#saw a snippet of what I wrote for this in my notebook

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Many many ideas ago, I had an idea I started writing but never posted, and now I have no idea where I was planning to take it, but BASICALLY.

Before Kara's confession of her identity, but after Lex tells Lena the truth, Lena is still in the processing period where she's trying to work out how she feels about it, besides the overwhelming hurt.

When she's abducted for several days, Lena's not totally concerned. Now knowing who Kara is, Lena knows she's going to be Supergirl. It's only a matter of when.

Even so, several days being bound to a chair would wear down anyone. She's been treated relatively well, all things considered, but that doesn't mean she isn't exhausted, and generally just done by the time Supergirl shows up and frees her.

Kara, of course, is beside herself with worry, and frets over Lena. Are you harmed, did they hurt you, do you need medical attention...

"I'm fine," Lena says curtly.

But Kara doesn't let up, and Lena just snaps.

"Please, Kara, just take me home."

Supergirl finally relents, and it kills Lena when her arms open to bring her close, as though flying her home were the most natural thing in the world.

Then it clicks.

Supergirl's freezes for the faintest of heartbeats, before her eyes go wide with horror. But as she opens her mouth to speak, Lena just can't.

"Please. I'm tired. I just want to go home."

Lena can see the conflict in Kara's eyes, mingling with the same heartbreak that Lena's been struggling with for months.

Because that's the true cruelty of Lex's reveal, isn't it, Lena muses.

It's not just that he revealed Kara for a fraud-- it's that he stole Kara's chance to confess it herself.

Something that could have been so precious, so intimate, gone with a snap of his fingers.

In the end, Kara silently gathers Lena up and delivers her to the balcony of Lena's apartment. Only then, once Lena is safely out of her arms and standing on her own two feet does Kara try again to speak.

"Lena, I--"

The snick of Lena's balcony door sliding shut behind her mutes whatever Kara is about to say. Lena moves towards the bathroom, ready for a long shower.

She shuts the living room lights off behind her, and doesn't give the balcony so much as a second glance.

[cherrygorilla]

Ok, so you may or may not have inspired me with your Outsiders post to interrupt my usually sparse story post schedule and indulge in my own obsession with a certain musical. And as chaotic and random as it sounds, I promise it is good haha. But even if you disagree, please just let me vent and get all this out of my brain so that I can go back to writing the next part of TMM 😂

Alright, I've loved Starlight Express ever since I saw it when I was around... 7 or 8, maybe? It used to be my favourite show for years, and (fun fact) it was actually how I found out about fanfiction haha. I never wrote anything properly for the show, just like one or two pages in a random notebook when I was, idk 11 ? But it was around that time that TBM then came out, which I was obviously more drawn to writing-wise - I suppose because it gave me more freedom with stories and characters, since this show is just...you know...about trains lol.

And from the few times I've mentioned it before, I know it probably sounds insane, but if you just suspend your disbelief and accept it for what it is (a bunch of trains singing and falling in love), it is a lot of fun hahaha. I like to think of it like a mix between Cats and Cinderella, but the basic gist of the story, so you can have at least somewhat of an idea of what's going on lol, is that Control (a little kid - I don't think they have a name, they're literally just known as Control) sneaks out of bed one night to hold this big race between all his toy trains to find out who is the best - so the story essentially takes place within his imagination, as all the trains come to life to tell the story. It's like Cats in the regard that most of the first act is everyone kind of introducing themselves in turn. There's Greaseball, the champion diesel train, Rusty, the little steam engine who wants to race with the big trains, and Electra, the electric engine of the future - and a bunch of other trains and coaches, but I won't bore you with all that (just yet 😉). So, to cut a long story short, it's basically a big competition between those three main trains to see who's fastest, with Rusty being the obvious underdog, and hence the centre of the Cinderella story element.

The plot itself is nothing groundbreaking, and neither are the songs tbh, but it's just such a fun show that I can't help but love it anyway. I mean come on, the whole thing's done on roller skates - that's pretty damn cool! And although I've loved it for years, it had taken quite a backseat for a while, but the recent revival that has recently opened in London has really reignited my obsession with it all over again 😆 Because how do you make my favourite pairing in the whole show even more iconic? ...you turn them into lesbians 😎 Plus the costumes were all reimagined by Gabriella Slade, who did the costumes for Six, and they look SO cool!

Now, a big part of why I loved your Outsiders post so much was all the story ideas/similarities for characters you included, but I can't really do that here because (once again)... they're all trains, and none of them are really that deep or serious anyway. BUT, what I did think might be fun, would be going through who I think each of our characters would be good at playing if they were (for some bizarre reason) to ever put on the show - because I do have some strong opinions about that haha. And, as a little bonus, I have written some little random one-off story snippets that are Starlight Express adjacent that I'll throw in at the end lol - more as a reward for you wading through all my nonsense than anything tbh. But they were fun to write too haha.

So yeah, welcome to the insane workings of my brain - and pull up a chair; this could take a while 😅

Ok, I think the best place to start would be with going through the characters in the show and, like I said, matching them up with potential characters of ours I think would be good at playing them. I'll sort of elaborate on 'why' for each one too to help keep things entertaining from an outside perspective lol - and hopefully to help back up my arguments for each lmao. Because, let's face it, none of our characters have particularly...train-like characteristics. 😂

First up we've got Rusty, who's essentially the show's main character. Most of the conflict in the show centres around him; the 'better' trains all totally disregard him, a lot of the coaches tease him, and although he loves Pearl, she's more interested in the newer, more exciting trains than boring, quiet little Rusty. BUT, as with all Cinderella stories, he comes out on top in the end; he wins the race (I would say spoiler alert, but it's also like...duh 🙄😂) and gets his dream girl. He's a really likeable underdog character throughout the story though, and he does put up a good fight to come out victorious, which I appreciate - he doesn't just lay down and let everyone walk (well, roll 😉) all over him.

Now, who do I think would be good to play Rusty? Well, as I mention later on in the one-shots, and have potentially mentioned elsewhere too, I weirdly feel like Riven would really like the show. Maybe he has some childhood nostalgia linked to it like I do - maybe his dad took him to see it when he was younger since it involves skating? I don't know all the details, but something within me tells me Riven would like this show lmao. And so, in the spin-off scenario where our characters put on this show (which is the one I'll always lead with in these things), I think he'd want to take a leading role in the directing side of it - and probably spear-headed the campaign for putting it on in the first place tbh haha. BUT, I feel like a lot of people at Camp (because yes, I think they'd do this at Camp; I don't know when else they would all want to put on a show like this lmao) would think the whole thing was an insane idea, and wouldn't want anything to do with it (because it kind of is an insane idea). SO, I think that Riven would not only end up directing most of the show, I also think he'd have to step into Rusty's skates - which wouldn't be as daunting as he initially expected since he knows the show so well already. Plus, besides the backstory element, I just think he'd be a really cute Rusty; his auburn hair is perfect for it, he's a quietly determined guy, and he's an experienced skater, so he'd have no trouble taking on such a demanding role in terms of the skating.

So yeah, Riven would be my first pick. BUT, this new revival of the show that's being performed in London is playing Rusty and Pearl (his love interest, who we'll get to in a minute) in a much more innocent, shy way - and it's freaking adorable. And I think if we were leaning into more of that version of the show, Royce would make a brilliant Rusty if Vivien could be his Pearl. I don't know how likely he'd be to take on another leading role after being thrown into Hairspray like he was in your last Camp Wanamaker story, especially one that required him to be on roller skates the entire time, but I think he'd really nail it with that more innocent, down-trodden interpretation of the character.

But if everyone was willingly getting involved in the show, and they wanted to lean more into the old-school portrayal of Rusty and Pearl, that feels a little older, and more heavily romantically driven, then I feel like Miles and Carrie make SO much sense for those parts. The whole 'chasing after a girl you think is out of your league' thing has both Miles and Rusty written all over, and I think Miles would, again, play that fluctuating determination and defeat really well. Plus, I know this doesn't really mean anything, but his struggles for money do parallel Rusty being this rundown, tattered, but persistent little steam train pretty well... 😂

Ok, now we'll move onto Pearl. Pearl is the newest coach in the little kid's collection, and is therefore the most sought-after racing partner (since all the trains need to race with a coach - idk why, it's just part of the story I suppose lol). Sometimes she's a 'first class' coach, sometimes she's an 'observation car', it doesn't really matter - all that matters is that all the trains want to race with her, and although she has a soft spot for Rusty, who has loved her all along, she gets seduced by the flashiness of his competitors, and it takes her almost getting wrecked in the final race for her to see sense. She can be a little naive sometimes, or will sometimes just blatantly play the field (depending on how you play her), but her heart is always in the right place, which is what still makes her so likeable.

Again, for Pearl I've got multiple options for who could play her, but I'll start with Juliet. The new all-white version of Pearl's costume that they use in the current Bochum production just screams Juliet to me: that sleek sophistication and quiet confidence, but also a touch of flirty, girly charm is so her! And I think she'd make a great leading lady - which is why she's my pick for that spin-off scenario version of the show. Pearl has some great songs, which would be perfect for Juliet to show off more of her voice, with her wanting to be a singer eventually, and with you hinting at Riven and Juliet maybe having a little bit of a fling or something in your last STDP post, having them play the two leads here seems like a perfect fit for them! Rusty thinking Pearl's way out of his league, but Pearl falling for his kindness and good heart anyway - that just screams Riven and Juliet to me! Pearl also has a strong sisterhood-type friendship with the other coaches, which I think really works for Juliet too. And Pearl does try to stand up for what she thinks is right when the bigger trains start taking the competition a little too far - so I think Juliet could bring a great deal of her own strength to her portrayal of the character as well.

Now, my second choice for Pearl, links with the second choice for Rusty above, which is, obviously Vivien. I feel like the new London revival Pearl was MADE for Vivien to play; the whole space-y vibes of the show, the fact that they made her purple, and the fact that they made her this happy little ball of excitement, with a touch more innocence than previous Pearls - she's perfect for Vivien. And the awkwardly adorable, friends-to-lovers arc Rusty and Pearl have in this new revival was practically written for Royce and Vivien lmao - I just think they'd be able to play them brilliantly. And again, like with Juliet, I think Vivien's fiestiness would allow her to bring a lot of strength and determination to Pearl's character that isn't always there - she can sometimes be played quite airy and 'damsel-in-distress-like', but I think Vivien would really ground her.

And my last choice for the role is Carrie - she's not my favourite pick for the role, and I think she'd be better at other parts (as we'll see in a minute lol), but as I said earlier, if Miles is playing Rusty, I think Carrie would make an amazing Pearl opposite him. Their dynamic just fits them so well - Miles pining for her but not feeling like he's good enough, Carrie being blinded to her true feelings by other options (in this situation I feel like Eric would make a great Greaseball lol) but coming around in the end - it's just perfect! And, I truly believe that the song Pearl sings in the original London production, Only He, can only be bodied in the way it deserves to be bodied by my girl Carrie haha. I'm not a big fan of Next Time You Fall In Love, but I do quite like I Do (the replacement options for Only He), and I think Juliet and Vivien would do great renditions of them, but there's just something about the thought of Carrie singing that song that just makes so much sense. I've got an idea for her to sing it in a legitimate story too (that's how obsessed with that song I am lmao), probably linked to the heartache referenced in the little drabble I'll post below, but I feel like she needs to sing it for an actual audience too haha. It's just such a beautiful, powerful, swelling theatre ballad - she'd kill it!!

Alright, now we're getting to the good stuff. This is Greaseball: arguably the main antagonist of the show because, although most of the characters rag on Rusty, a lot of them do so to show their support for Greaseball. They're the reigning, undefeated champion when it comes to the races, so they have quite the ego on them. They're brash, and cocky, and a little brute-ish, but they're also incredibly competitive, which often gets in the way of their better judgement, resulting in a total disregard for everyone else (including their undeservingly loyal girl, Dinah). They're a total showboat and narcissist, but they do have a dopey, lovable side that Dinah helps to bring out towards the end of the show, which does help redeem them haha.

Now, there are two ways that Greaseball can be played: the traditional way, or the new way. For the traditional way (the sort of wannabe-Elvis, old school rockstar portrayal), Butchy feels like an obvious pick. And although I don't think he's anything like Greaseball's character, you know if he had to play him he'd take to the greaser caricature like a duck to water lmao. Plus, if Mick was playing Dinah (which, you'll see in a bit, I think works perfectly for her), they'd make an adorable duo in the show, and I think they'd have a lot of fun hamming up the roles to make them even more ridiculously cartoonish. And if Mick was his Dinah, I think Butchy would do the whole 'crawling back to her with his tail between his legs' schtick soooo well - he'd just melt into a puddle for her the second he apologised for being such a brute haha. The only thing that's holding me back with Butchy is that I don't know how good he'd be at being so mean to his friends - especially if someone like Miles or Royce was playing Rusty haha; he's just too nice! Plus, I don't know how well he could roller skate lmaoo.

OR, the other way Greaseball can be played is like how they've done it in the new London revival of the show: by making her into a fiesty little lesbian. And this is the role I feel like Carrie could really excel at. I just think she'd have sooo much fun with all the showboating and playing up the bravado. It's so different to anything else she's played before that I think she'd have a great time getting to try it out too - and I think she'd really enjoy getting to lean into playing a villain as well. I'm just obsessed with everything about the London revival Greaseball - her costume is so cool, her attitude is so iconic, the way she's adapted the character I just, uh- it's brilliant! And as cool as it could be to try out a male Dinah by getting Miles into some frilly gingham (lol), I think having either Juliet or Mick be her Dinah would work really well. I'll get into why I think Juliet would be a perfect Dinah later, but her dynamic with Carrie if they were to take on these roles would just be perfect; Juliet's mild scolding of Carrie's bruteish behaviour, but her unwavering loyalty regardless, Carrie's brushing off of her affection for the sake of winning, but then realising she didn't know how good she had it with Juliet by the end - aaaah, I love them. But for the spin-off scenario, where Juliet would be playing Pearl, my pick for Dinah would have been Mick - again, I'll elaborate more on why that works so well for her in a bit, but there's something about Mick and Carrie being paired up romantically like this that just entertains me so much, and low-key kind of intrigues me too haha. In my head, the way it would have played out was that they'd approached Butchy with the offer for the role first, hoping that if they also offered Mick to be his love interest, he'd be more likely to accept it. But after he dismissed it so blatantly, and they couldn't get anyone else to convincingly fit the role, Carrie was called upon to take his place - and to get back at Butchy for not even considering the part, Mick decides to take the Dinah role anyway, but doesn't tell him. Because imagine his face when he realises that this role they'd said couldn't be played by anyone but him was not only being played by Carrie, of all people, but that his wife was playing her love interest (and was practically throwing herself at Carrie the whole show)! They'd have so much fun torturing him with it, I just know it haha. And omg Carrie would have a whale of a time with Pumping Iron lmao. Plus, her skating skills can finally come in handy for something lol; she'd be throwing in all the tricks.

Alright, so here's where I started grouping people together because I realised I was rambling far too much about the rest lol. As cool of a character as Electra is concept-wise, I don't think I can talk about them in that much depth haha - they're just not one of my favourites! I don't feel like they have that big of an impact on the story tbh; it feels mostly Rusty/Greaseball centred to me, but it's nice to give Greaseball a bit of real competition in the races I guess haha. Their futuristic, diva-ish vibe is really interesting though, and the fact they have their own entourage is pretty iconic too. But with that all being said, I just don't think there's any of our characters that really fit their archetype, even just in terms of who'd be best at playing them - especially males, since that's what Electra has typically been played as (even though they're nonbinary in the new London revival). I thought it might have been fun to get Donny to play them in the spin-off scenario, because I like to think he's a good enough actor to pull off any role haha - and like with Carrie and Greaseball, I think he'd have a lot of fun with doing something totally different to any of his other roles. I don't quite know how it would come about that he'd ever get involved in an amateur production like this, but in my head I thought it would be cute if, besides Carrie's constant begging and pestering about how they don't have enough people to fill out the cast, he's swayed by the fact that his son's in his 'train' phase at the moment - and so he agrees purely for shits and giggles and getting to make his son excited hahaha. Plus, I think he and Carrie would have a lot of fun getting to play rivals for once instead of lovers lol. And I just know they'd really lean into the comedic side of One Rock 'N' Roll Too Many. But besides Donny, I really have no other good picks. I thought if it was maybe the situation where Butchy was playing Greaseball they could do a female Electra and cast Carrie - because she'd do a fabulous job at selling the glitzy, diva vibes and overall over-the-top dramaticness of the character, and a female Electra would be incredible - but like with Pearl, it's just not my favourite pick for her. More out of necessity than anything haha - although it would be perfect to have Butchy and Carrie playing enemies like that lol.

And then the second one on this list is Poppa/Momma McCoy, who's an old steam engine that takes part in one of the races to help encourage Rusty and prove that steam trains aren't outdated after all. The role has been played by both male and female actors, but it tends to lean more female lately. And whilst I'm sure Grandpa George would happily help the kids out with their show, I have much stronger feelings on different female characters taking on the role.

Firstly, how iconic could it be if Nonna Dawn surprised everyone who wasn't helping out with the show by rolling out to sing Momma's (Poppa's) Blues?? Because that's my main pick for the spin-off scenario and I feel like Viv's face would just be a picture lmaoo. She helped out quite a bit with the stuff in the playhouse in Camp Wanamaker too, so she obviously likes theatre, and she just has that kind of fun, mischievous charm about her, so I feel like when Riven and Carrie would approach her with the idea, she'd love it - especially with that added element of surprise for the audience. And the whole mentor/advice-giver role Momma takes on in the show would work perfectly for Dawn; she's like the embodiment of the voice of reason haha.

