#it was all on written paper but somehow i kissed my typed outline

[dungeonsdragonstdelinquents]

IM SO HAPPY I FOUND MY OUTLINE FOR MY HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE PAPER FROM HS SO I CAN FINALLY WRITE IT AGAIN

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - still_i_fall

He wants to forget how it felt to be hers for just one second.

- remember it’s all pretend @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right

one of the most prolific writers in the hallie fandom, @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right (still_i_fall) has graced us with classic after classic. i had an absolute blast talking with her, and hope you all enjoy the interview!

q&a

Hey! Thanks again for including me in this! Very excited to answer the questions. I love talking about myself. 

Favorite of your stories (and why)

I almost got stuck on this question. I really want to say remember it’s all pretend because I am so incredibly proud of that one. It was the first multi chapter fic that I ever properly finished and I feel like that really means something to me. I also really love that concept, and how it was able to fit in slowburn and enemies to friends to lovers and mutual pining plus a million other little tropes. And, most of all, it was really fun to write. It happened really easily. It’s something I’ll go back to sometimes if I’m ever in the mood to reread my own work. 

But I also love this new thing that I just wrote called i just wanna dance with you. I think if I can pull it off, it could be something really amazing. I was able to write the first chapter in about a week and had a ton of fun doing it. And I really love writing Harry’s pov and just switching things up a little. Ugh, I really love the idea of hallie meeting/knowing each other as little kids and I think that’s pretty apparent in these two fics. 

Easiest story to write

I’ll stop the world (and melt with you) happened really quickly which I guess qualifies it as easy to write. I thought it’d be more difficult just because so much of it is dependent on canon which is something I’m not entirely used to, but it ended up going to fast. I think somewhere I still have a page of notes on that Prom episode and everything that happens to Allie and Harry. I really wanted to include pieces of dialogue from the show. 

I also think it was because I used to do this thing when I was bored where I’d think about who I’d want to be trapped in a Groundhog day like loop with and what’d I’d do. It was just this recurring thought/ daydream I had when I was younger so it’s definitely a situation that I’ve thought through a little. 

Hardest story to write

The taste, the touch, the way we love has been a pain in the ass to write right from the start. Sometimes it’s really fun, but I think I’ve been sticking way too close to the outline I drew at the very start and have been avoiding writing it for too long. Sometimes I absolutely love to write it and have the time of my life, and other times I hate it. There’s not much of an in between. Still definitely want to finish it. Just waiting on that final bit of inspiration. 

Pre-writing process

I’m all about doing a full outline. Usually. With most longer fics (anything I think will be over 6,000 words), I do a full outline where I plan out the progression of the fic and specific scenes and pieces of dialogue. Usually, the plot hits me all at once and is usually the easiest part of the writing process for me. From that original outline, I usually have at least a few specific scenes fully planned out with pieces of dialogue and/or exposition. For example, for i’ll stop the world I started out the planning process with the introduction piece of the fic. That first paragraph is straight out of the note apps on my phone. A lot of the time it’ll end up being a bullet point list of main bits. I’ll use parentheses to specify the tone of a scene or little details and then use brackets for things that I want verbatim in the fic. 

But sometimes I end up with very little pre-planning. The skating au is kinda the only good example of this. I only had the roughest of outlines for that one (how i wanted the first chapter to start and end) and everything else just came together as I tried to get from point A to point B. 

What drew you to Hallie

The potential. They could have a really great story and I think that’s fun. There’s a lot of chemistry there and their dynamic is fun and, yeah, I think I’m a little too far in to get out now.

Favorite line (or lines)/ section you’re proud of

God, I have so many. Hope you don’t mind me going through them. It’s incredibly self indulgent but also gives me an excuse to go through my old works.

From the very first hallie fic I ever wrote, how you wish it would be all the time:

“And Harry's not perfect. He's not what she wanted before this all started or even really after, but everything's different now.”

Sometimes I forget about this fic, but I really shouldn’t cause there is a solid chance that this was my peak. And this line is really fun. 

From we kiss and we keep busy:

“The stars may have moved a little bit, but they’re still there, and they still look the same, and that’s good enough for her.”

I promise I’m not going through every hallie fic I’ve ever written but god I love this line. 

From i saved a picture where your hair was braided:

“It’s late nights and long talks and video games and cookie dough. It’s almost kisses, then definite kisses, and then not wanting to wake up anywhere but his bed. That’s how she starts to fall in love with Harry Bingham.”

Just that last part. That last line. The rest is just there for some fun context. Fun fact: this entire little mini fic was a desperate attempt to stave off writer's block and is based entirely around that single line in the song Donna by the lumineers. Still had a lot of fun with it, though.

From remember it’s all pretend:

“He wonders when she’ll realise that this hasn’t been pretend for him in years.    Probably never.    (He’d still run away with her.)”

“In the back of her mind, Allie wonders why she didn’t try harder to stay with Harry, why now she can only seem to fall in love in front of a camera where there’s the promise of pretend.”

“She likes to think that they’re still friends, that they’re just friends who don’t talk anymore, two people who drifted because one couldn’t handle the idea of change.”

This fic has a million little bits that I love. I could literally go on forever. It’s just full of that mutual pining angst that I live for. 

From but i close my eyes and i’m somewhere else:

“She did not mention this earlier because she was trying desperately hard to ignore it, but fuck, she’s really missed him calling her Pressman.”

“She wonders if Cassandra has any travel sized neck pillows.”

This fic is surprisingly good seeing as I don’t remember writing it at all. I was very much high on some sort of flu medication while writing this and I think that explains a lot about this fic. It’s fun, though. I really love the tone.

From the taste, the touch, the way we love:

“She starts to feel like she couldn’t avoid Harry if she wanted to (and somehow, as the days turn into weeks, she finds herself not wanting to more and more).”

“There’s saltwater in her eyes, hair, and mouth. Harry’s leaning back in it, floating. She is too. The water is blue, and warm, and the sky is clear. Sometimes his hand will grab hers just to pull her closer. When she thinks of calm, of happiness, and vacation, she’ll think of this moment.”

“They’re quiet for a moment. Maggie Rogers can be heard in the background, faded and slow. Harry’s tapping his fingers along to it on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. The road is lined with trees, and it all feels like home.”

“For a half a second, she thinks she loves him. She pushes that away and watches him throw wrapping paper behind him dramatically. She pushes it away and she smiles and she laughs and she tries not to think too hard about what all of this means.”

This fic definitely has its moments. I’m really excited to get the last part done and out, though. I just feel like I’ve spent too long on this fic. I want it done.

From i just wanna dance with you:

“Allie met Harry the same day Cassandra did. It was early in the morning and she was four and now, when she looks back, all she can remember from the moment is the vague outline of wild hair and a smile so bright and wide and carefree that it really can’t be anyone else’s.”

“She tries to remember that she likes skating with Will, that there’s no point in wondering what it’d be like if things were just a little bit different.”

“She lied earlier; gold, silver, bronze, doesn’t matter. Harry always looks good.”

“The first time he ever placed first in a competition, she was skating with him. He wonders how long he’ll associate the feeling of a gold medal around his neck with her hand in his. He hopes it’s not long. “

I’m so excited to finish this fic like you guys don’t even understand. It’s really fun and it feels easy to write (so far; knock on wood) and I love the concept. 

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read?

I only write au’s just because I think the rules are little different, everything’s just a little bit more relaxed. You’re allowed so much freedom when it’s a completely different universe and I really love that. I went through a phase recently where I was obsessed with canon divergence and this whole idea of a history of contingency. Just there being these points or moments where if one thing was just a little different, everything would’ve changed. I love that and I think that’s really apparent in my drafts/ unreleased wips. 

I’ll read anything, though. Especially with the Hallie ao3 page being so small. I do definitely have a preference still towards au’s, though.

How long have you been writing

For forever. As a kid, I’d fill up entire notebooks with story ideas. It was my favorite thing to do. When I was twelve, a teacher complimented my writing, and I think that really stuck with me. It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing. 

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received

Not really. A little bit with multi chapter stories just because I really want every chapter to be better than the last. I just really don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

What’s the hardest part of writing for you

The middle bits. I usually have a very clear idea of the beginning and end so it’s everything in between that I have trouble with. I think that’s why I’m so big on outlining.

Do you ever get writer's block and how do you deal with it

Oh my god all the fucking time! Right now, for example. Usually, I just try to work through it, especially if I have a project in progress. I also do a lot of reading to try to force some sort of inspiration. A lot of what I write is based on what I’m reading. I’ll also listen to music. And, recently, I’ve been making mood boards for my fics which has been so much fun. I really like looking at pretty pictures.

Biggest risk you’ve taken as a writer

Lol I don’t really take risks. I think the riskiest thing I do is post the first chapter of a story with none of the second chapter started. I do that a lot. 

Favorite Hallie trope

Reluctant friends to very good friends to lovers. Also, living together without establishing a clear relationship. I write that a lot. Mutual pining is always fun too. 

Favorite Hallie headcanon

That Harry calls Allie ‘Pressman’ which forces Allie to call him ‘Bingham’. I just think there’s something so fun about calling someone by their last name. Plus, then you get that moment when the first name is used and that gets to be significant. Oh, also that they both swear like sailors, but that’s mostly self-insert on my part.

This felt very self indulgent, but I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable for someone. 

I am forever waiting to read whatever @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right writes next. It was great to see some of the behind the scenes and I would definitely recommend her latest release cities you’ll never see on screen.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Forty-Six: Hearts in Atlantis

“There are also books full of great writing that don’t have very good stories. Read sometimes for the story... Don’t be like the book-snobs who won’t do that. Read something for the words- the language. Don’t be like the play-it-safers that won’t do that. But when you find a book that has both a good story and good words, treasure that book.” 

As a lifelong and Constant reader, there are certain books that act as a time machine... I can remember where I was when I cracked the spine for the first time, my current mental state, how the people in my life impacted the way I viewed the characters, current events... the best type of books do this for you. They act as a time machine and take you back to being young and eighteen, even when you’re forty, your back hurts and you no longer have the deep sleep that only the youth are blessed with.

Hearts in Atlantis is this book for me.

 I remember being eighteen, and sitting on the second floor porch of the Edgewater in Old Orchard Beach, Maine; devouring the advanced reading copy like it was my job. Well, it kind of was my job; I was gainfully employed at a bookstore that took more of my money than I made. I remember a young, cute cleaning guy seeing my book, and telling me to drive up to Bangor and find Steve’s house. This struck me as a particularly inspired idea, and I convinced my mom and sister to do it. 

For the very young Constant Readers, this was back before the days of social media and accessible internet. There was no typing, “How do you get to Stephen King’s house?” into Google. So, we took off on our drive, and stopped at the Bangor Chamber of Commerce and stupidly asked, “Hey, how do you find Stephen King’s house?” 

