#sometimes even when i'm writing in english i'll think about... a concept

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Resident Evil Village characters with a chubby fem s/o

Dating Headcanons (+ Some bonus drabbles for a few)

Including Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moreau and Mother Miranda

(Reader is somewhat coquette? Princesscore? Just the dainty feminine type)

Credits to dividers used are on this post.

Rules for requests

If you don't want to send requests through Tumblr, my Instagram is always an option.

Please interact with this post as much as possible, it helps a lot. Thank you <3

A/n: Hi lovelies, Lia here. I'm back after a long time. I hope you enjoy this post and I'll be setting up my schedule soon, I'll be posting once or twice every 1-2 week/s. If you can't tell, purple has always been my theme. I'll add more to these and edit it if I think of more to add. Any mistakes will be corrected upon checking.

This is just me but I love the concept of like a girl who is so sweet and her style just looks so fem and she's just surrounded by all the creepy things that are resident evil.

I'll be checking and if this post does well I will write more.

Warnings/Disclaimers: English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Blood, gore?, violence, typical resident evil stuff and mentions of insecurity. Slight suggestive content if you squint.

Alcina Dimitrescu

First of all despite your plush stature, she still treats you like a porcelain doll.

She just adores you so much (I mean she herself is tall and plus size).

Motherly nature and all, she has three daughters and honestly if she ever sees you interact with them. It would just warm her cadou infested heart.

Insecure about stretch marks? She'll kiss that shit away right then and there. She'll even show you hers because let's be honest here stretch marks are beautiful, you just don't like them on yourself.

Anyone insults or talks shit about you? She'll get rid of them, in any way possible depending on what they said. She'll pick a suitable punishment for them, ranges from "you're fired" to "I'm going to skin you alive and tear your heart out".

Alcina is a confident and dominant figure, she isn't swayed by something so small as beauty standards. Especially in herself, therefore I think she'd even help you build your confidence up.

Gifts galore with this woman, she love to spoil you with her riches. Loves to see you adorned with luxurious items that she give you.

Love dressing up with you, seeing you all dolled up for her. Has custom made clothes for you, sometimes opts for an outfit that matches or contrasts yours perfectly.

Knows what compliments your features best since she loves to bring them out.

Her hosting soirees and balls with you as her special guest, having you wear elegant dresses that she bought for you.

I see her as this almost touchy type. She'll love having you curl up on her lap while she gets paperwork done.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

You called Alcina's attention wanting to see her reaction to the new dress you bought, Alcina's eyes lit up at your elegance and charm. She smiled warmly, taking your hand in hers. "You look enchanting, my darling," she purred, proud to have you by her side.

Karl Heisenberg

Stinky metal dilf here actually loves that you're so soft in contrast to his gruff and abrasive nature.

He hasn't had physical affection in a long time so having someone soft and warm to hold is new to him.

Karl is naturally protective over you, especially because he thinks you're fragile. I mean compared to whatever's in the village, the rest of the lords and Mother Miranda.

I bet you this man has tore down someone for you, he chopped them off limb by limb for insulting you.

I can't get enough of the dynamic you'd have. It's like the grumpy x sunshine trope, this man has a sharp tongue. Especially when you hear him insult Lady Dimitrescu.

This man has a soft spot for you, I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can make him take a bath after being all sweaty from working with machinery all day.

I feel like he has scars all of his body, especially his very toned back.

Doesn't mind you leaving scratches when you're in the bedroom

Alcina sometimes tries to piss him off by commenting at the fact that you are soft and dainty while Karl is just the opposite and offers you an opportunity to be with "Someone refined" (She ain't wrong).

It really is just to get to Karl's nerves.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Karl smirked, trying to play it cool, but you could see the admiration in his eyes. "Not bad, princess," he teased, pulling you into a hug. He whispered softly, "You're somethin' special, ya know?"

Donna Beneviento

You know Donna understands what it's like being insecure about looks but to her you're just perfect in every single way.

Donna just doesn't give a shit in a good way, she doesn't judge people based on their appearance. It's dumb and shallow.

Donna would absolutely adore making clothes for you or altering your current ones. It's a skill she's proud of and seeing you appreciate it makes her all the more in love with you.

Angie has made a few comments resulting in her getting kicked off into space but once Donna warms her about that and how you don't like it, she'll stop in respect towards you. Which is rare considering how Angie is.

Donna's personal style definitely helps contrast yours, though it's the opposite from your soft light colors.

Thinks you're so pretty, she's smitten. Even though yours are different from you, she still makes use of her skills to fit your clothing tastes.

I can just imagine her staring at you in awe as you spin around and show her how the dress she made fits you. I like to think she has your measurements memorized from head to toe.

She take one look at something and already know how it would fit on you or if she needs to alter.

You once asked her to make a doll that looks like the both of you (and Angie but like a smaller version that fits the doll's arms).

Donna entered your shared bedroom to find you but noticed something on the shelves. It was the dolls she made sitting against the book. She noticed how you positioned them. Holding hand while the tiny Angie replica was on the doll version of her's lap. Donna swore at that moment she was gonna melt.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Donna's expression softened as she saw you in the vintage lace dress. She held your hand, wordlessly conveying her affection and admiration.

Salvatore Moreau

God so help him, he was flabbergasted when he first heard about your insecurity. Literally why? Like you are just the most beautiful thing that walked the planet in his eyes.

He just worships the ground you walk on, he isn't as wealthy as the other lords but still, he give you his best efforts by carving you small trinkets out of wood.

Gifts you natural things he finds like crystals and whatnot.

Best of efforts when he comforts you. Sometimes he's too scared to physically touch you because he thinks he'll hurt you.

You're relationship is filled mostly by nature, despite the wasteland that surrounds your living area. It's hauntingly beautiful in it's own way. (Some of it I suppose)

Feels more at ease around you, think about how much he wanted to just make Mother Miranda proud of him, he's that with you but 10x more the effort.

His reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to him:

Salvatore couldn't contain his delight at seeing you in the dress. "You're my beautiful water nymph princess!" he exclaimed, spinning you around with excitement.

Mother Miranda

You peeked her interest when she first saw you, I mean you're her complete opposite. She finds beauty in dark items and almost gothic stuff, so her taking an interest to you just made her even more curious.

She works a lot so gifts and trinkets to remind you of her are an occasional thing. I can just imagine you taming crows and she's just in awe.

Loyalty of crows means they leave you shiny trinkets and sometimes Miranda takes them for herself when she likes whatever they bring.

Again she's one to think you're fragile because of your style, you just look so cute and soft.

Nobody dares insult you, I mean if you really won the heart of Mother Miranda they are fucked if they even speak a little out of line.

Likes to keep you by her side despite working a lot. So you'd often be by her side during her meetings with the four lords and honestly you are such an eye candy.

Her reaction seeing you in a dress that you wanted to show off to her:

Mother Miranda's composure remained regal, but her eyes showed approval. "You look exquisite" she acknowledged, holding your hand with reverence. To her, you were a jewel among mortals, deserving of admiration.

[aebinspa]

come and love me

PAIRING: jiwoong x y/n reader

GENRES: fluff, jiwoong and your sister are best friends and you are convinced that they love each other, christmas atmosphere with a slightly awkward reader BUT thank god jiwoong knows how to handle you!

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: english is not my first language! something short and sweet for jiwoong christmas themed. i'm writing something longer on hanbin but i have no idea when i'll finish it :( in the meantime, i hope this is decent enough!

“Jiwoong, how about this?” “Your sister would never wear this. Put it back in its place”

You and Jiwoong had known each other for a few years now; the one who brought you together was your crazy sister, who, in addition to sharing the same age with Jiwoong, had also shared her adolescence with him. On a summer day during her last year of high school, your sister urged you to come down from your bedroom to meet a tall, imposing boy named Jiwoong. Despite only being two years older, Jiwoong seemed unaware of your age. He leaned down to touch your head gently and whispered to your sister that you were cute—cute like a child.

It was the first time your face turned so red because of a man and you realized, after spending two weeks trying to chase away every thought directed to your sister's best friend, that perhaps love at first sight was a concept closer to you than you could have ever imagined.

Despite the four years since that first fateful meeting, every moment near Jiwoong made you sigh: your chance had never come and you didn't know how to make it come. When you stopped to look at him for too long, you felt like you were betraying your sister. Jiwoong, on the other hand, seemed to make every probable move of yours impossible: the affection he showed for your sister, the embarrassment every time the chance of being alone with you arose and the refusal every time you asked him to do something with you - that didn't include your sister - were clear signs. And in fact, you had only met together to plan your sister's Christmas present.

“Nothing is ever good enough for you,” you huffed, passing the boy and the window that the store had set up outside as well. Jiwoong followed you with an equally fast pace, then put a hand on your shoulder. “Stop for a moment, Y/n.” “Are you done telling me what to do?”

Jiwoong raised his eyebrow, knowing full well that you would continue with your speeches. And so you did. “My sister is your only thought, everyone knows that. We are here to buy her a gift, not to choose the ring with which you will propose to her. Let's go pick something and go home."

You adjusted your scarf and gloves before turning and walking towards Jiwoong’s car. Even though you had been walking for a while, you didn’t hear the footsteps of the man who had accompanied you; you instinctively turned only to find yourself facing faces you had never seen before on the snowy sidewalk.

It wasn’t just cold outside, but also inside your heart. Watching people walk past you without even touching you or wondering why you had been absentmindedly staring at a fixed point for a few minutes made something click in you. And you started to cry silently. Oh, you wished you were kinder, prettier, older, or maybe you just wanted to be perfect for Jiwoong. But you hated every depressing thought and, immediately after, you tried to think of something else, convinced that taking your mind off your sister’s best friend would stop you from crying.

The tears froze immediately and ended up irritating your already red skin. Your nose was dripping and there was no one kind enough to hand you a tissue. You ended up sitting on a nearby bench and continued to cry undisturbed. Sometimes, without paying too much attention to it, you would pass your jacket over your face to dry your eyes; luckily, you were makeup-free and had your lip balm with you.

“You're a mess.” The sudden voice made you jump, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you looked up, startled. “Jiwoong?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.

He settled down onto the bench beside you, the cold wood creaking slightly under his weight. His expression was a mix of concern and amusement as he offered you three packets of tissues. You accepted them almost instinctively, your gaze fixed firmly on the ground, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

The air around you was filled with the sweet scent of pine from the glittering Christmas tree nearby. Jiwoong paused, his focus momentarily captivated by the vibrant decorations that adorned the tree. Despite the silence that surrounded the bustling holiday festivities, he continued talking to you as if the world around you faded away, clearly oblivious to the signs that hinted he should perhaps ease off.

“Your eyes were sadder than usual today. Is there anyone I should beat up for you?” “Stop acting like a big brother just because my sister told you to,” you sniffed and the noise scared a child nearby. “Your sister yelled at me for a whole two hours yesterday. Considering her average, that was pretty good.”

Suddenly, Jiwoong - who you were still mad at, let’s be clear - had caught your attention. You turned to him and he stood in front of you with his arms folded and a nasty smile on his face.

“Why did you upset my sister?” you demanded, your voice laced with frustration. Jiwoong's expression turned serious as he replied, “Because I told her I love you and that I wanted to give you a trip—” Before he could finish, you lunged forward, instinctively covering his mouth with your hand, your heart racing. “No! That’s not true!” you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest. With a gentle yet amused look in his eyes, Jiwoong carefully pulled your hand away from his mouth, a teasing smile beginning to form on his lips. “But it is,” he insisted, the warmth in his gaze contrasting with the turmoil brewing inside you.

“Y/n, listen to me.” “No,” you turned away, unable to handle the sudden new emotion that was building in your body. “Y/n,” Jiwoong leaned into your ear and whispered the final words that were needed to finish the sentence, “I’m in love with you. Give me a chance!”

You let out a scream before turning to him and looking into his eyes. All eyes were now on you. “You’ve been in love with my sister your whole life, liar.” “I love her like a friend loves a friend.” Jiwoong raised his eyebrow. “Fuck! I- When I was younger I tried so hard to start something but you always rejected me!”

“That’s true. But I took my time. I didn’t want to throw away the friendship I had with your sister just for a relationship that had no sense. I was young. Many years have passed and I realized that it won’t be that easy for me to get rid of you”

Your eyes were shining with a strange light, Jiwoong noticed it and leaned down to kiss you softly. Applause followed from the people around you that made you immediately detach yourself, surprised by the sudden audience.

Jiwoong smiled at you and so did you. “Um, so, you love me, I love you-” “Your sister approved all of this and we can go on vacation. These are the plans” “What if it doesn't work?” you asked, finally coming to your senses. Jiwoong gently took your hands in his and forced you to look into his eyes. “Rest assured that nothing and no one will be able to separate you from me”

[tossawary]

As I post about rereading SVSSS for lore and characterization, and about sometimes ignoring canonical details for the sake of whatever story I want to tell / explore in fanfiction for fun, I want to make it clear that I don't make these changes because I think it makes a "better story" or that I can write a "better story". I don't even like using the term "fix-it" for my canon divergence AUs that avert some in-universe tragedy, even if it is the "correct" fandom term in some cases, because I don't think that SVSSS is a story that needs to be "fixed".

(Honestly, a lot of my minor alterations to canon's details are because I can't remember what exactly canon is and can't always be bothered to hunt for one sentence (which I may or may not remember existing at all) across multiple volumes, especially when I don't always think strict faithfulness to canon is that crucial to the main concept of what I'm doing. I wrote PINTWILF and several other fics before the official English translations were fully released, when checking minor details was an even greater pain in the ass. Sometimes, I'm cooking without the recipe in front of me because I just want to eat.)

Like, I have criticisms of SVSSS, definitely. When I first started writing SVSSS fic, I was more frank about this (fond but less fond of the characters and world than I am now), and I've talked about things I wished the story expanded on more. I think it has flaws. I know those flaws are a dealbreaker for many people. But it's not my story. I can't tell MXTX's story better, because I believe that every author's story belongs to them and only they know what they're trying to achieve, even when I may personally think that the story might have been stronger if it had done something differently or I'm ignoring some minor detail specifically because I don't really like it.

