#on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college? 

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now. 

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.   

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it. 

They’re still not sure if they should let him go. 

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in. 

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves. 

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being. 

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things. 

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.) 

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad. 

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air. 

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to. 

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud. 

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words. 

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil. 

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died. 

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.) 

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”) 

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.) 

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.) 

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core. 

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help. 

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.” 

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.) 

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.) 

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples. 

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself. 

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them. 

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own. 

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop. 

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story. 

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.) 

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest. 

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.” 

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders. 

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.” 

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.” 

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.) 

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face. 

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time. 

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air. 

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise. 

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.  

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. 

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything. 

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call. 

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?” 

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame. 

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth. 

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.” 

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.” 

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs. 

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem. 

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.” 

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.” 

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it. 

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.” 

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth. 

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him. 

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.  

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.) 

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.” 

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin. 

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better. 

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can. 

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?” 

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks. 

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall. 

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.” 

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm. 

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches. 

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood. 

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.” 

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider. 

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise. 

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle. 

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad. 

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham. 

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite. 

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune. 

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple. 

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim. 

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy. 

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes. 

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it. 

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever. 

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state. 

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

[muzzlemouths]

Since you're working on a new fic/au, this might be a good time to ask: how do you start creating a new story? Do you start with an outline? Do you open a word doc and go in guns ablaze? What's the process on that I'm very curious

I sat on this ask for a couple days because I've been struggling with figuring out how to answer it, since the actual answer is that I don't have a process. Not one that sticks, anyway.

For DMD, I had a clear, concise idea in mind for how it would start, how it would end, and a few scenes that needed sorted in between. But the "outline" looks something like that one post:

Most of my fics that end in "?" for the final chapter look like this.

In terms of my oneshots and drabbles, I very rarely have any sort of outline in mind. I'll get an idea for a scene that I want to see, and I'll just start typing until it's finished. Anything over 3k words normally has me writing down some notes for direction, at least.

As for DFtR, due to the nature of that story (what with having three alternate routes) it was pretty much required that I write a full outline, otherwise I would undoubtedly lose track of some details.

My newest au, Easy As Pie (formerly Stardust Hotel) also has a full outline, though it is far more simplified than the one for DFtR, and acts more like guidelines for me to follow with only the necessary/important information established, which still leaves me with room for changes where/when necessary.

For example, here's an excerpt from that outline which has the main bullet point (What that scene is "About") and then a brief description of the room underneath that I can use as a descriptor, while writing everything else around it. That is, the dated appearance of the room is the main focus, and everything else that occurs in this scene will be written as a secondary focus.

Occasionally I'll also include brief phrases/conversation just to ensure that said lines make it into the fic, and so I don't lose track of what is meant to be happening in that moment. Those bits normally look pretty silly (at least to me). Here's one of them!

And that's my process! It's kind of a mess, but it works for me, so that's all that matters haha

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 3

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; will eventually contain very graphic descriptions of smut;

Chapter summary: In which Simon’s neighbor gets to work and he ends up with his pants down. Word Count: 1.9k

12.30 pm

How long do I have to be MIA?

His fingers nervously danced around the keyboard, his stomach a pit of anxiety and resentment.

He let his mind wander, running over the events of the last mission: the adrenaline sharpening his senses, his balaclava soaked in sweat and rain, Soap yelling out in warning, a stray bullet piercing his thigh so quickly he had barely noticed it until the blood loss caused him to collapse in the muddy floor. A shiver went down his spine as he recollected the familiar sensation of having metal cutting down his flesh, tearing it open only to be restitched moments later.

His eyes were back on the tiny screen as soon as it lit up.

12.35 pm

Doc’s orders, Lieutenant. You need time off.

Simon sighed deeply in exasperation, running a hand down his face as he threw his phone on the table. He took a long, bitter look at the bloody bandage around his thigh, his sutures still partially torn, but he hadn’t dared to check how bad it was yet. The absence of a structured routine was already getting to him, and he was terrified of his mental well-being once the weeks turned into months of being alone with his thoughts and traumas he had fought so hard to bury.

The knock on the door hardly surprised him, as he had been expecting his groceries, but dreaded the social interaction that was bound to come with it. As he reached for his facemask, the young woman was once again on his doorstep, looking even more disheveled and fatigued than she had been hours before.

She carried two heavy plastics bags in each hand, the dog’s leash entangled on her wrist as his tail wagged furiously.

“You look terrible.” Simon pointed out. “Did ya have to fist fight for the groceries, kid?”

“Oh ha ha” She replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she struggled to hold up the bags. “A little help, please?”

Simon was quick to reach for the groceries, lifting the weight off her hands so easily she seemed embarrassed at having struggled in the first place. He limped back to the kitchen to put them down on the table and froze once he heard her step inside along with him.

“What are ya doing?” He asked coldly as he saw her stare at his leg, stepping closer as if entranced.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” She pointed at his wounded thigh, the blood soaking through his sweatpants.

“Fuckin’ hell” he muttered as he glanced at the dark wet spot growing in the fabric.

“What happened?” His neighbor asked, deep lines of concern in her expression as she tied the dog’s leash to his doorknob.

“Work injury” He grunted as he stumbled to the couch, feeling progressively dizzier as the wound seemed to have reopened completely.

“Christ…Where’d you get deployed to?” He vehemently ignored her curiosity before hissing as she softly pressed the area around the wound with delicate fingers.

Her face reddened under the heavy silence, and as she knelt between his legs to run her uncalled diagnosis, Simon felt the urge to put distance between the two of them. Physical or emotional.

“Confidential” He replied, coldly and she gave a shy nod, an anxious exhale leaving her frame. “And before ya offer, I don’t need ya help.”

“Right…I’m sorry for asking” She purposefully dismissed his last remark. Simon was just about to ask her to leave when she stood up on her own, eyes still focused on his leg as she retreated to the door, grabbing the pup’s leash and taking him away.

Simon stared at the entrance of his residence in confused shock, not expecting her to leave in such a strange manner, leaving his door ajar, nonetheless. But before he could protest, after hearing a wide variety of noise coming from next door, his neighbor was back with a small box in her hands, this time alone, as he heard the dog whine in the distance.

Simon Riley remained quiet, a grumpy glare burning her figure as she put on surgical gloves and placed a small first aid kit on his coffee table.

“My father was in the military too.” She spoke softly as she prepared clean gauze and a topical iodine-based antibiotic. Simon tried to hide his surprise as she gestured to his thigh. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first rodeo with short-tempered men who can’t admit when they need help.”

He observed her in stunned silence, eyes trailing the small scar over her eyebrow, the deep eyebags that settled on top of a slightly freckled complexion. His thoughts were temporarily invaded with images of a small, introverted child who waited anxiously for her father to return home, months on end with no news or the prospect of a stable life. A chipped canine tooth and dimples. Untamed hair and ill-fitting clothes.

When his eyes returned to hers, she was kneeling in front of him once again, awaiting his permission.

“Would you mind pulling your pants down?” She asks, blushing profusely at the request, to which he sighs deeply and sits in silence for a few more seconds before finally giving in. Limbs stiff with discomfort and suspicion, Simon reluctantly pulls the hem of his sweatpants down, lifting his lower back off the couch slightly to pass them over his muscled thighs, exposing a raging-red gash with tore black stitches.

“Look at that” She mumbled disapprovingly. “This could’ve gotten infected.”

