#like i never get this kind of motivation when i'm writing the first draft i have to convince myself to do other things rn

[grinchwrapsupreme]

discovering that my favourite part of writing a novel is editing it like what the hell is my problem

[kaelie-quill]

Writeblr Intro

This feels super awkward to do but I'm putting myself out there for better or worse, so! I go by Kaelie on here, I am 22, Queer, and go by she/her pronouns. I've been on writeblr on and off since I was maybe fifteen but haven't touched it in four years. I am now 22 and for most of those four years I have been plagued by my current WIP, currently called Project Genesis. I've only just recently forced myself to really sit and try to get it out of my head.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit that the only book I ever finished was a warrior cats fan fiction I wrote when I was twelve (It was like forty chapters, I wrote it by hand in a notebook and I let someone take it home and read it one time and it haunts me) Everything since then has either been abandoned and never even made it out of the planning stage.

For the last four years I've been super stressed and in a super bad mental state and had no time to truly sit and try to write anything and if I did I thought it was absolute trash and it kinda made me hate writing. I even stopped reading despite being obsessed with books from the moment I could read, but in the last year and a half I have rediscovered my love for reading and now I want to try writing again.

Project Genesis is meant to be a multi-book high fantasy series with horror elements (maybe, I've not read many horror books and have little experience writing it. Any tips on writing horror, or good horror books to read would be much appreciated) It's got alternating POVs, basically everybody is queer, lots of religious imagery (maybe only if you squint, but I swear sometimes I feel like I'm just ripping off the Bible)

Despite existing for almost for almost four years its hard to describe what it's actually about? The first book at least is a dual POV about one character denying and running from their destiny to avoid becoming a sacrificial lamb, and another character trying to carve out a destiny for himself when he's not meant to have one (not in a 'he's supposed to be dead' way but in a 'you're life isn't supposed to have any affect on the world' kinda way)

It is currently in early planning stages, I'm working on a zero draft and outline before really hunkering down to try a first draft. I don't know how this is gonna go as far as like updates? I'm really just kinda using this as motivation, like if I talk about and say I'm doing it I can keep myself accountable and not just drift away from this like so many others. I expect it to all be horrible but so long as it's something I can go back and make it better. Thanks for reading! 👋🏻

[trensu]

do you think you'll put "Stasis in darkness" on AO3 eventually?

see, when the idea first came to me, I hadn't really planned on doing anything with it because I wasn't sure if I could make it work. there's a level of gravitas in the relationship between a god and their devoted servant that I didn't think would translate well to steddie because, let's be real, those boys are goofy dorks. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I typed up the original post in an attempt to work it out of my system and move on.

(the post kind of blew up, which I was not expecting at all!! like, not even a little bit! i post all sorts of rough little ideas for my own amusement and I've been able to do that without drawing much attention until that point.)

Anyway, I wouldn't have done much with it but @acowardinmordor left some comments/tags/what have you that helped me nail down the setting in my head which really opened the door for me to explore how the story could progress. (apologies, strife, I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you for that burst of inspiration, so please accept this shoutout as an expression of gratitude). And the amazing @ent-is-indecisive allowed me to rant about it which really helped flesh out the story. Seriously, there are elements and lore coming up that would not have existed if it weren't for ent. (and thank you once again ent for the ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL fanart you made for the reveal scene, I'm still overcome with joy whenever I think about it!).

Once it got to that point, I knew I wanted it to be a self-contained story and I was afraid that if I did a multi-chapter fic I'd lose the thread and never make it to the ending I want the fic to have. (no, the end scene hasn't been written yet but I KNOW what it's going to be and I hope everyone will love it as much as i do). So I promised myself that I was not going to post it on ao3 until the whole thing was written out completely.

However, I occasionally need a confidence/motivation boost so I've been posting consecutive parts of the rough draft here. you have no idea how much the people who reblogged with tags or left comments have helped me fight off the discouragement my brain likes to bog me down with; off the top of my head, @godsweakestboy , @redfreckledwolf, @fuctacles , @spectrum-spectre , and @lawrencebshoggoth have given me lovely, enthusiastic words of encouragement. and they're only the ones I can think of at this moment. there's so many other people who've done this, so if you've ever left me nice tags or comments, please know that I've read every single one of them repeatedly whenever I need to get over a slump. I'm so grateful for all of you!

Anyway, all this is to say yes! It is going to be posted as a oneshot on ao3 once I've finished writing it. <3

[dustydaddyyy]

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter. 

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.   

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you. 

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk. 

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny," 

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. 

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.  

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace. 

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese," 

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless. 

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit," 

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.  

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?" 

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why," 

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter.  "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.  

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.  

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.    

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.  

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.  

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"  

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him. 

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends," 

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly. 

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off.  She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual," 

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"  

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch. 

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face. 

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"   

[whatevertheweather]

Hi hello. I miss y'all. That is my own fault but it's still true, and I'm writing this on saturday night and feeling maudlin about how wonderful and talented and dear this fandom is and how I never join in anymore, so I'm making my little post okay.

I'm going with Musical Chairs again because it's so far past time for that to be done. And I've said this before, but it is approaching done. And I'm gonna get into that, but it'll all be behind the scenes rambling, so it's below the cut, and for those who don't want to delve that far, here is some freshly written Penny POV.

“Ah,” Shepard smiled, “a good deed wasn’t motive enough on its own?” “Not when it’s for a stupid reason.” “What is your un-stupid reason?” “Un-stupid?” Penny repeated. She turned resolutely to her drink. “Nevermind. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” “Hey now,” Shepard said, ducking into her line of sight. “You struck me as someone who prefers being honest.” It was a job not to smile at that, but Penny put the work in.

Now for the mess.

It's a good mess I think. I have a new section in my miscellany document, tucked in between nine (9) sections of ramblings and cut scenes, and the new section is called "we got it this time boys," and I think it's right. I've written a full draft of the scene that's been holding us all back. It's there in its entirety, it just needs to be edited. And I'm so scared to reread it, because every time I think I got this scene right I come back and it's wrong. Which I've decided to be fine with, because so what!!! So what if I got 36k right and there's 5k that doesn't quite hit the way I want it to!!! The earth will keep spinning!!!

Anyway, "we got it this time boys" is 3 pages of what is technically kind of an outline for 5 pages of story, and every time I read the header it's in the voice of someone from some black-and-white hardboiled detective noir, which brings me the joy that might be the only reason I feel I've gotten it right in the first place. The outline is all written about as cohesively as it starts:

I think maybe, and gosh haven’t I said this a million times, I just need to stop trying to go that way. Stop trying to go any way. Like always “how do I get them to this moment” instead of “what would they do in this situation.” Unfortunately, the latter requires I connect with them on a level I’m not sure I can right now. But I guess let’s try. Actually let’s go for a walk, I can see the sun setting on the top of the house across the way and it’s lovely. Okay nice, it was lovely. Relaxing, refreshing. Saw a stump that looked like a beaver. Saw a cat. Thought of the opening to something I’m never going to write. So anyway,

It also sort of ends with:

Oh shit came up on an obstacle immediately. [Redacted]. This does not actually open the door for Baz to say something that can incite “[Redacted].” Fuck god okay whoops already going completely back on all I’ve decided and thinking maybe we could keep some of the new exchange I’d written, maybe he does reveal the ugh no stop I hate this. Just figure out a transition to bring in [...], what would Baz say to that other than what I’ve written him saying to that which doesn’t work for what I’m trying to do. I guess it could just be, like…he murmurs incorrigible. Or something. With a raised brow, a la baz. Sure let’s do that, however, I’ve laid down to do this and learned I’m actually quite sleepy, so let’s do it another time. Hopefully I don’t come up on another immediate problem and despair. Just remember not to start combining things and rereading things yet, okay. Please.

This would be alarming if I hadn't already gotten past this point and written the thing. So I'm going to go into editing it with the mindset that nothing substantial shall change and boohoo to me if I want it to, and once that's done we're pretty much home free.

Now tags.

