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caninescreations · 2 months ago

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Nine Years, Nine Months, and Nine Days

it's late so i'll edit the post later and make an AO3 link when im not sososo so sleepy. no title BUT i did piggyback this idea off that one anon who proposed cat!stan but back in New Jersey to @dark-lord-of-awesomeness and i was like... "yeah i can take a crack at that"

creative liberties taken with the premise, though, and absolutely NONE of this is beta read. did it all in two late-night sessions. you get spellcheck and that's about it, baybee

1963 Stanford and his brother were nine when it happened. There had been an old woman on the boardwalk, layered in crocheted shawls and cardigans despite the muggy September weather, her snow-white hair pulled tight in a braided bun at the top of her head like a head of cauliflower. She had the sort of puckered face that belonged to people who don't know what smiling is, and probably never did, and she had been parked square on a bench where the sand met the street, tossing breadcrumbs to seagulls that hovered in the air around her but did not seem to want to land. By her side was a carpet bag almost as big as she was, sitting open and overfilling with myriad items. Sheafs of patterned papers, browning flowers, one iridescent beetle that tried to clamber out before her wrinkled hands nudged it back inside.

He thinks it was the beetle, really, that started it. The both of them had been so fixated on its size and color, and so confused as to why an old woman would even have a bug in her bag. Stanford wanted to examine it, to see if it was a species he knew. Stanley just wanted to know how heavy it was, and maybe if it could fly, too.

"If she catches me," Stanley had said with a clever grin, a small crab cradled expertly in his palm, "then I'll just say I saw a crab tryn'a nab her snacks."

Stanford had nodded along, agreed with the logic.

The old woman had been keener than either of them had expected, though. Stanley's arm had only gone elbow-deep into the bag, barely time to root around for the beetle, when her bony fingers had snatched him up and pulled him to front, too fast for Stanford to intervene.

"Thieving little paws best keep to themselves, young man."

"I wasn't thievin' nothing!" Stanley had protested. "I- I saw a crab in your purse. Thought it woulda scared you out of your old-lady skin like a cartoon skeleton if you saw it."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" She'd let him go, then, his wrist red from the force of her grip. "Such a considerate little thing ought to be rewarded as he deserves."

She'd produced from her sleeve then something small and shiny that crinkled. A piece of candy, sort of brownish from what the two of them could see through the white waxed paper wrapping.

"Here," she said.

"Wait, really?" Stanley asked, accepting the candy as any nine-year-old would. "People don't usually thank me for rootin' through their stuff without asking."

"People don't usually keep live animals in their bags, either." She scattered another handful of crumbs along the ground, and the birds continued to not land.

"Fair enough. Say, you don't happen to have an extra, do ya? I got a brother, see, and hard candies don't split easy enough to share."

"This one is just for you," she had smiled. Then her sweet tone dropped. "Now scoot. I've got birds to bait."

And Stanley had.

He didn't end up splitting the candy in the end- one bite had revealed its flavor as toffee, and while Stanford never minded accepting a spit-covered hemisphere of hardball sugar, he hadn't been in the mood for that particular taste that particular day. On top of that, it had been sort of sticky-on-the-outside in the way that only really old candy got, and Stanford hated feeling it on his teeth. So Stanley ate the whole thing, chattering on with it tucked in his cheek as they returned to the beach and played on the wrecked boat they'd found earlier that summer. The mugginess continued late into the afternoon, until the clouds grew heavy with rain and threatened to spill down upon them.

And then, he remembered, something happened. Stanley had curled over onto himself, groaning in discomfort. Lightning flashed above them. Stanford had crouched with his hand on his brother's back, trying to soothe what he thought was a simple stomach-ache. But then his brother was coughing, and retching, and convulsing on all fours on the sand like something was trying to crawl out of him. The sky opened up and began to pour out onto the beach like a vertical tidal wave, and his brother got smaller, smaller, smaller- until sitting under his hand, curly-furred and yowling, was a little kitten.

=== 1964 Stanford was sitting underneath the table on the floor, sulkily poking at his peas and mashed potatoes. In the next room over, Ma and Pa were arguing again. He could hear their muffled voices through the walls. Beside him, on the floor, Stanley sat eating Stanford's portion of the evening's meatloaf. It had been a long time since his transformation, but his brother was still kitten-sized, all doe-eyed and chubby in a way that kept their mom cooing and their father acquiescent to any cat-related shenanigans.

"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Caryn- I'm not letting a cat eat at the table like its a person!"

"Stanford is grieving, Filbrick!"

"He's mental, that's what he is! And you keep feeding into it, letting him convince himself that his brother isn't gone! He needs to accept reality, he needs to move on, and he can't do that if you keep indulging him like this!"

"Move on? Move on-?! Filbrick, Stanley is missing, not dead!"

"It's been a year, Caryn. What do you think happens to little boys who are lost for that long, huh? They don't come strolling in through the front door, that's for sure! We're not gonna let him coast by on false hope."

Stanford tuned them out. His brother finished eating and mewled quietly, crawling into his lap and pawing at his shirt. Stanley couldn't talk, but Stanford had gotten a book from the library about Morse code, and though his teeny kitten body was still a little wobbly, he could get a short and misspelled message or two out. It's how they'd settled on the name currently adorning Stanley's collar, when it became clear that their parents weren't willing to listen. Archer, after the giant lady from his brother's favorite poster.

"No, I'm okay, really," Stanford said. "If Pa won't let you eat at the table, I'll just eat on the floor. You can have half of my dinner, and then you won't have to eat the cat food. I know it must be gross."

The purring he got in response let him know without it needing to be spelled out that he'd said the right thing.

=== 1965 Stanford planted his face in his hands and groaned. "That does it. I've read every book in the public library, and there is nothing about magic curses. I hate it here." From his backpack Stanley crawled, chirping as he swiped at the used stack of books to Stanford's left as if to agree. He was steady now, if still ridiculously small. "We may have to take our research excursion beyond the reaches of Glass Shard Beach. We might even have to take a bus."

Stanley clicked out a short word.

"Well of course I'm gonna hide you. We might not need money for two tickets but they don't let animals on the bus. My backpack's fine, isn't it?"

…A reluctantly-chirped 'yes'.

"We'll figure this out, Stanley. I know it's… been a little while," if two and a half years even counted as such, both the summer and their birthday coming in hot, "but I've got your back."

=== 1966 "If you don't shut up about the cat I'm getting it put down," Filbrick snapped. "It's not Stanley. It's never been Stanley. It is a cat. It eats kibble and shits in a box. Your brother ran off and got himself kidnapped or murdered and now you're imagining things because you can't face the truth like a man. So either cut the crap and get your head screwed on, or Archer gets the boot. Am I understood?"

Stanford took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped the animal in his arms more tightly. It wiggled uncomfortably, but rather than yowl in complaint as it usually liked to, it curled its tail up under itself and pressed into his belly like it was trying to hide there, claws curling into the black suit jacket.

"Stanford Filbrick Pines, look at me when I'm talking to you. Am I understood?"

"…Yes, Pa. I understand."

Filbrick shook his head and grit his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. "Twelve freakin' years old and still acting like magic is real. You're disrespecting your brother's memory with all this nonsense."

=== 1967 Stanford sat at his desk, staring at the stack of cards wishing him a happy thirteenth birthday. He was a man now, technically, having muddled his way awkwardly through his passage in the torah, wishing Stanley had been there to cut through the thick tension with a quip and a smile. But Stanley wasn't here. It was only him and Archer.

His hand ran along his cat's back, carding out a few knots from its curly fur as his eyes bore holes into the cardstock.

"You're just a cat," he muttered to himself, a repetitive chant he'd forced himself to learn after Pa's outburst at the funeral last year. Anything to keep Archer from being taken away. "A very smart cat, but a cat nonetheless. Magic isn't- magic doesn't happen in Glass Shard Beach. I was a confused little kid who missed his brother too much."

=== 1968 Stanford, fourteen, sat with his homework in the shade of the Stan o' War, its rotting deck letting in beams of hot sunlight through the woodworm-eaten holes in the wood. Archer was lounging beside him, stretched out in the sand with its paws kneading the air contentedly. Its tail flicked back and forth lazily as it rumbled like a car engine, loud and grounding.

"A kitten!" He startled at the girlish squeal, nose lifting from his book to find some vaguely-familiar young woman in a swim skirt and sandals whose name escaped him. "Stanford, I didn't know you were a cat person- is he yours?"

"Er, yes. Though Archer isn't really a kitten. It's just small. I think it might be a breed of munchkin cat."

"That's pretty groovy," she said, crouching down and reaching out for a petting.

"Ah, I wouldn't-" Stanford began, trying to warn her off. But Archer had already rolled to its feet and hissed, shaking the sand off its body in the girl's direction and trotting with a huff to his side. He chuckled nervously as she brushed the sand from her arms, saying, "Sorry about that. It doesn't really like other people- just me and my family. My cat is kind of protective like that."

"Aw, a regular little man of the house, ain't he?" the girl cooed at it, maintaining her distance. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal your pet boy. I just thought a cutie like you might appreciate a woman's touch."

"I'm not sure that Archer is interested in interior design," Stanford said.

"I was talking about giving him a good scratch behind the ear," she laughed. "Though if it's interior design we're talking about, that boat could use some. I've seen you hang around this old thing for years, and you ain't ever done anything with it."

"Ah, well. It's a quiet place to think," Stanford mumbled, drawing circles into the ground with his littlest finger and rather wishing to get back to his homework the more the girl made it apparent that he was woefully behind on his half of the social upkeep. "It doesn't need to be anything more than that."

"A quiet place, huh? Was I interrupting your alone time?" she asked, getting back to her feet. Archer meowed indignantly at her, and she amended, "Ah. Right, I'm sorry. Can't be alone if you've got Archer, can you?"

"…No, I suppose I can't," Stanford replied, a small smile warming his expression.

=== 1969 "What do I need a car for, Pa? Everything in this town is close enough to walk to." Stanford followed his father outside to the back lot, Archer close at his heels. His father stopped at the car- not the family car, they never went anywhere that required a vehicle to get to, and Pa seemed only to ever use it to get larger big-ticket items for the pawn shop or to get to those secret society meetings he went to every month- and held out the key.

"Whether or not you get your nose out of those books of yours long enough to actually earn the scratch to get your own car is irrelevant. Driving is a skill no man can do without. Now get behind the driver's seat- you're gonna learn how to drive stick. None of that namby-pamby automatic transmission garbage they're rolling out these days."

"Of course, Pa." Stanford opened the door and unlocked the passenger side as he slipped into the seat. Archer hopped in immediately, hopping nimbly from his lap, to his shoulder, and then out of the way and into the back seat.

"And put that damn cat back inside, I don't want it making a mess in my car."

"Archer has never once urinated or defecated in your car, Pa. It's a smart cat, it knows what it can and can't get away with."

"And it's not gonna start now! It already thinks it owns the house, I'm not letting it ruin my upholstery."

"It doesn't cause any trouble," Stanford tried to say.

"No trouble, eh? No trouble when it won't eat the cat food I shell out for, no trouble when it scratches up your bed posts and the good sheets, no trouble when it keeps getting into the fridge and eating the pastrami!"

"That was one time!"

"I paid good money for that pastrami!"

"And I paid you back for it!"

"It's about the principal of the thing, Stanford. If you don't teach that cat some respect it's gonna walk all over you."

Stanford neglected to mention the multiple occasions during which his napping father could be found with Archer in his lap, one wide hand set on its rumbling side without complaint.

"Can we just start the driving lesson?"

Filbrick shook his head. "Not until that cat is out of this car."

Stanford let his head drop onto the steering wheel and groaned.

=== 1970 When Stanford came home from school that day, Ma had been cradling Archer like a baby and smothering the poor thing's head with kisses. Archer, in contrast to its reactions to other displays of over-affections by strangers, was purring loudly with tightly-shut eyes even with her thick rouge smeared into the fur on its head.

"What's going on here?" asked Stanford, setting his bag down on the coffee table. It thumped with books, but the new straps held their weight well.

"We've got a little hero here," Ma told him, fingers scritching underneath the cat's chin. "I was havin' a client over to do an in-house reading on account of she was willing to pay more, and your cat caught her tryna steal the jewelry from my nightstand while I was in the bathroom. Ran her right outta the house, he did! Ain't that right, Archer?"

It let out a self-satisfied meow, brash and loud, and snuggled more into her arms.

