#had the same thought when I started my new job.....

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader's vacation continues and lines start to blur. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: happy new year to all of you, and sorry for the long wait! I was completely flashed by the love you showed for part 1 (THANK YOU!!!), and wanted to live up to your expectations. I’ll try to write part 3 as quickly as possible! Sorry if there's any typos, I edited this while severely hungover

The afternoon at the beach was relaxing and lighthearted after you agreed with Joel and stopped studying so much, and you find that apart from having a body that makes you clench your thighs together, he’s interesting to talk to. He doesn’t give you the same bullshit about university and acting responsibly, but rather accepts that there are things you dislike about your degree. He doesn’t offer advice on how to learn to enjoy those things, he just nods when you tell him you’ve learnt to deal with them. He treats you like an adult, someone who makes their own informed choices – something your life has been sorely lacking.

You head back to the rooms in comfortable silence, and you enjoy the way Joel’s arm almost grazes yours. When you think about the flutter in your stomach for too long it’s ridiculous, but it’s so easy to leave behind the morals and expectations of home when all you’re facing right now is an all-inclusive dinner and as many cocktails as you want. You aren’t planning on getting drunk if Joel isn’t, but you want to have fun tonight. You haven’t been on a real vacation in ages.

 You take another shower once you’re in your room, wash away the sunscreen and sea salt, until your hair is all soft again and you smell like shampoo. The hotel restaurant isn’t super fancy, but you feel like putting in a little effort, so you pick out a black dress you like, and wear your sandals again. You wonder if you’ll get cold – the days are burning hot, but at night there’s a cool breeze that might make you regret your choice of clothes. Fuck it, you think, you haven’t had an occasion to dress up in ages, and getting Joel all flustered again sure seems like reason enough. You grab your purse, phone and keycard, and head to the door.

Joel opens his door at the same time you do, and you swallow when you see he’s changed outfits, too. His hair is slightly damp and all curly, he’s wearing black jeans and a simple black t-shirt with an unbuttoned, flowy linen shirt over it. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms. It’s stylish. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to look stylish.

"Wow," you say with a smile. "You clean up nice."

Joel just huffs, but his eyes ghost over your dress for a second too long. He doesn’t answer.

When you get to the restaurant, Joel pulls out your chair for you, which earns him a blinding smile. Stylish and a gentleman, who would have thought? Back home he always seemed like a grumpy lumberjack to you, and although you do find him excruciatingly attractive in his flannels, you’re intrigued to find out what else you didn’t know about him.

"Is it really all-inclusive?", you ask, gazing at the menu and not quite believing you can order anything you’d like and not pay for it. 

"Sure. You want a cocktail?"

"If you’ll have one with me?"

Joel holds your gaze, but shakes his head.

"I think I prefer whiskey over that sweet stuff," he says, and you make a face.

"Fine, whiskey it is, then," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You don’t have to drink what I’m drinkin’. Have a cocktail."

This time you’re the one to shake your head.

"It’s no fun, having cocktails on your own. But I haven’t had whiskey in ages, maybe I like it better now."

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.

"Ages, huh? How long have you been allowed to drink again?"

You smile, but don’t dignify his question with an answer, and after a moment Joel chuckles and looks back at the menu.

"Fine, I’ll have a Gin Fizz," he says, looking up again. "You?"

He wants to order a cocktail, just so that you can enjoy having one, too. Your stomach flutters.

"Joel, you don’t have t-"

"I know I don’t. I’m having a Gin Fizz."

There’s a finality to his tone, but his voice is friendly. You give him a reluctant smile, one that isn’t ironic or half-joking. He smiles back, and leans back in his chair, eyes still on yours. You study the menu again, this time having a closer look at the cocktails.

"Sex on the beach," you say seriously, and Joel snorts.

"Clever."

***

You do end up drinking a sex on the beach, and Joel actually enjoys his gin fizz. The food is delicious, Joel lets you try a piece of his steak and you offer him a bite of your fish, but he declines with a disgusted look on his face that makes you grin. No seafood for Joel Miller, then.

Joel orders you another cocktail when the waiter clears your plates, and you smile to yourself. He’s being courteous.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Miller?", you ask, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I think you’re managin’ that without my help."

He’s right, of course – your long day of traveling makes the buzz in your head more prominent, and although you’re nowhere near drunk, your tongue is a little looser than usually, and you find it much easier to hold Joel’s eye-contact.

"I’m glad I came here," you say all of a sudden, the thought fleeting, but true. "I needed a break."

Joel’s smile is honest, when he answers.

"I’m glad you came, too. It’d be boring, bein’ here on my own."

"Right," you say, "who would get you to drink cocktails? You’d be stuck drinking disgusting whiskey and wallowing in your loneliness."

Joel smiles, shaking his head slightly, and takes a sip of his Gin.

"You wanna head down to the beach?", you ask when your glasses are empty and you feel a little woozy from the second cocktail. Joel looks surprised.

"I love the sea at night," you say a little dreamily, voice trailing off.

"Sure. Let’s go," Joel just answers.

The air outside is cool, just like you anticipated, and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep the goosebumps at bay. Joel notices, and immediately shrugs out of his linen shirt, handing it to you. You stare at him.

"Take it," he insists, and you do, the fabric soft in your hands. You slip it on, the sleeves coming down to your fingertips, the collar smelling of Joel’s cologne. You wonder why it took you two cocktails to notice how good he smells. When you’re done rolling up the sleeves, you look up and find Joel watching you quietly. Your eyes meet – he looks away, and starts walking again.

You’re pleasantly tipsy, walking to the beach at night, wearing Joel Miller’s clothes and brushing his arm with yours every once in a while. It feels a little surreal.

"Aren’t you cold now?", you ask after a couple of minutes of quiet.

"No," Joel answers, his voice a little rougher than before, "’sides, you wear it better anyway."

You flush, and when you don’t answer, he looks at you.

"Jesus, sorry," he mumbles. "I didn’t…it slipped out. Just meant you look pretty, is all."

Your stomach swirls pleasantly, and you want Joel to put his arm around your shoulder, or kiss you, or take that shirt off again. You clear your throat.

"Thanks," you answer quietly, toying with the hem of the shirt. "I think you wore it well, too, though. Suits you."

Joel doesn’t answer, but when you glance at him, you notice the ghost of a smile on his face, half-hidden by his patchy beard.

You walk the rest of the way in contemplative silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. You’re always amazed to see the sea at night. The darkness somehow elevates its vastness, water and sky bleeding into each other at the near invisible horizon. It’s easy to forget about your exams here, with the whole expanse of the planet spread out before you, the relentlessly calm sound of the waves, and Joel’s scent in your nose. You sit down on an abandoned deck chair and watch Joel walk up to the water, pick up a seashell, and drop it into the water again. He seems content to be here, you think. Relaxed. You don’t know him well, but his body language seems more at ease than it did back home. Perhaps you’re not the only one who needed a break.

You get up again, and walk over to Joel, who smiles when he sees you coming.

"You were right," he says, "it’s different in the dark."

You know he means the sea, the beach, the lack of people around, the sand that burned your feet only hours ago now having a cooling effect. Still, his words leave room for interpretation and you don’t miss the way his gaze moves over your form in his shirt.

"Thanks for the cocktails," you say quietly, "and the shirt."

Joel looks over at you, but you don’t have the guts to look at him. You can’t quite be sure what the moonlight and scenery will make you do, not when he’s never looked more handsome, and you’re more than tipsy.

"You’re welcome," he says honestly. "I know you’re doin’ this for your Dad more than anything, but I hope you’re still havin’ fun."

He’s self-conscious, or something close to it, wondering how he could make this trip more enjoyable for you – so he orders cocktails he doesn’t like and lets you wear his clothes.

"I am having fun," you reassure him. "I’m at the beach at night wearing a guy’s shirt who got me all the cocktails I wanted, instead of studying at my desk for the millionth night in a row."

Joel chuckles.

"My Dad should break his leg more often," you sigh, digging the heel of your foot into the sand. Joel doesn’t answer.

When you walk back to the hotel, you feel the ghost of his hand on your lower back, not touching, but lingering, as if he instinctively wants to stir you in the right direction, or keep you from stumbling. It makes that flutter in your stomach reappear.

You pass reception to get to the elevators, and the same woman is still there, smiling when he recognizes you.

"You two enjoying the sea?", she asks.

"Very much, thank you," you answer, "we had cocktails and walked to the beach."

The lady looks pleased at how happy you seem and smiles at Joel.

"I’m glad to hear it! Well, you two enjoy your Daddy-daughter trip," she says, before answering the telephone that starts ringing just as you’re about to say good-night.