Gonna dip a toe back into being melancholy and wistful about this fandom k, I really do miss it even though I'm the only one keeping me out. You're all my friends even if that is a surprise for you to hear because we haven't talked in months or maybe ever, but I love each and every one of you x

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy

@bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @noblecorgi @alexalexinii

@rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @basiltonbutliketheherb @whogaveyoupermission @facewithoutheart

@martsonmars @iamamythologicalcreature @run-for-chamo-miles @thewholelemon

@forabeatofadrum @youarenevertooold @ileadacharmedlife @monbons

[genericpuff]

I'm curious - how many unanswered asks do you have in your inbox? Or do you just delete the ones you don't plan on answering?

do you feel good anon

do you feel good about yourself with this question

targeting me like that

geeeeez

ok but more seriously LMAO i have an embarrassingly large amount of unanswered asks but i do read all of them <3 a lot of them honestly are just from folks like, sharing their anonymous opinions about either LO and LR, with the odd one about comic advice, sharing webtoon recommendations, and other things of that nature!

In the case of the LO asks, it's stuff that often has already been spoken about at length before so I don't really have anything to add (but trust me, I'm usually in total agreement, if I heavily disagree with a take I'll usually try to respond to it but it's rare that that's the case because most of the takes are just things like "wow the art in this panel sucks" like yep it sure do LOL) and often it just feels like my inbox is just like, a comment box for people to get their feelings out anonymously and honestly that's fine, I just also can't really respond to every single one unfortunately, but I do read them and I love y'all's takes!

With LR asks, y'all are way too sweet to me and send me just the kindest things about LR, and I hope y'all know that even if I wind up not getting back to your ask about it, I do read everything you send and appreciate so much the amount of support you've all shown for this project since I took it on <3 A lot of those asks are literally my version of "do it for her" where I read them and it reminds me of why it's so worth doing what I do :') <3

Whenever people recommend me other works to read, I add them to a list and I am currently trying to tackle it :) (honestly that list isn't as big as you'd think, a lot of the recommendations are for the same stuff, like other Greek myth retelling comics or otherwise just bad webtoons that people want me to suffer thru LOL) I just recently finally got a physical copy of Song of Achilles and while it's slow going, I'm gonna be sharing my extended thoughts about it, either in a big Tumblr post or maybe a video if I can motivate myself to do it 🤔

And of course, the comic advice asks... these ones admittedly I do tend to actually move into my drafts because I really, REALLY do want to respond to them, but I'm also not someone to half-ass responses to questions like that. That is a bit of a bad habit on my end because it often means I'm spending crazy amounts of time going over topics that can be researched, but I also just really love talking about comics so it doesn't feel good to get a comic advice ask and just leave it at "idk just start" like yeah, do that, but also I want to pass on all the things I WISH I had known when I was first starting out and I'm glad people see me as someone to learn those things from! So when it comes to those asks, don't worry, I'm picking away at them <3 (but also man, I should probably just like... put together some kind of hitchhiker's guide to comic making or something huh LOL)

Anyways! I do have a lot of unanswered asks and honestly, I'm not really one to delete them, even if I don't get back to some of them it is still nice to read them in their own little curated space separate from my main blog, it's kind of like a personal comment section between myself and those of you who took the time to write <3 The only asks I tend to outright delete are ones that are just like, way too bad faith to even want to give any attention to, or bot spam lmao But for the majority of y'all who have sent genuine asks to my inbox and never saw a response and worry that I might have ignored it or deleted it, I hope you can have reassurance in knowing that they are all still there and even if I can't make time every day to respond to them, receiving all your personal takes about LO and your amazing feedback and kind words about LR is something I'm always excited to see whenever that little notification pops up in my Inbox tab. I see you and appreciate you <3

[scoonsalicious]

Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

In the meantime, please enjoy this third installment of Unwanted: Unusables, or, chapters from the original story that never made it to the final draft. Today, we're looking at an alternate Chapter 7: (what would become) Unburdened. This draft immediately follows the events of yesterday's Unusable.

I ended up scrapping this entire version of the chapter, because I decided to go in a different direction in Chapter 5, so everything had to be redone. But, it has one of my favorite scenes-- Girls' Night, so I'm glad that I could eventually share it with you, besties!

Enjoy!

When you woke up the following morning, you felt lighter than you could remember feeling in a long, long time. It was as if the maelstrom of agitation that had been coursing through you since Bucky first saw Jade's profile had finally abated, and you were waking to the calm following the storm, everything feeling newly cleansed by the rain.

Granted, your head was killing you with a tremendous hangover, but your soul felt lighter, and that's what should count the most, right?

You stretched, reaching out for Bucky, but finding only empty sheets where his body had been the night before. With a frown, you craned your head to see if he was in the bathroom, but no-- the door was open and the room beyond it dark. Against your will, you felt the weight of your insecurities begin to hover over you once again. Perhaps it was time to talk to Tony to see if you could borrow his Dr. FRIDAY therapy program for yourself. You were definitely in need of some kind of professional help.

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you contemplated whether or not you should change out of Bucky's shirt before you trekked back across the hall to your own room so you could mope. The odds of anyone seeing you were slim, since you were still the only two people living on this floor, but there was no guarantee someone wouldn't be around looking for either one of you. You wondered what would have people talking more-- the sight of you in only Bucky's shirt, or you leaving his room in the clothes you'd worn the night before. Not that it really mattered, you supposed. You were fairly confident from the team's reactions at dinner last night that the majority of them knew the two of you were having sex, or at the very least suspected it, anyway.

Before you could make your decision, however, Bucky's door opened and he walked in, carrying a breakfast tray laden with bacon and eggs and an overly-large water bottle.

"You're up," he said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "I was hoping I'd be back before you woke, but I figured you could use some sustenance for what's probably a major hangover." He slid the tray onto the bed before crawling back in next to you.

"Did you seriously bring me breakfast in bed, Barnes?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. That was beyond adorable of him.

"'course I did," he said, picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite. "Figure your head's got to be killing you, since you never drink that much. Here." He unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and passed it to you. "Electrolytes. Drink up." You took a swig of the lemony-lime flavored Liquid IV he'd prepared for you.

"Thank you," you said. "This is incredibly sweet, but I could have gotten up to get breakfast myself; you didn't have to go to all the trouble."

"I confess, my motives aren't that altruistic," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "I have no intention of letting you get out of this bed at all today, and I figured you should have at least something in your stomach before I launch my nefarious plan." His eyes twinkled with mischievous intent, making your heart flutter in anticipation.

"Your nefarious plan, huh?" Your eyebrow arched in curiosity as you took another bite of bacon, cooked extra crispy, exactly the way you liked. "And what might that be?"

"Well," he started, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear.

"Since I was an absolute ass and made you feel like shit yesterday, I had hoped I could spend today making you feel good. I could lie and say I planed a day spent snuggled up together watching movies, but in reality I was thinking we could explore the possibility of other more... intimate activities."

A blush crept over your cheeks as you met his gaze. The promise lingering in his icy blue eyes sent a thrill down your spine, making you momentarily forget about the pounding headache. "That sounds...enticing," you admitted. "You have my attention."

"Good," he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip. "Because I also remember a promise made to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name."

The heat that instantaneously flooded your cheeks at his words made you glad you hadn't bothered changing out of his shirt, after all. You tried to play it cool, to match his relaxed nonchalance, even as your heart pounded like a drum within your chest.

"I do seem to recall you saying something to that effect last night, now that you mention it," you said, trying to sound casually thoughtful in spite of the tidal wave of arousal that was rushing throughout your body.

Bucky nodded, the smile on his face growing wider by the second. "Let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word." You turned, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled away from you. "Nu-uh, doll," he tsked. "You need to hydrate and protein-load first, then I'll ruin you."

"I dunno, Buck," you contemplated as you dug into a forkful of scrambled eggs. "You may have already ruined me. I could get used to this kind of treatment real fast."

"Sweetheart, if one breakfast in bed has ruined you, you've been spending all your time with the wrong kind of man," he drawled.

"Well, I think we both know that's the understatement of the year," you laughed.

Bucky chuckled, a hearty sound that reverberated through the room and eased any lingering insecurities that had arisen when you woke up alone. He was right; you were spending time with the right kind of man now. You turned to find him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, sweet, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You found yourself blushing again, quickly turning your attention back to the breakfast tray in an attempt to hide it. "Says the man who looks like he fell straight off a GQ cover," you teased lightly.

