#i wrote this as stress relief over deleted chapter

[yellowcry]

The brain is flooded

When Bruno was walking in the village, avoiding people, he didn't except to find Luisa, panicking over an accident. Luckily, he knew what to do in those situations.

And maybe, just maybe, one day Luisa will return a favour.

Bruno tried to move around quietly, avoiding people. He really wasn't in the mood for another vision. To be fair, he didn't even want to go out of his tower, not even mention the Casita. 

"I am scared of nothing!" Bruno reminded himself, putting his hood on. He was hunching over to make himself look smaller.

He heard a loud crack. At first, Bruno didn't want to see what was going on; it wasn't his problem, and he would only get unnecessary attention. But his intuition told him that he had to check on whatever was happening. And his intuition was rarely lying. Was it somehow related to his gift, or maybe he actually got some bit of luck? Even if it was really strange, Bruno wanted to have at least some hope, even if it was way too groundless.

Soon, he realized that there wasn't really anybody besides him and a little girl. For a second, he stared, then winced as he realized that it was Luisa. She was trembling as she hunched over next to the broken, half-painted fence. Her eyes widened, she stared at the white stockade, whispering something under her nose, breathing rapidly and shallowly.

"God!" Bruno screamed, rushing to his sobrina. He felt his heart pounding from worry, but he couldn't let his own worries get in the way of helping Luisa, as she definitely needed some help. He could never be more grateful for the lack of people, knowing that overwhelming crowd was the last thing his sobrina needed right now. There wasn't a need to know about what happened, as Bruno understood it really well.

He knew that Luisa's gift demanded all-time control. In the first few months after her ceremony, she was even more of a walking disaster than Agustin and Pepa together. Bruno remembered that most people avoided physical contact with Luisa for about two weeks after she gained her strength. But as time passed by, she seemed to maintain better control over her immense power.

Well, it might be better, but it definitely wasn't perfect.

Brumo kicked away the paintbrush that lay in front of Luisa and kneeled, putting his palm on her shoulder supportively as he whispered softly, trying to get Luisa's attention. "Luisa, can you hear me?" 

She nodded weakly, still crying. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I didn't..."

"Shhh, it's okay." He gently patted her head, trying to stay calm too. "Just breathe... Okay?"Breathe in, breathe out." Bruno was counting and taking deep breaths to show Luisa what she had to do. "Luisa, what do you see?" Bruno's hands were also shaking from anxiety, but after so many years, he learned not to lose his head, he couldn't let his own anxiety stand in front of Luisa's well-being.

Her breathing hitched. "What?" The voice was almost whispering, she looked at Bruno with eyes, wide as two plates.

Bruno lifted her chin a little. "Just tell me, what do you see around, please?"

Luisa pursed her trembling lips. "I... I see... you... the fence," Bruno nodded, asking to continue. Her eyes were glancing around, focusing on what she could see. "Tía's cloud... the mountains.. a donkey..."

"Good job, kiddo." Bruno gave her an awkward but honest smile, focusing on Luisa's face to keep himself steady. "How about what you can feel? I mean with your skin." His grip on Luisa's shoulder was a bit too strong, that his fingers turned white.

Bruno felt like going back to his tower for weeks, days, maybe even months.

She looked down, closing her eyes. "Y-your hand on my shoulder, my hair on my forehead..." She let out a shaking whiff, but it was better than before. "I.. I feel the sun... my blouse, the..."

Bruno put his hand in front of her. "That's enough." His sobrina nodded, biting her lip. "Now, tell me what you're hearing."

Luisa thought for a moment before speaking. "There... There's a rustle of grass; the donkeys are jaking; your voice." Luisa's body wasn't trembling anymore, as she was focusing on something else than her own feelings, which helped her to go back to reality.

Bruno nodded, patting her shoulder. "Now smells."

"There's paint, also the flowers." Luisa's voice was now pretty normal, still raw from worry, but she stopped shaking, signaling that her panic attack was getting away.

"Oh, cool! Now..." Bruno put his hand into his pocket, searching for something. "Give me your hand." Luisa smiled weakly, stretching her palm. "What can you taste?" He put a little chocolate candy in her arm.

She giggled happily, clinging to Bruno's neck. "Thank you!" He fell under a sudden weight and rolled on the young grass. Luisa was now settled down and ready to run forward again. Bruno patted her spine with an awkward smile. "I.. I didn't mean to break the fence..." Her voice was firm now but still filled with deep guilt as she hid her face in Brunk's shirt.

Luisa looked into his eyes as if she begged him to believe her. "Hey, take it easy." He shook his head, looking away to stop eye contact. "I-It's okay!" 

"But the fence..." She protested hugging him tighter, but Bruno immediately interrupted her.

Luisa's quiet and scared voice was breaking his heart. She was a child, an eight-year-old shouldn't hyperventilate from a stupid accident that meant nothing.

"It's easy to fix. It's just a fence." Bruno assured Luisa, as she was still hugging his neck.

His sobrina muttered. "I had to be careful... I just..." She sobbed into Bruno's shoulder. "I just got lost in my thoughts.".

"Hey, you can't control your mind!" Bruno chuckled nervously. "I'm getting lost in my own thoughts all the time! B-becides! You are way more important than some fence!" He shook his head, convincing his sobrina that there wasn't anything wrong. 

Luisa sighed, finally letting go. "I know... I just... I don't wanna disappoint Senõr Cuellar... I-I... I promise to help him..." She looked down in shame as if she had just caused a problem. "And then... I just..." She wiped the tears from her eyes, trembling from despair at the knowledgeably that she wasn't strong enough to control herself.

"Was it like you can't breathe?" Bruno asked, sitting up and rubbing his hair. Luisa pursed her lips and nodded weakly. "It's okay... Or, well, not really, but doesn't It happen to everyone? So... if this happens again... try to do the thing I asked you to, alright?" Bruno twisted his arms around each other, explaining. "Like trying to say what you see and feel... it's helping!"

Luisa nodded unsurely. "Okay, I'll try." She bit her lip, looking down. "What was it even?" She stared at Bruno with blank eyes, hoping to get an explanation for this overwhelming sense of fear she had just a few minutes before.

"Oh..." Bruno scratched his head nervously. "Well... Books are calling this something like a... panic attack." He shrugged unsurely, raising his voice. "Don't know why it's happening, but the thing I've done to you usually helps me."

 

Luisa nodded, proving that the grounding had indeed worked. "Can you... Can you, please, don't tell Abuela?" She looked at him with pleading eyes, her lips trembling.

He sighed, knowing that Mama wouldn't be pleased with this; she didn't like it when Bruno had those, and Luisa wouldn't be anything different. He put his fingers on his lips, showing that this secret would be saved. "Hey, I'm quiet as a mouse."

His sobrina hugged him once again, this time lifting him from the ground. Bruno gasped for air in surprise, feeling the strong arms wrapped around his body. "You're the best!" Luisa screamed, clutching him tighter but still being careful not to cause any real damage.

Bruno giggled awkwardly, patting her spine. "There you go..." 

Luisa nodded, finally letting him go. "Alright..." She rubbed her palms, getting ready to work again. "I got it; just fix the damage and go back to my chores." She let out a weak laugh as Bruno ruffled her hair. "Tíoo!" She shook her head, trying to get away. For now, Luisa was okay, and it was the main thing. Bruno really hoped that his sobrina would never need to ground herself ever again, but he didn't dare to check it with his gift.

The girl stared at the destruction once again, clutching her hands into fists. "Just... Do this. As fast as you can." She muttered quietly, which forced Bruno to realize that Luisa needed a break. She was probably working for an hour or two already.

Bruno put his hand on her shoulder. "Kiddo, do you... want some help?"

He wasn't sure why he even asked this. Maybe it was his love for the family... Or maybe he just wanted to have a reason to avoid creating another vision. Bruno loved his family, really loved, with all his heart, even if he rarely visited even family meals, let alone any other contact. But he loved his siblings, his mom, and his sobrinos. And right now he didn't want to leave Luisa alone.

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Really?" Bruno nodded weakly, and he was squeezed into another hug a second later.

"I'd like it!" Luisa screamed in happiness. People usually didn't offer help to her, which made this little gesture even more important. "I didn't know you know how to fix fences."

"Uhh..." Bruno scratches the back of his head. "I don't." There was a bit of silence. "I will be happy to learn this skill." He promised, knowing that his sobrina was pretty good in the repair of different kinds of things, even if he always thought that she was way too young for this.

"Oh, okay." Luisa got off him. "At first we need to..."

[soleilocverse]

Chapter 21 Commentary

Wrote this ch over. Many a moon. But while finishing it up had a strep throat scare While 3 days away from a big test that I can only take once a year and i was. Very Stressed.

"Can you bring me,” he names the first thing he can think of just to get Ray to move, “a bottle of water, please. And then can you please just come get Ness?” 

(I keep accidentally deleting these draft notes aaa) but I think it's cool to see Soleil being Actively manipulative? He did it too when he asked Ray for stuff but he's v aware of how to change his demeanor to get what he wants/appease people. Like, it's always been along the lines of being submissive in some way but there are different ways of playing that (in this case, by submitting to ray's desire to bring something to him, even if he doesn't think he needs anything, he can move things along.) and he is aware that the others want him to be able to ask for things Plus they defer to him when it's Ness in mind

so while he tends not to ask for things partially bc he genuinely doesn't want to be a burden/ask for too much/owe them for it/etc, there's also the constantly analyzing part of him that knows if he doesn't ask for much, when he Really wants to ask for something, even if it's something he thinks the others might be hesitant about (but not Too hesitant. he wants to play Into their feelings, not try and oppose them) then he's much more likely to get it. like. having ray take ness and leave soleil in the suite while barely giving him time to think about it

"Hi, baby" croon

Was re-reading and got walloped noticing that I'd written Soleil going "hi, baby" over the phone in the same kind of croon that he has when he goes "hi, baby" when Ness wakes up for him in the basement and i,,,, it wasn't intentional, it's just a thing he Does and i think it's going to keep popping up. Just that, swell of relief and a teeny bit of desperation coming out in that croon.

i keep wanting to write ness in a high chair and then i have to go No booster seat, u know why, bc i think it'd be insanely cute for him to play w/ things on a tray table or to see him kick his little feet but he's not quite That tiny

Cyrill's texting

I had to go back and edit over Cyrill's texting so much bc i was like. babes. this is just You (specifically, i wrote "totes" in my author notes and then went back and saw him type totes twice and was like.......hm don't like that HKDSJHSK), so, i've decided cyrill uses a lot more shortened words like tgt/ofc. he doesn't tend to type out the "you" "are" etc and uses a lot of emojis. i think actually, he would be an Atrocious texter when it comes to katie bc he thinks it's funny when he shortens words so much it's just consonants or just straight up only uses emojis and makes her figure out what he's trying to say (which she tends to do!!)

Soft versions because my brain is too fried to get into that headspace rn: "🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒😩😩🤧😫😫 let me out" when he gets sick or "💗🐶😷🤒😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭, he’s so upset about it too 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔" when soleil gets sick (i think this will also mutate into soleil just Being the pink heart eventually but for clarity's sake it's pink haired dog 😭)

He only manages a couple and spends the rest of the time running his finger pad up and down the sleeve, feeling the little bumps of the crackers and not really hearing the crackling of the plastic.

idk the sensory of mindlessly running his finger up and down the bumps got me here and then i had to parallel it w/ ness's spine

He has the oddly calm thought that “this is it.” If Ness dies, this is it for him, forever. There won't be anything left.