=== 1971, April Stanford did something he hadn't done in years that night, and curled up on the mattress of the bottom bunk. The pamphlet for West Coast Tech was crumpled between his hands, the paper already half-ripped. He kept his eyes trained on the far wall, mind carefully blank as the poster for 'Attack of the Fifty-Foot Tall Woman' stared back at him. Quiet as a church-mouse, Archer leapt onto the bed and crawled under his arm to nestle against his chest. He could feel it rumbling quietly, its thick and curly fur shedding onto his wrinkled clothes.

"I made a fool of myself today," he admitted to it. "Stumbled over my speech to the recruiters and bumped the table. The whole machine broke down, just like that, and then they left. My one ticket out of Glass Shard Beach, gone like dust in the wind because I couldn't properly deliver a formal presentation in front of an audience."

Archer nosed under his chin, and he let his fingers release the pamphlet in order to card through its pelt. There was no judgement from it- never had been, not since he'd adopted it from the streets in the wake of his brother's disappearance. A strange thing, small as a kitten for ages, growing so slowly that it was only through pictures that anyone in the house had noticed it had grown at all. Nine years, enough for any cat to be considered old, and still as spry as a cat one-ninth of its age. But still just a cat at the end of it all. Long-lived through good caretaking and scraps of meat slipped under the table at dinner time. Loyal as a dog and twice as crafty.

"At least you don't care that I'm a failure," he mumbled. "Not that that will change Pa's reaction when he finds out I blew it."

Archer lifted a paw and smacked his face. There was a lot of force behind it, though the cat had miraculously decided not to use its claws. It meowed directly into his ear, and squirmed from his grip. He didn't move, more confused than anything else, as it jumped to the floor and trotted to his desk, which was currently still covered in papers. He knew it liked to play with his work, but only after he'd been sitting and thinking for hours on his own.

He watched it sniff around, its little paws digging scrap paper and notes onto the floor before it found something that seemed to catch its attention. It nudged the paper to the center of the desk, sat down on its haunches, and yowled at him. Stanford groaned- Archer was a chatty cat at the best of times, but when it yowled it wouldn't stop until he'd come to see what it wanted or his Pa came in to yell about the noise.

Not wanting to face the man this soon after the most humiliating day of his life, Stanford dragged himself out of the bottom bunk with a sigh and shuffled over to see what his cat was fussing over. It was an empty college application, one of many he'd been handed by his guidance counselor to fill out "just in case" his first choice fell through. Just looking at it made his stomach churn, the idea of going through all that effort of applying to somewhere only half as good and still getting a rejection letter swirling around in his mind's eye until he snatched up the page and crumpled it in his hands in a fit of anger.

When it was no more than a tightly-wadded ball in his hands, Stanford dropped it to the ground and sat aggressively at the desk. His elbows hit the table and his fingers found their way into his thick, curly hair to yank and tug his frustrations out. Archer made a little wheezy huff, hitting the floor with a thud and returning back to the desk after just a moment. When he bothered to look up, his cat dropped the paper from its mouth and pawed at it, leaning in close to his face and yowling loudly at him once more.

"What, you think I should keep trying? Do you want me to get on my hands and knees and go campus to campus, getting the door slammed in my face?"

Archer bopped him in the nose with a paw and hissed in displeasure. The clever cat always seemed to be able to tell when he was putting himself down, and refused to indulge him whenever he did. Just like-

He looked back down at the crumpled application and began the process of gently un-crumpling it. With a sigh, he grumbled, "Well. If I fill them out, at least Pa can't get mad that I'm 'not trying hard enough'. What do you think the statistical likelihood of getting a full-ride scholarship is for a freak from a backwater New Jersey town?"

Archer slammed its head into his cheek before it bit him.

=== 1971, June

He was passing his parent's bedroom when, through the open crack in the door, he overheard their conversation. Stanford stood still against the wall, hands still dripping wet from the bathroom.

"Whaddya want me to do, huh, Caryn? It's a cat. I'm not gonna let Stanford ruin his own future just because he can't follow a simple dorm rule!"

Ma sighed, "It's not like he'd have t' hide it forever, Fil. That poor animal's almost ten, it'll probably pass away before too much longer."

"Then we keep it here and get it put down while he's away," Pa replied. "He can cry and moan about it when the semester's over."

"Filbrick!"

"What? You're tellin' me you wanna watch that thing limp around like our last one? We'd be doing it a favor."

Stanford chanced a peek through the door, trying to catch sight of either of them.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm saying our son's been through enough! Let him have the cat. Let him take it to college with him." Caryn gestured as she spoke, the smoke from her cigarette trailing after her hand like a record of the motions. "At the very least let him be around to watch it die. Give him some closure for it? Honestly, Fil, the kid's leaving to start summer classes tomorrow. Summer classes! I didn't even know colleges did that. He'll be workin' himself like a dog, I know he will. At least the cat'll make sure he pulls his head out of his books long enough to eat and sleep."

Her tone was pointed, and Stanford saw Pa grit his teeth and massage his brow with one hand. "Fine. We'll keep the damn thing fed while he's away. But it's not going with him. I'm putting my foot down on that. He'll be eighteen tomorrow, a full-grown man. And full-grown men do not need fluffy little animals to make 'em feel better about their feelings."

Stanford clenched his fists and moved away from the door, the single slice of birthday cake he'd forced himself to eat sitting heavy in his stomach. He wouldn't leave his only friend behind.

…Admittedly, he should've known that trying to hide Archer in his coat when it was mid-June was not one of his smarter ideas.

"Gimme that damn cat, you're not taking it with you-"

There was an odd popping sound, a sparkling flash of light, and then the twelve-pound terror that Pa had been scruffing became instead two-hundred-and-ten. There was a rip, a yelp, and the three remaining members of the Pines family stared down at the fresh heap of limbs on the ground between them. Pa stared, agog, his fist still clenched. Between his fingers was half of a shirt, well-worn, with white and red stripes.

There was a human teenager on the ground, wearing the other half of the shirt and the tatters of an outfit meant for a child about a third his size. This teenager- a doughy-looking white boy wearing Stanford's own face with hair long enough to cover what the clothing scraps couldn't- looked up at the three of them with a sort of blank, uncomprehending confusion. Stanford could relate to that.

"St- Stuhh- St-" he stuttered out through his paling, sweaty face.

"Stanley…?" Ma warbled. The cigarette in her hand dropped to the floor and started to scorch a hole in the worn carpeting. Pa didn't even chide her- he, too, was staring down at the carbon copy on the floor where once was a cat named Archer. No-longer-Archer looked between the three of them, then down to the pair of calloused hands that now belonged to him. He looked back up, locking eyes with Stanford for a brief instant before flicking his gaze away and croaking out a one-worded question.

"M-ma?" His mouth moved like he couldn't quite remember how words worked. His limbs, too, twitched like they were used to a much more restrictive range of motion, pulled in close to the chest like paws.

"My baby boy-!" Caryn collapsed to her knees, her shaking hands reaching out and clutching Not-Archer by the face. Her fingers cradled his cheeks, turning his head this way and that, and he let her, limp like Archer went whenever Ma scooped it up. "You- where'd you come from? How are you-? Why were you-?"

She stopped trying to speak, then, letting out a pained and aching sound when-- Stanley, sweet Moses, his brother! Not a cat, never a cat-- he managed to get his arms around her shoulders and hold her back. She clutched him tight and began to cry.

"I knew it." Stanford's voice was flat. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and his hands came up to clutch at his arms. "I knew it. I knew it the whole time, and I-" he took a sharp breath inward. "I let everyone tell me I was crazy. I let you tell me I was crazy!" His head turned sharp to Pa, then, that haunted look hardening to icy stone.

"I watched my brother get turned into a cat! I asked for help- I begged for it! And you were gonna put him down!"

Pa snapped his jaw shut. "Your cat just turned into a naked hippie and your first thought is pointing fingers at me?"

"His name is Stanley!" Stanford shouted, clutching the air like he wanted to strangle something. His fingers twitched, all twelve of them, and he threw his arms out wide as he laid everything out. "He's my brother! He's your son! You said he went missing! You made us hold a funeral for him! He's here right in front of us but you won't admit that even though you're holding his shirt!"

And Pa looked at the scrap of fabric still held in his hand. When he opened his clenched fingers, he could see the care tag on the inside of the collar. Stitched there in his wife's blocky embroidery with cheap black thread in all capital letters was his missing son's name.

"I-" all at once, the man looked at a loss. The taught line of his shoulders seemed to sag, millimeter by millimeter. Hoarsely, Pa mumbled out something that Stanford, in a million years, would never have bet a cent on hearing. "I don't know what's happening."

"Sixer?" Stanford looked down to the ground, where his brother was wrapped tightly in their mother's arms. "I-is this real? Can you understand me?"

His knees and expression both crumpled. Bruising his tailbone on the ground, he reached out and clutched at one of Stanley's hands, lacing them together and squeezing with all his might just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Stanley squeezed back, strong despite his lack of coordination.

"Stanley…" Stanford murmured. "Stanley, I'm so sorry- All this time you were counting on me, and I- I convinced myself that I imagined everything. I was a fool- I've been a horrible brother-"

"Hey." Stanley was looking at him with a stormy gaze- anger, bitterness from years of being ignored, likely, and why wouldn't he be? Stanford had all but abandoned him in his time of need, left him to languish for years under an unsolvable curse- His brother slapped his face with an open palm. It stung a lot more than the paw did. "Quit bein' a dick to yourself."

Stanford blinked, and then began to laugh. It wasn't a funny laugh- or, rather, it was a laugh that was funny-sounding. Of all the things for Stanley to say to him right off the bat, of anything for which his brother would take advantage of that most precious of human abilities, chiding him for self-flagellation was the least anticipated. And yet, when Stanford remembered Archer, remembered when his brother was last human, he couldn't imagine anything else.

He joined their mother in the hug, arms wrapping around both Stanley and her as he buried his hysterical laughter into his brother's thick, curly hair and sagged in relief.

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #filbrick pines #caryn pines #nine years au

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random-non-shower-thoughts · 5 months ago

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Write with your heart, edit with your inner critic and ears

My last two post have been more from the heart, but I think more people need actual editing advice like I have talked about in a previous thought post. Like I said there, plenty of teachers and professors have no issues talking about writing and formulating and drafting works. I only know of one professor over all my years of writing that I can recall with 99% certainty that taught us useful tips for editing.

And I will say that like writing, there's no one size fits all, because nobody writes the same as anyone else--or even themselves as they hone and improve their skills. A lot should be based on what vibe you want to create and what is needed for the work/chapter/draft you are focusing on.

But if nothing else, there's three things you want to focus on:

Spelling and punctuation as fitting for the message you want to convey

Formatting to make it readable and to improve the message

And most importantly: READING THE WORK ALOUD BEFORE PUBLISHING

The last one is what I don't see talked about enough, and was reminded by a community post recommended for me (I will never follow them, they're impossible to share and most seem like a waste of time), so I decided to expand on it in a more shareable format.

(Note: I believe that doing this with your own voice or text to speech are equally helpful. Sometimes you want to go at your own pace and use voices. Maybe you have to have another voice to notice things. Both work to reach the same goal of polishing your writing!)

I am going start by saying that there's times when you can tell a piece could have used an extra pass by how it reads. There's often weird turn of phrases and spelling that is not obtrusive but makes you pause (and I will be the first to say I want readers to tell me if they catch these for whatever reason, even the less error prone machine still lets flecks of misspellings and pebbles of forgotten commas). The missing period that makes two sentences become a long run-on sentence that technically makes sense.

The editing is on the surface sufficient, but missing a last pass that could buff out a final draft and have you read it later when more experienced with pride. And without asking why you forgot something so obvious, or why you worded it that way. (I love looking at outstanding line from old works, I often laugh at how even my spicy stuff can have a raw scene outside of the bedroom).

One of the best ways I found, after formatting and spellchecking and double-checking the right words are used, is to give it a final read out loud! Yes, I can understand that you might ask why it has to be out loud when you already went over it so many times, and the editing software and you not say it's fine. And that's exactly why. Things that a computer might say is good might not be the right wording for the story. You might have changed something to get the sentence to make sense but it ruined the actual mood, or you added something that is out of character. An extra adjective you thought worked didn't actually fit and you forgot to hit delete. There's so many times I have changed something because I wasn't satisfied with the flow and just didn't backspace enough during a much earlier draft and it slipped through till the final pass while I read it aloud.