My second pick, if you wanted to play Momma a little younger, like the London revival has done (with her playing both Control's mum, and Momma), would be Charlie, because she took a big role in helping out at the playhouse in Camp Wanamaker, and obviously cares a lot about theatre. And she has a really close relationship to Carrie and Riven, so I feel like they'd be able to talk her around to taking part eventually. My only thing holding me back is that part of my feels as though she'd want nothing to do with the production because she'd be too scared someone was gonna get hurt since the whole thing's done on rollerskates - her pseudo-motherly instincts couldn't cope with the stress lmaooo. And if it's in the spin-off scenario, where in my head Vivien's organising a rival production (probably of The Outsiders since you're enjoying it so much atm haha), I feel like Vivien would have already snagged her to help with directing on her project.

And my last potential pick for Momma, in an AU version, and one where Royce or Miles was Rusty, would, of course, be Mrs Murphy. I don't know how she would have done with performing, but Momma obviously takes on a motherly role to Rusty, and the freight/fuel trucks too - so Mrs Murphy taking on that role opposite one of her actual sons, and helping to give them the confidence they need to succeed, just makes so much sense to me! Pretty unlikely scenario, but a fun one to consider nonetheless haha.

Ooh ok, more of my faves again haha. Dinah used to be my all-time favourite growing up, so I have lots of opinions about her. But basically, she's another of the 4 coaches (along with Pearl), and her main role in the show is that she's Greaseball's racing partner (and therefore, essentially also their romantic partner). They have a kind of strained relationship most of the show, because Dinah's totally head-over-wheels (😉) for Greaseball, but Greaseball's also being fawned over by pretty much every other coach, and is reluctant to give in to Dinah's affection for fear of showing any weakness to their opponents - so they can be pretty mean sometimes. BUT, they do have a really cute moment when Greaseball loses in the end and goes back to Dinah to apologise, realising that they still love each other without all the glory of being champions.

She's a pretty confident character though, and is good at standing up for herself when she doesn't think something's right - but she's still able to show her softer, more vulnerable side, which makes her a really well-rounded character imo. There are a few good options for who I'd want to play her though, and although I mention later that Carrie would be a good Dinah, I only think she'd really get cast in the role if she it was an externally produced show, since she only ever lands secondary parts haha. I think she'd be a great Dinah, don't get me wrong, but I just think that if all our characters were in the show, there are better choices for her.

My first one, as mentioned earlier, would be Mick. The brunette hairstyle she's been given lately, as opposed to the blonde, works for Mick so well, and with red being her favourite colour, taking the red from the new London costume but applying it to the more traditional gingham style - aaaah, she'd look adorable. Plus, like I said above, having her play this role opposite Butchy just makes so much sense - but, having her play it opposite Carrie (like she would in my spin-off scenario) would be brilliant. I just think they'd have so much fun with it, especially knowing how weird it would make Butchy feel watching them together, and oddly, I feel like it would help their friendship grow even stronger😂 It's just such an iconic pairing, and I really think they'd do it justice. I think she'd make a really strong-willed Dinah, and as unsteady as I think she'd be on roller skates at first, I think that'd make everyone all the more impressed when they saw her racing and dancing around with everyone else haha - Riven and Carrie would work their magic with teaching her.

And with Dinah being typically played as a sort of 'Southern Belle' type, the obvious pick for Dinah, and one that also makes a ton of sense to me, would, of course, be Juliet. And if she wasn't playing Pearl, this is definitely who I'd have her play. I think she'd be able to lean into the more sensitive, emotional side of Dinah, whilst also keeping a bit of the strength that Mick would bring to her - and you just know that if Carrie was her Greaseball they'd be in their element playing lesbain lovers 👀😂 They'd peak here, I feel. This and Maureen and Joanne in Rent - they'd be untouchable.

I didn't even know whether to include CB in this or not since he's been taken out and put back into the show so many times, but I reference him in one of the one-shots so I thought it was best to. Basically, he's a caboose coach that, in the second act, reveals that he's got a little evil streak behind his oh-so innocent appearance, and that he's actually notorious for wrecking the trains he races behind. So, (although I don't think it's ever actually explained why lol) he teams up with Greaseball and Electra to trick Rusty into racing with him, only to try wrecking him in the big final race. Naturally, it doesn't work, but hey, he acts as a zany little extra antagonist, which I'm never going to complain about haha. 

Like I mention later on, I think Riven would feel kind of drawn to this role - especially because of the softer side we see with him when he comforts Dinah after Greaseball ditches her (for being too moral for their dirty racing tactics lol). Plus, there's that 'red' motif again that would work with his auburn hair - and I think he'd be able to play that coolly sly, kind of crazily sadistic twist well because of how chill he is normally. That switch would be so jarring! But, perhaps an even more jarring option, I think Bentley could also do this part really well. He'd be the perfect, innocent mask to begin with because he's so little and smiley - but then I think he'd have a lot of fun getting to flip that on its head and be the complete antithesis of his usual ball of sunshine personality to be a little crazy criminal instead. Obviously he's nothing like that normally, but acting-wise, if he felt confident enough with it, I think he could really do it justice! And it'd make an even cooler contrast if one of his brothers was playing Rusty; that betrayal would be even harsher!

Alright, now onto the coaches. Let's try to speed through these because I already know I've wasted far too much of your time lmao. If you're still reading at this point, I'm actually pretty impressed 😂 The coaches have changed a bunch over the years, mostly for things going out of fashion (*cough cough* Ashley the smoking car lol) - but the current ones in the London revival are Belle the sleeping car and Tassita the quiet coach. Since these are smaller, more generic parts, I don't really have as much to say about them. But, for Belle I thought that Jade might be a good pick, because I know she can sing since she's in Riven's band, and idk, maybe she naps a lot? 😂 Either way, even though she's said before that she can't act to save her life, I don't think she'd have to act a great deal in this role - but she can sing and skate, and that's enough to give her the confidence to agree to help out in my book haha. And for Tassita, who's the first coach to ever be played by a male performer, which is pretty cool, I thought August might be a fun pick - you know, because he's such a quiet guy himself lol. Besides that though, I've always thought he'd be a good performer (he was originally going to have a part on Find Your Voice after all), and although, like Jade, I don't think he'd have a great deal of confidence at first - especially in a role that still appears quite feminine when he's not totally secure about his sexuality - but I think they'd be able to tweak both the part and the costume until it was something he'd feel comfortable doing. And once he started working on it, I think it'd be really good at bringing him out of his shell! Plus, I like to think he's got a really good voice hidden behind all that shyness - so this is an excuse to finally bring it out into the open hehe. 

Other coaches that could be worked in from other productions are Buffy the buffet car, Duvet the sleeper car (an alternate to Belle), Carrie the luggage car (what a coincidence lol), or, the original Belle the sleeping car, from the original London production way back in the 80s. Belle didn't really do a great deal plot-wise besides help motivate Rusty, and Dinah and the rest of the coaches in the second act when they're ditched by the trains they race with (please, Starlight Express producers, bring back the Rolling Stock reprise; it's iconic lmao) - but if for some reason they wanted to use her in the show, I think Charlie would be a great pick for her. She'd give her all the old-school glamour and girl-power she deserves haha. And I think she'd look iconic in that red costume. 

Finally, my last category: the freight/fuel trucks. Well, actually just the fuel trucks. I thought about including the freight trucks too, but tbh, I don't really have any strong opinions on any of them, and this post is already far too long, so I just left them out lol. But, like the coaches, the fuel trucks are just more racing partner options for the trains. Some have bigger parts than others, but their main purpose is providing fuel (shocking, I know ha). They're new to the London revival though, and tbh I like them more than the freight trucks; they feel more central to the plot - even if it did make the song Freight significantly worse lmao.

And speaking of central to the plot, Hydra, the hydrogen fuel truck is the new reason why Rusty wins the final race (because before it didn't really make that much sense tbh lmao); he's now powered by hydrogen steam, which gives him the advantage over his opponents. And throughout the show, despite the other fuel trucks ragging on Hydra for being too new and dangerous in comparison to their more reliable fuel sources, he ignores them and stands by his belief in his fuel. The only pick in my mind for Hydra because of this though is Ethan - and although I have no idea if he'd ever have any remote interest in acting, especially in a musical theatre production, you know he's so loyal to his friends he'd do anything to help them out if they asked. And, I think he'd just think the idea was so weird he'd be down to participate just for the hell of it lol. But Hydra's way of not caring what anyone else thinks of him, and sticking to his own beliefs, is so Ethan to me - plus, they just have that same, chilled, laid back vibe. And, naturally, they both have that kind of green motif 😉🍃 So yeah, for me, Ethan has to be Hydra - and no matter who's playing Rusty, I feel like he'd vibe enough with all of them for him to jump at the chance to help them out like Hydra helps Rusty in the show. And it'd finally give him an excuse to use those roller skating skills I know he's hiding somewhere despite his usually terrible clumsiness ha. 

For Porter (the red coal truck) I think Zack could maybe play him? Not completely sold on that idea because I don't think he'd really vibe with musicals, but if August roped him into helping out I think he'd begrudgingly agree - and Porter basically does nothing anyway, so he couldn't really complain lol. And for Lumber (the blue timber truck) I picked Erica - not only because her blue hair would look sick with an all-blue costume like that, but also because the thought of Jade and Erica flirting as their characters during the little bickering section between the coaches and the fuel trucks in the song Freight had me weak at the knees. So if they were both in it, their characters would 100% be in love, no questions asked - I need flirty trucks and coaches hahaha. 

So then the final role I'm passionate about is Slick, the oil truck, which is the new London revival's answer to CB, since she not only takes on his main song, but also the whole concept of wanting to race with Rusty to wreck him and help out the competition. This revival also gives her a monetary aim though, which is good for giving her more of a motive, I suppose. I don't really know how trains are supposed to use money, but it's at least a reason, which is more than we had before lmao. I think Abby would be such a good pick for Slick though - I'd want to make her a little more girly, giving her some different hair (like my little reference picture, or maybe something like some fun bubble braids or something - like oil bubbles 👀) and a more feminine costume - but I think having a pretty important role like that would help bring out her confidence with performing a lot, without totally throwing her out of her comfort one with a big main role. I think she'd like the added challenge and fun that the villainous twist Slick has would bring though; it'd give her something a bit different to play with. And with Slick's colour palette mirroring Greaseball's, and her being an oil truck, makes me thing that Abby would really want to lean into making Slick a little Greaseball fangirl, who is constantly looking up to her and wanting to impress her (and hence giving her even more motivation to wreck Rusty and help Greaseball win the race) - which I think would also nicely mirror how much Abby would look up to Carrie (an established actress already) if they were to ever meet. I just think it works really well for her, and I love how the show's leaning more into mixing the genders of the coaches and the freight trucks - even if the costumes are still leaning more feminine and masculine respectively, I think our characters would have more fun tailoring them to each performer's preferences. Because come on, Abby being a pretty girly, but still menacing, little secondary villain would be so cool - she needs to let her rebellious side shine!

Excuse the TMM spacer lol, I'm too lazy to go make a new one lmao. Anyway, if you made it through all that, you really are a true friend haha - because that was soooo much insane rambling. But, I do feel better for dumping it out of my mind and onto a page. Maybe now I can finally stop obsessing over it and get back to writing the stories I should be working on. But hopefully this was a little fun post to switch things up a bit! And hopefully you at least liked it half as much as I enjoyed your Outsiders post haha. If, for some bizarre reason, you actually are interested in the show, then just let me know because I have a slime tutorial (*wink wink*) of the new revival I'd happily send you the link to, because I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. But even if not, like I said, this was just a bit of silly fun to give all these ideas a home. It's not a complex show, and it doesn't have particularly elevated songs or characters, but the orchestrations are clever, the costumes and theatrics are amazing, and it's all done on roller skates - so it'll always have a special, fun spot in my heart hehe. I've linked a video of the megamix at the end of the new London revival for you to get a bit of a vibe of what the show's like without having to watch the whole thing too if you want hehe - at least this way you can see some of the skating and costumes in action! And, as promised, as a reward for sitting through the insanity of this post, here are two little drabbles with our characters as a reward.

The first centres around the song There's Me, and a pairing I think works particularly well for it, that I'm dying to see/write more of - it's also plucked out of that Camp Wanamaker spin-off I wanted to do that I'm not sure will ever materialise. But consider this a sneak peek into what would have gone down lol. And the second is a litle bit of what the chaos the concept of Riven and Vivien putting on rivalling productions would have brought about haha. For context, I think although Riven would have bagged Carrie for his show straight away, Vivien would have furiously retaliated by claiming everyone else in their cabin for hers - hence the competitiveness that ensues. Enjoy! Hopefully they're not too weird to not still be enjoyable anyway 😅😂

The dusty deck creaked as a scuffed, black Converse nudged into her periphery. But her eyes never left the lake - as grey as the thick blanket of clouds overhead, and as bleak as her outlook. 

"The laundry house, really?" the voice demanded, pausing to give the girl a chance to explain herself. 

She did not. 

Sighing, the guest realised this was going to be harder than he expected. After all, he wasn't used to her being this…subdued. "You know, I just think it's a testament to our friendship that I was the only one who knew to look for you here," he offered with a playful smile…that went completely unnoticed. Frowning as the girl continued to ignore his very existence, he let out another sigh, this one as he lowered himself down and took up the space beside her, nudging the sole of her now off-white sneaker with his knee to draw her out of her thoughts. "Come on, Carrie. I'm trying here," he said. But when he leant forwards to try to get a clearer look at her face, and found her cheeks marred with glistening tracks in her foundation, and her puffy eyes speckled with remnants of her mascara, his frustration waned. "You can't hide from them forever," he gently added.

"I want to," Carrie murmured.

"You don't mean that," he tried.

"I do; at least that way I wouldn't be able to fuck things up any more than I already have," she limply insisted.

"You didn't-"

"Don't give me that, Riven; I know I did," Carrie said, cutting him off with an exasperated huff. "I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have yelled at them like that. But I was just in such a bad mood after that class, and I was so fed up with everything, so then to come back to all that I just…"

"...Let all those years of bottled up frustration out?" Riven offered.

"Something like that," Carrie mumbled, dropping her gaze to her lap, knowing that if she actually made eye contact with the boy her resolve would start to crumble in an instant. 

"Hmm," he began, murmuring his understanding as he took his turn to look out across the lake. "I heard it wasn't pretty."

Although Riven was no longer looking at her, he saw her dark blonde curls trembling out of the corner of his eye as she shook her head.

"I'm so embarrassed," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. A fresh tear plopped onto her thigh as she kept her watery gaze steady, praying she'd be able to get a handle on her waterworks for once. "They hate me for sure now."

"They never hated you, Carrie," Riven promised, turning back to her again as though it would persuade her to believe him. 

But Carrie proved to be as stubborn as ever, completely bypassing the comment with a mournful smile she still couldn't bring herself to lift from the floor. "All that time I spent trying to win them over…down the drain, all because I had a shit day and lost my cool."

"I don't know, I'd still say you're pretty cool," Riven tried with a playful lopsided grin, bumping her shoulder until she turned to see it for herself.

When she did finally turn to face him though, it was with that flat, annoyed frown that always just egged him on more. "This isn't a joke," she grumbled, but Riven's little chuckle said otherwise. 

"I'm not saying it is," he countered. "I'm just letting you know it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than one dumb argument for me to stop thinking you're cool. Come on, you're Caroline Cole: entertainer extraordinaire-"

"Why are you doing this?" Carrie stopped his playful bolstering in its tracks with a weary sigh.

"Because I want to," Riven said, standing firm in his optimism. "Come on, I hate seeing you like this," he pressed on fitfully, uneasy with her uncharacteristic despondency. She was usually the life and soul of the party in that playhouse, now she had all the energy of a wet paper towel. Hoping to distract her with a little healthy competition, he added, "We should be out there crushing Erica's cabin at volleyball right now."

"Well forgive me, but I'm not really in the mood," Carrie flatly retorted.

"What are you in the mood for?" he challenged, with a primarily jovial tone, but a hint of creeping frustration. "Moping about like a kicked puppy?"

"Yes, actually," she snipped. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I can't be the 'smiling showgirl' 24/7…" Her frown twitched into the faintest of wistful smiles as her voice trailed off, carrying her focus back into the turmoil unfolding within her own head. "I'm allowed to have emotions, I'm just not allowed to show them," she went on to explain with a quiet, self-loathing huff. "'Cause that's when things always turn to shit."

All Riven's teasing intent slipped away, seeping into the damp wood beneath them, as it began to dawn on him that there may have been more to her dramatic disappearance than what he'd initially thought. "...This is about more than just you yelling at the boys, isn't it?" he slowly asked, treading carefully, as though to not set off a bomb.

And yet, Carrie dropped one on him anyway.  

"I think Miles and I are gonna break up, Riv."

The words hung in the muggy air between them, not daring to be believed.

Stunned, hazel eyes settled on Carrie's profile, unable to tear themselves away until she explained herself. So, she began to talk. Slowly but surely, she unravelled the tangle of thoughts in her head, laying them out before her friend, praying that his sensible, perceptive mind could help her make sense of them. "It's just…not felt right this summer. It's like he's…pulling away, or something," she started, still avoiding eye contact at all costs. At least that way she could keep a handle on her tears, even if her mouth did start to run away from her instead. "And the arguing with Royce never helps, but it's just been getting worse instead of better and I can tell he's getting frustrated with it, but I'm trying and nothing's working and I don't understand why and that's making me frustrated, which makes the bickering worse, I just-" She stopped to snatch a breath, only to blow out all her remaining self-confidence with it. "I feel like I've got no fight left anymore. I can't see it getting better. And when I know Miles would always side with his brothers, and everyone else would side with him if things went south… I don't know, it just kind of stings, I guess; one wrong move and I lose them all. No matter what I do, I'd still be left out on my own."

"Don't lump me in with that."

Startled, Carrie lost her focus and turned to the boy; she'd been so lost in her own thoughts she'd forgotten she wasn't alone anymore. But even when she searched his expression, his comment still made no sense. "What do you mean?"

"Well don't say I'd never speak to you again if things with you and Miles didn't work out," he explained as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Which they totally will by the way, but that's beside the point," he tacked on as that playful chuckle of his started creeping back into his voice. "Of course I'd still speak to you; you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Really?" Carrie asked, wary despite the hopeful glint in her ocean eyes. 