It's awkward, sometimes, occasionally being told by someone that they enjoyed my fic more than the original story. It's very flattering (I can't pretend I don't have an ego) and I don't think anyone means any harm by this, people enjoy stories or don't for many different reasons (enjoyment is not necessarily an indication of quality and I think engaging with fandom can often be more fun than just reading a story on its own by yourself), but it is a little awkward, especially when SVSSS is not an English / western story. I have an advantage appealing to western readers. Reading a translation of the original story, I know there are details of SVSSS going over my heard, references I'm missing, nuances I don't recognize, even as I endeavor to keep learning. I personally enjoy some of my fics more than SVSSS itself because I associate them with good experiences and a lot of them appeal to me personally in some way or another (all of my favorite tropes! we all have favorite tropes!), but they are built on the back of someone else's original work on the other side of the world, and I want to be respectful of that.

I don't want to compete or fix. I'm not trying to compete or fix, I think I would fuck it up if anyone seriously set that task on me, and I don't think that's a good way to view anything. I want to explore and appreciate. I'll type up a lengthy post at some point as to why I'm generally not interested in concrit on my fics (honestly, mostly it's because I'm not interested in being told that a reader hates the present tense and wishes I would rewrite the entire story, which has happened to me before), but I hope that doesn't come off as disinterest in the original story or its cultural context, or as me thinking even a little bit that any of my stories are flawless and/or better than the original.

I want to make a "why would you put two bad bitches (compliment) against each other like this?" joke here, but I also want to be clear: I think MXTX is by far the badder bitch (compliment) in this situation.

(Turning off reblogs, btw, because this post skews more on the personal side.)

[north-noire]

what's your process for writing? :3

my writing process: I stare at my document file for hours and weep, repeat until writing gets miraculously done.

In all seriousness I tend to already have outlines ready for future chapters and stuff like that ready (and an idea of what I'd like to happen in the arcs/timeline of events). I've already had like a vague outline of my entire fic as a whole, but that's just kind of my own version of what happens in FNAF LMAO. I also just sometimes brainstorm, imagine new scenes that seems fitting for future chapters and list it down for me to write!

Though sometimes, even my writing execution just sometimes makes me have to divert/change plans up for chapters since sometimes writing's a bit unpredictable and sometimes some ideas I have just come out of nowhere/don't work anymore!

I talk back and forth about ideas with some friends/my alpha reader and bounce back ideas between them! It's really fun brainstorming with people and being able to put my ideas into words before writing it down. I also sometimes draw it out as concept art since it's fun visualizing some of my ideas!

Of course I still base most of the ideas from the actual source material (the games, some parts of the book trilogy) but since this is an AU I'm allowed to explore some "what-if" ideas and be able to have some creative freedom with it without worry since it is an AU after all! I get to do/explore things the way I want without worrying about judgment since this isn't really canon-compliant.

I take very long in actual writing stage (for obvious reasons), and after completing my rough/first draft I let it sit for a few days or a week before reading it again with a fresh pair of eyes and edit/revise/add new scenes accordingly. Sometimes I just make scenes out, no matter how bad it may be at first, and then just let revising/editing do my work for me. Sometimes I also have readied drafts for some scenes of future chapters that I can come back to, put it in the document and just rewrite it/rework it to be better suited for the narrative.

I tend to take my time longer during the editing/revising stage for a lot of things; I'm a perfectionist, I tend to sort of heavily criticize my work, and I worry a lot about its quality at the end of the day, and sometimes I realize that I need to fully revise the scene or fully rewrite a scene since it's lacking something/I'm missing a scene that should essentially be there. It's a hard battle, and an admittedly frustrating process.

That, and irl responsibilities makes it hard to just read through it sometimes.

During those breaks I sometimes read books/literature so that I can come back to editing/revising with fresh new knowledge on how I can improve or be able to know how I'll handle writing again.

After editing/revising is done, I just hand off the beta-reading to my beta readers, which also takes a while; we're all having irl responsibilities after all, and I mostly go to them back and forth about their feedback since it is nice having fresh eyes on your work WHILE also getting feedback from "first-time readers" of my work and what the readers might think of it when I publish it. They also help me with minor editing stuff since I'm not an English speaker (English isn't my first language) and their feedback really helps!

And then I usually draw out the cover chapter, and when my chapter's published, I do a nice little celebration for myself, since I take very long on chapter updates/making the actual chapters! It's important to celebrate the little victories we have, after all :]

Sorry for the SUPER long post, but since it is the writing process, I might as well share the ups and downs of my own writing process anyway XD Hope this helps?

[russellsppttemplates]

Hold my hand through it (Pierre Gasly)

Like Pierre is there for you, you are there for him, even if you think you're just doing something simple for him

Note: english is not my first language. this is a long piece after what feels like a lifetime, I hope I can still do it well enough, and, like I always do, I like to say this to make it clear: this request is special because this is a topic that I feel huge responsibility writing about and I feel grateful that I'm trusted enough to have it be requested.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests (big pieces and blurbs too) so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

✨️ my masterlist ✨️

Tw: mentions Spa 2023 (the run and the reason that prompted it without too much detail), nervousness, curse words

"Do you have everything, amour?", you asked Pierre, grabbing your small bag once all the luggage was inside the car's trunk, "Yes, all ready to go".

You managed to sort your agenda out so you could travel with Pierre to this weekend's race, meaning you would also be travelling in a private plane with him and some of his media team a little bit earlier on the week as you usually did, "do you want to sit by the window or the aisle?", Pierre asked once you reached the two seats row, offering for Pierre to go on the window side, "you know I'll need the bathroom a million times", you chuckled, checking if your phone was on aeroplane mode and getting ready for take off.

The sky was particularly grey and you could surely feel that when you were flying, especially everytime the plane crossed through a heavy cloud, shaking and bouncing slightly. You had gone to use the bathroom, opening the door when one of the small bounces became noticeable, making you walk around and check if everyone was okay until you reached your seat, seeing Pierre nervously tap his fingers on the arm rest, "hey, are you okay?", you said, sitting down and lifting the arm rest between you two, snuggling into him while you began talking, "Did I tell you about what happened at the lab this week? We were gathering all the participants and two of them have the same name, like, the exact same name", you continued, hoping to distract him from the movements on the plane.

.

Another weekend, another poor result from Pierre, his P6 result early on in the season now a faint and a little less hopeful memory. "Why do I keep going like this? It's almost like it's not meant to be", Pierre said, running his fingers through his hair.

Sitting next to him on the hotel bed, you urged him to lay his head on your chest, taking your own support on the headboard, "you know how things work, sometimes you have a good one, sometimes it all goes to shit", you noted, "not all things are on your control, which sucks, and needs to be talked through with the people that know about it", you offered some advice in the best of your abilities, knowing how these things worked as well.

"Do you think I can still get anything from this season?", he asked, a genuine tone of fear and uncertainty in the way he spoke, and it stung your heart a little. Who were you to tell him it would all be good when you didn't know it?

"I don't know, I can't tell you that you will always win. Or that you will always finish in the points. But I do know if you work hard like you usually do, good things you'll come your way. You can't work this hard and come this far to not get rewarded, my love. You can trust yourself to do your best, and to have the people that love you backing you up", you kissed the top of his head, "will you be here?", he asked.

"Of course I'll be, P. I don't care where you are on the grid as long as you are happy. I want you to succeed, but I always hope you never have to give up your happiness for it, nor your well-being", you said, feeling himself squeeze you closer to him, "how about we FaceTime your nieces and nephews? I bet they're dying to tell you some cool stories from their favourite uncle?".

.

"Y/N!", Pierre yelled for you from the home office, prompting you to lower the heat on the stove until you turn it off, wiping your hands in a kitchen towel before heading up the stairs to see Pierre with his iPad on his lap and his laptop screen showing the circuit for the next race.

"Dinner is almost ready, amour", you said kissing the top of his head, "what are you working on?", you asked, looking for any clues since none of his simulator gadgets were connected to his technological devices.

"I have this idea, and I don’t know how it will play out, I don't know if people will even adhe-", he stumbled his words out until you interrupted him, "how about you tell me, hm? We can go from there", you smiled, pushing the chair you usually use when you're working from home and listening to his idea. After he explained it to you, you smiled, "I think it's a beautiful idea, P", you said, kissing his hand you were holding on your own.

Like you promised him you'd do, you joined everyone else for the Spa run for the drivers who had unfortunately lost their lives there. Being there alone always made Pierre feel everything a little bit stronger, and knowing he had you there, amongst all the people that joined him despite the rainy conditions to honour the drivers.

.

You wanted to allow Pierre to unwind, so you put matters into your own hands. Since he was arriving home earlier than usual, you made the bed with fresh linen, got a cosy meal ready to bake in the oven and started getting the bath ready when he said he would be home in ten minutes, filling up the bath and lathering a nice smelling foam so you could spend a good amount of time and wash away all the troubles of the week, closing the tap when you noticed his car arriving at the garage.

"Mon amour", you said as you greeted at the top of the stairs, "Hello, mon ange", he greeted back, "I was looking for you downstairs and I couldn't find you, so I thought you were asleep", he said before he kissed your lips. "I have a nice and cosy evening planned for us, to unwind and relax, just ourselves", you explained, leading him to the bathroom where you discarded eachother's clothes.

The bath had been filled with tender and loving touches, whispers of sweet nothings in all different languages but felt the same way nonetheless, followed by a warm meal while watching a movie in bed, "thank you, for all of this and for all that you do for me and for us", he said, noticing you were about to brush him off, "no, you're not going to do that, because I mean it. Not all people would go to the trouble of doing all of this, of supporting me when I need, of being there when I'm scared or nervous, and you're there. Every single time, you're the one there holding my hand through it", he said sincerely, "and I can only thank you for it and make it my mission to show you how much I love and appreciate you every single day".

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MISSBERRYCAKE! They have six fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and five of them posted to the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by Missberrycake:

When the Sun is High (I'll Meet You in the Woods)

An Act of Grace

If I Loved You Less.

Blackbird

The Wonder

"I'm nominating missberrycake for a spotlight because I've loved a number of her works that I think have been underappreciated. Her pieces can be quite melancholy, but I think are really lovely and always leave me feeling content. She writes dialogue and characters in a very believable and layered way. I first came across her after her most popular fic, though I think she's done some fabulous ones since!" -- anonymous

Below the cut, Missberrycake answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Ooh, I have a long and storied past with shipping and, while I've been a Stranger Things fan since the start, I hadn't really picked up any shipping threads until S4. I think Steve and Eddie have a great mix of that jock and loser dynamic and enemies to lovers vibe that works really well - but also the ending to S4 was really ripe for some good angst storytelling. A little reminiscent of Stucky or Reddie.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hm. I'm not sure. I am a sucker for time travel, but I don't think I've red too much of that. Probably slow-burn - I just love being frustrated!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Well … according to my most used tags on Ao3, it's AUs and Time Travel, and Friends to Lovers shows up there as well, which all sound right. I know that I'm enjoying a book or show or whatever when I think, I need to write and AU of this!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Ahh! That's too hard - I have a lot of bookmarks for fics I love! It’ probably a battle between Lovesick in Loch Nora by red0aktree and standing up the dead by heartofwinterfell. The first is so gah, you know? So romcon. The latter, I love the concept. Even though it's Max-led, Eddie is fabulously done in that fic, for sure.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Not really - ideas tend to swoop in when I'm not actively thinking about it. I have had a niggling little thought about a folklore esque cryptic came back wrong story, something creepy, you know. But we'll see!

What is your writing process like?

Overly organised! I'm a planner, so I need to know what the ending is before I start - I will generally map out acts and scenes and character arcs before I write the first sentence, which I think helps me immensely so that I don't have to do so many edits later.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure I must do, but I don't know about them. I guess - I'll tend to write all my dialogue in a scene first as a but of a template and then fill in the gaps.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, when I've finished for sure. The only time I've ever abandoned a fix was when I posted as I was going on a schedule and it really killed the enjoyment of it for me - too much pressure on timing and the lack if ability to go back and fiddle with things.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I'll stick to my Steddie fics, so it would have to be An Act of Grace, for the Bigbang. I adore that fic, honestly, and worked really hard on it. I think it came out almost exactly how I wanted it and I was so excited when posting finally arrived!

How did you get the idea for An Act of Grace?

It was two things, really - firstly I had watched ‘Howards End’ with Joseph Quinn in and fully needed to see Eddie in the similar time period, I could not get it out of my head - the idea of a servant Eddie and aristocratic Steve came to me pretty quickly after that and was too perfect. Also, though, I wanted to do something with a distinctly English vibe to it (I am English!) - I sometimes feel a bit at sea writing USAmerican characters and settings, so something more familiar I though might work better for me.

When writing When the Sun is High (I’ll Meet You In the Woods), what was something you didn’t expect?

For it to be so popular, actually! Particularly as it was being posted. It's my most popular Steddie fic by a country mile and I'm really fond of it - trying to get a version of Steve and Eddie who had a history to work with canon was a fun challenge.

What inspired If I Loved You Less?

Well, its an Emma AU, so Emma! I was watching the most recent film adaption and NEEDED to write it, but I also loved Clueless growing up, so putting a modern twist on it made the most sense to me. The placement of characters in that story was very fun!

What was your favorite part to write from Blackbird?

The tree decorating scene, for sure. I love that part of Christmas myself, so I had a great time adding in little bits and pieces from people I know and traditions they have.

How do/did you feel writing When the Sun is High (I’ll Meet You In the Woods)?

Gosh, it feels like it was so long ago! I was just excited to get something out into fandom, I think, and to become part of the community.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Wonder?