Or--and this is a big one for me--reading it out loud made me realize that it won't work at all. Not due to anything technical or because the section makes no sense. Just something about having it spoken out loud awakens my inner critic to an issue I didn't notice until now. A whole paragraph might finally show it can be cut and make a transition easier. A sentence might be deleted because it was more distracting fluff and I see it should be deleted (no matter how nice it worked in my head). Or if not gone, it was in the wrong spot. Now I have to read it out loud, word by word, I can paste a section in a better place and change the whole flow.

I've seen people talk about how they use text to speech to see if something goes on for too long and know when to stop by how it starts to distort it's voice to keep going. You can do the same too.

By reading aloud, you'll at last understand the readers' plight of flowery purple prose by struggling to catch your breath. Suffer while the TTS malfunctions from you using too many adjectives about the MC in the mirror. See if maybe you can change that comma or em dash into a period or semicolon. Play with different voices and see if that fanfic about your favorite character sounds OOC or you are really that good at getting inside their head. See how the words fit as you get a fresh perspective, watching them fall into place like puzzle pieces while observing how each flows like a poetic melody.

It is all experience for when you write that next chapter or work. Sure, it's not as intense as typing it all out, but it's not like you're not learning from it. Editing is writing too; what you master here can translate to better writing next time, and a cleaner first draft in the future. (Like I've said before, you'll never have a perfect first draft, but you can write a clean first draft to make it easier for yourself.)

Just remember, writing is supposed to be as good as you are today, and never a suffering contest. Not every aspect of it will be exciting but do not force yourself to make it more difficult than you can handle. If I am miserable, I am not creative, and this is true for so many; and if anyone tells you that makes someone a fake/poser/imposter, ignore them. If they like being sad to write a depressed and angsty character, that is their method alone. Editing does not have to be a slog, but it should be something you put effort in to so the final product is something you are proud of.

Listen to the fun writing voice when you are outlining and writing, and unleash the inner critic when you edit. Both are there for a reason.

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing advice #writing tips #editing tips #inner critic #The inner critic is good for editing #Do not trust the inner critic for writing #It wants to twist words not play like your writing brain

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the960writers · 2 months ago

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by Michael Brockbank

Reedsy Book Editor

Atticus

Scrivener 3

Campfire Writing

AutoCrit

Grammarly

What Features Do I Look For in Writing Apps?

Every author finds value in different features. The best writing apps are the ones that work for you. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with using programs like Word or LibreOffice to write a manuscript.

Yet, I chose the above based on the criteria I’m looking for in a writing tool.

Setting Writing Goals

I love creating goals and challenges in my writing. It’s one of the ways that I keep myself motivated and determined to finish certain projects and meet self-imposed deadlines.

Goals can also help you build confidence, especially if you’re consistently meeting them and then raising the bar.

Taking Notes and Storyboarding

The ability to have notes displayed on the same screen as the manuscript is wondrous, in my opinion. I often forget a lot of details as I write, and having a pinned note in plain site helps me remember.

In addition, any app that has some kind of storyboarding platform or background manuscript planning is incredibly useful.

Easy Sharing with Others

I like to share my work easily with beta readers or anyone who is helping me edit. Sure, I can copy and paste the manuscript into a Google Doc, but then that’s an extra step that I’ll forget to later delete.

When you’re as busy as I am, you want to simplify the process as much as possible.

Front & Back Matter and Chapter Setup

Writing apps that have pre-made, editable front and back matter are very beneficial. Especially for those who are new to self-publishing and not sure what to add to their books or how to format the pages.

If an app also has a quick and easy way to add, move, or delete entire chapters, all the better.

Export File Types Support

Although most eBook retailers and print-on-demand services support DOCX files, I prefer to have the option for ePub, MOBI, PDF, and other file types as well.

This is mostly because I plan on selling my books directly from my website. Not to mention I don’t like the idea of an editable doc floating around of my book.

Built-in Spellcheck or Support for Grammarly

No one is 100% accurate 100% of the time when it comes to spelling and grammar. Any app that has functionality for this is essentially a time saver.

If it doesn’t, then hopefully it supports the Grammarly Chrome extension. Otherwise, I’ll have to copy and paste the manuscript back and forth, which is a bit of a pain.

Affordability

Lastly, not everyone has a spare $4000 laying around for self-publishing fees. It’s my goal to find the most affordable platforms that offer the biggest bang for your buck while writing a book.

#writing software #writing tools #programs for writers #Reedsy Editor #Atticus #Scrivener #Campfire Writing #AutoCrit #Grammarly

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writers-potion · 1 year ago

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⏱︎ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ How to Write Faster! ▶️

Productivity is something that I, as a writer, have not been able to achieve for years. If you are someone who has great plans but is always defeated by your own lazy brain, let's try:

01. Writing Sprints (+pomodoro writing)

Make use of 10/15/20 minute writing sprints with a word count goal. It doesn't matter if what you write is not entirely coherent! You'll have the time to fix it in between sessions and later when you edit.

If you aren't a fan of timers going off every ten minutes, try 25-5/ 45-15/50-10 pomodoro sessions.

02. Use Music

Slap your headphones on with your favourite music.

Or even better, create a playlist that represents your story's vibe and keep it on replay.

03. Take Notes + Create an Outline

Gather notes and ideas about what you want to write beforehand to wrap your mind around the content.

Create a detailed outline of your chapter. If you need external reference, open those links before your start to avoid digging for resources in the middle of your writing session.

03. Set Specific Deadlines

Set deadlines with regular intervals. For me, I try to keep up a regular posting schedule on Wattpad so that I don't disappoint my audience (albeit small, very small)

Rather than just saying, "I'll really finish my book this year," have a breakdown of mini-goals that'll take you to the stars, step by step.

04. Enroll in a writing class/critique group

It's hard to keep yourself accountable, so this is a great way to get some external motivation.

If you need to show your writing to others, you are more likely to work harder to achieve a level of quantity and quality! They are a great source of learning nd feedback, too.

05. Remove distractions

The environment in which you write is important. Get your annoying housework done, make coffee, get the snacks you know you're going to start craving.

Keep your butt stuck to your chair as you write. If you're someone who likes the quiet, get some noise cancelling.

06. No Editing!

This is a popular one! Don't stop after every two sentences to see if your story is flowing the right way.

Save your edits for your future self.

07. Find your best time

Try to write as regularly as possible. Experiment with different times (morning? lunchtime? after dinner? before you go to bed? 3AM? - okay maybe not this one) to see which window offers the best level of concentration.

Also, look for the best place to write.

08. Play typing games (+ignore typos)

If you feel that your fingers are physically failing you, try improving the accuracy and speed of your fingers by practicising your typing games. Especially if you are someone who write in more than two langauges, improve the speed for the language you mightn't be as strong at.

Also, ignore spellchecks when you are pushing out the first draft. You can always come back to them later.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

🖱️References

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-faster

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voxofthevoid · 18 days ago

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hello hello vox! i only just saw your very helpful answer to my ask about the craft of porn—an awfully belated thank you to you ♥️

i am still marinating in my own wip but i did go reread taking the flesh (which i see has a new chapter!!!! AHH!!! i can’t wait to read it when i have time again) in between sending it to you and seeing your response. it gave me lots to think about by way of tempo and the ratio of focus on the mental vs. the physical even though i did get pulled away cartoon-bear-floating-towards-the-scent-of-pie style from my Very Intellectual Thoughts by nanami ass eating, so………..

also your reincarnated former bodyguard goyuu, in fact, did hurt me! the megumi death? coming back online for just long enough to save yuuji? i am crumpled most violently, damn you!!!

ANDDD gojou cock cage! i think about his silly, vestigial cock often 🤭 with your schedule, i imagine it’ll be at least a year before i ever get to see that foolish little thing so i will wait earnestly and tenderly for it in the meantime LMAO

my new question, although this is more of a curiosity than a bid for help (and thank you for your assurances last ask, they made me smile!), is whether you ever post fics you don’t feel completely happy with. the rate at which you write and post makes me think maybe no, but i was curious anyway.

outside of this, consider this ask an invitation to soapbox on anything or nothing. i reread the vox has opinions tag occasionally when i need the emotional equivalent of a hearty dash of pepper.

i hope you’ve been well, and that this month, the people around you, and the tentacled blob you host your consciousness in have all been kind to you ♥️

—🐀💪🏻

Welcome back 💗

I’m glad—and pleasantly surprised, ngl—that you found the reply helpful!

I am endlessly amused by the floating bear image each time I read this, but listen, being distracted from Very Intellectual Thoughts by ass-eating—and Nanami ass-eating at that—is so incredibly valid. I’m out here pelting out thousands of words of excruciatingly detailed rimming precisely in hopes of having this effect 🙏

You did ask for the hurt!! I'm glad to that I could deliver 😌

I do, in fact, have a caged-up Gojou cock in one of my currently updating WIPs, though that’s the teen!Gojou one I mentioned last time—a very different flavor than what I intend for The Cock Cage Fic. You ain’t wrong about my schedule though. Even most of what I’m writing now won’t see the light of Ao3 until well into 2026, so anything that’s to be written is up in the air. Still, one hopes!

As for your question—I do and have done that, but not for JJK. Not yet, at least. I’ve done it a fair few times in MCU. Initially, it was a couple of misbehaving fics that I finished on a “this is as good as it’ll get” note—they weren’t bad, but they didn’t become what I wanted them to be either. But I was happy enough to post them even if I wasn’t happy with them. Later on, I started clearing my backlog, which first involved editing the fics despite my waning interest and then (d)evolved into posting them unedited (i.e., just spellchecked using Grammarly, without a proper proofreading pass with my own eyes). My last-ever Bleach fic was posted similarly. Many of these are also incomplete and go up with an “abandoned work” tag. These are fics I enjoyed writing and was happy with when I finished them, but since they’re my first drafts, the quality isn’t what I’d like to offer.

It's not something I like to do, but once I’m out of not just inspiration but also interest in a fandom, it’s matter of letting the fics rot in my hard drive forever versus putting them out there for anyone who may enjoy them despite their less polished state. And if I’m fond enough of a fandom and my readers in it, I’ll opt for the latter. I tend to warn in the notes that they’re unedited and abandoned, just in case.

With JJK, I haven’t run into either situation so far. But the backlog+disinterest combo is very likely in the future given how my writing outpaces my posting. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it though! I foresee it being a pan-fandom problem for me anyway.

I am actually currently out of soapbox rants! Not for a lack of them per se but more that I’ve been ✨ chill ✨ and ✨ zen ✨ recently, so the mindset needed to really get into any of my perennial pet peeves isn’t there. I’m sure it won’t last, but for now, my most bitchy opinions are about the damn weather (kill the sun) than fandom. But it does delight me to know that you’re enjoying the existing posts in that tag!

You’re a delight, as always ♥️

Have a lovely week, my favorite rat!

#rat bruh anon #anon #i love my anons

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tavyliasin · 1 year ago

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Beta Reading FanFiction - A Guide for Readers and Writers!

Let's just start this off right away - hi there fic writers who prefer to "no beta we die like [character]"! I used to be a lot like you, but then I found that when I struggled or didn't know what to do in a piece, or my confidence in it waned entirely, the one thing that saved the fic and helped it to reach its full potential was a trusty Beta Reader or two! So, this guide will be aimed at both writers themselves and Beta Readers, and of course those who are interested in becoming both/either and want to get more of a feel for what to expect and how to be more helpful to one another with Beta Reading and editing works. Let's begin, shall we? I'll pop up a header for each section to make it easier to go over as well~

Why Use Beta Readers?

When we're writing a piece, it is very easy to get into the flow and overlook minor mistakes. Also, when we know our story inside and out, we might be forgetting to explain a plot point or set it up properly for the payoff later, and sometimes we might even be overexplaining something that is better left to the space between the lines to let the reader get a feel for it without holding their hand to every realisation. The point is, we can be too close to our works. Fresh eyes and opinions can see things that we couldn't, and a good Beta can also give you confidence back and motivation if you're struggling with block or losing faith in your style/story/ability.

Why not rely on Google/Spellcheck? Grammarly?

The automatic tools in most programs won't always pick things up that you need them to, like maybe you used the same word 3 times in one paragraph. To a reader that'll sound off, it'll break the flow, but a spell checker won't notice it at all. Sometimes, too, automated tools can make entirely incorrect suggestions. I have had them try to suggest I change words that were used and spelled perfectly into other words that did not fit the context or purpose in the slightest. No, google, they purred in her ear, not pureed. They didn't pull out a blender from nowhere... These automated tools - and particularly things like Grammarly - are also no good at all for things like style or speech patterns. They might be wonderful for professional emails or checking over an essay, but when it comes to creative writing they tend to fall far short of the mark.