They proceeded to give me directions which I jotted down...and kept! Finding this piece of paper tucked inside the book made me smile. 

But spoiler! The directions are backwards. Back in the day before social media, Bangor protected Steve (well, except for the asshole who hit him with his van), and they didn’t give directions out to his house to obvious tourists. Thankfully, my sense of direction is terrible, and we accidentally found Steve’s house anyway! I wish I still had the pictures, I remember grinning like a fool. It’s still one of the craziest, most spontaneous adventures ever. 

Is Hearts in Atlantis a good book? 

Yes. 

Is my review colored by the memories surrounding this book? 

Also yes.

And honestly? My reading of it this time was far richer because of all the Dark Tower references I hadn’t yet read. It’s obvious in the first novella that Steve is deep in Dark Tower thoughts. The concepts of Breakers hasn’t even been discussed in the previous four books yet. So let’s get into it, shall we?

Hearts in Atlantis is broken up into five novellas and in my opinion, the first is the strongest, and they get progressively weaker as they go on (still good, just not AS good). 

The first one, Low Men in Yellow Coats centers around the unexpected friendship between Bobby Garfield and his new neighbor, Ted Brautigan. Bobby is being raised by his cold, and slightly distracted single mother, and Ted hires him for a kind-of detective job: looking for missing pets signs around the neighborhood, “items for sale” signs hung upside down in the local grocery store, and hearts, stars, and moons drawn around hopscotch outlines. If Bobby sees any of these things, he needs to tell Ted immediately, because it means The Low Men are after him. The Low Men wear yellow coats, and drive around in obnoxiously flashy cars. Ted doesn’t explain WHY they’re after him, he just explains they’re bad guys. 

In the midst of his detective work, Bobby is hanging with his friends Sully-John and Carol Gerber, who he might be feeling some kind of way towards. There’s a day at the beach, and a kiss on the Ferris wheel that’s particularly sweet in it’s innocence. But then Sully John leaves for a week of YMCA camp, and Bobby is left mostly with Ted. Ted recommends Lord of the Flies, which changes Bobby’s life. He swears he’ll never go back to reading kids books again. 

Bobby’s mom is really suspicious of Ted, but not too suspicious, since she leaves him in charge of Bobby while she goes to a real estate conference with her creeper of a boss. A word about Bobby’s mom. I find her to be one of the worst Steve villains written. She’s truly as evil as Pennywise. Why? Because she’s real. And there are moms out there like her. Moms that let their kids go without, but always manage to have a fresh manicure or a new bag. Moms that blame their poor living situation on their ex, and make their kids feel bad about it. Moms that just don’t like their kids. It’s a thing. And it makes me sad. 

While she’s at her conference, Bobby and Ted hit up a sketchy bar in an equally sketchy neighborhood, where Ted makes a bet on an upcoming boxing match. Bobby then understands Ted has powers: he can see into the future and can read minds. And when he touches Bobby, his ability brushes off on him. Bobby has seen some of the things Ted has been warning him about, but he hasn’t told Ted, because he didn’t want Ted to get spooked and leave town. Bobby doesn’t have a lot of people who have shown an interest in him the same way Ted has. 

The story comes to a climactic point when Bobby finds Carol being beaten up in the woods by some neighborhood boys. He carries her back to his place where Ted fixes her dislocated shoulder. Bobby’s mom walks in beaten up (physically) from her time at the real estate conference, and assumes Ted is molesting Carol based on the way he’s touching her, and his torn shirt. 

Ted leaves, Bobby is hysterical, and his mom goes to take a nap. Bobby heads back to the bar he and Ted went to, assuming Ted is going to stop there to pick up his gambling wins. Bobby finds the Low Men escorting Ted away. Come to find out, he’s a very powerful breaker: one who can break the beams The Dark Tower is resting upon. If the breakers all go, there’s no Tower. 

SO MANY DARK TOWER REFERENCES!

“All things serve the Beam”

“Ka”

“Other worlds than these”

“The Crimson King” 

“All things serve The King, or All things serve The Beam?” <- a moral dilemma for our times.

“Tower, Beams, and Breakers”

So, Ted is shuffled away by the Low Men, Bobby ends up with his winnings, his mom recovers from her sexual assault, she and Bobby move away, and he keeps in touch with Carol. One day, she sends him a letter she had received from Ted, with the most beautiful rose petals inside. Tis ka. 

Novella two is Hearts in Atlantis... the story of how the Vietnam War affected a group of students on the University of Maine campus in Orono, especially Peter Riley. 

Pete shows up on campus with his Goldwater bumper sticker, and eventually leaves as a war protester with a peace sign scrawled on the back of his letterman jacket. It’s an honest look at how college changes kids. Few kids leave with the same beliefs and sheltered world views they go in with. And no, Karen, it’s not indoctrination by liberal professors... sometimes kids talk to each other and realize they’re not all the same, and some have viewpoints worth listening to, and potentially adapting. Mind-blowing, I know. 

There’s a lot of card playing... so much card playing in fact, most of the boys don’t end up coming back to campus. This isn’t great, since you’re on the draft list if you’re not in college. Pete makes friends with, and eventually hooks up with Carol Gerber, who has to break it to her boyfriend John Sullivan (Sully John) that she’s kind of in love with someone else. Awkward. 

Carol ends up protesting the Vietnam war, and drops out of college. Pete never hears from her again. He pulls his shit together, passes his classes, and realizes his original viewpoints on politics was silly and sheltered. It’s a great story. 

Novella three is Blind Willie, and it’s a short, strange little story. Bill Shearman (one of the boys who beat Carol Gerber up in the first novella), travels to his office in New York City where he transforms into Blind Willie, a Vietnam war vet who panhandles for change. It’s unclear if his wife knows this is how he brings money home, and it’s also slightly unclear whether or not Bill actually becomes blind when he puts on his Blind Willie costume. But, his claim to fame is that John Sullivan pulled him out of the jungle and onto a helicopter during the Vietnam War. 

Novella four is Why We’re In Vietnam and starts with John Sullivan going to the funeral for a soldier he served with in Vietnam. We find out John is frequently visited by an elderly woman he witnessed being killed in Vietnam. He refers to her as “Mamasan”. John ruminates over his fallen soldiers (some of whom were dropouts from the University of Maine Orono campus, and all knew Pete Riley), what the war did to his life, and how upset he was that Carol Gerber became an extreme protester who ended up blowing up a building that killed quite a few people, including (presumably) herself. 

On his way home from the funeral, he’s stuck in crazy traffic. He looks over, and thinks he sees Carol in a car a few lanes over. He goes over to investigate, and all of a sudden, heavy, deadly garbage starts falling out of the sky. One of the things that falls is Bobby Garfield’s old baseball mitt (that Bill Shearman had stolen from him when they were kids). John grabs the mitt and tries to duck the garbage. Mamasan beckons him to her, and promises to take care of him. 

There was no garbage falling out of the sky. John was killed by a major heart attack. But, he did somehow end up with Bobby’s baseball glove. Curious. 

The final novella, Heavenly Shades of Night Are Falling recap Bobby Garfield going back home for John’s funeral. He meets with Carol; who is no longer Carol, and now Denise Schoonover; her new identity after that whole ‘blowing up a building, killing people and faking her own death’ thing. Carol/Denise has his old baseball glove, and somehow got it from Ted, who got it from John. I’m not sure. And then fade to black. 

It’s a lovely collection of novellas, all strung together with the same group of characters. Admittedly, I’m too young to know anything real about the 1960′s beyond bell bottoms and peace signs, so it was a slice of history and culture. And it wouldn’t be a Steve book if there weren’t mentions of the Derry newspaper, and a chambray work shirt. 

There was one Wisconsin mention. In the first novella, Sully John’s mom was taking the Greyhound to northern Wisconsin for vacation. God bless. My own family wasn’t even able to do that this summer. #thankscovid 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 29

Total Dark Tower References: 45

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Storm of the Century: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next up we have On Writing; which I also adore. But I need to build up all this goodwill and warm feelings toward Steve, because Dreamcatcher is right on the horizon, and to borrow a quote from the second novella, “It sucks the rigid cock of Satan.”

Seriously, y’all...

That is hands down one of the best insults I’ve heard in a long time. If I wasn’t the mother of an already feral child, I’d start using that on the reg. Do me a favor, and find a subtle way to use it in conversation sometime soon. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca 

[canarhys]

If you write a valdangelo college AU I’ll perish

“nico, you’re staring at him again.”

“huh?” nico looked back to his best friend, turning his gaze away from the boy near the window to percy jackson, sitting sideways in his chair and sipping his energy drink, a monster can that he finished with about three gulps. “i’m not—”

“yeah, i’ve heard that before dude.” percy crushed the can tossed it like a basketball to the nearby trash, nearly missing by an inch. “score. and you had those big goo-goo eyes. just go talk to the guy.”

nico stared at percy as if he had grown a second head. “i am not.”

“okay, well, aren’t you two minoring philosophy this year? you see him, what, twice a week in the afternoon?”

“percy, just because i can see him at a different time of day doesn’t mean i can talk to him.” nico stared at his coffee, significantly cooler enough for him to take a sip. it still left a burn on his tongue, though not as strong as when he mistakenly took a sip before. “besides, he sits in the front. far from me.”

“meet him after class,” percy suggested. “or like talk to him. he’s not a demon or anything. you’re not going to die if you start a conversation.”

“yes, i will.” nico looked back at the boy at the window, busy typing something on his laptop. he was wearing a flannel as it was autumn and not yet too cold for light wear, a beanie discarded next to him on the table. nico traced his outline with his eyes, already sketching him out with his deep rich skin and his curly hair, dark and wispy, his sweet caramel eyes scanning the paragraph he was currently writing. nico suspected it was for philosophy, which was his class later in the day and they had been assigned a book report a few days earlier. the sun was starting to peek over the buildings, showering a curtain of golden light on the boy and making him glow. he was radiant.

“you seriously have it bad,” percy interrupted, silencing his train of thought. “we need to find you a better outlet for your creepy stalking.”

[[MORE]]

nico sputtered. “i’m not stalking him!”

he said that a little too loudly, causing a few patrons at the campus coffee shop to stare at him. his face flushed. at least the guy wasn’t staring, as he seemed extremely hyperfixated on getting that paper done. nico and percy began talking again when everyone went back to doing what they had been doing.