She reached for a sterile tweezer to remove the mangled stitches, and the man let her work in peace, not letting out as much as a sigh when the anti-bacterial medicine burned into his open flesh. Her feather-light fingers revealed such care and compassion towards his injury, he was inclined to enjoy her touch on his thigh, not that he’d ever admit that to himself.

Riley Thomas felt her face and neck burning up with embarrassment. Despite her professional laser focus on tending to a wound, just as what was usual at the Vet clinic, her brain wasn’t quite ready to process the size of his muscled flesh, as well as her hands’ proximity to his most sensitive areas. She did her absolute best to avoid letting her gaze linger on anything other than what was strictly necessary, occasionally glancing up at him to make sure he was okay, always finding his gaze focused on the wall, legs stiff, face half covered.

“I might have an anesthetic spray in my flat. You might feel a slight pinch” She grimaced apologetically as she showed him the small needle and sutures, and he shrugged, unbothered.

“Don’ worry about it” he grumbled, despite his paleness, and she swallowed dryly before raising a slightly trembling hand. This was the hard part.

He cocked his head to the right, mocking her.

“What’s the matter doc? Never worked on an animal this big?” He taunted and she huffed, her face as red as a tomato.

 “I usually do this under the right circumstances, that’s all…” Riley explained nervously.

“And I usually like to be taken for dinner before anyone gets my pants off.” He deadpanned and she almost choked on her saliva, her dimples popping up as she laughed whole-heartedly, diffusing any previous tensions.

“There ya go, kid.” He nodded in approval as she expertly prodded the first patch of skin with the needle, her hands now firm and breath steady as she confidently moved about.

Once she finished, having wrapped bandages around the protective gauze on his thigh, she sat back on her heels, removing her gloves with a sigh of relief.

“Regiment?” He suddenly asked and her eyes snapped back to his, startled. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she answered.

“Marines.”

“Yank?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Hmm” He grunted, lost in thought.

A comfortable silence settled between the two as the soldier pulled his blood-stained sweatpants back up and she cleaned up the mess.

“Dead?” He asked plainly and she stilled, fiddling with her fingers for a few seconds, gaze set low. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she gave a proper answer:

“Yes.”

 “KIA?”

“Blue on blue” Riley stood up and turned around quickly, hiding her face from her neighbor’s intense gaze. There was a massive lump in her throat and she forced herself to breathe deeply, etching a smile on her face.

“Where’s your bin?” She changed the subject, interrupting the man’s pensive expression.

“Bottom cupboard, under the sink.” He replied.

She threw away the bloody gauze and plastic wrappers from the equipment, before properly washing her hands on the basin.

“How come your faucet doesn’t leak?” Riley asked in fake outrage and the man blinked slowly.

“Does yours?”

“Everyone’s does in here.”

The man shrugged.

“I can take a look at that later if ya like…” He reluctantly suggested but seemed so uncomfortable by the idea she giggled at his expression and forced politeness.

“It’s alright. My flat is a mess anyway, wouldn’t want you to see it.” She smiled nervously before moving to the grocery bags on top of his table. “Anyway, I got you a rug.” There was a devious expression in Riley’s face as she pulled out the outdoor rug, its pink fibers engrained with the words Live, Laugh, Love. Her neighbor’s abhorred expression and reproachful look made her laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth.

“Thanks. I hate it.” He spoke from the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think I prefer the one covered in shite.”

“It reminded me of you” She still giggled as she set it on the table.

“Because I’m a such a ray of sunshine?”

“Because it’s what you look like you need” She explained “To live, to laugh and to love” She shrugged, two dimples dotting her cheeks.

“People have committed homicide for less.”

“Don’t be ungrateful!” She set her hands on her waist, playfully staring him down. “My housewarming gift was an eviction petition and leaky faucets.”

“Speakin’ of” He bent over to his coffee table, looking around between a few scattered documents until he fished out the petition papers he still hadn’t gotten rid of.

“D’ya have a pen?” He patted his legs as if he was looking for one, and her jaw hung in shock, her hand on her chest in feigned offense.

“You prick!” She grabbed a beer cap from the counter and threw it at his head, which he caught easily and held between his thick fingers.

If Simon wasn’t wearing a facemask, she would’ve noticed the small smile that had plagued his chapped lips. He threw the papers carelessly unto the table and she nodded once, grateful.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Do you need me to put away the groceries before I leave?” She offered, kindly.

“I’m okay.”

“Alright then, you should rest up and eat somethin’ sugary. You’re still a bit too pale.” The young woman advised as she grabbed her purse and her first aid kit, heading for the door.

Just as she was about to close the door behind her, his deep voice spoke from the couch, without turning around to acknowledge her:

“Name’s Simon.”

She froze at the door, trying to contain her happiness.

“I’m Riley.”

She shut the door softly, and he chuckled to himself.

Simon and Riley. Simon Riley.

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you guys are enjoying it and it gives you as much comfort to read it as I get from writing it. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the upcoming parts, and as always any feedback is welcome! Thank you to the people who have taken some time to comment on it <3

[anna-scribbles]

can you share some of your writing/planning process for thirteen? i adore the non-linear format - how do you decide what scenes to put where?

ahh thank you!! idk how much of a defined process I have, but there's definitely a lot of planning that goes into it and i can show you some of that.

i keep all the chapters in one doc organized by month, and then i plan everything out in bullet points in a timeline at the beginning. here i just have october and november as examples bc after december things started to get more detailed/messy

all of the scenes (especially at the beginning) set the stage for things i’ve planned to happen later, or establish something that feels relevant to adrien’s character by the time we meet him in canon. the task of condensing an entire month into about 2-3 scenes has been a bit difficult; i’ve found out that i’m a very present-moment kind of writer so it’s harder for me to describe the passage of, like, weeks of time. so i’ve been pinpointing specific threads of adrien’s story that i want to be sure to tell and choosing scenes from each month that build on that.

i’ve had the idea for this fic in the back of my mind since about 2021 so i’ve had several scenes cemented in my mind, ways i’ve decided things played out, etc. some of the writing process has been building the narrative around those things or figuring out how we get there. that’s what i love about prequels in general, honestly - it’s inevitable where we’re going to end up, but how do we get there?

adrien’s situation, at the moment we meet him in origins, is SO endlessly fascinating to me. he is in the process of doing something reckless and rebellious and bold - running away - against the will of his father, a man he spends the rest of the series struggling with his compulsion to submit to. we find out, via the rest of the show, exactly how difficult it is for adrien to stand up to his father. and yet, in his very first appearance, adrien is running away from him.

how did he get here? what, exactly, pushed him to this point? was this the final escalation of a steady build of rebellious behaviors, or an impulsive breakthrough after one awful day too many? what has this small boy been through in the last year, and why does public school seem to be his only fathomable escape?

and WHY, if his circumstances are so dire as to compell him to rebel so boldly in the first place, does he still throw it away to help the old man in the road? what makes him so kind, when he has everything to lose? what happened? how did he get here?

i’m interested, obviously, in the character of émilie. i think that the hole she leaves in the narrative is a compelling silhouette and i’ve been having a blast trying to pencil in its details. it’s obvious that adrien loved her deeply and had a stronger connection to her than with gabriel. but also, adrien was still shut off from the world while she was alive. he was still, presumably, an exploited child star while she was alive. she was an actress and a mother and died by broken magic and never told her son the truth about any of it. figuring out who i think she was and then how to show that through young adrien’s eyes has been a huge part of planning this story for me.