How do I find Beta Readers?

Sometimes you might find willing Beta Readers amongst your audience, other times you may well need to look further afield. One method can be looking at creative communities and fandom communities for the fandom/characters you're writing about. Another could be offering a beta-swap with another writer so you help check each others' works over.

How do I offer to Beta Read or find works needing checks?

You could approach a writer directly if you want to, but you will likely find that offering to beta read for people will quickly bring up those who are looking for them. There might be fic and writing communities specifically looking for beta readers to help out. There's more often a shortage of feedback than there is a shortage of works that need it! I do, however, recommend that you keep a list of "red light topics" with your offers. Let people know the things you are not willing/able to read. Almost everyone has content types they're not comfortable engaging with for any number of reasons - you don't have to explain why, just be honest and say "I am not able to beta read works containing topics x, y, and z." Anyone demanding you give them your reasoning for not wanting to read those topics does not deserve the answer. Boundaries are there to be respected and keep us all safe.

How does it work? What do I need to set up first?

One of the easiest ways to comment and give feedback is by using Google Docs. Those of you familiar with GDocs, or those not interested in using them, can feel free to skip ahead to the next section now! When using google docs, if you are reading and commenting on peoples' works and your legal name is connected to your google email account, it is worth considering a secondary email account and google profile under your username/pseudonym to maintain your anonymity and comfort. I do this myself, I have a separate email I use for fic writing (which also helps keep my Google Drive neater!) and open the windows with the different accounts.

The black arrow there shows the profile icon that brings up this menu, then you can click the Add option at the bottom to have a new profile in your browser. I find it also helps to use the settings to colour code them, so while my main email ID uses a black colour scheme and window border, for this account I have purple. That way I know which account I'm in when I open a document to read it for someone, and keep my main email and ID separated.

When sharing your document, you'll need to decide on the level of privacy. Generally with fic I will use the option for "anyone with the link can comment" and share the link in specific discord servers with beta readers, or in other cases send it privately via DM. The upside of this is it is easy to use, and you do not need to manually approve access for anyone offering reads. The sharing menu is on the top right of your doc, and it will bring up this window for you. The first open box will allow you to type in specific email addresses to give access only to those people (see further down). Otherwise, clicking where it says restricted gives you the option to change to "Anyone with the link", after which you can select whether people with that link can view, comment on, or edit the document. It's important to note that if you give someone editor access, they can change the document without you approving or denying changes. Commenter access still allows for changes to be suggested, but you will ultimately have to approve them for the main document to change. More examples of that later! And as the title may suggest, the Viewer access will not allow the reader to make any suggestions on the work at all.

If you keep with restricted and enter an email address, it will give you a new window where you can choose the access level, decide if the added people should receive an email notifying them of access, and add in a message that will go with that email if it is selected.

What If I Do Not Use Google Docs?

Whilst GDocs is a commonly used standard, and relatively user friendly, not everyone may feel comfortable with the way it works particularly with email addresses. It's up to you what other systems you might like to use, but ideally your reader should be able to access at least a copy of the document that they are able to edit and/or annotate. Make sure that the format you use is compatible for your reader, and it is likely a good idea to save another copy of your original unedited work in case you want to compare the suggested changes to your original.

What you should let your Beta Reader know, or what a reader can ask the Writer before reading

First things are the obvious ones for writers - the word count of your piece, a brief synopsis including characters involved, and if there is a deadline for receiving the feedback. Prospective beta readers can give an idea of the maximum length of work they are willing to go over as well as an estimate of how long it will take to get through it with feedback. This helps you to both know what the expectations are and can alleviate the anxiety of "I haven't heard back from the beta read yet, is it because the work is that bad?" The most important thing though is to let your Beta Reader know what CWs and TWs are present in your work. It's not good for anyone to expose them to triggers and content they can't handle without warning! If you haven't worked out your list of CWs yet, then you need to be up front in this and find a reader who is either fine with reading without CWs, or who can tell you their "no read" list of topics so you can know if you included any of those that they wish to avoid. If you are a reader offering your services, it can help to keep your list of topics, characters, and tropes that you are not comfortable reading about. You don't have to push yourself to engage with triggering content just to help someone out, even if they're you're very best friend in the world. Your boundaries and comfort matter. After that's out of the way, you need to think about what you do and don't want out of the beta reading. Are you looking for detailed notes on the pacing and characterisations? Is there a segment you are unsure on that you'd like to change? Or do you just need a quick pass to make sure there's no obvious mistakes or continuity errors? If a beta reader knows what to look for - and sometimes more importantly what not to look for - it can help them as they go over your work. If you are a reader and the writer hasn't given you specific guidance, don't be afraid to ask them what they need to know. The kinds of things that people tend to want feedback on might be: - Overall plot. Is it enjoyable? Are there any weak points? - Continuity. Are there any mistakes or inconsistencies? - Spelling and grammar. Particularly for those writing in a secondary language, this could be something they would like particular attention on. Others may feel they don't want their grammar "corrected" if they have a specific style that they like writing with. - Character voices. Do the characters act and sound true to how they should in canon/headcanon? - Specific sections. That bit in the fifth paragraph, does it make sense? Was the opening strong enough to catch interest? - Length and pacing. Did the story and action progress in a satisfying way? Is the piece too long or short? - CWs and Tags. Do the listed tags and CWs cover everything? Are there any things that have been missed out, or any things that are listed but aren't present in the fic? - Readability. Is it clear what's happening even to someone for whom English is a secondary language? This is where having Beta readers with English as a secondary language can be really helpful, because some things might not quite feel the same to some of those readers in your audience too so adjusting them helps widen your appeal.

How To Present Feedback

A lot of feedback is easier to give in the document itself. With Google Docs comment mode, you can highlight individual lines to add a comment, or you can even make in-line editing suggestions.

If you're suggesting a small change like punctuation or grammar, it can be best to do these as in-line edits that can be accepted or rejected by the owner of the document quickly and easily.

Bigger changes like suggesting rewording a full line, or fixing continuity details, are better done as comments which can facilitate a back and forth discussion on how to handle the editing and solution to it. It's also easier to look at the change compared to the original this way, as in-line editing for longer sentences can take up a lot of space. As you can see in the top image, a lot of these longer suggestions will look less clear, but the bottom allows for more of a back and forth to develop the editing.

You might also want to leave some overall feedback, a summary of your interpretation of the work as well as the continuity, content, and anything else that the author was looking for.

It's good to make sure you have some positive as well as the changes needed to polish up the piece, and when suggesting changes try to keep them as open suggestions that the author can choose to work with or not, rather than presenting them as imperative. Keep in mind that sharing "unfinished" work can be really daunting, especially for a newer writer! We all benefit from some confidence boosts, and that helps us achieve the pinnacle of what we're able to accomplish in our works too. People don't tend to learn and improve if their passion is drained away by negative feedback. Remember your role as a Beta Reader is to encourage and support, to enable the writer to make the little changes to their piece that will help their story shine to its full potential!

What Should You Not Say In Beta Feedback

With the last part above in mind, the biggest thing is to not try to take over the writer's vision for their story and characters. Present your ideas as options the writer can choose to use or not, and remember it is their work at the end of the day.

A big thing here is never leave only negative feedback, that's an obvious one. But also please never leave a work without any feedback at all - if you feel like you're not able to give the work its due, for any reason whatsoever, please tell the writer so they know not to wait for your feedback. It can be so draining to have no response and wonder if it's because the work is so bad that the Beta Reader started but didn't want to continue. It is perfectly fine to tell a writer you can't continue, just do so with care! Either "unfortunately I no longer have the free time to beta this piece, but I wish you all the best with it", or "sadly there are things in this work that I'm not comfortable with reading, so I hope you are able to find someone who might be better suited to works containing [cw or trope]" and let them know it is not an issue of the piece's quality but instead is a personal thing unrelated to their skill as a writer. You are under no obligation to give free beta feedback on a work that makes you uncomfortable, or if other things take priority - it's a free favour we give to our fellow creatives, an offer to help, not a paid role or obligation.

Also do keep in mind what the writer has requested from the Beta Read - if they don't want lore accuracy info then it's not helpful to comment on the misuse of a spell or the wrong year referenced. Look at what the writer needs from you, and try to fill that for them!

What is useful feedback?

Useful feedback would be things we can build on, suggestions that keep to the spirit of the piece and the mood the writer is aiming for. If a sentence doesn't flow well, try to pinpoint why, and even better give a couple of options of how to rework it if you can. It doesn't help to say "this paragraph doesn't really work for me" but it is helpful to say "the pacing in this paragraph isn't quite flowing with the rest of the piece, it might help to...[either add a suggestion or two, or suggest reworking it on a basis of pacing]" When suggesting a change, it helps to mention why that change is being suggested. Particularly if someone uses English as a secondary language, they might not realise that the way they've ordered words doesn't quite work for English, or that a particular word doesn't work in the context that they're using it in. Beta feedback can be a powerful learning tool in improving future works, and it's easier to learn when there's a reasoning behind it~

What if the writer rejects the suggestion?

That's ok! Remember that it isn't a reflection on your ideas or your ability as a beta reader - at the end of the day, the story belongs to the writer and it is up to them what they would like to do with it. There may be things they agree with, but equally there could be times that the suggestions don't work for what they're aiming for. Try not to take anything personally, your job is there to help suggest, not to take over the editing in full.

What if I'm not happy with the feedback from my Beta Reader?

Beta readers are there to give you suggestions, not orders, and it is completely ok to discuss the options or just reject the changes. You're the author of your work, and it's up to you to know what you're happy with. It can help to listen to outside opinions, but at the end of the day that is all they are - opinions, and those can differ between people a lot! Because of this it can help to have a second (or more) Beta look over your work and give an alternative opinion. Sometimes that might mean they agree with previous feedback, catch something the other person missed, or they might agree with your idea rather than the other reader. Either way, having that second opinion can help you feel confident in your decisions by knowing you have more of a range of views.

Should I credit my Beta Readers?

That's up to you and your Betas what you're comfortable with! Sometimes people put up a general "thanks to my beta readers" in the notes, or other times if both parties agree then a writer can tag or name Beta Readers in the notes as thanks. That's up to the writer and reader, and we shouldn't be offering our services only in hopes of being credited visibly on works.

But it is generally good practice to at least verbally thank your beta readers for their hard work - after all, they've done this for free and helped you out! Swapping beta readings can be a great way to feel like an even trade of your time and energy, and could even form a strong working relationship together if you find you are compatible with content and feedback!

So, What Now?

If you have any questions, or indeed comments about things I've missed or things you feel I may be wrong about, please do let me know in comments! I'm more than happy to edit this blog piece to help as a guide for my own creative cabal of fic writers as well as something that can be more widely used by those who aren't sure about becoming a beta reader or finding them~

Happy writing, everyone! May your works reach their full potential and truly shine~

#beta reader #beta reader guide #how to beta read #fanfic #fanfic writing

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 1 year ago

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Moving right along. Episode 5

Sad guy is sad and is hallucinating the weirdo.

wait what happened with the teacher and the voice that I assumed was the rival? did I miss something. Did they? oh well

Ok what was that? was that suppose to have come out of his mouth? Cause his mouth didn't move. not even a little. But it seems like what comes after is a continuation.

ok. weirdo apologized but that doesn't seem to help. this is some very weak conflict even by bl standards.

sad boys montage. And I'm not an expert but this song is really not doing it for me. it's not good. Seriously, not even the music? I am in pain.

The guy is sick. Of course weirdo found the guy's house and shows up. At least he brought food. And of course he just walks in.

Ok. I haven't mentioned until now but what is it with this lip tint? It was obviously put in post and it does not look good.

Obligatory messy eater moment. So of course he needs to be fed. And hugged. Did they just make up?

Rival in the house. And he also brought porridge. This isn't awkward at all.

Great moment for weirdo to confess and then run away. And it's the rival's turn. The guy is popular today.

oh the guy thinks he's bad luck for other people. that's sad.

He needs to choose. He chooses weirdo. Every pot or whatever it is.

Ok this time weirdo asks for the kiss. This is improvement.

Episode 6 - oh it's the last one. let's get it over with.

flashback time. I literally just saw this.it's been 10 seconds.

Ok, that was a good kiss. And a long one for kbl.

We're back at the weirdly lit coffee shop. Oh wait I recognize this dude. Isn't he from a strongberry short? which one? I need to look this up later.