Even though his smile never wavered, there was a depth to his gaze that made your heart race. "Noticed that, did you?" He asked, his tone teasing as he took another bite of his bacon.

It was your turn to chuckle now, the sound soft and full of warmth. "Maybe once or twice," you said with a shrug.

"I ever tell you you make make grateful I fell off that train?"

Your heart momentarily stopped at his words. You looked at him, really looked, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. His tone was so casual, as if he were commenting on the weather, but the weight of his words were monumental.

"What?" you managed to gasp out, completely thrown off balance, breakfast momentarily forgotten.

He chuckled softly at your bewilderment, his fingers reaching out to gently caress your face. "I shoulda been dead long before you were ever even born, doll. Fallin' off that train, becoming the Winter Soldier, it was hell, but if it'd hadn't happened, I never would of gotten to meet you. That's made it all worth it."

You stammered, trying to find words that could match the intensity of the moment. "Bucky... That's..."

"True," he finished for you, his gaze steady on yours. "You are my silver lining, sweetheart. The best thing this twisted life has given me."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt admission. This was Bucky - raw and open-hearted - sharing something profoundly personal with you.

"Bucky... I..." You struggled to form a sentence that could properly encapsulate how you felt in the moment, so instead, you took the breakfast tray and put it up on the bedside table. Turning back to face him, his expression curious, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand. If you couldn't tell him what his words meant to you, you'd show him.

"I think I'm done with breakfast," you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

His lips moved against yours with devastating slowness. There was nothing rushed or fevered about the kiss, but it was no less all-consuming.

He responded immediately, drawing you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist and maneuvering you until you straddled his lap. His large hands roamed along the curve of your lower back, pulling you against him until there was no space left. The contact made your head spin and your body heat up in places that made you shudder with anticipation.

His taste was as delicious as his touch; a combination of coffee, bacon, and something distinctly Bucky that made your senses reel. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours in an intimate dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel every hard line and muscle of Bucky's torso pressed against your own. His heart pounded in sync with yours, the rhythm picking up as the kiss escalated from sweet to passionate. The sensation made you dizzy with longing.

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. A low growl rumbled from Bucky's chest at the action, sending a thrill of lust coursing through you. His response was immediate, his lips leaving yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, making you gasp in pleasure.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a primal growl that echoed in the otherwise silent room. His possessiveness was as thrilling as it was unexpected. You nodded, unable to form words as desire clouded your mind.

"Yours," you managed to gasp out, the word coming out as a half-sigh, half-moan as Bucky's fingers danced down the length of your back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

His hands moved with a purpose, tracing paths of fire along your skin. Every touch was measured and precise - he knew exactly what he was doing and how it affected you.

It was almost too much to bear - this closeness, the intimacy of his words. It was overwhelming and wonderful all at once. Bucky's touch was like an incantation, a spell that had you completely entranced.

The world narrowed down to just the two of you. The crisp sheets beneath you, the cool morning air filling the room, everything felt insignificant compared to the heat radiating from Bucky's touch, from his gaze. You were lost in him, and it was a sensation you never wanted to quit.

His fingers dipped lower, trailing up the hem of the shirt you wore. A shiver coursed through your body as his cold metal digits met the warm bare skin of your stomach. You gasped audibly, your back arching slightly.

"Sensitive?" Bucky teased, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, circling around your navel before moving upward.

"You have no idea," you managed to breathe out between gasps. Every nerve ending was on fire, your senses heightened by Bucky's seductive touch. His fingers traced a path up your body, fingertips lightly grazing the underside of your breasts. You bit your lower lip, stifling a moan. Bucky noticed, his ocean blue eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own.

"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to yours once more. This kiss was different, though - more demanding, more intense. He claimed your mouth with a burning passion that left you breathless and craving more.

His metal hand moved from your stomach to cup your breast through the thin fabric of the shirt. His touch was electrifying; every stroke sent shock waves coursing through you straight to your core. You moaned into his mouth, arching into his touch.

Bucky pulled away slightly, his gaze sliding down to where his hand was on you. "You like this?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"So fucking much," you admitted, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him back down to your lips. You kissed him with abandon, pouring all the pent-up desire you had been feeling into the action. His groan of pleasure was muffled by your mouth, further stoking the flames of your desire.

His hand kept up its unhurried exploration, fingers finding a hard nipple through the shirt, brushing over it in slow circles. The sensation made you whimper, pulling away from his lips to gasp for breath.

His eyes were filled with a wicked gleam as he took you in, his gaze heated and full of desire. It made your heart beat faster and your body ache with need. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into him completely.

"Bucky," you whispered, the sound coming out as a high-pitched plea. His touch was driving you wild, making it difficult for you to think straight.

"Hmm?" His voice was rough with desire, his breath fanning across your face.

"I... I need..." you trailed off, unsure of how to put your needs into words. You've never wanted someone this much; it was disorienting.

His lips curled up into a smirk again, understanding flashing in his blue eyes. "I know what you need, doll," he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, skin on skin contact causing you to gasp out loud. His touch was demanding, taking and giving pleasure in equal measure.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, causing your nerves to sing with exhilaration. Playing your body like an instrument he'd long ago mastered. He skillfully made his way to the apex of your legs, his fingers just ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"Does this feel good?" he asked in a low growl, his voice rough with need. His fingers dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down slightly.

Your heart pounded in anticipation as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as desire coursed through your veins. His eyes never left yours - an intense gaze filled with passion and unspoken promises.

His hand moved lower still, slipping beneath your waistband. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as his fingers touched you where you wanted him most.

His fingers were cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sent sparks through your body. You couldn't help but shift against his touch, seeking more.

"Bucky," you whispered again, this time in a desperate plea. His smirk widened at your response to his touch as he rubbed slow circles around your most sensitive area. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist as he teased you. He watched you carefully, taking in your every reaction and using it to heighten your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said in a low murmur, his voice filled with raw need that caused your pulse to flutter. He continued his slow exploration, dipping a single metal digit into your heat, causing you to gasp at the intrusion.

"Yes... Bucky," you stammered out, your voice barely above a whisper. The slow stretch of his finger inside of you sent fire shooting through every nerve ending. Each stroke of his hand was perfectly orchestrated as if to bring you the greatest amount of pleasure possible.

"Shh, I got you, doll," he reassured you, his voice low and thick with wanting. His pace didn’t quicken; instead he kept a slow, torturous rhythm that had you squirming.

You could feel the tension building within you, spiraling up from the pit of your stomach. The pressure increased with every skilled stroke of Bucky’s fingers until you felt like you were on the edge of something monumental. Your breath hitched, and your grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where you were sure it would leave marks.

You wanted to look at him, wanted to see his face as he watched you unravel under his touch, but your eyes were squeezed shut, the tension mounting within you too intense to bear otherwise.

"Look at me," Bucky commanded huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You obeyed instantly, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue gaze. The raw desire there took your breath away. "That's it," he murmured approvingly, his fingers continued their exploration, every touch igniting a flame that threatened to consume you completely.

"I want you to come for me," he growled, pressing harder against the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. You whimpered at his words, the knot in your stomach tightening further. His command added another layer of intensity to the already building climax.

Your body tensed and you gasped audibly as waves of euphoria crashed over you. Your mind went blank and your vision blurred as the orgasm hit you with full force. All you were aware of was Bucky; his intense gaze, his fingers relentlessly driving you through your climax, and his voice murmuring words of encouragement.

"Good girl... that's it. Let go," he coaxed, his rough voice a thread anchoring you in the storm. As the tremors began to recede, he slowed his movements, easing you through the aftershocks.

Your senses slowly returned, and you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding wildly. You were still clutching his arm, your grip loose now but no less desperate. His touch was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and need that left you craving more.

Bucky eased his hand away from your core. His gaze was steady on your face, watching as you tried to regain your bearings. His eyes softened as he took in your flushed face and disheveled hair.

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm securely around your trembling form as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. There was a tenderness in this gesture that moved you deeply, causing tears to pool in your eyes.

"Bucky..." you murmured, turning your face further into his chest. He hummed a quiet acknowledgement in response, his fingers beginning to draw soothing patterns on your back.

"Yes, doll?" His voice was still rough, but the edge of raw need had smoothed out. Now it was gentle and filled with warmth and affection that had not been so evident before.

