is also still in progress and as such there is no happy ending. and this is my earliest angsty-ending fic with MCD

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

oh god pretty much everything i write has a happy ending?? if i’m being serious?? frankly i don’t do a lot of linear plot. i just write Scenes that are vaguely connected. BUT my h2o fic had a plot that ended happily, as did my cowboy fic, but truly i’m more of a slice of life kinda gal. all my active wips are plot-driven, though, and i plan for all of them to end happily.

8. do you get hate on fics?

oh god yeah. i get it on brown eyed lance, autistic lance, adhd keith, allura just in general (are you sensing a pattern), my refusal to use readmores, and lately just some demands for me to write differently/more?? most of it is just funny so i post it to goof on it lol, but some of it i just delete and pout about until i forget about it 💀

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes and it’s nasty and i will literally never ever post it. although i guess i’ve written some softer stuff that’s more allusion than anything, like in my loneliest series.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not anymore, but i did when i was a kid?? i think i wrote a pjo/hoo/divergent/the mortal instruments/homestuck/a bunch of other shit fic when i was 13. i’ve successfully blocked that era out of my mind tho so i’m not sure. i do a lot of insane aus, tho. i wrote a fic based off a country song written in the sixties. so.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i’ve had people write continuations of my wips?? which i didn’t rly like. i just ignored it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

someone has asked me about translating a fic before! haven’t heard anything since tho.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have tried. i’m not very good at it. i have very Specific ideas about things and can be very controlling, so it’s honestly better that i don’t lol.

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

klance, easy. been in the trenches of this goddamn fandom since i was 13 years of age. it’s been a Journey.

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

god, the butterfly effect. i get people asking me to update all the time and i genuinely feel bad, because i have absolutely no ideas or plans for it. i might try to come up with an ending of some kind?? but i wrote that like two years ago, so i have changed a LOT about my writing since then.

16. what are your writing strengths?

dialogue and humour, i think. and sometimes writing lack of emotional communication (if that makes sense — i like to try and write around an emotion).

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i over explain a lot. and i overuse dialog ur tags sometimes. i have a Very Specific scene playing out in my head and i want everyone else to see it like i’m seeing it, which is my downfall a lot. i’ve been trying to work on implicit stage directions.

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

i think sometimes it’s necessary? it can be a good tool for humour, like with cussing that can’t be achieved in english. but while i understand and read several languages i have always always struggled to speak or write in them. it’s very frustrating so i often avoid the subject entirely lol.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i’ve been writing fanfic in my head since before i knew what it was, but i started typing things at around 11 when i used to homestuck roleplay with my friends lol. messy messy times.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh i am my own target audience. i have several.

i need a man (who’s patient and kind): keith-centric post canon (divergence) fic where lance takes him to his family and keith is good with kids and just keith being loved is the whole point. always.

what if i lose it all: an alternate universe where lance, as a baby, loses both his parents, and then is raised by his oldest siblings. in luis’ pov.

when does a ripple become a tidal wave (when does the reason become the flame): brogane fight & angst canon divergence post season 6; covering shiro’s guilt complex and keith’s unwavering loyalty

he’s into superstitions (black cats and voodoo dolls): halloween verse with witch lance and vampire keith! i have barely spoken about this au on here but rest assured i’m thinking about it all the fucking time

the applebee’s universe: modern au with young keith and lance learning how to love each other

ceilings (plaster): non-linear dream-like fic that’s just so trippy and strange i’m obsessed with it

if the sky comes falling down (for you) there’s nothing in this world i wouldn’t do: a keith character study about how the biggest bleeding heart in the universe loves

the hana universe: brogane-centric universe as their family starts rocky and grows

thank u again for the tag zen <33 open offer for anyone else who would like to hop on!!

[hxhhasmysoul]

Do you think that… if Gege had took more breaks if even put jjk on hiatus- similarly to how Togashi would take hiatus for hxh- do you think that Gege would have spend the much needed break and rest to give jjk the pacing and proper development that the story needed?

It's not impossible, but I think the issue is more complex than that.

From what I've gathered from one of Gege's recent interviews, their writing process is a bit like mine. The story is less planned and it more evolves. This means that the author is kinda screwed if they can't edit let's say something on page/in chapter/in episode 5 once they've written page/chapter/episode 30 where some concept already mentioned in chapter 5 gets clarified/changed/etc.

If you're writing something that will only be published once completely finished and edited, it doesn't matter what your writing process is. But if you publish stuff in increments, almost instantly after writing it, then well, it's out there.

I have rewritten parts of already published fic chapters and updated them on AO3 without a second thought, because the story I was writing evolved and I wanted something to be different/clearer/mentioned/better set up/etc in an earlier chapter.