Ooh, probably knowing that it wasn't going to do very well? 😄 I completely love that little fic, so to kind of keep it contained to just Eddie and Wayne - even mostly Wayne - was tricky. Sometimes less is more!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Hm. In the epilogue of An Act of Grace, Claudia gives a little speech about Steddie. I think I like that a lot for the way it kind of sums everything up so nicely. A bit of a snapshot of them as characters.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Nope! I've taken a bit of a break from writing at the moment, buy I've been at it for 13 years, so I'm sure I'll be back at it in the future.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just to say thank you to whoever submitted my name! It's made my month, probably!

Thank you to our author, Missberrycake, and our anonymous nominator! See more of Missberrycake's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[cookinguptales]

So... Dante's Inferno. I promised my second post would be a deep dive into the parallels and allusions being made to Dante in s2 of Malevolent. In other words, I'm going to finally make my case for you.

I think it's a pretty good one! But I guess whether you agree with me is up to you.

I'll preface this by saying that the last time I read the Inferno cover-to-cover was about fifteen years ago. I did some skimming to reacquaint myself while relistening to this season, but I didn't do a deep dive. So let's just call this an inexhaustive list, okay? I'm sure there are more examples than I'm going to throw out in this post, but I figured that I'm writing a tumblr meta not a dissertation, so it would be okay if I didn't have every single potential allusion.

I'll also say that any quotes I make are from the Mandelbaum translation just because it's by far the easiest to understand. I'm not going to be doing citations or anything (again, not a dissertation) but if you want to know any of my sources, just drop me a line and I'll be happy to drop the canto.

(cw: discussions of suicide, violence, and general Christianity)

As I said before, I believe that the Dreamlands, as Arthur Lester experienced them, were a manifestation of Dante's Dis that The King in Yellow used specifically to give Arthur a path towards penitence and salvation, hoping that he would eventually allow himself some sort of "divine forgiveness."

In other words, the KIY forced Arthur to face the punishments of the last four circles of Dante's Inferno in the hopes that it would cause Arthur to let go of his guilt, and therefore his attachment, to Faroe. And then, of course, he could make his move.

(In plainer English, sometimes a person who is dreaming wishes that they were dreaming, not knowing that they already are. Like that, Dante wanted to be forgiven for his actions not realizing that he already was. Dreamlands, penitence, guilt, etc. It's a whole thing.)

I'm going to try to stay on track in this post because there's a lot to cover. I'm going to talk about some of these concepts and themes a lot more in-depth later, but for now I just wanna lay out some very surface-level observations.

Dis is a gated section of Dante's Hell that includes circles 6-9 -- in other words, the circles dedicated to punishing the heretics, the violent, the fraudulent, and the traitors.

We should probably technically start with 6 and make our way down, but the ordering gets a little fuzzy as we go, so I'm going to structure this a little differently.

This is my meta so frankly I'm going to do what I like here. I'm just going to talk about these in the order I find them most compelling.

The first part of s2 that really made me sit up and take notice was the living forest that Arthur and John pass through near the beginning of the Dreamlands. Dante's forest of souls in the seventh circle is one of the most famous and lingering images of the entire poem, so it immediately caught my attention.

I'm going to be dedicating an entire post just to this forest, so I won't go into too much detail here, but there is a forest in the seventh circle where the trees are black and gnarled, like the ones in the Dreamlands, and like the ones in the Dreamlands, they were watered with blood.

These are the bodies of souls who committed suicide, and Dante is told that when the end times come and Hell is emptied out, when all of the other souls are reunited with their bodies, these souls, in punishment for taking their physical bodies for granted, will be forced to carry their own corpses hanging from their branches.

These trees can speak and bleed, and -- I mean, there's a lot to say about themes of suicide and self-sacrifice in s2. There's even more to say about this concept of protecting your physical body, not giving it up, and not allowing yourself to be separated from it. And then what does it mean when John and Arthur sacrifice a piece of themselves to this living wood in the end...?

Those are questions for a later post. But the parallels between the Dreamlands forest and that in the Inferno seem clear -- and that's before the winged monsters come. Yes, that happens in the Inferno, too, and they're Harpies.

(*looks into the camera like Kermit the Frog*)

There is also depiction of dismemberment in this section of Inferno, which is another pretty crucial similarity to Malevolent.

Ugh, I did get bogged down in some details. Let's be brief with the rest of 7.

Other key punishments found in the seventh circle of Hell and also the Dreamlands: a sea of red sand in a desert that is so hot that it constantly burns you, a vast ravine, an incredibly painful storm, and various red bodies of water surrounded by black rocks. Different water does different things, but none of it's really good. It's probably good that John and Arthur didn't go in the red or purple lakes.

(Perhaps more of a stretch, when Dante and Virgil are taken to the next circle of Hell, it's via a huge serpentine creature that can sting people. It's not exactly the same as the snake in the boat... but well. It is a serpent and a boat is a method of conveyance.)

Circle 8 -- fraud. Circle 8 is comprised of these things called "malebolge", and I've seen a lot of different translations of that word. The male- part is easy -- it's the same one that we see in "malevolent". Evil. The -bolge part I've seen translated as pouches, ditches, trenches, and... well, pits.

There is this really, really, really long part of the poem where they go around to all the pits to see all the different kinds of punishment for fraud. I'm not going to be exhaustive here, nor do I think that all of it lines up quite as 1:1 as it did in circle 7. Some of these things I'm about to point out I think are stretches but others I think are pretty clear.

The two main parallels to circle 8 that I see in Malevolent are the giant pit that they fall into (where they encounter the creature that's being fed) and the smaller prison pits that they're later trapped in by the KIY.

Let's talk about the cave system first. When Dante and Virgil first enter Dis (and in other parts going forward) they struggle with a lot of uneven, gravelly terrain that Dante occasionally falls on. (Created by earthquakes that happened because of Jesus, but that's not important.) That does seem to correspond to the gravelly ground that gave way beneath Arthur and John to send them into the vast blackness that has quite a bit in common with a few of the malebolge. One malebolge is an endless black void that Dante eventually realizes is filled with black pitch. (See: the endless darkness of the pit.) Another is filled with stench and refuse, like the rotting remnants of the creature's dinners. Another involves heads being wrenched from their place and turned around in their sockets, reminiscent of Arthur's dislocated arm.

Other malebolge seem to align with later experiences, like when they are in the ritual halls and in the prison pits themselves. There are two malebolge that seem to speak to Arthur's concern that John will either be separated from him or take over his body: one pit contains dragon-like snakes that bite the punished sinners, then slowly transform into the sinner as the sinner becomes the snake; the other pit involves people being quite literally cleaved in two.

(From the part where the dragons become one with the sinners, then take their bodies. Sounds familiar!)

A third malebolge contains sinners who are being tortured with incessant thirst, like Lorick the cana.

So I do think that the actual contents of these evil pits come up fairly often throughout Arthur's travails, but I think the much bigger issue, and the one that maps more clearly onto Arthur's time in the Dreamlands, is the concept of pits designed to punish prisoners in the first place. The description of the malebolge (circular pits surrounded by a huge wall that encircles all of them) is similar to that of the prison pits (many circular pits that are encircled by a huge wall) and, like the sinners bound to their malebolge, John and Arthur are being tortured in their prison pit as well.

Even more interesting, I think, is a particular sinner that can be found later in the 9th circle. (Forgive me for jumping ahead a bit, but you'll see in a moment why I'm doing it.) There's a man named Ugolino that Dante encounters in the lake of ice who is frozen to another man -- and Ugolino is eating that man's head. Why? Because in life, that man held Ugolino and his children prisoner and purposefully starved them.

Now -- this next part is argued over by both translators and scholars (one of the translators I consulted for this had a whole diatribe about this in the middle of his translation, lmao) but what I'm about to say does seem to be an accepted interpretation of the text. I even checked Sparknotes and it's the only interpretation they give, so I assume that regardless of what Dante intended, this is a common modern understanding of the scene.

Ugolino, after his children had died (arguably due to his own actions), was forced to consume their flesh.

(Some scholars say he just starved to death, but again, even Sparknotes is a big proponent of the cannibalism theory. lmao)

So... we have a story about a prisoner being denied food specifically to demoralize him and force him to feed on the flesh of his fellow prisoners. That sounds familiar. :')

(And "Faust", of course, is an allusion to another literary figure who dealt with the devil...)

I think that regardless of how well the specific punishments of the pits fit Arthur's journey (I'd say... so-so, depending on the punishment), the concept of punishment pits in general is strongly associated with the Dreamlands, and what happened to Arthur in those pits is uh. Let's just say that Dante did it first.

Now... before I go onto the ninth circle, one of the clearest, most obvious, and in some ways most fascinating allusions to Dante, I'll quickly backtrack to the sixth circle of Hell, heresy.

Heresy is a complicated thing in a universe that contains both Christianity and a lot of other gods, and I think it's certainly dealt with in s2, but maybe in not quite the same ways...

The description of the sixth circle of Hell is pretty quick and pretty sparse. Essentially, it's a vast plain of open tombs that are surrounded by fire. They're made of stone and the people inside them are supposed to be dead, but they are unable to rest, instead being roasted alive inside of their tombs.

I puzzled over this one for a while, and I think it's still entirely possible that it was meant to be skipped altogether in Malevolent. But. There is a part at the very beginning of s2 that never quite seemed to tie into the rest of the narrative, and I wonder if, in a way, it was meant to be one of these stone tombs.

A stone building, like the stone tombs indicated by Dante. Roofs of red iron, like the stone heated to "glowing heat" that Dante likened to hot iron...

A large hole in the ground. Perhaps a stack of firewood...

Inhabitants thought to be "departed" but clearly still very much still here...

I don't know. Could be an allusion to the fiery tombs of the living dead. Hard to say.

It's hard to know where he was going with this portion, honestly. I get the impression that something might have been headed off by an audience decision here, so idk where it would have gone if it had found its logical conclusion. The souls in the sixth circle can see the future (but not the present), so it could have been something pretty cool.

Ah, well. Hard to know.

I'll get back to more solid ground. The ninth circle.

The ninth circle of Hell, home of traitors (including Satan himself), is one of the most well-known parts of the poem. At the bottom of Hell is, quite infamously, a frozen lake of ice.

I mentioned poor Ugolino before, but there are other prisoners of the ice who are also very interesting.

One in particular, Branca d’Oria, seems thematically important. This was kind of a weird addition to Dante's Hell. See, Branca d’Oria was a real-live person who was still alive when this was written. How is a living person in Hell? Well, Dante asked him that in the poem, too.

According to The Inferno, Branca d’Oria's crime (the murder of his father-in-law) was so terrible that his soul was taken down to Hell while he was still alive, and his soul was replaced with a devil who took control of his body.

(If you think that a simple murder doesn't seem worse than all the other stuff in Hell, I guess... this is kind of Dante being a true crime girlie...?)

Regardless of Dante's writing choices, I think you can see why this one caught my eye. Once Arthur and John get to the lake of ice, their imminent confrontation with the KIY has them both wondering if just that will happen to Arthur. Will a devil (John) take control of his body and cast his soul out?

There are a lot of passages of Dante that are concerned with the attachment of the soul to the body, so I'll probably do an entire post on that. Lot of stuff about whether souls can be severed from their mortal form, whether they can be replaced by other spirits, etc.

Kayne specifically brings up this question (as does the KIY) in the lake of ice, which brings me to the other really fascinating part of the ninth circle.

Caina.

(Yes, named for that Cain.)

Caina is the portion of the lake of ice that is reserved specifically for people who have killed family members. It's part of the realm of traitors, not murderers, and is considered particularly heinous. Dante finds two brothers who are being punished by being quite literally frozen together.

(Again, two souls, one body, one whole, there's a vibe here.)

I talked a little bit about Kayne before... I don't think he's bound to this part of the Inferno, or even an organic part of it, but I do think that he's consciously playing along with it. After all, he chose to meet Arthur and John in the frozen lake. He chose to call himself Kayne. It's not his real name. That seems pretty clear. But it's what he chose to call himself.

He lured Arthur in with the music box symbolizing his dead daughter. He dirtied it with blood. He purposefully leaned into Arthur's guilt about "murdering" his daughter. And he called himself Kayne.

Feels pointed to me.

And I do think Kayne very certainly belongs in the ring reserved for traitors. lmao. I cannot imagine that he's not fucking the two of them over somehow.

Side note, I'd also say that the description of amphitheater-like rooms feels like an allusion to the Inferno right there. Its circles are shaped like an amphitheater with the lake of ice right in the center!

And just to be clear, it points both up and down. When they get to Satan and fly past him, the same shape is going out the other way. (Through the earth's core.)

The final really big allusion to Dante is not an allusion to the Inferno at all, but to Purgatorio/Paradiso. I am speaking, of course, of the garden.

A garden that his followers can't enter... A garden where things are presumably safe... A garden where Arthur finally comes to true understanding...

I mean. It's Eden, right? Of course it's Eden.

And Arthur, in his own way, is partaking of the fruit.

Eden is actually where Purgatorio ends and Paradiso begins, in Dante's travels. There's... a lot to be said here, about "Earthly Paradise", as it's called in Dante, and how it's a symbol of regaining innocence, its connections with Beatrice, etc. But I'll leave that for another post.

The reason why it's important here, though, is that it symbolizes an escape from Hell. It's what Dante found after going through all the punishments of Hell, after meeting Satan, after regaining his metaphorical innocence. It's what the KIY was dangling in front of Arthur as escape, both from the Dreamlands and his own guilt.

The fact that it was used to manipulate, to hurt, to fake Arthur out, is actually such an interesting twist on the source material. I kind of love it.

(I'll also just say real quick that I believe that the selenine (while existing as a cure-all in other Lovecraft literature) is actually a parallel to the waters of Lethe, which can also be found in Dante's Earthly Paradise. This is water that makes you forget your past and all past sins so you can become purified and continue on to heaven! Or get your ass snatched by the King in Yellow! I'll talk about this more later!)

And then... y'know, there's Daniel.

I have a lot to say about Daniel in the future, but for now... I think this is what it all kind of boils down to.