"You...you're..." You found it difficult to articulate what you were feeling right then. It was overwhelming - the intense euphoria from the pleasure he'd given you combined with the burgeoning emotions that threatened to spill over.

He seemed to understand regardless. "I know," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I know."

There was an unspoken agreement between you both then; an agreement that this casual arrangement you had entered into all those months ago had transcended into something far deeper, far more meaningful, than either one of you had ever anticipated.

You sat together in silence for a while, foreheads pressed against each other as you regained your composure, breathing in each other's breath. When your limbs had finally stopped shaking and your pulse had evened out, you met his gaze.

"Buck, we have a problem," you murmured, sliding your cheek against his, the rough stubble tantalizing against your skin.

He nuzzled into your face. "What's that, doll?"

You pulled back to look him in the eye, a wicked glint in your gaze. "I seem to still be able to remember my name."

He reached for the hem of the shirt you'd borrowed and pulled it up over your head and tossed it to the floor. "Honey, I haven't even begun to fuck you yet." With a wolfish grin, Bucky picked you up and maneuvered you so that you were lying on your back, his form hovering above you. His drew his head down to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking long and hard on your nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his eager mouth. He devoured you like a man starving.

You lost yourself to the sensation as he continued his ministrations, and it wasn't long before he had once again reduced you to a whimpering mess. Time itself lost all meaning as he brought you over the edge over and over and over again. Finally, after what seemed like hours, you were sobbing with over-stimulation and the sheer intensity of what you felt for him.

After he'd finished inside of you for the second time, Bucky leaned over you, planting feather-light kisses along the planes of your face. "What's your name, doll?" he asked, voice husky.

You tried to answer, but no coherent thought would come to you; all you could do was pant as you tried to focus and re-center yourself.

He had done it. The man had fucked you until you'd forgotten your own name.

And you absolutely loved him for it.

*

The days that followed were some of the very best of your entire life. If you weren't training or working (well, okay, plenty of times when you were working), Bucky had you on your back. Or bent over a desk, or up against a wall, or down on all fours. Several times, he had sat you on his face, your hands gripping on to the headboard for dear life as his tongued probed as deeply into your cunt as he could get it. You had fucked in so many positions, in so many places, you were sure the entire Tower knew what you were doing. Not that you cared; you were head over heals in love with the man, and you were fairly confident he felt the same about you.

It was just that neither one of you had actually spoken the words.

So secure were you in this new connection with Bucky that it didn't even phase you when Tony announced one afternoon that Jade Carthage had officially accepted a three-month probationary appointment with the Avengers, and would be moving into the Tower in just a few days time.

"Okay, Pocket, what gives?" Nat asked you. Girls' Night had come around again, and the two of you, along Wanda, were set up in the common room, working your way through two large pizzas and a couple of orders of mozzarella sticks. Pepper was unfortunately on the West Coast, away on some official Stark Industries CEO business. "Tony announces Jade's imminent arrival and you don't even blink."

You shrugged your shoulders as you popped half a mozzarella stick into your mouth. "I'm not worried about her anymore," you told them. "I mean, I still don't like her, and we're not going to be best friends, but Bucky and I are in a good place." You paused and gave them a knowing look. "A really good place."

"So you are sleeping together!" Wanda leaned back, lifting her feet off the floor and kicking them in delight. You ducked your head, trying to stifle the smile and hide the blush that bloomed across your face. "Okay, I have so many questions! First of all, how long has this been going on? Second, what' it like? You know, his..." she tiled her eyes down. "Third, how is it? It's got to be so good, right? I mean, look at him!"

"Slow down!" you laughed. "God, Wands, should we change your name from Scarlet Witch to the Sokovian Horndog? Cause damn, girl!"

It was Wanda's turn to blush. "I'm sorry; I've just wanted this for you for so long, I can't stand it!" She stood up and threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, which you gladly reciprocated.

"Thanks, sweetie," you said with a laugh.

"Thanks later, answers now," she told you, pulling back from you to lean against the arm of the couch.

"Oh, I got this," Nat said, grin plastered across her face. "Let's see... One: four months, since the night he got back from his first mission. Two: She's called him Magic Dick, to his face. And three: Sometimes, when they're done, she can't even walk." She turned to you. "That about cover it?" You laughed, nodding your head.

"Yeah, that basically covers it," you said with a grin.

"I cannot believe this has been going on for four months and you both kept it from me," Wanda said with a pout. "I have been shipping the two of you for over a year, and this is how you repay me?"

"We weren't telling anyone, Wands," you said, trying to placate your friend.

"Oh, I'm too excited for you to be actually mad at you," she confessed. "So, you two a legitimate couple now, or what?"

You paused, biting your lip in consideration. "Well, no? I mean, it started as this completely no-strings-attached, casual sex, friends-with-benefits thing, but the morning after the dinner disaster, he told me that I made him grateful he fell off the train and--"

"I'm sorry, he said what?!" Nat interrupted at the same time Wanda grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into with with excitement, kicking her feet once more.

"Pocket," Nat continued grabbing your arms and shaking you, "for Barnes, that's practically a declaration of undying love!"

You scrunched your shoulders in glee. "I know!" you squealed, not being able to help how exhilarated the idea made you feel.

"And then what did you say?" Wanda asked.

You dropped your shoulders. "Um... well, I didn't actually say anything."

Wanda's eyes went wide. "So you just left him hanging there after he said that?" she asked, incredulous.

"No! I absolutely replied!" you insisted. "Just... not with words. It was more of a... physical response."

Wanda and Nat shared a look. "Okaaaay," they both said in unison before the three of you burst into laughter.

"Pepper is going to be so pissed she missed this," Wanda said, pulling out her phone to text your missing friend. "Though she'll probably be more angry about losing the bet."

"The bet?" you asked, confused.

"Oh, I bet her $100 that you two would end up together before your birthday," Wanda said with a grin as she texted away. "Pepper thought it wouldn't happen until night of, or after."

You tossed a pillow at her, knocking her phone from her hands. "Hey!" she cried out.

"That's what you get for betting on your friends' love lives," you told her, though your voice held no heat. If anything, it was weirdly sweet. Except... "Wait, is it super bizarre that Pepper's making bets on my sex life when she's technically my boss?" you asked.

"Yeah, you going to HR with that complaint?" Nat asked, laughing at the face you made. Her laughing set Wanda off, which set you off in turn, and soon the three of you were in hysterics.

"Damn, we too early for the panty pillow fight?" a voice from across the room caught your attention, and you looked up to see Sam, Steve, and Bucky standing in the doorway.

God, Bucky looked so good. He was wearing a Henley and a pair of jeans, but damn it if it wasn't doing things to you. You flashed him a giant smile. "Hey, Buckaroo," you said, your voice coming out far huskier than you intended it to.

"Don't engage, Pocket," Nat murmured. "They'll think think it's an invitation to come join us." But it was too late; the boys had already begun walking over to where you sat, Sam immediately grabbing a slice of pizza and digging in.

"Hey, doll," Bucky said, leaning over you and placing a kiss to your lips. He quickly pulled back as though he'd been burned, realizing what he'd done of your friends, and the two of you started at each other in surprise and shock over his actions.

"You know what, fuck it," you said, fisting his shirt and pulling him down, slotting your lips over his like your life depended on it. He responded instantly, practically crawling onto the couch to deepen the kiss, pulling you into his lap. You barely registered the sounds of your friends whooping and cheering around you. After what felt like several heady minutes, when you eventually came up for air, you were both smiling, red embarrassment creeping up your faces.

"It's about damned time!" Sam shouted, throwing a mozzarella stick a the two of you. With lighting reflexes, Bucky caught it midair, bit half of it and fed you the rest.

"All this fanfare over a simple kiss?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring the pointed looks. "Stop making it a big deal."

"I have literally wanted nothing more in my entire life," Wanda said, fiddling with her phone. "And I may have taken a picture to send to Pepper to prove she lost."

Bucky gave you a questioning look.

"The Sokovian Horndog over there has been placing bets on us," you sighed. "We just won her $100." A corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

"Best buy my girl something pretty with your winnings then, Red," he teased. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched in amusement as Wanda's cheeks flushed at Bucky's words.