as far as the twenty three year old adrien sections, those have been less involved as far as planning goes. i only recently mapped out which areas of the house i want him to visit during the different months. i wanted his sections to line up at least thematically, if not physically, where thirteen year old adrien is at in his story. for example, in december twenty three year old adrien cleans out the dining room where thirteen year old adrien was having terrible christmas dinner. and in january they’re both in the garden, etc.

it’s a bit harder to map out twenty three adrien just because it has to also make sense geographically - i can’t have him running back and forth up and down the stairs, let’s be real he doesn’t have the energy for that. i’ve also opened up the agreste mansion page on the miraculous wiki so many times while trying to map this out 💔💔 did you know that apparently there’s a third floor we never see in the show. yeah i have to figure out what to do with that now

ANYWAY long story short: the planning process for thirteen is kind of a mess, but the whole story is built around some central plot points that i knew i wanted to hit from the beginning. the details change a lot (as you can see from the outline above - it’s not quite right) but i keep the end in mind. just have to figure out how we get there.

thank you for asking!! mwah<3

[frostedpuffs]

Hey do you have any advice on how to just…start writing. Like I have so many brilliant ideas that have the potential to be really really good fics but I just can’t write them. As soon as I sit down and open a doc i freeze up and just stare at the cursor and end up with like a word or a key smash. Help?

it sounds like you're getting intimidated by the idea of writing something good rather than just writing. my advice for writing is simply to just WRITE. i know that is easier said than done, but don't let the idea that your first draft has to be perfect intimidate you out of writing! the truth is, no first draft is perfect.

when i write my fics, i usually write the chapters in two to four sittings, smashing my keys and spitting out words on the page without thinking much about what comes out. then i leave the document alone for a day or two and come back to edit. editing is actually how my stories form! i will edit the draft once, then go back and edit it again another day, and then again and again until i have something i feel is worthy to post. now, i am a bit of a perfectionist, so you do not need to edit extensively if you don't feel the draft requires it....but my point is, just write! get some words down. something. anything. it is infinitely easier to go back and edit those words than it is to try and make everything perfect from the beginning

just get something on the page. even bullet points or messy key smashes of thoughts. that way you have something to go off of instead of staring at a page. if you have a fear of writing, it won't be solved by avoiding writing

that's always what my advice will be when i get these sorts of questions. if you're scared of writing, do it anyway. write scared. it'll get less scary the more you do it. i promise :) good luck

[senblades]

Tell us about the planning doc!!!

thank you very much for indulging me HAHA

So I started writing the planning doc like. When I really shouldn't have LMAO- I wasn't busy right then, but I was absolutely about to be. Oh well! What's done is done.

The planning doc is, essentially, a full outline of all the plot of fftsr, told exclusively in dumb jokes and memes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Or, well, more accurately, a dumping ground for all my ideas in chronological order, marked with dates and some (emphasis on SOME lmao) of the confidant rank ups for Akechi and Ren.

I'll share some of the outline already written in chapters to get my point across: (UH MAJOR AND MINOR SPOILORS FOR FAITH FOR THE SECOND RUN- earlier chapters, mostly)

As you can see, not everything from the doc makes the cut. Sometimes things just don't work anymore, or I can't quite find a place to shoehorn it. I'm pretty sure a line showing how Sumire was struggling without a team never made it into the chapter- or, if it did, it was so negligible that it doesn't even matter.

Plus, I definitely hadn't figured out all the scene-by-scene POV's by that point. The "April 18" bullet point implies that scene might have taken place from Sumire's POV, but the final chapter actually has it as Ren's.

I also put all my Metaverse powerpoint slide intermittently as they become relavent. I'm not actually sure if this explanation ever made it into a chapter... I think Akechi might have implied it? But I don't think it was ever spelled out, since I couldn't find a smooth way to do it. Oh well! Here it is now!

There's also outlines of character conversations and motivations, as expected. The level of detail within the planning doc is VERY uh. Well, it's dependant on a lot of things. There are some major beats that I just hadn't thought of until writing the actual chapters, but some of the character-related convos that are more centred to the plot got written down pre-writing chapter 1

From memory, I think the above scene also changed slightly in the final fic. Sometimes what I write as character motivations in the planning doc ends up being VERY DIFFERENT by the time I get to the actual chapter. And, sometimes, the characters just run away with a scene HAHA

Speaking of character convos, some of my jokes in the planning doc made it, almost word for word, into the fic's chapters. Akechi hysterically wondering if Rank 3 is the "deepest darkest secrets" Rank Up is something that I wanted to immortalise lmao

As you can also see, though, not all of the confidant rank-ups were planned- Magician rank 2 is implied, but I didn't actually know what it was going to be at the time.

And then there's the confidants I didn't have planned at ALL:

(UH SPOILERS UP UNTIL CHAPTER 46)

The Tower and the Aeon are the worst offenders of this: I retroactivaly added the Aeon into the planning doc- an easy feat, since it coincides with the Justice, but just know that it absolutely wasn't there originally lmao. The Aeon came about in two stages, if I'm remembering correctly- I wrote the dream sequence where Ren didn't remember shit, but some vision of Crow was there and did remember, pretty much on a whim, and then thought "okay what if that kept happening though"

I think that descision was one of the best things I could have done lmao- it made October third MUCH more exciting to write (and, I assume, to read)... (originally Metatron was not a factor in the boys remembering- just some annoying headaches and visions. Shadow Maruki was also a last-second addition! While Ren was off galivanting with Crow, I wanted to give Goro something interesting to do as well. So! Impromptu therapy session)

Now the Tower... I did have some. uh. Plans, for cognitive Akechi right from the start; I can't remember my exact thought process for when I started cooking for this confidant, but I think I saw a comment on Throw Away Your Mask explaining why the Tower was particularly apt for the character it's used for in that fic, and thought "wait I can cook with this". or something HAHA I can't quite remember. (I was also VERY MUCH inspired by Marigolds and A Tale of Two Tricksters for all of that... (love those fics you should read them if you haven't))

All of the PT's rank ups are missing from the planning doc, too. I knew I wanted to have all of them as confidants, but I had no idea what their arcana was going to be, or when those confidants would start or rank up.

I unfortuantly can't share some of my best jokes from the planning doc, since I'm joking about MAJOR SPOILERS from future chapters HA

ty very much for letting me gush lmao <3 <3 <3

[yourtearsaremyink]

It's Just This Once

Chapter 1

Hey everyone! This is my first post. This work is finished but I will be uploading the chapters weekly. (I don't really know how Tumblr works so if y'all have suggestions or tips let me know)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Not many. Bucky and his PTSD, my life choices to write this, nightmares, Bucky's regret and self hatred. Idk. There's not even language in this thing its mostly fluff.

Summary: Y/N is an Avenger, she has healing powers and uses them to patch up the rest of the team. Bucky never asks her to use her healing powers on him, except once.

Chapter Word Count: 1,912

Chapter 1: Take the Pain Away

Y/N was working in her little corner of the medical wing of the newly built Avengers Compound. All was right in her little world, well as right as her world could be since reappearing after a five year absence. 