"Yes, really, idiot," he snorted. "I'm not just friends with you 'cause you're dating Miles, you're my drama buddy," he went on to explain with a grin holding nothing but fond sincerity. "You're the only one that keeps me sane in that playhouse, and even then you're so ridiculous I can only take you seriously like 60% of the time. Plus, I did see you naked that one time-"

"I was not- it was just my top."

The frustrated tone shining through in the way she had cut him off, and the way she had hurriedly returned to avoiding his gaze, struck Riven down. "Oh my god, you didn't even laugh at the bikini story. This really is bad," he said - again, half-joking, half-genuinely-concerned. Reaching behind him, his fingers closed around glossy wood as a teasing smile started to tug at his lips. "I didn't want it to have to come to this…"

Hearing fingers start plucking at guitar strings, Carrie's bewildered frown deepened as she turned back to him. "What are you doing?"

"I can't help it, you've left me no choice," he chuckled, cheesily grinning back at her and continuing to lazily pluck out a melody. "I'm not leaving until I've cheered you up - even if that means resorting to music."

"Come on, Riv," Carrie wearily groaned, not nearly as amused by the offer as he'd hoped she would be. "Stop, I'm not in the mood. Can't you just leave me alone?"

The plucking stopped and Riven sat the guitar fully back in his lap, his own brows now starting to furrow. "They really got you this time, huh?"

Carrie sighed as she dropped her gaze to her lap again. "I don't like to show it normally 'cause I know they don't always mean it, they just want to get a rise out of me," she slowly confessed. "But it was…different last night. It's felt different since we arrived."

"I really thought you guys were getting somewhere," Riven softly mused, just as perplexed by the sudden nosedive in amiability as the others in the cabin.

"So did I," Carrie agreed, smiling painfully down at a knot in the wood. A million things she wanted to say swirled in her head, but none of her thoughts were quite able to be fit into words - nothing that could make a coherent sentence anyway. She didn't know whether to get mad, and let the rest of her pent up anger spill across the deck until she'd rid herself of it completely. She didn't know whether to just push it to the back of her mind again, put on a brave face and swan back into camp as though nothing was wrong at all. She didn't know whether to stay hidden, avoiding everyone at the cabin and all her problems at the same time. At least that way she wouldn't have to face them again, or have to try to explain herself and her inexcusable temperament to Miles. God, he was probably so mad at her right now. 

More and more thoughts flew through her mind, hitting the walls of her skull like rabid animals until her head pounded and her resolve broke down. Helpless tears started to slip from her eyes as the hopelessness of her position washed over her all over again. She felt a hand on her back that brought her back to her senses in an instant though - having forgotten, yet again, that she wasn't alone out here. She sniffed and hurriedly patted away the tears, trying to salvage what little of her makeup still remained. "Guess I'm not such a heartless bitch after all," she offered, managing a melancholy chuckle at her predicament that, although was an improvement, still did nothing to show Riven that she was feeling more like her usual self. 

In fact, he just felt more concerned than ever. Carrie was strong-willed and stubborn, bold and exuberant - not the shying, insecure, tearful shell of a girl before him. He'd already suspected that her confidence had been knocked this summer thanks to the rather personal disruption at the playhouse, but this was worse than he thought. And he couldn't stand by in good conscience and watch her fire be extinguished. 

Setting his guitar back into position, he began plucking at the strings again. Carrie shot him another questioning look, with a slightly annoyed huff, but he stuck to his guns and kept playing, offering her nothing but a cheesy, comforting grin in response. "Complain all you want," he chuckled. "But I'm not gonna stop playing." 

Although Carrie just rolled her eyes, she did manage a small, resigned laugh as she gave up on the pushback. And soon, to her surprise, lyrics began to accompany his playing - as gentle and reassuring as his own intent.

All alone, you think you're on your own You think there's no one in the world who cares for you That isn't true, there's me May not be, the one you want to see But if you need someone who's kind then look behind And then you'll find, there's me

I'll be near, standing by Never fear, you can cry But in a while, you will smile And I'll be there to see

By yourself you have to cry yourself Nobody else can cry the tears you have to cry But I will try, there's me Until then, when you're okay again You'll look around, find I'm no longer there I'll still be near somewhere You're not alone, there's me There's always me

I'll still be near somewhere You're not alone; there's me There's always me...

The soft, yet cheeky smiles Riven kept shooting the girl as he sang, paired with the meaning behind the words, and the added special meaning to them both, meant that by the time his strumming faded to silence, Carrie was finally grinning back at him. 

"You really came all the way out here to serenade me with a musical theatre song from the 80s?" she asked with a teasing chuckle, wiping away the last traces of any tears with the heel of her hand. 

"It worked, didn't it?" he teasingly fired back with a satisfied smirk. 

"Touché," she giggled, before hitting with a further pointed eyebrow raise. "But Starlight? Really?"

"Again: it worked, didn't it?" he retorted with a snort of laughter she was all too happy to reciprocate.

"You are way too attached to that show," she chuckled, teasingly bumping his arm.

"It's about roller skating trains - how can I not be attached to it?"

"I don't know, ask literally anyone else at camp," Carrie snorted back, referring to the many attempts the pair had made to try to get even just one of their friends to give the show a chance.

Knowing exactly what the blonde was talking about, Riven just shot her a grin. "They'll come around eventually, trust me."

Giving an equally confident, yet slightly more playful grin back, Carrie conceded with another giggle before continuing. "And when they do, I think you've proven you'd make an excellent CB."

Riven pressed a hand to his chest. "I think that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he said with a comically dramatic earnestness that just had Carrie rolling her eyes again.

"Shut up, I compliment you all the time," she retorted, and her smile only broadened when Riven showed no signs of pushing back. "I'm serious though; if you ever manage to convince Nonna you don't need to be sectioned for suggesting we stage the show, I think you'd be great."

Biting back a laugh, Riven instead decided to lead with sincerity. "Only if you'd be my Dinah," he bargained with a fond, yet knowing grin she, again, gladly shared. But it wasn't long before he started rambling again. "But I'd sacrifice that if it meant you could be Pearl…"

With an affectionate shake of her head, Carrie playfully sighed, "I never play the lead - I can't break my streak now, you know that."

Taking his turn to roll his eyes, he retorted with. "Pearl is not the lead; the whole show's about Rusty."

"Ok well maybe you can play Rusty then, Mr Know-It-All," Carrie teasingly fired back as the pair fell back into their typical, theatre-based ramblings - idly chattering away without a care in the world as the wind pulled the clouds across the sky.

It wasn't until Carrie saw the sunlight skittering across the lake, and heard the distant chatter of counsellors start up again, that she realised her head had finally stopped pounding, and her chest no longer felt as though someone had carved a giant hole into it. Astonished, but grateful nonetheless, Carrie turned back to Riven with a smile. "Thanks for coming to find me, Riv."

Grinning contentedly back, he replied, "Well, I don't like thinking of you being sad. You're like my fun, crazy, big sister - I can't have you moping around like a sadsack."

"You really think of me like a sister?"

"Of course. We don't always understand each other, and I tease the shit out of you at every opportunity I get, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. You always make me laugh, you're insanely talented, you give the best advice, but you're honest when you need to be - you're everything I'd want in a big sister. Plus, like I said, you're my drama buddy. The shit we put up with from those campers has bonded us for life, whether you like it or not."

Unable to hold back her laughter any longer, it spilled out from her grateful smile as she reached out and wrapped him in a big hug, nestling her face into the well-worn cotton of his hoodie. 

"And you give great hugs," he playfully added, mumbling through her mane of frizzy, golden curls.

"Thanks, Riv," she murmured between giggles, letting herself melt into the comforting reassurance of his embrace.

"Any time, Care Bear."

Sitting back, scouring his half-finished painting with an acutely analytical gaze, Bentley didn't even hear the door to the art barn open, let alone the footsteps that followed. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head from side to side, screwed up his mouth in concentration… And then his vision went dark.

Blinking, eyelashes brushed against an old t-shirt masquerading as a blindfold. But before he could try to question the ambush, a quiet voice broke through his haze of confusion.

"Alright, listen to what I say, or this is not gonna be pretty."

A chuckle couldn't help but slip from Bentley's lips, immediately relaxing as he recognised the voice. "Is that your attempt at sounding threatening?"

"I was actually trying to be reassuring," August countered with a bashful chuckle of his own.

"Oh, well then consider me reassured," Bentley laughed, still idly toying with his paintbrush. "As reassured as anyone can be when they're randomly blindfolded on a Wednesday afternoon. What are you doing anyway?"

"I need to take you somewhere, so put the brush down and get up - but don't go too fast; I've gotta make sure you don't bump into anything," August ordered, tying the old t-shirt in place before clumsily helping the blonde stand, taking him by the shoulders and leading him towards the door.

"Where the hell are we going?" Bentley asked, after they had navigated the stairs in a (somewhat) successful manner - consisting of only one giggling fit, and one almost-total-collapse - as he felt them move from the wooden deck to the uneven grass. 

"I'm not allowed to tell you, but it's nothing bad, trust me."

"Who's forcing you to kidnap me and parade me across camp like a prisoner?"

"You'll find out in a minute," August chuckled, steering him around a tree stump. "But just know that it's nothing bad."

"Well I'd hope not - I'd hate to think you'd willingly be involved in leading me to my demise," Bentley snorted, before continuing with his idle rambling. "Who's roped you into taking me captive anyway?"

"I don't know if I can say; they didn't give me much briefing, and I don't think they expected you to be this…chatty."

Bentley laughed. "Well then they should have sent a more intimidating kidnapper."

"They didn't want to scare you, they just needed you away from Vivien," August admitted, immediately falling silent for a few steps. "...I don't know if I was supposed to say that."

"Ohhh, ok then, so I'm being taken hostage by the competition?" Bentley chuckled through a smirk as he began to piece the puzzle together.

"...Maybe," August confirmed as he rounded the blonde and started to lead him up a new set of steps from the front to make sure he didn't lose his footing. "But if they ask then you figured it out on your own - you didn't hear it from me."

"Well it's not like I had many options; it was either that or some weird camp event I didn't pay attention to the announcement for," Bentley laughed to himself as he blindly stuck his foot out, almost completely missing the step until August repositioned him. "What do they need me for? Information about how our rehearsals are going? And how are you in cahoots with them anyway? Are you abandoning our show for theirs?"

"What? No, just… Hang on, gimme a second," August fumbled through his excuses, fighting to nudge the door open with his foot before carefully pulling his friend inside. "Alright, we're here. Just sit down and listen to what they've got to say, they'll explain everything," he continued, keeping his voice down as he offered the boy further reassurances he was sure he wasn't supposed to. 

Once Bentley was situated on what felt like a metal fold-out chair, August gave his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before untying the old t-shirt and lifting it away from his eyes. Oddly though, even with the blindfold removed, Bentley could hardly see a thing; whatever cabin they were in had black-out cloths draped across the windows, leaving the room in complete darkness. Well, at least that explained why it had taken August so long to navigate him across the room. 

"Uhh… Hello?" Bentley tried, calling out into what felt like a completely empty room if the thick silence he was met with was anything to go by.

But before he could question his situation any further, a light sprang to life beside him, so bright he had to jerk his head back to save himself from temporary blindness.

Wincing, he tried to take in his now significantly more illuminated surroundings, only to find that he was sitting at a scuffed, fold-out table, occupying the very lamp that seemed to give off more light than the sun itself. Other than that, the rest of the room was swimming in darkness, creating a rather effective interrogation set-up, which he suspected the masterminds behind his kidnapping had hoped for. 

And speaking of these masterminds, just as the afterimages were finally starting to fade from his vision, a figure rolled out of the darkness and up to the table. Yes, quite literally rolled. 

They set their hands on the tabletop in front of him and presented the boy with a smug smile. "Hello, Bentley."

"What are you doing?" Bentley asked, snorting out a laugh at the surreal nature of the entire situation. 

"We have a…preposition for you," Riven slowly explained, his smug smile only broadening. 

"We?" Bentley questioned. "There are more weirdos than you tied up in this thing?"

Suddenly the lamp head was wrenched back, sending the beam of light directly at his face, once again making him jerk his head back. "And just who do you think you're calling a weirdo?"

Eyes watering from the visual assault, Bentley squinted through the brightness until he found a tanned hand clamped around the lamphead. Following it up, he found an all-too-familiar, shadowed face, framed by a mane of unruly golden curls. "Not you?" Bentley offered with a lopsided smile.

Thankfully, the gesture was enough to appease Carrie, who tilted the lamphead back into position - but not before she shot the boy a satisfied smirk in response. 

"You got any other questions? Or can we get down to business?" Riven asked. 

"Uh, yeah: what's with the kidnapping?" Bentley fired back, sporting an amused smirk of his own. "You so worried you'll lose the bet you're turning to torturing the competition?"

"What? No! We just needed you away from the boss," Riven laughed, his comically threatening act disappearing in seconds as he referenced his pint-sized figure skating partner. "Like I said, we've got a preposition for you."

"Couldn't you have just asked me in the dining hall? Or in my room or something?" Bentley went on to ask, still having to squint from the light.

"Well yeah, but where's the fun in that?" came Riven's snorted reply, to which Carrie just grinned and nodded in agreement.

Bentley shook his head at the pair, evidently equally matched in their passion for dramatising the most menial things. "This is so dumb," he breathed, fighting back a smile at the ridiculousness of their whole set-up. "What do you want then? What's this preposition thing?"

Carrie and Riven exchanged a glance, giving each other a confirmatory nod before turning back to the blonde. "…We need your help."

"With what?"

"With the show," Riven clarified.

"The show? Your show?" Bentley spluttered, eyes darting between the pair, looking for any evidence of jesting, yet finding nothing. "I don't understand," he slowly continued. "Why do you want my help? I've got no idea what I'm doing with all this theatre stuff. I'm out of my depth with Viv's show as it is. Plus, I already agreed to be in her's - I can't help out the competition."

"Why not? I am."

Bentley's ears pricked up as a new voice entered the conversation, and to his amazement, when he turned to follow it, he saw a grinning brunette emerging from the darkness on Carrie's right. 

"Mick?! You jumped ship?" Bentley asked, gawping at the grinning girl as though she'd just grown a second nose. "Does Viv know?"

"No, I didn't jump ship," Mick chuckled as she perched on the edge of the fold-out table. "I'm helping out with both."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause I wanted to," she snorted simply. "It's not like there's rules against it. This whole thing's just for fun anyway."

"Yeah, it's not actually a competition - we just both wanted to put on different shows," Riven added.

"Well could you let Viv know that? She's treating this like we're at war - we've all been sworn to secrecy," Bentley said, chuckling at his friend's competitive spirit.

"Oh we know, we already tried to get Mick to squeal but she wouldn't budge," Carrie said, sharing a knowingly playful glance with the brunette.

"And luckily, they had a cool job for me besides just being their spy," Mick cheekily added. "Or else all the effort it took to brainwash me would have been for nothing."

"Which is…?" Bentley tried.

"I'm building the stage," Mick revealed with a proud grin. 

Bentley's eyes went wide. "You guys need to build your own stage?"

Riven and Carrie shared another knowing smirk. "If we want the show to be as awesome as it deserves to be then yeah, it needs a custom stage," Riven confirmed.

"And since Butchy and Miles refused to even hear us out, Mickie stepped up to the plate to handle it all on her own," Carrie added, looping her arm through the brunette's with a fond grin. "And she's doing a way better job than either of those two bozos would have done anyway." 

"Well, I don't know about that…" Mick said with a roguish chuckle. "But I am doing a pretty damn good job."

"Does this mean you're helping with both shows too?" Bentley then asked, turning behind him to look for the friend who'd brought him here, who could do nothing but offer him a sheepish smile. 

"...Yeah," August slowly admitted, before adding a quieter: "You know I'm terrible at saying 'no' to things."

"So your solution is just doing twice the work?" Bentley asked incredulously, the information just serving more of a purpose to fuel his growing need to help August grow a backbone. 

"Well they're not big parts-" he tried to reason.

"You're actually in both of them?" Bentley demanded, his eyes practically popping out of his head when he saw the knee and elbow pads the boy was sporting. "But you don't know how to roller skate."

"They're teaching me," August chuckled, shooting Carrie and Riven a grateful smile. And when Bentley's disbelieving gaze found theirs, they just offered him smug grins and little waves, showing off their own elbow pads as they did so.

Bentley's shock jumped to a whole new level when he spotted Mick's elbow pads though. "You're in it too, Mickie?!"

"Well I didn't like how quickly Butchy dismissed them when they asked him to take part," Mick began, smirking at the very thought. "So I thought I'd teach him a lesson about not judging things at face level."

"Well, we should have known not to expect his neanderthal brain to be able to comprehend such complex concepts as 'having fun'," Carrie retorted with a cheeky dig Mick luckily started to laugh at.

"I've gotta admit, it did sound really corny at first. But once you get past the fact it's all about trains, the show is pretty fun," Mick confessed.

"Duh, of course it's fun, we're directing it," Carrie added, gesturing to the auburn-haired giant behind her, who just laughed in his approval. 

"The whole show's done on roller skates - I still don't understand how anyone could know that and not automatically think it's awesome," Riven said between his chuckles. 

But at that revelation, Bentley's eyes started to grow wide again. "Hold on, you're not expecting me to have a part in your show too, are you?" he asked, horrified at the very idea. "I barely have a handle on what I'm doing in Viv's already, and that's just one show. Plus, I can't even roller skate so-"

"No, we don't need you to be in it," Riven cut in with a chuckle before the blonde's anxious ramblings could make him run out of breath. 

"Unless you want to be in it, then we'd totally find you a part," Carrie tagged on with an encouraging grin. 

"And teach you how to skate," Riven added with a mischievous smirk. "If we can teach Mick, we can teach anyone."

And although Mick's playful whack of Riven's arm did help him relax a touch, Bentley's stance on their offer was still firm: "No thanks, I'm good." But his curiosity was still running rampant as the others giggled at his reaction. "Well if you don't need me to have a part in the show, then what did you need my help for?"