Like yes... on a surface level, there are a lot of Dantean punishments in this book. Yes, Arthur starts rambling about the Minotaur, who guards the seventh circle of Hell. Yes, there are tons of little asides and allusions to the cosmology of this universe.

But I think this here is the key. This whole dream is about judgment from a god that Arthur no longer believes in and absolution that will never come.

Arthur is, quite frankly, out of options. He's been clinging to this guilt and shame for a very long time now, and he sees no real possibility for forgiveness from God or anyone. Only punishment.

So... the KIY gives him God's punishment. But do the tortures of the Inferno really make Arthur come to terms with his own guilt? Not in the way the KIY wants, obviously, but... I mean, I do think there is some growth there. I just don't think it came from the torture.

Arthur wanted to be tortured. He thinks he deserves to be tortured. To be punished. That comes up... many times throughout the podcast. But it isn't punishment that helps him come to terms with his own actions, that help him come to live quietly with his guilt.

It's love.

And Dante's Inferno, at its heart, is about love. According to Dante, the deepest depths of Hell are frozen because ice is the lack of warmth, and a lack of warmth is the lack of love.

Because here's what Dante's Commedia is about, from beginning to end. Dante is having a crisis of faith and his lost love, his dear deceased Beatrice, orchestrates this journey (and eventually becomes his guide) from her place in heaven and saves his soul on earth -- through her love.

I'll talk about this more later, I swear I will, but for now... The KIY gave Arthur the Hell he thought he deserved because he wanted Arthur to find grace through penitence. The King wanted Arthur to give up his past so he could steal his future.

But what Arthur actually gleaned from this awful experience is perhaps closer to what Dante actually intended his message to be. That closing yourself off from others, that hurting others, that betraying others, these are all the worst sins. In the end, it's a violation of human connection that will damn you.

And the only real way to salvation is through love.

I feel like in some ways this is the largest allusion of all, opaque as it is. This is what the entire poem is about. Not just gawking at punishments but finding growth through love.

It's about learning that shame can't fix you, y'know? Love and support are an awful lot more effective if you truly wish to change.

And that, my friends, is Dante's Divine Comedy. :')

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Archibald's reference/concept art! Also included is the drawing of Kamsell referenced in Ikushima's note. Translation notes under the cut.

The note that says, "Sad✅" is one I feel really unsure about, in part because the handwriting and angling makes the middle character a little hard to make identify, and in part because there's just not really a lot of context to go off of. I ended up saying that it was a phonetic spelling in Japanese for the Chinese synonym of 鬱 (you can see this particular spelling listed as the "On" pronunciation), because all the other more obvious options (mainly the word "cow" or a word that meant something like, "ulp! [nervous exclamation]," didn't really make sense. That said, I don't think that sort of spelling is used very often (or even possibly at all), so there's a pretty decent chance I just misunderstood that one.

Related to that, I'm kind of going with the theory that since "Sad✅" definitely reads like a joke in English, that might have also been the intention in Japanese. That could explain the unusual spelling, the same way we might write something like, "I guess you could say it has a certain jen ay say kwah" and phonetically spell/misspell "je ne sais quoi" for comedic effect.

And as far as the checkmark goes, that came from the circle symbol at the end of the original Japanese caption. From what I can tell, circles can represent a few different things in Japanese: they can reference the actual word "circle"; they can mean something like a blank (e.g., it happened in the year 20XX, but where English puts Xs, Japanese puts Os); or they can mean "correct" in the same way a checkmark does in English. Circles are also sometimes shorthand for ロ, so it might have meant something related to that as well. I ended up going with the idea that it was a checkmark.

The "God of War" note was a little hard to make out for some reason, and I feel a little unsure of the exact meaning--mostly, I'm not sure whether they were saying that the God of War was Archibald/Kamsell, or whether it's more the person/bear that they're sitting on top of. I ended up just leaving it kind of vague, but there's probably some nuance I missed there. If I learn more when I translate the Kamsell page, I'll make an edit here.

"Strong brow and eyes" might also be translated as "prominent and intense brow and eyes." I used "strong" because it felt like a more natural way to express that concept in English, but I feel like it loses a little nuance in the process.

As an interesting note, "Archibald" in Japanese is something more like "Arch bolt," so there's a little bit of wordplay going on with it.

[pompadourpink]

salut maman!! how long does it take to learn french? i guess it depends but wanted to ask

Hello child,

As I'm sure you can imagine, there is no unique answer to this. Not only because how quickly you'll become fluent will depend on your personality, learning style, tolerance to frustration, and the amount of free time you have and are willing to spend working on it, but also because fluency is a blurry concept, especially for romance languages since they're so dynamic and different from what you find in textbooks.

Starting from scratch, if you work half an hour a day, use the right tools, know how to alternate between activities, and learn things in the right order, I think you can get to about B1 in a year and B2 in two - which doesn't seem like much of a difference, but it's actually the biggest one when learning a language in my opinion.

What do I mean:

Half an hour a day: you need things to stick, so ten minutes wouldn't cut it, but I doubt more would be, first, realistic, because you'll have other things to worry about, sometimes you'll be sick, busy or on vacation, and second, sustainable: if you turn the experience into a burden, you'll be consistent for a few days, weeks, months, take one day off, and avoid your notes for the next eight months because you've stressed yourself out too much.

Use the right tools: my favourite resources are le Wiktionnaire (etymology is a good friend), Wordreference, Lenouvelobs and Deepl.

Alternate between activities: getting a grammar book and reading one page a day will make you miserable and steal your motivation. On day one, you can learn articles and practice, on day two, read a Petit ours brun book with the help of Deepl, on day three learn how to pronounce numbers on Youtube... One tip: start the day by reviewing what you did the day before.

Learn things in the right order: my method with beginners is typically to focus on reading and overlook writing and pronunciation for a while so that they can get a good understanding of our syntax, memorise prepositions, tell tenses apart, etc. If on day one, you decide to watch a dubbed version of Friends or Harry Potter, it will be the equivalent of getting a firearm, shooting yourself in the foot and wondering why it's not helping you run a marathon.

I've been tutoring for almost three years so I'll add this: your worst enemy will be your ego. I've heard many times people six months into their journey complain that they speak like a six-year-old without realising that it took the six-year-old six years.

It will be difficult, particularly if your first language is not romance: sometimes you'll have strokes (I have nearly fluent students who sometimes forget that adjectives can need to be pluralized or casually write il mangé convinced it's imperfect), sometimes you'll try to translate English even though it's generally not an available option, sometimes you'll blank over a basic word and rage.

It's fine. It's all fine. Trust the process.

Hope this helps! x

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello!!! Your writing is so beautiful and moving!! As an author, do you ever feel like the stuff you write is not good enough? Or your ideas have already been done 1,000 times? I can’t imagine you do, because your stories are pure gold. But if so, how do you move past it and keep writing?? Do you have trouble coming up with original content? I find when I’m writing fics that I sort of stop myself mid story with doubt. Hopefully I worded that correctly. I just admire your fics so much! Thank you!!!

Hey there 🩷✨️😘 And thank you so much for your kind words, I was honestly so, so moved by your message! I'll try my best to offer some advice and thoughts on this, hopefully some of it is helpful 💕

First of all, I sure struggle with this! I have days when I feel like deleting everything I've ever written because I think it's garbage. Those thoughts usually occur when I'm comparing myself to other writers and their work (which generally differs a lot in style, tone and voice, so it's kind of redundant to compare in the first place). Also, I'm not a native English speaker, so there will always be a gap I can't cross. I will always be one, two, three steps behind in expressing myself. Still, I haven't allowed it to stop me from writing and sharing my work. (Well I have, up until this year... But better late than never, right?)

That being said, we need each other for joy and inspiration, which also means that nothing we create is 100% original in the end… and at the same time, everything is original! You write in your own voice, and only you can have a new perspective or offer a unique take on an existing idea. But tropes are tropes for a reason; they're popular for a reason, so I wouldn't shy away from using cliche pairings or recurring tropes as key concepts. Besides, they're so much fun to write!

It's only natural to compare yourself and your fics to other writers and their work, but there's a thin line between getting inspired and feeling like you're not good enough as a writer. It's so easy to feel unworthy when you see loads of new, amazing content (= other people's souls and lifeblood, condensed into a brief flicker on top of our dashboards) every day. But when you start to think about it, there's actually no point in comparing yourself and your creative input to the stream of literally thousands of works.

Even if the idea is not the most original, I keep writing until something "original" pushes through. Sometimes it's a piece of dialogue, and that's when I get interested as an author. Why did the character say that? What do they mean? Why did I write this? What's lying underneath?

I don't know if you catch my drift here or if this sounds like nonsense, but when you get curious about your writing, it starts to gain new levels, you gain new ideas, and even the most "unoriginal" idea may get a fresh new twist. And if it doesn't… who cares 💃 If you write with passion, it shows, and I think that's what matters in the end! Plot holes, or lack of plot altogether, don't matter if you and your readers can indulge in your writing.

If and when I hit a wall, I have to check who I'm writing for. I may have a hidden feeling that I'm not good enough as a creator, or that readers expect this or that and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of a desert when it comes to creativity. Writing to self-indulge (in the most filthiest way if you have to) will almost always fix this issue. It's a simple gospel truth that writing what you'd like to read, works.

I'm repeating myself here, but writing should be fun; the minute it's not, I usually stop and take a break. Professional writers probably say it can't always be fun, and they may have methods to work past that slump, but because this is fanfiction and we are doing this as a pastime hobby, I'd say better keep a light approach to it and cut yourself some slack. There's no need to push it or force it.

'Good enough' is an admirable (and understandable!) aspiration when you wish to be the best version of yourself and offer your readers something fresh and unique. I say the following with all the love: good enough is also the main idea behind a violent worldview where nothing is ever enough. It's the origin of self-doubt and the feeling that we're somehow always unworthy.

To a system that always wants more, and wants it better and faster, we as imperfect creatures and emotional human beings can never be enough. Didn't mean to get deep into environmental philosophy in a tumblr ask, but this worldview is currently destroying people's sanity (not to talk of destroying the planet and its myriad inhabitants). It's not easy, but I encourage everyone to rebel against 'good enough' as much as possible! ❤️‍🔥

So you don't have to strive for good enough, you only need to strive for what moves you, what makes you laugh or cry or simply makes you feel something. That way you'll know it will move others too 💋💞💃

[detective-dipstick]

Murder on the Orient Express (1974) vs. Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Never read the book so I'm considering plot-related things that probably happened in the book as the creations of the movies and it will count towards their rewards and penalties.

Things I liked from both:

-the handkerchief! big fan. the mystery of the handkerchief was better than the mystery of who murdered that guy.

-I like the locations in both. I like the scenery. I think they played with the being stuck on a train thing in their own ways and it worked out.

-There was a third thing I can't remember.

Things I despised from both:

-the ending. the dumbest ending in mystery history. mstry hstry. miss tree his tree.

-sorry i got distracted. literally it was so anticlimactic and SOOOO dumb. I had a friend who really liked the ending but he had horrible opinions about everything so fork spotted in the kitchen i guess. anyway drives me insane to this day.

Things I liked better in 74:

-The train. Looks like a real train. We get to look at it for a long time. A movie made for train-lovers, which is the main draw of Orient Express as a concept anyway.

-Generally better looking cinematography. I like.

-Hector. Freaking. McQueen.

-First of all, Anthony Perkins? Damn. Second, Anthony Perkins as McQueen? GAYYYYY (flirtatious). Noticed him the moment he appeared on screen. Totally in love with everything he did. No notes except a tiny one with my number on it. Anyway

-Ms. Hubbard. Genuinely annoying af as God intended. and she didn't have a random wig reveal (although that was funnnny. again that Branagh melodrama that's so ridiculous sometimes but admirably bold every time). anyway idk i like her. I don't like her but I do. the girlboss effect in action.

-The Armstrong case summarized in the BEGINNING thank you for making sense. Was so jarring in the 2017 version that they just randomly mention it later in the movie. No prior allusion to it or anything. Those first few scenes in the 74 version were unsettling to me in a good way.

-They look so relieved and happy when Poirot and Bianchi vote to pin the murder on the imaginary guy. It's just a cute little moment idk. Some of them hug each other. McQueen smiles and stands up and sits down for some reason.

Things I liked better in Branagh's:

-Branagh as Poirot. I feel like I'll be unjustifiably assassinated for this but I like him a lot. In this movie specifically, he's great. I dislike Orient Express compared to his three Poirot movies in almost every other respect but he was very refreshing here.

-From what I've seen of Branagh as a director, he excels at melodrama, and it shows here.

-Loveee how during the breakdown Poirot had no fucking idea who did it. When he said "it is time to solve this case" he meant it so literally. He meant "well we're on a deadline so I'm just gonna start talking and hope it all works out." Relatable af that's me writing my essays and shit. Also very funny.

-So there’s a scene, right? There’s a scene with Hildegarde (great name btw) and Poirot where he questions her in German so the princess can’t understand it and then she mentions seeing “the other conductor” in the sleeping car and he’s so shocked he switches to English and he’s like “WHAT other conductor???” and that was so cool you had to be there it was cool. Too bad it didn’t mean anything but it was sick.

-I like Bouc slightly better than Bianchi. Now, Bianchi has the better name. Fun to say. He was very silly and cool. But I can’t pretend I don’t love Bouc. C’mon.

-The count and countess. WOW. They were charming in 74 but in this one they are HOT. Holy shit. Even better somehow that we don’t meet them right away. They’re talked about in the beginning but we only see them when Poirot goes to their cabin to question them for reasons I can’t remember (I recall he originally wasn’t going to. They were in a different car or diplomatic immunity or something idk I was born yesterday). Anyway him just showing up at the elusive count and countess’s later in the movie and turns out the whole time they were just in there doing hot people shit. They were in two scenes but really carried the film with their sexual energy. 