Joel’s brows are furrowed when you look at him, which makes you suppress a grin. The lady assuming he’s your father is clearly bothering him, and you get the feeling it might not entirely be about his age.

When you’ve made it up to your rooms, you turn to Joel to find him already watching you. He looks different here, in the harsh light of the corridor, dark shadows falling over his features, his form somehow looking broader.

"Breakfast at nine?", he asks you, voice quiet so as not to disturb any other guests in their rooms.

"Yeah," you say, and before you can change your mind, you kiss his cheek. His expression is unreadable, when you pull away.

"Goodnight," you say with a tired smile, before teasingly adding "Daddy."

Joel holds your eye contact, and doesn’t flush this time.

"Careful," he says gently, voice low and dark. You swallow.

Before you can forget, you shrug off his shirt, but Joel doesn’t move to take it from your outstretched hand. After a beat, his eyes flicker over your face.

"Keep it," he says curtly, "I like it on ya."

And then he’s gone, the door to his room shutting with a soft thud. You shake your head slightly, and press the soft linen fabric against your nose, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat. You ache just at the thought of it having touched his skin, and him now wanting to see you in it, but it would feel like a violation if you relieved that ache now, even if Joel wasn’t there, so you ignore the dull throbbing between your legs best as you can and go to bed with Joel’s shirt right next to your bed.

***

The next morning you feel a little nervous about breakfast – something shifted between you and Joel after your good-bye in the hallway. He seemed so sure of himself when he told you he liked you in his shirt, so unwavering, and you’re a nervous wreck just thinking about saying good morning to him.

Instead of putting on the white sundress you wore yesterday, you slip into a bikini, a pair of comfortable shorts, and Joel’s linen shirt, half unbuttoned so that your necklace peeks out. This time you leave the sleeves un-rolled, liking how big it feels on you, a constant reminder of Joel’s size.

You wash your face and brush your teeth, but don’t shower since you’re going to have to do that in the evening anyway. Although you’re mostly excited to see Joel again, you also can’t wait to have your morning coffee and something to eat – you hope the breakfast buffet will be as good as dinner was.

You wait for Joel in the hallway, but when he doesn’t come out of his room, you knock on his door.

"One second," his voice comes from inside, and you wait leaning against the wall just like he did the day before. When he opens the door, you can’t suppress a smile – his hair is charmingly tousled from his sleep, he clearly didn’t know what to do with it without taking a shower first.

"Nice hair," you say, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel doesn’t answer, with his brows slightly furrowed he keeps staring at you. Anxiety floods your veins, and you wonder if it was the best idea to dress the way you did, if Joel might think of it as strange or creepy or pathetic.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he says, voice quiet and still rough from sleep. It’s not a question, just a statement, no judgement behind it. You swallow, watching his brown eyes trail over your arms, torso, your shorts.

"Yeah," you answer timidly, fighting the urge to cross your arms. "You said you liked it on me."

Joel’s eyes snap up to yours, and with all the courage you can muster up, you hold his gaze for several long seconds.

"I did."

Again, just a statement. One that doesn’t require an answer, but you feel like shrinking under Joel’s gaze, so you offer him an out out of the situation.

"I’ll take it off, if you want me to," you mutter, and quickly add "I’ll put on something else."

Joel watches you quietly, and finally runs a hand through his messy hair.

"No need, kid," he says with a defeated sounding exhale. "’M glad ya like it."

***

Breakfast is a welcome distraction from whatever happened in the hallway – you drink too much coffee, and try all of the delicious food offered: bacon and eggs, colorful fruit you have never seen before, yoghurt and pancakes. Joel sticks to coffee and toast, though he does steal one of the peaces of fruit from your plate.

"I’ll get one more cup," you say when you have drained the last of your coffee, and Joel chuckles.

"Might as well do a line," he says and you snort, but stay seated – he’s right, you should watch your caffeine intake. He watches you, and after a second raises an eyebrow.

"I didn’t mean anything by it. You drink as much coffee as you want."

His voice is apologetic and soft.

"No, I’ll do as you say," you answer, "or I’ll die of heart failure."

Something flashes over his face at those words, but you can’t pinpoint it. Still, your stomach flutters, when Joel doesn’t break the eye-contact.

After breakfast the two of you get your towels and the rest of your beach-belongings from your rooms, and Joel changes into his trunks again. You walk past reception quietly, the lady from the day before isn’t there, and Joel’s arm brushes against yours casually. Suddenly you wish you weren’t wearing his shirt, just to feel his skin against yours. It’s a little pathetic.

Joel gets you two deckchairs – the beach is still relatively empty – and you put on sunscreen. When you’re done with your limbs and stomach, you offer Joel the bottle.

"Do my back, please?"

"Sure," he mutters, taking the bottle from you, and gently stroking your hair out of the way. He’s quiet, holding you steady by the shoulder when you instinctively squirm away from the initial cold of the liquid on your skin, his hands calloused but gentle. From time to time, his fingers slip under the shoulder straps of your bikini, and you feel heat pool between your legs when he starts covering your lower back in sunscreen. His hand is dangerously close to the waistband of your swimsuit.

"All done," he says, closing the bottle. You raise an eyebrow.

"Don’t need sunscreen," he explains, "I don’t burn easy."

"You’ll get skin cancer," you argue. "Everybody needs sunscreen."

He huffs, but hands you the bottle and turns around to sit down on the deckchair. You watch his beautiful back, the way the skin ripples over his muscles, how broad and solid it seems. You squirt some of the sunscreen onto your hand and apply it to Joel’s shoulders, rubbing gently. He relaxes under your touch, the tension leaving his muscles, and you move your hands more deliberately, focusing on his shoulders, until Joel’s head falls forward slightly, giving into the sensation.

"Good?", you ask, a little shy.

Joel hums, and you wonder if his eyes are closed, if he’s enjoying your touch so much he can’t form a full sentence. You dig the heels of your palms into his muscles, the sunscreen making the slide easy. His skin his littered in freckles and birthmarks, marked by years of working under the sun.

"You always apply sunscreen like that?", Joel asks suddenly, and you flush.

"Most people aren’t this tense," you quip back, fingers gliding over Joel’s neck. "Actually, nobody’s ever been this tense, I think."

He shakes his head slightly, but lets you carry on, working your way down his back, the tan line of his trunks visible and oh so tempting. You imagine pulling them down and try to refrain from clenching your thighs together.

When you’re done, Joel’s muscles feel a little looser, more relaxed, and he turns around to look at you.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and you nod. Now that he can see you, look you directly in the eye, it feels almost absurdly bold to have touched him like that. Still, things have started to unravel a little. Lines have blurred.

Although you don’t know where you get the courage from, you hold his gaze, put one hand on his shoulder, and squeeze.

"Any time, Joel," you answer, and watch him swallow. Then, his own hand comes up to yours, and you half think he’s going to remove yours, but he just loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist, eyes not leaving yours.

"That’s a dangerous game you’re playin’, kid," he says quietly, but doesn’t let go of you. You hope he never does.

"Do you…want me to stop?", you ask him, because you will if this is making him uncomfortable, if you read him wrong. He’s silent for a second.

"No," he says so quietly it’s almost inaudible. His thumb starts moving over your wrist, right over the pulse point, and it makes you weak in the knees. You didn’t know a touch as small as that one could be so erotic, but with Joel it seems, everything is. You fight to not let a whimper escape your mouth, and close your eyes for just a second.

"God," Joel mutters, more to himself than to you, "look at you."

Your eyes snap open when you feel him move, hand still locked around your wrist securely, and suddenly he’s towering over you. You gaze up at him, his eyes bright under the blazing sun, his hair still tousled, his beard patchy and flecked with grey. He’s all man, in a way you didn’t know you found desirable before him, but there is undeniable proof of your want leaking into your swimsuit, sticky and hot between your thighs.

He watches you, intense eyes moving over your face, your eyes, your mouth, your hands, your body in your nicest swimsuit, your throat as you swallow. His other hand comes up to stroke the hair away from your neck, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. Joel almost chuckles, but it’s more the ghost of a breath. You flush.

"It’s fucking stupid to go through with this," Joel says seriously, like he wants to inform you of it – as if you don’t know.

"Yes," you breathe, because he’s completely right.

"Your Dad would kill me, and rightly so," he adds.

"Oh, fuck my Dad," you answer, trying to reach out to touch Joel, but your wrist is still tightly locked in his grasp. You tug a little, but he doesn’t budge.

"You doin’ this to get back at him?"

You detect something in his voice you don’t like – uncertainty.

"No, Joel," you breathe, "God, no. Have you looked into a mirror recently?"

That makes him smile, and you wonder if he gets compliments a lot, but by the way his cheeks gain color, you don’t think he does. Stupid, stupid world, stupid people who came before you. He should be told every second of the day.