"We wanted to see if you'd be willing to help us with designing and making the costumes," Riven explained.

Bentley thought he had to have misheard him. "The costumes?"

"Yeah," Riven chuckled at the boy's expression. "What's that face for?"

"I don't know the first thing about making costumes - I've never worked with fabric in my life."

Riven and Carrie exchanged another glance. "That's kind of why we need your help," Carrie started.

But when Bentley just looked more confused than ever, Riven went on to explain. "None of the stuff in the playhouse storage bins will work because, well, they're just regular people clothes, so we need to design our own stuff. Juliet's already said she can help construct any actual clothing garments we need, but our main problem is how to actually use the outfits to make us look like trains."

Bentley's thoughts came to a screeching halt. "Wait…you guys are the trains?"

"Yeah."

"You're acting as trains? Singing trains?" They had to be pranking him, right?

"Uh, yeah," Carrie said, sharing another quick glance with Riven.

"What did you think the show was about?" he snorted.

"I don't know, I thought you were just like people working on a railroad or something," Bentley retorted with an incredulous splutter.

"Well we're not, we're the trains," Riven chuckled.

"Yeah, why else would we need to do the whole thing on wheels?" Mick added with a playful wiggle of her skate-clad foot. 

"So what? You want me to…make you look like trains?" Bentley warily asked. "Like with big chimneys coming out of your heads and stuff?"

Fondly rolling her eyes at Bentley's poor attempts at stifling his laughter, Carrie stepped in to try to explain the proposal a little more clearly. "No - we just need to capture the vibe of trains - you don't need to shove us all in cardboard box models. We can show you the costumes of the official productions so you can get an idea of the sort of things we're looking for, but we don't have a huge budget, so we're gonna have to get creative - hence why we came to you," she finished with a proud grin. 

"All we want you to do is draw up some concepts that make us look enough like a train to sell the illusion to the audience. And as long as they're moveable enough for us to skate in, and can be constructed from stuff we've got access to, the rest of the design can be totally down to you," Riven added.

"So basically you've got free reign to make us look as ridiculous as you want," Mick tacked on with a chuckle. 

"But try to be a little nice with it," August gently offered from behind, which just set Bentley off to laugh more.

He did have to admit that the offer sounded quite tempting. After all, he'd never worked on anything like costume designs before - and from the sounds of things, this concept would let him get pretty creative with it; these weren't just average costumes - in fact, they were probably more sculpture than costume anyway. But there was something still holding him back. "I don't know, guys. I don't know if I've got the brain space to work on two shows at once-"

"Oh please, Bentley - come on," Riven pleaded. "We'll look like complete morons out there if we don't have good costumes."

"We will," Mick earnestly confirmed. "Trust me, It's not pretty."

"Well if I'm on Vivien's side then don't I want you guys to look like complete morons?" he asked with a mischievous giggle.

"Maybe, but where's the fun in a landslide victory?" Riven countered with a smirk. 

"Come on, Benny, please," came Carrie's attempt at begging. "I'll sit with you and help you learn all your lines whilst you work on the costumes."

Bentley's ears pricked up. "...Really?"

"Mhm," she confirmed with a kind nod. "And I can give you all my tips for breaking down the script into easier parts to manage; I know they can seem really daunting when you try to go through them all at once."

Now that sounded like an offer he could get behind. He'd already been toying with the idea of asking Carrie for help with the seemingly impossible task of learning his lines, but had chickened out every time. There were just so many - it was like they all blurred into one every time he'd even open a page. And he hated the thought of letting Vivien down because he couldn't get his brain to work how he wanted it to, so if Carrie could actually help him get through a scene without having to look at his script the entire time… Maybe it'd be worth giving up a few pages of his sketchbook to designing train-transformer-wannabes.

But he couldn't let them think he was that easy of a target… "I don't know guys, it just doesn't feel right going behind Viv's back like this-"

"Oh come on, Benny, please," Carrie tried again, with a touch more dramatic desperation.

"I'll do your dish duty for the rest of summer," Riven attempted to bribe.

But that just spurred on Bentley's reluctance even more. After all, he was rather curious about what else he could squeeze out of the pair to help sweeten the deal. "...I'm listening."

"You can have the rest of my pudding cups with dinner each night?" Riven offered. "And you don't have to go behind Viv's back," he added. "Don't go and tell her outright, but if she asks you about it then you're totally free to tell her. And if she's not happy about it, you can back out any time you want."

"Well, okay, but I still don't know if I'll have the time to-"

"If you say 'yes' we'll get you that rare Spiderman comic you want," Riven threw out in a moment of sheer desperation.

Bentley's heart skipped a beat. Damn, they really did want his help.. "...Seriously?" he breathed, eyes widening at the very prospect.

"Sure, Carrie'll cover it - won't you, Carrie?" Riven confirmed with a smirk as he gave the blonde's shoulder a squeeze. 

Shooting him a sharp glance, she hissed a tight: "I will?"

"Of course you will," Riven verified, his mischievous smirk only broadening as Carrie's mildly murderous glare was replaced with Bentley's whole-hearted satisfaction.

"Alright, done. Pass me a pen and some paper," he said, sealing the deal with a barked laugh and a cheesy grin before either one of them could back down on their offers again. 

"Welcome aboard, Bentley," Riven replied, shooting him a victorious smile as he reached across the table and shook the boy's hand. 

But just as Riven and the others were starting to unload all their ideas for potential costume concepts onto Bentley, with what he found to be startling levels of enthusiasm, the room's main lights flickered to life, illuminating a seething head of green hair in the doorway. Before Bentley could question the girl's sudden appearance, or could let his eyes adjust to the drastic shift in brightness though, she called out to her band partner with thunderous urgency.

"Riv, you've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do; I just looked up this 'Belle' character you want me to play - care to tell me why she's described as 'ancient' and 'peeling'?" an outraged Jade demanded. "Or why you thought I'd be so perfect to play her?"

Rolling his eyes and just laughing off the girl's anger, Riven quickly tried to appease her with a teasing: "That's not the version of her we're using, dummy. And don't you dare try to tell me you're not perfect for her - you nap all the fucking time."

As Riven and Jade broke off into their own friendly spat, and Mick and Carrie started up their own conversation about what Mick had been practising last on her skates, Bentley found himself turning to August - this time taking his turn to wear the awkwardly sheepish smile. "Why do I get the feeling I've signed up for way more than I can handle?"

"Oh come on, don't worry, it'll be fun," August reassured before offering a joke to further set him at ease. "And hey, at least you're getting a backstage job and a comic book out of it - all I'm gonna get is on-stage embarrassment and massive quads."

The guffaws spilled from Bentley's lips before he could stop them - and after glancing around to watch Carrie clumsily catching Mick (who looked as if she'd just stepped on a banana peel in an old cartoon) before she could fall, and Riven playfully bickering with Jade in the doorway, he started to think that working with them on this project might not be so bad after all. Plus, a whole costume concept all to himself? He could definitely have some fun with that…

[seeminglydark]

hi! is there are reason that you decided that cassette tapes would be john’s chosen form of physical media? how would john organize his music (i.e., genre, band name, release date) and what would john keep his cassettes in? i can imagine him either having stuff in old shoe boxes or a cassette case that he hand-painted himself!

Yes! It's my personal favorite form of media, I'm really partial to cassettes, i think from growing up in the early 90's when it was the norm, so imprinted on my brain. I love mix tapes, jumping up to smash the record button when my fave tune came on the radio, so id always miss the first 10 seconds haha, my first several cars had tape decks. i love Walkmans, it was such a HUGE thing in my life to be able to put headphones on and take my music with me for the first time. I translate a lot of that nostalgia to john. I always imagine him with his Walkman and headphones, or small portable stereo, in bed with all the lights off except the white christmas lights that criss cross his ceiling, Creaky on his chest, listening to the episodes on repeat.

John organizes his music by How Much he Currently Likes A Band, grouped by band name and then oddly enough by album color. (so if he had several cassettes by say, Social D, they'd be next to each other in rainbow or light to dark.) He does most things by color, he's slower at reading and alphabetizing is a bit of a chore and makes him feel self-conscious and stressed. He doesn't mix music and books on tape, they each have their own shelf. He does rearrange a LOT.

Right again re: shoe box and painting the cases! I actually wrote a little snippet of this a long long time ago that didn't make it into the comic, but you can have it now, under the cut.

'Caro eyes a shoe box on the shelf curiously, its covered in stickers, anti fascism and punk rock bands. 'Can i look at this?' they ask, he nods, his back to them. They pull it down and settle it in their lap, lifting off the top to discover... cassette tapes! Oh wait, John did say Maddie recorded their show for him onto cassettes. There were at least 40, all lined up in the order of episodes. Caro pulled one out, the white paper inside the case was filled in with bright colors and shapes, elaborate images of ghosts and snakes and monsters. They pulled out another. A cartoon portrait of the little blond, violet eyes wide at the barrage of brightly colored spirits hovering behind them. 'Is this me?' they ask out loud. John turns to look and freezes. 'Oh….' embarrassed. 'Uh yeah…' 'Wow the art is so…?' they murmur, pulling out another, this one done in greens and blues with metallics. 'Ive never seen anything like these before?' They saw a lot of fanart, but this was different somehow. It felt more personal. Like the person who made them really put their soul into it, like it wasn't just fanart to the artist, but something really deeply important. 'I…um….' Johns face is bright red now..' um…I mean, you know I dont have social media..' he reminds them softly, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Wait.' Caro looks up, he's so flustered now, shuffling his feet, ears on fire. 'These are YOURS? You did these?' Somehow they've forgotten he used to fill up notebooks with colorful drawings, street art and tagging. Liquid letters and cartoon animals with thick black outlines. 'Sure.' He shrugs and turns away, back to them again, 'I would draw on them while listening, you know. It just felt kinda sad to leave them blank. Maddie showed me some of the fanart online, and the box set of the first season. I can't do the same kind of art, I'm not good like those other people, but…I didn't want to leave them blank, so I made my own I guess.' he pauses. 'I'm sorry…you must think I'm so fucking weird.' 'I don't think its weird…' they murmur looking at the tapes. 'I think its really cool. I didn't know you were such a talented artist.' He laughs, a short bark that sounds like a cough. They put the box gently back on the shelf, and sit on the bed, deciding to spare him. They can see he's smiling though, even if he's trying to hide it with his fist pressed against his lips.'

[rillabrooke]

What about Kismet? I don't think I know that one!

ooh okay so this one's fun. bella @bluebellwren and i started writing kismet together way back in 2018, and it's actually the reason i joined tumblr! it's about personified versions of abstract ideas, e.g. fate, destiny, jealousy, temptation, fortune, justice, etc. it follows fate and destiny, estranged siblings who are forced to work together after ~6,000 years of rivalry. between their meddling extended family, two uncooperative mortals, and their own feud, they have their hands full of shenanigans (and existential crises).

we got 155 pages in before life got in the way for both us :/ anyway here's a snippet! it's from the prologue, the big intro to my main character, fate, and the first thing written for kismet way back 2018:

• • •

Paris, France – June 6th, 1832

He slipped through the soldiers, invisible to all, and stepped into a corner where he could see the aftermath.  He noted the dead men strewn about the bloody ground and smiled a sardonic smile.  He rubbed his fingers together – snap! – and changed into an appropriate uniform before turning to the last of the battle.

The soldiers had their guns aimed at the poorly situated barricade, cocked and waiting for the order.

“Come out!” the leader barked.  “Come out and meet your fate!”

His grin widened.

A man in a red uniform – he couldn’t tell whether from dye or blood – crawled out over the barricade, a crimson cloth clutched in his fist.  When he reached the top, he slowly stood, the guns following his every movement.  His eyes blazing, he raised the cloth over his head.

“Vive la revolution!” he shouted.

He basked in the next few seconds of chaos:  the army leader roared, the guns fired, and the man screamed.  When the smoke cleared, he saw the corpse dangling off the barricade.  A small shimmering figure hovered over it.  He brought his fingers together again – snap! – and the frame froze.  He pulled a notebook from his back pocket and flipped through to a blank page.  He took a quill pen, dipped it in a pool of blood, and wrote:

“Victim #92,943,958,982 – Quest fulfilled – Dead”

The iridescent figure lifted its head to stare at him.  Tucking the book back into his pocket, he quickly approached it and held out his hand.

“Hello, I’m Fate.”

[corancoranthemagicalman]

I've seen many posts about people missing how common asks used to be so I have been trying to send about an ask a week. Now I send this ask first anytime I follow someone as I really don't want to bother anyone, so I'd love to know if you enjoy receiving asks and if so what kind of asks. Not having energy for asks or being comfortable with them is perfectly okay.

The categories I have in my ask notebook that I file under are in colour. Please feel free to make your response as long as you want or private (the asker cannot directly respond to private responses).

Self, Job/Work: please let me know what you are comfortable with from eh idk just ask it to nothing personal at all.

Baggishield/Tolkien, Dragon Age, Johnlock/Sherlock, ineffable spouses, other fandom: Please let me know what fandoms. I think my main fandoms and ships are Bagginshield/The Hobbit, Sherlock/Johnlock, Dragon Age Inquisition, {Pippin/Faramir Merry/Eowyn}/The Lord of the Rings and I dip my toes in a few that I currently can't remember but ships I don't engage with the canon of at all are: Good Omens but only for Crowley/Azirapheal, Stranger Things but only for Steve/Eddie , The Witcher but only for Geralt/Jaskier.

OC's, art/drawing, their writing, blog specific only

Story snippets ideas and prompts: Do you like receiving them?

Pets: I'd love to know all about them

Garden and Hobbies: What type of gardening and/or hobbies?

Like being tagged in things: If so what kinds of things?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Oh, hi!! Well, firstly, thanks for the follow!!! Secondly, I love asks! I (unfortunately) don't always get to certain things (because life and,,,life lmao!) but I do love getting them, and I really want to make the effort to get back to engaging so! Here's the info for your notebook!

Self, Job/Work: Just ask! I usually prefer to keep vague on some things, mostly because I like to keep "professional" socials separate from my fandom ones lol and would prefer there not being a direct connection. But for the most part, I'm flexible on talking about myself :)

Bagginshield/Tolkien YES YES YES UGHHHH I adore all of that. I peeped your profile and saw some Gimli and Legolas I think which is also mi amor <3 Elsewise, I'm all over the place, but do post Supernatural, Good Omens, and Baldur's Gate (i've bought all the Dragon Ages and that's next on my list) with hyperfixations sorting as often as they can. (You can check out my AO3 to see some of my favorites [CBlue], or most often I try tagging fandoms if you need to block anything or want to hunt for something specific. (I'm also stumbling back into some Geraskier too on ocassion!)

I don't have OCs that I post here (they tend to be more on my professional one lol), and my art tag changed because tumblr ate the previous one I'd been using (sometimes its #my art and sometimes its #C Draws or #C Arts), so that's a bit everywhere and not often. I more often post my fandom writings [CBlue on AO3, which if I may pimp out a writing of mine, I wrote Compression, a Bagginshield fic (though, apologies as due to recent AI scalping all of my works are now locked to registered-users exclusively]. This is my everything blog, so everything goes here lol.

Oh my god please send me snippet ideas and prompts. That's one of my favorite ways of engage---spinning with people! That's why I LOVE participating in fandom! I get some of that outlet on a few of the (more intimate) fandom Discords that I'm in, but I'm always open to some of those from asks and such too!!

Pets: I have 6 cats, all of whom are rescues. To the point that the last three were actually rescued out of my wood pile from a storm that was going to hit last year. I don't post pictures of them (mostly to keep that fandom life separation like I mentioned), but I talk about them! People who know me probably also might remember my old man, Tucker, who was the loveliest of puppers. I had to say goodbye to him earlier this year (back in April, and it's just been...a time since then. I miss him often, but every memory is nothing but fondness.) They're all so lovely, and I love talking pets! (If, you know, six cats wasn't an indication ;))

I don't have a garden at the moment, but I do love talking about it!! Hobbies tend to be my fandom hobbies, but I'm also trying to get back into reading more often and I have a few crafts planned. And I love doing a gamer when I can in my free time.

I loved being tagged in things!! I don't always get to them because I am the toxic person (/j) who sees a notification and goes "I will respond when I'm able to," but when the notification is gone I forget all about it. Actually, you've just reminded me that I was tagged in a tag game that I wanted to do, so I'm going to go do that now lol!!

But yeah! I think that's everything and hope it's in any way that makes sense lol. I definitely appreciate you asking!!!

[thlayli-ra]

number 5 and 21 for the fanfic ask?

HIIIII ERASE! 👋

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

Oh, there's lots. I make up sordid little stories in my head all the time that'll never see the light of day. A recent one featured my boys, Punk and Knight, finding themselves in a secluded cabin - think Saw meets Deliverance - but that one will only ever be for me. Sorry!

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

I wrote an entirely different ending to Scorched Earth but ended up changing it as I was weeks away from having a baby. Originally, after the battle of Nocks, it would be revealed that it was Celeste being held in solitary, not AJ. Then after finding AJ's name in the black notebook dropped by Michaels alongside Finn and Dean's, Punk would think she'd been killed. Blinded by grief, Punk would latch onto Luci and kiss her.

It was mainly to set up a sequel where Punk finds out AJ's alive and goes to rescue her but I had no idea if I'd even be able to write anymore with a new baby so opted instead to change it to give Punk and AJ their reunion. In the end it worked out for the best - after more than 50 chapters of torment, they deserved a happy ending.

I've searched high and low for the alt ending but I must have deleted it. However, I've rewritten my favourite part of it, just for you!

Punk grabbed her hand and placed it against his head, rubbing it back and forth as Luci looked on in confusion.

'What are you doing?'

'I don't know!' Punk yelled, realising what he was doing was crazy. 'I don't fucking know what I'm doing! I just...' He took in a shaky breath, his face twisted with pain. 'I know this makes no fucking sense but... this comforts me. I don't fucking know why, but it just... it calms me. Makes me feel... safe...'