Your friends continued to playfully give you both shit for a few more moments when you realized someone was missing from your little group.

"Hey, where did Steve go?" You were sure the blond super soldier had entered the room with Bucky and Sam, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, he sort of ran out when you two started to play tonsil hockey," Sam said between bites of pizza.

"Bathroom, maybe?" Nat suggested, her eyes glancing towards the hallway, but you could tell there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Bucky, however, seemed to have a better grasp on what might have occurred and his eyes scanned the room with a more discerning look. A sigh escaped him before he gently nudged you off his lap, rising from the couch. "I'll go find him," he said, turning down to give you a quick kiss goodbye. "Come on, Sam. We've disturbed Girls' Night long enough."

The Falcon began protesting, unfinished pizza slice still in hand, but Bucky grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off toward the hallway. Once they reached the doorway, Bucky turned around and gave you a quick wink.

"I'll see you at bedtime, Babydoll," he said, before dragging Sam off with him.

You waited a beat, giving the boys time to get out of earshot before the three of you began squealing like pre-teens.

"He's never called me that before," you gushed, the happiness coursing through you so intense you were afraid you'd launch into orbit.

"You are going to get such a good dicking down tonight!" Nat declared, coming around to playfully punch you on the shoulder.

And you absolutely did.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Heyo, sorry to bother, but I got somethin' to say.

Your writings, your fanfic, it's all amazing. The scenes are so immersive that I can feel the moments as I read them.

Could you perhaps give some advice for some aspiring writers such as myself?

How do you make your first drafts and make the scenes? Do you have a roughed out plan, or do you just write and let your mind take over?

I strive to have writings like yours. So descriptive, so well made.

It's literally never a bother, I love getting asks, especially this kind.

Usually I'll have a rough plan lined out (I didn't have one for Oil is Thicker Then Blood Originally, it was supposed to be a one shot.) But by rough I mean rough. Anything in my planner is subject to change, or something may be added or removed, depending on what I would want to write about.

And honestly I found that if you're like me and instantly forget all your ideas the second you close whatever your using to write, it helps you stay on track. But it really shouldn't be a hard- point by point, this, than this, then end. You should have fun with it, and if you want to add something goofy and off-the-plot, do it! All practice is good practice.

Also Don't be afraid to sound cringy, literally everyone sounds cringy when they first start, sometimes I look back at my first fanfics and want to scream, but it's fine. You'll find your style and get past that growing stage.

Anything else? Uh, try to write at least a little bit every day (I mean, not like I do, I'm self employed) but like a paragraph or two, it'll keep you in the habit and give you constant practice. This may be hard at first, writers block is a bitch. But discipline is just as important as your creativity and motivation, at least try!

I hope that helped somewhat, I honestly don't really have any other advice, anything I use for organization probably won't work for everyone, so I won't get into that.

Thank you for asking though!

[writingquestionsanswered]

I finally have motivation to write but no inspiration. I have a bunch of ideas, but not well fleshed-out, pretty weak, and feels there's no "point" to the story. But I'm struggling to add more to it. I don't feel inspired. There is no drive for my own WIPs. I do have a creative well. I just feel like I'm lacking the heart for writing. But I get so pumped when I see others' WIPs! It's like I have apathy for my own ideas. Am I just not creative enough to be a writer?

Struggling with Creativity & Inspiration

If you feel your "creative well" is full and you're still struggling to find inspiration, I definitely wouldn't jump to the conclusion that you're not creative enough to be a writer. There are a lot of other places where there might be an issue… 1 - You Don't Know Enough About How Stories Work - This is honestly the biggest obstacle for newest writers to overcome. Humanity is so invested in stories, yet the vast majority of us don't really know how they work. Kind of like cars or cell phones. They're a part of daily life for a lot of us, but most of us couldn't really explain a lot about how they work. There are all different kinds of stories and they all work in different ways, but most of them revolve around conflict and follow basic story structure. In fact, most of our favorite stories move forward in the same general way. Once you master these basics, it's easier to flesh out your ideas and figure out where to go with them. My Plot & Story Structure master list is a good place to start.

2 - Your Expectations Are Askew - The next biggest obstacle for newer writers is the mistaken belief that writing should be easy... that you can just sit down with an idea and off you go to write the story that will make you famous. Of course, that isn't how writing works at all. Even if you know how stories work, have fleshed out ideas, an outline, motivation and inspiration, time and energy... you still have to put the words down on paper, and that requires thought and effort as well as acceptance that what you write isn't going to be as amazing as you want it to be. Not until you've written a lot of bad and mediocre stories. And even then, your first drafts will never be final drafts. You have to give yourself permission to write an unpolished mess before you can polish it up into something pretty.

3 - You're Getting Hung Up On Silly Things - If you're anything but an experienced writer, you don't need to worry about "the point" to your story. You don't have to worry about underlying messages, your writing style, motif and theme... You have to focus on quantity before quality, and all those other things will fall into place. If you give yourself permission to write stories that have messy plots, lack point or purpose, have characters with sketchy arcs if any at all, and which aren't super well written, you can learn to write stories where all of those things are really well done.

So... learn the basics of how stories work, then just sit down and write. Take an idea and run with it. Do a writing prompt. Write some fan-fiction. Give yourself permission to write something that won't be good, that you might not even finish. Just start. Don't worry about point. Don't worry about message Don't worry about theme. Don't worry about style. Just start writing. You're not here to write a masterpiece... not yet. :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[atsadi-shenanigans]

Writer Interview Game!

Thank you so much for the tag, @gilded-glitter!

When did you start writing?

I was actually toodling around with that in elementary school. At some point, I think I tried to write Jurassic Park 3? (This was before that movie was a thing). Got about 15 pages into it.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love fantasy and especially dark fantasy (with horror elements). Could do sci-fi, I think. And the romance angle is new, but I think I'm liking it, as long as I can build it slowly and they're both kind of dorks. And I read all of the above, and a BOATLOAD of non-fiction, mostly history, accidents, adventures-going-wrong, etc. I have three bookshelves, and one of them is entirely (and overflowing) with non-fiction.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Hmm. I loved Animorphs as a kid, and Jurassic Park. So anything in that vein, I guess? Got compared to Laini Taylor once and I almost choked on my own tongue. If anyone EVER comped my to Tamsyn Muir I would simply expire.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Literally wherever. First drafts are by hand, because I can take and deploy a notebook anywhere, anytime, with hardly a fuss. The majority of my fic is probably written during my lunch break at my work desk in the old spiral, college-ruled notebook.

At home, when typing, my desk is a catastrophe. Stacks of paper and other notebooks and knocked over figurines. Organization? I don't know her.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Writing something fun? Listening to music a lot. I'm kinda a work horse, and I've trained myself to GO in about the time of a lunch break or the 10-15 minutes waiting for the bus. The small time increments really helps (not a big commitment, just whatev).

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Outsiders, monsters (both of those being the actual hero, I SEE YOU GUILLERMO DEL TORO). Rage against everything that hurt you but like, trying to find a way to channel that. Not super surprised.

What is your reason for writing?

I like it. It's fun! And it's REALLY fun sharing it; lets me connect to other people.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Literally anything. I'm just tickled somebody took the time to do it (god knows I don't always have enough spoons).

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I've never really thought about that? (see above, re: outsiders). Never got noticed much in my olden fandom days. So uh, the thought of being perceived vaguely makes me want to crawl under the desk???

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Dialogue and fights.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I mean, like any writer, I waffle between "Holy crap, this is my best work yet!" and "Throw it in the bin! IN THE BIN!" One thing I've learned is to have fun with it. Because NOT having fun makes it a mind-melting slog and you get burnt out. I try not to take it all very seriously.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Ehhh, more towards what I like and hope it finds an agreeable audience. I know better than to chase trends. I write long fiction, and that is an UNDERTAKING. The only way to consistently see it through is to like what you're working on, so I definitely need to care enough to carry the bitch through.