HI, i want you to know that this entire scene came to me into a dream and these lines absolutely blasted the fuck out of me.

[evertidings]

— MARCH 27, 2022.

WHAT I DID.

so, good news and bad news. the bad news is something you already know: that i cut three thousand words from chapter seven because i was unhappy with it. i hate doing this but the content stressed me out so much. it felt out of place, unnatural and just overall not something i was proud to be writing. so i cut it and it now lies in my ‘scraps’ doc and might never see the light of day. or maybe it will.

the good news is that i figured out what the fuck i’m doing. i know i said that last week but seriously, i figured it out. i wrote a good chunk of it over the past two or three days and i already like it a lot more. it matches the style of previous chapters and isn’t a random intrusion anymore, which is a relief.

only problem is that it still requires me to branch off paths for each of the ros, which means a lotttt of writing. it saves me some time (in the scenes that all ros get regardless of path, if i have five choices, for example, then i have to write twenty-five reactions) but it’s still tedious. still, i hope it encourages everyone to play multiple routes. you constantly get exclusive content by choosing to accompany an ro somewhere that they won’t reveal to the group, which i always find fun.

for twine, i managed to import all of K’s scene and some of Rylan’s. it’s going smoothly so it’ll be easy to get the rest of the chapter done soon. we’re getting closer to releasing the twine demo now (months after i thought i’d get it done) but hey, progress.

GOALS FOR NEXT WEEK.

work on chapter seven

import Rylan’s scene

STATS.

242,803 words (+1.45k ; includes both deletion and addition of chapter seven content)

[beck-a-leck]

Oh oh I wanna hear some Wells of Silence, please!

Okay!

Forgive me if I go a bit off the rails. I think the last post I made talking about Wells, I was actually talking about a spinoff piece I am working on for the Obi-Wan show. BUT to cover all my bases, I will talk about both.

(This might get long and there will be Obi-Wan Kenobi spoilers, so I'm placing the rambling under a cut)

Okay So. Wells of Silence.

That is a canon-compliant star wars fic I wrote a few years back featuring female Anakin and male Padme to see how much might change to canon while still ending in the same place as canon. So Anakin was the one who ended up pregnant with the twins and it changes so many things. The fic starts with the discovery of her pregnancy during the late days of the clone wars, goes through how the Jedi and Anakin and Padme handled things (spoilers. Lies are told and secrets kept that make things even more stressful for all involved), the birth of the twins, the inevitable outing Anakin and Padme's secret marriage, and builds up to and goes through the events of Revenge of the Sith.

It is canon compliant, the story ends as canon does, with just a few changes reflecting the AU's canon.

You can read it on AO3!

And here's a little snippet from the first chapter

Despite the heaviness in her body and the soothing presence, Anakin was beginning to feel a growing sense of dread. This was wrong; the soft presence, the gentle administrations, the poking and prodding. She wasn’t supposed to be here… but where was here? Her brain struggled sluggishly to put the pieces together. The hands returned and wrapped something sticky around Anakin’s left elbow. Anakin forced her eyes to open; they resisted. Then the hands moved and began pulling at her shirt. Anakin panicked. Her right hand flashed up, grabbing an intruding hand by the wrist. Her eyes shot open, she was instantly assaulted by bright white light. “Calm down, Skywalker. You’re alright; you’re in the infirmary.” Anakin blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the light. She focused on the gentle face of Stass Allie. “What happened?” she asked, releasing the healer’s hand. To her immense relief, Allie took a step back from the bedside. “You collapsed after the Outer Rim meeting, do you remember?” It took a moment for the memory to come back to Anakin. “Yes, I remember.” “Good. You’re severely dehydrated and your blood sugar is incredibly low; when you stood up too quickly your blood pressure tanked. I don’t know where you were off to in such a hurry, but you barely made it out the door.” The healer frowned at Anakin. “Obi-Wan said you had been feeling ill for a while. If you were sick you should have come to a healer.” Anakin knew exactly why she didn’t go to a healer, but she wasn’t about to tell Allie that. She rubbed at her temples, settling for a half truth. “I’ve had a migraine for the last few days. I thought it would go away on its own, but it hasn't. I was actually going to come for something later.”

Wells of Silence has also inspired several extras and spinoffs and AUs of an AU, which I have collected into a series on AO3. The latest in that series has been inspired by the Obi-Wan Kenobi show, in which I am taking certain select scenes from the show and writing them as they would play out within the Wells of Silence universe.

This piece is called Echos - Obi-Wan Kenobi (i have another Echos piece that included deleted scenes and post-Wells content for the AU. Including the OT movies.)

As episodes of the show air, I'm going to keep posting new chapters when there are things I think would play out slightly differently (or I just love the angst)

Like this scene

"I heard Jedi could make things float. Can you make me float?" "What?" Ben nearly stopped in his tracks, looking back at the girl trailing in his wake. Long brown hair, deep brown eyes. Not blonde and blue. But those words from the Princess as she pretended to balance across a crack in the pavement had thrown him over twenty years back to the past. That had been one of the first things Anakin had asked to learn when they returned to the Temple after Naboo. Anakin quietly and hungrily watches some older padawans practicing catching and throwing each other over the pools while Obi-Wan schedules some swim lessons for the desert dweller. Laughter and shouts echo around the pools as a padawan, who expected to be assisted over the wide stretch of water freezes in mid-air while her teammates coordinate to keep her airborne. Laughing and kicking uselessly in the air, she tells her friends to let her down, only to realize her mistake a half second later when they let her plunge into the water. Anakin wants to float, wants to fly. She’s had a taste of escaping gravity and now she can’t get enough. As they turn to leave, she hurries to Obi-Wan’s side, tugs at his sleeve, and points to the padawans. “Can you teach me that? Can you make me float too?” Obi-Wan smiles and ruffles her hair. “Learn to swim first, Anakin, and I’ll toss you into the pool as many times as you want.” “Make me float.” And he was brought back to the present, staring at that determined face. A child daring Ben to prove himself and give into demands. Fortunately, Ben had many years of practice resisting dares of that manner. “No.”

[somedayonbroadway]

Oh my god!!! I remember “The Resistance”. That was so freaking good! Have you ever planned to continue that story? It was so interesting, I feel like you should’ve gotten so much more love for that

A Lawyer

Prolouge

A Journalist

A/N: Hi Anon! I actually hadn’t truly planned on continuing this story when I had first started writing it. I wrote the prologue expecting no one to really like it or care about it too much, but I enjoy writing this, so I’m gonna try to keep going if you guys really would like to see more. I really hope you enjoy David’s chapter! I encourage ya’ll to reread Katherine’s chapter, since I change one small but slightly significant thing. Thank you all!

Please enjoy!

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was always in perfect timing. The way the pen hit the desk time and time again was at the same interval every time.

“Les…”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Les, please. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Leslie Carter Jacobs, I’m trying to work!”

The ticking stopped.

It didn’t make anyone feel any better.

“David!” someone scolded.

David’s head hurt. “Sarah, can you at least take him into another room? Please? I’m really trying to work,” he insisted, looking back onto his desk where there were a pile of files and textbooks and notes sitting, waiting for him.

He couldn’t stop. He had to keep studying. He had to keep writing. He had to keep working. He couldn’t stop now. He rubbed at his tired eyes and straightened up in his seat, trying to focus again.

The second he tried to open a new file, a hand came down and stopped him. He looked up to find fiercely driven eyes. “David, studying is not going to us anywhere and you know it.”

“Denton needs the case files back, Sarah. I have to get them done—“

“And your little brother needs you right now!” the young woman countered, pointing over to the little boy sitting silently in a chair on the other side of the room at the kitchen table.

For the first time in a long time, David forced himself to turn, his heart breaking at the sight. That little boy, not even ten years old, would always hold his entire heart. He hadn’t seen Les smile in weeks.

He hadn’t heard Les speak in weeks.

What was once a little ball of energy, spouting out what he believed in like he’d always been taught was now a shell of a little boy who was so quiet and lost.

The world was so much darker than it had once been, in every sense of the word.

So David sighed and stood to his feet, offering Sarah an apologetic glance before he made his way over to the little boy, leaning on the table beside him. “Les… I’m sorry, bubeleh…” he spoke softly, reaching to run a hand through the boy’s hair. Les used to push him away.

He hardly moved now.

“Les… please look at me?” he asked, pushing away from the table and sitting on his knees beneath the child, looking up at him now as Sarah stepped up behind him. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just… I’m stressed out. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He waited, almost as though he expected the boy to speak to him even though deep down he knew that was not the case. “Can you forgive me?”

Only glancing up at him, Les nodded, gripping at the sides of his chair now, desperately trying to keep himself from fidgeting. He knew David didn’t like it when he fidgeted. All David could do was let out a breath before leaning over to press a kiss to the child’s head. Les did not react. Not really. He just sat there, tears building up in his eyes all over again. David did not know what to do.

He turned, ready to ask Sarah for help again, before he caught her snooping through the papers on his desk. “Neshama—“

“This is Aba and Ima’s case file, isn’t it?” she breathed. That was what got Les to look up.

David rushed over, pulling the file from the young woman’s hands. “You don’t need to look at that,” he tried to explain.

“And you do?” There were tears in Sarah’s eyes, no doubt the images and words in that case file forever engraved in her mind. “David… What did they do? This says they committed treason—“

“I know what it says, Sarah!” The man tried to breathe. Snapping at his family would get him nowhere, he knew that. Still, exhaustion of every form seemed to catch up with him all at once and he could hardly handle it. He couldn’t break now. He had to keep going. He had to figure this out. “Les… please go to your room…” he asked quietly, only glancing back at the boy who had wide, terrified brown eyes gazing up at him.

Eventually, the child did as he was told. So David focused his attention on Sarah, who was simply standing there, waiting for an explanation. “Denton found these for me. He’s trying to help me fight to free them. We’re doing all we can, but Habeas Corpus was suspended and The Angel Army isn’t the police. This is how they’re doing things now…”

It was no secret, the impending war that was inevitable now. Someone was trying to take over New York, slowly working their way into power before trying for the entire country. They couldn’t get out unless they had a visa to get out. At least, not at the airport. Some were trying to drive, getting caught by The Angel Army at the border. Most that fled, fled to Canada. Canada was very welcoming of this as they saw an entire people in trouble. But not everyone could flee.

David knew from the beginning he wouldn’t make it out.

“David, what are we gonna do?” Sarah whispered, fear clear in her voice.

In all honesty, David had no idea. So he said nothing, choosing instead to avert his gaze to the floor.

“Say something!” Sarah demanded desperately, tears falling down her cheeks.

She knew as well as anyone what was coming for her.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you or Les,” he insisted, his voice quiet and low, almost as though he was scared someone might be listening.

Someone might’ve been listening.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

A groan escaped David. He hadn’t meant it.

For weeks they’d been trying to figure out what to do with a boy who wouldn’t speak anymore. All he would do was take that stupid pen to any hard surface and begin the excruciating tap that made David want to tear his hear out whenever he needed to focus.