"It’s still stupid,“ he says, but his eyes are more intense than before now. You’re on holiday, away from all judgement. You can do whatever you want to do to each other.

"Thought I was the smart one in my family," you tease, reminding him of his words on the plane. You want him to lean down and finally kiss you, or throw you down on the deckchair and fuck you right there, your face pressed into his linen shirt. His thumb keeps moving over your wrist, relentlessly building tension.

"Take me to your room," you whisper, eyes wide, and anticipation pooling deep in your belly. Joel curses.

"You have any idea of the things I wanna do to you?"

His voice is low, dangerous, and you’d be at least a little afraid if this one anyone else. But it’s Joel, who lets you hate your degree without judgement, drinks cocktails he doesn’t like just so you can enjoy yourself, and through his permission allows you to stop studying, lets you enjoy this trip.

"Do them," you breathe, "I’ll let you do anything."

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," he answers, and finally lets go of your wrist, one hand coming to rest on your waist, tugging you towards him, the other gently cradling your face. His breath ghosts over your mouth, and then he brushes your lips with his in a needy, slow kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you open up for him willingly. He tugs your hips against him, making you whimper and feel his bulge dig into your stomach.

The only thing keeping you from pulling him out of his swimming trunks right then is the fact that there are people around, and you’re pushing it already with the way his hands grasp at your skin and his tongue licks in your mouth. Any further and you could be arrested for public indecency.

"Please," you ask him between kisses, "Please, Joel, just take me to your room."

His teeth dig into your lower lip, and you fight a moan.

"Ask me again," he says, voice a little wrecked, and the need you feel for him deep in your stomach burns white hot. He wants you to beg.

"Please," you say, like he isn’t stripping you of your dignity instead of your clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not when Joel groans at the sound.

"Alright, kid. I’ve got you.“

[otomes-world]

Lucid dreaming

I haven't been the most productive writer this year. I'm also late with the congratulatory gift, but I'll continue anyway. This isn't exactly a New Year's themed work. I wrote it as unexpectedly as I posted it today. Thanks to everyone who's been with me this year! P.S. You can put here any of your favorite characters. Happy holiday my dear 0/

The sky was light purple with clouds running past, always hurrying somewhere. There was silence all around, broken only by the sound of footsteps on the stone-paved road. On the sides there were statues of various villains from different fairy tales. Why your consciousness decided to choose them was a question you would like to know the answer to.

This was not the first time you have found yourself in this place. Sometimes the locations were cut out illustrations from a fantasy book, and sometimes they seemed so real that sometimes you were surprised to wake up.

You remembered the very first one from the dream best. It was dark, the source of light was only the lanterns glowing green. Except for the full moon - because, of course, it had to be full - which was burning, a bright noticeable spot, already at this stage not boding anyting well. The road led you through a landscaped park and, it seemed, there was nothing unexpected in this. Until it turned and before your eyes appeared an ornate metal gate, the wicket door standing open. As if inviting you to enter.

In the distance, a castle stood proudly, its sharp towers piercing the sky.

Hearing a horse neighing behind you, you turned around abruptly and woke up. Blinking and trying to catch your breath after the sudden awakening, you replayed such a real scene in your head. As if you had already been there, which was a stupid statement. You were not the type of person running around abandoned buildings and shouting into the void with a flashlight: "Give me a sign!" However, dreams are dreams, and work and getting ready in the mornings were still necessary.

The cold water finally drove away the remnants of sleep, and the amazing dream would have been forgotten in the routine, if it had not been repeated the next night.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Throughout the year.

The bell caught your attention, and you looked up to greet the new customer. It was raining outside, and many people were rushing to hide under the shelter of the roofs of small coffee shops and stores. Yours was no exception.

Well, the cafe wasn't exactly yours. You just worked there as a barista, because, firstly, it wasn't difficult. Secondly, the pay was pretty good. Thirdly… you started working there as a teenager, and now the small establishment had become an integral part of your life. A second home, no matter how saccharine it may sound. You loved this place, and that was only thing that matters.

Usually, the hustle and bustle took up all possible free time and there were no thoughts for unnecessary reflections, but on such a melancholic day with an equally thoughtful accompaniment, it became an exception.

Despite the fact that dreams, against your will, also tightly merged with your everyday life, you could not deny how real they felt from time to time. The texture of objects, the wind on your skin, and even the banal emotions of what was happening. The only thing that kept you afloat was the next awakening after the invisible timer ended. Whatever you saw, whatever place you visited this time, in the end you opened your eyes in your apartment. You walked to your favorite job along familiar streets. You saw the same faces of passersby running through the shop windows to their business.

Everything was as it should have been.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slowly starting to change. You no longer felt lonely and restless in the world of dreams. As if you were being thrown into moments when someone was nearby. Even though you couldn’t see each other, the suspicion in the subcortex of your consciousness made itself known.

You first noticed this while sitting in the library, whose shelves with books stretched as far as the view could reach. It was quiet and, taking the first manual on flying on broomsticks that came to hand, you opened it to a random page and dozed off, propping your chin up with your hand. Sleeping in a dream was ironical but the sun shining through the window made you sleepy.

The chair next to you creaked, and you instantly opened your eyes. There was no one nearby. Frowning, you left the book, stood up and walked around the seats, peering around the corners. It was definitely a chair. As if someone had moved it to sit at the table. When you returned to your place, you discovered that the book was closed and put on the edge of the table.

Ghosts didn't exist, you repeated to yourself. Although you were actually asleep, so in the world of your consciousness they could be as real as, for example, you. The realization made you shudder unpleasantly, but not from the cold. The desire to return to the previous place disappeared and, casting another wary glance at the book, you turned to hide in the depths of the library. While away the time until you woke up.

From that moment on, you constantly began to notice someone's invisible presence. Moreover, you could swear that this someone noticed you. You simply did not have direct evidence of each other's existence.

Doubts gnawing from within deprived you of peace during the period intended for rest. Until, finding yourself in the library, you walked to the nearest table to grab a piece of paper and a pen. It looked and sounded stupid. Trying to find an explanation for the oddities in a dream was like asking unnecessary questions in a computer game.

"Are you here?"

Leaving a piece of paper and a pen nearby, you stepped away, turned on your heels and left. If the pen suddenly flew in and started scratching something, you couldn't promise that you wouldn't fall over on the spot. The anticipation was driving you crazy, but it was a necessary decision to try to calm yourself down.

After making a few circles, forcing yourself to read the spines of the books, trying to distract yourself, you walked back slowly. The items were where you left them, only next to your inscription there was another one.

"I'm here"

You dropped into a chair and not taking your eyes off the paper, afraid to touch it. You sat there until you woke up again.

A sigh escaped against your will, forcing your eyes shut and open a couple of times, you tried to straighten up. You probably weren't the best employee today, but the work shift flew by unnoticed. It was time to close. Stepping out into the hall and sitting down on one of the soft chairs, you rubbed the bridge of your nose. That incident wouldn't leave your head and although you never repeated such experiments, it was enough to turn your whole understanding of the dream world upside down. It was one thing to travel to an unknown place and quite another to realize that you were not alone.

The bell on the door rang - someone had arrived. Damn it, you forgot to close the door and turn the sign over. Pulling yourself together, you raised your head to meet an unknown man. Although he was outwardly calm, you noticed how interestedly he was looking around.

"Excuse me, sir, we are closed," you addressed him, drawing his attention to you. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but you definitely hadn't met before. You remembered most of the cafe's customers. "You can come in tomorrow, we are open from 8 am."

You looked at each other for a while. This gave you another chance to look him over. He was dressed in some sort of uniform: a black jacket and pants, a colorful vest, a white shirt and a striped tie. Then he closed his eyes and answered more cheerfully than you expected.

"Oh, that's too bad," his expression didn't match the bad - for him - news. "I was hoping to get out of the rain."

You glanced at the door behind him, and sure enough, the rain didn't seem to be letting up. A sentence you would never have uttered to anyone in your right mind was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

The stranger's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a happy glint in his eyes. For some reason, the unexpected remark rang in your head like a bell, even though no one was coming in. Without waiting for his answer - your intuition told you that he would not refuse - you went to the door and turned the sign over to "Closed".

"I need to close and clean up, it'll take me," you glanced quickly at the clock by the counter. "Half an hour or so. You can wait there until I'd finish but after you'll have to leave."

You did not believe in fateful meetings, but perhaps this was one of them? It sounded cheesy even to you, so you ignored the man who had settled down on a chair near the display case. Of all the places, he decided to choose this one.

With sheer willpower, you forced yourself to get down to work, already regretting your words. It was too late to take them back and throw him out into the street.