Tagging: @bardnuts @britonell, @sasseffects @britosia @hiboudeluxe @shewhowas39 @allymcfee and @mutualcombat

[lilolilyr]

I have an idea for an Andromaquynh modern AU fanfic

In it, Quynh moves back home to her parents after getting a degree at university she isn't really sure she can or wants to use. She used to think that she's a city girl despising the suburbs she grew up in, but now she thinks she was wrong about that or maybe her preferences changed, she doesn't much like the cities she studied in anymore, first she thinks it's because she studied abroad (in the countries of her ancestors) and could never quite connect to the culture there, but visiting a friend in a city in her home country shows her it isn't just that, she just prefers a quieter environment

In the meantime, her parents have moved to a different part of town and it doesn't really feel like coming home at all. Quynh still struggles with her place in life, she doesn't want to hang around on her parents' couch doing nothing forever but she doesn't know what else to do either and the thought of a regular 9-5 job in an office terrifies her, she has done enough internships in that kind of environment to know she can't stand it for long

Quynh starts taking long walks through the countryside, for her health because she hasn't really found any sports/active hobbies in the area yet (that's an aspect she really liked about the cities, there's always something interesting going on, she used to dance and try out things like shooting with bow&arrow and axe throwing), and to have quiet time to think away from her family. That way she gets to know the area quite well - she actually already knows it a bit because she really didn't live far away as a kid, but she never really walked through the fields on this side of the suburbs before

On her walks she sometimes comes across equestrians, and one time a horse throws off its rider and she ends up catching the animal, which doesn't seem to mind people in general just people trying to climb and sit on it - it won't stay the last time she comes across that particular animal, and she thinks she understands the horse quite well what with not wanting to do jobs they don't like just to be allowed to live comfortably.

Andy's the owner of the horse riding school, and when a girl falls off her horse (probably the one that doesn't much like its riders, Quynh calls it Big Guy lovingly not knowing what it's actually called) and needs medical attention, Quynh ends up taking the horse back to the stables and meets Andy there.

There's a bit of an age-gap between them and even once they meet and fall in love Andy is reluctant to commit to Quynh out of fear of tying Quynh to a life she might not really want, meanwhile Quynh is finally figuring out her place in life and she wants to stay with Andy.

I'll probably never write the full fanfic, I just don't have the time and motivation for it. If anyone's interested in getting the draft and adopting it, I'd love to hand it over for you to write it!

Post is okay to reblog :)

The draft I have is pretty much in bullet points atm, but I'd even go over it and clean it up a bit if someone's really interested in adopting the fic, and I'd be open to either chatting about it and giving more input, or you taking it and doing your own thing with it!

I don't have the time to write a longfic atm and I feel like what with the plot I'm thinking of, it really needs to be 10 or even 20k minimum to start doing it justice... That being said if sb wants to try writing a shorter version or is inspired by it to write anything similar, absolutely feel free! Just pls lmk once it's done so I can read it :D

I also already wrote a college AU horse girl!Andy longfic before, and while that one was happier and this one would probably have quite some angsty vibes before reaching its happy ending, it still kind of feels like I've done this before, also reducing my motivation for it even more :( which is a pity really because I do really like the idea.

If you want to take on the story reply to this or send me an ask/dm and we can figure out how to do this, discord/email/docs or whatever :)

My tog tag list - I know it's been ages, if anyone wants off this list or if someone new wants on it, please let me know! -: @bobeau-beaubo @lesbianlotties (daniwouldnever) @ongreenergrasses @eyeh0rr0r @cantteachanoldguardnewquotes @badwolfkaily @andramaquynhs @depresbianintheclassicalsense @andy-the-scythian @cryhardanddanceharder @my-gaydar-is-on-point @spookyvoidangelskeleton @bookerandy @jackwolfskid @cinnamonplums @cruzwalters @kayivy @blacks-phoenix @binariesarebullshit @tea-lizzard @prevalent-masters @aftermillennia @youssefguedira (pierremichelofavignon) @salzundhonig @moonlightbuckley @genyathefirebird (rupzydaisy) @nickydestati @after-a-millennium @spacewitchqueen @damnbert @not-so-good-omen (innocent-gayngel) @rhubarbdreams-blog @bedalk

[hojiteaversion]

Why I Think RC Has Trouble Sticking Their Landings

(Or, a pantser talks about structure and DLS for like 8 paragraphs)

My short answer: Because these stories are first drafts

Longer answer: ⬇️

1) (Lack of) Developmental editing

RC's model has its authors write long stories 2-4 chapters at a time. As much as the authors might perfect these chapters, they have no way to change something later on if they realize a scene no longer matches the big picture. An author may revise and make a batch of 4 flawless chapters, but it still doesn't mean they will fit the story seamlessly.

Developmental editing, according to this article, "involves feedback on the big picture of a […] writing piece. A developmental editor will critique structural elements like the plot, characters, theme, and organization of ideas." They also say that this kind of editing is recommended after the first or second draft.

So this type of revision would help an author make sure every character has its place (too many LIs and uneven LI screentime could be fixed), that characterization is consistent, that the plot is clear and moving at a good pacing, etc.

In DLS, for example, things that might be revised after a developmental editing: Leo's introduction scenes not matching his characterization later on, the Leo/Vlad rivalry that seems a bit strange in hindsight, more prominent role and scenes for Sandra, a more consistent progression in Noe/Laia and Ezel/Laia routes, fairer distribution of LI scenes (🫠), Laia's character motivations, the plot mysteries might be revealed to the reader a bit earlier, etc.

But these stories are arguably first drafts that will never be revised holistically (like Choices stories are/used to be, as far as I'm aware), so problems that only become clear once you're further along might not be fixed satisfactorily (or at all).

What sort of problems? Well...

2) Structure, part I

So the visual novel medium is fairly recent, right? Choose Your Own Adventure stories have existed for a while, but, I'm pretty sure, not in the scale of RC stories. 3 seasons demand a lot of story. And the thing is, I'm not sure there is a lot of guidance out there regarding story structure for interactive stories? Not that I've found, at least.

This is a problem, I think, because even if these authors follow the existing material on story structure (Save the Cat, Hero's Journey, Classic 3 Act, Seven-Point Structure, etc.), they will have to do the work of adapting it for a visual novel that A) has 3 seasons as a default, and B) 3 seasons of more or less equal length.

Look, it absolutely can be done! But my point is, I think it's generally uncharted territory and requires a lot of problem-solving. It's not just figuring what must happen in this story for it to be satisfying, it's also deciding when each thing must happen in a way that fits the requirements of three seasons and their finales, which must all fit together, but also be individually exciting and balance setup and payoff. And there is no way to go back and fix it if you realize you messed up the pacing somewhere! Not to mention…

3) Structure, part II: Routes

Not only do they have to figure out plot and structure (without being able to revise the finished story as a whole), but they also need to figure out and balance at least 4 different dynamics. As in, when it gets established, how to keep those dynamics fresh even after they get together, and how to synchronize MC's development with that relationship and its milestones. And again, it's not like there is a manual or a right answer. You have to write and fix afterwards — except they can't 😀. So if an author realizes later on that x couple needed a scene earlier on, or that they rushed things, or any other problem, there is nothing to be done except maybe add more scenes that might stand out from whatever they're trying to correct.

A tiny example of this problem in DLS would be Leo and Laia telling Derya that they're dating, which is clearly a correction of the scene in 4x02 where Laia called him "a friend" because "[she] thought it went against local customs to make a show of pre-marital relationships". In 2019 Istanbul. It would just make more sense if she had just called him her boyfriend in the first place.

4) Authors

I'll admit I'm least informed about this one, but based on a few interviews I've read with the authors, it seems some of them have never written fiction or visual novels before…? I could be wrong! But! Imagine being new to this medium and having to figure all of that ⬆️ out, with the limitations that RC's model brings. I'm not sure how much training and/or assistance they get in this entire process. It just seems a lot for one person.

And I have no answers for any of this, by the way! I don't work there, I don't know how the company works or how it doesn't. This is just my tentative opinion based on my limited experience with writing. It's extremely hard, and I genuinely cannot imagine trying to do any of that ⬆️ in the first place, but especially if I had to get it right on the first try.

Every writing advice on Earth recommends multiple drafts on longform writing because it's impossible to make your story the best it can be on the first attempt. So I think the RC endings often being unsatisfying might be, mainly, a consequence of that.