Before he could ask his brother to stop the tapping again, there was a knock on his door. His heart dropped. His gaze rushed to Sarah. “Get Les and hide in the chest at the foot of his bed.” There was no room for argument. So Sarah rushed from the room. The ticking stopped. As soon as David heard the small thud of the chest closing, he took a breath and reached for the handle of the door, opening it cautiously. He could’ve cried in relief when he saw who it was. “Denton—“

“David, we don’t have time. Where are your brother and sister?” It would forever amaze David how calm Denton seemed to be.

“They’re hiding. I thought you were—“

“The Angel Army is right behind me. I managed to secure space on a smugglers truck,” he forced out. “There’s only room enough for two.”

David paled.

“David, there’s are no more rules—“

“Professor—“

“They broke into my building. They trashed the place. They took good people down. They tampered with evidence. The laws don’t matter to them. They traced your computer from mine. Delete everything you have and tell me where Sarah and Les are. Now.” Tears built up in his eyes as David tried desperately to remember how to breathe again. With a shaky hand, he pointed to Les’s bedroom. Denton nodded, rushing through the room. “Okay. I’ll get them. Delete all evidence on your computer, David! Don’t give them a reason to take you!” With that, he rushed into the room.

David opened his computer back up, finding a picture of his parents staring back at him, smiling, happy and so ready to protect him from the world.

He let out a shaken breath as the files and articles and everything else popped back up. And he began deleting everything he could. Every file, every document.

And suddenly his hand began shaking. He froze over an article, his eyes scanning the thing one more time.

August 27th, 2095

Riot Breaks Out In Lower Manhattan

Two killed, thirteen injured.

Written by Katherine Plumber

Then, just below it, another.

November 9th, 2095

Sun Ace Reporter Missing

Woman Number 18 Missing in New York

Written by Adam Darcy

He looked back, seeing Denton coming back out with his family in tow. So he looked back at that screen and deleted everything that was left.

“David, what’s going on?”

Les was in Sarah’s arms, clinging to her, scared to death. Sarah was refusing to show her own fear. All David could do was shake his head. “Sarah, I’m so sorry…”

Sarah tried to run to him. Denton held her back. “We don’t have time.”

“Sarah, tell Les that I love him, everyday,” David pleaded.

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m not leaving,” she insisted, though it was clear in her voice she was on the verge of breaking. “Denton, you can take Les. I am not leaving—“

“Sarah…” David choked, tears falling down his cheeks when he saw her distress. “I love you…” he whispered.

The young woman let out a sob and pushed past Denton and into David’s arms. “I love you, Neshama,” she breathed into his ear, knowing what had to be done.

This was her last chance.

David held his sister and his brother for a moment, pressing a kiss to both of their heads before he heard sirens. “You have to go!”

He looked up to Denton who gave him a heartbroken look as he ushered the two most important people in David’s life out the door, turning back to the boy for only a moment. “David…” he called. Looking back only for a moment, he caught the young man’s gaze.

Twenty three.

So young.

“Run.”

It was all David could do to comply, using the fire escape and running for his life through a city that was once known as the greatest city in the world.

——————————————————

One of the brightest, loudest cities in the world…

It used to be so bright…

David could remember a time when he’d wished he could see the stars.

Now he just wished to be home again, where the sky didn’t matter as much as the people around him.

“Mayer!”

Sometimes David swore he’d hear his father answer to his name when it was called. It always took him a moment to remember all because he didn’t want to. He wanted to be able to get lost in a dream that was so far out of his reach. He couldn’t. He had to stay focused. He had to stay in the moment.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s my coffee?!”

“Coming, sir.”

Coffee.

He’d give anything for something stronger.

He didn’t used to drink. At least, not much. Especially not around Les.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He did it without noticing now.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He tried not to think about it, though it consumed his mind more often than not.

All he wanted was to know that his family was safe.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He’d give anything to turn around and see his little brother.

He swore silently to himself he’d never snap at that little boy again.

Only, that boy wasn’t so little anymore.

And that boy might not be anywhere where he could get to him.

“Walsh! Coffee!”

David tensed at the tone, shaking his head as he shoved his pen in his pocket and grabbing a mug from the cabinet above him and pouring the coffee from the coffee pot just as it was ready.

He exhaled smoothly, trying to clear his head as he turned, only to find someone standing just behind him, arms across their chest.

He nearly dropped the coffee.

“Sophia…” he breathed when he saw her, her red hair tied up at the back of her head, some of her curls falling to frame her face. She wore no makeup. She wasn’t allowed. Not unless her husband gave her permission.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, a bit shocked. David didn’t blame her.

He opened his mouth to speak.

Someone beat him to it. “Mayer! Now!”

“Coming, sir!”

Sophia averted her gaze to the floor.

She wasn’t supposed to be in a room with a man that wasn’t her husband alone.

There were rules set in place. Rules to protect her. At least, that's what they said.

He couldn’t stop to talk. He had to get the man his coffee.

So, with one more glance at the young woman he was not truly supposed to speak to, he rushed up the stairs and out of the room, shaking his head as he reached his destination. “Coffee, sir. Sorry for the wait…” he apologized, his head slightly bowed as he entered an extravagant office that stood beautifully behind two large brown doors.

None of the man’s wives were allowed in.

Women weren’t allowed to read or write. There was nothing of importance for them there.

David cringed at the thought.

The man hardly looked up as David set his coffee on his desk for him, watching him write in the book he always was writing in. He longed to read it.

Nothing about this new society made sense. Whoever was in charge made sure of that. But David wasn’t an idiot.

There was no one person in charge.

That’s why no one could stop this.

They didn’t know who they were trying to stop.

They didn’t know how many they were trying to stop.

But if David had one thing left on his side, it was his drive. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Weisel?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him and biting at his lip.

The man, Mr. Weisel, took a sip of his coffee. He waved his hand over to some files and books on his desk. “Just put those away for me, Walsh,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

David took the things and did as he was told.

Just not right away.

Mayer Walsh might be a simple assistant to an important man in Safe Haven.

David Jacobs was a law student just about ready to explode.

To play the game, one had to first know the rules. And once one was in the game, one had a chance to win.

Right?

It was not the first time David had done this. And it wouldn’t be the last.

He took the files over to the filing cabinet on the opposite side of the room, taking old files out as he placed new ones in, hiding them beneath his dull, brown blazer.

“Anything else I can do for you, sir?” he asked, turning his back to the man and waiting for a response.

He got a grunt as a response that he could only assume was a no.

When he tried to leave, he noticed brown eyes peeking in through the small crack in the door. His heart stuttered for a moment as he thought he might be ratted out right then and there.

But those eyes only blinked before leaving.

Still, David stood paralyzed on the spot.

“Is there a problem, Walsh?”

“N-no problem, sir…” the young man forced out, clearing his throat before he tightened his grip on the hidden files he held. Files he’d been reading and sneaking off with for months.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, David forced himself from the room, finding his way out of the house and into the backyard where there was a small shed set up to be a guest room of sorts.

He looked around in the dark night, just trying to make sure he hadn’t been followed before he pulled the thin door open and locked himself in, dropping the files down on a dimly lit table.

Then he pulled the pen from his pocket and glanced up at the clock that hung sadly and lonely on the wall beside him.

He had exactly one hour before Weisel would notice something was off. Before Weisel opened that filing cabinet again.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He hit the table in perfect timing.

Perfect intervals ever time, his beat never wavering.

He could do this.

He’d known from the beginning he wouldn't be making it out.

All he had to do was stay focused.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Perfect timing.

A/N: Okay, so there’s admittedly a lot going on in this chapter where we sort of learn more about this world and what was happening before. If you guys have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you so much for reading!

Thank you so much for bringing back this story, Anon!

—

Tag List

@that-thing-in-the-closet

@deadthingsinlace

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@myheartissetinmotion

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@thatnerdinthecorner

@happyhufflepuff73

@thatchaoticneutraltrainwreck

@bluejay-the-newsie

@addyez

@falling-out-trees-101

@i-aint-tapped-out

@buttons-in-the-refuge

Let me know if anyone would like to be adding or taken off of the tag list, please!

[aqmarion]

4, 10, 17? 💕

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I had this mostly finished and then it hit midnight and my computer was like “bitch you told me not to let you on Tumblr after midnight”. So uh. Let’s try again. May be a little less heartfelt because rewriting sucks.

4: What was the first fic you wrote?

There was lots of brainstorming for different things, but the only thing I’ve finished for this fandom so far is Crushes and Cake Pops.

There was lots of Doctor Who and Percy Jackson before that, I believe starting with chapter 1 of “A (Long) Percy Jackson Musical”, which never got a chapter 2 lmao.

If I knew about fanfiction and like, gay people, back when I was like 6 or 7 I probably would’ve written some Daphne/Velma because I have distinct memories of sitting around day dreaming of Scooby Doo stories that involved Daphne breaking up with Fred.

10: Do you ever put any of your own traits or personality into any of your characters? Which?

I think my signature is going to be “Courtney’s out of character in a way that’s almost certainly a result of Mary projecting on her”. Not a great writing strategy but fanfic is my fun stress relief writing so unless someone wants to help me un-Mary my Courtneys she’s going to be an anxious fuck asdfghjksdfgh

17: Favorite fic that is not written by you?

Fishing for compliments, huh?

The paragraph about Something Borrowed was really long before it got deleted, but the tl;dr of it is “it was fucking amazing”, “literally life changing in a similar way to how I say Percy Jackson was literally life changing and I’ve written essays about that shit”, and “sometimes I’ll just be chilling and start thinking about all the what ifs I thought of between chapters and after it was finished and let myself bask in the thought of them because wow I loved that fic”

Just The Game We’re In by @artificialortega. I have a thing for multichapter fics that occasionally cause me slight physical pain while reading while also having a happy ending, and Game absolutely joined SB on that list. The writing is wonderful, and I don’t think I could give it an adequate review without taking a weekend to binge it and then spending 3 days recovering. It’s another one I like to indulge in what ifs about mostly “what if, at any point in the story, Willam chose to go to therapy”

An Intervention, A Coincidence, and A Choice by Circe over on AQ is wonderful and I love it. I highly recommend it and wish I could DM Circe so I could give her a full review during a 6th-ish reread

Also a brief shout out to that Doctor Who circus AU I read over on fanfictionnet a lifetime ago for planting the seed of curiosity that led to my current obsession with aerial silks.

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Deleted Scenes - End of 27/Beginning of 28

Author’s Note: I was really cruel with how I was going to end the chapter originally. Chloe saved you guys.

Chapter Summary: I forgot Chloe still attended Dupont when I first wrote this. Oops.

Adrien is exiting the classroom last. He can’t remember what’s next on his schedule, but regardless of what it is it loses priority the moment he feels it.

Marinette is in trouble.

She’s not as stressed as she has been before, but that doesn’t comfort him because he can tell she’s nearing hibernation.

He needs to find her.

Where is she?

What’s happening?

She should be home by now. What could possibly-

His heart sinks as he exits the school. Alix and Kim are hurling insults and snowballs towards the bakery.

Towards Marinette, who is swaying where she stands.

Alya seems to be joining.

“Stop!” he needs to get to her, he needs to get to her, heneedstogettoher-

Alya and Nino hold him back, “Hey, man, it’s fine. You don’t hafta’ keep up the act anymore-” “Please-”

“Jeez, she’s really got you all wrapped up? Don’t worry Adrien, Marinette can’t hurt you anymore. We won’t let her.” Alya attempts to comfort him.