Surprisingly, he did not try to start a conversation with you, limiting himself to rare glances, for which you were grateful. If he suddenly decided to continue the dialogue, you would have caught a nervous overstrain. Enough impressions from this day.

You walked over to where he had been sitting, seemingly a moment ago, to wipe down the surface. Then you froze. There was a white paper napkin with just three words on it,

You finished wiping the tables and looked around the hall. As you got to work, you completely forgot about the man's presence. Turning to the counter, you found that he was no longer there. When did he leave and why didn't you hear? It saved you from unnecessary interaction, though.

"I'm here."

[valandrawrites]

2024 Recommended Fics - Incomplete List

Here's my start at an end of year round up. If you're looking for a specific kind of fic or trope, let me know, and I'll try to find something for you! I have many, many more I could add, and what I've included is in no particular order.

I didn't list the rating or warnings with this because it just got too long, and honestly, I'm lazy. Read at your own risk.

A. fragilis by eachainn @eachainn

This is quite simply the best fic I've ever read. Do not continue until you read this one!

150 million years ago, an Allosaurus finds a stranger had wandered into his territory and he wants the intruder out.

1878, the middle of what will become known as the Bone Wars between O.C. Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope. Castiel Novak is transporting fossils from the latest dig in South Dakota back to Yale. He has to be careful, because there are people who work for Professor Cope who would gladly take the fossils off of his hands.

Those Who Get in the Way of Peace by ladyofthelake17 @ladyofthe-lake

“Don’t make me an optimist. You will ruin my life.”

Dean Winchester finally has his shit together: business is booming at his auto repair shop, he's eating healthy (okay, he's eating salad with bacon bits), he's exercising (in a cemetery). He's single, but he's claiming it as a good thing. And so what if Sam's not talking to him? So what if his dad is marrying an insane artist? And so what if the priest marrying them is hot as hell with a name that sounds like a sin just to say it — Castiel?

AKA: another Fleabag fic, but maybe it'll have a happy ending. Maybe.

Illicit Ink by allmystars @allmystars-i

Dean Winchester has a secret. He does this thing maybe two or three times a week, and he loves it, don’t get him wrong, but… He’s a camboy, and that’s not exactly something he wants shared around the breakfast table. When Dean decides he needs a change, it’s nothing too drastic, just a tattoo. But the hot-as-sin tattoo artist he gets to do the job might just change everything.

Ground Control to Major Tom by MrsShinigamiDaiko @mrs-shinigami-daiko

Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment?

Pinfall by crowleyo @crowleyo

Cas runs the family diner with his adopted son, Jack. His old high school flame rolls into town and he thinks he can just step back into Castiel's life. Well... He's kind of right.

This Impossible Happiness by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta

In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend.

In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep.

Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

Then Comes the Rain by someonetoanyone @someonetoanyone-blog - a three part series

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Rowena tells him, as though that will absolve her of anything, “he may have a better solution for this, but the spell requires a smidge of spilled Grace. He’ll need to be hurt for this to work, and — Dean, all joking aside, you may be the only person fit to do this.”

“Oh, this’ll be great — go ahead, tell me why I’m the only one that can get butt-fucked to save the world.”

Mind Your Own Business by BunnyHunter

While the ability to overhear the secret thoughts of the people around him was distracting at best and anxiety-inducing at worst, Castiel had found ways to cope that included a pair of noise-canceling headphones and burying himself in his PhD research. After hearing inner thoughts for his entire life, there were very few things he overheard that surprised him anymore. So imagine his shock when his roommate Sam's brother, Dean, came to stay with them. While Dean may have been able to keep a straight face on the outside, his inner thoughts told a much different story.

Survivalism by bleuzombie @bleuzombie

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry.

Dean Winchester’s half-way house for orphaned half-monsters (and humans) by foolondahill17 @foolondahill17

What if Dean just kept every kid he’s ever interacted with?

A re-write of season 6 onwards in which Dean slowly collects every conceivable stray that crosses his path.

The eyes of a lamb by naughtystiel @naughtystiel for Shedar

The year is '98 and Spring is approaching fast. For most, the season is a symbol of new beginnings with Mother Nature’s chaste kiss that breathes life into everything once more. It's inspiring, peaceful and beautiful. So, the fact that this is exactly when a certain serial killer loves to strike makes Detective Winchester's blood boil. Two years in a row now, the guy has slipped through his fingers, not leaving a single trace behind. No clues, no leads, just murdered women in the most picturesque places imaginable. And the worst thing of all? Sometimes Dean catches himself admiring the killer's work.

where there is darkness by quiettewandering @quiettewandering @wanderingcas 

When Castiel Milton takes a job to be the new assistant keeper at Whaleback Lighthouse in Kittery, Maine, he expects to live out his new life in quiet isolation. What he gets instead is Dean Winchester: bitter, brash, and, like Castiel, harboring a dark secret. As the spark of attraction between them grows into a flame, the lighthouse walls start closing in—as do the ghosts of Dean and Castiel's checkered pasts.

[steviewashere]

I saw everybody sharing their fave fanfics they read over the course of 2024, so I thought I'd go ahead and share some that I've bookmarked! Heads up, I may have recommended a few of these before in my attempts to do recommendations in previous months, but it doesn't hurt anybody to share them again.

Also, as always, heed all archive warnings, tags, and ratings for each piece. Be kind, leave kudos and comments, and most importantly, happy reading! <3

My 2024 Fave Fanfics in No Particular Order:

Yours (all along) by ohstars | @oh-stars "Eddie Munson has spent the last ten years trying to move on from the collapse of Hawkins. Now he's starting at a new school on the coast of South Carolina with the hopes that he can find some kind of peace in this new life of his. Of course, that's turned on his head when a freshman decides to get under his skin and when that freshman's parents happen to be his nemesis (and love of his life) and one of his former best friends? Eddie's certain the universe has it in for him. Now he has to navigate teaching his enemy's child and dealing with the Incident that started it all, that he's been running away from this whole time. Is it time to start running? Or will Eddie finally be brave enough to tackle his feelings head on?" Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 16/16 | Steddie

keep my hand in yours by cydonic "Eddie Munson, a cleaner at a regional airport in Indiana, finds a boy asleep on the floor outside Departure Gate A3 on Christmas Eve. Eddie's always had a soft spot for strays, so he takes Steve Harrington home for the holidays." Explicit | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

my heart has changed (my soul has changed) by Chubbypeachh "Four years after the breakup that broke Steve Harrington, he's face to face with Eddie at a New Year's Eve party." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

The Dearest and Best by emchant3d | @emchant3d "Eddie never second guessed that Wayne had him. Always. No matter what. Until he was gone." Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Eddie & Wayne, Steddie

sometimes by kas_eddie_munson | @kas-eddie-munson "And he knew, really, it was silly. But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing. Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar. Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop. Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while. And here he was. Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive. The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step. And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair. ONE step. ~~~ Or, everything is different after Vecna. Eddie Munson's body will never be the same, and neither will he." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

Follow Your Heart by steddiecameraroll | @steddiecameraroll "Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop. “Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into. “You ok?” The man asks. Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now. -or- Eddie keeps seeing a man he bumped into and for some reason can't stop thinking about him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

don't say nothing's wrong by MomotoneScreaming | @momotonescreaming "“If you’re gonna continue to bully me, dude,” Steve starts, brows furrowing; lips pursed in a tight, angry line. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.” or A Dustin Henderson character analysis" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steve & Dustin

safe and sound by sidekick_hero | @sidekick-hero "What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

I Love You (it's ruining my life) by LadySlytherin "Steve Harrington is three years old the first time he coughs up a flower petal. He's nineteen when he learns the flowers in his lungs are finally killing him. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem...and sometimes, they're a whole lot simpler." Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Chapters: 3/3 | Steddie

you still dance but you're out of time by Atalia_Gold | @ataliagold "“Because what, Steve?” Oh, he’s dropped the Harrington now, and Steve knows he’s fucked, knows Hopper’s not going to back off. “Because I can’t fucking sleep, ok?” Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and broken. “When I do, I dream about…about the fucking Upside Down, about my friends dying, about me being too slow to save them, and I wake up screaming. And I can hardly get to sleep anyway because these,” Steve yanks his three layers up, reveals the marred skin on his sides, “keep me awake.” Hopper’s face is stony, unreadable. For a moment, Steve feels some sick kind of gratification that he’s managed to render the man speechless. That he’s made somebody care. ***** Until now, nobody's worked out that Steve's essentially homeless, living in his car. But one night, when Steve's cold and alone and in pain, Hopper chances across him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie, Steve & Hopper

I read so many other fics over the course of 2024. Unfortunately, I am the kind of person who often doesn't use their brain or resources, so I didn't bookmark everything I read over the whole year. Anyway. Hopefully, this new year will be better for us all—even if you thought 2024 was your best, may it get better anyway—and also, of course, may Steve/Eddie stay in our brains and hearts.