General thoughts:

For the record, I wouldn’t recommend either of these movies. If this post inspired u to watch them for some reason, don’t you dare think of me. Goodnight.

[soysaurus]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

i'm quite annoyed. the first time i tried to do this, my laptop decided to update randomly in the middle and i lost everything. i was just about to post, and i was talking quite a bit, i'm not gonna lie. anyway, here we go, take two: electric boogaloo.

stop signs before impact — dabihawks, psycho-pass au

my friend, valya, and i wrote this together. i love this fic, i won't lie. i think the concept is amazing, and i love how i explore touya's declining mental state with every chapter. i love his family and everything he can't quite say. i love his delusions and paranoia, and i love the gruesome detail i get to go into with each crime scene. this is so self-indulgent, and i'm thriving. thanks @valya-azucena for inviting me to collaborate with you.

amongst the stars, we fall — sskk, college au

i was cleaning my bookshelf (read: finally moving all my overflow books from the floor to um. my radiator cover?? bc its been weeks and they've just been...on the floor), and i saw my printed version of this! i miss it a lot. it was one of my first bsd fics, and i loved it. i wrote it in like 2 days at the end of a gift exchange bc i hated what i had thus far, so just restarted. and this was born. i was so stressed LOL love songs — tachigin, music artist au

this isn't published yet, hence no link. but it's been living rent-free in my brain for over a year now, and i'm obsessed. i feel so much with this fic. if i think too hard about the charas, i genuinely start crying. damn, maybe the counsellor was right. i do need therapy... back when we were younger — dabihawks, monster au

also unpublished, also something that i hold very dearly. someone in ctabb was looking for monster au fic recs, but like monster movie-esque. they're the reason i watched cloverfield and it's now one of my favourite films of all time. they're the reason this fic even exists, and one day i will finish it. i'll post this random 50k one shot like i sometimes do, and then i'll read it when i want to cry.

do you want to bleed across the cosmos? — dabihawks, cosmic horror

i love gore and horror, can you tell? this fic marries that and my space hyperfixation. it's creepy, confusing, and dark. honestly, it's exactly what you expect an english and film student to write. and that is five of my favourite fics, not in any particular order but here nonetheless. i've been tired lately, and life has kind of sucked but also it's kinda better. it's weird, lol.

[intheorangebedroom]

So I want to ask you:

- how do you decide what goes into the story and what won't make it into the final draft?

- do you have other stories in you for these two, like Roadtrippin'?

- you wrote a pretty detailed backstory for Frankie but you keep her past more private. Is that intentional? She is a more closed person so we only get glimpses of her. Will you write an extended history about her?

Thank you for the new chapter, I think I'll read it six more times this weekend!

Hey there bestie. Thank you so much for this ask 🥰 I'm afraid I'm going to rumble. Grab a drink 😬

How do I decide what goes in and what doesn't make it. Like so:

Seriously, I think it's down to my lack of self-confidence... I've had the story outlined since I started, with some major ideas/concepts and events I want to develop and insist on. Some elements are secondary, like the Millers' backstory for instance (I have it down to their parents' jobs and how they met...) so I just pepper some clues along the way (the picture of the little girl in Will's office seems innocuous enough, but that little girl is the very reason why he's so keen on Reader). I would love to develop all of it, but I'm not confident enough with my English, my story telling abilities, the chapters would reach 10k words and I'm afraid it would just bore the hell out of everybody. But I loved writing that random HC so much...

Sometimes, it's also quite simply because it imbalances the whole chapter. I had three extra paragraphs of pure Tom hatred for Shuffle Your Feet and I had to reason myself. "Ok, you hate the guy, I think every one gets it" 😂

Do I have other stories in me for these two

Well... This depends on how the story ends, right? If they get a happy ending or not.... I have approx a million and some of them are already written

The real question is, do I have anything else??? 😂 Sometimes I think I just had this one, and after that, I'll stop writing (it scares me and makes me sad, I'd very much like to keep going).

Will I write an extended story for our Reader

ARGH I'm dying to!!!!! I've got nothing against the reader insert/blank slate format, to each his own, but it's not for me, I'd rather read a story with a defined Reader and I can't, for the life of me, write something with a character I don't know. I'm not that good.

But I'm so new at writing fanfic, and not confident enough to go "Here, she's an OFC." I'm afraid it would turn people off (and well, I'll admit I like it when people read the words I sweat over for weeks...). But the more I progress, the more I feel like I'm betraying her by denying her this OFC status (I'm nuts).

I've got a thorough backstory for her. Soooooo thorough... She even has a name. (Writing that fight without having Rosie say her name was so difficult, don't you use the other person's name when you argue with them??? And oh! How I am DYING to have Frankie say it... you've no idea.)

When I think of her, I imagine her at 15-year-old, with her carpenter jeans, her black Doc Marten's, and her beat up backpack, stepping into the teachers' room after lunch to pick an American pen pal. This was extracurricular, she didn't really have too, she was a good student and didn't need the extra points... But this day, sitting alone in her high school cafeteria, she thought "ok, fuck loneliness, I'm gonna prove myself I can make a friend."

So she gathered her strength and when her teacher handed her the tray of Bristol cards with the students' information, she picked one randomly. A young, stunningly beautiful, dizzyingly confident brunette in a stapled little square photo smiled at her as she read "Rosie Muñoz, 15 ans, New York City, Etats-Unis" and she felt an instant pull toward this bright sun. She thought there was no way in hell such a cool looking girl would write her back, let alone like her, yet she still chanced it.

But Rosie did write back. And she dragged her out of her loneliness. Showed her that her love could, in fact, be reciprocated.

And then, Rosie took her to that party, where she would meet Frankie. Who would alter the course of her life, and set her inner world ablaze.

Just because of a lonely meal, and a small, rectangular Bristol card.

Thank you so, so much for this ask, I'm sorry that I am incapable of brevity. I hope that at least, I answered all your questions 🧡

[berryunho]

HI BESTIE it's san anon and IT'S BEEN A WHILE

i hope you're still enjoying your time in sk hehehe i see your posts sometimes and am like *nods* having a good time, nice

it's been a busy couple of weeks sjdghsfj HONESTLY i don't think that ppt will ever like. get there. IM SORRY DSJHGFJ i loved the idea of it but i don't think i can find the time to make you the amazing ppt you deserve SIGH i do however have reasons written down for why you SHOULDN'T k word san so bet you'll be hearing from me shortly

ANYWAY that was all i just wanted to pop by and ask how you're doing <3 i hope life is going well for you !!!!!!! love u mwah

(also this is me trying to fix my english bc you > u istg i've evolved)

WAUT SAN ANON AGAIN I JUST SAW THAT ASK ABT NOT TRUSTING SAN'S MANIPULATIVE ASS i love him i'm so sorry it's so bad but i LOVE cult freak san the same way i love hongjoongism (yes i'll keep using this name) and hongjoong's wicked little brain i love it all idk i'm just. waiting for the day you don't k word san off but instead turn him into this crazy wicked insane evil cult freak instead of the cute cult freak we've seen up until now KJHDSGFKJHSD kq please give us a dark concept. i need an actual culteez concept. don't just break that wall murder it san anon again because what the FUCK i missed so many san reblogs HELP???? it makes sense now bc apparently i had the for you page open instead of the following page wtf tumblr

HSKDJFASDLFJS HIIIIII

dont worry about being busy and PLSDJFASLKDF THE PPT LOL ITS OKY I DIDNT REALLY EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ONE E VERJKLJASFLKD PSKLJFSKLDF .... i also love cult freak san and evil hongjoong LKSJDFLASKDJF last night i was writing .... a scene that will happen in ... the next few chapters probably and i was (s)creamin-- I MEAN i was having a very good time writing it even though its like the most diabolical angst to ever come from my hands i was giggling biting my lip SO ANYWAYS thats gonna be so fun to release into the world but it has to simmer for a bit still ... not to confirm nor deny any san allegations of course mwuahaha AND ANYWAYS YES I AGREE bring back mvs where kpop boys would kill people ... or like graphic vampire concepts ... PLEASE I NEED IT SO BAD FJASLDJFSJ AND ???? NOT THE FOR YOU PAGE omg i do the same thing though like it switches and i dont realize and im like "where tf is sanchelinz rn" SKJFKALSDFJ

but anyways to answer your question ... im very good still ehehe my classes are all going well i even went up korean levels LAKJDFLASD and changing topics im not really a makeup person but i walked into olive young 2 days ago and blacked out and now i own a bunch of makeup and im trying to learn how to use it and i actually ... feel so cute KASDJLFSADJ like i have some on rn and its all pink and glittery and i did my eyelashes the wonyoung way and I FEEL SO CONFIDENT ACTUALLY its crazy like i think im pretty wo makeup lol and idk i normally feel so goofy when i try to do makeup but im actually proud of what ive been able to learn in ... 3 days lol

AND ??? you probably saw lol BUT I WENT TO IDOL RADIOAFLSJDFK;ASJ that was ... so anxiety inducing LKJKLAJSDFKJS there were SO many people and our foreign asses didnt reserve seats and didnt think to bring. idk. LADDERS BC PEOPLE BRING FUCKING LADDERS (*%)($*@)#()@ and anyways idk WHAT i was doing so wrong just by standing in one spot and not moving but i was being CURRRSSEDDDD out by ktinys like i accidentally looked at one of them for too long apparently and she turned to her friend and was like "this fucking foreigner is staring crazy bitch" I WAS LIKE (*$)(*$_)(#)(@_(#_????@$?$?@?4 and another girl saw me and was like "i fucking hate when foreigners come they never know whats happening" (*409*@)@(-#(0 I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT I WAS LITERALLY LIKE ............................ simply pretended i didnt know what they were saying bc i wouldve started swinging and gotten deported if i engaged like ... HOOOOO DEEP BREATHS IM NOT MAD anyways yunho and hongjoong waved to me and i got so many good pictures and i was just happy to get to see them ehehehe all that matters is that THIS is hongjoong waving at me and my friend

and anyways i stay winning <3 life is amazing im so happy everyday <3 I HOPE YOURE GOOD AS WELL BESTIE !!! PLS LMK HOW YOU ARE AND DW ABOUT BEING BUSY AND HAVE A NICE REST OF YOUR WEEK AND ILY <3333 MWAHHH :]]] <33 <33 <33

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Six

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 15k

Chapter Warnings: believe it or not there's fluff in here. very very cute scenes I have to say. but obviously encompassed by angst. a fluff sandwich with angsty bread if you will. and the butter is nico's continuous pining. luke being the ultimate girls girl, wise beyond his years god bless him, the rest of the boys being soft, Nico's family being endearing, and then here we go!!! mentions of vomiting and food aversion, mentions of pregnancy & early pregnancy symptoms, I want to say there's mentions of drowning I remember thinking of the imagery and I can't remember how detailed I went with it sorry! it isn't actual drowning just like a metaphor of sorts. mentions of the birth control patch if you've ever had it you KNOW that needs a full trigger warning whoever came up with that deserves jail it's hell it's horror!! and mentions of poor parental relationships.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Five)

A/N: potentially fun fact the last scene in this chapter is maybe the second thing I ever wrote for this fic!! like as a concept/idea it was one of the earliest scenes in my head and it's one of my faves!! I've been dying to get to this part to flesh it out and figure out how to build to it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!! writing for families of real people is such an odd concept but I really like the differences in their parents lmao it's fun to write and compare the dynamics obviously it goes without saying I do not know these people lmao

I know the last chapter broke a couple hearts so I'll leave you guys to crack on! as always, never proofread, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and opinions!!! all the love in my heart to anyone who messaged me this last week on anon or not or private or whatever it may be I appreciate you so much yous have been so so kind to me and it means the world 💖

Nico

If anyone were to ever ask Nico what his favourite trait of Poppy’s is, he knows for a fact he would not be able to narrow it down. She’s a culmination of all things good, has been from the day he met her, and even the things he shouldn’t like about her, he loves.

He shouldn’t like that she’s sarcastic, quick-witted - scarily so - and sometimes says things before she has the chance to properly think about them or any problems they may cause her. He remembers his first couple of years in Jersey, when he was one of the more junior players on the team, still considered new to the country and the culture, and a lot of people had underestimated how familiar he was speaking English despite his years playing in Canada and growing up learning multiple languages. They would often default to explaining things like he wouldn’t understand, like common terms or jokes told amongst a group - and he, being too polite to correct them, had always ended up feeling like an idiot for it. 

There had been one instance prepping for a media day, where he had only met Poppy once a week or so before, and she had been prepping him to be on camera, clipping his mic pack and checking the settings. 

One of the other media staff, a guy called Liam who was in his second year where Poppy was in her first and had been the one she had to initially shadow, had cracked some misogynistic joke to her about how she was messing around with controls she didn’t understand just to be able to stand closer to Nico, as if he wasn’t right there or couldn’t hear him - and then when he had seen Nico’s furrowed brow and downturned lips, had assumed he didn’t understand the joke because he hadn’t laughed.

“It’s because she thinks you’re hot!” The guy had obnoxiously enunciated every word, capturing the attention of some of the more senior assistants in the room who had rolled their eyes just as hard as Nico had.

“He’s from Europe, Liam, not Jupiter. You don’t have to speak to him like he’s some alien.” Poppy had shook her head, caring so little about the fact that Liam had seniority over her, fitting the pack into Nico’s back pocket without him even feeling it, “He understands your slimy little jokes, he just doesn’t find you funny. Nobody does.”

Nico shouldn’t have liked her speaking on his behalf as much as he did, coming to his defence with her sharp tongue and cold glare, but no one had ever picked up on how uncomfortable that kind of thing made him before. The stupid jokes and the belittling tone Liam had used toward him. Poppy saw through both.

And all of her good is even better.

Poppy is positive. He has never seen her leave a room without having caused at least one smile or laugh. She’s someone he’s seen most of the guys perk up around, seek her out for help or even mundane conversation just to lighten the load, and he knows he’ll never be able to keep track of all the times he’s gone to her for a pick me up over the years.