Ok. the guy got the job at the coffee shop.that cake looks good. is that cheesecake? it looks like it. like blueberry cheesecake. and now I want blueberries. preferably on top of cheesecake.

More kisses and the sound effects are back. also the silent comedy music. How much longer? wait is the weirdo also working there?

OMG. WHAT WAS THAT VOICE? THIS WAS THE CRINGE TO END ALL CRINGE. Ok, it turns out that they are both weirdos and they are perfect together. I'm sorry but this bit of dialogue needs to be shared.

the guy : today was tough huh? the weirdo: It's very different from when I was a costumer.

Was it? that's so weird. It's just going from one side of the counter to the other. I mean how different can it really be. 🤦‍♀️

Oh the kbl classic. Boy sleeps on table with one hand under his head and arm stretched.

Another good kiss. oh he was just helping his boyfriend but now he got the job.

Hug from behind my beloved.

They're missing an ingredient and one of them has to go get it. I'm having MODC flashbacks.

of course weirdo wouldn't let him go alone.

What's with the sudden tension, is that the rival? can't be.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT ENDS???? WTF? Is that it? ok, then...

Final thoughts

Strongberry we need to talk. I forgave that whole 20 minute short split in 3 parts. Mostly because those 20 minutes were at least well shot and well acted. And because we've been together for quite a few of these and there was a certain level of trust between us. I'm afraid going forward that will no longer be the case. Of course I'll keep my eyes open and if you decide to drop by I still wanna see you, but it's not the same. I have been burned too many times in this bl world and sadly I need to protect myself from future disappointment. So consider this an adjustment of expectations. I'm getting really good at these so don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I wish you well on all your future endeavours.

If anyone has made it through all that, I thank you. posting these made the whole experience a bit better. also I did not spellcheck or look over anything so sorry if there are mistakes. 💜💜💜

Edit: previous posts in the series if anyone is interested. E1 E2 E3&4

#rose rambles #blossom campus #korean bl #rose watches Blossom Campus #well that was a show

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factorialsotherfandoms · 2 months ago

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hi factorial friend! fic writer asks: 2, 22, 29?

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

I am currently attempting to prod Balu with a stick! Outside of the silly month challange stuff, anyway. He's not responding well to stick poking. Honestly I think I need to flesh his background out more than we got in canon, but I don't wanna, I wanna finish the fics I started. You see the issue.

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

Oooooooooo 1am honestly hours here! I get horrific anxiety about fics, and it can make it extremely difficult to finish them - especially chapter fic. A chapter fic I haven't finished getting less comments one chapter to the next? I know it happens, I'm a reader gdi I've been there I've missed commenting on bits, but it still makes me antsy and depressed and makes it hard to continue.

But more generally, as chapter fic I either generally don't do or finish prior to posting to avoid that...

There's kinda two sides of the same coin in dealing with it? So. I cannot emotionally handle betas. I avoid events that require them like the plague - unless I'm having a good month mental health wise /and/ I've got someone within fandom who will beta for me (or the one irl I read to is free), but that's a tricky combo. Which... You've read enough of my nonsense to possibly have picked up on this? Either my fics sit in editting hell for months, or I post them with barely a spellcheck - not even that, if I post to tumblr first. This is entirely related to this. Either the perfectionism kicks in (more common but not exclusive to longer fics, especially as longer ones often /need/ the editting as I'll need to stitch together scenes) OR in an attempt to avoid it I go 'of course it's not getting attention/will go down poorly, I bet I haven't even put my verbs and adverbs in the right order, I did this myself so that's fine'. It's a control thing. If I didn't put the effort into the edit, then I didn't mind about it getting lost in fic sea, and so it's fine if it doesn't go down well. It's the ones I /do/ put the effort into and put months of my life into that are most upsetting. Usually they go down fine enough, but I've one I'm /really/ struggling to finish atm as it's both difficult and it feels unwanted, and that SUCKS.

Oh and the third option is sometimes I post on anon. I may or may not deanon later. That's mostly when I'm just writing like a one off fic in a new fandom and don't intend to be back, but is also a thing. I'll also sometimes do it with exchange fic if I think the recipient will like it but I'm less sure about people generally.

29. how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

If the fic is under 1000 words, I can nearly guarantee I spent longer on the title than the fic. If it's over it varies. Kodacolor and Electricity in Technichrome and the only fics where I've done in the last year or so (I need to swing back to those two characters not that I've really swung away rather been busy but you know) where I had the title before finishing the fic. The paired fics were relatively okay as I'd already picked out a few lines from a song. The rest? Hell hell hell hell hell

#ask and answer #lovely rabbit

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thedevillionaire · 1 year ago

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✍🏼 🌞 💘 😶 😎 !!

✍🏼 Describe your writing process in a way that makes sense to you

I watch movies in my head, and when a scene happens that I particularly enjoy, I mentally rewind and replay it over and over. And some of these movie parts become replayed enough and insistent enough to want to be put into permanent words. So, I write grabs of conversation and any particular critical points of import as notes, write either the opening line or the closing line first, and then fill the rest in. The order varies. I print out the first final draft because I edit better in hardcopy. Then I put the final version away for at least a day - often more - before rereading it to make sure it does, in fact, make sense. Vet it for typos. I don't use spellcheck so I watch the typo factor veeery closely, lol. And done.

🌞 Do you need a specific environment to write? Like music, a certain time of day, a certain type of place? Place is anywhere but I need to be alone. Music has to be lyricless, otherwise I'll get distracted by it. I'm way too stupid in the mornings to write; the bulk of my writing is done late at night. Or at work. I regularly come up with the "that's it! That!" phrase I've been looking for when at work, or shopping, or doing some other damn thing that isn't a good time for writing. I try to take notes of these and get to it properly later on. I write either on my laptop or with pen and paper. I have never written a damn thing on my phone and never will, lol

💘What are some of your favorite things you’ve written and why? Snz specific, presumably! Snz wise, my personal fic fave as an entirety is probably The Twentieth, just in terms of hitting a bunch of Things I Like A Lot buttons, haha, but I'll give a little shout-out specifically to the fit in Four Days, Mostly, which is, uh... You know. One of those scenes I kinda have to walk around the house about.😅 I'm always a bit "maybe this one... No, this one" about favourites, because it varies depending on my mood. But since this is focusing on writing, specifically, I was honestly damn happy with the forestmorph scene in Illusionary, and the Immerse and Possess scene in Panacea.

😶 Is there anything you’ve been wanting to write that you haven’t gotten to yet, or that you don’t feel comfortable tackling at this point in time? This is always a clear-cut answer for me, and will be until I get it done, but... When Cerberus loses his closest friend - or, more specifically, his breakdown after he tries and fails to bring him back. This is a scene I've wanted to write for a very long time, but I continue to find it just too damn emotionally taxing to manage it.

😎How long do you wait to post fics you’ve completed? Do you post them immediately? Do you want a few days? I reread an online and a printed copy of any final version several times, and with at least one night's sleep between readings, before posting. If I post and notice an upfucking, no matter how minor, it will annoy the living crap out of me. I'm much kinder on other people's typos than my own.

#answered asks #thank you so much! :D

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sissytobitch10seconds · 2 years ago

Text

Birdsong: Ribs

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone (TV) Summary: Wylan is kicking himself in the ass for being as late as he was. He knew that his partners had to be worried, it was almost three hours after he sat that he would be home, after all. It seems as thought the world is determined to make him even later than ever when he hears something in the parking lot near his work. Warnings: Physical assault, mentions of canon-typical grooming/child abuse, and blood Word Count: 10,501 Ship(s): Nina Zenik/Wylan Van Eck/Jesper Fahey/Matthias Helvar/Inej Ghafa/Kaz Brekker

Archive link!

A/N: At the time of writing this, I had not read the books so a lot of the plot was still pulled from the show. I've now finished the book but I don't want to rewrite the whole series so I'm editing some things as I go. If you notice inconsistencies from here on out that's why! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Wylan winced as the door to his lab shut harder than he had meant it to. He had gotten so wrapped up in the work that he had been doing, finally hitting the breakthrough that he had been searching for, that he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten. He tried to make sure that he was home no later than six so that he could eat with his partners before Kaz had to go oversee the opening of the Crow Club. Inej often had a call time around seven as well, so it killed two birds with one stone to be home before they left. That way he knew that he had at least one in person interaction with them each day, since they were usually asleep when he woke.

He had broken the rule that he had made with himself by working over what his normal limit was. He didn’t break the rule often, maybe once or twice a year. A lot of the time when he was working in the lab, he was running the same experiment over and over again, which was so monotonous that he would often skip out on a test or two that he could have run that day in favor of doing it the next day instead. It was worse when he was writing his reports, since he had to speak slowly to his speech-to-text program so that he could get it written up faster than it would take him to try and type everything. Spellcheck was a godsend, but reading and writing were so much harder for him than they were for everyone else that he worked with.

Today he had been so wrapped up in the new breakthrough that they had made, that he had totally forgotten to keep track of the time. He had been mumbling down ideas into the notepad app on his phone the entire day so that none of the ideas would escape him. By the time that he had looked up again, ripped from his thoughts as he realized that he was famished, all of his coworkers were gone and the building had been darkened.

Wylan had finished cleaning up the lab and then locked the building as quickly as he felt he could while still being responsible so that he could go home. He hurried towards the parking lot that he had found a spot in that morning after running a little bit behind. That was the annoying thing about working so close to the university campus when school was in session, it resulted in him having to walk two blocks just to get to his car so that he could go home because all the other spots were taken. Still, it meant that they got a lot of student interns so they didn’t have to spend the extra money they were already strapped for, instead just giving them credit for their classes and real world experience.

He tugged his headphones out of his bag and then connected them to his phone as he picked the audiobook that he had been listening to that week. He and Jesper had a mini book club that they participated in, though it was turning into a playful argument about which audiobook producer was the best. Despite the fact that Jesper listened to more podcasts and music than he did audiobooks, he still had very strong opinions about it. Jesper was able to read physical copies even if it was only in short bursts, but Wylan preferred to keep reading as much as he could even with his learning disability, so he tended to plow through the books that they were allegedly reading together.

The soothing voice of the narrator washed over him as he stuck his hands into his pockets and walked down the street towards his car. He was trying to focus on what was being read to him instead of the plan that he was coming up with for the end of the study. He knew that if they made a big breakthrough and patented or sold something, then they’d be able to continue the work that they had been doing in the lab more than they ever expected to. Wylan didn’t look at science as a way of making money necessarily, he would still experiment by himself even if he wasn’t being paid to do it, but this way he could continue to work with the team that he had grown very attached to.

After about only three minutes and half a block, he decided that trying to pay attention to an audiobook just wasn’t going to happen because he was too invested in what he had been working on. Jesper and Matthias were both going to be very pouty when he got home and all he could talk about was work despite being late. At least Kaz would understand, but he’d be at work until midnight at the earliest.

Wylan let out a little put-upon sigh. It was hard to navigate adult relationships, even if the freedom of adulthood was more than worth it. Sometimes he longed for the simplicity that had come with being a teenager, but he was always quick to remind himself how much happier he was now. Even if he had his partners back then, the abuse that his father had put him through would have made him miserable despite the support of the five wonderful people he had met.

Instead, he hummed the song that had been pestering the back of his mind as he walked. Ever since they had actually started going steady with her, Jesper and Matthias had been playing the music from the band that their new girlfriend was in. The artists were very talented and Wylan had to admit that her voice was soothing, but it was still annoying that they were so good at becoming earworms when he was trying to have other thoughts.

He paused when he got to the edge of the parking lot to the bar that was on the other side of the block to his lab building. The area was mostly deserted now that students weren’t using it to get as close to campus as they could, but a few cars were still parked there. It was one of the least popular bars in town (and Wylan wasn’t biased because the Crow Club was becoming busier every day, he assured himself), so there were only about a half dozen vehicles.

What really caught his attention was the scene that was unfolding. There was a man wearing a red and white varsity-style jacket with the last name ‘Kaminsky’ stitched into the back and a pair of blue jeans with a thick brown belt. He was advancing on a woman while shouting at her, “You think that you’re tough shit because you stole Alina away from Aleksander but you’re nothing but a fucking whore!”

“Ivan, you’re drunk, you need to go home,” the woman replied.

Wylan took a step forward so that he could get a better look at her. She had coiled brown hair that was loose around her face and shoulders, which only served to bring out the pronounced jawline and cheekbones of her face. Her lips were soft and pouty, but that was mostly because of the peach colored lipgloss that she was wearing. She had accented eyeliner in pink under the black and rosy cheeks to match the eyeshadow. She was wearing a blue mini skirt that was tucking into a loose black bodice that had sheer puffy sleeves.