[babyseraphim]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @emryses, thank you for always tagging me in such fun things!!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 11

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 122,112

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write pretty much exclusively for Dead Boy Detectives, but I have a oneshot for Marvel from 2017, and an unfinished AU for Critical Role that I'll probably never go back to

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By Lantern's Light

my healing needed more than time

foolish flame

The Case of the Selkie's Skin

Overloaded

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do when I have the time and energy. All my free time is kind of eaten up by writing the fics themselves, so unless the comment is really long or really funny, I usually don't respond. But I appreciate every comment just the same, they are what keep me motivated to write

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I honestly don't really do fics with angsty endings? Because all of my fics are super angsty in general, so I like to end things on a positive note. I guess the closest would be The Case of the Selkie's Skin because there's not really any closure there, they just move onto the next case. But even that one still has a cathartic ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

foolish flame for sure. A lot of my fic endings tend to be bittersweet in some way, but this one was a pure fluffy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah. I don't think I've been regularly posting fics long enough for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I have written smut exactly once, and while it was a really cathartic/rewarding experience, I don't know if I'll ever do it again. It's a little too far out of my comfort zone.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, crossovers aren't really my thing, though I have toyed with the idea of writing a dead boy detectives/pushing daises crossover just for the hell of it. But it probably won't ever make it onto paper.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and the idea of it kinda scares me lol

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Literally changes day to day. I think kirk/spock is the one that will truly own my heart forever, but payneland really is the perfect ship for me (hence all the fanfiction)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Case of Eros's Arrow, which is sitting with 4 chapters on AO3. I still like the concept of it, and my OCs in it, but my writing has changed so much since I started it and I just don't really feel connected to the work itself anymore. Which is a shame, because I left my readers on a total cliffhanger. Whoops.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do alright with descriptive prose (or I enjoy writing it, at the very least). I'm also good at worldbuilding and coming up with fun/creative plots.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Transitions between scenes, and general construction of dialogue (though I've gotten better at dialogue over recent months). I can also get a little ramble-y when it comes to introspection, though I'm usually pretty good about cutting it all down by the time the final draft is done.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't have many thoughts on it. I only speak english, and the only language I've ever used in my fics besides english is Latin (for magic purposes).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supernatural, I think? It was OC fanfiction, I still have it floating around this blog somewhere

20. Favorite fics you've written?

dye it all, rosary I think is my favorite right now. I don't know what the fuck I was on when I wrote that fic, but I wrote chapter 1 in one sitting, and then chapter 2 over the course of a few months. It turned out so much better than I ever could have hoped, and I just truly love it so much.

I also love my healing needed more than time because it has all the stuff that I love in it (magic, lesbians, dogs, kids, and other fun stuff to come). I'm also just really proud that I've managed to stick with it as long as I have; it's the first piece of writing over 14k that I've ever written in my life.

I tag: @many-gay-magpies, @deadtwinksdetectiveagency, @williamvapespeare, and @the-ipre!

[ladysomething]

Hello there lovely human 💛

I’m kind of going around my favorite writers and ask them for advice and insights about their process (so I can collect it all like a hoarder). I hope you mind sharing some wisdom with us 🥺

So what I just don't understand is how you can post as you write while maintaining this level of awesomeness in your writing. Without writing yourself into a corner and keeping consistency. And it is awesome, the first time I read "You and me, we got a big reputation" I stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish it and it left me full of emotion and hollow at the same time (the same way as when you finish a great TV show or a good book or an awesome video game leaves you feeling, like something beautiful just ended and you can never experience it again. The kind of hollow that leaves you wondering what to do with your life now, that your world has changed, where your chest is empty and full at same time).

Anyway, how do you approach your ideas? Do you have the whole fic plotted out before sitting down for the first chapter? Do you write in order? Does it always go the way you plotted it in the beginning? How long did it take you to plot out "Where you go I go"? Or "You and me, we got a big reputation"?

Anything you want to share about your process would be appreciated 💛

I'm trying to put into words my first actually long fic ever and I know it will be better if I post it after it is all finished, but it is also easier to keep up the momentum if you have readers on your side.

hi!!!

firstly, thank you for the love on big reputations. I'm coming up on a year since I posted the first one shot in the don't blame me series, and I'm feeling some type of way about that.

secondly ... man oh man. I'm gonna go question by question here, but I'm gonna put it below the cut because I know I'm gonna ramble.

well the first thing is that I'm not posting as a write, not really. I'm three chapters ahead, which for me is what I need to make sure I don't write myself into a corner. I'm far enough ahead that I can keep control of the narrative. some people like be further ahead, others don't need to be ahead at all, but that's about the appropriate distance for me, I've found.

it depends on the fic! wygig is pretty much entirely plotted out, yeah. big reputations was not. I had a general idea about where it started, how it was ending, and what I wanted to happen in the middle, but specific scenes weren't planned - not like wygig. GMTF I had specific scenes in my head that I wanted to write, but more I had specific emotions I was trying to capture, and I built the plot around that. in my original manuscript, I had the three acts planned out, the main plot points per act, and then felt it out as I went (which ended up meaning I had a serious pacing problem that is still unresolved, hence why it's still sitting in my drafts lmao). so yeah, it depends on the story.

I write in order these days, but I didn't used to. I've just found that, for me, writing in order means that it forces me to keep writing, because I HAVE to go through all the boring scenes to get to the fun scenes. I use it as motivation, but that doesn't work for everyone! it certainly means that sometimes, by the time I get to the fun scene, I've forgotten what I had planned for it, so I have to build it all up again lmao.

no it doesn't always go the way I plotted! characters often do things I hadn't planned for them to do - sometimes good, sometimes bad. I've been going very rogue recently with wygig, as @saiyanwitcher can attest to. she's had to reel me back in quite a lot recently haha.

oh god, it took @saiyanwitcher and I probably .. I'd say we worked on plotting wygig for a solid month before I started writing - BUT the major caveat here is that I was writing the brocedes fic while we were plotting it out. so I refused to start writing wygig until I finished that, which meant we spent more time on plotting than I usually would. and then we revisit plot points as I get closer to writing them - see what can be kept, what needs to be deleted, what needs to be changed to fit the rogue elements I've inevitably introduced lmao

as I said, I didn't really plot big reputations out like I did with wygig, so that didn't really take any time at all! haha

as advice for putting together your first long fic ... what I'll say is this. I've been writing for almost 15 years at this point. I didn't even realise that I was coming up with a way to write that works best for me until I'd already done it.

I realised I needed people to give feedback as I go. I need to have written a lot in advance, before I start posting anything, so that I know I can finish it under my own steam and that my interest will continue. I need to listen to my mind when I get bored, and take a few days break from writing - but I can't go more than a week without touching a fic, otherwise I won't go back.

they're all things you'll learn along the way!

I also think you should try not to compare yourself to others. if you try to match what other people are doing, you'll never finish, because you'll end up disappointed in one way or another. it's easier said than done, for sure, but if it's your first, give yourself some slack and take everything as a learning experience!

and remember, above all else, to write for yourself. if your always writing for yourself, writing what YOU want to see, the motivation is easier to find.

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #33 | 07.26.23

Hi everyone!

It's only been a month (per usual) since the last devlog. But it feels like so long ago! Very weird that last devlog I hadn't even released Intertwine yet. But here we are, back with another one!

Before we get into things, I want to extend the biggest thank you to everyone who has played and supported intertwine!

if you havent played yet, here it is. this is me on my knees asking because i am quite proud of it and what our team accomplished in two months!

in the almost month it's been out, we stand at almost 15k total plays and 200+ reviews which is so crazy to me. i never would've expected that kind of reception for our little game and when i say it has been so motivating for alaris!!! u dont even know!!!

thank you again for all the kind words---i know you are all Sick of me talking about it but i don't know how else to express my gratitude <3 it means so much to me ;_;

I wanted to make sure I inserted an official section for it in the Devlog just to really thank you all for the support. But with that, I shall get into the updates!

But not before a quick belated happy birthday to Fenir!

Writing

I posted it earlier this week, but I HAVE!!! THE MOST EXCITING NEWS!!! At least for me.

I FINISHED DRUK'S FIRST DRAFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We all know how long this has been in the making. I've been talking about his route for what feels like an eternity. Evidently, it's Very Normal to experience burnout, struggles with motivation, creative ruts, etc. etc. at this point in development. The initial and final stages of development are easier because your motivation is up. In the beginning, it's like Wow!! This is Fun!! And towards the end, it's like Wow!!! I actually Fckn Made It!!!!