“What?” “This is a great solution actually. This way it looks like you’re on her side, but you don’t actually have to help that brat.” Alya continues, “Keep pretending that you’re trying to help, and she can’t get mad at you.”

“No no no-” She’s hibernating right there. She’s fallen over and is lying in the snow and they’re still throwing snowballs at her no nonononono-

“Dude, calm down. It’s okay. Just breathe.” Nino frowns at Adrien’s clear panic, and the two lead him inside worriedly, away from Marinette.

Aurore passes him on the stairs, noticing the scene before her and hurrying to the bottom.

He can’t see right, It’s been snowing all day, and the temperature is far lower than it normally is in February. She’s right there.

“Hey Sunshine, you’re looking a little pale.” Alya frowns.

“I- I- I need to use the bathroom.” for once he’s grateful how easy it is for him to play the part of ‘perfectly fine’. Though it’s not exactly convincing at the moment.

“Alright, but I’ll wait outside.” Nino looks concerned.

Alya waves goodbye, off to take Lila her homework for the day. She was absent today for whatever reason, but Adrien really doesn’t care why.

He shuts himself in a stall, shaking. Nino is outside so he can’t transform or even talk to Plagg.

Marinette is outside and she’s hibernating and she’s still in the snowandhecan’tgettoherand-

Plagg interrupts his thoughts by handing him his phone silently. Adrien stares at it blankly.

This can’t get him to Marinette.

This won’t wake her up.

How long has she been asleep now? It’s-

Plagg pokes him, unlocking the phone and opening his messages, looking at Adrien meaningfully.

He doesn’t understand, only staring blankly while his brain tries to catch up. Finally he connects the dots.

  Hug This Boy: guys

Hug This Boy: plese

Hug This Boy: shes otside

Hug This Boy: i cant get to her

  Kid Mime: slow down

Kid Mime: whats happening

  Hug This Boy: they wont let me

Hug This Boy: i need to

  Melodie: Adrien, what’s wrong?

  Hug This Boy: i cant

Hug This Boy: shes fell ovr

Hug This Boy: shes rite there

  The Mom Friend: r u ok?

The Mom Friend: breath

  Hug This Boy: they were throwi snwobals and she fell is ben swing alday

  Felix: Adrien, you need to breathe. What is happening?

  Kid Mime: did something happen to mari?

Kid Mime: were all on our way wats going on

  Hug This Boy: ses hiberning an she sill ousdie a tey won let me

Hug This Boy: help her lila isn even here

  Melodie: Marinette is sleeping outside because someone threw snowballs at her and your classmates won’t let you help her?

Hug This Boy: ye

Hug This Boy: s

  Kid Mime: well be their soon u need 2 breath itll be ok

  Adrien doesn’t respond, he’s shaking too much and they know now so there’s no reason. It’s honestly a miracle that they were able to decipher anything intelligible from that mess. He can’t focus well because the longer he’s separated, the harder it is for him to keep himself from transforming - Nino or no Nino - so that he can just get to her.

She shouldn’t be outside this long in the snow.

She’s been hibernating too long.

Too long and too far from him.

It’s one thing when she was at Fu’s place, where the Guardian can keep her from going too far, but alone? She needs to be near other miraculouses to keep from slipping too far, but she needs to be near him to wake up.

It’s been too long.

What if she doesn’t wake up?

  -chapter break-

  This isn’t how they planned on spending their day. They’d all just seen Marinette, and now the four of them are hurrying to the bakery.

“Why aren’t her parents doing something?” Allegra asks.

“Maybe they are? Adrien didn’t seem like he was in any condition to elaborate.”

“He didn’t respond. Do you think he’s okay? How long has Marinette been outside? Do you think she-” Allan isn’t handling this much better.

“I am sure that things will turn out fine.” Felix assures.

It doesn’t take much longer for them to arrive. They don’t see her immediately.

Instead, they see a black haired boy in red and a blonde girl in blue crouched near the bakery’s side door.

Crouched above Marinette, seemingly trying to help her up - either to be standing or awake, they aren’t picky.

“Marinette!”

At Allegra’s call, the two strangers look up.

“You’re all here for Mari?” The blonde questions.

“Yes.” Allan says, approaching his friend.

“I hope one of you has a key, her parents are out today and she must have dropped hers. It’s locked. We would have taken her inside the school but…” She trails off, looking at them meaningfully.

The group nods, and Claude produces a key. Allan and Allegra move her inside, and Felix and Claude remain outside to talk to the pair.

“Will you b-be able to handle this?” the boy lacks the self-assured tone of the girl.

Felix nods, and the two strangers part ways.

Felix starts to go upstairs, but pauses when Claude remains in the doorway.

“Is everything alright, Claude?”

“Yeah. Go on up, give me a minute.”

Felix nods, and goes to join the others upstairs.

Claude steps outside and shuts the door carefully behind them.

He crosses the street purposefully, entering the school before he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. 

That is easily solved by asking someone - not one of them of course - for directions. He’s guessing at best, but at the worst he’ll just have to try another place.

He knows he’s in the right area when he sees a boy standing against a wall, scrolling through his phone.

Red cap, check. Headphones, check.

It’s Nino.

Claude doesn’t bother to say anything as he enters the bathroom.

“Adrien? Are you here?” They speak quietly, not wanting to startle him.

There’s a pause, then, “C-Claude?”

Adrien pushes a door open, looking pale and shaky. They really can’t blame him, considering all that has transpired.

“Marinette is inside.” The relief is clear on his face. Not that he’s no longer worried, but Adrien is comforted some by that statement.

“O-okay. You could have texted me.”

Claude shakes his head, “I’m here to bring you to the bakery. I don’t know how long you can stay, but with how you were panicking earlier, you really need to see Mari.”

“I have to see her. She needs me.”

Clause gets the feeling there’s more meaning behind that than they know, but doesn’t press. He gently helps Adrien to a standing position and leads him outside.

Nino doesn't even notice.

Once they’re outside, the two don’t slow in the slightest. Adrien is faster than he looks, and is clearly trying to keep from leaving Claude behind while simultaneously trying to get to his friend as quickly as possible.

The living room is empty, so they hurry up the stairs to Marinette’s room. Felix, Allegra, Allan, and Marinette have somehow all managed to fit onto Marinette’s bed, where the girl in question has blankets piled on top of her.

Allan looks a little shaky, and Claude rests their hand on his shoulder when they have climbed up.

As soon as Adrien has seated himself next to Marinette he breathes an audible sigh of relief. 

Allegra gives him a hug, “Marinette isn’t the only one who needs comfort.”

He doesn’t respond, still working on steadying his breathing. She’ll be fine now that he’s here, but it isn’t ideal. He isn’t sure if she will leave hibernation, let alone wake up without contact.

He can’t exactly take her out from the blankets to cuddle her without the others saying something.

Still, he’s here now. He’s here, and she’s here and they’re back together. Everything will be fine. 

They stay as long as they can, but there’s no escaping the fact that they have to go home eventually. They tell her parents what had happened, and Adrien puts warm things on Marinette’s head when no one is looking so that when they do try to feel for a temperature, that’s what they’ll think it is.

Just a fever.

He can’t have them take her to the hospital. She’d never wake up then, and the chaos that would result from that…

It wouldn’t be pretty.

He hates that she’s been hibernating this long. At least he’s been close for most of that time. Not close enough to bring her out entirely, but he’s fairly certain she’s a little better.

Maybe.

Slightly.

He hopes.

Now he’s got to leave. He can feel the stress return the moment he turns his back on her.

[muffinlance]

Your recent ask about struggling with your serious writing projects really hit home, but was also super inspiring. And intimidating. I hope you know I think of you like a writing sensei now. Is sensei the right word? Writing big sibling? Anyway, how do you deal with the anxiety of all those projects? I want to be a Proper Writer too, and I have the ideas and the time, but I always get nerfed by anxiety whenever I try and write original fiction. Any tips on how to stop overthinking?

In light of our shared fandom, dear @captainkirkk, I will accept "Sifu".

Writing tips!

You are obviously solid on writing mechanics and short story arcs (maybe long form arcs too, but I've only had the pleasure of reading your short fics thus far.) So in your case, it is probably just a lack of experience causing most of this anxiety. 'Cause I have found that becoming comfortable with each new stage of writing is an exercise in exposure therapy.

If you're specifically worried about original characters/fics, consider working more OCs into your fanfics just to get more experience with/feedback on them. You'll know real fast if people are reacting well to your OCs, and can tweak things accordingly in the wonderfully low-stress world of fanfic.

As far as anxiety on writing in general, as far as I can tell it never goes away, but there are definitely strategies to lessen it. You'll have to experiment with what works for you. For me, going for long nighttime jogs and just turning ideas over in my head in a low-stress not-even-trying-to-write-right-now environment is super helpful. And if you haven't already, it's Real Big Important to learn to separate the "something is wrong with this story" anxiety from the "I am the worst writer ever and everything I touch becomes ash unto mine eyes" anxiety. I've gotten in the habit of literally trying to write out my anxiety causes. Mock example that's pretty much exactly like what I really do:

(I start with a clear statement of the problem:) Why do I hate this scene, it feels like the literal worst?

(Then I list potential causes:) are character interactions weak? Anything I can do to increase tension/character interplay? More background elements to add depth to scene? Is this supporting the plot enough? Do I even need this scene or can important elements be combined into future scenes? Etc.

Then I work my way through each question, allowing "no this is fine" to be an acceptable answer. And if everything is fine... I might just be in a grr mood where Everything Is Awful and I should take a break because I'm only going to do more harm than good here. Go for a jog, play with the cat, switch to another story for a bit if-I'm-not-grring-at-that-one-too. I actually ran into this with Little Zuko 31; I basically did exactly the above, and ended up scraping about 3k of perspectives-in-the-waiting-room because they were slowing the pacing and coming off as too Zuko-whumpy in a story that doesn't usually drag its heels in depressing bits. My solution was literally "this boy needs a goddamn coat earlier in the chapter so everyone can stop worrying about him and we can get back to the right tone", so I deleted a whole slew of scenes, inserted the early Yue POV, and had her bring him a goddamn coat. And suddenly the chapter was good, great, I-can-work-with-this. But it took a few hours to A) acknowledge that I was writing myself deeper into a pit of this-isn't-working, and B) put my finger on the cause enough to fix it. Sometimes it takes me days to figure that stuff out. Or months. Or years. I've got a novel I just took out of my Grrr Drawer that I hated hated hated, but now that I've got more experience with fixing things, I was able to spot what was wrong and figure out a roadmap for fixing it.

If you haven't already, make sure you've joined some sort of weekly-if-not-daily critique group where you can crit a metric ton of stories and read the crits others have written; it is notably easier to spot mistakes on someone else's work, and many times you'll walk to the fridge and go "...wait a sec, I'm doing that too". I have learned more about story structure from criting works that were almost-but-not-quite working than from reading all the perfectly edited novels in the world. (Critique Circle is an excellent site for this, best I've found, though as with all crit sites you need to know how to work the system so you're getting the most out of your time spent there. If anyone is interested in CC specific tips, shoot me an ask.)