Objectively, she was very pretty. Wylan knew that women who were stereotypically attractive tended to get accosted by drunk men a lot, especially since he had begun his queerplatonic relationship with Inej. She had taught him a lot about women that he had never been able to pick up from his step-mother because of their distance. His own mother had disappeared when he was too young to learn about the kinds of things Inej had taught him and come back into his life after he had gotten together with the aforementioned acrobat.

Still, they seemed to know each other so Wylan hung back to let things play their course. He didn’t want to interrupt something and then get shouted at for it, especially when he was already feeling emotionally frayed from working too much that day. He desperately wanted to go home so that he could cuddle with his partners and eat dinner while watching bad TV, but this was important. It was possible that the situation would turn violent and she would need help, but he didn’t want to assume right away.

“You don’t get to talk to me like you know me!” the man screamed. He smashed the beer bottle that had been hanging loosely from his hand down onto the car behind her, which caused a few shards of glass to cut through her freckled skin. Beads of red blood blossomed on the skin and began to dribble down her cheek. She was pinned up against the car, the only other option for her was to move towards the wall which would result in her being trapped from all sides.

Wylan got out his phone and pointed it towards the fight. He had gotten used to doing that a lot when he was a teenager, but he was glad that something had come from that miserable time in his life. Hopefully if things escalated it could actually help the woman.

The woman had finally regained her voice after the sharp cry of panic that she had let out, “Ivan, you know that I don’t control what Alina does! I have nothing to do with the breakup, I just rejoined the band when she said she wanted to start playing again.”

That only provoked the man further instead of de-escalating it like she had no doubt hoped for. “You are the only person that was still allowed to be in contact with her from the old band. I know that you continued the music too. You really think that I’m stupid enough to believe that lie you made up for everyone else?”

“I expect you to be a rational fucking human, but apparently I set my standards too high!” she shouted back at him. “You really think that I single handedly tried to tear down The Fold?” she snarled.

Wylan could hear the fear in her voice as she did so. He took a step forward, preparing to help her if things got more serious, his phone still recording. He could feel her anxiety in his own veins, heart thrumming, lungs gasping for more air, mind racing.

“I think that you’re a traitorous bitch that would do anything to try and ruin the career of a man you hate,” the other man replied. He kept advancing on her, caging her in with his body more and more. He was svelte, thinner than she was, but he was also a couple of inches taller than her. It was made worse based on the fact that she was cowering back against the car that he had pinned her on.

Wylan envied the confidence that took over her features as she pushed up her chest and stood at her full height despite that mostly closing the space between them. She had a fierce look burning in her eyes, one that Wylan would have never been able to summon up if he had been standing in front of his father during one of their fights. Her mouth twisted into a truly feral smirk as she said, “I had nothing to do with the falling of The Fold. I think that you should talk to your precious Darkling about why he tried to sink all of his money into shit lawsuits to get back the girl that he groomed when she finally dumped his ass and took him for all he was worth. Maybe he should have thought before he decided that he didn’t need a prenup.”

That made Ivan snap.

He had swung his arm back and then brought it forward before Wylan even had the time to process what he was doing. The sickening crack that sounded as his fist collided with the woman’s jaw made him cringe. He shoved his phone in his pocket so that the camera was peaking out over the fabric and still recording their conversation as he rushed over. He may have been several inches shorter than the attacker, but two bodies were better than one so there was a good chance that he would actually be of some use when it came to helping her.

“Leave her alone!”

“Stay out of this,” Ivan replied.

The woman was bent over slightly, slumped against the car. She was supporting herself with one of her hands so that she wouldn’t fall over and holding her cheek with the other. One side was still dripping blood down her forehead so that it streaked the rest of her face and the other side was no doubt going to be blooming with a dark bruise based on the sound alone.

“You know, I don’t think that I will,” Wylan replied. He reached down into his bag for the pepper spray that he brought with him everywhere he went. He was a little less paranoid about people randomly attacking him when he was out on the street than Kaz, but the couple weeks that he had spent homeless had made it so that he never went anywhere without a way to protect himself. Just remembering the fights escalating to the point where he had decided the open streets were safer for him made him furious that the woman was being attacked out in the open like that.

Coming over to help had the effect that he wanted, which was both a good and a bad thing. Ivan had seemingly forgotten about the woman and had turned fully to Wylan, but there was more hate and rage burning in his drunken eyes than before. “This has nothing to do with you,” he snarled, spewing flecks of spit out towards Wylan.

“This has something to do with me because you’re attacking someone less than a block from the place where I work! I may not know who you are or why you’ve decided to be an absolute ass, but it’d be wrong of me to just walk away. That’s the right thing for you to do, though,” he said confidently. He uncapped the pepper spray in his bag and then wrapped his fingers around the small bottle. It would take him less than a second to bring it out, aim, and then incapacitate the man, as long as alcohol was the only thing in his system. He had seen pepper spray being used on another one of the homeless youth from his camp, and because the other had been on PCP it had been basically useless.

“He’s right, Ivan. What would Fedyor think about you doing this? I know that your husband still works for that scum but we were once friends. I don’t think that he’d be very happy about you wailing on me,” the woman said as she righted herself.

“Keep my husband’s name out of your mouth, wench,” he snarled as he turned back around. Apparently mentioning whoever she had was the wrong move, as he wrapped his hand into her dark locks and threw her down to the ground.

Wylan had moved in an instant, before he even knew what his legs were doing. He brought the pepper spray out of his bag as he moved, aiming and spraying just as he had been playing over and over again in his mind. The red liquid dusted through the air until it was covering the eyes and face of the attacker, burning into his skin.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he screamed as he fell down to his knees and began to claw at his eyes. It would do nothing to remove the irritant from where it was sticking, but it was the only thing he could think of in his addled state to get rid of the feeling.

Wylan quickly stepped around him and then offered his hand out to the woman. She had bounced hard against the asphalt of the parking lot but was already beginning to right herself, one hand once again cupping the side of her face. “Do you think that you can stand?” he asked as he offered his hand out to her.

She nodded weakly as she took it and used it to haul herself to her feet. She whimpered as she took a step, her ankle doubling because of the break in her heel. She bent down and removed both of her shoes, looping her fingers around the back so that she could carry them. Wylan took her hand in his again and then began to pull her down the street so that Ivan couldn’t get up and follow them if he somehow overcame the burning that of the pepper spray. It was unlikely that would ever happen because of the potentness of the irritant, but Wylan had learned that sticking around to make sure the monster had been taken down resulted in getting hurt.

They ran over the street, crossing against the red light because there were no other cars on the road. She held onto him like if she let go then she’d drift back to the place of pain and fear that she had been in before, something that he was intimately familiar with.

Wylan was by no means unfit, but he didn’t work out as much as his partners did. He and Kaz tried to do at least a little bit of physical activity, Wylan so that his body didn’t go stiff with how long he spent over a desk and Kaz to help self-regulate his chronic pain issues. Matthias worked out because he enjoyed it, Inej did it because it was part of her job, and Jesper somehow managed to stay fit because of the singing and acting that he threw himself at every chance he got.

Running down two blocks and into the parking lot where his car was left him gasping for air, along with the woman next to him. Her chest was heaving to bring in air even though she was nowhere as winded as he was. He wondered what she did for a living that let her have that much breath control, but now wasn’t exactly the time to ask.

He winced as he realized what he had done, eyeing her shoes where they were still clenched in the hand that wasn’t holding onto his. He dropped her hand then when he remembered that he hadn’t yet let go and said, “I’m sorry for bringing you all the way here, I should have brought you to your car.”

She waved him off dismissively, “I didn’t drive here and this is far enough that I can’t imagine Ivan being able to follow us.” She paused for a moment as her hand drifted up to where she had hit her head through the thick chocolate curls and Wylan remembered another thing that he technically should have done.

“Would you mind if I checked you out? I may not be a medical doctor but I’m still trained in first aid so I should be able to see if you have a concussion or not,” he explained nervously. He reached into his bag and dug out the keys to his car, unlocking it with a fluid motion. He opened up the hatch to the back and then pulled the emergency wool blanket over the dirt and grim covered edge so that she had somewhere to sit that was relatively clean.

It was a bit of odd paranoia that had followed him well into adulthood, even after he had become the legal owner of a home. He knew that it was unlikely that he would ever break up with his partners and even more unlikely that it would be all of them, or that him no longer being in a relationship with them would result in him being back on the streets, but it was a worry that always hung heavy in the back of his mind. He made sure that any vehicles that he owned had enough space for him to sleep in the back comfortably so that he wasn’t quite as exposed as he had been when he was a teenager.

“Right, you probably should,” she nodded. “I think if I said no my friend Tamar would find out and actually come to kill me.”

She let out another one of her pleasant laughs. It made Wylan feel comfortable and happy, settled back into his body instead of pushed out of his skin by adrenaline and bad memories. This woman reminded him a lot of Inej, though she was soft where Inej was sharp and quick where Inej was slow. While Wylan’s queerplatonic partner was a lot more partial to fixing people that bothered her with a silent yet deadly stare that promised untold pain, the woman next to him was the type to face her problems head-on with all the ferocity that she could muster. She didn’t seem jagged and broken afterwards the same way that Inej did, her confidence letting her head stay high instead of crumbling to dust after.

Wylan wanted to get to know her more, but he could do that after he made sure that she was okay. “I’m going to check your pupils with the flashlight on my phone,” he warned her. She had sat down on top of the blanket in front of him so that he could reach her easily, which he was grateful for. Despite the fact that she had already removed her heels, which had made her a few inches taller, she was nearly a head taller than Wylan when he was standing at his full height.

She just hummed in acknowledgement, choosing not to nod her head, which was probably for the best. Wylan grabbed his phone from his pocket and stopped the recording that he had completely forgotten about. He then placed his hand on the edge of her eyelid. He shook the device in his other hand twice to activate the flashlight before he brought it up and shone it directly into her eye. The pupil shrank and revealed more of the beautiful green color in her irises.

He repeated the process on the same eye once and got the same response before he did it to the other. When he was sure that her pupils were dilating and constricting as they should have been, he pressed the light button on the back of his trunk so that they could properly see each other. The overhead streetlights had given them enough that he wasn’t worried about hurting her while he checked her out, but it would be easier for them both to maneuver around.

Wylan fidgeted with his first aide kit as he tried to figure out what he was going to do next. Before he even got the chance to start forming a sentence, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

He winced. He wasn’t very good at meeting new people.

She didn’t seem to mind very much, just laughing again. She slid further back into his car so that her knees were hugging the lip of the trunk. “I think it’s only fair that I get to know your name after everything that I put you through,” she explained easily. She was so warm, like freshly baked bread or pancakes directly off of the griddle. She had just been through something so deeply traumatizing and yet the kindness and compassion that she seemed to carry with her came off of her in waves.

“You didn’t put me through anything,” Wylan shook his head. “I could have just kept walking or gone into the bar to get one of the bouncers to help you if I didn’t want to deal with it. I wanted to help. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of some guy’s anger.”

Worry took over her pretty features for a moment before she winced and placed her hand up on her face where she had been struck. “So does that mean that I get to know your name or are you going to be the handsome stranger that saved me for the rest of my life.”

For some reason, he didn’t feel panicky or strange when she called him handsome the way that he had when other woman had done the same thing. It made him feel bashful and excited the same way that he did when Inej called him that, like she was complimenting him objectively instead of seeing someone that she could possibly romance. It was a different feeling than when his boys complimented him, which made fire run through his veins and excitement flip his stomach. “Wylan,” he supplied after he realized that he hadn’t answered her again.

Her face fell and her eyes widened. For a moment he was worried that she was going to puke or that he had missed a pivotal sign of concussion despite her not acting like she was dizzy or nauseous before. Then she asked, “Hendriks?”

He nodded, “How did you know?”

She sighed and slumped against the side of his car, her head resting against the rubber insulation on the side that wasn’t already swelling with injury. “My name is Nina Zenik. You and I were supposed to meet tomorrow so that Jesper and Matthias could introduce me to you.”

“Oh!” he gasped. Relief washed over him as he realized just how much of a good thing it was that he had interrupted the fight instead of minding his own business. Sticking his nose where it didn’t belong had actually resulted in him getting a lot of good things in life, which is why he had made such a massive habit out of it despite the way it had treated him in childhood. “I thought that you looked a little bit familiar.”