Everyone was trying their hardest to go back to normal but adapting to a life without Steve, Tony, and Natasha was far from it. Shortly before Tony and Steve's fallout, Y/N was recruited by Fury to join the Avengers Initiative. He had somehow figured out she was an enhanced and convinced her to join the team. She had hid her abilities so well in the past she had no idea how a man she had never met before found out about them. Y/N had the extraordinary ability to heal others, it had taken an insane amount of time, energy, and focus to master her powers. With the help of Wanda she had also been able to unlock another talent. She had intuition that was insanely on point so she could guide her teammates on their missions. Natasha had taught her some martial arts moves and Steve taught her how to protect herself in a fight. Y/N soon became part of the family and finally found a place where she belonged, but after a few billion people came back from nothingness, her family seemed to narrow down. She had fought in the battle against Thanos and tried, had really tried, to heal Tony with her powers but in the end it wasn't enough. She couldn't help but feel a little responsible for his death. When the battle was over and Steve left to be with the love of his life, he left so many friends behind. If Y/N couldn't heal Tony's physical wounds, maybe she could heal the emotional wounds he and Steve left behind. 

Shortly after the battle she became close with the remaining Avengers. She helped guide Sam on missions as the new Captain America, she comforted Wanda after her little outburst in Westview, she even got to know Bucky a bit more. Sam had convinced him to live at the new Compound with him instead of being alone in an old apartment in Brooklyn. Every so often Sam and Bucky would limp into the med bay in need of healing. She had healed Sam several times and Wanda a few but never Bucky. He always said she shouldn't waist her energy on him, and she always replied with, "It's no trouble at all, it doesn't take that much energy." Bucky would brush it off and say his advanced healing would take care of his injuries in no time. She never really pushed it, considering what he's been through with people messing with his body, it didn't surprise her when he didn't want to be helped.

Today was nothing unusual when Sam came into the med bay with an arm around Bucky and the other around his side. Y/N hopped up from the seat at her desk and began walking to the two men.

"What did you do this time?"

"This idiot took a bullet for me." Bucky spoke up as he helped Sam into a bed.

"Hey don't be mad at me for saving your life." Sam snapped back. He was taking off part of his uniform so Y/N could assess the injury properly.

"I have better healing than you, I would have been just fine." Bucky countered.

"I'll be fine! I have the best healer in the world right here, right doc?" Sam shot a quick smirk at Y/N as she started to heal him. A light purple glow emitted from her hands as she closed the wound on Sam's torso.

"Just because I can heal you in seconds doesn't mean you can be reckless."

Sam's smirk faded as Bucky gave a short "Ha" in victory. Y/N noticed Bucky was holding his left arm with his right and had a few bruises on his face.

"I could always heal you too Bucky if you need it."

"It's fine doll, these bruises will be gone in a couple hours." He said as he gestured to his face. Y/N turned her attention back to Sam as she finished up her work.

"All done." She said as she removed her hands. "Go clean up, Wanda and I are making dinner soon."

She grabbed a cloth and wiped some of the blood off her hands.

"You're the best doc. " Sam gave her a quick hug and headed out with Bucky. As they left she saw how tight the muscles in Bucky's were. With all of the experience Y/N had with healing people, she was able to see how much he was hurting. It could just be the stress of the mission so she didn't think much of it. 

Later that evening while Y/N was cooking with Wanda, she once again noticed Bucky. At this point she couldn't tell if it was just stress or flat out pain. Sam was tapping away at his laptop sending a report on the mission to Fury. He didn't seem to notice the tight expression Bucky was wearing. Bucky was absentmindedly rubbing his left shoulder where metal met flesh, he looked exhausted.

"You good Buck?"

He glanced up at her removing his hand from his shoulder and said,

"Yeah, I'm fine. " with a half hearted smile.

She hoped that a warm meal would help. Y/N loved to cook, especially with Wanda, she loved seeing people's faces when they ate the food she made. Pretty much everyone else was away from the compound so it was just the four of them. Wanda had suggested they make soup since Autumn came out of nowhere and settled in New York. They set the table and listened to Sam talk about the mission he and Bucky had just endured. Bucky let Sam do all the talking for once and kept quite happily enjoying the warm food. The creases in his features slowly melted away as he finished the soup. Once the story was finished and the dining room was cleaned up, everyone said their goodnights and started off to their rooms, all expect Y/N.

"You're not going to sleep?" Wanda had asked when she saw Y/N going towards the elevator instead of her room.

"I have some work left to finish since I was so rudely interrupted earlier." She had turned her head to Sam with a smile.

"Hey don't come at me." He said with his hands up in a surrendering gesture as he walked to his room.

She gave a small laugh, "Goodnight guys." 

Y/N headed down to her lab and picked up where she left off. She was running some lab work on some blood samples when she heard thunder shake the building. It startled her enough for her to nearly drop her test tube. Soon after she heard rain begin to pound on the walls of the Compound. She glanced at the clock as it struck 1:00 am.

"Just a little longer." She whispered as she resumed her work. 

Bucky was sitting in his bed when he heard Thunder boom outside his window. He hadn't slept since coming to his room, too stressed from the mission and in too much pain. He knew the rain was coming, he felt it in his bones, but that didn't make it any less unsettling. He truly felt like an old man knowing rain was coming by the way his prosthetic arm felt. The mission had caused a few unpleasant memories to resurface and that made his mind uneasy. All of that combined together resulted in a dull headache and an unbearable amount of phantom pain in his left arm. His shoulder was throbbing and it felt as if he was being stabbed by a hundred needles where his metal arm occupied where his flesh should be. His breathing was laboured and heavy, he was so close to a panic attack it wasn't even funny. The weather hadn't helped either, it made him feel cold and achey. He tried so hard to keep it together but the pain became too much. He needed relief and there was one person he could think of to help. He hated the idea of Y/N using her healing powers on him when she could use them for something much more valuable. He didn't want to inconvenience her with his pain but it was becoming agonizing. He sat and thought it over for a few more minutes when he finally caved and made his way down to her lab. He stood at the door and sighed,

"It's just this once."

Y/N was just about finished when she heard a small knock at the lab entrance. She got up and walked towards the door, she wasn't expecting to see Bucky when she opened it. He stood with his hand clutching his metal shoulder, his hair was unkempt and he had bags under his eyes.

"Hey, I thought you went to bed. Is everything okay?"

"Uh, not really. I hate to ask you this, especially this late, but-"

Suddenly thunder echoed through the lab and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and his breath began to shake, using his hand to add more pressure to his shoulder.

"My shoulder hurts, and my arm too kinda." He looked down not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Like phantom pain?" She questioned

"Y-yeah, it feels like pins and needles. The vibranium feels heavy."

"Are you asking me to help you?" She asked in disbelief.

"I-if you don't want to that's fine I can manage."

"No, no come in, sit down."

She led him to one of the beds and guided his hand off his shoulder, eager to work on the one person she hadn't helped.

He winced in pain as he moved, his hand letting up the pressure it was omitting on his upper arm.

"Sorry," she stepped back for a second, "I need you to take off your shirt." In the dimly lit lab she could see him blush a little. "It'll be better if I have direct contact to the skin."

He complied, slowly and painfully taking off his blue Henley. She walked around to the side of the bed to begin.

"I'm just going to put my hands on your shoulder, okay?"

He gave a very tight nod and she began. Her hands danced across the mess of scar tissue where metal crept into his skin. She couldn't help but felt bad for what Hydra did to him. His breath hitched but his back slowly became more relaxed. She could feel his heart rate slowing and his breath even out.

"I'm halfway done, are you okay? " she was concerned. She had never been able to do this for Bucky before and didn't know how he'd react.

"Mhmm." he seemed content.

She stopped and moved to his front to place her hands on his collar bone. She tried not to make it too awkward by making eye contact but she glanced up anyway and met his blue eyes. They both quickly looked away and Y/N turned her attention back to his arm. She stopped when she felt she couldn't do anything more to help with the pain.