She’s generous. Generous with her time when it comes to her friends, always making sure to maintain plans even when she’s at her busiest. When it comes to her work, staying late to help out a colleague or finish a project so it isn’t left to the last minute. With her knowledge and experience, always there for new members of staff or additions to the team to show them all her favourite spots in the area and get them up to speed with their role.

She is patient - waits around for him when he gets stuck doing media, or held behind to see the physio, and she never complains. She’ll never watch an episode of a show they start together without him, despite the fact his schedule doesn’t often allow for him to stay up late catching up, and she doesn’t moan when she gets spoiled if it’s something that comes out weekly and ends up being a hot topic in the office, doesn’t even spoil it for him out of spite. She even pauses the tv as soon as she notices he’s fallen asleep, and she’ll busy herself doing something else until she feels like he’s rested enough to drive home. 

And, above all, she’s forgiving. If someone were to push for an answer, and they were to have done so before this whole mess happened, he probably would have said that was his favourite thing. It’s like her superpower - to be able to understand things from a different perspective without judgement or a major confrontation. It’s like her default process is to give people grace and make things easy, even if they aren’t entirely deserving of that way out.

She had done so with Nico, that night up on the roof. He hadn’t deserved her leniency, not entirely. He had expected he would have to grovel and beg, and he had been more than willing to do so, but she had wanted to avoid further heartache for the both of them, and had decided to move on. 

And sure, she hadn’t technically forgiven him at that point for the way he had treated her, not properly, but she had put him on the path to redemption, and had made it clear what was expected to make it all the way there.

She’d gone easy on him, in spite of how much he had hurt her. She’d been patient with his reasoning, generous with her time, and had done so with an affectionate glint in her eyes that even now makes his heart warm to think about.

It’s the same glint she’d had when she’d come out of that elevator and had seen him by her door. He’d watched her take him in, eyes cast over him in a concerned assessment, and he knew then that no matter what he said, no matter how he explained what had led him to leave her that morning without a word, she would have forgiven him.

She would have found some way to rationalise what he had done, and put how it made her feel to the side in the name of moving on.

And he had seen his life flash before his eyes. 

Nights of coming home to her, muscles weak, brain fogged, and she’d give him that same look and accept what little he had to offer her. She’d be patient, she’d be forgiving. She wouldn’t get mad that he didn’t have time to take her on dates or trips, wouldn’t bite back when he got snappy after a couple of successive losses and let his frustrations come between them, would resign herself to those little parts of him she’d get to herself in the summer, when he wasn’t training or travelling or trying to fit everyone else in, and would swallow down the longing for something more because she loved him. 

And he couldn’t subject her to that, no matter how much she tried to fight him on it, or tried to call him out. 

No matter how much he wanted to be better for her, how much he wanted her to change his mind, the one quality he loved so much was going to be their demise, and so he had relied on it to cling on to the one thing he can give her.

Friendship.

Even if she won’t accept it for a while. Even if she wants to tell him to leave, and to ignore his texts, and his calls, and his efforts to bump into her at work, she has to forgive him. It’s who she is. 

She’ll forgive him and they can be friends.

Eventually.

And so with the weight of her bracelet in his pocket the whole walk home that night, Nico had decided that he could take a leaf out of Poppy’s book. 

He could be patient while she came to terms with what he had done. He could be generous with the space she needed. He could be positive and push down the bubbling doubt that she’ll forgive him at all.

—

Space happens to be the one thing Nico struggles with the most when it comes to Poppy. Especially conceptualised in the way that it has become - because he can’t physically give her space, they work in the same building. They share the same friends, they end up in the same rooms, and his resolve is as weak as ever where she is concerned, especially when she’s so close, so his generosity ends up being the trait that wains first.

He will give it to himself, he has been trying. He hasn’t been texting her as much as he wants to, understanding that bombarding her with begging and pleading is not only pathetic, but could also be considered harassment. And that will do him no favours in trying to earn back her favour.

But the other night he had been up on the roof after a long day, the air cold but the evening nice, and as he looked out across the Hudson, he had remembered how Poppy had once said her favourite time of the day, and her favourite thing about where she lives, was getting to see the sunset. 

On the early winter evenings, when she’d not long gotten home from work, she liked looking out her window and basking in what she had called cotton candy skies. Swirls of pinks and greyish purples behind the rows of skyscrapers on the other side of the river, all of which reflected the lowering sun in a glimmering, golden glow. He had taken a picture and sent it straight over with the thought that she might be missing it, and he just wanted to let her know. 

Even avoiding him, even wanting space, he was hoping she would at least appreciate that.

The sentiment attached to the picture had read, Just in case you don’t catch this yourself. And as he periodically checked his phone for the rest of the night, he had realised she had probably turned her read receipts off.

At least she hadn’t blocked him.

Nico had, however, started to get creative when it came to work.

Unable to stifle the need to check up on her, or to make sure something happened to brighten her day, he had taken to recruiting the rest of the guys to help.

He should have known how easy it would be, his first enlistment being Jack, who he knew would visit Poppy often, anyway. Only, now he did so with a drink in hand. Peach iced tea if his trip to her office was anytime after lunch, and a hot chai with oat milk if it was before. Nico had initially suggested snacks, but Jack had ended up eating them, himself, which turned out to be useful when it came to bribing him for information.

According to Jack, she was doing okay. Cracking jokes, rolling her eyes at the stupid nicknames he would come up with, and overall she seemed like her normal self. No signs of insurmountable heartache - not Jack’s words, but his own deduction.

He had been surprised at the lack of questions from him, but Jack knows when not to push something, so maybe he had decided to go easy on Nico for now.

Timo had been making sure she was breaking for lunch, checking in every few days so it wasn’t obvious.

John and Bass had taken to calling dumb jokes out to her every time they saw her in the halls, just to make her crack.

Curtis and Dougie had signed themselves up for the mentoring sessions she had been chasing them for since the season had started.

She had been fine with everyone - she smiled, she laughed, she joked, she engaged in conversation - and it was like nothing had happened.

Only, when Nico had felt brave enough to attempt even just eye contact, she wouldn’t even look at him.

No matter how many of the guys reported back that she was doing fine, he could see it every time he looked at her. 

He could see it even when he wasn’t looking at her - that teary, pleading frown she had given him as she had tried to take his hand, the resigned acceptance he had seen when she’d monotonously told him that they had made a mistake, assuming she was mirroring his own sentiments, the tremble in her lip as she had waited for him to leave with her head down at the door.

He thinks about it more often than is healthy, in situations where his focus should really be elsewhere.

Like in the gym, arms shaking as he attempts to lift more than he has in a while, and Jonas who is spotting him has to intervene before he ends up getting crushed.

Like in training, adrenaline pumping as his mind races all over the place, weaving around the defensemen and making sloppy attempts to swipe the puck until he finds himself on the weaker side of a nasty check by Luke that he can’t even argue was unwarranted.

Or in important debriefs in the small team auditorium, where one of their associate coaches, Travis, is going over team strategy before they travel to play the Canes, and he really should be absorbing all the information for such a crucial game - the potential to build on their current 2 game winning streak theirs for the taking - but all he can think about is the looming distance between him and Poppy.

They’re going down to Tampa after, and then head straight into the All Stars break. He isn’t going to see her for almost 2 weeks. Isn’t going to be able to send anyone to check up on her - not without rousing suspicion at least.

He thinks having Bratter knock on her door at home might ring alarm bells.

The distracted glance Nico casts towards the creaking door of the auditorium as it opens is instinctual and fleeting, but all his senses go into high alert when he sees who comes through it. 

The guys have been right, for the most part.

She does look okay.

She looks put together - probably more than he has looked the last two weeks without her, having barely shaved and punishing himself with a borderline dangerous lack of rest - her smart casual attire is neat and co-ordinated, a buttoned up red cardigan and long, dark trousers, her hair up in a ponytail that sways with her movement, and the only indicator that she has any sort of discomfort is the slight purse of her lips where he can tell she’s chewing at the corner.

Travis has become background noise - whatever he’s saying Nico is sure he can catch up on another time - and all he can focus on is the way she watches the coach with genuine interest.

Poppy is the kind of person that gives anyone the time of day - makes them feel like whatever it is they’re saying is the most important thing in the world, and he yearns for a day where her attentions are directed his way again. 

“And Poppy is here from the Youth Foundation,” Her name is one way to get his focus back, Nico’s eyes having not left her figure since she snuck in, leaning beside the door with a binder in hand. He follows as she descends the few stairs to the bottom and moves beside Travis, holding the binder to her chest as she smiles to the rest of the guys. “They have a favour to ask of anyone with some free time that you’re willing to give in your week off, she’s more likely to convince any of you than I am so I’ll just hand straight over.”

“Thank you, Mr Green,” she flicks the binder open, and Nico finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of her looking up and accidentally meeting his eyes, even for a second. “I know you guys are well overdue some time off, and we’d never usually ask so close to the fact, but we have a clinic out in Garfield on the 29th, we’ve donated a bunch of equipment and have some money to donate for the programme they have, and we were supposed to have Patrik Elias out to present it to the kids up there but he’s been held back in Czechia and won’t make it.”

Nico fights the urge to do something stupid like shoot up and volunteer straight away - if not for the fact that he’s supposed to be giving her space and shouldn’t force himself into her good graces, then for the fact his parents will be back in town by then, and he has plans throughout the week with them. Him looking desperate is the least of his concerns.

“If any of you are gonna be around, it would just be for the afternoon, a couple pictures and maybe some skating with the kids. There’s also one of those huge fancy cheques if you’re into showboating,” she tries to sell it, and earns a few affectionate snickers, but Nico knows these guys - while they’re generous people, and he loves them all, and knows they all love her, they’re exhausted, and have been waiting too long for a week of reprieve. 

He kicks at the shin of whoever happens to be sat closest to him. Holtzy. Perfect. He knows he was planning to stay in Jersey. It earns him a glare, but it captures his attention enough so that Nico can level him with a stern look back. 

“If anyone wants to do it, just swing by my office-,”

“I’ll do it,” Alex raises his hand after rolling his eyes and acquiescing to his captain, faking a smile Poppy’s way.

“Oh,” she doesn’t mask the surprise on her face, her lips parting in shock and eyes rounding in disbelief. She looks to Travis who just gives an approving nod in response. 

And, only because he snickers in amusement, Nico kicks Dawson, too. He hasn’t sent him Poppy’s way yet, he’s overdue his turn, and it’s his own fault for laughing at Holtzy’s misfortune. 

“Me too,” Dawson sighs, raising his hand as well and kicking back at Alex when he laughs in turn at him. 

“That was easier than I thought, thank you guys, the kids will be over the moon with the two of you!”

Nico wishes he was the recipient of the smile she gives the both of them. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen her wear in recent weeks, and he can see the light reflect in sparkles in her eyes from all the way across the room. 

That should hold him off for a bit - that little bit of warmth she gives. And sure, it isn’t directed his way, but he can settle with the fact that he’s technically the cause of it. Maybe when he’s down in Raleigh or Tampa he’ll see that smile instead of the other look etched into his recent memory.

“That’s all I’ve got, I’ll leave you guys to your meeting, thanks again!”

He watches her the whole way out, until the door swings closed behind her retreating figure, and his mind races with a surge of misplaced adrenaline for the rest of the debrief.

That’s most of the guys checked off his list, now.

Dawson and Alex are going to help her out with the hockey clinic, John and Nate have been making their way through the worlds worst dad jokes for the past two weeks to relay back to her, Jack is on drink duties, Timo on lunch, Curtis and Brendan are hopefully slowly thawing the ice with cute pictures of their kids. Jonas, Dougie, Haula, Dawsy, Pally - majority of the team have been recruited on his mission to keep her spirits up. Those who haven’t yet had a task are more than willing to play along.

All except one.

His attention drifts over to a mop of curly hair a few rows down, slumped in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, and though he can’t see his face from where he’s sat, Nico imagines it bears the same angered frown it had when he’d checked him on the ice, earlier. 

Luke is pissed, even as distracted as Nico has been lately, that much is obvious, and he needs to get him on side if he has a chance of ever fixing things with Poppy.

He had underestimated their relationship, when he’d given it some thought, before. When they had been talking about Poppy that one time on the flight back from the Capitals game, and Luke had suggested she had deeper feelings than Nico had ever previously considered.

He had assumed because he’s never seen them together much, that they weren’t as close as Poppy and Jack seem to be, but he knows now he was wrong. 

Luke can be reserved to most, cast in the ever present shadow of his older brothers and held to unfair standards, but he is quietly observant, Nico has noticed, and he clearly sees more of Poppy than he lets on.

He knows Luke is protective over her, that he cares more than he’ll probably ever say.

He hadn’t overshared something she wouldn’t have been comfortable with when they’d had that initial conversation about him and Poppy pretending not to be into each other. He had told Nico to talk to her, had called him out on suppressing his feelings for her and pushed him to take action.

And when he had encountered Nico with Talia in the elevator back in their apartment building, he had been disappointed. 

Jack had been awkward, and evasive, but Luke had a clenched jaw and a purposely avoidant gaze. 

He thinks he gets it.

Luke had encouraged Nico to pursue Poppy, and in his pursuit, Nico had ended up hurting her.

As much as he definitely blames his captain, Luke also blames himself, and Nico of all people knows how frustrating that can be. 

When Travis calls time on the meeting, and the group disperse, Nico rushes down the steps as the boys flood out of the room and catches up to Luke with hastened steps.

“I need to talk to you,” Nico falls in line beside him, a hand clapped authoritatively on his upper back to guide him off his path and toward the locker rooms.

“Can it wait? I’m hungry,” Luke huffs, trying to resist the rerouting but falling victim to one of Nico’s infamous glares.

“Don’t make me pull rank,” he sighs as he yanks the heavy door open, his free hand gesturing for him to enter while the one on his back gives a light shove, “In.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the check earlier, it was a dick move, I didn’t mean it,” Luke starts as Nico follows him into the otherwise empty room, closing the door behind him and gesturing for Luke to take a seat.