She righted herself, squaring her shoulders dramatically before she stuck her hand out in front of her. Wylan took it and gave her a shake like she had been asking for as she said, “It’s good to meet you.”

“You as well,” he laughed. “Now, do you want me to take you back to your apartment?”

Nina deflated again. Her eyes glanced back towards the parking lot that they had come from. She took a moment before she finally, cautiously answered, “I don’t think that I can go home. Ivan and Fedyor both know where I live and where I keep my spare key. I’ve been trying to find a new place to move it but I haven’t quite figured it out yet so there’s a chance…”

“Do you have a friend that you want to stay with?” he asked instead, not judging her in the slightest for not wanting to go home. Wylan himself had struggled with panic attacks for the first week that he had been living in his family estate after he had inherited it. Matthias and Jesper had spent every waking moment that they weren’t working or spending time with their other partners helping him remodel the house so it felt more like his home and less like his prison. If she felt at all unsafe in her apartment then there was no way that he was going to pressure her to go back, especially since he understood that feeling.

A small blush joined the makeup on her cheeks, which only served to highlight the freckles brushed across her nose and ears. “I would suggest that you bring me to Matthias and Jesper if you hadn’t already told me that you were their partner.”

“I can bring you back to the house,” Wylan immediately replied. Just the idea of doing so already soothed a lot of the anxiety that had been brewing in his gut. He was worried that the second she was out of his sight something horrible was going to happen to her, like it had been before he arrived. It was a lot less creepy to suggest that he take her back to his home when he knew that she was already very familiar and comfortable around two of his partners, so he was grateful that they had learned that fact about each other that early into their interaction.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything, I know that the five of you live together,” she touched the edge of her mascara where it was still smearing with blood.

He offered her a shy smile as he reached into the first aid kit that he kept in the back of his car. “Well I actually own the house, so I’m technically the one that gets to decide who does and does not get to go inside of it. Step mother? Proably not. The woman that two of my boyfriends have been going out with that just got hurt? Absolutely.”

She laughed, more of the tension beginning to melt from her. It was clear that she was beginning to come down from the adrenaline rush that the fight had brought her, the exhaustion hanging off of her. Wylan wanted to get some of her wounds cleaned up in the car before they had the actual first aide expert look her over.

Finally finding what he had been searching for, he handed her a wet wipe and asked, “Do you need to go to the ER or do you feel comfortable coming back to my place?”

“It’s going to sound so silly,” she mumbled as she picked at the edge of the wipe’s packaging.

“I don’t think anything you say when you’re going through shock is going to sound silly,” he assured her. It was a bold move from a very unbold person, but he touched her arm to try and emphasize what he had said with actions.

She leaned easily into the touch as she collected her thoughts. She then said, “All I can think about is seeing Matthias and Jesper. I know we haven’t been together for nearly as long as you have, but they’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long while.”

“Not your band getting back together?” Wylan asked.

She shook her head and then winced. She unwrapped the wet wipe and then tenderly brought it up to her face. Nina was only able to get some of the blood off of her skin, a decent amount of it already congealing and making it monumentally harder to do what she needed to.

Carefully, he pried the item from her hand and then began to patiently rub it over her skin to clear away the blood. She scrunched her nose and took in a sharp inhale when he got closer to the cuts. He couldn’t see any shards of glass so far, but he wasn’t trying to clean out the wounds, but rather make her more comfortable until he could actually tend to them properly.

While he was cleaning she explained, “My band getting back together has been messy, as you saw with my fight with Ivan. I was partially signed to the label owned by a really famous artist and when I started refusing to produce music under the contract I got in a lot of trouble. They stole a shit ton of money from me but I made it work. They didn’t really like that and so now I’m on the shit list for the rest of my life.”

“If that was anything to go by then I can see that,” Wylan murmured. He got the gauze out of the first aid kit and then wound it around his hand until it made a thick pad. He slipped it off of his nimble fingers and pressed it to the cuts on her face before they had the chance to continue bleeding. “Do you want to do the rest of the cleaning and tending back at the house?”

“Yes,” she nodded immediately. “As comfortable as the back of your car is, I would much rather have somewhere that has soap and running water.”

He held his hand out to help her steady herself as she stood back up properly. She was holding the gauze to her face with one hand and moving around the edge of the car with the other. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the asphalt making up the parking lot had to be painful on her stockinged feet.

While she was moving, he packed up the first aid kit again and then shoved everything properly into his trunk. He clicked the light off and shut the hatch before he went to the driver’s side and got in. He turned the car on so that the heater was running and hopefully helping to warm her up since the night was a little bitter and she didn’t have a coat.

“I’m going to text the others to tell them what happened before we get going, is that okay?” Wylan asked as he motioned to his phone with his other hand.

She nodded her consent and he got to work. He opened up the group chat that he had with his partners and then held the phone up to his mouth. He spoke clearly and deliberately so that the speech-to-text program could actually write down what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry for being home so late from work, but I found Nina in a fight with someone. She’s doing mostly okay but I’m going to bring her back to the house so that we can help her. Be home soon, love you.”

He glanced at her, a bit sheepish as he sent the message off to his partners. He connected his phone to the car’s computer and opened Spotify so that he could pick some music as a social lubricant. He felt comfortable with silences, even relished in them at times, but he had been dating Jesper for long enough to know that other people felt pressured to talk when everything else was quiet. Music usually stamped that down at least a little, made silences between acquaintances more comfortable and soothed anxieties.

He had four pinned playlists other than his liked songs up at the top, each with a combination of his name with one of his partner’s. It was something cute that they had done with each other, making a playlist where they could send messages to the other, give music suggestions, or just generally be sappy. It worked best with Kaz, who loved them very, very, very much but had trouble being able to express that physically on some days.

Wylan had been thinking about Inej a lot since he had gotten Nina back to his car, a lot of the feelings he had for her recurring in his chest. Of course the emotions were nowhere near as strong as they were for Inej since he had known her longer, but they were still there. He had only ever felt the warm giddiness pooling in his chest for one other woman before, and it was the one that he was queerplatonically dating. He was going to have to take a moment to process that when he was no longer feeling quite so sleepy and frazzled.

He finally settled on the one that he and Matthias had made for each other, setting it to shuffle before he deposited it down onto the center console. His phone lit up with a couple of texts from his partners but he was unable to read what they said or who had sent them. The only way that he had been able to parse through his playlists was because the covers had been very unique, for the express purpose of helping him when he was struggling with reading. The combination of him overworking himself earlier that day and the adrenaline made the words swim in front of him whenever he tried.

Once his bag was deposited into the back and Nina was buckled in, he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive back to his home. He lived on the very outskirts of the city so it was going to take them a while to get there despite the ten o’clock traffic being so light that outside of the center of town, there was no one.

He had been right to start music for the drive. Nina didn’t seem to be up to doing much talking, simply holding the gauze to her forehead and switching hands when one got tired. Wylan made sure to check on her every so often by glancing in her direction, admiring how cinematic she looked when the streetlights were bathing her in soft yellow and red light.

The ride had been going smooth until they got about ten minutes away from the estate. A new song that Matthias had added came onto the radio, and it just so happened to be one of the ones that her band had produced. Wylan had been informed that it was Nina singing since those songs all happened to be Matthias’ and Jesper’s favorites, not that they were biased, but it was also deeply personal to him. He couldn’t relate to every line that was said, but it was so reminiscent of the way that he had grown up and how he would raise children if he and his partners ever decided to have them.

The sultry voice murmured out of the radio as he reached down to change the song. Before he got the chance, Nina’s hand landed on top of his and stopped him from doing so. She gave him a kind smile as she began to sing along, matching the notes perfectly since it was her.

“Marrow made a wife of Eve, but no one gave up a rib for me and mine. My hearts did expose to the elements, calloused and untouched by a man's design. Oh, my ugly organs, how lucky we are. Brick and mortar between my bones, built a kingdom fierce and fortified. My name fading from the yellow page, stones are laid upon the mountainside Oh, my savage empire, ow lucky we are, never to be moved by the words of a liar. The dark doesn't frighten me, I chose to close my eyes. It is mine, it is mine. The night doesn't frighten me, I chose to let it thrive. It is mine, it is mine. Time has changed the metaphor. Now, dust is not the origin of bone Little girl, don't let them sell you any armor, all your ribs are still your own. Oh, my precious child, how lucky you are, handed down a shield for your tender parts.”

By the time that they had reached the end repetition of the chorus, Wylan had joined her in singing the song. It felt cathartic to be able to sing it out loud when usually he was too shy to do so. The song was raw in a way that many things rarely were any more, which was only part of the reason that he adored it so much.

Nina hadn’t removed her hand from where she had stopped him from changing the song. Instead, their hands lay on the center console. Their palms were pressed flush and their fingers slotted together without interweaving. It felt right and gentle, not forward despite them having only known each other for half an hour.

When the song finished, she took a deep breath. “I wrote that song immediately after I left The Fold. So many of my emotions went into it and it was so personal, I wanted to produce it under my other name. It fit better with Shadow and Bone than it did with Heartrender, though, and the band agreed that they’d be okay with producing it.”

“Is it about everything that happened under that label?” Wylan asked, his eyes darting towards her for just a moment. He was worried that he was asking something that was too personal or prying into a wound that hadn’t healed yet.

She didn’t seem to mind as she gave him another affirmative hum. “It was also based off of some of the things that happened when I was young. I knew Alina, one of my bandmates, when we were both fifteen. We went to that huge Catholic school, the one that everyone else calls the Little Palace because the chapel attached to it makes it look kind of like a castle. We were both so sheltered and we had all that religious drivel drilled into us so hard. It made me feel so guilty for being able to love women as well, but it also opened us up to some pretty nasty older men. I was able to avoid it from the romantic side, but when Kirigan approached us and promised us the fame and fortune that we had been dreaming of, there was no way that we could reject it. We signed with him and things got worse for her but they eventually got better for me. We’re both okay now, but that song…”

“I relate to it too,” Wylan gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “My dad was shit and my mom was always telling me that I had to find armor wherever I could find it. She left when I was eight and then she couldn’t be my armor anymore, so I had to find it in other things. There was no one there to protect me,” he shook his head as the memories all came pouring back.

Nina took in a deep breath and cleared her throat. “That’s enough hard stuff for tonight! We should talk about something else.”

“Yes,” Wylan nodded in agreement. His face then brightened as he turned onto the street that would lead him to his home, “Have you had the chance to meet Trassel yet?”

“I haven’t! Matthias was going to bring him to a date that we were supposed to have in a park but then we got that horrible thunderstorm and had to change to a cafe, which meant no dog,” she pouted.

“Well you’re about to meet him. I want to warn you that in pictures he looks a lot smaller than he actually is because Matthias is massive. He’s absolutely sweet but can be kind of scary if you were expecting a dog closer to the size of a lab,” Wylan informed her. He had a bad reaction when he first met Trassel because of the sheer massive size of the dog, despite Trassel being the sweetest animal that he had ever had the fortune of living with.

They pulled into the driveway and then the garage. He noticed that Kaz’s car was gone, but the one that Matthias and Jesper shared was parked dutifully in the spot on the other side of the garage. “I knew that it had to be a big place for you to all live together but I wasn’t expecting it to be this huge,” Nina commented as she carefully got out of the car.

“We’re not secretly rich or something, this was the only thing that I inherited from my dad when he died,” Wylan explained as he grabbed his bag and phone. He got out and locked the vehicle.

A smile pulled at his lips as he could already hear the deep barking from inside the house where his pet had heard the garage door opening. Trassel was smart enough to know that meant someone was coming home and he adored them all so much that it didn’t matter which one of them it was.

Wylan walked over to Nina and brought her to the steps that led to the backdoor of the house instead of the ones that led to the dog run in the sideyard. It had been a massive undertaking for the rest of his partners to get used to the size of the estate when they had finally moved in. The only reason that Wylan had been an exception to that was because he had grown accustomed to every nook and cranny of the place while hiding from his father and private tutor.

They stepped over the threshold and into the kitchen just as Trassel finished barreling down the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. The space that they were in was massive, but felt more snug than it had in Wylan’s childhood because of the details that his partners had helped him add to the space to make it his own. The tile was white and black diamonds that went halfway up the walls. They had recently painted the kitchen to be a butter yellow color, with red curtains hanging and drawn over the windows. All of the appliances had been updated within the last couple of the years but were also the ugliest stainless steal. The fridge was the best part, now covered in little magnets and sticky note reminders for each of them. Art hung around the cupboards, which were a rainbow set of colors in the most obnoxiously bright yet not neon colors that they could find. Every surface other than the counters was also cluttered with aloe vera and spider plants, which Inej had brought from her apartment when she had moved in.