I've had such a fun year writing. (For Christ's sake, I wrote over 100 fics like I was going to die at any moment.) And I've already got a few fics coming out within the first two weeks of January. Also, so many other fics planned out for the rest of the year; as well as fics that I'd like finish—looking at you, Mer Steve, my Stommy fic, and Single Parent Eddie/Hairstylist Steve. I'm sure I'll be a mess of words all year, hair wild as I try to complete challenges, but it's fun at the end.

Love y'all, thank you for a marginally great 2024! Seriously, 2025, please be better for my soul.

[m2marie]

Mission with the Newbie

Summary: Y/n is send off on a mission with her new Mentor. Natasha Romanoff. Of all people, the woman who doesn’t seem to like her. Or so she assumed.

It’s been a week since I moved into the Avengers Compound, and honestly, I haven’t had much time to settle in properly. Everything still feels a bit overwhelming. It's like everyone knows what to do and how to act, and i just haven't found my place yet.

I get along well with everyone though —well, almost everyone.

Wanda is always so joyful and kind, she helped me settle in the last couple days and I'm so glad to have her around. We just clicked immediately and she really seems to get me. Natasha thought is the complete opposite.

I can’t shake the feeling that Natasha doesn’t like me. Every time we’re in the same room, she either throws some sarcastic comment my way or just stares at me for way too long. It’s like she’s analyzing me or waiting for me to mess up. I have no idea what I did to get on her bad side, but it’s starting to drive me crazy. I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s impossible when the tension is so obvious.

This morning, we both ended up in the kitchen. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her coffee, while I fumbled around looking for a clean mug. The silence was unbearable until she finally spoke.

“You always take this long to find a cup, or is it a special skill?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. I turned to face her, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I didn’t realize coffee mugs were a competition around here.” She smirked and took another sip. “Relax. It’s just an observation. You’re so jumpy all the time.”

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t keep staring at me like I’m about to explode,” I shot back, unable to hold it in anymore.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“Maybe,” I said, though I didn’t believe it for a second. The room fell silent again, but this time it felt even heavier. Wanda and Pietro entering the kitchen finally ended my misery. Pietro had taken off his shirt, it was hanging over his left shoulder. A bit of sweat running down his forehead He was chatting with his sister, wearing a black sports bra and some red leggings. The same exhaustion visible on her reddened face. They obviously just came back from some sort of sport.

I am already proud of myself for standing in the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day at 7:30 am. Their energy really is a mystery to me.

"Hey Y/n, Tony wants to see you in his lab later.", Pietro tells me while peeling his orange. "Me?", i ask back, a bit perplexed. Tony and I have only exchanged a few sentences so far. As far as I noticed he spends most of his time in the lab. Fury was the one wanting me on the team. It's not like Tony seemed to have a problem with it, he didn't really care much for my presence so far.

"Yes you. Don't be so shocked, it's been about time he talks to you about your job on the team.", Wanda chuckled, "And he wants to see you too Nat."

She lets out an audible sight "Great. Lets get this over with then"

I follow the redhead to Tony’s lab, where he was leaning over a holographic display. When we walk in, he turns with his signature smirk. “Ah, just the ones i was looking for. Glad you could join me.”

“Get to the point, Stark,” Natasha said, her tone sharp. Tony chuckles . “Alright, here’s the deal. A small mission’s come up—nothing major, won’t take long. Natasha, I want you to handle it. And,” he gestures toward me, “take our newbie here along. Teach her a thing or two about going undercover.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowe. “You’re kidding.” She exhales slowly, the irritation clear in her voice. “So now I’m a babysitter.”

“Call it mentorship,” Tony says with a grin. “You’ll thank me later.”, what was that suppose to mean?

The drive to the motel is quiet for the most part, save for Natasha’s occasional muttering about Tony’s brilliant ideas. When we finally pull up to the small, run-down building, she kills the engine and looks at me. Her green eyes sparkling in the sun. I never noticed how mesmerizing her eyes are. “Welcome to your first undercover lesson: how to survive terrible accommodations.”, she smirks.

I followe her inside, and the receptionist hands us one key. Natasha doesn't say anything until we walk into the room. She stopps dead in her tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I peek over her shoulder and see the problem immediately—there was only one bed.

“Well, this is cozy,” I say awkwardly.

Natasha doesn't respond though, she throws the key onto the nightstand and crosses her arms. “You take the bed. I’ll take the chair.”

“You don’t have to do that! It's big enough, we can share.” I offer quickly. Too quickly maybe. She is barley bearable with a good nights sleep, i don't want to get to know a Natasha who just spend 8 hours on a hard wood chair.

She gave me a pointed look. “I’m fine. Just try not to snore.”

“Do you always sound this thrilled about missions?” I asked, trying to lift the awkward mood.

She smirks faintly, sitting down in the chair and kicking her feet up on the table. “Only when I’m stuck with rookies.”

I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or being serious, but I decided to leave it at that. This was going to be a long mission.

"So..." i start, not really knowing what I want to say. I am just trying to get away from this awkward tension. "... do we have a plan? Or are we just winging it."

"Lesson number two: We are never 'winging it', there is always a plan. And in this case, you follow mine." She explains. "Got it!", do i thought? Im not really better informed than i was a minute ago. But Nat didn't really seem to care much. My so called "Mentor" just started unpacking her bags. Silence. Again. I watch her every move. How she moves so gracefully across the room. Her red her swinging from side to side while she placed her few belongings to their new temporary places. She always seems so cold, distance. But there is something drawing me to her. I can't really place it , can't explain it. "It's important you dont get too distracted tomorrow. Try not staring at me too much or you'll mess up the whole mission " She interrupts my thoughts and i can feel the head working its way up into my head.

"No distractions. I'll remember that.", i answer looking down to hide my blush. But her little smirk still doesnt go unnoticed by me.

"You know, I never know what to call you.", I try to change the subject. Natasha looks at me, confusion written on her face. "Natasha, Nat, Romanoff... everyone has a different name for you", i clarify. Her green eyes piercing in my direction, slightly tilting her head,"You can call me whatever you want".

"Alright", i said slowly, unsure if that was actually helpful.

The next morning i woke up alone in our small room. Stretching my arms I looked across the room. The chair Nat demanded to spend the night on was turned towards my bed. The door cracks open slowly and Nat enters the room, holding two plates and two cups of coffee. "Rise and shine. We have a mission to attend to.", she says with a million dollar smile across her face.

Did i wake up in a new dimension? Why is she so enthusiastic all of a sudden. She really cant wait to get this babysitting job over with I assume.

"While you are getting your beauty sleep in, i made some research and this mission is even easier then expected."

And she was right. Unsurprisingly. The mission itself had been quick. We did the groundwork, got the intel, and i followed her lead. Nat worked effortlessly, efficiently. Her good mood from this morning didn't change either. Her icy professionalism long gone and instead replaced with linguine gaze. Either im starting hallucinating or THE Black widow, Natasha Romanoff, is checking me out. I dont know what changed, what caused her change in demeanor, but im not complaining about it.

When we got back to our Motel, Natasha didn't speak a word. Parking the car she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards our room. The hallway was quiet, almost as if we were completely alone in this motel. She turned around, looking into my eyes. I forced myself not to turn my gaze away from her dominant stare. Im almost certain that her eyes are slowly turning darker. Or it might me duo the flickering lamps. "This Hotel is total crap.", she states, as if she could read my mind. "But its on us to make the best of it, right?", her signature smirk returning again. Am in reading this situation completely wrong or is she shamelessly flirting with me right now?!

Without thinking, I stepped closer. The space between us disappeared easily, and suddenly, I was right in front of her. The air was thick with tension, and she didn’t back away—if anything, she leaned in, her presence making my heart race.

Before i could say anything else, i could feel her lips on mine. It was electric, urgent, like we’d both been waiting for this without realizing it. Her lips were soft but insistent, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, and I felt the world around us fade away. It was just the two of us, caught in the heat of the moment.

Pressing me against the door, her thigh in between my legs. "Maybe we should... go inside?" I husk out when our lipa finally part.

"Why? Afraid someone will see us out here?"She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against my arm. “Or are you just eager to get me alone again?”

The way she said it made my pulse spike, and I was certain she could tell. I swallowed hard, struggling for a clever comeback, but before I could say anything, she grabbed the key and opened the door herself, glancing over her shoulder as she walked inside.

“Coming?” she asked, the smirk never leaving her face.

And just like that, I knew she had the upper hand—but for once, I didn’t mind.