"Done, does that feel better?"

He immediately brought her in for a hug and whispered a quite,

"Thank you."

She hugged back happily,

"You're welcome."

It gets better I promise. It was originally a one shot but it evolved.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Ooh, 3, 23 and 65 for the fic writer ask game!

Thank you for the ask!

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic:

So when I'm starting a new fic, I usually start out by writing the first chapter/scene or two while the idea is still fresh and exciting in my head. This 1) gives me an idea of whether this is actually an idea I want to commit to (I have many, many, many snippets of fics in my drafts that I started, was really excited about for a couple thousand words, and then fizzled out) and 2) helps me establish things like setting and character dynamics (especially if it's an AU.)

Once I've gotten the first chunk written and have decided if this is actually something I want to write, that's when I outline. My outlines are usually bullet points and normally shift around quite a bit as I'm writing and characters go off in their own directions. Often, the ending of a fic is entirely different than what I originally imagined, so I try to be flexible and let it happen.

As for chapters, I typically try to write from beginning to end, unless I have a particular scene that won't leave me alone or one that's giving me trouble, in which case I may jump around a bit.

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

If you hit a block in a scene you're writing, copy and paste the last few lines you wrote into another doc and try something different. Often, the problem isn't the last line you wrote, but a couple of lines back and reworking or scrapping those lines entirely can rejuvenate a struggling scene.

If that doesn't work, try a different POV! I can't tell you how many times a scene or fic has felt like pulling teeth until I realized I was trying to make this one character's story when it was really another.

And if that doesn't work, you might just need a break!

65. Tell us what you're most looking forward to writing--in your current project, or a future project.

I'm really looking forward to chapter eight and onward of young blood (never get chained)! The next couple of chapters are necessary setup for the second half of the fic, which is why they've been a bit of a slog to write, but we're pretty much going to hit the ground running at the end of chapter 8 and not let up until the end of the fic. I'm excited for all the yelling in the comments :)

I'm also excited for the Crystal-centric fic in the MSI-verse, which I'm hoping to have out sometime in late January/early February. One of the two timelines focuses on Crystal and Edwin's enemy-to-friends dynamic and I'm just a sucker for these two learning to communicate and appreciate each other.

Get to know your fic writer!

[essential-oils234]

Writing 101: Tips and tricks for experienced authors to novice ones, or just a little reading for anyone who wants to learn something new.

Have you ever gotten into a slump where writing feels like a failed career and nothing you write ever seems to turn out well? (I know I have). Maybe you're itching to write something, it's been so long since you've looked at your notebooks of inspiration or google docs of madness. Maybe you just don't know where to start, and it feels like you've failed before you even begun.

Well, I have a few tips that just might remedy that!

(I'm in no way an experienced writer. I've read a lot of books, watched a lot of character analyses on Youtube, but I'm only at the start of my writing journey. So please don't take this to be expert advice and don't feel disheartened if my methods don't work for you. Everyone has a unique style of writing, and it's only through trial-and-error that you can really begin to find yours too.)

So, without further ado, here are some tips and tricks that helped me organize my thoughts and plan out chapters, develop my characters, and resist the call of procrastination.

------

"What do I want from this story?"

It's a question that sounds elusively simple, but it's one that's more tricky to answer. For me, at least, it's hard to pinpoint a few ideas that manage to encapsulate what I want the readers to feel or understand from my story. It's even harder when I try to summarize my thoughts into broad themes/ideas, such as love, compassion, hard work, etc.

I usually start a story on the basis of something really small, and then I work out from there. For example, I'm currently working on a Genshin Impact fic that I only started writing after watching an animatic. An animatic. (The link will be at the end of this post, if you guys want to check it out and show some love to the creator.)

A whole freaking story started on the basis of an animatic that is 1 minute and 41 seconds long. It's kinda crazy how that worked out. But in a way, it makes sense. The biggest creations start from small, simple ideas that slowly grow over time.

What I'm trying to say is: don't disregard those silly little ideas that you think don't hold much importance over trying to figure out the big, important plot. Oftentimes, it's those silly little ideas that make up the big important plot. So I'd advise you to turn to a blank page or start a new google doc and write that question at the top. "What do I want from this story?" Your answers could be anything, from little details like "he goes back to his birthplace to confront his family" or more broad ideas like "they have a conversation about loss and how to cope with that". Bullet points or sentences, whatever you choose, this is your dumping ground for all the stupid ideas you have that might not ever make it into your story. The point of the question is to exercise your mind and get it thinking about the main plot, as well as a helpful organization tool for all those scattered thoughts that don't really fit anywhere else.

2. "What if I can't start writing a story because I just don't have any ideas?"

That is a harder question to answer, since writer's block has a multitude of solutions that work for some people and don't for others. My advice is, keep focusing on the small things, since it essentially forces you to start minimally and branch out from there. Inspiration is all over the internet, and those small ideas can help jumpstart your brain into creating something new. If you see a few posts about 'cottagecore' on Pinterest and that inspires you to write a fantasy story about witches, then go for it! If you read a book and want to write something similar, except with a different ending, go ahead! (Except if you're posting it on the internet, please credit the original creator.)

Don't feel guilty for "stealing someone else's idea" or mad at yourself for "not being able to come up with anything original". We all have to start somewhere, and it's okay if what you write isn't completely novel. (That's what fanfiction is for, after all!)

Oftentimes, our brain puts us in a corner where we convince ourselves that we just can't write anything because we don't have any ideas. Maybe that's true, but the thing about writer's block is that you really won't have any ideas unless you start actively thinking about potential plots or characters. Searching up 'writing prompts' on Tumblr will no doubt feed you with a slew of interesting ideas that you can build off from there, and Pinterest is a gold-mine of creativity. The main thing, of course, is to have fun in the process. In the end, the person who you're really writing for is yourself.

3. "Okay, I have a few ideas and plot points, but what about organizing it? How do I go about organizing a multi-chapter story?"

This question is from people who are mainly like me, who like organizing their chapters out before they actually write them. It's good to have a reference point to come back to if you take a writing hiatus, and it's just nice having everything jotted down somewhere I can easily find.

I'm not going to get too specific here, since everyone has their own way of writing notes, but after I have a bunch of main ideas that more or less make up the whole plot, I start narrowing those ideas down into chapters. I have sections of bullet-points for each chapter, which have general ideas that aren't too specific, since I tend to figure out the specifics as I'm writing. (ex. He has a flashback that shows his past before switching back to the present) If you're a person who's pretty gung-ho about these things, you might lean towards the idea of "figuring it out as you go along". If you're super organizational, your chapter notes might go down to the most minute detail before you actually start writing.

I also have a few 'braindump' sections that are pretty much like the "What do I want from this story?" notes, except they're a bit more relevant to the plot instead of just random details and dialogue I want to insert sooner or later. I also have sections where I write about important themes in my story that require further elaboration (ex. the concept of morality, what it means to be human, etc.) It's important to flesh out these ideas beforehand so you have a good idea of how to show these underlying themes in your actual story.

Last but not least, please, please, please flesh out your characters before you start writing a story. It's honestly my least favorite part of writing, but it's incredibly important because your characters are what makes up your story. A good story is known from it's good characters. I, personally, create lists of traits/flaws for my main characters so I can, as a writer, understand them better and know how to show their personalities in writing. I also write lists of attributes before and after they go through ✨character development✨ so I can understand how they've changed and grown and start formulating ideas on how to show that in my writing.