Miura, the author of Berserk, rewrote and republished parts of it, because when he started writing Berserk, he didn't really have a proper idea of Guts' backstory and other crucial elements.

The whole thing with Nobara's mum, the New Shadow Style school, earlier the merger and the foreign military invasion or Yuki, and most importantly Yuuji’s family. All of that feels like ideas that clarified/appeared in Gege's mind too late to be properly developed, or like ideas that felt good at the time but then like stopped fitting the vision. Especially when Gege decided to quickly wind down JJK somewhere mid the Culling Games. 

If I remember correctly they also expressed dissatisfaction with how the Culling Games shaped out be. It may be that Gege’d started writing them in the shape they are now because it seemed to them they had a good idea of what to do with them, and then once writing them it turned out the idea was not what they wanted. 

This happens to me all the time, I’ll write myself into a corner. Even in things I’ve written in collaboration with a friend, where we kinda try to brainstorm ideas thoroughly. Until you write something, you really have very little idea what it will feel like to you once written. And what actual shape it will take. I sometimes write a scene and it takes such a fucking turn… And I rehearse scenes in my head several times before I even open the file. And in such a situation, once you read how the scene went, you see that your initial idea for it was lacking. It felt good in broad strokes but once all of it comes together in detail, when you actually have to write all the sentences, only then you actually see how this scene connects to everything. 

I think a few things came together. Health and time crunch is one thing. I’ve written about it before, but the fact that it seems Gege never planned to turn Zero into a full length series and actually pitched something else. Or that JJK was supposed to be cancelled early on and things from much further down the line were moved so that Yuuji’s death at the detention centre would serve as an ending. 

And this combined with the fact that this is Gege’s first long form story. I don’t think they realised how their writing style would affect it. They might have not even imagined what it would be like for them to write a long story like this. 

People often accuse Gege of asspulls, of making shit up as they go along… this is what fucking writing is… you make up shit as you go along. The fact that some long form stories seem very coherent and so on is usually a mix of experience, luck, and either a planning oriented writing style where the writer is actually good at sticking to their plans, and/or the ability to fucking edit to shape.

So like, I think that Gege really discovered a lot about themself with JJK. 

JJK has some really good ideas and characters and masterfully written moments. It has also disappointing moments, meh or underdeveloped ideas and underused or overused characters.

__________

PS. A bit of salt to make myself feel better.

Underused: 

Nobara, Yuki, Hana, Angel, Kenjaku, Uraume, Hakari, Noritoshi, Kaori, Jin, Sukuna, Eso, Kechizu, Chousou even, Toudou, Tengen, Uro, Yorozu, Tsumiki, Higuruma, Inumaki, Shoko, kinda Megumi even, and in the ending even Yuuji. (I’m sure I forgot some)

Overused:

Gojou as a motivator throughout the Culling Games, Gojou in Shinjuku, Yuuta in the Culling Games, Yuuta killing Mother, Yuuta wasting everyone’s time in the fight with Sukuna, Gojou’s carcass so Yuuta again… did I mention Gojou and Yuuta? Oh and Kusakabe… why is he not dead? I’d add here Naoya, but he at least got humiliated 4 times first by Touji, then by Chousou and Yuuta (the fucking only time Yuuta did anything borderline acceptable) and then by Maki twice. Oh and Sukuna, he was overused for fighting, and underused as a character with interesting potential (he ate no one! Unless it's in some unleaked pages.).

[sharkneto]

hi!!!! I was rereading the shifting mirrors and holding it together since you finished joining together recently (it’s SO good, it’s so so SO good, your writing is always so well done and flows so well) and I had a couple questions. Sorry if this is weird - if you don’t want to answer them feel free to ignore this ask, I’m just curious!

1.) did you start writing joining together while you were still posting holding it together? a lot of the details I noticed in HIT were referenced in JT, and I was just kind of like ‘that’s a LOT of details to remember’ so I was wondering if you were working backwards !!

2.) have you ever thought about what happens at the end of HIT? do you think they would actually end up stopping the apocalypse, or would the commission try to come and correct them? I thought that was interesting - that the commission said they were done with five, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re done with the offshoot timeline ; if they hadn’t interfered prior, that would mean they were still on track for an apocalypse, right ? I like to speculate about this. with sheer strength of will I think that five would probably end up stopping it, mostly because he knows how to work through his rage rather than act on impulse again - and now he has the knowledge to try and connect the others so that viktor doesn’t feel so isolated.

3.) what was your favorite part of writing the story / what kept you motivated to keep it going ? I’ve started a couple chaptered fics, and then I get three or four chapters in and lose it completely.