“you’ve been staring at him for the past two weeks, every day until he leaves or you leave. it’s got to stop!” percy stood up, causing the chair to stumble and nearly fall if percy hadn’t caught it at the last second. “go talk to him.”

nico sighed. well, it was better now than never. percy wouldn’t stop pestering him, and the guy seemingly got cuter every day. he’d probably combust if he would never see that boy again. so he stood up and was about to walk over to the guy when—

“shit!” the guy exclaimed after he checked his watch, hurriedly standing up from his seat and shutting his laptop closed, placing it in his carry-on bag and quickly rushing out of the shop, almost bumping into people on the way. nico was frozen. he didn’t know which was worse — the boy having left, or the fact that the boy looked at him at the last minute before running away. well, there goes that opportunity.

and... he’s gone.

“well.” percy whistled. “that went great.”

“you’re a fucking idiot.” and nico almost went back to his seat before something caught his eye on the guy’s desk. he had left his beanie.

he went over and picked it up. it was black, and had a small texas flag patch imbedded into the center front. he checked the small tag on the inside of it.

leo valdez.

“hey, you know his name now!” percy exclaimed, slapping a hand on nico’s back. “ya know, this gives you a great opportunity to—”

“percy, shut up, you were literally oblivious to annabeth showing you hints that she liked you since day one.” but nico stuffed the beanie in his bookbag anyway.

percy blushed. “it’s not my fault her hints were so obvious that they were unnoticeable.” he shook his head. “and don’t change the subject. at philosophy, you march right up to him, give him back his beanie, and ask him out somewhere.”

easier said than done, but because this was too good a chance to waste and because percy was somehow bringing his hopes up with every encouragement, he finally agreed.

“but if he rejects me, you’re buying me seventy happy meals.”

“deal.”

—

leo couldn’t believe it. he has forgotten his beanie again.

as if the day couldn’t get worse. he had barely finished his philosophy report while hanging out with piper and jason, whom he had rushed to get to in time for their scheduled study group. then he had accidentally spilled orange juice on piper’s homework. piper said it was chill since she had a backup one on her computer (one of the few times she had it, thank god) but leo had apologized immensely. then, as he was listening to aminé on his headphones, he had realized that he had forgotten his beanie at the campus café. he rushed over there in nearly a minute, and cursed loudly when he saw that it was gone. he had checked the lost and found. gone. he had asked one of the employees, and they said all they saw was a guy stuff it in his bookbag and leave with a friend.

so, yeah, his gifted beanie from frank was stolen. just great.

he sighed, exasperated with the day, and already hoping to head back to his dorm at the end of the day and fall asleep in his own misery. he rested his head on the desk. he was in the philosophy classroom, the first one because... well, he just didn’t want to be late again. he took out his phone to check the battery. 17%. he hates god.

he rested his head back on the desk when he heard a pair of footsteps enter the classroom. he suspected it was octavian, who was usually first (leo couldn’t wait to tease him about it) when he heard the footsteps enter his row. octavian sits in the back, next to that one kid with the baby bat wing hair.

“excuse me.”

leo looked up. his eyes widened, his heart stopped, his breathing stopped. it was was baby bat wing kid, but up close, and leo never even realized how hot he looked up close. the guy was freckled all over his face, with obsidian eyes and a usually grim expression that was morphed currently into one of... nervousness. he holding his backpack in one hand, which was slung over his shoulder, and the other clutching...

“is this yours?” he asked after good minute. he seemed frozen too, but leo felt a grin grow on his face.

“dude, holy shit!” he grabbed it, staring at it to make sure it was his. black, texas flag, and his chicken scratch written name on the tag inside. definitely his. “thank you! were you the one the employee said took it?”

“yeah, i, uh, wanted to give it back to make sure it wasn’t stolen,” nico answered. “i remembered you were in my philosophy class... because i look at you— i mean, you’re in the front, so you’re face is kinda hard to miss and... sorry.”

oh god, the guy was adorable too. leo felt his face flush.

“it’s fine,” he replied. “your name is... nico?”

nico blinked. “you know my name?”

“i mean, the professor calls roll every class,” leo said shrugging, seeing nico’s shoulders droop. “i remembered your voice.”

“my voice?”

“accent.”

“ah.”

they fell into an awkward silence. leo looked from side to side before sighing, already knowing his messing up his only conversation with a beautiful man that he was literally trying not to ask out. “i’m sorry, i’m a bit awkward,” he apologized.

“no, it’s fine!” nico replied. “i’m not that good at communication.”

“mood.”

nico gave a small laugh, sending a torrent of butterflies flying amock in leo’s stomach.

“hey,” nico started, shuffling his feet, “i’m, uh, a major in photography? and we’re doing a project right now, people studies and shit like that. i need a model for it by next week and...”

leo blinked. was he asking him to be a model for him? leo felt jittery, a thousand jumping jelly beans already ready to burst with the amount of blushing leo was doing.

“you want me to model for you?” nico nodded, and leo laughed.

“that sounds great dude, but, i’m not really visually pleasant for a camera—”

“but you’re beautiful!”

leo froze, looking at nico with a gaping mouth and darkened cheeks. nico covered his mouth, and leo could see him blushing hard. leo probably wasn’t any better. the two stared at each other, nico struggling to come up with an explanation and leo struggling to reply.

“sorry, uh, i should go—”

“wait, don’t!” leo stood up and grabbed his hand before he could escape (to where, leo didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let him go). nico craned his neck towards him, and words nearly came in a jumble. “i’m... i’m free for this week and the next except saturday night and other things. i—” he took a deep breath. “i think you’re beautiful too.”

nico turned to face him, his face equivalent to a surprised puppy. he was quiet for a second. “you mind if we start tomorrow?”

“hell yeah! i’m free!” leo opened up his hand to nico, who looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “uh, phone? so we can contact each other?”

nico seemed to realize this and went “oh,” fishing out his phone and unlocking it, handing it over. leo opened up his contacts and added his in before giving it back. nico took one look and snorted.

“bad boy supreme?”

“it’ll grow on ya. text me later, i’ll see if everything on my calendar is cleared.”

“cool,” was all nico said. he looked back down at his phone, smiling the most precious smile leo has ever seen. “cool. thanks leo.”

leo frowned. “wait, you know my name?”

nico looked embarrassed, gesturing vaguely to leo’s beanie. “the beanie.”

“ah.”

leo checked his watch. five minutes till class.

“you need to tell me what to do tomorrow, or else all your pictures are gonna be me falling off a building or something,” leo joked. “and do not take any nudes of me. the last thing i want is a college scandal.”

nico grinned. “i won’t,” he said.

“good.” then leo moved on his own, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. nico sputtered adorably as leo leaned back, making leo laugh. “you’re cute. text me later.”

nico looked like he forgot was oxygen was. leo felt a little guilty. a little. “yeah.”

halfway through professor aristotle’s lecture, leo looked back to see nico staring at him. he wondered if nico had ever looked at him from up there, noticed his dark hair and busy hands that could never stay still. he wondered if nico had ever noticed him in any other occasion. regardless, he felt his heart beat faster and his brain become pudding in his skull.

nico noticed he was looking back and startled a bit, looking to the side in embarrassment. leo laughed silently, giving him a little wave. nico gave him a little one back.

—

“are you two dating?” octavian questioned, seeing nico look starry-eyed at leo in the front.

nico stared at him. “no?” he said, knowing it sounded less like an answer and more like a confounded question.

“sure,” he said, the blonde turning back to his notebook before adding, “he likes hot chocolate.”

nico didn’t know why octavian was giving him advice but he took it with no grain of salt. the guy was weird but he was also pretty helpful at times. he leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn when suddenly his phone buzzed on the desk. he grabbed it and checked the notification.

bad boy supreme, 6:39 p.m.

hey

[sawamura-daichis-thighs]

get to know the author

I was tagged by @yaoyoroses :D thank you En!

Tag | @l1nkp1t​, @astersandstuffs​, @eccentrick-stardust​, @amajikies​, & @hajiiwa​ (if any of you would like to!)

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean? i wanted a Haikyuu!! themed username since i fell deep so here we are :3 in terms of my ao3 username, Miah_Kat, it’s a mashup of my nickname & a name for an old OC; i use some variation of it as a default whenever i make a new account somewhere bc i’m bad at thinking up usernames on the spot. ^^”

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos). what if i told you...? is at the top with 734 hits & 133 kudos (!!!!! holy crow) on tumblr, Cafuné is the most popular with 46 notes :”D

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it? it’s of megane Oikawa! ^^ i chose it because he’s one of my favorite characters & he looks damn good in glasses

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters? @l1nkp1t, @wallynorthbynorthwest, @ninja-spacenerd, & @littleop always leave me wonderful comments/tags that never fail to brighten my day!! ❤❤❤❤

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again? hmmm i can’t think of one off the top of my head but y’all should def check out my bookmarks & fic rec tag for some awesome works!!

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked? i’m subscribed to 46 users, 20 series, & 127 works. I’ve bookmarked 257.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most? i don’t stray far from canon-compliant stuff but i find myself writing a lot of getting together, first kisses, or domestic fluff kind of stuff. If I’m going to go full-AU though I lean towards fantasy.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page) i have 8 user subscribers, 17 unspecified subscriptions, & 111 bookmarks total ^^

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!) mmm well i think every writer has some general fears of being judged, regardless of what’s written. for me, maybe smut since i just don’t write it often (& i’ve only ever posted one fic that has it)

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc. writing in general?? lol idk i’d like to be more...dedicated, i guess? i can’t seem to finish anything without it taking months. i also have a hard time with details, so i’d like to find a good middle-ground with that. oh, and world-building when writing fantasy (it’s just so much work aslkdjfk)

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often? i write popular ships more often but i’m absolutely open to writing rarepairs! i know it can be disheartening to really love a ship but not be able to find much content for it, so i don’t mind getting rarepair requests. i like making people happy if i can :)

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)? 33 on ao3

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program? 18 WIPs in Google Docs & probably...10+ in my laptop files?

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head? oh, definitely write them down! i can keep them in my head for a little while but there’s a 95% chance of not remembering them after something distracts me lol

15. Have you ever co-authored a story? kind of? back in high-school my best friend & i used to write stories together. it was all for fun though, nothing that ever made it to a site. i think it would be fun to do a collab with someone though! :D

16. How did you discover AO3? i think a post from tumblr linked me to it & i’d seen a lot of people talking about it, so i gave it a shot.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3? HAH no way lmao  😂😂😂

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers? not really. i just think everyone who reads my stuff are wonderful, lovely people ^^

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write? i’ve read basically my whole life and fanfiction led me to writing. there wasn’t a specific story or author though; just the realization that i could also put my own twist on characters/fandoms i enjoyed. i also have an amazing best friend who supported my passion when it first began, so she’s definitely a huge part of why i continued to write.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author? read. a lot. write, even when you don’t want to or think it sucks. as with any kind of art, experience and practice is the only way you’ll get better. be open to constructive-criticism but don’t let the “rules” overwhelm or suffocate your passion. most importantly: write what you like! what you want to read! have fun with it!