He lowered his head as his words trailed off. Outside, the storm raged, rain hammering against the windows while the wind howled, heightening the silence between them both.

'You... remember?'

Punk glanced up just as a shard of lightening tore through the air, lighting up Luci's large blue eyes. Wide and glossy. As if she was on the brink of tears.

'I... I thought you were completely out of it,' she went on, shaking her head. 'I didn't think that...' She paused, tried to compose herself. 'That night on the hillside, after you collapsed. We put you in the pool to try and break your fever. I watched over you the whole night while you slept, kept watch in case, you know...' A tear fell from her eye down her cheek. Punk felt a fist tighten in his gut. 'You were a mess. Delirious, deathly white, fiery hot to the touch. I scooped the water from the pool and smoothed it over your head to try and cool you down.'

So that explained it! This whole time, he been reliving a phantom memory, one he'd barely registered at the time. A memory of her love for him.

'I was so-' Her voice broke, choking back a sob. Through the gloom, her pale skin looked like porcelain on the brink of shattering. 'I was terrified that you wouldn't make it,' she hushed out so softly he could barely hear it. 'I couldn't lose you again.'

'Again?'

(From here, Luci reveals her past, which I rewrote into the final draft of SE when she speaks to Colt before leaving with the Shield. Hope you liked the wee snippet and thank you so much for the ask!)

[betterbooktitles]

Screen Time, Take 5: A Blast From The Past

My college girlfriend asked me to watch Fellini’s La Strada with her one night. A professor from the theater department had assigned it for a class I’m sure was spent forcing students to walk across the room pretending to be tigers or as if moving through Jell-O before discussing a Samuel Beckett play they all had skimmed that week. I agreed to watch the movie. Of course, I owned a two-disc DVD copy of the La Strada and, of course, in the two years since I bought it, had failed to watch it. My Fellini phase started at 16 because Roger Ebert said I had to like La Dolce Vita (I saw it, hated it, pretended to like it for years), and solidified when a cool, attractive person I never ended up dating told me her favorite movie was 8 1/2, a movie that rewired my brain so that I only liked that movie and no other movie for about 5 months. Certainly, La Strada would be somewhere in the middle?

It isn’t. But that didn’t stop my girlfriend and I from popping in the second disc after we’d muscled our way through it to see a special feature with Martin Scorsese saying “this movie is good” for 40 minutes over clips of the movie we had finished watching five minutes prior.

“I don’t like how it’s dubbed.” I said.

“It’s the commedia dell’arte,” she said as I brewed a giant travel mug’s worth of coffee at my dorm room desk. This was before K Cups. I had a big tub of grounds and a machine that made one travel mug’s worth of coffee in my room so that I could wake up five minutes before class, and be caffeinated by the end of my morning power walk to Olin Hall. I also found that I needed caffeine in the evenings to get through any movie screening or exhausting conversations with other Bard students.

“OK. Yes. I get that.” I put the disk in the DVD player and sat back down in the maroon Dorito-dust-covered papasan. I poured powdered creamer into the mug and hit the button on the remote to hear what Scorsese had to say.

“La Strada is about commedia dell’arte.” he said to the documentarian.

“Hmm.” My girlfriend looked at me and then wrote ‘commedia dell’arte’ in her notebook. I rolled my eyes. She had recently learned about a subject, told me about it, heard the subject mentioned back to her, and wanted to make sure I heard that she was right about the thing that she said because now a professional director was saying it back to us from a screen. She often gave this affected performance of making sure I heard something she’d said before repeated by a friend at a party or a professor. It irked me but it was far from her most annoying habit (the incessant cheating).

There are several ways I would have reacted differently now. First, I would have remembered to bring my travel mug to the cafeteria so I could bring better coffee back to the dorm that evening. Second, I wouldn’t have scoffed at a person who knew a fact, heard the fact repeated, and took pleasure in acknowledging “Yes. I know that fact.” This moment of satisfaction is one of the rare pleasures a smart person gets to have.

Who doesn’t love already knowing stuff? It feels great. At a party “yes, anding” someone who said a fact you also know from a Bill Bryson book you both read? Or hearing someone repeat a snippet from RadioLab and finishing their sentence? That’s a true nerdy connection. It’s the same feeling I get when I read a history book and see an event I memorized the name of in high school and finally gain a real understanding of said event now that I have the patience to read and comprehend a modicum of historical context. Is there a word for that? For seeing something you’re familiar with in passing and then retracing your steps to find out more information, or even information you already knew? Not self-satisfied smugness, like someone who says “hmm” after your boyfriend’s hero repeats a phrase on a DVD extra. Not confirmation bias exactly. I mean the joy of watching a Ken Burns documentary and when the narrator mentions The Teapot Dome Scandal, your brain lights up and says “The Teapot Dome Scandal. We know about The Teapot Dome scandal. Hmm. Yes.” I swear, this feeling must have a name. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

Read the rest here

[respectablesentiment]

hi hello! saw you updated Tuesdays and I was wondering/hoping if you’re thinking about returning to everything you hoped for? The way you write Ellie and Dina is 🤌 even if you don’t, thank you for the amazing work! <3

Hi there! Thank you for your comment, apologies for this massive ramble of a response :)

Returning to everything you hoped for is definitely the plan although I'm not sure when. I watched a couple eps of the new show (not up to date so far but liking it) and it inspired me to go back and reread my old stories.

Honestly can't believe I wrote 172k words lol, but I reread all of it except for everything you hoped for. The writing overall was surprisingly better than I thought it would be when reading it again (although I do feel like 'gone' is kinda missing something at the end).

With everything you hoped for, I feel like I was so enraptured into that world when I was writing it and I really just let myself go into a billion tangents and lovingly wrote the slowest possible scenes. I'm not necessarily saying that as a criticism of the work, its more that in hindsight the other stories were much tighter and it made it easier for the words to just flow sometimes.

I think my momentum faltered with the story because of that and I wasn't sure how to fix it without making a fairly abrupt tonal/pacing shift in the story. I'm also not really sure whether that kind of shift is something that would be needed from a reader's pov tbh (would love to hear your thoughts on it in general) and I'm very reluctant to change any of the published content cause it would essentially be taking away from what's there.

Anyway, the point of this is that I haven't reread that story yet so this is just based on my recollection of it. I'm hoping to try to work on tuesdays or even left with rust as a way of getting back into writing in general (similar to when I did the elliedina week prompts in the first place), and then sitting down and looking at everything you hoped for with fresh eyes.

I don't want to leave it unfinished but I feel like its kind of my white whale, you know? Like its massive and probably gonna be overwhelming to return to and to ever finish.

I have a lot of it mapped out, like descriptions of the major story beats, short summary sentences for what chapters 13-21 would have been, and a LOT of snippets of future scenes written in various working docs and scribbled in my notebook.

If you shoot me a message I'm happy to share some of that stuff with you or to tell you about what was planned for it, if you like. This was a really nice message and I've gone on a big ramble but I'm feeling a bit more optimistic about trying to pick that one up again so thank you. I really appreciate it, happy to know there's still an audience for this work :)

[mentallydestroyedfemme]

Shina took back the book, then stared at the floor for a bit, thinking. That particular piece sent her into a spiral when she wrote it, as she had gone too far into her own memories and had almost burned that notebook due to that pain, the trauma from what she had seen and done becoming too much for her to bear. But something stopped her. She wasn't sure why she stopped or what had stopped her, but it had. "Yes and no. That particular snippet was... It was written the year after The Second Great Ninja War and three months after I had learned that my brother died and I lost my family as a result." She went silent for a moment, not wanting to further divulge. "In a sense, it's cathartic. Funny enough, that notebook barely escaped the flames. There was a reason I only wrote fantasy for so long, and it was because everything else was far too real. After awhile, fantasy was just something comfortable, kind of like an old worn jacket." She paused, then picked up the last tangent. "Oh, yeah, I haven't even thought about how that story would end, or even how it would begin!" She laughed a bit. "That was a practice drabble! A warm up of sorts. I might make it full length, but it will never see the light of day. Parents would stop letting kids buy the fantasy novels if they saw my name attached to an explicit adult novel!" And back to the old Shina, the one everyone knows.

Closed rp

@yusoutpost

Shina was, in a word, running. From whom, some may ask, and be answered, fans of her books. Fans of her books that took the love of her book series a little too far. She had been running for what felt like an hour, when suddenly inspiration hit her like a lightning bolt. As her brain was consumed with the idea she had just had, she didn't notice the world around her, and she ran into someone. "Apologies, I didn't see you!"

[simmerandwrite]

strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.”

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

[twistedmusings]

What Are You Writing?

A/N: JOKES ON YOU GUYS, I'M AN OBEY ME WRITERS BLOG NOW. Nah not really, I mean maybe I might start thinking about making one in the future but I see all these awesome writers in that fandom and I get i n t i m i d a t e d. Nevertheless, I did want to pull a harmless prank on my readers so...enjoy a labor of love and possible regret as I now have to work on other requests ó uò

How would the brothers act with a Writer MC?

-He almost jumps when you walk into the room, practically shouting his name as you go to stand next to his desk and take a peek at what he is working on.

“Can I help you? “You certainly can.”

-You place a notebook next to his stack of paperwork and take a pen out, opening it up to a blank page before staring at him and building up your courage to ask the next question.

“What would you do if I suddenly asked you to be my fake boyfriend for a day?”

-You certainly were keeping up with your role in being the one human he isn’t able to pin down, huh?

-He asks what in the world you are talking about and you squat near him so that you can explain what you were doing. RAD proved to be a lot more stressful than you thought and you didn’t need to remind him that you were playing therapist to seven demons so you needed some sort of break.

-You tell him that in the human world you had a habit of writing ideas, snippets and even random bits of dialogue when you got stressed so you had asked Satan to lend you a notebook and a pen so you could unwind but you had gotten stuck in one scene.

-The character you were writing was loosely based on Lucifer so you decided why not ask him what he would do in order to get some inspiration!

“So here I am! I don’t need an entire synopsis I just want to know because maybe that will spark something inside of me.”

-Pen to paper, you look up at Lucifer ready to write anything down and even though you were looking him straight in the eye you were not paying attention to just how hard Lucifer was staring at you.

-You really had no idea how he felt about you, did you?

-Even with the pact making, the Hellfire Newt Syrup incident, the countless of times he had tried to flirt with you to the point that anyone without eyes could tell how he felt about you, your human brain did not seem to accept the fact that the eldest of the seven demon lords had fallen for you.

-Was this just another way of torturing him? Who would have thought that you would be such a cruel master?

-If only he wasn’t bound to you by the pact. Not that he regretted it but without the pact the ‘need’ to submit to you wasn’t as strong, all he would have to do is grab your chin, turn your face towards his so that he could tell you explicitly what was going through his head every time he saw you--

“...I would walk you to class, first and foremost. We would leave the House of Lamentation together and arrive together as well. Maybe some impromptu dates. Free tutoring as well.” “That’s tempting~ Would you let me hang around in your study?” “You are already welcome to do that.” “Aw, when did you get so soft?”

-Get the hint already!

-Your hand is scribbling down every idea he says, making quips here and there as you both talk extensively about your fake dates would play out. The idea of having you all to himself without his brothers around was already so tempting yet here you were talking about it like it was just a passing thought.

-That wouldn’t do.

-He grabs the top of your pen and smiles when you look up at him in confusion.

“At end of the day, I want to make you feel like the most important person in my world. I don’t want there to be a single doubt in your mind that you belong with me. Pact or no pact, you changed me in ways I couldn’t even fathom, MC, and I am doing everything in my power so that you will see just how important you are to me.”

-Your eyes are staring up at him, wide and with surprise as he dares to cup your cheek.

-He did it. He had gotten through to you! All he had to do was lean in and--!

“Can you repeat that one more time?! Oh my god Luci that was so good! I’m showing this to Satan when I’m done! Thank you so much!”

-Lucifer’s hand drops to his lap as he watches you pick yourself up and run out of his study, his fist clenching in his hand as he thought of just how blind you could be for not seeing what he had tried to convey with those cliched words! Of all the humans--!

-He stops as he hears your giggles outside of the hallway, unclenching his fist and sighing as he tries to look at the positives.

-There had been a flush on your cheeks, of that he was sure. Which meant that in some way...his words had made an impact. He hoped it would take just a few more cheesy lines for you to fall for him.

”Mammon!!!!”

-From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, Mammon could feel himself shiver as you called out his name. Ever since he made that pact the way you would call out his name would send a pleasant shiver down his spine as he turned to greet you.

-Levi told him that you had been looking for him and he had practiced his greeting at least five times to make him look as cool as possible.

“Yo MC! I heard you were looking for the Great Mammon!”

-See? Wasn’t he cool?

-The brothers watched as you didn’t even greet Mammon, you just grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the living room telling everybody that you needed to talk to him privately.

-Privately? As in you two alone? Together?

-Well of course you wanted to talk to him alone! His awesome ways had probably finally gotten through to you and you were about to confess to him. Suck on THAT Lucifer!

-You push him into your room before closing the door and turning to look at him.

“I have something I need to ask you. Do you think you can help?”

-The words escape him before he even thinks them.

“Anything.”

“I want to go out with you. Tonight. Almost like a pretend date.”

-Fireworks go off inside his head as he feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. This was real, you were asking him out! You had picked him out of all his brothers despite how many messes he got you in and how much trouble tended to follow him--

-Wait, pretend?

-You proceed to show off your little book of writings, explaining to him that you had gotten stuck in trying to describe a hidden date between the protagonist and the love interest.

“They are trying to hide the fact they are dating from everybody so that they won’t get in trouble. I figured that a human and a demon going on a date is already somewhat of stigma as it is so I just want to see how it feels so I can describe it better.”

-He can’t really describe the sadness that he feels when you tell him it would all be pretend. Too much for dropping Grimm on wishing wells. He was going to go back and fish them all out tomorrow. What a letdown!

-Here he was, the GREAT Mammon letting a human toy with his heart like this!

“You won’t get in too much trouble if we do this...right?”

-The worry in your voice is what makes him look into your eyes. Your hand was on his as you looked for any signs of discomfort from the Avatar of Greed. Your eyes were entirely on him.

-Mammon’s subconscious: More of that please.

-You looked so worried for his well-being. Mammon had no idea who had told you that humans and demons were not allowed to date but they had clearly lied to you. There was no stigma whatsoever. And in retrospect he should reveal that to you now so that there would be no misinformation on how much he wanted to take you on a not pretend date.

-But all your attention was on him. Your body was facing his way, your hands on his as you licked your lips nervously. More, more, more, more he needed for you to look at him more--!

“Tch. Making such a complicated request. You could really get me in trouble for this, MC!” “You’re right, I shouldn’t push it--” “But I guess if you are asking me, I could spare a couple hours...for you.”

-You both share a smile as you hug him close, his arms wrapping around you tight as he tries to keep his smile from breaking out into full blown giggles.

-This worked out for him as well! He was going to give you the best date of your human life so you would have no choice but to fall for him! You better get ready!

-You wrote some fiction, he wrote TSL fanfiction, Levi was probably already aware of your talent once he asked to beta one of his other works and you came back not just with some beta but with some actual USEFUL feedback unlike Satan going on about his spelling mistakes. -So you are already in his room when you ask for his help, grinning as you hold up the small ideas that you had written for your proper introduction into the TSL fandom.

“I want to write an AU about Henry and the Lord of Shadows in an arranged marriage!”

-The premise was simple. You wanted to write about the Lord of Shadows and his Henry having to marry each other in order to bring peace to both of their kingdoms. The marriage proposition was sudden and each of the seven brothers was against it but you wanted to show just how much Henry was willing to sacrifice to help the people who he cared about the most.

-And you loved drama like this.

-You hold up your book as you keep ranting to Levi, the other caught up in your plot as he closed his eyes in order to better imagine it.

“And I want a moment where the Lord of Shadows tells Henry that he doesn’t have to do this. That he wants him to be happy and doesn’t want him to be stuck with a reclusive Lord for all his life.”

-Of course, of course. The Lord of Shadows had always hoped for Henry’s happiness and he had also sacrificed a great many of his previous ways in order to gain his best friend’s praise! Levi was proud, you understood these characters so well! So he pipes in with his own thoughts.

“I bet Henry turns to him and asks why he is so against the idea! It would push the Lord of Shadows to confess that he has secretly longed for Henry’s affection and attention all this time!”

-You both grin before you stand up, putting on a fake sad face as you take Levi’s hand in yours before pressing them to your chest.

“Am I not worthy to be your spouse? Do you hate the idea of marrying me that much?”

-Levi is caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even notice how close you two are, instead moving even closer as he cupped your cheek.

“You? Not worthy? It is I who is not worthy of you. After all you have done...can I be selfish enough to call you mine?”

-Oh this was practically writing itself! You really hoped that Levi remembered some of these lines. You pull away from his touch dramatically before sighing as you decide that this scene would be a good catalyst moment for a confession.

“Have you ever thought of me that way? More than what we have now? I’m embarrassed to admit it but...I have on many occasions longed for something more.”

-Levi’s expression softens in a way you haven’t seen before, keeping a hold on your hands as he follows up with you seamlessly.

“If I told you about my fantasies...about the deep need I feel to keep you away from prying eyes and hoping that yours would remain on me despite the others who so badly wish for your hand. Would you still see me in such high regard?”

-Shit he was good. The prying eyes bit was perfect! Now to end it with a bang! You feel Levi pull you by your waist so you are pressed against his chest, eyes looking down at you as if begging for your reply. So you do what you have read in many other books and take his face in your hands.

“Keep me. Forever.”

-You both stay that way for a few seconds before you pull away and let out a giddy squeal, rushing over to your book and writing down the lines that you could remember, gushing about how Levi had just given you the best ending ever.

-What you didn’t see was the poor demon standing there, arms still pretending to hold someone as the spell broke for him slowly. He needed to process just what the hell just happened.