“Come on, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” Nico scoffs, “You’re pissed at me. You have been since you saw me with Talia back in our building, but you’ve got the wrong idea,”

“Your personal life is none of my business,” Luke says like it’s something he’s been taught, something he’s rehearsed, and there isn’t a doubt in Nico’s mind that he and Poppy have been the topic of conversation in the Hughes household since the day he had run into them, maybe even before. Jack has been avoiding the topic like he’d never seen it happen, giving Nico a breather where he had initially thought he would call him out - but it’s becoming increasingly clear that Luke is the actual confrontational one of the two of them.

“If you have something to say to me, I’d rather you just come out with it than check me in a practice game, Hughes.” Nico sighs, leaning against the door to block Luke’s path out and staring him down until he relents. He has never thought he would be thankful for someone checking him before, especially not in a practice game, but the minor hit has given him the perfect opportunity to clear the air.

“Fine. I don’t like how you treated Poppy,” he says, plainly, “She’s supposed to be your friend, you don’t do that to someone you care about.”

“Carry on.” Nico thinks a part of him is urging Luke to argue because Poppy won’t, and he needs to have someone he can vent to - even if it’s someone who won’t side with him. He probably prefers it that way, ever the glutton for punishment.

“If you didn’t like her the same way, you shouldn’t have led her on, she deserves better than that.”

“I agree.”

“And she-,” his eyes narrow, “You agree?”

“I didn’t break things off because I don’t like her the same way, I did it because I do,”

“I hope you understand how stupid that sounds.” Luke rolls his eyes as he throws himself into his cubby, running a hand through his curls in frustration.

“I know it might not make sense, but I’m trying to do what’s right. She deserves someone who can give her one hundred percent of themselves, who isn’t away all the time and isn’t constantly stressed out of their mind or too tired to function.” He finds himself relaying Talia’s exact sentiments, and the memory of that particular conversation makes his stomach churn. 

“I care about her too much to end up being the guy who can’t make her happy. I know you of all people understand that to some extent, Luke.” It’s one of the few flaws of making it to the elite level of their sport - the lack of balance between their career and their personal entanglements. They’ve both spent their lives wanting nothing but to win and succeed, and it’s always going to be difficult to come to terms with, but the cold, hard truth is that they can’t have everything without paying the price for it. Something will have to give, and it would be an injustice for that something to be Poppy. “It wouldn’t be fair to her to start something that I can’t put my all into. So, I agree, she deserves better.”

“You know what else she deserves, Nico?” Luke stands from his point on the bench, the inch between them seeming more than it really is when he’s dishing out home truths like punches to the gut. “She deserves to make her own decisions. She deserves for you to be honest with her and not let your ego get in the way of what she might want.”

There it is again. Luke letting on that he knows something he doesn’t about Poppy. Unease spreads throughout his every nerve ending.

He’s always been the one who knows Poppy. Who understands her. Who gets how she thinks and grasps how she feels. 

Luke might think he does, but he doesn’t. Not like Nico.

Nico, who can’t quite fathom how he’s ended up being schooled on how to treat a woman by a 20 year old. By Luke. 

“It isn’t ego,” he mutters in denial, but it’s no use. Luke is scarily prompt to retort - especially when it comes to defending Poppy, Nico knows by now. It would be endearing if it didn’t frustrate him to no end.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’re so afraid to fail with her that you won’t even try.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” He knows again that’s a pathetic excuse. Poppy had called him out on it, herself. But surely the hurt now is nothing in comparison to the hurt that could be. 

The hurt that comes with the demise of an actual relationship. Of building and building and building something, putting in years of tiresome efforts only for it to be demolished just as the final brick is laid. Of the ever-growing love between the two of them wilting into something sad and lifeless.

He can take the silent treatment. He can take the avoidance.

He won’t be able to handle that.

“How’s that going for you?” 

Luke isn’t trying to be mean, he knows that, but it doesn’t lessen the sharpness of his words - the truth digging into the most sensitive parts of Nico’s skin so deep that he feels like he’s bleeding out.

Nico sits down himself, no longer blocking the exit and allowing for Luke to leave of his own accord - only, the younger boy sits beside him, heaving out a prologued sigh and giving his captain a friendly pat on his leg. 

“Just give her time, she’ll come around, and then the two of you can talk. And when you do, you owe it to her to be open about what you both want. If you can promise me you won’t do anything else to hurt her, I’ll promise you to stop checking you in practice.”

“Sounds fair,” Nico agrees, mustering up a weak smile to give to the younger defensemen before Luke stands up. “Sorry for cornering you.”

“You’re fine, I was being an idiot.” Luke shrugs, making his way over to the door, and only because he clearly can’t help himself, he stops before leaving. “You see how easy that was to admit?”

Nico usually has better aim, and he blames Luke’s speedy departure for the way the pad he throws hits the wall with a soft whack.

Frustration is a feeling Nico doesn’t think he has ever been as familiar with as he has been lately. 

He’s frustrated as a player - the team unable to keep a winning streak to save their lives, having lost both of their games on the road last week and the mentality of the locker room dwindling with every week that passes that they don’t keep their momentum going.

Frustrated as a captain, specifically for the teammates they keep dropping to injury. Jack, Timo, Eric, Pally all dipping in and out with scratches, the roster dwindling with every passing game.

Frustrated as a friend, guilt building every time he thinks about Jack becoming more reserved in the days leading up to the All Star break, his shoulder putting him out of contention to play and the team having to send Jesper as their representative in his place. 

And, it goes without saying, frustrated when it comes to Poppy - who he had hoped would be in attendance when he had elected himself to take Jesper’s place at the signing and Q&A session he had scheduled at the end of the week. When he had come all the way out to the Rock and sought her out in the Foundation offices after volunteering, he had found out she had been off sick since that day in the auditorium, so his frustrations had crescendoed to an all time high. 

Even his parents being back in town hasn’t helped - his mother more observant than he likes to think, and she has been pecking away at any attempts of a cool exterior with more questions than he thinks he’s going to be on the receiving end of at this Q&A.

Nico has never been one to complain about any kind of community event, but the thought of having to spend all day plastering on a fake smile and pretending he isn’t at his boiling point is proving to be difficult.

So, when Jessica, the media admin who had been debriefing him on what was going to be posted on the team socials, had finally finished and had left to liaise with one of her colleagues, he had sent his mother, Katja, away to grab him a drink before the signing started. 

He just needs a moment of quiet. Where he can self-level the anxiety that is currently crushing him like a bug, take some deep breaths, and mentally prepare for the overwhelming social interactions he is about to endure. 

He wishes Poppy could be there.

He had tried texting her, just to check on her, but again, she hadn’t replied, and the thoughts have been swirling into something ugly within him the longer he has gone not knowing where or how she is.

Is she actually even sick, or is this just another attempt to stay out of his way?

The breathing clearly isn’t working, he thinks. Maybe walking might help.

Or maybe walking straight into the front of the girl who is the cause of all his frustrations might help.

As soon as he sees her, he feels guilt prick at his nerves like continuous, thick needles pushing into the flesh.

When he thinks back on the weeks before, he doesn’t entirely know if he had wanted her to look worse for wear, but as he takes her in now, he realises he hadn’t.

This is the furthest thing from what he had wanted for her.

Poppy stands before him a paler version of herself - eyes sunken, lips chapped, a slight sheen to her forehead that has caused the baby hairs around there to curl up and stick to her skin. 

Her boss Elaine had said she was sick and he had selfishly spiralled into the assumption it was just another attempt to avoid any contact him, but now his chest feels heavy with a mixture of shame and worry.

She takes a moment too long to gather herself after their initial collision, and his words feel heavy in his mouth as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse, and the way she blinks up at him is slow and fatigued. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t look like you should be working.”

“I’m fine.” She definitely doesn’t sound fine. “Where’s Jesper?

“Bratter went to Toronto to take Jack’s place in the All Stars, they didn’t tell you?” It hadn’t been a last minute decision, so he isn’t sure how she wouldn’t know already.

“Oh,” she frowns, and if he wasn’t so worried, he’d find it cute how she looks like she’s trying to recall a memory where that information had been relayed to her. “Yeah, I think they did. They didn’t tell me who’s replacing him, though.”

“That would be me.” He doesn’t point out that it should be obvious.

“That seems like overkill.” There’s a hint of familiarity that he feels at the quip, and Nico doesn’t know if she’s trying to crack a joke or trying to be rude - he doesn’t care, either way. When he notices her squinting against the light, he subtly shifts until she’s no longer facing it directly.

“I volunteered.” He admits, and he watches as realisation sinks in. He volunteered just to be near her, and if she calls him out on it, he’s in no fit state to deny it. Of course he did, she has barely spoken to him in almost 4 weeks, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s losing his mind a little. “I was hoping we could talk after,”

“Nico,” she sighs, touching her palm to her temple and seemingly applying pressure, pinching her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through a wave of what looks like disorientation, “I really can’t deal with this today,”

“I miss you, Poppy,” he hums, and he knows it’s an asshole move, to take advantage of the current situation, of her being sick and having lowered her defences, but he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t take the opportunity to touch her. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, strokes a thumb softly at her cheek, and tries not to think too much about the way she seems to lean into it. “I’m worried about you.”

“You’re supposed to be giving me space.” She sounds defeated, and there’s a selfish part of him that hopes she is - that she is relenting to his advances and giving in - but he knows Poppy too well to assume it’s going to be that easy.

He doesn’t even like to think about how much he has hurt her. When images of that evening flash through his memory - when he closes his eyes and sees her teary ones looking back at him, can hear how she’d fought for him to listen, to figure things out together - his chest aches in a way he doesn’t think it has before. It’s relentless, and excruciating, and he hasn’t yet found a coping mechanism that gets rid of it.

Except for seeing her. When he sees her, it lessens. When he hears her laugh from around a corner, or spots her in the halls at The Rock, talking with her co-workers or perusing one of the vending machines, he can pretend he’s okay. He can pretend that they’re just not talking because they’re both busy - not because he monumentally messed everything up with her.

And now, talking directly to her, touching her, seeing her up close - despite the difference in her usually bright complexion - he can convince himself of the same. Things are okay. They’re okay.

“I also said I still wanted to be friends.” He tries, his hand still cupping the side of her face before she shakes him off.

“Except that we’re only friends when it suits you.” She accuses with a frown, a little energy seeming to flood back into her system. “And when it doesn’t, you just toss me off to the side like I mean nothing to you.”

“That’s not true, I-,”

“I really don’t feel well enough to be having this conversation right now.”

“Then when? Every time I see you, you can’t get away fast enough. We work together, we have to see each other, you can’t avoid me forever.” He knows he doesn’t deserve to rush her. He knows he has no right to be making any kind of demands, and that the situation they’re in is entirely his doing, but he can’t help himself.

He’s frustrated.

He’s desperate. 

He had thought he could give her the patience she deserves - the space she needs - but it has been proving immensely difficult, and he just wants her back.

In whatever capacity she’s willing to offer, he’ll take it - as long as her eyes meet his for longer than a second at a time and he gets to be on the receiving end of one of her heart-stopping smiles, he’ll take it.

Even if they can’t be what they were. If the texts cease, the dinners together stop, the drives home from the Rock aren’t on the table anymore - he just wants to know there’s still love between them. That when she looks at him she doesn’t only feel the crippling hurt he fears he has caused her.

“You had no problem shutting me out the last time,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at him, “It should be like second nature for you to ignore me again.”

“That isn’t fair, it’s not the same-,”

“Poppy!” 

Nico has always loved the way his mother is enamoured by Poppy.

The first time they had met, she’d been besotted with her. It had been during Poppy’s first year with the team - his parents had come out quite late in the season, late enough that he hadn’t seen them in a while since the summer, and he was anticipating their arrival with child-like excitement. 

Their flight into Newark had been delayed, and with them coming out on a game day, he was shut in the locker room by the time they had arrived, and he had asked Poppy for his biggest favour yet in the course of their friendship.

She had agreed to it no questions asked, no favour held over him in return, and she had pretty much hosted the two of them from their arrival at the Prudential Center to when the arena had emptied.

When Nico had reunited with his parents in the family lounge, Poppy had still been with them, waiting until she saw them off into their son’s company before leaving them alone, and he had never been more grateful to someone in his life.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he had apologised as he embraced his father, a firm clap coming down on his back as his arms wrapped around him, and he had smiled at Poppy over his shoulder. “Did you guys enjoy the game?”

“Of course we did, we had the best company in all of New Jersey,” his mother had her own arm around his best friend, Poppy’s cheeks flushing as she smiled bashfully back at him. 

Nico had kissed his mom on the cheek and had given her a side hug with the arm not around Poppy before he moved his attention to his friend.

“Thank you for looking after them,” he beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her once his mother had released and giving her a little squeeze. “I owe you,”

“That’s alright. Your dad got a little rowdy in the second period, but other than that they weren’t too much trouble,” Poppy had shrugged, a mischievous smirk cast toward his father who gave a humoured scoff in return.

“You were yelling louder than me, Poppy,” he remarked, his accent thick and his tone fond. “Katja tell him.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nico chuckled, shaking his head toward his mom as she opened her mouth ready to pick a side, “I believe him, she gets creative when it comes to calling out the refs, I’ve heard it before.”

“Sorry for being passionate about my team,” she had pouted, “I’ll just sit in silence while you all get high-sticked to holy heaven next time.”

Nico had felt warmth wash all over him when he heard his dad’s loud cackle of a laugh - the kind he gave over family game nights when Nina outsmarted both her brothers, and they would turn to their father for some kind of defence, the kind of laughter filled with familiarity and affection - and had seen his mother’s crinkling eyes and dimpled smile.

“Do you need a ride home?” He had asked, swallowing down the attraction that was spiralling within him before it was too obvious to ignore. They had rode in together that morning, and he would usually drive her home if that was the case, but he had also promised his parents he would treat them to a nice meal after their long flight in.