“Hi puppy!” Wylan beamed as he patted his lap to call the dog over to him. He knew that Nina would likely need a second or two so that she could become accustomed to the new space that she was in.

Trassel barked excitedly as he immediately ran over to Wylan. He was massive even for a utonagan, coming up to the Wylan’s waist with all four paws down on the ground. He was also about a hundred and ten pounds, most of which appeared to be fur as they got closer to the winter months. He was beautiful shade of brown-black with the white clinging to his chest and the underside of his muzzle. It would likely spread as he continued to get older, but at only five years old he had retained all of the luscious color he had been born with.

“Have you been good today?” Wylan asked as he began to run his fingers through the side of the dog’s face. The fur around the top of Trassel’s head was his favorite, soft and already brushed back so it didn’t hang in front of his eyes or nose.

He received another bark as the dog’s excitement rose. When Trassel got so overwhelmed that he placed his hands onto Wylan’s chest to get closer to his face, Wylan reached down and took his hands. It stressed his hips enough that he calmed down, so Wylan let him go as soon as he had calmed.

When he saw Nina he barked again and rushed over to her. She knelt down in front of him as she dug her hands into his fur and began to baby talk him. “Hello there, hello! I bet I smell like all kind of interesting and same things, don’t I? You’re so handsome, so handsome,” she murmured.

The meeting was cut short as they were reminded why they were there in the first place. Matthias walked down the hall with Inej and Jesper hot on his heels. “Nina?” he called out, his voice more accented than it was normally, which just illustrated how stressed out he was.

“Hey,” she breathed as she rose to her feet. Matthias was by her side in an instant, peeling back the gauze that was just barely soaked with enough blood that it was sticking to the wounds on its own.

Trassel was wuffling and barking to be played with, so Jesper grabbed him under the collar and led him to the back door. “Go run,” he instructed with a firm point to the space that they had for him. He listened and rushed outside so that he could complete his course and get a prize. As soon as the dog had been taken care of, Jesper rushed back to his girlfriend to check on her. “What happened?”

“I was attacked by an old friend of mine’s husband. He was drunk,” Nina explained. She winced as Matthias reached up and peeled the gauze away. It broke some of the scabs that had begun to form there and restarted some of the bleeding.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bathroom to get you cleaned up,” Inej said. She swatted Matthias hand so that he would leave the wounds alone until she could take care of them herself. Matthias did know a decent amount of first aid and wouldn’t make anything horrendously worse, but he wasn’t as knowledgeable as her.

The group moved through the house until they were upstairs in the master bath. While they were walking, the shorter of the two women said, “My name is Inej. You probably guessed that since I’m the only feminine presenting person here that could be called girlfriend,” she chuckled.

“Nina Zenik,” the other replied. “You’re about to go on some sort of tour, aren’t you?”

“I have a couple of shows in Vegas that I’m doing this week,” she nodded. “I was cuddling with the boys while waiting for Wylan to get home when we got his message. I’m the one that knows first aid the best so I got up to help you. It’s wonderful to meet you, Nina, even if I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“At least we got to bring it forward?” she offered with a light laugh.

The master bathroom was huge, so it was no trouble for the five of them to get inside. Matthias took up the spot on the edge of the tub where he could see all of his partners. Wylan and Jesper stood near the shower part of the room, leaning heavily against the gray colored glass with their fingers interwoven between them. Nina was sat down on the counter space between the two sinks while Inej spread out the things that she would need to check and clean the wounds around them. “How did you get these?” she asked as she turned Nina’s face to the side to get a better look at them.

“Ivan broke a beer bottle above my head and some of the glass got on me,” she said. “I think that they’re mostly just weeping so much because they’re on my face, they don’t feel all that deep.”

“They’re not,” the other woman answered. She got a wet cloth with some antibiotic soap and then carefully began to drag it across the wounds. Nina winced and let out a little whimper, holding her hand out towards Matthias. He was there in a second, threading their fingers together so that she could focus on something other than the pain of having her wounds checked.

Once they were cleaned, Inej put some cream on them that would help fight any leftover bacteria and numb the area to dull the pain. “Do you have any allergies?” she asked as she fished through the pile of band aides. Kaz had topical allergies, bursting into hives whenever he had an adhesive that less than medical grade on his skin.

“No,” Nina replied. “Nothing that you’d have in that kit, anyway.”

Inej plucked one of the larger plasters from the pile and then opened it up. She set it over the biggest of the cuts and then used two smaller bandaids for the others until everything was covered. “I don’t think that there’s anything I can do for that bruise, other than this,” she supplied a small jar containing a balm. “It will sting really bad and it smells quite strong, but it helps aide the healing process.”

Nina glanced towards Wylan and he gave her a confident, reassuring nod. The balm that Inej had was a godsend for sore muscles, which he and Kaz often got. “Alright,” Nina agreed with a little nod. Matthias brought his hand to the side of her head that wasn’t being tended to, running his long fingers through her thick hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Inej’s skilled, calloused fingers dipped into the balm and then began to carefully and evenly spread it across the darkened area on Nina’s face. When she finished, she wiped her hands off on a baby wipe and offered Nina a makeup remover wipe. “If you’re going to be staying here tonight then I think you’d like to be comfortable.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied as she took the offered object. Inej cleaned up the rest of the scraps before she ushered the other two boys out of the room. Wylan and Jesper hung in the background long enough to hear them making plans about clothing and where she might sleep.

Eventually, Wylan tugged his boyfriend down to the kitchen so that he could cook something. Eating always settled their nerves and made them feel better, especially since they had both been rather food insecure at one point in their lives. Jesper jumped up onto the island counter in the center of the room, folding his legs underneath him to make balancing easier while watching Wylan working. “So what happened?”

“Well, I got lost in my work, which is why I was late coming home,” he winced. He had forgotten to properly apologize for that and bringing it up had reminded both of them that it had happened in the first place. He set down the tortillas and cheese that he had gotten out of the fridge as he walked over to Jesper. He wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist to bring them closer together, knocking their foreheads together softly. “I’m sorry for not texting you as soon as I realized what time it was and for losing track of time. I know you worry about us when we go silent.”

“Inej had to talk me down like four times. I was a second away from texting Nina to get reassurance that you were alright and she doesn’t know anything about that particular issue yet,” Jesper mumbled. He was pouting slightly but there was real hurt behind his words.

“I’m sorry,” Wylan apologized again. He brushed their lips together in a sweet yet chaste kiss to accent the words with something positive.

It worked and the anger immediately drained from Jesper. “I know. I just worry that something bad has happened to you guys when you don’t respond like that. Like with my mom…”

“I love you,” Wylan whispered as he brought their lips together for another sweet kiss. Jesper’s mom was a sensitive topic that would result in a lot of feelings about his own mother, feelings that Wylan wasn’t quite emotionally prepared to look into that night.

“I love you, too, baby,” he mumbled as he held the side of Wylan’s face.

Neither of them had been able to clock the sound of the garage opening and shutting over Trassel’s barking from the backyard. They lived far enough away from the city that sometimes he found deer and foxes out past the fence that he wanted to talk big game about but could never dream of ever getting to, so they tuned out the sound of his barking at that tempo. They both realized what he had been barking at when the door to the garage shut and Kaz said, “I thought that we had agreed no food was to be left out on the counter.”

Wylan broke away from his boyfriend and then flushed when he realized that he had been caught. They were supposed to make sure that anything that wasn’t actively being eaten or used was put away to make sure that their mischievous puppy didn’t devour it and make himself sick. “I’m sorry, I was supposed to be cooking something for myself since I missed dinner but then Jesper and I got talking and that led to…” he trailed off and felt his face flush harder. “Sorry.”

Clearing his throat loudly to get the attention on himself, Jesper jumped off of the counter and stuffed the food back into the fridge. “That is enough apologizing from Wylan! We don’t want our sweet boy thinking that he has done all the wrong in the world, after all,” he grinned as he wrapped his arms around the aforementioned man’s waist.

“Jesper,” he complained as he was bombarded with kisses. He knew that part of it was actual adoration for him and the other part was the actor trying to make sure that his anxiety didn’t overwhelm him. When it was clear that Jesper wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, Wylan turned to face their boyfriend, “You’re home early. Is everything okay?”

“It was a slow night and I thought that you would all be able to use me here more,” he replied. “Also, I got you all something to eat.”

He placed the bags of food down on the table and Wylan felt his heart sing. It was hard for Kaz to show love in the same way that Jesper did, but his actions meant so much in their relationship. “Thank you,” he breathed as he tried not to cry from how overwhelmed he felt.

“You’re alright,” Kaz reminded him gently as he brought their lips together in a very chaste kiss. That was all that Wylan was going to be able to get from his partner after work. Even if the Crow Club had only a dozen patrons, the amount of strangers that he had to be around when he was working often overwhelmed Kaz to the point where he didn’t feel safe being touched unless he instigated it. He had updated the group chat when he had been in the office for half an hour, which Wylan had seen just before he realized what time it was.

They moved to the living room with the food and an extra set of paper towels. The living room was their biggest work in progress yet since it had been a formal parlor before they had moved in. They were slowly replacing all of the hyper modern furniture with the more vintage pieces that they preferred, which meant that seating was a little bit sparse at the moment. The most modern piece that they had left in the room was the sectional that could transform into a big enough space for all five of them to cuddle together when they wanted to. The TV stand was pulled straight out of the sixties, reshaped by Matthias and Jesper so that it could actually fit their flat screen in the middle of display case. The rug and coffee table had been picked out by Inej, both of them reminiscent of how her house had been decorated before her parents’ accident.

The trio settled in to eat what Kaz had picked up for them, Wylan and Jesper both sitting on the ground with their backs pressed to the couch while Kaz sat in the armchair that he had gotten to help with his pain before they had even moved in. Other than his clothes, it was the only thing from his old apartment above the Crow Club that he had brought with him.

About fifteen minutes later they heard some of their partners coming down the stairs and turned the TV off. Nina was walking hand-in-hand with Matthias, wearing a pair of Jesper’s sweatpants and one of Matthias’ shirts since everyone else had a vastly different body shape compared to her.

“Hey baby,” Jesper said as he moved onto the couch. She smiled, trying to hold back tears as she trekked over to him. She collapsed down onto the couch, her legs pulled up near his chest and her head immediately on his shoulder. He moved his arm around her back and pressed a kiss over the top of the band aids on her forehead. “How are you doing?”

“I’m tired and scared,” she mumbled. “Glad that it was Wylan that helped me, though.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great like that,” Matthias replied. He stooped down and kissed Wylan within an inch of his life. “Thank you for being such an amazing, kindhearted person, min brandstifter.”

“That was one time,” he muttered, his cheeks turning a dark red color with embarrassment.

Inej sat herself down in his lap and stole a couple of his fries. He didn’t mind, since she indulged in processed foods so rarely that she deserved a treat. “It’s fun to tease you.”

He buried his face into her shoulder, which he knew was why she had sat down on him like she had. “Fun for you, maybe.”

Nina laughed, which was a great sound to hear with how clearly worn out she was. The energy in the room got a lot more somber when Jesper asked her once again what had happened. She recounted some elements from her past like she had for Wylan in the car, still refusing to let herself cry. She cuddled in between her boyfriends like they were going to be able to save her from her own bad feelings, something that Wylan remembered doing vividly after he got the news that his father had died.

She finished telling her story and they all agreed to watch something calm to wind down before bed. Wylan finished his food and then gave Inej a sweet kiss on the cheek before he dumped her down onto the couch next to Kaz. He made sure that there was enough space between them that they wouldn’t accidentally crash together. “I’m going to go shower, I know you’ll all probably be in bed by the time I get back,” he sighed. He was both glad and upset that he had gotten off work so late.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Matthias promised as he tenderly kissed his boyfriend. Jesper mimicked the movement as well before settling in next to Nina.

“I can give you a kiss if you want, but what I really want to do is say thank you,” she replied, witty and sharp-tongued even in her exhaustion.

“I would have done it even if you weren’t dating two of my partners,” he replied as he fought back another blush. The only thing that Kaz was able to do was give his hand a squeeze through the thick leather of his gloves, which Wylan was okay with.

He disappeared up the stairs as exhaustion sunk low into his veins. A lot had happened in one night, but the net effect seemed to be good overall. Nina fit right into their flock like she had been there from the beginning.

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