-He had held your hands, touched you, had you close enough that he could feel you against him and you hadn’t even moved away! Levi could still see how warm your hands were on his cheeks and the words that you had said to him were now slowly coming back to him as he remembered his embarrassing replies!

-You jump and turn when you hear a clatter behind you, turning around to see that Levi had fainted and was now slumped against one of his many manga bookshelves, face all red and a dopey smile on his lips as he repeated your words over and over.

-If you had a writing buddy in Levi, then you got a plot bunny buddy with Satan.

-With the amount of books that he has read and the number of genres he is into, you are surprised that he finds your ideas mildly interesting. They were all just cliches and purely for your enjoyment so when he asked you if he could read some of what you had written you were too shocked to notice that he had already taken the book from your backpack.

“A love story...interesting.”

-You two were in the library, looking for a certain book about black magic casting as well as some examples of ritual circles that you needed to complete for your next assignment. Or rather you were looking for the books, he was just following close behind you as he read your latest entry.

“How are you stuck in this scene?” “Huh?” “How the main character meets the second love interest. It’s pretty obvious.”

-Well excuse you for having writer’s block. You know that he was trying to be helpful but his help always came with some sort of sarcastic twinge that, while endearing during some situations, was incredibly annoying when he was criticizing your writings. You turn back to look at him as you stop at the spot the book was supposed to be in.

“I haven’t necessarily fallen in love with anyone lately, you know! It’s too specific a feeling!”

-Satan’s eyes take in the way you tip-toe to try and reach the book, cursing under your breath as you struggled to get it from the highest shelf. Devildom libraries were notoriously famous for having ridiculously large bookshelves and only a ghost attendant would be able to help you. He looks down at your book and then back at the small scene before smiling as he snaps the book shut.

-Surely a bit of inspiration is all you needed, correct?

-You feel a hand on your lower back, another brushing the hand reaching out for the book and grabbing it for you. Satan smiles as he holds out the book to you.

“Black magic casting...and you needed something about ritual circles, right? It seems the perfect book is right next to you.”

-He ‘accidentally’ brushes your cheek when reaching out for the book behind you, humming for a moment before he puts it back and looks down at you without moving his arm out of the way. Satan had just effectively trapped you in a rather flawlessly executed Kabedon.

“...Satan...the book…” “It wasn’t the right one. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you in this position.”

-Your eyes were shining, the book was pressed right against your chest, he could even see the small blush adorning your face as the situation became quite clear to you. Now he wouldn’t tell you that he had practiced this sort of scenario by himself in his room just in case you ever asked him for help finding a book, better for you to believe that this had all been just a ‘happy’ accident.

“You are looking at me so seriously, MC.” “I know what you are doing.”

-He dares to move closer, his shadow casting over you as if to hide you from prying eyes. If you made the first move, there would be no one stopping him.

“Yeah?” “This would be perfect! A library setting! Gives me a chance to make the character like a cool librarian type!”

-Satan stays silent as you grab the books you need and snatch your notebook from his hand, stating that you were going to check these out immediately and then head home. He turns back to look at the place you were just standing at, the place where you had been completely at his mercy.

-Dammit, he should have blocked the other side too.

-Asmo was ecstatic when you asked him for his book collection.

-It annoyed him to no end when people thought that the only way he consumed his erotica was through personal experience and porn. In his opinion, after personal experience, the best way to enjoy his usual favourite activity was reading erotica. The descriptions, to get into the thoughts of the inner characters and seeing how they essentially lose their minds to the pleasure. It was thrilling.

-So when you come knocking at his door one night and ask for one of the books you usually catch him reading, he is both excited and curious.

“Which one do you want darling? I have the first volume of ‘Eternal Dom Love’, ‘Baring My Soul to a Demon’, ‘Captive Human’--” “You have anything like...with dirty talk?

-Oh now he is really excited and curious.

-He looks around his small library and pulls out the book he thinks is best for what you desired, holding it out for you to take but pulling it back quickly with a grin. Asmo wasn’t going to just let you walk away after telling him something so interesting~

“I’m a bit possessive about my books, MC~ What are you going to use it for? Recreational reasons?”

-You blush and cover your face with your hands, not really embarrassed for asking but instead embarrassed that you were about to tell him what you were going to do with it. But you steel yourself, you had heard Asmo flirt in the club before and from how quickly his dates had insisted on taking it to a more ‘private’ area, you knew he had the thing that you desperately needed.

“I…” “Yes?” “I’m-trying-to-write-the-prelude-to-a-sex-scene-in-one-of-my-stories-but-I-have-no-idea where-to-start-so-I-need-material!”

-Asmo blinks before grinning as he got in your face, pushing the book into your hands as he asked you what the story was about, who were the characters, had you based them off of anybody and just what kind of sex scene where you planning?

-He had no idea you had that kind of talent, where had you been hiding that all this time?

-You slowly explain the plot to him, getting a bit more into it as you see how much attention Asmo is paying to your every word. Out of all of the brothers you didn’t expect him to be so interested in one of your stories! The scene you have in mind is somewhat clear to you so you try to explain to him just what you think is missing.

“It is a demon and a human. They are clearly not supposed to be doing this. Yet that is--” “What makes it all the more appealing.”

-Asmo had played this out perfectly given the little time he had to work with. The more you talked, the closer he got to you. The closer he got, the more you moved away subconsciously. Your body instinctively wanted to make room for him and give him his space but you let out a small ‘meep’ when the back of your knees hit the side of his hanging chair and you find yourself sitting down as he kneels in front of you.

“They both know that if they take such a intimate step with one another they might not be able to go back to how they used to be before. Everything will change.”

-You nod as Asmo touches your leg, hand moving towards your thigh as he rests his chin on your knees.

“But what is so wrong with change? You said the demon is a charmer so they would want to charm them throughout the whole thing. It would start out slow, teasing even, probably testing out the waters as they see what their human likes and doesn’t like."

-He scoots closer and traces your fingers, the digits wrapped tightly around his book as he continues..

“They would eventually lose control, wouldn’t they? The passion would be too much for them to handle and they both would lose themselves to their lust. Although it wouldn’t be just lust…”

-Asmo looks up to meet your eyes, straightening out as he leans in closer to the point that you are shutting your eyes and leaning in as well--it’s not that you haven’t had experience with kisses but surely the demon of lust’s kiss would spark something inside your head--!

-You open your eyes when you feel the book leaving your hands.

“I changed my mind. I think this would be a much better title for what you are looking for, Sweetie.”

-He holds out your hand for you to stand up and you almost want to ask Solomon to cast some sort of spell that would make you forget everything that happened in these moments. You closed your eyes like some highschooler waiting for their first kiss--you were better than that!

-You thank him and make your way out of his room, running back to yours as fast as you can without noticing Asmo’s mischievous smile as he waved goodbye. It was always good to play the long game~

-You two had stopped at Madame’s Scream because Beel had complained about being hungry yet again. Besides you both had done rather well on an examination so--why not celebrate?

-You only had a small fizzy drink while Beel had ordered himself something called ‘The Herculean Parfait’, something about it holding 25 scoops of ice cream plus whip cream, nuts and some waffle cones at the bottom. Now the waiter had brought out two spoons but it was clear that Beel would only be needing one.

-This was rather normal for you two, Beel eating his fill while you stared at the blank page of your small notebook. You were trying to write a cute scene with a couple sharing a dessert at a coffee shop where they first met but you were struggling to think of a fluffy scenario.

-Was feeding your partner considered cheesy nowadays? You tap your page twice before looking at Beel. The second spoon remained untouched, some ice cream specks stuck to the shiny, concave surface as the Demon of Gluttony continued his ice cream carnage. You grab the spoon and take some from the side that had yet to be eaten.

“Hey Beel”

-The demon stops eating and looks at you as you hold out the spoon to him, his hunger suddenly stopping as he looks at the sugary contents stacked high on the spoon you were holding out for him.

“Say aah!”

-Beel blinks but doesn’t think twice the moment you give him the command, opening his mouth and eating the sugary confection off the spoon, his smile growing as you let out a small giggle.

“Did it taste good?" “Mmm~!" “I’m glad.”

-He abandoned his own spoon as you scooped up some more, opening his mouth as you kept on feeding him. Beel had no idea what had brought this on or why you were suddenly feeding him. It wasn’t like he was complaining, however. Yes your pace was slow and such a giant parfait would surely melt with how slow you were going but he didn’t care, instead opening his mouth wide as you kept on feeding him.

“So Beel…” “Mmm?" “Does it feel any different when I feed you?”

-Beel frowns when the spoon stops but decides to answer your question so that he could go back to eating. Why would it feel any different? Well, it somewhat did? He didn’t know how to describe it but he does feel a lot fuller than before. He is actually tasting the food as you take your time scooping up some more. He had picked out so many different flavors and he could taste almost every single one.

“I wouldn’t say different...but food certainly tastes better when you give it to me.”

-You immediately stop and put the spoon down, smiling as you start to writing down what Beel had just said. You could essentially build an entire scene around that! What a good idea coming here--

“MC?”

-Your pen stops as you look at Beel, your pen falling from your hands as you see the puppy dog look he was giving you. He looks at your hand and then at the spoon.

“Why did you stop?”

-Beel smiles happily as you go right back to what you were doing, the notebook forgotten as you continue to spoil your demon. You had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you were doing this.

-Belphie yawned as he cuddled you closer, your hands moving so they would be wrapped around his neck but still holding onto your phone. He closes his eyes and tries to drift off but frowns when he hears your fingers tapping on your screen. He could probably sleep through the sound but he didn’t want to.

“Turn around.” “Huh?” “Just turn around.”

-You do as he says, now pressed against his chest as you continue to type. Belphegor was close to falling asleep, pressing his nose against your shoulder as he breathes you in---

Tap tap tap tap

“Fuck this.”

-He grabs your phone and drops it off the bed, your protests being muffled as he wraps his arms around your neck to pull you close. You tap his arms twice before wiggling out of his hold, sitting up on the bed and looking at him while he glared back at you.

-What did you think you were doing typing away on your phone? Belphegor never really asked you for much but when it was cuddle time it was cuddle time. You weren’t supposed to do anything *but* cuddle during cuddle time so you clearly needed to stop being distracted.

“What do you think you are doing?” “Taking care of your distraction.”

-You both stare at each other as he sits up as well, clearly letting you know that if you were to go and dig for your phone he wasn’t going to let you. At this point, it really was useless to argue with Belphegor. As the youngest, he was used to getting what he wanted with little setback. So you lay back down, ignoring the triumphant smile Belphegor gave you as he went right back to cuddling you.

“I was writing something.” “It can wait till later…”

-Belphegor yawns and wraps his leg around you, ignoring the little ‘hmphs’ you were giving him as well as the words you were muttering to yourself. But what good would it be if you weren’t cuddling up to him as well so he decided to give in as well.

“What were you writing about?”

-Oh this was new. You turn to face him, talking about the scene you were working on. This couple had just had an exhausting day and they were eager to lay in bed together but their work or other responsibilities were keeping them from cuddling at night. You explained how you wanted to describe the exhaustion one was feeling from not having their partner with them.

-The demon of Sloth hummed when you mentioned how tired the character was and speaking up about how he knew how they felt. You chuckle and mention that it seemed that everything made Belphegor exhausted nowadays. He shakes his head, opening his eyes so he could look at you.

“No. I mean that everything gets heavier when you’re not with me.”

-You try to cut it in and ask him what he is talking about but he beats you to it.

“I get more energy when you are around. I actually want to do things aside from sleeping. “Are you saying you like hanging out with me more than sleeping?” “Don’t push it, MC.”

-Both of you laugh, your body cuddling closer to the demon as you yawn. A part of you was still annoyed that Belphegor had shoved your phone to the floor because now would have been a prime time to write that he had just said but as your eyes grew heavier you just hoped that you would remember it by the time you woke up.

-Belphegor opens his eyes once he feels your breathing evening out, smiling as he leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You weren’t far off...I do like you more than sleeping...sometimes…”

-He yawns and wraps an arm around your waist. What a good idea it was to lock the door so none of his brothers would bother you two. Your nights were his, after all.

[tmp-jatp]

Guys I just wrote my first fic.

I mean, I’ve written fics before, but never finished them. But I was struck by inspiration and I’ve been trying harder to write while the muse is there because you never know when she’ll leave and not come back. I’m so excited to share this with you.

You can read it on AO3 here (2479 words btw) or read it below. I’d love it if you checked it out :)

-

It was safe to say that Luke’s mind was near constantly full to the brim with music. As a songwriter, it was one of his favorite parts of himself. He had notebooks galore, all chock-full of half-written verses and melodies he hummed once in the shower and chord progressions he’d heard in a dream.

Usually, once he freed them from his mind via his pen, they were gone, saved in ink on the page. He would come back to them, to draw inspiration, to weave pieces together, to fashion them into full-fledged songs eventually.

There was always the one song that stuck around, though. It would never leave him, no matter how hard he tried.

He would hear pieces bouncing around between his ears. Sometimes it was a drum beat. Sometimes he heard snippets of words. Sometimes it was two voices, his and another always unrecognizable one, blending more beautifully than he would’ve thought possible as their two sounds danced together.

The Song had always been there, since before Luke could remember. At first there wasn’t much, just three notes that repeated over and over. One day, five more came to accompany them. As he had grown older, he’d learned what The Song meant.

Luke’s parents loved to sing their Song to one another, or they would sing it by themselves when they were alone to feel the other’s presence with them. It was a beautiful sound, and Luke loved hearing it. He asked his mom to sing their Song to him each night before bed for far more years than he would ever admit to Alex, Reggie, or Bobby.

When Luke tried to sing his parents’ Song, either by himself or with them, he’d found he never could. Even though he’d heard it a million times, his mind couldn’t recreate any part of it.

Luke would get frustrated and pout, but his mom would kneel down and smile at him.

“That’s because it isn’t your Song,” she’d told him. “Your father and I get to share this with each other and with other people, and it’s something that’s just ours. You have your own Song, and it’s just yours. One day you’ll find the person you get to share it with.”

Luke knew from middle school that he wanted to be a musician. He’d always been crafting songs, even while his own Song taunted him in its incompleteness.

When he’d gotten his first guitar for Christmas in seventh grade, another gift had come with it: more of The Song. He didn’t know which gift he valued more.

Luke learned how to play chords and arpeggios. He learned techniques while his hands learned the dexterity they needed. He developed muscle memory and honed an ability for transcribing music from his ears to his fingers.

The more he learned, the more his mind seemed to go wild with ideas at possibilities for songs. He started collecting notebooks. He always had one near or on his person with a pen also within reach. They filled haphazardly at the whims of Luke’s imagination.

Luke would play his ideas on his guitar and let them drift through his bedroom. They’d grow on their own and become more. It never felt like Luke was writing them, they just came to him.

His parents called it a gift.

When he wasn’t playing his songs, Luke was playing his Song. It burned into his mind. When he didn’t know where to go next with a piece, his fingers would always bring him back home.

The four boys started a band together. They met in Bobby’s garage and played their hearts out. Luke collected stray ideas all together to form and fill in coherent songs that they would play.

They sounded good.

The boys all knew about each other’s Songs by then. Reggie’s had a country twang to it that drove Luke crazy. He liked to play his Song’s chord progressions on his bass, but he was learning the banjo too to help him fill out the sound in his head. Alex was always humming his between reps and during set up and tear down, lost in his own world. It was soft and sweet, like a lullaby. When he got anxious, he would tap out rhythms and vocalize melodies to help calm himself down. Bobby’s Song was energetic and exciting, a sharp contrast to his shy self. He liked to play it on his electric before practices started and would always be finishing up just as the boys came into the garage, so they never heard much more than that which would seep out into the backyard.

None of them ever tried to replicate each other’s Songs. Songs were personal, they were intimate. Anyway, it wasn’t like they could recreate them, even if they tried.

Luke tried one night to transpose his Song to paper, but it never worked. His pen would hover above the sheet but never write anything at all. He tried to get something, anything, even just a word down, but it wouldn’t come out, determined to stay only inside his head. That was what Songs did.

They named their band Sunset Curve and started playing gigs. Other people liked their music, too.

Bobby became less shy when he was on stage, drawing energy from his Song to create a confidence that he would wear. Alex let out his anxiety on the drumset in a different way than how his Song would relieve his anxiety but which ended up helping just the same. Reggie wrote more country music in his free time. Sunset Curve never played it.

Luke grew older. His voice deepened and matured. One afternoon in the middle of practice, he stopped playing. The other three petered out once they noticed.

“Luke?” Alex asked from behind the set. “You okay?”

There was a voice singing his Song now. His voice was singing his Song.

“Yeah,” Luke smiled and assured. He didn’t explain what happened.

But after practice, he was humming again, a tune which complimented what they’d heard him play before. Reggie, Bobby, and Alex shared a grin while Luke wasn’t looking.

All four of them were in the music program at their high school. There were a lot of talented students in their class.

In junior year, there were a bunch of new freshmen who came up into the class. They showed a lot of promise. Sunset Curve became friends with a group of four of the freshmen. Their groups meshed well as eight, but they also all found a complement within themselves. Alex and Carrie liked to dance together. Reggie and Flynn explored new music genres and played pranks on the other six. Bobby and Nick became study partners. And Luke? Luke had Julie.

She was...well, she was Julie. She wasn’t afraid to be herself and wore it proudly, with her butterfly hair clips and dozen friendship bracelets and doodled shoes.

Reggie suggested that their group of eight should have a name. Flynn was unamused by Bobby’s suggestion of “Octuple Trouble”.

Luke wondered what the four freshmen’s Songs sounded like. He never asked. Songs were intimate, and lots of people were shy about other people hearing them. Songs revealed the deepest parts of your soul.

Luke knew that his soul was pure music and music alone.

Besides his parents and his brothers, no one ever heard Luke’s Song. No one else needed to hear his Song. It was his.