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go? oh jeez, it’s a mixture of both? i usually start with a scene in my head that makes me go “i wanna write that” but then i have to find a way to get to the scene? so i either wing it, if the idea was clear enough, or i scribble down an outline to get my base ideas down but leave wiggle room for inspiration during the writing process.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do? i’m sure i have, back when i first started; i likely commented back that if it wasn’t their preference, there was no need to read the fic or leave a rude comment behind.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)  a c t i o n, definitely. i also get kind of stuck on kisses? idk how much detail to put into them lol

24. What story(s) are you working on now? even tho i’m slow af about it i’m currently working on 2 actively:

a makoharu gift exchange fic!

a klance fic with which i’m taking my first steps into writing for VLD (i’m jumping on the bandwagon where they’re somehow physically stuck together (via alien handcuffs in mine) for a time & grow closer as a result)

i’m always sorta-kinda working on my various iwaoi fics; the nipple-piercing fic is near completion & i’ve recently remembered my single dads au that i hope to work more on soon ^^

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)? pffftt all the time. the ideas are definitely more forthcoming than the Muse & motivation like to be.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself? nope. i tried that for a while but it didn’t stick.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started? absolutely! although i sometimes have mixed feelings about it, concentrating in creative writing definitely helped me improve in many ways.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written? i don’t...really...have one? ^^” i guess i am particularly fond of with a hoarse voice, under the blankets just because i feel i managed to get the atmosphere & imagery i wanted

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written? anything from when i first began lol

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years? hopefully still improving & enjoying what i write (as well as finishing what i start aslkdjfk). i’m not aiming for publication or anything; i just want to write for fun.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing? getting the ideas!

32. What is the hardest thing about writing? to quote En: “e v e r y t h i n g”

33. Why do you write? it’s fun! i enjoy making the ideas i have in my head come to fruition on paper. i like experimenting with styles and imagery & characters. i enjoy the happy dance my heart does when i know i’ve described a scene or a character just right. i’ve made a lot of amazing friends through writing & i love knowing something i’ve created might bring a smile to someone. ❤

[dovechim]

tongue tied

19 “can I hold your hand?” and 37 “can I kiss you? + namjoon + harry potter au

part of a request from anon for the 100 ways to say ily drabble game!

➾ Summary: Namjoon is down with a very unique curse, but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise. 

➾ word count: 2.6k, fluff

“_____, it’s Namjoon, again.” Jimin’s frantic voice lights up your fireplace, and you stop in the middle of your essay, quill poised in the air. You really, really have to finish this last sentence before getting distracted, but the growing heat of the flames emanating from the fireplace draws your attention insistently.

“I swear, what is it this time?” You turn to face the brief outline of Jimin’s face in the flames, and even though it’s blurry due to each and every leap of the embers, concern is etched deeply into the Hufflepuff’s features.

“There’s no time, we’re in Potions now! Hurry, please!!!” The flames die down before you have a chance to protest, to ask if this is really a life or death issue. Instead you heave a sigh and gather your blue robe around your shoulders, already having an inkling of the disaster that lay ahead. Namjoon and Potions is not a good combination, you’d learned over the past 4 years. He may be the brightest wizard of his age, excelling in topics like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but throw him an intensive hands on subject like Potions and Kim Namjoon is equivalent to a troll in a china shop.

In fact, he’s so bad at Potions that he got held back a year, so he’s the only fifth year student taking Potions at fourth year level. As you start to near the dungeons where the Potions classrooms are, you hear a boisterous voice vehemently protest against a chorus of accusations, and you already know even before entering that Jeon Jeongguk has a part to play in this mess. Bracing yourself for the ordeal ahead, you fling open the heavy wooden doors and immediately duck for cover. 

Instead, four confused pairs of eyes land on you, and you open your eyes cautiously from your position on the floor.

“Are you gonna help us or what?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow in disapproval at your cowering form. Stupid Gryffindors and their leap first, think later mentality.

“Last time you called me, I got attacked by a projectile of green slime, courtesy of Jeon Jeongguk over here,” you send him a brief glare.

“That was one time noona!” Jeongguk pipes up in protest, his dark brows furrowing in indignance as he shrugs his emerald robes onto his broad shoulders. 

“Wait, I think we’re forgetting what’s at stake here,” Jimin places a hand on Jeongguk’s chest. “Namjoon-“ 

Oh right. Something happened to Namjoon, which is why you’re here. You whip your head around to survey the tall, blonde who has remained silent so far, only to see him sitting calmly on his bench, his dark blue robes pulled close around him. Other than his slightly ruffled blonde hair, and glasses askew on his face, there seems to be nothing wrong with him. His expression is slightly dazed, and he’s staring straight ahead at the blackboard with the intensity he reserves for books and notes, except there’s nothing written on the blackboard in front of him. You reach for him cautiously, adjusting his horn rimmed glasses on his nose bridge, brushing his bangs from his eyes and casting a brief glance over him. “Joon, you okay?”

“He’s alright,” Jeongguk snickers from the side. “Or should I say, he’s fine.”

“What? I don’t get it, why isn’t he saying anything? Merlin’s beard, you didn’t accidentally mute him did you??” You turn round to face Jeongguk with a vengeance, grasping his collar. “I swear if you did something irreversible to him I’ll hex your balls off…”

“No I didn’t I swear!” Jeongguk’s eyes grow wide and all traces of laughter on his face immediately disappear in the face of your anger. Which is a joke really, since he’s almost a head and a half taller than you and built on pure muscle, and while even the sixth years are scared to death by him, a single glare from you is enough to send Jeongguk slithering back into his slimy hole. “I just left him alone stirring the pot for a second while I was practicing the incantation, and then…” 

“And then?”

“Then… here he is.”

“Merlin, how could you even leave Namjoon alone for a second in Potions? I thought you were supposed to be the one overlooking everything, is that not why you were moved up a year?” You relinquish your grip on him, and instead run a hand through your hair in frustration. These incidents, though not uncommon, have never been as puzzling as it is now. In the past it was relatively easy to identify what went wrong and the relevant counter spell, but now there seems to be nothing wrong with Namjoon. At least, not as far as you can see.

“Um, the thing is,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, finally breaking his staring contest with the blackboard. He fiddles with the buttons on his robe awkwardly. 

“What is it Joon?” You’ve never seen him this embarrassed before, and you automatically feel the need to comfort him. He’s not the most charming person, and he can be kind of awkward and shy at times, but his fumbling ways are adorable and an utter contrast to how incredibly intelligent he is. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, putting pressure where you know he often gets sore because of how much he studies.

“He can only talk in monosyllables,” Jimin finally blurts out, and you see the blush reignite on Namjoon’s cheeks.

“Wait, pardon?” You blink in confusion.

“Wait, yes, pardon, no,” Jeongguk clarifies helpfully. “So instead of pardon, he would have to say ‘what?’ instead. Y’know, like normal people.”

“I know what monosyllables means you idiot,” you huff in his direction. “What I meant is, how did this happen? What kind of potion was that? I’ve never even heard about it before.”

“Um, it wasn’t really in the textbook...”

“Jeon Jeongguk!!!”

“Noona, calm down,” Jimin has to physically restrain you to keep you from lunging at the raven haired boy. “The important thing now is to figure out how to help Namjoon-hyung.”

And he’s right. Namjoon has never been very confident or outspoken before, but now it seems like it’s even worse as he won’t even look you in the eye anymore. You swallow back a lump in your throat as you watch him avoid eye contact with the four of you. 

“Come on Joon, let’s get back to the dormitories, you should get some rest,” you place an arm around his shoulders, encouraging him to stand. As he slowly gets back onto his feet, your arms slide down around his waist, and you urge him toward the exits of the classroom. “It’s okay Joonie, I’ll figure it out somehow. Leave it to me.”

He gives you a strained smile, but the feeling of your arm around his waist like this makes his heart skip a beat, and he has even more trouble articulating his words, never mind the stupid curse Jeongguk’s struck him with. “Thanks, I appre-“

Fuck. He’s just choked on his words like an absolute moron, and he wants to run off and bury his head into the sand like those ostriches do whenever they’re in trouble. But you only grace him with your angelic smile, as you mumble the password (fuck, he’s gonna have trouble getting in and out of the dormitories too isn’t he?) to the portrait guarding the Ravenclaw quarters. You walk him all the way to the base of the stairs leading up into the boys’ dorms, and tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.

He’s never been so glad to be tongue-tied before.

*

“So, can anyone solve this problem for me?” Your Ancient Runes teacher gives a half-hearted glance towards the rows and rows of sleepy students, a name already on the tip of her tongue. But when her wizened gaze falls upon the first row and fails to see Kim Namjoon’s hand waving in the air, she does a double take at the class.

Beside you, Namjoon is literally trying not to die in his seat. You watch as he has the problem all worked out on the piece of parchment paper in front of him, and as he struggles to tame the instinct to shoot his hand straight in the air. The rest of the class seems a little perturbed that an answer hasn’t been volunteered by now, and some of the students turn to survey Namjoon with a look of surprise. Namjoon bites his lip in an effort to remain calm.

You okay? You mouth to him, but he’s obviously not.

A tense moment passes before the professor shrugs and writes down the answer on the board, and Namjoon visibly relaxes in his seat. This won’t do, he decides. He needs to do something to physically restrain himself, or he’ll end up making a fool out of himself in front of the whole class, especially you. With a deep breath, he taps you gingerly on the arm to get your attention.

“Hey I know this is weird but… caniholdyourhand?” His words come out in a rush of anxiety and mortification, fully expecting you to scoff at him and change tables. Namjoon realises that he didn’t make himself clear, that it sounds like he’s trying to hit on you, which to be honest, he is, but he doesn’t want to come off as a creep. You look a little confused, and he prays to Merlin that it’s because of the utter strangeness of the sudden request, and not because the thought of holding hands with him physically puts you off.

“So that I won’t raise my hand. When she asks…” His voice trails off, struggling to make his explanation logical given the damn curse. Understanding dawns on your face and you reach to grab his hand, and only then does he realise how small your hands are as compared to his. How is it that he’s been friends with you for almost his whole life and has never noticed this? Maybe from now on he should stop studying books and study you instead.

Your touch alone is enough to make him forget about the anxiety of being called on in class, and when you start absently rubbing circles into his palm, his heartrate speeds up as if he’s a seeker who’s just spotted the snitch in the last 10 minutes of a game. Not that he’s the sporty type, but that’s how he imagines how it would feel like. 