And so the middle part of development, aka the stage I just entered with Druk's route, is the slog.

Now that I've overcome that initial hurdle, while I'm not near the end of development, I do feel like I will have a better handle of progress on the following routes since I have a better set of expectations and tools on how to get through this stage (compared to when I initially started Druk's route, and I was like what are all these Feelings?? Why am I Struggling so much??).

That being said, WE ARE OVER HALFWAY DONE WITH THE SCRIPT! It currently stands at 200k words including the demo, and with how each of the routes have been shaping up, we have about 150k left to go. Wow!!!!! It is crazy to know I've written that much for Alaris, and this feels like such an exciting milestone to know that I'm over halfway there for the script!

We also have just about wrapped up Fenir's developmental edits, so that makes Kayn and Fenir's foundational versions of their routes done (all that would be left at this point is line tweaking and/or revisions based on beta feedback)!! Overall, this was a really exciting month for writing updates, and I'm so happy to feel back on track with Alaris development <3 I also finished my dissertation proposal in case anyone is keeping track of that HEEHOO

Art

Most of my attention for art was (un?)fortunately on Intertwine this month AGAIN. I really had anticipated being able to dive right into Alaris and irl work this month after Otojam ended. But the reception to Intertwine made it so I needed to dedicate some time to "marketing" artwork aka the artwork I like to make when reaching certain milestones of support (e.g., 1k downloads, etc.). Obviously these aren't necessary, but I like to show my thanks and appreciation in some way, and the artwork is what feels best conveys my gratitude.

Because we hit milestones relatively quickly, I ended up having to make those pieces faster than I anticipated prior to release. So I spent the first half of this month mostly on intertwine "promotional/apprecation" artwork. Near the tail end of this month though, I've prioritized Alaris artwork and have made progress on both the Kickstarter physical rewards and some CG sketches!

sneaky peeky of pretty mermay Aisa

Vui continues to hit it out of the park with the backgrounds. Most of them are spoilers at this point. But I do have one that isn't too bad of a spoiler! And because you all have been so supportive and patient with me, I show hehe

vui and his bg mastery: a preview of the dragon springs

The demo mentions dragon springs (I..... think......... LMAO), and here is a preview of what those dragon springs can look like. Wonder what the context will be in which we visit them, teehee! I'm in love with the way Vui brings the fantasy world of Alaris to life. I am so grateful for him ^^

Market Research

My wrist was feeling ~delicate~ this month due to Otojam crunch and then post-release pieces. So I don't have any actual art pieces to showcase this month for market research. I did play Otojam games and started Cupid Parasite (ryuki and allan my beloveds). But crescence's wrist needs to relax LOL. So no art pieces more than necessary for this month!

I will send some love to my besties over at Ravenstar Games though! If you haven't heard, they have a game currently in development called Lost in Limbo. It looks sick as hell, and the team is unbelievable talented and hardworking. This month to celebrate Barbie, they were able to sneak this promotional piece in, even while working on their Master's ((Do you see...... a familiar group of people..... heh))

Alaris x Lost in Limbo x Barbie the collaboration of the century

That's all from me for now. Thank you again for all the support and love on Intertwine! I've truly cherished all the fanwork, reviews, kind messages, etc.

That being said, while it was a bit of a struggle getting back returning to the Alaris world initially (I was literally like what.... was the plot of this again... LMAOsazodujf), it's been so rewarding to return to my OG gang. The intertwine release and return to Alaris work has also been strangely sentimental since it's reminded me how far I've come in the two years I've been in this dev Thang. As always thank you for your continued support (and for supporting Alaris since it's inception when I was a Wee Dev), and I look forward to bringing you more updates in the future <3

See you all next month, and stay safe!

[tamelee]

I love the way you write, you're so articulate, I wish I could write like that 😭 I'm guessing you get good grades in school? Do you have advice on how to write articulately and clearly while also sounding professional? Like in essay writing?

Huuuu, that’s very kind of you 🥹;-; I’d never imagine anyone saying that to me… ever. 

Well, my grades are good, I have my last exams soon ^^

I do have a few tips! Or rather, there are things I’m still currently learning that may be helpful to you as well📝: 

(Sentence) Structure: I read a book called ‘elements of style’ by William Strunk (revised edition) recently and I learned that no matter how grammatically correct your sentences are, there are still ways to improve its structure. (I had to learn it all over again in English -.-) This is a big topic so I'll name a few specifics you can dive into.

Learn the difference between active and passive voice (passive isn’t bad and sometimes necessary, but active is almost always preferred). Don’t mind all this on your first draft though. It’ll only hinder you.

Study MRU (motivation-reaction units), often used in Fiction writing, but it helped me for essays as well. It is the logical pattern of cause and effect introduced by Dwight V. Swain and I read about it in 'techniques of the selling writer'. Here's an article on the topic as well.

Mind paragraphs. There are different rules for this depending on what you’re writing, but it helps its readability. For Essays especially it’s always good to keep topics separate and lead the reader to your conclusion in a way that makes sense. (It's sorta like holding their hand and going like "because of this... there is this... and therefore... and so.... that's why....") This may need some reorganizing of your premises/subjects at times. I especially need to organize my thoughts before I even start writing.  

Understand what it is that you need to write about and delete everything that isn’t relevant. If you’re like me and you get a ton of new ideas once you delve into a subject, then it’s good to keep a folder (or something similar) for these new ideas. Often these are entire topics on its own and including these into another will only make both unclear and your conclusion muddy. So, ask yourself whether it strengthens your point, or if it’ll make it more confusing. If it won’t make a difference then delete it anyway or save it in your folder for later.  

I always learned that objectivity is important in order to sound professional, though it depends on the kind of essay you’re writing. If you need to convince the reader of something then transparency about your own opinions can help your conclusion be more honest, but be careful of sounding preachy as well. I had to learn all these things when I still studied marketing/communication in entertainment, but it often makes me feel slimy because it’s all very manipulative. (Hence, I quit that path.) It's in fiction as well. Some authors let their own views bleed through their characters in such a way it becomes uncomfortable because it doesn’t argue for the story nor adds to the character— it attacks the reader’s personal morals which possibly gives them an ass-spanking while they’re at it which just really isn’t necessary. Emotional language is fine I think. Sometimes I got compliments from teachers especially because I didn't sound too professional, it requires a bit of knowledge when you can get away with it probably. Just make sure you can back up your arguments/statements and possibly add different views as well. In a way it's more about the confidence in which you present an idea than sounding professional and not being able to understand all the 'why's' I believe.

This one isn't that relevant for school-essays, but sometimes when writing one the question isn't clear. It helps both you and the reader to reformulate it in the beginning. Essays as well as stories are often nothing more than a problem you need to give an answer to. Even if there's no question, it helps to make one anyway so you don't wander off endlessly and drown in a sea of possible subjects you could write about.

Something that may help you as well— I created a roadmap for myself and the different types of things I have to write. That way I always know what to do first and it helps me structure both the essay and my process as I can get easily distracted otherwise. Making more decisions than necessary makes me freeze up, but with a roadmap I don’t have to do either.

Uuh, I've probably picked up on tons of helpful things lately, but I think these are great to start with. I hope they are helpful to you.

I always wanted to (story-)write, but gave up on it and decided to learn how to draw instead. Then, I sort of realized that I was being an idiot, because that desire never left and I had to write other things anyway— like this for example, and simply accepting the fact that no one can understand the load of incomprehensible rubbish I wrote, just wouldn’t do. You can check my older posts… it’s awful. If I ever intentionally want to give myself another headache, I’ll go and read those. 

It’s definitely not perfect now, but hopefully I improved though. I think so. Sometimes I still get scolded as I tend to ping-pong between thoughts suddenly and I can hardly tell the difference between BrE/AmE. (As I grew up I learned English mostly through a sort-of-aunt figure from Canada that always forced me to watch British tv with her.) But, the past few months I especially had to write many essays and (argumentative) case studies so I decided to learn and become better in writing. If that translated back to Tumblr then I'm happy and you’ve made my day ><