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So, we've reached the end! Yay, that took way too long and I didn't even get to talk about procrastination!!🎉🎉 Hopefully, this will not be the first and last 'Writing 101', since there's plenty more I'd like to talk about and plenty more to learn. If you have any questions or anything you want me to talk about next, don't hesitate to drop a comment or ask me anything! I'll try to answer to the best of my abilities. If you liked this post, please leave a like or a comment. It's really motivating and just feels great to know if people like my content.

(Here's the link to the animatic I mentioned earlier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REBxGWSMRn4. It's been a huge source of inspiration for my writing and art, and the person who made it is insanely talented. If you're into Genshin Impact or just want to see some good art, go check out their other animations and comment/leave a like!)

I hope your writing journey is nothing short of spectacular and creatively amazing, and I'll see you in the next one!

[breannasfluff]

Hey, I'm actually curious because I just recently started to actually plan out my fics a bit better. How do you plan out your fics? Go into as much detail as you would like, I am genuinely curious

I had to wait to answer this till I could pull my docs. I'll use Eldritch as an example because it's the one I planned the most.

I've got two word docs of notes and one physical paper floating around. I started with writing notes down on paper, then moved them into word. Here's an example:

There's a lot of pages of random notes like that. Some of them changed, some weren't used.

I have character notes which I've dropped in Zeldas because sharing Wild's would be spoilers. I didn't end up using Zelda's, really.

I had a table of info on the Chain. Some of this we've seen, some of it got dropped when I shortened the storyline.

I listed out the order of people I knew I wanted, or roughly

I also bullet pointed out some main storyline things

Essentially, it's a big brain dump document that I now needed to wrangle into something more useful. I switch to my timeline document.

I start writing out bullet points of what each chapter-ish should be. This can also be a free-flow writing and then you pull it apart later. I've done this outlining for a long fic before so I knew how I wanted to break it up.

I crossed them out as I finished the chapters. This was laid out in detail to the midpoint. When I hit the break, I outlined the second half. I knew from the start where I wanted the story to end. I decided that as soon as I knew I wanted to continue Eldritch past the first Eldritch Echoes. That will, hopefully, help the whole thing feel cohesive despite stretching so long. Some little hints could be hidden right up front.

And then it's just 6 pages of that, haha, plotting out chapters. Some things were combined later, some pulled apart, depending on how it flowed.

After that, writing! Hope it helps :)

[aadmelioraa]

Hi! I was just wondering, what is the difference for you between the Scrivener categories you use? What makes a certain section redrafted vs revised vs punched up vs polished? Thank you!

Hey!! I am more than happy to elaborate on that post. Here are the scene (or chapter) draft categories I use via the "Label" function in Scrivener, and what each category means to me:

To Write. Any scene that I haven't fully drafted, ranging from an idea in my head to a few bullet points to a scene that doesn't yet have a beginning, middle, and end. Lots of ellipses and all caps notes to myself [ADD CONVERSATION WHERE X AND Y ARGUE ABOUT DINNER PLANS] at this stage. I am a planner-pantser hybrid—I usually start writing without a real outline, and then create and reshape my outline as I continue writing new scenes, the outline evolves as my draft evolves and vice versa. 

Drafted. I have written a full version of the scene. It has a beginning, middle, and end. I have hit all the major points I want to hit. It's messy, but it's on the page. These scenes comprise the Rough Draft.

Redrafted. At this stage, I follow Matt Bell's "Rewrite Don't Revise" advice in Refuse to Be Done (highly recommend this craft book!). Once I have a Rough Draft version of the project (the entire book has a beginning, middle, end, and enough essential connective tissue scenes to prop it up), I print that off* and open a fresh Scrivener file. I hold myself to Matt Bell's no copying and pasting rule, and it's honestly been a game changer mentality for me. I refer to my Rough Draft and my Revision Plan Outline as I create a new draft that is both leaner and more fleshed out as needed. The Revision Plan Outline is the roadmap of the book I wrote (the Rough Draft) spliced with a roadmap of the book I want to write, including new scenes, stronger versions of the scenes I already have, and notes about what needs to be cut. *This is probably obvious, but you don't need to work from a printed copy, you can open your Rough Draft doc side by side with a blank doc if that is more your speed. The important thing is to start with a blank document rather than making revisions to your Rough Draft. It might sound insane, but I've found that it allows me to let go of what I would otherwise struggle to cut, and opens me up creatively to write new material.

Revised. Once I have the fresh, stronger, more intentional version of my scene, I go through and check that it's doing what I need it to do in terms of character work and plot points. It's not only a complete scene in that it begins and ends where I want it to, it's also functioning as part of a whole. 

Punched Up. This is my favorite draft stage in most ways, I just find it really fun and satisfying. My goals are to make sure that the tension is properly threaded, that the emotional beats are landing how and where they need to, that the humor is working, that each character's voice is coming through, that my language is vivid and interesting. 

Polished. Here I am making final cuts and changes, taking things at a line level and evaluating individual word choice. Nitpick city, but ideally in a productive way.

Right now in my current WIP I have an array of scenes at every level in a single Scrivener file. Most of them are Redrafted or above (I already completed a Rough Draft, printed it off, and am working from that and my Revision Plan Outline to create a new version of the book) but there are plenty of scenes in my Revision Plan that didn't exist in the Rough Draft. I will once again shout out @bettsfic and her invaluable developmental insights, you can check out her substack here and read more about her services here.

Anyway, this is what works for me, it definitely won't work for everyone, but hopefully you find something useful here! I will note that you can use the Scrivener "Draft Status" category to function in a similar way as the "Label" category, allowing you to use "Label" to denote POV or something else. Labels are visible in the sidebar (you can find options under "View," and Draft Status shows up in the corkboard view (it's stamped over the notecard for each scene if you select that option).

[lilolilyr]

For "Being Known" (Helena writer, Myka actress): 2 and 3, 6 and/or 7 (whichever you like better, or both), and 9!

Ah, thank you! My longest Bering and Wells fic to date :D

Moodboard & header for the fic, and Here's the ask meme

2. How did you come up with the idea?

It was part of a gift exchange, and my giftee had asked for a pop culture AU, with some fusion prompts for fandoms I didn't know very well - so instead of trying to find out enough about eg Buffy the Vampire Slayer to write a fic in that world, I asked whether a celebrity AU would work, and here we are!

3. Did the idea change at all by the time the fic was complete?

I expanded my initial idea a lot - adding Steve, Leena, Artie, Caturanga, Jane and Amanda, I'm pretty sure initially it was just supposed to be HG and Myka with side characters Claudia and Pete. I don't remember exactly what the plan was and what came later, apart from having the idea of Helena's conflict about wanting to remain anonymous while being passionate about something that could bring her a lot of fame early on...I'll have to see whether I still have my initial draft somewhere and I can add it at the end of the post, I tend to write in messages on telegram and copy paste them to an ao3 draft or word doc once I start editing, so the messages should still be the original first draft.

I think I was unsure whether or not I should add an AU-ified Christina related backstory and work that into part of the reason for Helena's reluctance over fame, I had several ideas about her own childhood, her knowing a child something happened to, or actually writing Christina into her backstory... I went back and forth between Christina being a child star and Helena herself being one, I think in the end I just made Helena one because it worked better for the story though I would have liked to have more Christina backstory, but oh well, kill your darlings.