Maybe this curse isn’t so bad after all.

*

“Where are you going? I thought you didn’t have patrols on Wednesdays,” your roommate Nayeon says absently as she reclines on her bunk, twirling her wand in one hand and a strand of hair in the other. 

“Oh, I switched last minute with one of the other Prefects,” you shrug on your robe nonchalantly, thankful for the excuse. “Don’t wait up, I’ll be back late!”

The corridors are deserted, with the occasional stir of the portraits that line it as the light from the tip of your wand illuminates the way. Hastily muttering an apology, you extinguish the light at the sight of the Library, relying solely on memory to guide you the rest of the way. The doors are locked, of course, since it’s after hours now, but that doesn’t stop you as you unlock it with a swish and flick of your wand, and soon you’re making your way to the Restricted Section.

The bookshelves tower over you, and accompanied with the darkness and silence of the Library, it’s enough to instil a sense of urgency in you as you light up your wand again and start searching the section about verbal curses. Just as you pull out the appropriate book and leaf through its dusty pages, struggling with the numerous vines that are entangled over the book’s cover and spine, there’s a faint sound of footsteps from a few rows down.

Your heart is in your throat as you frantically try to flip the pages as quietly as possible until you chance upon the counter-spell that you need, and even more as you try to memorise the complicated incantation even as the footsteps grow nearer and nearer. A vision of getting caught by Filch and his cat spurs you on, and you close the book gently to slide it back into its place on the shelf, but-

“Hey.” It’s an awkward, monosyllabled whisper that can only come from one person.

“For the love of Merlin, Namjoon,” you breathe out, exhaling panic as you bring your lighted wand in between the two of you to make sure that it’s really him. You realise that he can’t even light his wand because of the curse. “How did you get all the way here?” 

His face illuminated by the gentle light of your wand, he shakes his head in answer. Noticing the book in your arms, he gestures towards it. “I was here to… find a cure too. Is this it?”

Up close like this you can see every single feature of his, from the warm caramel of his eyes to the dimples in his cheeks that become more prominent every time he smiles, and even when he speaks. In the narrow aisle of the Restricted Section with him almost pressed up against you, you suddenly become hyperaware of how tall he is, and the way you come up to his chest makes him exude a sense of security you’ve never felt before.

“Yeah, want to do it now? I memorised the incantation already,” you tell him, trying your best not to be distracted by his messy hair that looks as if he just rolled out of bed, and the warmth of his body that chases away the chill of the library. He nods in answer, and you end the illumination spell on your wand, placing a hand on his chest and closing your eyes to help you concentrate.

“Loquela restituet.” There’s a brief, evergreen glow that lights up the tip of your wand for a few seconds, and then it’s gone. You open your eyes to find Namjoon staring at you intensely, his eyes fixed onto yours and you can’t find the strength to look away.

“Did it work?” You whisper breathlessly as his gaze travels down to your lips, and he’s never looked at you like this before. 

“Can I kiss you?” Your heart sinks at his monosyllable answer- it must not have worked, maybe you pronounced something wrongly, maybe it was the wrong spell- but then he moves in closer, and you just want to feel his lips against your own, so you nod.

Namjoon’s lips are soft, and he may seem shy and awkward, but damn does he know how to kiss. He cradles the back of your neck gently with a large hand, and his lips glide over yours in a way that makes your knees weak. There’s a faint taste of pumpkin juice that lingers upon his lips, but it’s the taste of Namjoon himself, that lures you in further and further until you have to pull apart for a gasp of air.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” Namjoon bites his lip as he studies your expression, his hands around your waist holding you close to him. Your eyes widen in shock at his admission, before realising that it worked.

“Namjoon, me too, but wait the spell worked!” You grasp the front of his robes to pull him in closer. “Say something else.”

“Something else,” a smirk plays upon his lips, lips that you just kissed, and you smack him on the chest. Trust Namjoon to be a dork at a moment like this, but a sense of relief pervades you and you relax in his arms.

“You’re a dork.”

“Dork? I prefer idiot, stupid, or bumbling fool,” he whispers into your ear. “Or even better, boyfriend.”

[lodessa]

It’s been a while since I did this

Tagged by@carlynroth

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you like then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gif sets, whatever.

Okay so I set some rules for myself in making this list in an attempt to maybe clear it out a bit to what I’m more likely to write any time soon: I did not allow myself to look at any of my previous lists OR my WIP documents/folders until after I’d made the list (only to add details/links after I’d finalized it).

Star Trek: Voyager - Janeway/Chakotay

Stumbling: Post Endgame Janeway and Chakotay struggle to get back what they once had (trust) even though they both want it.  Basically I really wanted to explore how messy emotions are and a realistic struggle to recover from what happened. I think it’s going to be like 8 chapters, but for all I know it will end up being 14 like Parameters and Voyager High; because, that’s apparently my natural length for drawn out chaptered fics.  Three chapters are currently posted. Chapter four is partly written.  Excerpt: 

“Here’s the thing: She still wants him.  It’s ironic, after all the years he was diligently waiting and she was able to stuff it down and put it aside some ninety something percent of the time Now, now she is so angry with him, so distrustful, but it’s like that pain has wrecked her self control. She can’t come back from the blunt honestly of her despair. When she’d been so secure in him it has been easy to set aside her desire.

Now. Now she feels raw, not just with the sting of his betrayal but also with her own longing.

Now he meets her for long afternoon walks between her meetings and his office hours and she can’t take comfort in his arm linked with her but she can’t ignore it either. His warmth beside her is a provocation, unsettling her.

He brings her a series of peace roses and part of her wants to feel comforted by the gesture but there’s something inside her that balks at any memory of how it used to be.” 

Just Once: Five times Janeway and Chakotay were only going to kiss once (and the time they finally gave that pretense up).  This is really a more drawn out version of “Why Janeway and Chakotay Can't Share the Couch: 5 Times They Slipped Up”   but it’s not like there can ever be enough of that type of fic. Currently I have posted 1 of 6 total chapters, but I do have all of it outlined.

The Greek Mythology AU Epic.  I only have a couple actual paragraphs of this written, but I have a very clear idea of the plot and style.  Basically it’s a homeric style epic, wherein Janeway is the hero and involves a plotline with her going down to the underworld to get Chakotay back.  Very different from my usual style, obviously.  Excerpt:

“You have heard, of course, about the great ship Voyager, and it’s captain: the wise but willful woman king known as Janeway, favored by Athena. The tale of how her ship was blown off course by a powerful storm and ended up in distant waters far from home, how she subdued the outlaw ship she’d been chasing on the other side of the world, won over it’s captain: the noble Chakotay, how together they kept raiders from causing Atlas to drop the world, and thereafter Chakotay and his followers served under her and he became her most trusted subject and against all odds they returned to Greece in seven years and seven days is widely known. 

Less famous, however, is the tale of Janeway’s descent into the Underworld and how she came to prevail upon Hades to undo what his wrathful brother, Poseidon, had done in spite and wounded pride.   Many heroes have gone down to plead with the king of the dead for lost loves, but few are those to emerge again to the sunlight.”

That One Where Chakotay Gets Pegged.  So I have a number of fic ideas involving this (Including a follow up to Happy Accident) but the longest standing one and one I really mean to write in the near future is one where Janeway happens to mention one of the ways she has gotten the upper hand in diplomacy situations with men who want to fuck her  involving a strap on and well... Chakotay can’t get the idea out of his head. 

Daxverse:  After three years of intending to do this AU with Jadzia on Voyager and not actually writing it and @talsi74656 having been in the same situation for a couple, we are seriously exploring joining forces and merging our two different versions into one in hopes of getting it written.  Because, the idea is too good to sit forever unpublished.

Year of Hell PWP: Chakotay offers Kathryn a different kind of birthday present.  Excerpt:

Kathryn felt herself blush deeply at his probably innocently intended question.  She was wound so tightly right now she might explode on impact at the slightest jostling.

Chakotay flushed as well as he realized from her expression what she wasn’t saying.

“Oh…” he pressed his lips together, “I see. No wonder you are having trouble sleeping.”

“Chakotay!” she replied with a scandalized gasp.

“Let me help?” his voice and his expression both were beseeching, “You know you’ll sleep better and that will make you way more productive.  You wouldn’t accept my birthday gift… at least let me do something for you.”

Cracktastic Anthropomorphic Voyager/Janeway/Chakotay Situation: Sentient Voyager takes human form and interacts with its Captain(s) in a variety of ways. Set over the course of the series and post series when Chakotay takes command.  Most likely ends with a threesome.

Post Endgame Angst Where Janeway is Hallucinating: Janeway cracks once the immediacy of all those years of pressure lets up and loses touch with reality.  Feeling abandoned and lost, she hallucinates a Chakotay who is cruel and kind in turns, and by the time the real Chakotay shows up she doesn’t believe he’s actually there.

Timeless Timeline Chakotay/Endgame Timeline Admiral Janeway Fixit AU: Somehow the Admiral goes sideways instead of back and ends up in the averted Timeless timeline. Both of them are so damaged by loss and time in these timelines and I’d love to see them interact. Ultimately, they join forces and go back to save their past/alternative selves from becoming the selves they are then and there.  This started out as a coauthored fic that got abandoned midway through, but I still really love the idea.  Excerpt:

"Well that depends, what year is it and how long have I been dead for." She said it teasingly but the question still felt heavy, "How do you think I died?"

"Are you sure you want me to tell you? I'm not even sure I can." He shook his head, running his hand over his face, suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of seeing Kathryn dead on Voyager's bridge.

"It's important, I think." she sighed, running her fingers through his hair, "Unless you'd rather I tell you."

He wasn't sure what was worse, watching the pain that crossed Kathryn's face when she mentioned his death, or thinking about how hard it would be to relive her death. He couldn't bring himself to cause her more pain than he had to, even if that meant bearing the brunt of it himself.

"It was the slipstream drive..." he said quietly, trying not to go back to that day, "Harry and I went ahead in the Delta Flyer, but we'd miscalculated..."

He could barely get the words out, as the lump formed at the back of his throat. She reached for him, her hand cupping his face.

"All these years, and you still..." He could see her calculating how long it must have been.

"Always." He kissed her softly.

Her hands lingered on his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

"It's an alternate timeline," she said at last, "we never attempted that slipstream flight... Seven," he couldn't help but notice something off in Kathryn's voice as she said the former drone's name, "Seven got a message warning us."

RPF

KM/RB Fic No One Wants That Involves RealTalk(TM) Racism.  Because I feel like this needs to be addressed in terms of KM’s exoticism when it comes to him and also that she only publicly dates white dudes. She looks like a jerk in this one.

