#instead I went backwards and I can't beta read these now

[buysomecheese]

https://at.tumblr.com/buysomecheese/soldier-poet-king-quiz-but-dndads-kiddads-lark/pkaw84zyfm1u

Pt. 1 https://at.tumblr.com/buysomecheese/httpsattumblrcombuysomecheesesoldier-poet-ki/g8g61pubq4kw

Pt. 2 here!!

Pt. 3 https://at.tumblr.com/buysomecheese/httpsattumblrcombuysomecheesesoldier-poet-ki/wuh9mktbo9f5

Kids:

Lark- soldier. Everyone expected that. Everyone knows how he holds his anger, how much he feels and how strongly. He wishes he wanted to let go, but nothing has been consistent in his life except for his anger, his grief, and his brother. And what is grief if not anger directed in, what is his Sparrow if not a reflection of himself? What are twins if not mirrors, foils, parallels? For as long as Lark is angry, his Sparrow will be grieving. For as long as Sparrow is fuming, Lark will be bereaved. Nothing is, or could be, more of a comfort to him. Nothing is, or could be, a greater sense of pain to him.

Sparrow- everyone else expected poet. Sparrow was the only one truly not taken aback when she showed their phone screen, matching Lark’s. She honestly wishes he’d been less honest; maybe then, looks of surprise wouldn’t be plastered across their faces, shame flooding through Sparrow’s beaten body. His anger is shameful. Anger is painful, for the people she wants to be able to love and the people who’ve decided to love them. “Remember: love is passion too.” Bold, assuming he feels the love they talk about. Rude to assume she understands love or passion or anger. All he can do is want and lash out, apologize and hurt.

Terry Jr.- wanted king, got poet. Honestly, he did expect this outcome. However, it’s fun to imagine. He feels so much responsibility for so much all of the time, it would’ve been nice to see that recognized. But he guesses that this would be the way it turns out. He gives so much for his friends; he tries so hard in the areas he’s inept in. Always feeling like it’s never enough, what can he do to make things just a little bit easier? “Just live,” a little voice in his head will remind him. “You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are.” A longer, a more poetic version of what he’d hear his mother tell his (step) father, what his (step) father would repeat to him- “You are enough just as you are.” Yes, but he wants to be overfilling with things to offer. He wants to be a pool in a hurricane, more water than can be held, forgetting about the destructive natures of such things.

Nicky- oh, how the soldier called to him. How much they would love to fight for, with, and against their lovebird, their closest friends. He idealized that idea, wanting so bad to be strong and find intensity in the anger in every place they went, every person they interacted with. Neither of them want the poet. Neither of them find themselves creating in that way, a way that’s too reminiscent of Nick before he was lost and of Glenn after that same event. He knows, they know, how the pain they’ve been through and felt and share is so unique it should be considered an art form, but that would prompt people to admire and idolize. A concept they are too familiar with from each of their own personal childhoods, they have such convoluted feelings on the subject. To create is to provide others’ with things to love and a pedestal for under his feet. To fight is to provide and protect and stabilize; even to rule would be a better fate. But oh well, if they are destined to follow in footsteps already laid out for them, at least they know they’ll be cool.

Grant- poet is the only one that would even make sense. He’s a librarian; he has an English degree, he annotates poems in his free time- not that there’s much of that anymore. He would find himself talking with Terry, much closer now that everyone is changing. If he took this quiz when he was younger, he would get soldier. Terry got poet; of course, they share literature all the time. And yet. It is the crown that finds him, the duty to lead that was thrust into his small 13 year old hands. He didn’t have it in him then. It had to fester, he had to watch his dad and TJ grow up and find ways to be firm but not cruel before he could even begin to allow himself a place at the helm of the ship that is his friends, the ship fighting the things that have hurt them all in the ways they’ve been hurt. He has the poet within him though; he sees it in the flowery language he uses in his journal, in describing how things are different and will never be the same. Maybe he can breathe someday. Maybe he can grow into what he believes he wants to be.

[verdantvulpus]

Hii!

Found you here after reading Friends with benefits series on AO3. You are the queen and I loooove you writing!

My question is about the Separation Anxiety part. Will you continue updating the story?

Thanks!

Yes! Absolutely!

I screwed myself over a bit when I originally blocked out the chapters because it turns out I'm balls at following a script. Half of Seperation Anxiety is already somewhat written because it happened on the twitter RP accounts. So much character growth happened for the book boys there that most of my readers never got to see. Now I can't write TTWBAD2 without addressing this gap because the book boys are in a much different place than they were at the end of TTWBAD. Trust me when I say TTWBAD2 needs to start with them all in a better position or it's gonna be an angstier story than what I want to I write...

So I took out a spreadsheet and figured out what key scenes were needed and then tried to shoehorn some tv boy stuff in there to bring them along for the ride aaaaaannnnnd can you believe it didn't work?!?

So after many conversations with my very patient beta reader, then periods of me hiding or wallowing because I didn't follow the advice of my very patient beta reader, I'm finally understanding that I can't plan these chapters out. I need to let it grow organically. It means letting go of the exact path the twitter book boys took, while still holding to the spirit of it, and to stop overthinking it.

The other end of things was that IRL got banger nuts this summer and only went GANGER FUTS in September when I was told I had 2 months to complete my Scouter training instead of my promised 12 (!!!)

Then I promised myself some stuff for Patreon in October that I've already had to widdle down. Then, last week, I got a head cold which turned me into a literal puddle of goo, incapable of writing or drawing due Tommy lack of cohesive form.

But GOOD NEWS

It turns out I'm further ahead in my Scouter training than I thought and I don't have to panic after all (long story), and it turns out I was doing Inktober-esque collections backwards and working too hard (long story (of my life)) and here's the best part!!

I'm visiting my parents in New Brunswick this week for Thanksgiving (Canada) and this means I'll be away from my very big (and very distracting) drawing tablet. I'm using this downtime to get back to writing and letting the story happen however it wants. With any luck I'll update soon with a story and nonsensical and meandering as this answer to your ask!

(sorry for the nonsensical and meandering answer.)

P.s. if you're one of the ppl recently commenting on my fics, thank you! I'm terrible at answering comments but they've really helped me chip away at my mental block