6. How did you decide what tense and POV(s)to use? / 7. How did you decide what character(s) would narrate the fic?

Honestly, I rarely decide that kind of thing consciously - I guess if you want to write something commercially there are lots of things to consider, but I write for fun and I'll write wherever my ideas bring me. Sometimes I'll notice a scene works better from a different POV and I change it, but usually it just happens one way and then it's fine to leave it as is

In this case I think I immediately knew it would mainly be Helena's POV because it's really her story I wanted to tell.

9. Did you get stuck at any point? How did you get past that?

Claudia! Hah, I mean I didn't get stuck on her, but that I used her to get past difficult scenes, giving Helena a much needed push! Especially near the end, when it comes to Helena accepting the possibility of a relationship between her and Myka.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was fun to talk about :)

.

This is my draft for the fic, the way it was written (in a messenger chat with just myself in it, as I start most fics) in one go, before making any edits at all!

You'll notice a lot of 'xx' markers - because there aren't really any words with that, it's easy to search a text for that later on, so whenever I know I still need to fix something - add a sentence, translate a word, edit bullet points into paragraph, add entire scenes - I write XX to mark it for later.

wip bering and wells author actress AU for anandabrat

Working title The Perfect Warrior

HG (former child actor turned?) writer under pseudonym hiding from fame (bc burned out from kid fame?), slowly getting back into acting, does improv for fun

Myka either star there to help 'learning' amateur actors for xxkomparsen? Or she's a newcomer and HG is back on film?

Claudia's HG's friend, Pete Myka's

ohhh what about Helena's book being verfilmt & Myka main role, HG making sure she won't be overwhelmed..

xxx

xxflashback seven months prior

"H.G., I'm coming in!"

Helena covers her head with a pillow when she hears Claudia Donovan's shouting from the backyard before a well-aimed kick against the old garden door has it fling open.

"Breaking and entering, really?" Helena's muffled voice lets Claudia know where she is. "I would have thought that petty crime is belowxx you."

"Come oooon," Claudia pulls the pillow from her face and Helena is left squinting at the sudden light. "We're going out! A friend of mine has a gallery opening, and there's bound to be a crowd of interesting people there!"

"I can't," Helena grouches. "I have to write, I still haven't finished either of those silly sequels my agents want me to work on."

"Riiight," Claudia nods, juggling the pillow between her hands. "Because that's what you were doing right now. Writing."

"Oh, cut the sarcasm." Helena growls. She is in a bad enough mood without Claudia butting in and making it worse.

"Alright then." Instead of backing down, Claudia throws the pillow onto the bed and, hands on her hips, stares Helena down. "I'll speak xxklartext. You're wasting away here, H.G.! You hate the books you're supposed to write, you refuse to write anything else either, you haven't seen any of our friends in months and now you're getting your groceries delivered so you don't even have to leave the house? That's the final straw!"

"Who snitched on me," Helena xx Leena?sbcanonordontmention

"It'll be good for you," Claudia insists. "You can dazzle everyone with your Wikipedia brain, and maybe you'll meet a xxverleger who wants to publish one of your weirder novellas. Come on, get up. get up, if not for yourself then do it for me because there's no way I'll go schmooze with the rich and famous all on my own!"

"I still cannot believe you managed to talk me into this," Helena sighs, looking at the xx and bustle around her.

"I'm up, I'm up," Helena sighs and avoidsxxausweichen Claudia's attempt to pull her from the bed by sitting up. "Alright, what exactly is this opening we're going to?"

...

Laughing, herxxfriend Claudia bumps their elbows together. "You better believe it, there's no getting out of it now! And this will be good for you! xx I'm happy for you, H.G., this is a dream come true!" She twirls around without missing a step, taking it all in.

"The fact that it makes you xxgoodposition takes no part in it, I'm sure." Helena deflects. She doesn't want to admit that Claudia is right and she is thrilled to have her characters coming to life for the big screen - nor does she want it known that, despite all the negotiations and concessions on side of the production studio, she is still afraid that she won't recognise the world she created once the movie is done. Will they do justice to the worlds of trees and cogwheels, to the unseeing creator and the warrior with the unruly hair? Will they listen to Helena when she has suggestions, will the stick to the details from the book, will it even be possible to transfer it to the new medium?

This and more goes through Helena's mind as she lets Claudia drag her along over the big parking lot and storage area, past trucks with equipment and the xxvans for cast and crew towards the xxhall.

first time sees Myka - the perfect xxcharactername warrior.

xx looks after her xx her hair xx in the wind, a sharp edge to her big brown eyes that negates anything childish about their shape, xx stepping out of the camper

xx C hey, we're not here to flirt! Can't believe I need to say that to you, you're like, the least likely person xx xx pretty girl

xx not what - I mean yes beautiful, but not what that wasabout -

xx oh /beauuutiful

xx shut up Donovan

xx later sees Myka in makeup all *sideeye* what did you do to my xxcharactername

argument - need makeup! Looks silly on camera without, different than irl!

HG: well if so, just makeup that makes it look decent with the lights and closeups, NOT that kind of obvious eye makeup, and who had the idea that a warrior in a cyberpunk dystopia would need a bold red lip? Or shaved pits?

xx Myka uncomfortable, thinks she has done something wrong, especially when sent back out in the middle of the scene, doesn't notice the argument

co-star Pete tries to comfort her

xxMyka thinks maybe this was bad idea, should quit

xx HG will Not lose my warrior!

(xx Myka in trouble

xx HG kann wen zusammenscheißen, makes sure Myka's fine)

xx from then on Helena trying to keep an eye on Myka, asks how she's dealing with the pressure, what her plans are for if she'll be famous after this project, whether she has a good agent to protect her interests, etc... (eg where u live? city apartment...

H:security? M:none?? H:myself, nature away from most people M: wish could affort...)

Myka: know you're just doing this because you think I'm a good fit for the character and you don't want it to be ruined by me quitting, but I still really appreciate

HG: what?? No, am doing this - well, would for everyone! Know how it is, when I was a kid... nevermind. But, care about you too

Myka finds out why HG is so wary about fame

go to premiere together - "don't have to hold a speech, don't even have to tell anyone who you are, but at least go as my date?"

As usual, I had a first scene instantly in my head, then started thinking quicker than I could write and had to note down bullet points so I wouldn't forget anything xD

Again, thanks for the ask :)

[paunchsalazar]

hey so I really enjoyed your kyokao longfic and i was wondering what the writing process was like since im planning on writing a fanfic (first time).

did you plan anything with an outline? or did you wing it?

anyways thanks in advance (and btw im doing another reread of your fic, it's so narratively satisfying!!)

omg woah first!!! thank you so much!!! that is seriously the most touching thing to possibly hear T-T

This is going to be such a long-winded answer but I definitely did not wing it!!! apologies for the long post but I love to see behind the curtain and think about process so...

That fic was my first multi-chapter story and waaaay longer than anything else I’ve ever made… so I kinda had no idea where to start. I wanted to make a rough outline to see if it was even feasible - was there a beginning, middle, and end? Even a super hazy one? before jumping in and writing a whole long project… (I had no idea how long it would be, but knew it was definitely longer than a few thousand words.)

it started as a timeline - trying to keep track of all the canon events via bonus chapters and sketches, then working to fill in the gaps with headcanons. Even though Ouran is silly, by the end they’re operating within a normal timeline lol….