Also, if you haven't already, figure out what stages of your projects you need what kind of feedback on. It took me a Real Long Time to figure out I worked best without input of any kind until I had a draft I personally couldn't improve upon further. When working on my original projects, I no longer show anyone anything until things are finished and polished. Then I invite the crit jackals in (I love my crit jackals, proper constructive criticism hurts so good). Fanfiction has been an interesting experience and a reminder of why I work that way: I am really easily influenced to change things based on reviews. I've now got enough experience writing full novels that I can (mostly) sort out "cool ideas" from "cool ideas that actually work in the broader context of this story", but I still find myself tweaking my outline after reviews. In ways that are hopefully good. But back when I was a less confident writer with terrible outlining skills, oh man I wrote myself down unworkable tangents just because "wouldn't it be cool if..."

So yep. In summary: experiment with anxiety relief strategies and self-care that work for you, acknowledge that the anxiety will always be there and that is normal there is nothing wrong with you, use the anxiety as a tool to address whatever your subconscious is trying to tell you about your story (stop and have a Real Talk with your anxieties--are they trying to tell you something, or do you just need to take a quick brain break?), and know that you're already an amazing writer you just need to practice more on original fics and get them out in the world. <3

Also: sometimes you will get to the end of a project and it... Just didn't work. It's unfixable, or would take more time to fix than just moving on to your next project with lessons learned. I see so many newer writers getting stuck on their "dream story". The one they've been editing and re-editing for years. And it's like, honey, you remember that first clay pot you made in kindergarten? That one that's lumpy and leaning to one side and objectively terrible and I'm pretty sure a mouse crawled inside, got lost, and died in it? Your novel is the equivalent of that. Don't try to fix this pot, go practice making more.

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 7 (AO3!)

AN: The next update won't be for another week. I'm going to be off in the wilderness for a few days with no access to internet. Assuming I don't fall off a cliff, Chapter 8 should be up next Sunday. 

Jake found out the story had published when he was woken up far too early on Sunday by an explosion of text messages. There were a dozen from Gina alone, mostly demanding to know why he had gone on the record with Amy when Gina was his lifelong best friend, damnit. There were two texts from Rosa; the first read “what the hell, Jake” and the second “WHAT THE HELL.” The Vulture had also texted but Jake didn’t bother opening that one.

There was nothing from Amy.

Jake let that particular gut-punch sink in. He hadn’t heard from her since he’d lost his damned mind and kissed her, and he thought it was possible he’d never hear from her again.

When his phone dinged again, he picked it up to find another text from Gina (“srsly man wtf”) and wrote back with a shrug emoji and a heart-kiss emoji and three fruit emojis. He ignored the Vulture. He took a deep breath and called Rosa.

“What the hell, man?”

“On a scale from no-one-reads-the-Bulletin-anyway to maybe-the-FBI-is-hiring, how much trouble do you think I’m in?” Jake said.

“A lot.”

Jake pressed his hand to his eyes and groaned.

On the other end of the line he could hear Rosa rustling around, doing god knew whatever she did on her weekends, but she didn’t speak for a long time and the silence was unnerving. Finally, she said, “Did you know?”

“About the story? Or about my name being in it?” Jake said.

“Either. Both.”

“Yes.”

More dead air, and then Rosa said, “You’re a moron, you know that.”

“Yep.”.

Rosa sighed, said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, dummy,” and ended the call.

Jake stared at the dark screen for a while, then he stuffed the phone under his pillow, rolled over, pulled his blanket up over his head and went back to sleep.

+++

The professional fallout wasn’t as bad as he expected. The Vulture was furious, of course. When Jake finally called him Pembroke screamed for a while and told him his pasty white ass would be glued to his desk chair for the foreseeable future but he didn’t actually make any formal threats. The Vulture did demand to know why Amy had contacted Jake of all possible detectives in the NYPD – something that Jake realized he should have anticipated and prepared an answer for – and he panicked and said Gina must have offered him up. That set off a whole new round of yelling about Jake having friends in the media, but he mostly zoned out on that part.

Around noon, Scully called to tell Jake that officially, the brass did not approve of him talking to a reporter without permission. But unofficially, they were pleased that Jake’s quote gave the NYPD some protection from a story that was destroying the corrections department.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Scully said, “but you got us more positive press with that quote than I have all year.”

Scully giggled then and asked if Jake wanted to join him for chicken wings.

+++

The personal fallout was far worse.

Jake had been swinging widely between shame and confusion in the immediate aftermath of being soundly rejected by Amy. He couldn’t figure out how he’d misread the situation so badly, to have thought that she might be interested.

But he realized after the story came out that the mood swings were really just denial, because as soon as he saw her name in cold, black print on top of her article, a depression washed over him. The sadness came in waves, at times so dense he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and others like a gray mist that muted the world around him. He stayed in bed for most of the day and only left the apartment to pad down to the corner bodega – in pajama pants and a T-shirt and slippers – so he could buy an actual copy of the Bulletin and further torture himself.

He couldn’t decide if it made things better or so much worse that he hadn’t even noticed that he was falling for Amy. The past few weeks, as he’d felt them becoming close, he’d been intrigued and bemused by the friendship developing between them. He’d certainly noticed that Amy was beautiful, and that she was smart and funny and kind. But it was only standing with her in front of her apartment, her eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamp, the stress and the excitement about her story practically making her glow from within, that he’d realized he wanted to kiss her.

Or maybe his feelings had started to boil over a little before that, when he was walking her home in the dark and the idea had come to him, out of nowhere, that he wanted to hold her hand. Or maybe it had started at the diner, when Amy had said she liked typing his name and Jake hadn’t actually thought she was a big nerd – he’d thought about her fingers tapping out the letters of his name, and he’d felt chills on the back of his neck.

Or maybe it had been a dozen times before that one night, moments like droplets collecting over the past several weeks until he was drowning in them.

Jake wondered if he should call Amy – ask her to reconsider, or even to explain to him how this could have happened. She was smart. She would probably have some ideas. But then he remembered the guilt and the horror on her face at having committed an ethical crime, and he knew he couldn’t call. Her moral code was something he’d admired in her from the first time he’d read a story of hers, when he’d given her the tip about the cop who killed his ex-girlfriend. He wasn’t going to be the one to compromise that, not any more than he already had. And even if he did call, nothing could happen between them, not anymore. He would never ask her to put her professional ethics aside for him. Not for some cop.

He still hoped she might call or text. Just to let him know.

+++

It was getting close to midnight and he was already back in bed with the lights out when he couldn’t take it anymore and wrote a text. It said: “Congrats.” He added an explosion emoji, deleted the emoji, then hit send.

He was sliding the phone under his pillow when it vibrated in his hand.

The text from Eldora Senegal said: “Can we meet?”

+++

Jake sat on a swing in the playground, wishing he hadn’t forgotten his jacket before ducking out to meet her. He was sure the only reason he’d gotten there first was because he lived nearby, but he still couldn’t help the nerves in his stomach – the worry that she was going to text him any minute to say she’d changed her mind. Or maybe she just wouldn’t show up.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from her. He just knew he wanted to see her.

He kicked his feet in the sand, pushing himself back a few inches, and buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The swing seat was damp and the chill of it was soaking into his jeans, making him shiver. He startled when he caught movement in his peripheral vision, and planted his feet to stop the swing. Amy stood at the edge of sand, almost entirely in shadow, but he knew her profile, recognized the curve of her cheek. She walked over silently and sat in the swing beside his.

They drifted a little in their swings, not talking. Then Amy said, not much louder than a whisper, “Did you get in any trouble?”

“Not really,” Jake said, eyes on the ground. “The Vulture yelled a bunch, but that’s kind of his thing. Honestly? I think you made a lot of people in the NYPD pretty happy today.”

“But not you.”

“No,” Jake said, carefully. “Proud. Impressed. But no, not happy.”

Amy dug the toes of her shoes into the sand, rocking on her swing. He felt bad telling her the truth, but he would have felt worse if he’d lied.

“Today was amazing,” Amy said, after a few minutes of silence. Jake glanced at her, but she was staring at her feet, and her voice hadn’t actually reflected her words. “All of these politicians were on Twitter condemning the corrections department. The mayor himself said he’s going to open an investigation. The New York Times actually had a story online today quoting my article. And tomorrow I’m going on NPR to talk about it. The Brian Lehrer Show, Jake!”

She took a deep breath, and when she glanced up, Jake could see that her eyes were too bright. “A bunch of my coworkers took me out tonight to celebrate, and even Holt came out with us, and I was so proud of myself. But all I could think about was how much it sucked that I couldn’t talk to you.”

Jake felt dizzy with uncertainty and relief and longing, and a dozen other emotions he couldn’t pin down. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Amy said, “So from there I sort of spiraled and just kept thinking, what if I never talk to you again, or never see you again? And I know that’s dumb because I’d probably see you around even if I was trying to avoid you, but what if you didn’t ever want to see me, because of- what happened. I would hate that. I don’t want that.”

“Amy, if you want to be friends-”

“No,” Amy said. “I don’t want that.”

“Then-” Jake stopped, swallowing his words, suddenly afraid of the hope swelling in his chest.

But Amy was getting up from her swing, and she stood in front of him, so his knees bumped against her legs. She grabbed the chains of his swing in her fists and held him steady. He looked up at her face, his heart hammering, his palms sweaty.

“I like you, Jake,” Amy said. “And I don’t want you to be my source, and I don’t want us to be professional or- transactional. I just want you.”

She pulled his swing toward her and dipped her head down to his and kissed him. There was no doubt in her kiss, no hesitation, and he kissed her back fiercely, planting his hands on her hips to hold her closer. She moved her hands to cup his face and her fingers were freezing from holding the cold chains, and the feeling against his flushed cheeks was electric. He groaned into her mouth and she kissed him harder, tongue diving between his lips. She kissed like she couldn’t get enough, like she needed something from him, something only he had.

But eventually they did slow down, kisses evolving into nips and tastes. By then they were both shivering from the cold. Jake kissed her closed mouth and pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, and she smiled coyly at him. She stood over him, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen,  her hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps all around her face, and she was breathtaking.

He kissed her again, felt her lips curl into another smile against his, then stood up and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her in close.

“What do we do now?” he said, pressing his face into her hair.

“Your place?” Amy said. “It’s closer.”

Jake laughed and squeezed her tight, then stepped back and took her hand, and led her across the sand and out of the park. It had to be getting close to 1 a.m., and they both had work in the morning, and apparently Amy had an important radio thing, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping any time soon – not when she was here with him, when she’d come back to him, and there was so much to talk about and he just wanted to make out with her all night.

He was the one spiraling now, in the best way. The relief and euphoria were almost overwhelming. He let go of her hand and looped his arm around her shoulders instead, drawing her into his side, and she slipped an arm around his waist.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, after they’d walked a bit in silence. He wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘this’ – the kissing and holding, or that they were going back to his apartment possibly to have sex, or that they were maybe dating, if not now sometime very soon.

“Yes,” Amy said, the certainty in her voice reassuring. “I actually did some research.”

“Research on what?” Jake said, smiling at her profile.

“Journalism ethics,” Amy said. “There are a ton of thought pieces on dating sources – which is never appropriate, by the way. But the consensus seems to be that sometimes you can’t help who you fall for, and there are best practices for transitioning from a professional reporter-source relationship to a personal one.”