Another One No One Asked For: Why Both KM and Braga Got Pissed At RB Really. As JR is added to the cast, RB is upset that KM chose Hagan and decides to get back at her by exploiting somewhere he knows she’s already feeling vulnerable.  He looks like a jerk in this one.

KM Has Zero Sympathy for the Problems RB Created For Himself. Because KM sass is life and seriously CHOICES dude.

KM/RB As a Taurus/Scorpio Dynamic Case Study. Because they are.

Veronica Mars

Balacing Act: Two parts are written. Part 3 of the series is still in progress.  Continued  post movie threesome action with Logan, Weevil, and Veronica. Excerpt:

“I have acquired bagels… and coffee.”

It takes a moment for Eli to remember where he is or how he got there, gradually regaining enough consciousness to register Veronica’s way too chipper voice and remember that it must be Logan’s fucking arm he can feel slung across his hip. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes and there she is, looming over them with a take out tray of coffee cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other, looking cheerful and relaxed, like this is something that happens every day instead of being unprecedented, like she is used to him fucking Echolls up the ass until they both come.

“Enjoying the view from above from once, V?” he teases, refusing to act like this is weird if she isn’t going to.

“Wait… you went all the way to-“ Logan sits up, looking perfectly mussed as he notes the logo on the coffee cups.

This is weird. This is definitely weird, even for them.

That Season 3 AU I Started Around the Time The Movie Came Out: So season 3 was a mess as a whole, but it also always bugged me that Veronica’s “I was wrong not to trust” moment is about Logan (who didn’t deserve her trust and yeah actually his explanation in the end was shitty) and not about her dad (who deserved better than her judgement and criticism) and Weevil (seriously did she really think he’d rip Lilly’s necklace off her).  It’s a lot bigger than that, but basically this AU starts from there and has Weevil be the one to find her in the parking garage instead of Logan and goes from there. I need to finish it because it’s important, even if it’s a dead fandom. Excerpt:

“Would now be an appropriate time for me to list the reasons why you shouldn’t even be wasting your time with that spoiled gringo asshole?”

Weevil knew that was never going to be a productive addition to any conversation with her.  She had some mad feelings about Logan Echolls, every bit as much as Lilly had.  He didn’t think about Lilly so much these days, but sitting in Veronica’s car talking about whether Logan was a bad boyfriend was bringing the memories back.

She must have noticed the parallel too; because she said, “Is that what you told Lilly?”

They had never talked about Lilly.  Whenever possible she stuck to cases, favors, and harmless flirtatious banter that he knew didn’t mean anything at all. They avoided talking about Logan, but this - this was taboo.  And Weevil doesn’t know what to feel about that.

And what the hell is Veronica thinking, anyway?  Maybe it was the lingering effects of the drugs.  What the docs call trauma?  He hasn’t got a freaking clue .  All he knows is that Veronica Mars had bought up the girl whose ghost seemed to have more life than most of the people walking around Neptune. And he doesn’t like to say no to Veronica Mars.

“Sometimes I think it was what she wanted me to do.” He answered, deciding to pursue this line of potential honesty, “It was probably just a way to stroke her ego.   It’s not like I don’t get that, but she sure did like to paint a picture to me about how unhappy she was with him…”

“You and me both.” Veronica replied, gaze fixed away from him. “What were you supposed to tell her?  That she could do so much better?”

Sometimes these days he almost forgot that Veronica had been Lilly’s best friend, that she told her everything that really mattered.  Of course, that meant that he didn’t really matter.  He had always known that, even when he maybe wanted to believe otherwise, but there is maybe a small part of him that wanted to hold on to the idea that maybe he did.  

“Is that what you would tell me? If I said yes… If I asked you to tell me why I shouldn’t be with Logan?” Veronica turned around sharply to look him in the eyes.

“Pretty sure it would be a better option than giving you the spiel I gave her, the one that goes something like ‘I’d never let you feel alone’ and ‘Just let me show you how much better it can be.’ You know, that kind of crap.”

It was his turn to stare out the windshield, away from her.  Normally he would make a joke out of it, wink and suggest that maybe she wanted that all along, for him to profess his undying love, but not now.  They were both too raw.

“Tell you what.  If I ever do decide I want you to talk me out of dating Logan, I’ll let you know which version of the speech I’m looking for.”

“Deal.”  He agreed.  He knew they would never have that conversation, or at least not that version of it. That was what Lilly wanted to hear - she got  off  on hearing how much he wanted her. But Veronica wasn’t Lilly. She liked having leverage of a different kind.  Getting the better of someone.  Oneupsmanship . Veronica wasn’t interested in the straight power of someone finding her desirable, even if she used it to her advantage if she felt it was needed.

A Song of Ice and Fire (really not Game of Thrones)

Jaime/Brienne Adventure Romance:  Because this ship deserves a long plotty romance novel and I wasn’t ready to write that kind of thing in 2008 when I stopped writing them but I am now.  Definitely book and not show universe.  Jaime and Brienne go looking for Arya across Essos.  Excerpt:

“Indeed father.  He does know me.  Do you not recognize Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer?”

Brienne waited for Jaime to respond to the barb, but he did not. Her father looked surprised, doubtless he had expected Brienne’s visitor to be of less consequence. She could see him going over Jaime’s features and attire, as if putting the pieces together.

“It is an honor Ser. We so rarely get such important visitors here on our humble island.”

“Doubtless, Ser Jaime is here for his reward.”

“Reward?” Lord Selwyn looked, if possible, more perplexed.

“For saving my life, father.  Surely you will satisfy him.”

“He… he saved your life?”  

“Yes, when I was in the bear pit at Harrenhal. Really father, you’d think you didn’t listen to a word I said about my travels.”

Her father was indeed no longer listening to her.  Doubtless he was busy concocting some heroic version of her rescue that would culminate in his at long last marrying off his daughter.  Brienne was sure that’s what he thought the outcome of this visit would be, though he must have known Jaime was part of the Kingsguard.

At last Jaime spoke, “You mistake me, my lady.  I came seeking no reward.”

“Surely Ser, you came for something.”

“I came to see you, Brienne, for there are things I wish to discuss with you.  That is all.”

“You might have sent a letter.”

“Perhaps, but it I did not.  Will you walk with me?  While I am here I was hoping to witness the splendor of the Sapphire Isle.”

Jon/Sansa Fake!Married Trope:  Also definitely book!verse.  Following Danaerys’ reconquest, both remaining Starks attempt to leave Westeros without attention.  They run into each other. Excerpt:

She was undeniably lovely, with creamy skin and blue eyes he hadn't seen the like of since he left Winterfell.  She stared at Ghost in surprise, but not in fear.  Indeed she seemed transfixed by the direwolf as she reached her hands out to him and Ghost nuzzled his head against her.  Jon was amazed; he did not think she had noticed his own approach, she seemed so distracted.  

“It can't be.” She murmured to the direwolf, “But there is no mistaking you.  How did you get so far?”

Jon was unsure of how to alert her to his presence without startling her, yet it seemed rude just to stand here.

“They are all gone now, aren't they? Lady, and Nymeria, and Summer, and Greywind, and even Shaggydog.  Is he gone too Ghost, is that why you've found me?”

The woman sounded close to tears, and stranger yet she'd known. She had known not only Ghost but all the rest of the direwolf pups.  Realization dawned on Jon and he recognized Sansa, although his half sister had grown from a pretty child to a beautiful woman since he'd last seen her.  He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his mouth as he watched her fling her arms around the direwolf with a sob.

Crossovers

Restoration: Dresden Files/Revolution NBC, coauthored with @jaqofspades.  Miles Matheson doesn’t remember he’s a wizard, not that it matters with all the magic gone after the blackout.  Dark twisty multishipping with every kind of delicious wrong.  We need to get back on writing this eventually. 

Tagging: @talsi74656, @jaqofspades, @joyful-voyager, @sophia-helix, and @starfleet-vs-maquis if you guys want.

ETA: Oh I forgot one my favorite current projects!

That Massive 24th Century Trek Series Crossover AU: Which is a follow up to The Smallest Twine, in which certain details of the Cardassian Treaty get leaked before it is signed and the Federation is very nearly plunged into civil war.  It continues to explore the J/C relationship from the first story in the AU but also features a lot of our favorites from TNG and DS9 as well as more of the VOY characters.

[ylizam]

for the fic title meme: The Last Condition of Sainthood.

[The Last Condition of Sainthood], Sunset Boulevard, Betty/Connie

There was something about the way the headlights sliced right through the air that night, cutting through the black so quickly you could blink and miss any hint that light ever existed. Connie and I made it halfway home before I stopped crying, face sore and eyes burning with it. So sick with it that I told her to pull over, now, quick, so I could spill out of the passenger door and fall onto the pavement. Gravel cutting into my knees as I lost my last three meals along the side of the road.

Connie left the car running so we could squint by the cloud of light puffing out in front of it like cigarette smoke. Climbed out after me, cars whizzing by without even slowing, to hold my hair away from my face and whisper to me that Joe was never any good, that he never deserved me, that I’d been confused but now could see things straight. Her fingers running through my hair softer and more gentle than I deserved.

“Shh,” Connie said. “That jerk tried to play you like he’s playing that old lady, but it’s all going to be fine now. You and Artie’ll get married and have the most pretty little babies, you’ll see.”

My head was spinning. Dizzy with indecision and guilt, like I didn’t deserve to feel betrayed. But I did feel betrayed. And broken-hearted, shattered; I half-wished for a car to swerve and run me over until I looked like I felt on the inside. There was nothing left in my stomach, but that didn’t stop it from trying to punch something else out of me. I wretched some more. A car horn bleated on its way past.

I tried to explain why Connie was wrong, but nothing like sense came out. Maybe I’d lost the ability to string together words, to put together the plot and make it sing. Maybe that was my punishment.

*

They sure were singing it all over Schwab’s: Joe was dead, floating in a swimming pool all lit up like something out of a picture. Killed by the crazy old silent movie queen he’d been selling himself to for months. Maybe he’d written the story himself, sold it to Paramount between nights spent in her creaky arms.

“Did you know?” Voices coming from every direction. “Did you know?”

I stuffed the last couple bites of sandwich into my mouth. Ignored the stares and whispers, pretended I didn’t hear Artie’s name mixed in with the whole mess. Stood up. Walked out with my head held high. The ground below me shaking like an earthquake.

*

“As day breaks over the murder house, Norma Desmond, famous star of yesteryear, is in a state of complete mental shock,” Connie said. I couldn’t focus on the type of Hedda Hopper’s column, so Connie was reading it out to me. I grabbed another dress and tried to squeeze it into my suitcase. Didn’t even bother folding it; there were irons in Arizona, or so I’d been told. There were all sorts of things in Arizona.