After filling out a lot of the timeline with headcanons then organizing them in chronological order.. started to see the plot/opportunities for change - in the characters, their relationships, the state of their lives - especially with school, moving, etc. all of the above

I tried to make myself a guide to keep organized lol (totally unnecessary, but helped me keep track of things!)

the timeline started as bullet points - if there are any settings or occasions that would justify an “episode” - major holidays, group trip, etc. At least with Ouran, I tried to play around with the settings - The host club has unlimited resources which is a rare luxury… but wanted to keep in the realm of what they might do + think about fancy rich people things they hadn’t yet covered “on screen”

From there, it went to sub-bullet points, then trying to nail down each beat I'd want to cover - through narration or dialogue

It's hard to pin it down but sometimes certain moments - a visual, an exchange of dialogue - play out really clearly in my head… so would occasionally find that moment and then reverse engineer what would lead to that, then follow the thread to where it would potentially go…

Usually went in chronological order or at least made a list of beats all the way through, but then would jump back and forth to fix little things or add in details I realized needed to move sooner/be foreshadowed…

Outline/timeline > beats > rough draft > going line by line to edit + then hopping around to fix things accordingly

I had a lot of different docs... just because they get so big

+ I like to put unfinished things in blue (or any color, I like blue because red feels more negative to me lol) and then change them to black when they feel "locked" or at least like they're functioning. It helps me keep track of how much is left to do + makes it easier to find spots that need attention!

+ also like to have a "cutting room" document for everything I cut/don't know where to put/is redundant in case I want to use it for later, or even just to try to see what I was going for!! I've found it to come in handy down the line

Here are some examples of the WIP bullet points/blurbs lol... I also like to make "off-screen" notes to myself just to keep in mind, I did have a friend beta-reading some parts, but kinda do this for myself anyway just to keep it in mind.

From there it was just writing and rewriting... I usually go through a scene from the beginning and read until something trips me up, try to either fix it or make note of what the intention was and then go on to the next beat. I went chapter by chapter, in order, and tried to get each locked before going on to the next one.

Should also note that this fic took me a long time!! And I wasn't working on it with a super set schedule. It was purely for fun, so I just worked on it when I felt like it (and as it grew, I found myself wanting to work on it more and more! so it was exciting more than a chore).

I talked to friends about it, even if just kinda laughing about headcanons or jokes, and had a few people read through the beats and a few scenes to see if it flowed/if the dialogue sounded in character!

+ I did a lot of revisiting the source material or even just watching a clip when I felt like I was losing their voices. Idk if it was that successful... but it helped to keep them in mind!!

Anyway... I can only speak for what works for me! and I think a lot of these habits are coming from my storyboarding workflow.

Writing is so personal and there is bound to be trial and error!! I hope that you have so much fun writing, whatever approach you take!!!!!

Also what thank you so much for reading my fic at all and for your kindness!! If you ever publish your fic, please send me a link!!! even if it is ages from now!!!!!

[asamis-jodhpurs]

how do you organize your notes for something as large as BWtR? i remember u saying they were like 10k words but im curious abt what that looks like!

Aaaaaaaaa oh my gosh! Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble about this, I love talking about the outline, I owe you my life.

Okay so basically the last time I was possessed by The Fatal Urge To Write a Longfic I did not outline it in the slightest, and so I wound up with the last chapter being two parts, with the second part alone being 16k words. The last five chapters took me over a year to write. I did not want that to happen again, so I felt the fatal urge and I forced myself to sum it up and split that summary into sections that could fit into chapters of usually less than 10k words.

So to start with I spent the first weekend of July 2023 writing down everything that happened in the fic in bulletpoints chapter by chapter, in a word doc titled "Dion Brainrot Hours." At the end of it, I wrote up a little ledger of all the OCs I thought I'd need to mortar together different scenes in the plot.

But like, as I write things change a lot - Charles became a totally different guy, for example - so at the top of each act, I go in and flesh out the bullet points in more detail, trying to get as close to scene-by-scene as possible and adding in any phrases or images or lines of dialogue that are actively haunting me.

And then finally, before I start each new chapter (except for the ones where the events are literally seared into my brain, like 23-26 and 28-29), I go in and review the scenes and figure out how to fit them together, and note where the POV switches will happen if I haven't already.

I did very much growl and grumble and gnash my teeth like an animal and mutter "I hate outlining" for the first six hours and then I loosened up and started having fun with it and now I remember it positively lol.

Anyway as I got further with the outline I got more conversational and I am using this ask as an excuse to post some of the sillier excerpts from it (under a Read More because I picked too many):

And Finally, in I guess kind of a sneak preview for the chapter that will go up in the next week:

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

So that's a big follower influx 0_0

I'm assuming most of you are here from the Roy and Jason snippet I posted from the ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption WIP. As such I figure now is as good of a time as any to post an update on the fic.

I have completed the first 3 chapters. I'm aiming for each chapter to be between 3500-5000 words. The current word count on the doc is 12,825. Chapter 1 includes the writing for the AU I did under the original post while the Roy and Jason snippet is from chapter 3.

Another 3 chapters are outlined in bullet point lists, but I have yet to complete an outline for the rest. I still want to include a lot of stuff, but I need to find a good way to link it all together. I also have no idea how I want to end it yet but uh... I'm hoping that will come to me as I go. I have no idea what the final chapter count will be.

College finals are just around the corner so I don't know how much more writing I'll get done in the next few weeks. I'm hoping that I'll be able to get another few thousand words on the doc over the course of winter break but I will be traveling. My hope is that the flights will force me to get more finished for lack of anything else to do.

[morning-sun-brah]

Do you have any tips for writing stories? I wanna write a fanfic and I know what it’s about too, but I have no idea what to do.

I'm so so sorry that it's taken me so long to respond to this! I'm either on here once a day, or I'm gone for a month, and there is no in-between. 😭😅

As for writing tips! I have some of the lamest advice and I apologize in advance lol.

Firstly, and I know this is so generic so forgive me, just write! I know there can be a lot of pressure trying to figure out how to begin a story, but I just open a doc and start typing. I'll make a little outline (nothing crazy, just bullet points in chronological order- but I know ppl who keep spreadsheets), and then I start typing. If the way it starts feels clunky, later, I'll go back and add a paragraph or re-word it, but getting started is the more important part. That way, you have something to build on.

Also, read! I know this is more generic advice, but so much inspiration can happen when reading someone else's works. It can help with flow and provide good examples on how to begin a new fic.

Some advice I have a hard time following is also to take your time. Write the chapter, and then sit on it. Run it through Grammarly. Have a beta look at it. Give it a couple days or even weeks to marinate. Start the next chapter. You sometimes think of other things to add, that help with foreshadowing. Or little mistakes you'll catch that you might not have noticed at first. Or even whole scenes you want to add that you thought of while you were in the shower lol.

Other than that, I can only tell you some of the things I do. I keep a notes app full of words and phrases I like, to remember later. I have lots of resources I use (thesaurus.com, writers' blogs, that kind of thing), and I try and think about how I would like something to sound/what I want to say before I start typing. The car is a great place to just be alone and think about things. If FBI has me wire tapped they hear me having the most unhinged conversations with myself.

But literally starting a fic can be such a hurdle and it's hard to do sometimes. But just typing, from any point, can be a good start, and then going back later to add an intro. Either a scene setting, or setting up the tone of the story, or lore, are all good ways to start.

I hope this is helpful in some small way, and I also wish you all sorts of luck!! Let me know if you do end up posting a fic- I'd love to read it!

Also!! Here are some links that might be helpful!