“Best practices, huh? Sounds romantic,” Jake said. He paused at an intersection and nuzzled her ear.

Amy laughed and pulled her head away. “First, I meant what I said – you can’t be my source anymore.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just find someone else to tell all my secrets to,” Jake said, pulling her along as they started walking again.

Amy slapped his arm. “You will not!” He shot her a look, surprised by the intensity of her response, and she just shrugged. “I know, ‘democracy dies in darkness,’ the Fourth Estate, freedom of speech, whatever – if I don’t get your secrets, no one does.”

“Okay, honestly, your possessive side is pretty hot,” Jake said.

She shot him a smile with a bit of an edge to it, and Jake felt a chill run up his spine. Then she said, “But seriously, no more tips, no more leads, no more quoting you.”

“All right,” Jake said, but he slowed down as they approached his building, and he thought over what her words meant. “Except, this is sounding a lot like my Gina arrangement, and I don’t think I can do that with you. Are you saying I can’t talk about my job at all?”

“No, of course not.” Amy stopped them and turned to face him, wrapping both arms loosely around his shoulders. “You can tell me anything, it’s just all off the record. If you say something that I think is newsworthy then I might ask you if I can pass it on to another reporter, but I won’t ever write about it myself.”

Jake considered that and nodded. “And you think that’ll work?”

“Sure,” Amy said with a grin. “It’s not like most of what you say is very interesting anyway.”

“Hurtful.”

“Interesting as in newsworthy,” Amy said, chuckling. “Like, when you talk about the Vulture – that’s great gossip. And you know I want to hear all about whatever’s going on in the cold war between Rosa and the IT guy.”

“Heidi,” Jake said.

“Right, Heidi from IT who is a man who is either in love with Rosa or wants to murder her with the internet,” Amy said. “See? That’s great stuff. But not anything I’d ever write about. So you keep that coming.”

Jake nodded along, and he thought they could do this – they could be together and maybe both of their careers could survive and neither of them would have to do anything horribly unethical that would be a betrayal to their very soul.

“You’re really sure,” Jake said anyway.

“I am,” Amy said. “Now please, can we go upstairs and get in your bed? It’s stupid cold out here.”

He kissed her, hard and fast on the lips, and grabbed her hand and tugged her inside.

And they had sex, and it was incredible.

CHAPTER 8

[farfromsugafanfic]

guksthighs Interview

I, the interviewer, typically don’t interrupt at the beginning of the interview, but Jess is legit one of my favorite fan fiction writers of all time and I’m so honored that she took the time to speak with me. Anyway, onto the interview!

First off, can you start off by introducing yourself (whatever name you feel comfortable using) and telling us a little bit about yourself?

I’m Jess, an eighteen year old writer from the UK! I’ve been writing for BTS for a year and a half but supported them since the Boy in Luv era! I stan all seven boys ( but lean towards my angel child Kim Namjoon ) and when I’m not writing or doing schoolwork I’m usually doing some sort of sports! Also I just wanted to say thank you so much for asking to interview me, it is only such an honour that I’d make the cut!

Q1: Why did you first begin writing fan fiction? A1: I’ve always loved writing and the easiest way to share it and get people to read your work is to write for a fandom - well that was my ideology in the beginning. In reality, what’s kept me writing are the messages I receive every now and then ( from people like you ) that make me feel like the luckiest person ever and like I’m doing a decent job at writing!

Q2: You mainly write imagines/ preferences, but you do have a few series and longer pieces on your page. Do you prefer to write in shorter forms? A2: When I first started out writing, rather embarrassingly, my aim was to grow a following on Tumblr so I posted daily for the first few months and because shorter forms are faster to write I was able to continue that and now I am able to balance my life and writing easier. I’d love to write longer pieces but I’d prefer to publish a smaller piece weekly than work on a huge project!

I also have a lot of started and unfinished pieces which is more of a reflection of me - I’ve always had a huge imagination and am always planning the next idea but I do intend to start posting longer pieces soon! Q3: Have you written fan fiction for other fandoms? And/or before starting your current account? A3: I have! My first ever fan fiction was One Direction ( it’s deleted now - thank god - and on looking back I’m ashamed to say I used a plot for original characters to try and garner more reads - it worked ). I have a wattpad account ( jeonsthighs ) where I’ve completed a 50 chapter Haikyuu piece called An Angel’s Wings. Last I checked it had 125,000 reads and in summary is about a deaf volleyball player who overcomes her self taught ideology that relying on others makes you weak. I’ve also written for other anime fandoms; Fairy Tail and Kuroko No Basket, so I guess you could call me versatile ~ Q4: Do you write anything outside the realm of fan fiction? A4: I write columns for my school newspaper and have the honour of having written an article that has been used in a newspaper!

I used to write stories in school on scrap pieces of paper that would be passed around the class as I wrote them which encouraged me to share it online to try and spread more happiness!

These days I tend not to write any fiction outside of fan fiction due to the amount of work I have but I’m hoping after my exams I’ll be able to juggle my account and work on some ideas I’ve had for a while! Q5: Were you scared to begin posting your work online? A5: Surprisingly no! I’ve always written as a form of stress relief and mindfulness as I’m able to channel any negative emotions into words. So I wasn’t too worried about no one noticing me and am still surprised at the size my account has grown to. The only thing that scares me these days is someone I know finding my account and confronting me about *some* of the more mature content I’ve posted. Q6: Has writing fan fiction taught you anything? About writing? Reading? Yourself? A6: Fan fiction has taught me not to hide away from myself and all of my emotions and thoughts which means I’ve been able to deal with my depression and anxiety in a way I wouldn’t have done before. Often I write characteristics that reflect myself, often without meaning to and upon looking back on my work I notice the resemblance. Writing has been the best and most helpful form of mindfulness and by participating in publishing Fan fiction I am able to connect with others! ( Even if it has given me unrealistic expectations for dating TT )

Q7: What’s your favorite piece you’ve ever written? A7: I’ve thought about this question a lot and come to the cheesiest conclusion ever, even so I stand by it. Every work I publish is my favourite, they all reflect different parts of myself and have different journeys and memories to me and others. I do however have a special place for Golden Boy, a Park Jimin piece because it was my first ever embarking on a journey to write 10,000 words. Q8: Do you notice any stigma surrounding fan fiction or fan fiction writers? A8: That we’re crazed fans or disgusting. I feel authors are criticised for using real people in their work - which was the scariest thing for me as I was moving from the realm of anime and literal characters to writing about real living and breathing humans. However, I use the boys as characters for my writing, I am aware that everything I do is imaginary and do not think it’s likely to come true ( which is one of the reasons I prefer writing crazy alternate universes over more realistic pieces ) Another top stigma is that fan fiction writers are not talented which is rather hurtful. Oh! Also that we’re all perverts and write fifty shades of grey style pieces ( I know there are accounts out there that are nothing like that ... just maybe not mine aha )

Q9: If so, how do you feel about this stigma?

A9: It doesn’t bother me particularly, instead of going on long winded rants that will be skipped by people who believe these I try and be active in changing that stigma ( apart from the smut cus a girls gotta sin ). I’ve started my author recommendations list to support smaller accounts who are just starting up which has had an amazing reception and results!

Q10: What’s something you’ve never been asked but want to be? 

A10: Favourite book? Q11: Is Tumblr the site you prefer to post fan fic on? If so, why?

A11: Tumblr is my preferred site - to an extent. It is amazing for creating and talking to the blog family, as well as making friends. However, as I said earlier I’ve been in this fandom a long time and the recent surge of new fans has resulted in more arguments and fights that I don’t like seeing.

Q12: Do you ever want to be published in a professional capacity one day? A12: Yes! I’m hopefully going to university next year to study English Literature and hope to either go into journalism or publishing/editing. I’d love to be a published author but I’m happy to support others in accomplishing their dreams!

Thank you so much for interviewing me and letting me share my thoughts and journey as a BTS fan fiction writer! It’s an honour to be someone you wanted to interview and throughout the process you’ve been so kind ! I really would encourage everyone to try writing, whether it’s poetry, short drabbles or even thousands of words long chaptered pieces because you never know what your mind and imagination are capable of until you push them! Thank you again and happy reading!

Check out Jess’ amazing imagines and fan fiction on her Tumblr page guksthighs and on her Wattpad jeonsthighs! Once again, thank you, Jess!

[nexthecryptid]

The Little Things Ch. 3

Summary: Lance thought he would be okay. It was a rough week, and he had to help his friends out a bit. No problem. He was fine. Everything was fine.But it wasn’t.  It wasn’t fine.

Prefer to read it on A03?  Here!

First - Previous - Next

Wednesday - 11:40 am

Lance rushed towards his classroom, checking the time on his phone before sighing in relief.  He was about ten minutes late, but the warmth that seeped into his hand reminded him that it was totally worth it.  He paused at the door to his class, catching his breath and fixing his clothes a bit before entering. He scanned the class, spotting his friends before quickly making his way over, grateful that the professor hadn’t started.

He sat down between his friends, carefully sitting his coffee on the table before pulling his books out, humming slightly.  He turned to Hunk, greeting him with a large smile and a fist bump. Hunk smiled back, turning back to his bag to look for something.  He then turned to Pidge, noting the small glare they directed towards him.

“Hey Pidge.” He greeted, keeping up his happy tone.

“You’re late.” They said, rolling their eyes and opening their laptop.  

“It was only ten minutes.” Lance pointed out.  

“Ten minutes we could have been using to work on our group project.” They growled, typing in their password with more force than necessary.  Lance frowned and looked to Hunk, raising a brow. Hunk shrugged with an apologetic look, glancing to Pidge. He let the conversation drop in favor of drinking his coffee, grateful when the Professor then called for attention.    

“As a reminder, your projects are due two weeks from now, and your second exam will be in three.  If you haven’t already begun your projects, I suggest you kick it in gear now. Two weeks can go by faster than you think.  I will be giving you time in class today, so use it wisely.” He said, looking around the class, lingering on some of the students.  Pidge made a small noise, Lance looking over to see their jaw clenched, fingers digging into the desk. He rose a brow, a frown settling on his face.  

Pidge… What’s wrong?

Probably annoyed they had to deal with you.  You were late, probably thought you weren’t going to show up!  You’re stressing them out!

Stress...

As the lesson begun, Lance couldn’t help but glance over to Pidge occasionally, as if they would explode if he looked away for too long.  He took down the chapter corresponding to the lesson, adding the outline before shifting his focus a bit more onto his friend.

At a mere glance, Pidge looked fine.  They were looking at the slides, watching the professor, and taking notes on their computer.  But Lance knew differently. There was a look in Pidge’s eyes, one that looked slightly panicked.  The corners of their mouth twitched, probably because they were biting the inside of their mouth and they messed with their nails when they weren’t typing.  Lance leaned back a bit with a stretch, using the new angle to look at their laptop. There were two windows opened that he could see, divided onto the screen so Pidge could look at them both simultaneously.  One was a word document, Pidge typing their notes from the lesson. The other was something Lance saw Pidge use for programing, lines of code being typed in as the Professor spoke. Pidge was multitasking, or at least trying to.  After writing a line of code, they deleted it, Pidge’s fingers twitching slightly before clicking onto a different window. This time it was an article, probably something Pidge was researching for another class.