Thats it :)) My first time writing something, so i hope it wasn't too weird and chaotic... otherwise give me feedback

[aristocratic-otter]

Thank you for tagging me, @monbons, @rimeswithpurple, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @prettygoododds,

@ileadacharmedlife, @alexalexinii, @best--dress,  @j-nipper-95, @roomwithanopenfire, 

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @whatevertheweather

It's been another lovely year of getting to know you all and making new friends in this amazing fandom.

Some 2024 stats from AO3:

Number of works posted: 11

Number of events participated in: 6

Number of works completed: 3

Number of words written: 156,000

Seems pretty decent, right? But compare that to 2023:

Number of works posted: 12

Number of events participated in: 7

Number of works completed: 10

Number of words written: 294,445

So, what the fuck happened that cut my productivity literally in half? (Though I worked on nearly the same amount of fics, lol. Methinks my ambition doth outstrip my ability.)

Well, that’s a story, and one that’s unfortunately too common, from what I’ve learned. If you don’t want to listen to me ramble, feel free to jump down to the monthly list, because this is going to be entirely self-indulgent. Story and Fic timeline under the cut:

Part 1: 

Sometime around the beginning of last year, I began suffering a series of muscle and joint injuries…or so I thought. I was diagnosed with so many things. Arthritis. Bursitis. Muscle Strain. I was given physical therapy. I stopped going to physical therapy when the simplest exercise my therapist gave me left me crying in pain. I was given muscle relaxants and pain meds. Nothing had any long term effect. All I knew was, my body was slowly giving up on me. 

It affected my job. I went from being a teacher who was constantly buzzing around the classroom, checking on students and giving assistance, to a teacher who seldom could manage to leave her chair. My students struggled and my classroom grew messier by the day, because I couldn’t check that the students were cleaning up, nor could I clean up after them myself. 

It affected my home life. By the time I’d get home from work, the pain and stiffness were always at a high. I’d end up rotting in a recliner all evening, every evening. My mind grew foggier, my concentration worse, and it started taking me three to four times the usual amount of time to simply prep my lesson for the next day. I had next to nothing left to spare for my family or my hobbies.

So writing? On a work night, I was lucky to write a paragraph. Real progress on my WIPs started only happening on weekends. 

Finally, near the beginning of last summer, I went to my doctor, desperate for something, anything. At that point, I was beginning to believe I’d have to take (very) early retirement and go on disability, because I couldn’t even walk around a grocery store, and I refused to have another year where I didn’t serve my students as they deserved to be served. 

I blurted out all of this to my doctor, and she frowned at me and asked me to describe where my pain was. 

Hips, spine, knees, ankles, elbows, I told her. 

Then she said the words that changed everything. “It sounds like you have Fibromyalgia.”

Part 2

Can you believe, educated as I am, especially in the sciences, I’d never heard of it? I’ve learned a lot since. Fibro mainly afflicts women, mainly affects people in their prime or slightly older. And, until recently, it was considered an unprovable disease, like chronic fatigue syndrome. There were no medical tests for it, and most victims were treated like they were imagining things. There were no medicines for it. No therapies. There was no explanation for the disparate cluster of symptoms associated with it.  As far as the medical profession was concerned, it didn’t exist. 

I’m lucky. Things started changing for Fibro patients just a few years before my diagnosis. Three years ago, two drugs were approved for it. There is now a diagnostic test for it. And there’s plenty of research outlining a causal pathway for the disease. 

Turns out, it’s a brain disease. The brain affects every part of the body, and in the case of fibro, it also affects how we perceive our bodies. Because that’s what happens in fibromyalgia: your brain misreads pain signals from the body. It’s like my pain sensitivities are always dialed up to eleven. Something that causes a twinge for a non-Fibro sufferer can cause a Fibro patient to scream in agony. 

When I went to a specialist, she told me I hit every single diagnostic criteria for Fibromyalgia. So, I got meds. I got referrals to a rheumatologist and physical therapy again. This time, the physical therapist was able to focus my work on things that were within my capabilities and were meant to improve my symptoms. My rheumatologist is testing out different meds and dosages on me to see what gets the most useful result. 

I still have Fibro. Maybe I always will, there’s disagreement on whether a cure is even possible. But the meds and therapy help manage the pain and reverse some of the brain fog. I’m able to circulate and help my students again, though I have to be cautious of overexertion, which can trigger a high-pain episode. I can interact with my family and actually do some chores and work in the evenings, though, again, I have to take it easy (I’m not good at taking it easy, it’s a learning curve). I’m writing more. Usually a page or more a night. 

My journey is hopefully back on track, and I hope to finish all of my current WIPs in the next year. But I figured that this is the one night a year that people use to reflect on the past and look forward to the future, so that’s what I’m doing. And maybe my story will help someone. If you’re struggling with any aspect of your health, I hope you find answers and help in 2025. 

Happy New Year!

My Year In Fic

January

Nothing new posted or finished. As I recall, I was mostly working on The Heart in the Well and Cupid's Shield.

February

Posted (republished after release in the Lady Ruth Charity Zine)

The Bother About Brownies (art by @hgari)

4845 Words, Rated T

Baz is tasked with creating a dessert for the triplets' school cake sale. Brownies are such an easy recipe. What could go wrong?

Lemon Blueberry Shortbread, art by @letraspal

2912 Words, Rated G

Two afternoons of learning to cook a family recipe, thirty years apart.

Posted as part of Erotic Gropefest (WIP)

Cupid’s Shield, WIP

Currently 10,122 words, Rated E

I used to think that Valentine’s Day was bollocks invented by greeting card companies.

That was before I started at Watford and learned that it was deadly serious.

March

Nothing posted (possibly some chapters of WIPs, there's no way to check). But I was definitely working on nearly all of my fics that are still WIPs and The Heart in the Well, which is finished.

April

First Posting of:

Stars, Flowers, and Children (WIP)

Currently 20,005 words, Rated E

To Simon, Baz is a stuck up brat he has to put up with in between his duties as Cabin boy on the SS Watford.

To Baz, Simon is the chavvy, illiterate savage of a boy who won't bow and scrape the way he's supposed to.

Marooned together because of a disaster at sea, they'll have to come together as allies in order to survive. But they're destined to become so much more than that.

May

More work on posting chapters of in-progress WIPs.

June

Finished final chapter of:

The Heart In The Well

14326 Words, Rated T

Carry On Reverse Bang 2023 Collaboration with @alexalexinii, 

Simon Snow should have known better than to chase after the Hobgoblin Horde. Now he's trapped at the bottom of a well with no food or water, and a vampire who's only going to get thirstier as time passes.

Baz Pitch doesn't know why the Hobgoblins abducted him from the Wavering wood. He just knows that Snow was stupid enough to get caught too, and now they're trapped together, and Baz hasn't had blood in three days...

July

First chapter posted of Carry On Big Bang Collaboration with @cutestkilla

The Rat and the River, (WIP)

Currently 10550 words, Rated E

Simon Snow is an epidemiologist working for the UKHSA He's a cocky field scientist who goes to hotspots all over the world, helping to track down the causes of the outbreaks and put an end to the cycle of death and disease.

Baz is a microbiologist, who, until now, has never left the UK. He works on Simon’s samples sent from overseas, but that’s the closest he gets to danger and excitement. He’s a reservist, meaning he’s available for deployment in the event of a large-scale event, but he’s never been called up.

Simon does his best to stir him up whenever he’s in town because he believes that Baz's life lacks excitement. One day, Simon is sent into action again, this time to South America. Down a microbiologist, Simon decides to pick Baz. In his mind, it’s to show him “the real world” but he really just wants a chance to work side by side with the reserved scientist.

Of course, in the rainforest tracking a disease of unknown origin and deadliness, that may just be spreading out of control, is maybe not the best place for a flirtation.

But when has Simon ever done things the easy way?

August

Most recent update of: 

Saving Simon Snow (WIP)

Currently 47,078 Words, Rated E

What if Simon had never gone to Baz's gothic manor over the Christmas holidays? What if the war between the old families and the Mage started while Simon confronted the Mage in the White Chapel?

The Mage is dead. The Humdrum defeated. The old families have control of Watford and the Coven. And nobody will tell Baz where Simon Snow is.

September

First month of school. Needless to say, nothing got done.

October

First Posting of

Tiktok Dancer (WIP)

Currently 11,133 words, Rated E

Snow has never known a world outside his father's realm in the ocean. Until he comes across a group of dancers performing on the beach, and finds a dream he'd never thought to have.

November

2024 Carry On Reverse Bang Entries. 

The Stoves Come On At Night, (WIP), collaboration with @ebbpettier:

Currently 4895 words, Rated M

Fresh out of a break-up, Simon is desperate for work. He takes on a caretaking job for the elderly Mordelia Grimm. It's a pretty slick gig: fully-stocked pantry, big beautiful house, nobody to bother him. Nobody around, for miles.