I tuned out the words and focused on Connie’s voice. She was putting a little drama into it, acting it out like I was filming her for a screen test. It didn’t make Joe any less dead. Didn’t make me any less confused. I’d telephoned Artie a few hours earlier, “Surprise, let’s get married this weekend!”, and had a few swallows of something deadly and sweet before starting to pack.

“You should come with me,” I said. The idea bubbled through me, fizzing and popping. I felt the sudden urge to stand up and dance, to twirl until the world rebuilt itself around me.

Connie was mid-sentence, mid-soliloquy, and the newspaper rattled in her hands. She folded the paper. Put it down on the floor next to her tapping foot. “You know I can’t,” she said. A hint of white teeth against the red of her lipstick, and then the full shiny whole of her smile as sudden as a Los Angeles rainstorm. “This palace of ours isn’t free, and just because you’re running off to live happily ever after doesn’t mean I don’t have to pay the rent next month.”

The telephone rang. My hand twitched, a short spark of electricity running from my wrist to the tips of my fingers. The telephone kept ringing. Ringing and ringing and ringing, echoing in my head. Connie stood. Walked over to answer it.

The upstairs neighbor dragged something across her floor. A long screech and rat-a-tat thumps. Footsteps and laughter.

“It’s for you,” Connie yelled. “Someone from Paramount.”

*

It felt wrong. Fingers smudging ink across the paper, a sharp moment of foreboding when an edge caught my thumb. I sucked my thumb into my mouth. Hissed at the sting.

The screenplay was just about finished–I was tinkering, really, rewriting everything DeMille wanted changed before shooting started–and I wanted it perfect. Wanted it to make Joe’s death worth it, somehow. Some way.

I licked a finger, tried to blot out the speck of blood near the corner of the page. Studied the way my handwriting danced around the typewritten words, let them blur together into stars and clouds as I stared. I could just about hear Joe’s voice telling me his opinion on my changes.

“No,” he’d say. “That’s not–”

I shook my head. Shook Joe right out of my brain and settled down to fix one last line of dialogue before heading home. The sun was coming up outside my office door. I could feel it, wrapping around me like a cloak.

*

Connie was rolling her stocking up, right leg perched on the bed. I stood in the doorway. She bit her lower lip, teeth white against tomato red. My entire body felt like it was stuck in tar – heavy and sinking to the center of the earth.

“Good morning,” Connie said. She lifted her foot from the bed and sat down on the edge. I could just make out the outline of her toes in her stockings, echoes of color where I knew her nails were painted bright.

“Good night, more like,” I answered.

I forced my legs to wade across the room. Sat down next to Connie as she buckled her shoes. She felt warm next to me, and alive. I felt cold and stiff and so tired I might crack open right there. Dried blood flaking out all over the floor, sharp and deadly.

“Artie called again,” Connie said.

I leaned closer. Rested my head against Connie’s shoulder, felt her fingers tracing questions against my scalp. I’d been putting Artie off ever since I stood him up at the wedding I was pretty sure we were never going to have. “I’ll talk to him soon,” I promised.

“Good girl,” she said. She kissed the crown of my head. Her voice felt warm, like drinking hot cocoa and letting it heat me from the inside out. Even my toes tingled.

I felt like I could live right there, in that moment, closed curtains and the buzzing overhead light and Connie sitting next to me on that bed.

*

I finished the screenplay in one year-long day, fueled by coffee and cigarettes and the taste of ink when I licked my fingers.

By the end of it, I couldn’t tell what was up and what was down. I couldn’t tell you my own name. I sealed that final draft up in an envelope and sent it out into production.

“Come on,” Connie said.

I blinked. Stood. The room swayed around me, everything going in and out of focus like some sort of trick of the camera. Connie was by my side just as my knees started to give out, arms around my waist and reminding me to breathe.

“I am,” I said. I was, after all: inhaling, exhaling, all of it. Connie laughed. Kissed my temple.

“Aren’t we all,” she said.

I kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth – she flinched, and we stumbled like drunken sailors on leave. My back hit a wall with enough force to bruise and her mouth was back on mine, waxy lipstick and dueling noses and my stomach flying its way out of my body.

A crash just outside the unlocked door. We pushed apart, hands straightening skirts and re-tucking our blouses. Connie’s cheeks were flushed, and her lipstick smudged beyond repair. I smiled. Wiped my own lips with the back of my hand and tried to remember how to walk.

*

Joe’s name was splashed as big as they could make it, spotlights aimed so no one could miss the tragic story. My name was smaller, practically a whisper, but still there.

Not to mention I was the only one of us to get paid. Cold hard cash did a lot to make up for a name you had to squint to read, and an order for a second script by Joe and me did the rest of the work on that score.

“You gonna move into a big mansion now and forget all about me?” Connie asked, her voice striving for a joke but falling slightly flat. Her body was soft and secure against my back. Her arms warmer than our heaviest blanket.

“Of course,” I said. I’d be lucky to afford a small bungalow in a bad part of town: a step up from this place, but nothing fancy. No swimming pools and butlers for me, which was probably for the best.

I twisted my neck around to kiss her, brushed my lips against her chin. Licked a line up her cheek so I could feel her giggle up and down my body.

She rolled onto her back. Pulling me on top of her, breast to breast and no air between us. Outside car horns blared. The skies opened: angry Los Angeles rain pelting against our room’s lonely window.

[ashensoul1995]

Memories

Reality is one of those strange things you can never quite define in words. I have so many but they always fall short and leave me clasping at the faded memories in a dumb stupor. It is 2:30am. It has been four whole very long and hard years for me. Years that have torn me apart in so many more ways than I can say. I stopped using all the pills and potions, you would be happy to know I found someone who defines what I once imagined. You told me to never stop. And so here I am. I was asked to try to rewrite the happiest moment in my life. Some type of written article. I know you would be teasing me in that annoyingly pompous and sarcastic way of yours, everything you would do to make sure I was standing upright and never gave up.

So here goes to the most amazing, remarkable person I will ever know. Not for pity but I want to thank you for helping me see all these things and laugh until I ached and wanted to kill you or see the beauty in stupid little things like the rain.

I hold your memories close.

I felt like an awkward mannequin as I turned to face my reflection; the awkwardly tall and gangly girl with crazy black hair and skin the colour of a very faded tea stain of thick paper. My eyes were carefully outlined, the light brown full of things that confused me. So I turned away from them, my eyes trailing over the funny long and thin neck attached to broad and bones shoulders. The belt right around my waist, making me feel huge but also painfully aware of how…comically small my waist looked. My goofy long legs covered in black tights varnished in lace heeled boots that made me seem even more funnily taller than I was beforehand. The black and green interwoven lace looked like feathers held closely in place and covering as much of my skin as possible.

And I was nervous. Very nervous. Almost as nervous as I am sure Jude would have been feeling as a bride. She would look extraordinary.

The rap on the door made me start slightly and turn around as gracefully as I could manage without throwing myself off my own feet.

I had forgotten how tall he was.

Tall and elegantly gangly or ‘delicate, fragile and skinny’. The black tuxedo accentuated the broad build of his shoulders but also the strong but narrow waist leading to endless legs that he had entirely covered in countless colourful tattoos that told countless interwoven stories. There was one for every memory and moment, all trapped on his pale skin. The tuxedo hid them. It also hid how he had lost so much weight that he was just muscle and bone and skin. Somehow he looked good. In a delicate and China-doll way accentuated by the sharpness of his cheekbones and his hollowed cheeks that somehow added to his androgynous gracefulness. His full lips, badly bitten as was expected; pecked at due to what I assumed was as much nervousness as I was feeling were stained purple by the same sickness that probably surged through his polluted veins. His badly tousled, dark hair seemed more tousled than usual, but what really killed me was the look in his eyes.

The big, wide, crazy green eyes fringed by ridiculously long eyelashes that I laughed at would look great in a false lash advertisement. He looked scared. But there was something else. Something unsettlingly overwhelming that made my knees want to give way as he stared directly at me.

“Well…we should…”

He saw my holding the black velvet bow tie I had made; covering it in intricately patterned, very delicate sequins and golden patterns. He always said it was the best thing he had ever owned. He watched me hold it bemusedly, one eyebrow slightly raised in his annoyingly false air of pompousness.

“Can’t reach?” He teased; voice a mix of soft and smooth highs and lows drawn out in even deepness and softness that always made me think of something safe and warm. I walked up and stepped on his toes, ignoring the fact that he pulled a strained face as I looked up at him and realised he was stupidly tall and I was the one feeling like a strange little child-doll-being.

“You might want to bend down a bit you big brute!” I mock grumbled. “Or I might just forcefully drag you down to my height and break more than just your toes.”

He bent over.

I almost swayed and fell back, taken aback by how close his face was to mine.

He smelt nice. A scent I could only ever associate with him that always stayed everywhere he went and in everything he touched like a memory. Something he left behind to remind everyone he had been there. It was something almost aquatic and minty, fresh with a nut or coffee undertone and a hint of something wild and piney; earthy and reminiscent of treks into dark forests.

I pretended not to notice him watching me though my face was aflame as I shakily tied the bow tie in place before stepping back, unable to stop the smile that slipped into my face.

His stony, bored expression no longer dissuading or overwhelming me after so many years seeing him fake it. “You have a funny look on your face. I have a terrible feeling you have managed to stitch something into the tie…”

“Oh I have!” I was struggling to contain my smile. “It says Kick Me I’m A Total Arse.”

His smile was worth it; the sweet creases appearing around his mouth, and his dimples. “Right then…we should probably go.”

I swallowed nervously. “Why are we doing this? And why aren’t you taking Pipa…” I almost squeaked as he put an arm around my waist, and I found myself not holding my breath. And everything else. Because it seemed perfectly normal. And my legs wanted me to slump into him though I struggled to stay graceful as he walked me out and I forgot the world existed. “If you dare do anything stupid, I’m leaving you…with all of your ex girlfriends and everyone else.”

He rolled his eyes but kept walking. “I have no idea why I agreed to this.”

“Jude is ONLY getting married because you made her!”

“Yes well..Thierry was doing my head in so I may as well officiate the fact that they’re at it like bunnies!”

I considered hitting him. Then thought against it when he tipped me slightly just for fun and I almost squealed, realising I was totally helpless. He was smiling. And probably the only reason I was walking upright. “She’s your twin sister!”

“Really?” He helped me into the car first. “I thought I was her twin brother actually.”

“I’m so scared!” Jude was shaking, dressed in a striking white dress that draped over her shoulders and covered her hourglass figure and very long legs like it had been stitched onto her pale bronze skin from a tan she had picked up from somewhere. Her dark hair was intricately arranged into curled roses that looked almost like a crown or hat on her head. She had a pearl necklace on with pearl earrings and her make up accentuated the sweet greenness of her cat-like eyes and her delicate bone structure.