Pidge was clearly stressed, probably overwhelmed with all of the assignments that were piled onto them.  Lance could relate… While it was normal to get jabs by Pidge when he was late, it was different today. Pidge was genuinely upset, and it was probably because they thought Lance would skip out, which meant they would lose another day of working on their group project, together.  They worked separately last class, and they still had a good chunk to tackle.  It would explain their short fuse of patience, because they probably felt like they were running out of time.  

While it usually worked itself out after a few days, Lance could tell it wouldn’t this time with the way they were trying to work on everything right now.  Pidge needed a break, and Lance was going to make them because no one else would. Hunk was probably thinking about his lunch date, completely unaware of what was happening right now, not that Lance could blame him considering he was probably a nervous wreck.  Keith was out of town at the moment, so he wouldn’t be able to, and he hadn’t seen Allura or Shiro in some time. He knew if they were around, they would all do it. It would have been easier if he had them around, but hey, he could take care of it no problem.

Hopefully…

…

Wednesday - 1:15 pm

“Alright, now that we got all the basic information down, all we need to do is highlight some the key parts.” Hunk said, clapping his hands together and looking over his notes.  

They had spent the last forty-five minutes working on their project, tackling some of the larger aspects of it.  Lance smiled down at his notes, feeling a bit proud of himself since he was the once that came up with what they were doing.  Pidge had seemed to relax a bit too, Lance making sure they only focused on the project instead of being sidetracked with jokes.  While he loved to joke around, he knew it would only frustrate Pidge, so he eased up on the fooling around.  Hunk closed his notebook, looking at his phone, his nerves clearly coming back.   Pidge didn’t seem to notice.

“Okay but we still have to-”

“Easy Pidge.  We got a lot done today, so let’s wrap it up for now.  Plus, Hunk has a date to go to.” Lance reminded, placing a hand on their shoulder as an apology for cutting them off.

“But we need to-”

“-take a break.  Come on. You and I have reservations at a nearby place.” He said, hoping it would persuade Pidge to settle down.  He felt bad for cutting Pidge off again, but Hunk was already tyring to make his escape and he was getting worried.

“I owe you one.” Hunk whispered before rushing out.  Pidge growled and pulled away from Lance, clicking their tongue in annoyance.

“Whatever.” They mumbled, reluctantly putting their belongings away.  Lance had thought he won, but Pidge got up and was ready to leave without him.  

“Hey!  Where do you think you’re going?  We’re going for lunch remember?” He asked, raising a brow.

“I’m going home.” Pidge huffed, continuing their exit.  Lance scrambled after them, quickly stepping in front of them.  

“Come on Pidge.”

“I don’t have time for this Lance.” Their eyes narrowed a bit and they moved to walk around him.  Lance stuck his arm out to stop them again.

“Then make time.” He reasoned.  

“Go away Lance!” They snapped, shoving his arm away.  

You’re going to regret this.

“Pidge.” He said gently, grabbing their arm and pulling them back.  He braced himself, knowing full well he was pushing Pidge too far, but it was needed.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit Lance!  What don’t you get!?  Are you really that fucking stupid!?  I’m not here to play your stupid games, I’m not here to fucking deal with your shit!  I have too much work to do, so leave me the fuck alone already! God you’re so fucking annoying!” They yelled, slapping his arm away.  The students around them stopped, looking over to see what was happening.  But Lance didn’t pay them any mind, ignoring the sting in his arm as he looked down at Pidge.  He tried not to take it to heart, tried not to feel hurt by Pidge’s words, but there was only so much Lance could ignore. Pidge was glaring at him, breathing heavily as the anger boiled in their eyes.  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes if only to escape the look for a moment.

Can’t argue with something that’s a fact.

“This doesn’t concern any of you so move on!” He called to the students who were watching them, looking at them with a pointed look.  Some flinched and quickly rushed away, some turned to their friends and whispered.  He ignored them and looked back to Pidge, surprised by the reaction he got.  They flinched, eyes widening as it seemed to really sink in what they had just done.  Guilt washed over anger, tears forming at the corners of their eyes.  It was then he decided that he rather have Pidge look angry at him then looking near tears.  

“Lance I-”

“Follow me Pidge.” He said softly, giving them a small smile.  They flinched at their name but nodded, walking next to Lance as they walked out the building.  

While they could have easily gone to a nearby cafe, or even the dining halls, Lance picked a place that was about fifteen minutes away, just on the edge of campus.  The Diner that Lance was taking Pidge was the group’s favorite place to hang out for several different reasons. The main one though, was because that’s where they had all met.  While yeah it was a bit out of the way, it gave Pidge time to walk in peace.  It also gave Lance time to clear his head.

When the Diner came into view, he noticed the way Pidge’s shoulders relax a little, walking a bit closer to him.  He smiled a little and gently patted their head without a word.  When they walked in, he called back to the waiters and waitresses, greeting them all.  He knew every single one of them, which wasn’t surprising considering he also worked there. He walked up to the booth where they usually waited to be seated, but instead of waiting, he reached back and grabbed one of the notepads that sat there.  He wrote down his own order, knowing exactly what he wanted before looking to Pidge.

“Want me to pick for you, or do you have a meal in mind?” He asked.  Pidge shifted a bit before shaking their head.

“Surprise me.” They said, smiling a bit.  Lance smirked and wrote down a meal that he knew Pidge would enjoy.  He then went towards the back, hanging up their orders before calling back to the cooks, greeting them.  After having a small chat, he found Pidge at their usual booth, sitting across from them.

“Feeling better?” He asked, placing his chin in his hand.

“Yeah…  I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.  I’ve just been…” They trailed off, wringing their hands together, glancing at their bag on occasion.

“Stressed?  Frustrated? Tired of all the teachers secretly coming together to plan your demise through countless assignments and terrible, overwhelming projects?” Lance offered.  Pidge snickered, rolling their eyes.

“All three.  I feel like if I work on one thing, I’ll completely forget about the other.  And every time I feel like I’m making progress, I take another look and see that I messed it up and have to re-do it.  I can’t even do a simple line of code right now without messing up the compatible sequences!” They huffed, burying their face into their hands.

“Which is why you need a break.” He said.  Pidge opened their mouth to argue but Lance continued.  “Before you say you don’t have enough time, let me remind you that you do.  Two weeks for our project, we’re already three quarters of the way done. We didn’t finish because we lost our motivation to continue.  Hunk had to leave, and with that came with the much needed break from working forty-five minutes straight. Now when we go back, we’ll have a fresh look and will be forced to go over what we did.  It’s the same with your lines of codes. You were pushing yourself so hard, you lost track of some of you numbers. But when you took a break and looked back at it, you spotted your mistakes and fixed it.” Pidge looked at him for a moment, nodding after a minute when they started to understand.  

“Okay…  I get it.” They said reluctantly.  “I just… I don’t want to stop in the middle of it all.”

“You’re not stopping.  You’re only taking a much needed pause my non-binary goblin.” Lance offered.  Pidge laughed.

“Thanks Lance.”  

Lance beamed.  

…

“PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!!” Pidge cheered, their lunch plates being taken away by the waitress who giggled.  

“See, if you didn’t take a break, you wouldn’t be able to have your cookies.” Lance said, giving thanks to the waitress as she walked away.  

“You’re totally right Lance.  Rare as it is, but even you can be right.” Pidge teased and Lance felt his chest swell a bit.  Pidge was back to their usual self, and Lance couldn’t be happier.

“Secretly, I’m a genius.  I just make all of you think I’m not.” He joked, biting into the cake that he ordered.  

“It’s not a secret if we all know.  You’re just as smart as we are.” Pidge said, and Lance faltered slightly at the compliment.  He smiled and looked down at his cake then, using it as an excuse to stay quiet.  Pidge didn’t seem bothered as they dug into their desert, looking around the diner.  

“Hey, where’s Keith been?  Usually he’d be here helping you plot against me.” Pidge asked.

“His sister is having a baby.” He said, smiling at the mention of his boyfriend.  

“Oh, congrats to her!  Nobody told me I was going to have a niece/nephew.  Rude.” They huffed, pouting, making Lance laugh.

“Course not.  We didn’t want the gremlin to be a bad influence.” He teased.  

“Whatever.  I’m just glad I don’t have to see you two love birds doting on each other.” They rolled their eyes, finishing their cookie before humming contently.  

“He’ll be back by the end of the week so I’ll make sure we’ll ‘dote’ on each other right in front of you.” He snickered, avoiding Pidge’s napkin when they chucked it at him.  

“Now that we’re done, how about we work on our homework together?” He asked, clearing the table before pulling his notebook out.  Pidge blinked in surprise before grinning.

“Yeah!  I feel like I can tackle some of my other projects now.  Well, I have a few ideas for it… but I’m not sure what I should do...” They said, pulling their laptop up.  Lance hummed, placing his phone on the table, clicking on the recording app and starting it.

“Bounce your ideas off me, even if I won’t be able to understand.  Sometimes, talking about your project can help.” He offered. Pidge hummed in thought.

“Well, there's this one program I was thinking about developing.  The problem is…” Lance sat there and listened, smiling occasionally when Pidge seemed to get passionate on certain aspects.  Occasionally they would pause to type something onto their computer before looking at him as if he just gave them the answer before continuing on their rant.  Yeah, Lance didn’t really get any work done, but he was taking his own advice and taking a break. Plus, he liked watching his friends, not in a creepy way or anything, just the way they acted, the little quirks they did.  It kept him occupied from his own thoughts as he focused on someone else. It was nice…

…

Wednesday - 5:27 pm

“-was making schematics for this one robot, but the design was too clunky for my liking so I tried to modify it so-oh!  I could replace the thicker wires for thinner ones if I can find a way to place them specifically around the attachments to hold them in place.” Lance had no idea when they went from coding to robots, but he didn’t mind it.  But he did notice the way the sun was lowering. He checked his phone, noticing the time before stretching his back and yawning. Pidge echoed him a minute after, looking at him and smiling.

“You look like you need some rest.  Why not call it a day?” They asked, closing their laptop.  

“Ah, someone learned from my lesson.” He snickered before nodding.  He was heavily leaning against the table, eyes struggling to stay open at that point.  

“Have you been sleeping well?” Pidge asked, throwing Lance off.  

“Yeah.” He lied, sitting up and putting the notebook he hadn’t touched away, stopping the recording on his phone.  He quickly sent the audio file to Pidge, giving them something to look back to if they forgot their ideas they didn't write down.

“You sure…?  You ordered like three coffees while we were here.” They pointed out, looking concerned.  

Don’t they have enough to worry about?  Go ahead, make them worry about you too!  

“I enjoy the coffee here.  Besides, there isn’t a lot of caffeine in them to begin with.” He shrugged, sipping the last of said drink.

Liar.  Liar. Liar.  Liar.

“Whatever you say Lance.  Get some sleep tonight alright?” They said, probably their last ditch effort to get something out of Lance.  

“You kidding?  I’m going to be sleeping like a King!” He grinned and finally Pidge moved on, laughing and getting up.  Lance followed them out of the diner, insisting on walking them to their dorm before walking to his own.  

…

Wednesday - 11:58 pm

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sleep.  He tried showering before bed, doing his nightly routine and completely relaxing himself.  He opened his window, making his room nice and cool so he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night too warm for comfort.  When that didn’t work, he tried reading his textbooks, hoping that the boring content of the book would put him to sleep, but even then he was just numb, taking in the information and finding himself weirdly interested.  