But at night, Simon swears that he hears footsteps in empty rooms.

He starts finding puddles of lake water, footprints, doors open when he knows he left them closed. At night, he hears the sound of wet, rattling breathing from his pitch-black doorway.

Most concerning of all, the stoves keep turning on at night, even if he switches them off and tapes down the dials.

There's something very wrong at Pitch Manor.

Baby Mine (WIP), collaboration with @argumentativeantitheticalg

Currently 3590 words, Rated M

Four years ago, Basilton Pitch teamed up with Simon Snow to solve the mystery of who murdered Baz's mother. Now, they'll need to join forces again, after an unexpected delivery is left on Baz's doorstep.

December

Most recent update of my 2023 fic for COTTA

The Snow Fox (WIP)

Currently 27,344 Words, Rated E

Simon "Snow" Salisbury is the most wanted patriot in the American Revolution. Wanted by the British army, who want to see him hanged. Wanted by the Tories, who'd shoot him on sight, given the chance.

And wanted by Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

I also participated in the Secret Snowflake Exchange on the Carry On Discord, but it looks like I'll be finishing that fic after midnight my time, so it'll end up being the first fic of 2025!

I'm probably the last to do this. But in case I'm not, here's tags for anyone on my tag list who didn't tag me, so anyone who wants to has a chance to do this.

@thewholelemon, @bookish-bogwitch, @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos,

@erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,  @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @melodysmash,

@moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,  @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee,

@tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix,

@shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello, @shrekgogurt,

@cosmicalart,  @theearlgreymage, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart,

@martsonmars, @skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @messofthejess, @noblecorgi,

@hushed-chorus,  @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla,@letraspal, @ic3-que3n,

@emeryhall, @larkral, @youarenevertooold

[importantangelness]

Why i really wanted the amnesia original lore. It would have allowed future exploration of who Vi truly is, also the impact on Jinx’s and Caitlyn's stories. My arcane brain purge.

(For Vi) Vi's amnesia would have freed her from the guilt she carries from her families demise. We see her revolve her whole personality around protecting others, but if she loses her memory, we can actually answer the question the writers asked (who is vi if she has no one left to protect). I would have loved to see her create a life for herself-getting an apartment, finding a job. If she became an enforcer, this would be more believable since she forgot her family. LoL Vi is also much more carefree, joking around, and loose compared to the burdened, serious Vi we see in Arcane. How did she evolve into this different version? Perhaps amnesia could have explained this shift, making her a more independent character. After s2 it's clear that she has no one left but caitlyn creating this unhealthy dependency for caitlyn. The final line, where Vi says she is "the dirt under Caitlyn's nails," paints a picture of Vi living for Caitlyn, with no other purpose. So now vi is living in caitlyns mansion with caits dad who doesn't like vi. What if they fight? Will vi simply go down a drunk spiral because the last person she has doesn't want her anymore? It leaves Vi without her own identity, solely defined by Caitlyn's presence.

(For Caitlyn) we know the show hinted Caitlyn needed to sacrifice (cait and ambessa in ep 6) as a consequence of her actions. I thought her loss of Vi could have ALSO been a consequence of her actions. After Vi loses her memory, we could have gotten a parallel to the ep 4 meeting scene when vi says, "Who the hell are you?" However, the Vi that she fell in love with and the memories they had are both gone. But this doesn't have to be the end, we could see Caitlyn try to move on, only for fate to bring them back together and fall in love again. Ultimately, I would have loved to see Caitlyn and Vi's relationship develop in a way that allowed them both to be independent, find closure, and rediscover love in a more balanced, healthy way, free from the burden of their past. Also, the angst of them losing each other but eventually finding their way back to each other. Like imagine vi meeting caitlyn again, and she compliments her on her eye scar 😌.

(For Jinx) It would have been interesting if vi and Jinx had reconnected only for vi to her memory, having Jinx lose her sister all over again. This could have achieved the same dramatic impact without the need to introduce Isha. (Cuz what was the purpose of isha'a character other than hurtful character development by making jinx happy then suicidal). Also, if ekko knows theres a version where vi is dead, it could influence Jinx not to reveal to Vi that they are siblings post memory loss. By withholding that information, Jinx would relinquish any hope of a reunion, leaving Vi free to be with caitlyn or whatever vi chooses. That way both sisters have a chance at a new start. Vi with finding her own way and jinx with her new life with lux.

(Final remarks) Dead or alive Jinx ending was well written. If Jinx is alive, she will most likely make a new life with lux or other league characters. However, Vi's emotional journey feels unresolved. After s2, She'll always carry the weight of her family's fate, and if Jinx is alive, I don't believe Caitlyn will ever tell Vi about Jinx being alive. Caitlyn knows that if Vi learns the truth, she might either leave or go after Jinx, making Vi's line about being "dirt under Caitlyn's nails" even more poignant-it's not about Vi choosing Caitlyn; it's about her having no one else left. It would have been really interesting to see vi forget powder/jinx. Allowing jinx to become the menace to piltover, she is in LoL to try to get her sister to remember her again. I thought Arcane could have set up character stories of LoL rather than end the champions' stories.

If you made it this far here's my shayla ❤️‍🩹

[haloslips]

last night two cherished friends and i went to the brewery for one round, met some cute dogs, went back to their place for homemade beef stew. i made it until 10:30 before i had to tap out and go home, which i'm pleased with. fell asleep before midnight, woke up at 12:08am, wished myself a happy new year and went back to sleep. got up to my alarm this morning and had brunch with jess, which i am treasuring especially because i won't see her for a few months now. walked around the city i live in and thought: you are living a life.

i never thought about what it meant to be alive. i was suicidal from a young enough age that it never made sense to envision the future. it took me a long time to figure out what living could look like once i realized i was going to do it; to figure out what i like and what i want. but i'm starting to learn.

last year i: watched the kraken shut out vegas with my dad and one of my best friends; witnessed genocide; took thirteen million cat photos (and even a few selfies); saw many inspiring vanity plates; moved into a new apartment; only got one tattoo; had covid again; cried about trevor zegras (a lot); restarted therapy; got a new job; listened to the man who killed my mom plead innocent; went to three different neopets meetups; rode a horse for the first time in years; danced with my friends, giddy and drunk, at one of their weddings; published two fanfictions; broke both my wrists at the same time; saw the northern lights twice; let my friends take care of me; won a game of scrabble; saw my favorite band live; learned many new things; failed at learning some things

the best advice i ever got was that life doesn't get easier, but you get better at doing it. when i first heard it i could only think about everything i had to endure, but i realized that you don't just get better at bad things. you get better at the things you practice.

i've always liked the practice of affirmations, and upon reflection these past few weeks i decided it was time for some new ones. so, for as long as i need them, here's what i came up with:

you are allowed to take up space

you are capable

you will be okay

you are safe

you have time

this year i will: have as much fun as possible by my own standards; be vulnerable even when it isn't rewarded; use my hands to create something beautiful; cry about trevor zegras; listen to so much new music; see as many of the people i love as possible; experience the epic highs and lows of seattle sports fandom; get so fucking goofy with it; miss my mom; let my friends take care of me; act intentionally; cook something new; get nervous when philipp grubauer posts insta stories from gasworks park; celebrate new milestones; take a bunch of pictures; apply for grad school; watch new movies and read new books; appreciate as much as possible; watch as the world keeps ending; rejoice as the world goes on

[nihilnovisubsole]

hey, gang! miss me? no? too bad, because i miss you. i think about you all the time. i hope the year has treated you well. this is, what, the third, fourth year i've done a year-in-review post? have i done more than that? it's after midnight. i can't be bothered to check. i fear a lot of the mysteries of getting older, but i will say, i don't mind that it's easier to shrug certain things off. i look back on all the times i hid from some scary fandom discourse and go, "god, why did i care?" it helps to have other things going on.

on the other hand, i guess 2024 was the year of finding out what happens when you put everything into your day job and leave nothing for the weekend. it was a wild year at work, which i assume is normal as a game ramps up to ship. i gave a lot, which was good! i'd be lying if i said it didn't take a lot out of me. important people at trade shows have now seen things i wrote! i got to work with voice actors! good news: a lot of your faves are great people! i also made, like, no progress on any of my own projects except the picrew, which i still chip away at. yes, i still draw. more on that later.

one or two people in my coworkers-turned-friends circle have broached the subject of occupational burnout and whether i've reached it yet. as i said last year, i remember what voltage burnout felt like, and it took a much weirder, angrier journey to get me there. it's kind that they're looking out for me, though. i think it's something all creative people could stand to keep an eye on. a buddy of mine even gave a GDC talk about it. it's a shame GDC is so stingy with access to its talks. at least this article has a great summary if you're interested in learning more.