Sean smiled at her. She was six feet tall, shorter than his six feet and five inches but in her heels she seemed almost as tall as him and they made me think of surreally beautiful statues. “You’ll be fine..” he assured her as she forgot where her bouquet was because he had cheekily been holding it all along.

She grumbled at him and I realised she reminded me of a young Carla Bruni but with sharper and more delicate features. “You’re so fucking snobby I’m amazed you made it this far-!” She snatched it off him, ready to hit him with it.

He froze, leaning back and away from her slightly, one eyebrow cocked at her.

She smiled, sweetly, and then strangely brokenly before just about leaping against him, throwing her arms around him and holding onto him as though he was the only thing she knew.

He made a fake annoyed sound before hugging her back, smiling at her. “Ok you’re really embarrassing me now-“ he made to jerk his head away from her as she tried to kiss his cheek, arching his neck until she finally, forcefully grabbed his cheek and kissed him so hard she stained his cheek crimson. “Oh great…” he grumbled.

She chuckled sweetly as he made to rub it off. “It looks like someone cut themselves on your cheekbone.” She watched him rub at it tenderly until it came off, eyes bright. “God Sean look at you! Dad would have been so so happy to see you!” She pretty much collapsed against him again.

“Ah no..wait…stop!” He made to hold her back. “Hey you can’t cry your make up off…I have to walk you down the aisle yet…no…no stop..look…oh shit that’s our cue..” he looked at me and the other bridesmaids who tittered at him shyly.

We managed to get into order. Following them down an aisle flanked by men and women in pompous clothes far too expensive to be comfortable. All eyes were on Jude and on Sean. It seemed everyone was crying at one point and I wondered what would happen if their dad and dad brothers had been there too. I could almost picture them though I had never known them.

Jude probably cried more than I have ever known anyone to cry when Sean and Thierry played her a spine chilling piano and cello version of one of her favourite songs and had possibly cried off her face by the time Sean had danced specially for her. I think it helped in that sense having a professional dancer in the family. For whatever reason he had really put a lot of thought into every single thing he was doing. It was easy to forget he was really sick and struggling.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He was suddenly towering over me. I realised I had been walking in a funny line away from everyone else. “Um…” I frowned helplessly up at him. “Jude wants to dance with me and you.” “I have two left feet and know nothing about dancing! I’m barely capable of walking upright!” I squawked as he dragged me over to where Jude was waiting and made sure to stand on the other side of me. “Look I can-“ Jude’s smile melted me before the music got to me. “Come on…this song is so you…in a way…and we don’t even have to dance properly because who gives a shit…Alisha you mean so much and you look so pretty and I want you to be here…” I turned and saw Sean’s teeth as he smiled broadly. “What do I have to do?” “Just keep moving,” he assured me. “Or just copy Jude. She hardly knows what dancing is but she wants this…with you…or with us…she wants to embarrass us in front of total strangers…I warn you she might poke your eye out…” Jude had started singing a very off tune and off key version of Rebel Rebel that turned everyone around us into a meaningless blur. Sean joined in with her dancing, copying her hilarious moves that involved a lot of head shaking and moving her arms and legs, though he knew how to dance better than anyone I knew. I smirked, watching them and closed my eyes. “If anyone asks what I’m doing…” “We’re being forced to dance in the style of Jude who has threatened the to flog us if we don’t.” I burst out laughing and let myself disperse awkwardly into the music.

“We ordered two beds.” Sean frowned at the bell boy who looked like he was about to start running in the opposite direction or crying. I realised Sean looked so much taller than the normal human and found myself loping an arm around him, smiling at the bell boy. He focused on me, unblinkingly. “I’m so..sorry ma’am…sir…ma’am…” “Oh it’s fine!” I assured him as he opened the door and stepped back.

I would have probably fallen in head first if Sean had not kept an arm around me. He nodded curtly at the bell boy and pretty much bolted before slamming the door behind him as I toppled onto my back on the bed and smiled up at him with no real idea what I was doing.

“Hi Sean!!!” I slurred, “why so gwumpy grumpy man?” I poked him with the toes of one of my boots. He looked far too good in a tuxedo. He gave me a strange look which made me realise I had said that out loud. I swore. “I’m not crazy ok?” He just smiled at me. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with one single bed…” “I promise I don’t kick. Or bite. Or punch..” “What about when we went to Turkey and I couldn’t sleep because you kicked me so hard in the back that I almost couldn’t move…or when I woke up to you trying to climb up the wall whining like a puppy…or when you screamed and tried to slap me?” “But I did slap you!” I sloppily jumped up and pouted at him. “I’m not bad. You’re the one who wears TIGHTS to bed!!! PROPER STOCKINGED TIGHTS!” I looked around us and ran for the window, yanking it open and almost screaming when the cold wind hit my face and widened my eyes, suddenly sobering me. “Shit…I thought you were about to jump.” He had helplessly grabbed one of my hands and I was staring wide eyed at London that looked more like jewels staining a velvet cloth. I turned to him. The moonlight made his pale skin shine and his eyes looked creepily light. I focused on the bow tie. “Um….” “Are you ok?” He asked anxiously. “I was going to scream Sean sleeps in stockings out of the window.” He looked amused. “I’m glad you didn’t.” “I’m not crazy.” He was staring at me silently. Green eyes slowly killing me. “Ok.” I realised how nice his mouth looked. He suddenly turned away from me, facing the bed. “We should get changed and try to sleep…” I watched the tense hunch of his shoulders. “Ok.” “Ok.”

And then we had somehow ended up in a strangely sprawled heap and tangle of long legs (covered in black stockings under his boxer shorts in his case because he was cold and because as a dancer his legs, despite being a lot skinnier than usual looked strangely Iike legs I wanted to do a lot of strange things I should never even be thinking of to. He had pulled on a black shirt as though he had to cover as much of his skin as was possible. I felt strangely bare in just a t-shirt and shorts. And would have been cold if I had not been lying so close to him. It felt strangely normal and alright to be so close to him, tucked up against his very long, elegant, lean and lithe form that felt comfortingly hard, warm and SOLID as well as real. His eyes looked like ghosty glass, his eyelashes like flames as a street lamp speckled him through a curtain.

He was staring straight ahead of him. I watched him. “What are you thinking about?” He finally looked at me, eyes haunted and making me feel strangely cold. “A lot of things.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You sure the voices aren’t-“ He shook his head. “I can’t hear or see anything for a bit..” he sighed. “Are you sure? You look like you’re worried about something.” He shook his head slowly and then looked down. “Im just thinking, about everything. And about the fact that there’s actually no such thing as normal for me.” “What do you mean?” He sighed heavily. “I’ve already been accused of rape and murder.” “And charges were dropped when they realised you were actually a victim and that the nurse who was found dead was killed by another nurse who was trying to hurt you. And that you pretty much saved or tried to save the nurse who was raped and who died.” He shrugged. “I was still criminally insane for some time.” “Aren’t you always though?” I teased. “Well I will be…that’s what schizophrenia does. It’s..already pretty bad and is only getting worse…over time…it isn’t easy trying to ignore….everything that I hear and see all the time…like now but now they’re all quiet and strangely not here….I’m just…look…Alisha…I’m bulimic too and already, because of me…you have addictions..you have an unhealthy idea about body image…you’ve seen me rip myself open on countless occasions…and be uncontrollable…it isn’t the best way for you to be….it’s torture..and if I live that long…I’ll be senile by the time I’m fifty…imagine that. Having to…do things for me…this…isn’t a life-“ “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say?” “I don’t want to one day have to have you be responsible for me and for the simple things I should be able to do…but I…CAN’T do…I…see you and I see how you’ve..seen me at my very worst and I’m only going to get worse and a lot mor dangerous as time goes on and I can't…BEAR to have you see me…like this…” I realised his voice sounded like shards of broken glassy pain were stuck in his throat. “I don't…understand Sean…” “I…please listen ok?” He had hung his head. “I…I’m going to..end this.” I blinked dumbly. “I…I’m talking to some people and they think I can and I’m going to try to have it all sorted out so I can end this before I become even more of a burden than I am. I don’t WANT…this life…this isn’t a fucking life it’s…a DEATH sentence.” I realised my eyes were on fire and he was a funny shimmery blur. “You…you aren't…a bad thing and…why…Sean I know…what you have wanted to do…and…you can't…you’ve talked so many…people out of suicide including myself…” I was struggling to speak but I felt like I was being drowned in something dark and cold that was poking a hole through my chest. My arms draped awkwardly around his neck as though tugging him close enough so that we were almost nose to nose was going to somehow save him from these stupid thoughts. “You are the bravest person I know..the best person I know…I’m only who I am because of you, because you made me who I am and without you I would be no one…and I need you here..” He shook his head but I was stupidly blinded by hit tears that struck my face like heavy, hot plastic discs. “No Little One…no..you don’t NEED me, you don’t need anyone. You are who you are solely because of yourself ok? This is you and you are….beautiful and incredible and….” He clenched his jaw. “You have no idea how important you are to me or….how MUCH you mean to me and…it…it feels so stupid me saying this and you’re just a kid and damn….I can’t live knowing I can never give you the whole life you need and deserve…that no matter what happens one day you're…going to hate this and hate me and hate the impact I have had on you…how you life has become a mess because of me..” I was crying too hard to actually hear him anymore. “See…I did this to you..even now..even after all of it…this isn’t right ok? As much as….in another life it could have been none of this should have even happened. I should have pushed you away that first day…but God you…” His voice cracked, “look at me.” I shook my head, unable to actually look up. “Please.” The urgency in his voice ripped at my heart. “Look at me please so I can see your eyes….” I forced myself to lift my head. He might have been crying but I could hardly see him properly. “Ever since that first day when I saw you..you're…crazy hair and your heartbreaking eyes…your dark clothes..the way your nose turns pink when you’re tired and…the way you laugh….these simple things they mean so much to me and I’m too selfish to know that one day I won’t be hearing them anymore…I can’t…” “You’re so damn selfish!” I was suddenly shoving at him, startling us both through the tears burning my face, “you’re the most SELFISH person I have ever ever known and I can’t believe that I listened to your stupid lies about why I should stay alive when you don’t even BELIEVE in staying alive. I wish I had never EVER met you.” My hands were curled into balls over my pounding heart as I blindly sprang off the bed and started grabbing my things. “Little One wait…” I grabbed my bag and ignored his voice desperately dragging me back. “Please…you have to…” I slammed the door shut so hard behind me that I felt it rattle me, or maybe that was the pain and the sadness that had totally swallowed me.