What made it worse…  Is that his thoughts were starting to get to him.  The frustration was filling him to the point where it was overflowing into tears.  He tossed the textbook across the room before curling up, his body shaking before a sob broke out.  He sobbed into his hands, moving them to grip his hair and pulling harshly.

Pathetic.  Useless. Stupid.  Annoying. Forgettable.  

“It’s not true…” He cried weakly.  He reached for his phone, scrolling down to Keith’s name, finger hovering the call icon.  He bit his lip, ready to hit it, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t bother Keith now, not when he’s with his family.  He couldn’t… He tossed his phone away before sobbing harder.

Weak.

...

A/N: Let me know what you guys think!

[swannsoftheseas]

Update on the Fic

Hey! Sorry for the lengthy post coming, but I just wanted to keep you all posted on what’s going on with Swanns of the Seas and what’s going on in my own personal life.

As I mentioned before, I had a lot of really bad mental health issues during this past summer. I got off the habit of taking my anxiety and depression medication which definitely messed up a lot of my brain chemistry. On top of that, I had a lot of relationship issues with my ex-boyfriend in June. It wasn’t just one thing, it was a huge culmination of things. Part of what majorly tanked my mental health was the fact that he started to criticize things about my personality, my physical appearance, and my sexuality near the end of that relationship. All of this made me feel like I was so much less of a person and my depression majorly relapsed. After we broke up and I pretty much realized I was a rebound, I started having suicidal thoughts for the first time since high school. I would get up in the late afternoon, cry constantly, lay on my couch and watch Netflix, and then go back to bed early just to repeat this toxic and mentally damaging cycle over and over again. I wasn’t motivated to eat, much less write. I was isolating myself in my apartment and not really talking to anyone or doing anything to help myself, if that makes sense. Finally my mom came down and dragged my ass back home so I’d be around other people and get the mental health support that I needed.

If you read my last update for Swanns of the Seas from August, you can kind of tell it didn’t have the usual spark in it that past chapters (even my POS ones from Curse of the Black Pearl that I’m DEFINITELY going to rewrite) had. I pretty much wrote an update because I kind of had to. Which sucks, because that particular scene at the end was one I’d been looking forward to writing so much. I just felt like I totally lost my connection to this fic as I was writing and it honestly felt like a chore more than the stress relief and labor of love that it used to be.

Then everything in my life got hectic in preparation for graduate school applications. I had pieces to learn and perfect, prescreening auditions to record, and essays to write. And of course, the last thing you want to do after right after writing shitloads of essays is do more writing.

The in October, I got a very, very, VERY lengthy review both praising my writing and also kind of harshly criticizing it. Don’t get me wrong; I always appreciate and listen to constructive criticism. But my mental health wasn’t quite back to where it was before summer happened so my brain just couldn’t handle it as well as I wanted it to. I already know I struggle with keeping Jack Sparrow in character, but now I feel myself wanting to delete every single line of dialogue for him that I create. I just can’t connect with that character as much as I used to be able to. Honestly, part of that has to do with the entire scenario surrounding Johnny Depp and how I’ve kind of stopped being a fan of his for both that and the repetitiveness he’s now bringing to roles when he used to have innovation. It makes it harder than it already was to write the character of Jack Sparrow.

I’m going to be honest; this last semester that I just finished has been the roughest one of my life from a mental health and an academic standpoint. This semester’s GPA was the lowest semester GPA I’ve ever had in my entire life. And trying to write a fic that now has so much hype and praise is kind of rough when you barely feel adequate enough to even have a future. But now that I finally have a break, and I mean an actual break, I can try to write again and regain that passion for writing that I used to have before things went to shit this year. This is the first time in three years that I’m not taking courses during all of my breaks and I honestly have no idea what to do with myself besides practice for grad auditions and write fic.

I guess I’m ending this sobfest of a post by saying that I do have the next chapter in the works. I feel like 90% of what I’m writing in this chapter is complete shit to be honest, but I’m still going to put it out there because I feel like I owe it to you all to at least finish out At World’s End. After I finish that, I’m going to rewrite Curse of the Black Pearl to a) fix a lot of stuff that my dumbass self thought was good back when I was in high school, and b) hopefully reintroduce myself to these characters and learn how to love them again. The next chapter should be up within the week and then I have 2-5 more chapters planned out to wrap up At World’s End.

I sincerely want to thank every single person who’s read, favorited, subscribed to, and commented on Swanns of the Seas. You readers truly make me feel like I’m actually creating something worthwhile and you make me feel like I can do something right with my life, even if it is just a crappy Pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction. Each and every one of you helped make this fic the story it is today and I truly couldn’t have gotten this far in for this long without all of your support. Thank you all, so, so much.

[writeontheedge]

25 Questions

I was tagged by @alittle-writer​. Thank you so much!

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Yes, actually. I got an idea for a new murder mystery about a month ago. I’m putting it off until I finish writing my current WIP.

2. What work of yours, if any, are you embarrassed about existing?

Oh wow there’s so much. I’m embarrassed of everything I wrote prior to Forgive Me. I used to publish my work on a website called Miss Literati, and I can safely say I hate everything I ever published there.

3. What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favorite scenes first? Something else?

I always write from the first chapter to the last. I like to plot out of order though, because I’ll get ideas for future chapters, but I write in chronological order to avoid plot holes.

4. Favorite character you’ve written?

Dominic Falco from Forgive Me. He’s incredibly sarcastic and loves coming up with nicknames for everyone. He was the comic relief of the novel, and writing his character was so much fun. In such a dark book, I needed a character I could laugh at.

5. Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

Either Gray Hutchins from Forgive Me or Three from Drift. I originally intended for them to just be minor characters who would appear in maybe two or three chapters, but they ended up being two of my favorite characters, so I couldn’t let them go.

6. Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Sometimes I wish I had been more rigorous with my writing and editing on Forgive Me. It’s taken me forever to finish it, because I didn’t stick to a routine the way I do now.

7. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I’m always enthusiastic! Writing is my passion, and I love to share it with others.

8. Favorite genre to write

Well, I can’t seem to stay away from mystery/suspense, so I think it has become my genre.

9. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

I listen to the playlists I create for each work, then I try to imagine the book as if it were a movie.

10. Write in silence or with background music? Alone or with others?

I write to instrumental music, usually from movie soundtracks.  Most of the time, I write alone in my room, but I occasionally write with my writing groups

11. What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I started writing very young, so my voice has matured as I have matured.  My early works all sound like they were written by a child (because they were), but now I’ve learned how to reflect a mature tone in my writing.

12. Your weaknesses as an author?

I doubt myself too much. I’m always comparing myself to other authors, and I stress myself out over what others will think of my writing.

13. Your strengths as an author?

I think dialogue is my biggest strength. I know how to make dialogue realistic, as if the characters were real people having a real conversation right in front of me. 

14. Do you make playlists for your work?

Yep! I’ve only done this for Drift, but I find it really helps.

15. Why did you start writing?

I started calling myself a writer when I was eleven, after taking a formal writing course.

16. Are there any characters who haunt you?

Ashton from Drift. I’ve talked about him before. He’s the hardest character I’ve ever had to write.

17. If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Push through the writer’s block! You’ll thank yourself later.

18. Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

I’m constantly being inspired by works I read. Doctor Sleep by Stephen King absolutely took my breath away, and it helped me develop the voice I write from. 

19. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I create separate documents for characterization, plotting, and editing notes. I’ve also started creating calendars that help me see the timeline of the plot.

20. Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

I write for anywhere from half an hour to two hours at a time. I try to write one chapter every time I sit down to write, unless I have really bad writer’s block or if there’s several scenes in one chapter.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

I go through a whole series of emotions. Sometimes I’m embarrassed and want to delete it all, and other times it makes me proud to see how far I’ve come.

22. Are there subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Not necessarily. When you’re writing in the suspense genre, you have to really be open to writing almost anything.

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

One of my past writing teachers took me to an art museum and told me to tell the story behind pieces I found interesting. It definitely helped me view the world through an artistic lens.

24. Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I have way too much knowledge on serial killers. It’s weird but true. In order to perfect the antagonist in Forgive Me, I had to study the behavior and motives of serial killers both real and fictional.

25. Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of.

I’m currently editing, so I’m not going to post anything longer than a sentence for now, because nothing is completely finalized yet. But I’m definitely proud of Forgive Me, because it’s the first novel I ever completely finished.

I’m going to tag @forlornraven​ @lityersess​ @stephaniewrites​ @create-and-procrastinate​ @starlitesymphony​ @wchwriter​ @official-arnie-nutts​ @thewriterkatie @thewingwriter​ @byjillianmaria and @knightedwriter​

[am-i-jeanne]

I mean.... I already had some idiot over an wattpad steal a chapter from my fanfic, and when I contacted her to delete it, she had a bunch of her friends attacking me, claiming they knew she wrote it because she said so. Bitch, I've still got the original file with the rp texts the story came from. Back in 2012.

It's hard enough for me to put my work out there because I'm never convinced it's any good, but this? I don't want my work here, I don't want some random app profiting off of content that I wrote based off someone else's copyrighted content, because I don't want anyone to turn around and be stupid and try to sue me. I'll readily admit that none of my fanfics are original works fully owned by me, I just added my own little twists that I thought would be fun to read, but claim none of it as my own to profit from. I write fanfic for fun and stress relief. That's all. I write original poetry on the side, and that I will absolutely claim entirely as my own, but my fanfics, no.

Also... writing these take time and effort, and we do it all for free, or on comission, but still we're not mass producing those either. Those are one time transactions and that's all the profit to be made from it. But it's still time and effort and ideas and inspiration and it's not a career, so if we don't get money for it, this app doesn't deserve to either.

I don't even want to check it to see if my two fanfics are there, because I've got enough currently freaking me out, but no one asked if it was okay. I wouldn't have given permission, I never will. I post my fanfics on AO3 for a reason, it's safe for me and for readers. This isn't. This isn't okay. This feels like a violation and I am not okay...

Holy crap ok so

You’re probably about to see a lot of crap going round about this because what the hell?? It’s advertised on the playstore as an unofficial AO3 app with free fanfic to read and it’s pretty popular

I downloaded it and yeah… when they say unofficial AO3 app they really mean they’ve ripped a bunch of content off AO3 and it’s just on there to read. Searching my AO3 handle gets me this:

What the hell. That’s my stuff. 144 fics to read. The stats you can see for the ones there are ripped from AO3 too. Beyond obviously, I was never contacted about having my work put up on an app I’ve never heard of. And what makes this better?

There’s an option to go Premium and even to leave a tip. They’re purportedly keeping the app alive with this cash but to call a spade a spade, they’re profiting off fanfic by ripping it from AO3 and asking users to pay for a premium service.

I’m furious. The reviews on this app are all talking about how useful the users did or didn’t find it; no one seems concerned that the app should not exist in the first place. What the hell

As a writer I’m going to be contacting AO3 about this (though things seem to be kicking off to the point that I’m sure they already know). I’m making this post to let any users of the app know: I know having an AO3 app would be great but this is not the answer. To rip content from people on AO3 and try to profit from it is deeply not okay, and flies directly in the face of so many core elements of fandom. We are not for sale.