there were other things, though. my mother broke her hip in june, which forced me into a caregiver role that i'm not suited to. don't worry, she's fine now. i love her, so it was important to me, but it didn't leave a lot of time to sit and write for fun. i started what i thought would be a casual fanfic project, wildly over-scoped it, and made a ton of work for myself. i outlined an original story about a difficult, personal subject and a culture i'm descended from, but not really familiar with. there's a lot of pressure to do it right, is what i'm saying. i'm taking the only path i can think of, which is to bury myself in research. the trouble is, a lot of the literature about this time and place is also very challenging, so it burns a lot of brain calories. it's a far cry from what usually gets me to start a story, which is "i want these characters to sleep together. let's see where it goes."

in a different time, i would've taken this struggle as an omen that i wasn't the right person to write this story and abandoned it. it's critical that i don't take the coward's way out this time if i'm going to honor the question i asked at the end of last year. "what is my work saying?" my mother told me the same thing a few months ago: "i think you're a good writer, you just need to find good things to say." i take that to mean i have to write closer to real experiences, which means including the parts i don't like: disappointment, loss, mistakes, uncertainty. i had all of this year to figure out how, and the evidence shows i didn't. i don't know what to say. "oh well?" maybe you can't put a deadline on these things. in the meantime, hercule and aida deserve more stories (it's an hercule and aida story), and i want more people to know about them, and maybe i can say something real through them.

this was also the year that i reckoned with the other side of "all it takes is money to make problems go away." i was able to travel, i mean really travel, for the first time. all it took was being able to throw a chunk of my salary at it. i had some shipping drama [sorry, not the romantic kind] where i had no choice but to pony up a ton of customs fees. my arm PT didn't work, so i'll have to try a specialist who's out of my insurance network and pay full price to see them. this must be what they call "being a successful adult." i thought it'd look different. i wanted to live in the city and have a hot, mysterious boyfriend. well, i can still live closer to the city if i keep saving up for that house, and maybe some hot, mysterious guy will take pity on me someday. do you think they like 32-year-olds who play video games and have flat chests? i went all the way to paris and still didn't find out. damn! 🤌

nah, i'm kidding. i mean, i'm not, but i have other things to worry about. as i mentioned above, things with my arm have taken a curious turn. after six and a half years of assuming i had tendinitis, i found out, not only is it likely not that, i may not be injured at all. the particulars of this theory get out into the weeds of neuromuscular science, so i'll only bore you with them if you want me to. the point is, if any of it holds water, it would go a long way toward explaining why none of the typical rest/heat/stretching/strengthening protocols have worked. it's actually unfathomable how much effort i've put into solving this mystery just so i can get back to drawing fictional people kissing. you can call my creative work boring or predictable or whatever you want, but never say i haven't committed to the bit.

i don't tend to read my previous years-in-review. this year, i did, because i sensed i was grappling with a lot of the same things as last year. there's nothing i hate like being repetitive. not that you would know from the way i keep writing the same three character archetypes. humor me here. i was all set to keep whining until i reminded myself how 2023 had gone, and i thought, "geez. it wasn't that bad." nobody i love died, for a start. my health is better. i have some unread books sitting around. as terrible as 2023 was, i survived it. if you're reading this, you did too.

so here's what i'm going to do. i think you should do it with me, though whether i'm in any position to give advice is up to you. i'm not going to make any predictions about whether 2025 will be bad or good. i'm just going to see what happens. deal? all right. we'll check in next year. you'd better be there!

[queenofcthulu]

So I just went through 52 audiobooks in 2023 so let's see what recommendations I can provide. The first few are going to be historical dramas and kind of sad and filled with trauma because I started reading the books at the top of The Most Controversial Books lists BUT their narrators were phenomenal.

This is a very long list, I hope you find something you like from it. Good luck!

1. The audiobook for Bluest Eye is read by Toni Morisson (the author) and she delivers it beautifully. I'm convinced authors who are brave enough or picky enough to narrate their own books are built different and it shows.

2. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston was a beautiful story of a woman and her journey of love in the 1800s(?) and Ruby Dee does a pheonomal job as the narrator.

3. The Color Purple by Alice Walker, another love story but with a queer twist, roughly in the same time period. She narrated it herself, and my god she does the widest range of accents for a while I was convinced that there was more than one narrator in this book. Or that was Ruby Dee? You'll have to excuse me my memory is very poor and the books were just similar enough that I get them mixed up.

So with my top three best suggestions out of the way I can offer more variety. If you have questions or looking for "similar to" books just let me know. These are listed in the order I read them, I'd recommend any of these but it depends on what the reader's style is to determine if it's a good recommendation.

4. Lolita by Vladimir Nobakov, read by Jeremy Irons (pedophilia is a very difficult subject to read about and it's representation in this is controversial already and Jeremy Irons is very good at narrating it's almost scary, so take caution definitely not for everyone)

5. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier, read by Frank Muller (slice of catholic school life, coming of age, I found it fun and the narrator was very convincing when a character was talking on the phone while eating a sandwich and that tickled me)

6. The Once and Future Witches by Alix Harrow, read by Gabra Zack an (fantasy, story about three sisters I read cuz I thought it mirrored my family, it was a decent story but I'm not a fan of fantasy much but you might be)

7. Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, read by himself (it's about a kid and his father and the trauma of the history of Afghanistan and his childhood friend and it's very good, but very sad, so read it if you have the emotional space for it cuz it certainly drained me)

8. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride, read by Dominic Hoffman (it's technically a period drama but it feels less grounded in realism than the rest, that didn't stop it from being a damn good story)

9. The Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao, read by Rong Fu (if you like fantasy and you liked Pacific Rim then this is the book for you, the sequel just came out and I plan on reading it also. I'm American and while I have issues remembering names in general, I did struggle more to keep all the characters separate because the characters are based on historical Chinese figures, most notably the only female Chinese Emperor but I mixed up the names constantly so I had to go back and read it twice which I didn't mind)

10. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, read by Betty Harris (I didn't particularly like this narrator but the story was good enough to read despite it. It's 1984 but better. I haven't seen the Amazon show yet but heard it was good. This book on its own is a bit of a heavy book, but it's made worse by the parallelisms to modern political climates intentionally and expertly done by the author because she based it on true news headlines form the 1970s(?) so it was good but genuinely shook me to the core)

11. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Niel Gaiman, read by himself (it was whimsical and reminded me a bit of Wrinkle In Time in a way, would probably make a good movie, I didn't particularly enjoy it but I needed some not serious books on this list...)

12. Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche by Haruki Murakami, read by Feodor Chin, Ian Anthony Dale and Janet Song (Welp back to the serious stuff...if you like documentaries I would recommend this book. It's an oral history which means it's less about the facts and more about the opinions and experiences of people, it's direct interviews with victims, it taught me a lot and was done well. My only regret is not knowing Japanese because the English version only translated half the interviews and I'd have happily listened to more.)

13. Babel by R. F. Kuang, read by Chris Lew Kum Hoi and Billie Fulford-Brown (period fantasy, language magic, I enjoyed it but wanted it to be more educational lol but that's just me, I do recommend it)

Uhhh I'm running out of energy to recall descriptions or comments for all these books so I'm just gonna go rapid fire on these and you'll have to figure them out yourself.

14. The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

15. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

16. The Book Theif by Markus Zusak

17. The Rose Code by Kate Quinn

18. Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

19. The Women by Kristin Hannah

20. The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman

And finally, some books that do not have audiobooks (either because they were unavailable to me or the book is formatted in a way that reading it doesn't make sense, or would defeat the purpose of the formatting) but I would encourage anyone to read someday.

21. Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes

22. Piranesi by Susanna Clark

23. Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote (I read this with rose colored glasses because I love Audrey Hepburn so take this with a grain of salt)

any more audiobook recommendations ppplllleeaaassseeee 😖😖🥺

[trans-yllz]

haha grief truly is hidden in all of the little things (<- almost texted his mom to tell her about taking the permit test tomorrow)

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

it's probably the sunnier weather that's doing stuff to my brain to make me more optimistic but it's so interesting having a brain that craves a lot of self-fulfillment to the point where I can move past some hang-ups around perfection by going "oh I really wanna do that though" and then I do it well because researching how to do it right is also a rewarding part of the process

[deus-ex-mona]

it’s ✨okay✨, right~?

[raeathnos]

.

[crystalkitty1220]

Might have to scrap a fic idea because I thought the panic that came with time moving too slowly or too quickly was a universal thing, but now I'm realizing I probably have chronophobia and the fic might not feel the same to other people. Don't want it to drag on or feel rushed if readers won't get the same kind of anxiety the character's getting.

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

.