I love, love, love the world youve created - I love the characters youve built and the personalities behind them. the dedication youve held on to to keep the series going is admirable; I can barely write 20k, much less hundreds of thousands of words. I was actually thinking of asking your permission to maybe write an offshoot of your offshoot (it might be the thing that gets me back into writing for tua) but idk if I’d have the imagination or creativity to make it nearly as compelling and fun as yours. Congratulations and great work on finishing it !! <333

this got long - feel free to ignore it if it’s overstepping or weird, lol !! I hope you’re doing well - have a great night, shark :)

Hey Toby! Glad you enjoyed it all so much and thanks for the kind words! It's a little surreal to have it done, JT has been a WIP almost as long as I've been into TUA.

I started writing JT before HIT. This whole series was supposed to be a Just For Me Fun Project while I rotted alone during the pandemic that I ended up sharing with permission from orsumfenix and encouragement from friends. I was a bit into JT, I think, when I started thinking about how fun it would be to get more siblings in here, and those musing became HIT. HIT got posted first because it had a lower barrier for entry, with more focus on the Hargreeves we know instead of OCs. So, because the stories were written more-or-less simultaneously, it was easy to reference one or set up something for the other. Working forwards and backwards, with the end of JT already written (in a rough draft) when I was writing HIT, so I knew where Rob, Sarah, and Number were coming off of at that point. (The tiny detail I'm most fond of is Allison in HIT noting that Number broke his nose at some point, and then in JT we get to see the stupid scenario in which he broke his nose.)

(rest under a readmore because I ramble)

I do have thoughts on what happens after HIT! More of a time jump, to Number's Apocalypse Week, and I've got words in a WIP started about that (and a few snips shared in my snip tag, although some I think I've changed some of the details, now). It goes... less smoothly than it should, for a guy who has (almost) all the details he needs. If motivation continues, I'll share that eventually. If it doesn't, I'll word-vomit an outline so at least people who are interested can know how it goes down. I don't see the Commission coming back - the people obsessed with Five are dead, and the organization is done with him. They don't have the resources to spare to keep going after him, so at least in Five and Number's timelines, they're out of the Commission's scope.

What kept me going was a combo of things. 2020-2022ish, I had a fuckton of time. I only worked three days a week because of covid protocols, I couldn't go anywhere because of covid, and I couldn't see anyone because of covid. I had four days a week to fill, and a lot of that time got filled with writing - all of HIT and the first draft of JT happened during this time, plus all the other fics I published throughout that time. What kept me going is that I was having a ton of fun writing and fun interacting with other people about my fics. Love, love, love talking about them (so never apologize for an ask like this, every fic writer is begging for an excuse to ramble like this). I liked thinking about the characters, thinking about Number doing mundane things I was doing made them more interesting, I liked thinking about Rob and Sarah's little romcom life, and I'm fascinated by Five's whole deal. My favorite part of writing these is Five (both versions of him) - thinking about him and how he'd react to x or y, how others react to him. I love that, at his core, he's kind of a loser. I love what an incredible vehicle for grief he is. He's a character of all time for me.

How to keep going, I don't have an easy answer for it. Some people outline, so they have the skeleton of what they're doing and where they're going. I'm not one of those people, I have an idea of the general shape and trajectory of the story and go from there, splitting up chapters as needed. I think it's important to not force it, or the writer's block gets worse and then you're stressed about writing instead of having fun with it, and that's no good - the point is to have fun. If you run out of steam, you run out of steam and you have to take a six-month hiatus until life calms down and you have words again (as a hypothetical example). Don't be afraid to poke at other ideas even if you have a giant fic unfinished. For having 25 fics on AO3, I have 35 other WIP files on my computer. Some of them have a couple hundred words, some have tens of thousands of words, some of them I'll come back to finish, some of them I won't. Such is life - some ideas have legs, others don't. I don't set out thinking "Oh this fic is going to be 50k words with 10 chapters". I just write until it feels done; sometimes that's 2k words, sometimes it's almost 200k words. The point I'm trying to make, here, is that we're all just fucking around having fun, and words flow easier when I'm remembering that and not stressing about being done or trying to finish for a self-imposed deadline. You've got it :)

Feel free to write in my little world! Would love to see what others are thinking about, what stuck with them. Just give me (and orsumfenix, if you use Number) a shoutout if you share it! And don't sell yourself short - I'm sure you've got great ideas and the chops to write them out. Don't compare yourself to me; you might write in a world I helped shape, but you've got your own voice and style to give it. I, for one (if you end up writing and sharing it), would love to hear your version of it all :)