Julie, Carrie, and Flynn showed the boys how to make friendship bracelets. They explained how you made them for each other and then tied it on each other’s wrists so they would never come off as long as the friendship would last. Luke thought he would be embarrassed by wearing friendship bracelets and how it would clash with his style of jean chains and cutoff tees and metal rings, but somehow he wasn’t. They all eight hung out at Carrie’s house and tied bracelets for hours that night, with Star Wars playing in the background on the TV at Reggie and Nick’s requests. By the time they were finished, beads were in mis-matched piles on the ottomans and slivers of tape and string sprinkled the floor. It was one of the best nights of their lives.

Luke wore his bracelets proudly. They were dorky, but they were so them and Luke loved them. He had a purple and blue knotted pattern from Julie, and an orange and green one with beads that read B-I-C-E-P-S---M-C-G-E-E from Flynn.

Carrie made Alex something pink that Luke never saw closely. They’d spent the whole evening with her teaching him some fancy pattern of knots that would make a picture, so theirs matched one another’s.

Luke didn’t see what Bobby, Nick, or Reggie had made or for whom. He’d been too focused on his bracelet for Julie. He tried to channel all of his love for the friendship he’d found with her and with all eight of them into the strings, but his fingers that normally were so dextrous and able on the guitar couldn’t hold the strands with the right tension and it ended up a mess.

She loved it and wore it anyway.

Luke eventually had one bracelet from each person in Octuple Trouble and had given one to each person in turn.

Luke’s Song still plagued his mind day-in and day-out. Every day it felt it was more complete. He heard it all the way through now, but even still it wasn’t complete. There was always his guitar playing, but there was another instrument dueting his. Luke knew what the instrument was in his heart but he couldn’t name it when he tried. It was just...there. A sound that he knew better than any other but it was also different than anything he’d ever heard before. He heard his voice singing all the words, and he heard another voice, too, but it belonged to nobody. The other voice was the biggest mystery to him. It made him feel like he was home but like he didn’t know where home was.

A few months into junior year, Julie changed. She became more reserved and stopped playing in music class. Luke knew why. He didn’t know how he could help, though. He tried to just be there, and to make sure she knew he always would be.

Sunset Curve was gaining a reputation and playing more and more gigs.

Carrie started her own group, Dirty Candi. At some point she cut off all of her bracelets. Alex still went to all of their performances to support her.

Julie and Flynn stayed closer than ever before, but the rest of them...drifted.

A part of Luke fractured alongside their group. He was pretty sure a part of each of the rest of them did, too.

Senior year started and the eight of them felt practically like strangers once more. They were still all in music class, but it was different. It had been different for a long time. Nick and Bobby didn’t study together anymore. Alex and Carrie still hung out, but Reggie and Flynn hadn’t pranked anyone since November. Luke missed Julie.

Alex came to practice late one afternoon in September with wonder in his eyes and voice about a skateboarder he’d met.

“Well, he sort of ran into me...literally, and we both fell down. And I scraped up my hands pretty bad on the concrete trying to catch myself-” Alex showed them the bandaged heels of his palms “- and it stung, like, really bad. You know how I have that nervous habit where I hum my Song when I’m anxious? Yeah, okay, so I started to do that while he apologized and grabbed band-aids out of his pocket - I don’t know why he had band-aids, Reggie, probably because he gets scrapes pretty often too. But so I was humming my Song, and he started humming it too.”

Luke wondered what it felt like to hear your other half complete you.

A year after Julie changed back in junior year, she changed again. She came back. She played in class again and Luke was once again in awe of the power packed into this sophomore. He’d forgotten just how amazing she was. He didn’t know what had triggered this return, but he didn’t care. She was back.

Three weeks later, Luke was looking for Mrs. Harrison. He needed her to sign some form for him for his guidance counselor, something about graduation requirements. Luke hadn’t been paying attention.

He had his hand on the handle to the music room and was about to twist it open before he heard a sound from inside.

Three notes, repeated. Five notes. The whole sequence repeated once more.

Any thoughts of forms fell from his mind. Luke opened the door with a fervor he’d never experienced before. He rushed into the room but only made it two steps in before his shoes squeaked to a halt on the wooden floor.

Luke locked eyes with Julie. She sat behind the piano, in a black dress he’d never seen before.

The paper in his hand fluttered to the floor. Wordlessly, Luke crossed the room and picked up Mrs. Harrison’s acoustic guitar. He slipped the strap over his neck and faltered. What if he was wrong?

He took a deep breath and pushed his doubts down.

Luke turned around and saw Julie, who was watching him with a concerned curiosity.

No turning back. No regrets.

Luke’s hands started playing the first song he’d ever played. The song he’d played a billion times. It was etched into his dreams and it framed his every thought. Luke played his Song.

Julie’s eyes widened in recognition and her jaw dropped open.

Luke started singing and that seemed to spring Julie out of her stupor. Her fingers started moving across the keys in chords that accompanied his plucking.

She picked up the verse where he left off and Luke was hearing The Song for the first time. The other instrument that melded with his was the piano underneath Julie’s fingers. The other voice was hers.

Luke could see it in her eyes. She felt it, too.

Home.

It was exhilarating.

They filled the music room with their Song - no longer his, it was theirs - but the entire world was just them two. Nothing else existed but their music together.

Luke walked around the side of the piano while he played so he could be closer to Julie. He saw his god-awful friendship bracelet on her wrist while she played and smiled at the part of her that he carried on his, too.

That wasn’t the only part of her he’d been carrying, he realized.

Their Song.

Wow.

The two of them drew to a close, out of breath with amazement.

We create

A perfect harmony

They locked eyes. They were home.

@pink-flame @thedeathdeelers surprise you’re on my taglist

[willowsrain]

20 Questions

20 Questions tag~

Tagged by @deadlyglacier! Thank you! <3 

How many works do you have on AO3?

5! 

What’s your total AO3 word count?

16,903 

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In total? I’ve written for three. Rockman.EXE/Megaman NT Warrior when I was younger and on FF.Net, Persona 5 (that I deleted from AO3), and FMA

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well I only have five, so that’s easy at least! 

Aureate - Roy is a sap disaster when it comes to Ed. Contains lots of references to the color ‘gold’, copious amounts of schmoop, and some NSFW in the form of consensual somnophilia. 

The Waning Moon - Ed is dying from ALS. This was inspired by my work as a nursing assistant in an Assisted Living home, after I found that so, so many medical fics disregard the most ugly parts of dying. So I set out to make this as accurate and ugly as I possibly could. 

Floo-ke Encounters of the Magical Variety - The obligatory HP/FMA fusion set in the FMA-verse. Ed’s a wizard going to Hogwarts with a time turner and after a problem with the Floo, he comes out of Roy’s office fireplace when he’s supposed to be on a mission in South City. Whoops.

En Garde - The college tour-guide AU that I couldn’t actually bear to write as a tour-guide AU, so I wrote about Ed and Roy being on the fencing team. There’s a horrible amount of fencing innuendos, courtesy of Roy - and Ed threatening to shove Roy’s foil up his ass. I had way too much fun with this one. 

Dance with Books - An Ed/Al drabble that I wrote with two excellent prompt one liners. 

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to? But I kinda suck at it... I’ll get better at it, I swear! And comments make me scream happily. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The Waning Moon. I gave the fic two different endings, with the ‘bad’ ending being the ‘true’ ending that I had in mind when I wrote it. In it, Ed offers what remains of his life to Truth in order to return Roy’s vision to him, and so that Ed no longer has to suffer with his disease. 

A snippet of the end of the 2nd chapter: 

He buried his face in his hands, covering his wretched eyes in the process. Edward might have given him his sight back, but now everything he saw was forever tainted with death.

Which was, Roy mused, a fate most befitting for the Flame Alchemist.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hm... Aureate, probably? It’s a sappy fic that you need to make sure you brush your teeth after reading, because it’ll give you cavities otherwise. It ends with the two of them saying ‘I love you’, so I’m not sure it gets much happier than that!

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes! The Harry Potter one is the only one I’ve posted so far, but I’m currently planning out one for Persona 5 based in the FMA verse, where Roy and his team all have personas and the ability to enter the cognitive world. Roy and Ed are together, and Roy starts to have the nagging sensation that Ed might be suffering from a palace - and it turns out he’s right. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! But I also avoid FF.Net like the plague, so... that might have something to do with it. I also try to be very clear about anything that may be triggering, such as the pairings I write for, or any sensitive topics. So far, the haters have stayed away from my fics, phew! I hope it stays that way!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I mean, I wrote Aureate, so... yes? I struggle a lot with it, but I plan to keep writing to hopefully get better at it. But consensual smut is a must. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thank goodness no! 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no! 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I’m working with someone right now to write an ABO-verse FMA fic. More details to come when we finish it :3 

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

RoyEd. Preferably with Ed being aged up into adult age. There’s something about having two characters who both understand the demons that the other suffers from, and they can exist (and thrive) in each others’ worlds and minds that I absolutely adore. They’re also amazing foils for each other that cover each other’s weaknesses beautifully.  

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My P5-like rewrite of Brotherhood. Sigh. I want to. It’s one that incorporates the social aspect of P5 into FMA for Ed. IE - for each ‘rank up’ of each person that he bonds with, he grows his knowledge of alchemy, and gathers different talents that Truth gives him as he grows. 

For example, Truth is represented by the Fool arcana, and at first Rank with it - Ed gains the ability to read the intention behind any array that he sees. As he hits rank 2 with Truth, Truth has the ability to speak to Ed without being in Truth’s realm. 

With the other arcana, as he maxes out the social rank with each person, he gains knowledge of an array that he’ll need in order to fight Father on the Promised Day. But Maes dies before Ed can complete his social rank, SO WHAT IS HE GONNA DO?! :3

What are your writing strengths?

Uh, I’m not sure? I like to think that I channel the character whose POV I’m writing through pretty well. And I like showing their thoughts and attitudes through the story itself. 

As an example from En Garde - 

“Alright! Let’s get started, everyone! Sabres to the north, Foils with me in the center, and Epees to the south!” Roy called out, his voice projecting without making his voice sound any less attractive.

Holy fuck, Ed was already in over his head. He was screwed. Dead. Done. Double done. Absolutely and utterly fucked. And judging from Roy’s flirting, potentially actually fucked.

Shit.

And with that lovely thought, practice started.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I get bored, especially if there’s a part of the story that I’m extremely excited to write. I either start to skimp out on the details of the part of the story prior to it, or I’ll just skip right to the part that I *want* to write, which can sometimes make it read a bit awkwardly when I go back and try to connect it. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Eh. I find it pretty distracting, unless the words/titles are ones that are well known in the fandom. But if I have to scroll to the beginning or end of the chapter to get a translation, I’m not really going to enjoy it. If you *really* want to write in another language (which I’m not at all against), just put the english dialogue in a different type/font to show it’s in a different language. 

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Megaman NT Warrior (Rockman.EXE). God I loved that show so much when I was younger. I used to carry around notebooks and whenever I had to go to appointments, or I was on the bus, I would jot down ideas and write out stories. But holy shit I was *awful* at it! 

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Floo-ke Encounters. It was so much fun to write from start to finish. Roy singing into a stapler and dancing around his office (And can I just say that I am beyond disappointed that NO ONE noticed that he was singing “The Ring of Fire” from Johnny Cash. DISSAPOINT.), Roy having a more or less panic attack as he realized that there were, in fact, TWO Edward Elrics existing at the same time, and Ed’s sheer glee in tormenting Roy. I love it! 

Tagging: @kylermalloy @konekowrites @kugisaki-nobara-rights

[syilcawrites]

flickering

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: One-shot Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: post calamity, pre botw2, what’s the tag for his adventuring in between?? just botw?, then that’s it LOL, angst Summary: Link scouts out Hyrule Castle to see how he should prepare to fight Ganon, and stumbles upon Zelda's bedroom and her diary after he believes he sees her there. Snippet: “It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.” A/N: I am terrible at summaries and was never good at them LOL. Anyway, this is just a little something for linktober Day 19: phantom/ghost! This is also loosely based off of my other fic archived memories chapter 6 :~) (which will be out tomorrow on Oct 20 haha). Hope you enjoy!! I like to spend a week editing whatever I write 'cause I tend to change it a lot but didn't have the luxury of doing it for this piece since I wrote it last night afouhgkjds.  You can also read it on ao3!

The first time Link stepped into Castletown, he was barraged with an incessant amount of echoing whispers.

Chaotic, haunting, loud and quiet, begging, pleading, bargaining. It felt like they were whispering about him, but he couldn’t decipher one word drifting into his ears.

He was by no means ready to take on Calamity Ganon—he had simply wanted to scope out the area, to see what he should expect—and he was hit with a wave of nostalgia that he didn’t understand.

Then came the nausea, and the painful throb against his head whenever he gazed upon the castle. It was different up close—the pain was worse, the stench that rifted off the malice was almost unbearable, and his eyes watered by being within ten feet of it.

But he marched onward—past the rubble and decay of a once grandiose town—or at least that’s what he assumed. It was hard to decipher what it used to look like amongst the ruins.

Link strolled up to one of the glowing eyeballs, staring into it for just a moment, before he stabbed it. It sputtered, shrinking, shriveling, before it withered away. He tightened his grip on the handle of his sword as he scanned the rest of the area.

More, his mind chanted. He wanted to see more of them crumble up into dust.

An unbearable anger always overcame him when he encountered anything inflicted by the malice—he wanted to tear at it with his own hands, rip and shred it into pieces until there was not even a speck left.

The overwhelming sense of hatred and revenge that dwelled deep within him feared him—because he couldn’t pinpoint why. He understood why, knew why, from an outside perspective. It took all of his dear friends and family one hundred years ago, but how the anger simmered within him like it ran through his veins felt unfamiliar to him.

His body remembered but his mind didn’t.

Link traversed the ruins of Castletown speedily, taking out the glowing eyeballs one by one and watching with satisfaction as they faded away—it felt like he was reclaiming the town back from the Calamity—whatever was left of it, at least. It was all he could do now.

“Okay,” he huffed out, peering at the large iron doors that stood between him and the castle. “One quick look inside, then you come right back out.” He whispered, gulping. He more frequently than not spoke to himself whenever he was alone—it grounded him, reminded him to stay focused.

“Free Zelda and all will be well,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on the various Guardians loitering the front. He would chant this before he fell asleep and it was the first thought that passed his mind when he woke up. It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.

Link pulled out his shield and sprinted forward—holding his breath as he struck his sword at a stationary Guardian before it could respond to his presence.

Again—that bloodthirsty anger laughed in joy as he watched it implode, and he pushed down the desire to tear apart the ones that had long stopped working, and forged ahead.

The heavy metal doors of the entrance slammed open as Link used magnesis, echoing. His nose scrunched up as the putrid stench of the malice slammed against him at full force—causing him to double over. Link his behind a crumbling wall to hide from the wandering eyes of the Guardians as he gathered his bearings.

“Do not encounter Calamity Ganon, not yet.” He whispered, warning. He wasn’t going to go in until he was absolutely prepared—he had already failed once. Link gritted his teeth as his grasped at the small, vague memories that he’s so far recovered. They were so fragmented and confusing, full of questions and questions and questions that lingering on them for too long caused his head to split open while his mind desperately tried to remember. But he never did, and in the end it only left him feeling like a hollow and fractured version of himself.

All he knew was that he had to stay alive—stay alive long enough to seal Calamity Ganon and to free Zelda.

Zelda.

His blood ran cold at he thought of her.

“Will she fade away, too?” Link whispered to the castle, glancing up at it.

It did not respond.

He forced his way through the entrance, using the wreckage to avoid needless confrontation. He needed to be quick, no matter how much he wanted to slaughter the rest of the Guardians and the malice. Once Link was inside, he found the orange glow enveloped around the castle unsettling, as if the air around here had stayed stagnant for the past century. It felt it was holding its breath, waiting. Or maybe it was slumbering.

Zelda. She was here, waiting.

Then, he thought of Mipha—and the way his heart dropped when he saw that cursed blueish glow around her, just like with the late King. She smiled at him with so much familiarity, but he could only stare blankly at her, mostly just confused. Her eyes gazed upon him with such love and comfort, but he could not return the same affection, even if he wanted to. He found it easier to—to detach himself a little bit. Untangle himself from the Champions when he encountered their spirits. He had one left—Urbosa—but he had to mentally steel himself to confront her, like he had to for Revali and Daruk. When he confronted the both of them after Mipha, he forced himself to reflect upon those past memories—his own past memories—as a mere spectator, and it helped.

Link shook his head, drawing himself back from the depths of his plagued mind. He circled around the ransacked interior—taking note of the blocked passages, the crumbles in the walls that acted as a makeshift pathway to another part of the castle, and attacked slumbering monsters who blocked his path with an all too personal rage.

And then he saw a tower outside from one of the windows, set a little apart from the main building. He would have to paraglide to it and climb up if he wanted to get in.

His eyes trailed up the tower, to the caved in wall and blinked—eyes widening when he saw something shift—blonde hair, green eyes, flickering.

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head and peered again, but it was still there—she’s there—looking at him.

Link, without a second thought, jumped through broken glass window, his paraglider wide open as he headed toward the isolated tower, heart racing.

He latched onto the broken tower and glanced up—he saw her peering down at him, smiling. She was familiar and warm, and... and so close. So, so close.

Link desperately climbed up—almost slipping toward the end—but reached up just far enough to latch onto the edge of the opening, and threw himself over. He fell onto the ground of the room with a heavy thud, and found himself face to face with an alarmed moblin.

Link quickly rolled off to the side, narrowly missing getting slammed head first with its stolen weapon, and was up in a heartbeat, his own weapon drawn. He mindlessly went through the quick, precise motion of eliminating it—simply allowing his body to move on its own, because if he dwelled too much on it, he became rigid.

He hated being out of sync within his own body.

Link exhaled with the final blow, and watched the moblin scatter into thin air, leaving him alone in the room.

With no one in sight, to his dismay. He wasn’t sure how long he searched every nook and cranny for those familiar green eyes and golden hair, but there was not even a hint of her ever being there in the first place.

With a heavy heart, Link walked toward the rotten desk, observing the scattered, torn books that lay in its wake. There was a flimsy notebook—leather ripped and torn, pages missing, but some of the writing was still legible.

Link flipped to the first page, reading the barely legible text at the front.

Zelda’s Diary.

He flipped through the carefully, as to not tear the pages, and found various scribbles and sketches—then a pressed cherry blossom flower in one of the pages, now brittle and brown. When he brushed a gentle finger over it, it crumbled immediately. His eyes scanned the next pages—various face portraits of Hylians. His lips tilted up a little when he passed by some sketches of food, of pastries and breads, or at least that’s what he assumed they were. It was hard to tell since many of them had faded away into the obscurity of time.

Then he found a familiar face, a face that he knew all too well.

It was messily sketched, but it was him—smiling, laughing, sometimes stoic, and it peered back at him like a stranger. It was him, but not really him. Link wished he could talk to the person he used to be, to ask him all of the questions that had piled up, but it was a futile desire.

He sighed as he peeled his eyes away from the sketches and flipped through the pages once more.

“Bit by bit, I’ve gotten Link to open up to me…”

He paused, lifting the journal up closer than ever to his face. His eyes drank in the words—words about him, who he was, how she saw him. He stopped at the end of the paragraph and closed the journal, staring down at it with confliction.

He took out the Sheikah Slate and slipped it into his inventory, and along with it, a little hope.

“I’ll keep this journal safe for you,” he whispered into the quiet room, his eyes roving around the falling, rotting objects that Zelda once owned, “so when you return, you’ll still have something.”

He waited for a couple moments, listening to the still air around him, as particles of malice floated peacefully by. He found it foolish that he even considered the possibility of her responding back and slapped his cheeks.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he muttered tiredly. He knew coming here would prove difficult—in terms of physicality, at least. He thought with time, settling into this new world would prove easier, but the distant reminders of the past associated with the wreckage of a world he once knew seemed to nail in how... alone he was.

Even without all of his memories, his heart ached with a heavy loneliness amidst a vast and broken land, because when it mattered most, he couldn’t save a single one of them. And then he left her, he left Zelda, to suffer by herself for one hundred years.

But he could do something now, even if it couldn’t bring back the lives lost. Even if she was going to simply drift away into the sky with the others, he could at least free her from the century of pain and torment she had endured waiting for him.

[winchester-reload]

hi! i just read your fic, After Dark (for the second time, it’s amazing, easily going into my top five favorite fics of all time, your writing and characterization of dean especially is phenomenal and knocked me off my feet), but i’m still a little fuzzy on the ending. if you find time, could you possibly explain? thank you so much, your writing is beautiful

Okay, so I know I’ve had this ask for a while. I haven’t been ignoring you. It’s just that this fic is one of those stories that was so consuming when I wrote it, I have a hard time diving back in when I get asks. It was my Everest. I was obsessed with finishing it but kept trying to die at the top of the mountain (so to speak).  I started writing it in June 2015 and didn’t finish it until December 2018. I have sooooo many notebooks filled with notes and rewrites for this story, it’s almost embarrassing. And, you’ve read it, so you probably know why: it’s INVOLVED. I mean, the very first chapter gives you the most important line from the penultimate chapter of the book.

So, yes. You know what? Let’s talk about After Dark. I’m ready.

Spoilers after the cut

I’m gonna do my best here to clear things up, but since you’re specifically asking about the end of the fic, I won’t do a complete chapter by chapter breakdown of the plot. Let’s instead pick up at Chapter 19 with a little more of a abridged version. 

In 19, we finally get our Sam breakdown of what he’s been trying to figure out from the beginning– why it struck him as odd that Dean and Cas had hooked up this time over all the times before. He realizes that the general assumption that God was the light that beat back the darkness wasn’t actually a metaphorical idea, but was, in fact, a literal one. God wasn’t the thing that conquered the Dark, the light he yielded was. That light was Love. Fun side note: The sources Sam cites in that chapter to support his theory are all actual academic sources/philosophical ideas. You can look any of them up to find out more about love as a daemon, or The Unity of Opposites theory. So, Dean now knows that Cas is being used by Alice for something, but doesn’t know what.

Ch 20: Alice explains that the only thing that can save Dean’s soul from its eternal fate with the Darkness is if he’s “released” (so to speak) by his light. She says that the way it works is through Cas’ ultimate broken heart.

“If he takes you, you don’t die out of hate, or spite, or fear,” she whispered. “There’s no jealousy or malice or revenge. You die in stark contrast to all those things. It’s the opposite of everything he’s ever wanted for you— Wanted with you. Everything he’s ever hoped or dreamed or fought for; he does it only because he loves you, and it’s that selflessness that cleanses the shadows. It’s the power of a broken heart.”

It’s Cas’ sacrifice that will save Dean’s soul. Alice is careful to tell Dean that he was never going to survive this. Cas  and everyone else is supposed to, but for Dean, it was always just a matter of where his soul ended up. 

Cas, of course, says he’ll do it and that Dean needn’t ask, because there’s not really a choice here.

Ch 21: We pick back up with an echo of Rowena and realize that everything she told him in Chapter 2 actually came true. (weird, right?)

Ch 22: Cas wakes up at “the start”, only, this time’s he’s fundamentally changed from the journey. It’s in this chapter that we find out why Cas was getting glimpses from the ‘end of the story’ throughout the book: 

Angels are ethereal. They’re not contained to a specific timeline–this is something they’ve talked about in canon. It was ONLY while Cas had his grace AND was actively dying that he was able to see snippets of the things that would happen after the events in Chapter 20. (IE: the dream he had in Chapter 8 of Crowley, the dream in Ch 15 where he’s walking across the field where the Winchesters crashed, even though he hadn’t actually been there yet, etc)  It turned out he wasn’t actually seeing or speaking to Rowena. She was more a figment of his subconscious as he tried to warn himself where this story was going. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really any way for him to stop the train. HOWEVER,

In Cas’ lame attempt to keep from drowning Dean like “The Fish” Rowena kept calling him, he’d made the conscious decision to give Dean some “wings” in Chapter 15. The grace had proven threatening/effective enough in the fight against the Darkness to that point, that it had spent the entire story trying to snuff Cas out. It was also the only element keeping Cas from becoming infected by the Darkness the same way Sam and the rest of the people were, which is why Cas quickly became infected after extracting it. 

So, when Dean got the grace in Chapter 15, it was enough to pull him back out of the Darkness’ grip and bring him back to life.

When Cas comes out the other side of the spell in this chapter, alive, as he was supposed to be, he realizes that everything had reset like Alice said it would– Except for him. He was still wearing the same clothes, and still dying from his own self-inflicted knife wound (sans Darkness insanity). (Dean, remember, was not supposed to reset. The actions he took during the fic were always supposed to be permanent for him.) 

It’s then that Cas understands that it’s not over yet; they’re still fundamentally connected through Cas’ grace, and that means, there’s a CHANCE that Dean’s still alive too (and with Cas’ grace). He asks Crowley to teleport him to the field he saw in his dream and it’s here that he finds Dean, still clinging to life and staring up at the newly found stars.

Cas rallies his grace one last time by laying a hand on the burn mark left on Dean, and uses the rest of it to save him. Then, the very exhausted, very exsanguinated human Cas topples over in the field.

Ch 23: is probably where I lost you and I’m gonna tell you, it’s very intentional that I’ve made you unsure. 

It starts with a dreamlike Cas in the field staring at the back of an ambulance bed. There are elements of the Darkness around him, filtering into the sky. He panics when he thinks it’s Dean on the back of the stretcher dead, but specifically points out the bare feet (Dean was in socked feet. It was mentioned multiple times in Chapter 18-20). Alice then comes out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground. She’s our dream stand-in for the things the EMTs are doing to save Cas in that moment (Cas was the one with bare feet) while she warns him that the Darkness is not gone. She tells him she’s proud of him for finding a loophole, but that he shouldn’t believe he’s won. He should, in fact, fear the opposite. 

“…it doesn’t matter how fucking proud of you I am for finding it” she says. “The truth of the matter is, it’s gonna take what it’s owed— Or try… ”

Cas then wakes up in Dean’s bed and Dean tells him he was having another nightmare. It’s established at this point that Cas has been having a lot of them since becoming human. So much so, that Dean is practiced in dealing with bringing Cas back down. Cas gets frustrated with the situation and with himself and goes to wander through the bunker and get water. Dean chases after him, like the good caretaker he is.

Cas tells Dean that he doesn’t believe it’s a nightmare. He believes that the conversation with Alice really happened and that the Darkness is not gone, but, maybe, lying in wait either to attack again, or, even, MAYBE, that it already has him… (Not Dean, but Cas this time. Like a trade.)

This leaves us, the reader with the uneasy feeling that that might be true. We’re in Cas’ POV and the last we saw him, he was face down in a field bleeding out from a wound he was probably not gonna be able to recover from. If he’s not sure what’s real and what’s a dream, then how can we be? This is amplified by the fact that everything Cas has done in the story to this point has been proven true, so we want to believe him. But his unsureness feels so much more like the answer we don’t want. 

Our unease is punctuated by small things like 1. Dean wearing a purple shirt* when Cas had specifically named that as a color he’d never seen Dean wear before (Ch 19). And then, of course, 2. the fact that his coat is there when it shouldn’t be. Did Alice leave it? Why would she leave it? How could she leave it?

We’re left, like Cas, not sure if the story has ended like it appears to have ended. We’re unsure if they both made it out safe. If they’re really together. And with everything so damn woven, how can we just have these plot holes???? 

But, that’s also kind of the nature of the trauma Cas has endured. And, if he wasn’t really living this moment with Dean, then why is he healing slowly from his wounds? Why is he out of breath before he gets to the kitchen? (You know how it is when you’ve been laid up for a long stint. EVERYTHING IT HARD.) 

So, you, like Cas, find yourself placing your trust in Dean as he reassures Cas that it wouldn’t matter if it’s not over.

 “Because you an’ me, we’re unbreakable.” 

And now this is where you really hate me because I’m not going to tell you one way or the other. I’m gonna let the story speak for itself. I will say that I would NEVER want to put them through all of that if they couldn’t live in the sunshine on the other side, though.

*more on the color purple

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - EIGHT

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 1.524

Warnings: I don’t know, there’s guns?

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

And a little inspiration from ‘Furious 7’.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @katerka88 @littlefreya @hell1129-blog @mitzwinchester @mary-ann84 @valkavill @sciapod @henry-cavlll @luclittlepond @iloveyouyen @trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia @omgkatinka @gothwhopper @fcgrizi @vania-marie @alyxkbrl​ @readings-of-a-cavill-lover​ @singeramg​ @onlyhenrys​ @henrythickcavill​ @madbaddic7ed​ @palaiasaurus64​ @mis-lil-red @queenslandlover-93​ (I’m so sorry I haven’t tagged you until now, love, I think I must have run into some technical issues when I wrote your URL in my document with tags, but you’re there now to stay)

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [NINE] [TEN]

“Don’t worry brother. I’ll save you instead.”

There was a knock on the door. August quickly closed the laptop. He moved with stealth towards the wooden entrance, silently clicking the safety off on his gun. He looked into the peephole and let out a breath of relief.

He opened the heavy door to let his tech-associate inside.

“Were you followed?” He asked as he investigated the hallway, it was empty.

“No,” Marc sounded offended. “Listen, Lark…”

“My cover has been blown, call me Smith.”

“Fine, Smith. You’re in deep shit. The bounty on your head has doubled, and now it’s definitely dead instead of DOA. You need to move away from here, go to some island and lay low for a few years.”

“Marc… I don’t have a few years.”

“Smith, you’re being hunted. Every government agency in the world is looking for you.”

“I know.”

“If you are recognized, I won’t be able to help you out of this country.”

“I know.”

“You need to keep moving.”

“I have a place in mind. But you’re not going to like it.”

“If you say that shitty cabin in Northern Thailand…”

“I won’t say it.”

“But it is that place. Fuck man! That place has no connection to the outer world! No internet. The nearest village is 10K away…” Marc took a deep breath, “But it is the safest place for you right now.”

“When can you arrange a flight?”

“Let me talk to my contacts. I’ll have a plan by tomorrow.”

Melanie could guess from the knocking who was on the other side of the door. She smiled brightly at the grumpy face that met her.

“Good morning, Walter,” she chimed happily.

“Morning, where’s my brother?” He grunted.

“Answering a phone call. Coffee?”

“Yes, black, no sugar.”

Melanie poured the dark liquid into a mug and handed it to him. Lucas walked out of his bedroom with a grim look on his face.

“Luc, what’s wrong?”

“That was Aiden. The bounty on August’s head has doubled. It’s up to two hundred million now, and they want him dead.”

Lucas plopped down on the sofa and ran his good hand over his beard.

“Then we better get started on finding him,” Walter mumbled.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Lucas’ voice sounded hopeless.

“You can start by telling me, when and where you last saw him.”

Walter wrote down the information, Lucas was giving him in a little black notebook that looked brand new.

“My brother, Charlie, works for the FBI, he should be able to help a little with this case.”

“Should I arrange for travel plans for Iraq? That’s where you last saw him,” Melanie inquired. The two bulking men stared at her.

“Don’t think he’s back in the Middle East, Mel. He might have passed through and gone across the border to hide in another country,” Lucas explained.

“Then how are we going to find him?”

“We’d have to speak to the people that know him. His colleagues, his adopted parents, his friends, if he had any, and so forth,” Walter chimed in.

“Alright, then it seems we’re going to Virginia after we’ve talked to your FBI brother.”

Walter and Lucas swallowed their cooled down coffees, they were mimicking each other without knowing it. They held the mugs the same way, on the opposite side of the handle and chugged the black liquid. They would lean their heads back a little to catch the last drops before putting down the empty cup with a loud thud.

Melanie was amazed by the two men, who looked so much like each other, but at the same time looked so different. One with long curly hair, the other with a military styled buzz cut. They both looked intimidating as hell, and Melanie prayed she’d never get interrogated by those two brothers.

Walter led them towards his truck. The drive took almost an hour before he parked at what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

Melanie felt Lucas tensing up next to her. He made sure to walk in front of her. She knew it was to protect her, but at the same time, she was annoyed, because he knew that she knew how to bring a man to his knees, in more ways than one.

Walter opened the steel door. He motioned with his head to follow him.

Inside looked to be a normal old warehouse with an abundant number of wooden crates. The smell of the room was awful. The waft of rotting fish and mould mixed together in the worst way possible hit Melanie’s nostrils. She nearly gagged at the odious place.

A door opened across the room, lighting up the dark room.

“Good to see you out of the police station for once, little brother,” the man said with a smile. He wrapped Walter into his arms. Melanie noticed that Walter didn’t wholeheartedly return the hug. Charlie Marshall was taller than his adoptive brother, but not as broad and muscular. His blonde hair was cut short at the sides and longer at the top. His deep ocean eyes were dancing with mischief until he locked eyes with Melanie. The smile disappeared from his lips and was replaced with a more curious look.

“Charlie, this is my brother, Lucas, and his sister, Melanie,” Walter introduced them. Charlie walked around his brother and greeted Lucas with a firm handshake, while he kissed the back of Melanie’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you both. Walt told me about you last night, come in and I’ll show you what I’ve found so far.”

Lucas was burning holes into Charlie’s skull. Having not liked him kissing his sister’s hand. Melanie was elated to be shown a little attention.

“Charlie, back off. She’s not here for you,” Walter grumbled and walked into the tiny office space. A black-haired woman was sitting in front of multiple screens, tapping on the keyboard in front of her at lightning speed.

“This is Raven, she’s a hacker and technology expert. We’re doing this behind the scenes because we want to find your lost brother as soon as possible,” Charlie explained.

Raven didn’t look up but grumbled a greeting of some sort.

“How are we going to find August?” Lucas asked.

“With this,” Raven motioned to the screens. The monitors filled out a picture of the earth moving. A picture of August sitting on the top left.

“What does it do?” Melanie asked.

“It’s using all the cell phones with cameras to find him, kinda like God’s Eye from Fast and Furious.”

“Is this legal?”

“Not at all. That’s why we’re here, hiding from the rest of the world. This is only used during emergencies, and I consider this an emergency.”

“Found him yet?” Lucas grunted. He stood behind Melanie with a rank back and stern look. Walter stood almost in the same stance next to him, except he had his arms folded across his chest.

“Last time he was seen, was in an unused airport hangar in Northern Italy last night. He could have travelled anywhere since then,” Charlie said.

“How long?” Walter muttered.

“Hours, days, weeks. I don’t know, he’s really good at hiding,” Raven threw her arms in the air.

“Then there’s nothing to do but go to Virginia. Call us, when you have something, and thank you, Raven, for helping us,” Melanie sent the pale woman a soft smile and went to walk out the tiny room. Lucas, Walter and Charlie followed her to the truck.

“Thank you, for your help so far,” Lucas told Charlie and held out his good hand.

“If I had a lost brother, I’d do anything to find him too.”

Charlie winked at Melanie and walked back into the building. Walter drove the two back to the hotel in silence. Everyone was grumbling over their own things.

“Thanks for your help, Walter,” Melanie cut through the silence when he parked.

“I’m coming with you to Virginia,” Walter told them.

“What about your daughter?” Lucas asked.

“She said, and I quote: ‘You either find your long-lost brother and bring him home, or I’ll be the worst rebellious teenager that’s ever existed in the history of police-dads.’”

“Three tickets to Virginia, coming right up,” Melanie smiled.

The plane ride was fast and short. They landed, got their luggage, found the rented car and drove to the hotel. Another huge suite with three bedrooms. At first, Lucas wanted three separate bedrooms next to each other, but Melanie had stubbornly told him off that he needed her help with his broken arm. Walter didn’t have a say in anything as Melanie shut him up with a fiery glare.

They ventured out towards the house where the lost brother had grown up. The house looked like it needed a loving hand with the front garden, and the paint on the front door was slowly peeling off in large spots.

Walter rang the bell and knocked loudly. They heard a commotion inside before the door was opened. A short woman with greying hair stood in front of them. Her eyes widened and tears formed at the corners.

“August? Is that you?”