“I’m alright, I can hitch a ride with one of the other boys,” Poppy declined, “You guys enjoy your dinner, it was really nice to meet you.”

“Nonsense,” Katja had exclaimed, a hand on Poppy’s arm as she moved to hug her goodbye, “Come with us, Nico can drop you home after,”

“We’ve been dying to hear someone tell us all of Nico’s secrets about his life over here.” Rino had joined in, egging Poppy on until she couldn’t say no.

When she had looked over to Nico, he hadn’t realised she was silently asking for his permission, too busy looking at her with a dopey grin on his face before he pulled himself together enough to nod his approval.

“Okay, yeah, thank you,” Poppy had agreed, “I just have to grab my bag from the office, I could meet you at your car in five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in five.”

Nico had watched her go off as his mother looped her arm through his, leaning into him and watching Poppy until she disappeared through the far doors. 

“I like her,” Katja had a big, complimentary grin on her face when Nico looked down a little at her - and despite slipping into their native tongue, Nico had thought it would be obvious to anyone listening in what they were talking about just from the look on his mother’s face.

“Yeah, she’s great,” He had concurred, shaking her off his arm so that he could wrap it around her shoulders as they walked, and in a true show of his denial at the time, he had added, “A really good friend.”

He still remembers the sound of his mother’s knowing hum, that interaction between the four of them a catalyst for the feelings he had for the longest time suppressed.

Weeks ago, Poppy had asked him the last time he had wanted to kiss her. He’d told her about a night in a bar after the team had crashed out of the playoffs last year. A night where, in all the anguish and misery and regret, she had made him feel like he could breathe again. It was the last time he had felt overwhelmed by the urge to take the leap into something more with her.

The first time had been that night with his parents, when he’d dropped her back at her apartment after an evening of them oversharing embarrassing childhood anecdotes and Poppy sharing her own stories - ones she had of her favourite memories with Nico, and even ones without, letting his mom and dad into the strongroom that was her life before she met their son. 

Looking back, he thinks that night truly would have been a catalyst for his blossoming affections if he didn’t feel the watchful gaze of his parents waiting in his car while he made sure Poppy got inside safe.

He would have kissed her, he knows it.

Instead, he had returned to the driver’s seat and tried to ignore the smug grin his mother kept sending through the rearview mirror from her place in the back seat the whole journey to their hotel.

In the years since, her affections for Poppy have only grown, and so he should have expected that she would get excited the second she saw her - he only wishes her timing was better.

“Hi, Mrs Hischier” Poppy smiles despite her discomfort, the apples of her cheeks rounding and endearment sparkling in her previously dull eyes. The energy she gives to his mother is a stark contrast to that she had just been giving to Nico. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s Katja, sweet girl, it’s clearly been too long since we have spoken!” His mother’s arms wrap around her, and he watches as Poppy’s body seems to melt at the touch, tense muscles relaxing and hand rubbing at her back. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look too good, are you feeling okay?”

She presses the back of her hand to Poppy’s clammy forehead as Nico remembers her doing so often to him as a child, gauging her temperature and casting a concerned glance over her from head to toe. 

“I’m alright, I’ve just been off sick the past week, I still probably look a little like a zombie,” Poppy chuckles, dismissively, still maintaining an eyre of warmth in the way she looks at his mother.

“Not at all, as pretty as ever, isn’t she, Nico?” His mom nudges him as if he needs any prompting to compliment her.

“Yeah,” he agrees without hesitation, and he starts to feel palpitations when her eyes glance quickly over to meet his before darting away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Poppy huffs, and he doesn’t entirely know who she meant that for. “Did you and Rino enjoy your trip to Canada?”

Nico doesn’t know why he finds himself surprised by the way Poppy effortlessly recollects the information - a throwaway comment he had made to her in the back of that bar all those weeks ago of his parent’s whereabouts. Poppy remembers because she cares. She has always cared. Always listened to what he has to say, even if he thinks it’s irrelevant, and has always shown interest. 

He finds himself watching her as she catches up with his mother, giving tired smiles but engaging nonetheless, the conversation flowing between the two of them just as effortlessly as it had on the day they had met - where they had conversed over dinner like they had known each other for years, and Nico had blushed every time he met his mother’s eyes from across the table.

He remembers his birthday dinner with his family at the beginning of the month, where he had sat in mostly-silence and wished for her company, and he starts to wonder if it’s always going to be like that, from now on. 

If he’s always going to be longing for her. If he’s always going to feel like something’s missing if she isn’t around.

“I should go,” he hears her say, “I have to check some of the questions with the moderator and they’ll be opening the doors for the signing, soon.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” his mom presses a comforting hand to Poppy’s arm, thumb rubbing in a soothing gesture before they part with goodbyes and a promise to catch up, properly, at some point. 

Nico doesn’t miss the way she hadn’t given him the same courtesy. And neither does his mother.

Her eyes narrow in his direction, and just as her lips part to no doubt call him out, a figure comes up beside them,

“They’re ready to start the signing if you are, Nico.” Jessica’s unusually perky voice rings out beside him, and he’s never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.

He hasn’t seen that disappointed glint in his mother’s eyes since he’d told her he was bringing a girlfriend home to meet her at the end of last summer, and had shown up to the house with Talia in tow.

Poppy

As backwards as it might seem to some people, the only part of Poppy’s life where she is able to seek complete solace in recent years has always been in her work.

When she had first gotten her job within the organisation - a co-op internship that covered her final year of college - she had been almost overwhelmed with pride for the first time in her life. She had always been a good student, had got into college of her own merit and hadn’t used family connections like she suspected her brother had done, and she had worked her butt off to prep for the application and interview.

And when she’d gotten the call to tell her they wanted her on the team, she had been over the moon.

She’d gotten along so well with the people she had met in the team so far, had loved their ethos and the environment at the Rock, and she couldn’t wait to build something great for herself when she got started.

She had immediately called home after accepting the position, buzzing with excitement to tell her father that she of all the alleged thousands of applicants had been accepted to work on the media programme for the New Jersey Devils, a respected establishment in one of the biggest sporting leagues in the country. She had expected he would be proud of her, too, but he had ended up heaving out a disappointed sigh, and she could hear him fold up his paper in the background before he had asked, “Hockey, Poppy? Really? What kind of success do you expect to find in such a barbaric environment?”

As much as his disapproval had hurt at that time, she credits her father’s aloofness with her happiness in her role to this day.

It turns out, she can find a lot of success in a barbaric environment if she puts enough of her heart into it.

Even back in her media days, acting as a lackey for some of the more senior guys and trudging through those first few months of hazing, she had loved her job. 

Sharing insights into the team and the sport, determined to break any stigma associated with the guys who played it and all while highlighting the way it brought pride and community to her home state, she left the building every day with a pep in her step and a giant grin on her face.

And it only got bigger when she was recruited onto the Youth Foundation team. The projects she has worked on, the people she has met, the incredible things they have all achieved together - she doesn’t think she could have gotten any luckier with her career - despite what her judgemental, uppity parents think of it.

So, when things get hard elsewhere - when she spends a little too much time with her family and goes a little stir crazy, or when she gets her heart broken by the one guy she had trusted to handle it with care, and ends up fixating on the possibility of him rekindling things with a woman he had told Poppy didn’t make him happy - she resorts to her factory settings of knuckling down and putting her work first.

Which is how, in the weeks since Nico had left her apartment that horrific night, she has attached her name to every project she can pick up. She has accepted every meeting, answered every call, returned every email, all with a smile she had felt like she was forcing at first, but has started to feel real as time has gone one.

And she thinks it’s working.

She doesn’t dread coming into the Arena - doesn’t pace the length of her office to prepare herself every time she needs to leave it, doesn’t hold her breath as she turns the corners in anticipation of seeing him, doesn’t wince every time someone knocks on her door until they pop their head in and reveal themselves.

Poppy has well and truly immersed herself in her work, and she can’t even feel the rattling of the shattered pieces of her heart anymore.

She’s too consumed with other stuff. With hockey clinics, planning fundraisers, local rink openings, development programmes, the Sweep The Deck gala, mentoring sessions, preparations for the Stadium Series in the next month. 

She should be exhausted. 

If she actually gives herself the brain power to think about anything other than work for a second, she probably would be - but she’s turned into a hammerhead shark of sorts, and she knows she’ll suffocate in all the other feelings if she stops swimming. 

If she gives even a second of her time to the constant urge to think about Nico, she’ll drown in him. In the hurt and the ache she feels when he’s even in the same room.

She has taken to pretending he isn’t there. To looking at others, immersing herself too deep in conversations that he won’t dare to interrupt, and she is actually satisfied with how she’s managed to hold herself together when it comes to the rest of the guys.

When the season had started last year, and Poppy had been avoiding Nico for the other reason over the course of those months, she had pretty much locked herself in her office during work hours, and had stayed home outside of them. She didn’t go to games, didn’t go to team events that she wasn’t working, didn’t attend birthdays or dinners or celebration trips to whatever bar could accommodate the whole team for the night. She had stopped engaging as much with the other guys - Jack had even taken to calling her a recluse if she remembers correctly - and she’s determined not to let this mess get in the way of the great relationships she has with the rest of the team. 

If not for the fact that it would be petulant for her to take out her frustrations regarding their captain with them, then for the fact that she needs the companionship.

She needs it so much that she doesn’t run from it, or even pretend like she doesn’t like their company. 

Weeks ago, if she had been coming up from the parking level with Nate Bastian, and he had tried to crack the joke, “Hey, Poppy, why are elevator jokes the best kind? Because they work on many levels,” she honestly would have scoffed and called him lame. But she had felt her lips twitching earlier in the day, and had let him boast about how he had made her smile as they walked together through the building to anyone they passed without even denying it.

The guys have been doing more for her mentality than she can ever thank them for - holding her up while her every instinct is telling her to crumble - and she couldn’t be more grateful to be a part of such a great team.

The Hughes brothers, especially. Luke, who texts her his every rambling thought sandwiched between memes and links to Tiktoks about giraffes, because he knows they make her smile. And Jack, who, despite being out of play with his shoulder, still, checks in with her every day he comes in, a drink in hand when she needs a pick me up the most, and an ever growing list of ridiculous names to call her. 

His continued visits have made her grow less weary of the knocks at her door, and so when one echoes through the room as she’s replying to some emails, she doesn’t feel the stutter of her heartbeat like she would have done last week.

“Hey, Pop,” he pokes his head into her office, fingers flexed around the door jamb as he edges his way in, empty handed, this time, but Poppy can’t hold it against him. Her day is almost finished, after all.

“What, no stupid nickname today? Did I upset you or something?” She pauses typing as she looks up at him, watching him close the door behind himself as he takes her lighthearted tone as an invitation inside.

“I did have a joke lined up about Snap and Crackle, but you’ve ruined it now actually,” he rolls his eyes playfully, throwing himself down in the chair opposite hers and flicking affectionately at his bobblehead. 

“Sorry,” Poppy gives a quick, bashful smile before going back to her work, tapping away at her noisy keyboard as she works her way through her inbox, “What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you’d seen Luke?”

“Not today, he doesn’t usually make a habit of coming down here though. Did he say he was gonna stop by?”

“Not exactly.” Jack frowns, a slight shrug of his better shoulder.

Poppy casts a confused glance his way, eyes narrowing as she watches him fidget in the seat. “Do you guys think the y chromosome is meant to get you out of ever giving a straight answer to something? What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Well, Dawsy said he’d seen him with Nico, and lately that means,” he looks as if he’s weighing up what to say in his head, and Poppy wishes the lower part of her desk didn’t block her legs from his so she could give him a quick kick to the shin, “Well, people usually come straight here after Nico pulls them to talk.”

She sighs.

She had figured as much, but the confirmation of it doesn’t make her heart ache any less.

She’d had her first suspicions when Smitty had shown her every picture she thinks he’s ever taken of his kids the other day. He’d sat beside her in the lounge while the team and staff had been waiting for some sort of safety meeting - one she hadn’t even got to focus much on because he had talked her ear off for almost an hour until he was finally pulled away for some other responsibilities. 

And then Jonas had come by her office - something he had literally never done before. He had found Poppy working on a project, brainstorming with post-its on her cleared floor, and had waited around until she had finished - chipping in little ideas here and there for a presentation on the Learn To Play programme and using his 6’2 stature to take an aerial photo of all her sticky notes that Poppy never would have been able to get right, enabling her to clean them away and tidy up after herself before she finished for that day. It wasn’t that she minded his company, he’d actually been a massive help, but she had this nagging feeling that he would never come see her of his own volition.

Then there was Holtzy and Dawson volunteering for the hockey clinic in the debrief earlier like they were being held at gunpoint and forced into labour.

Nico has put them all up to it.

Even when he’s giving her space, he can’t leave her be.

“So what you’re saying is he’s abusing his position of power to get you all to come talk to me,”

“I don’t know if I’d phrase it like that,” Jack scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, and she only feels a slight pinch of guilt. She knows he had a habit of coming to see her before all of this, but his visits have definitely increased over the past few weeks - so, he isn’t entirely innocent, either. “Maybe he misses you?”

“Maybe he should have thought about that,” she mutters, leaning onto her desk and pressing her palms into her closed eyes to relieve the headache that’s starting to build. 

Distracting herself with work had been going so well.

“You know we can’t talk about this, Jack,” she sighs, “He’s your captain, it’s not fair of me to vent about our situation to you of all people.”

“Ouch,”

“You know what I mean. If it was anybody else, I’d come to you for advice, but you guys are a team, I’m just-,”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Poppy,” Jack rebukes, sitting up straight in his chair and levelling her with a stern look, “You’re our friend. Even if Nico is asking the others to check up on you, they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t care about you. None of us want a repeat of the start of the season, okay, we just want to know you’re alright.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Poppy gives a weak smile, the kind that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “I just don’t want anybody taking sides, I know Luke’s been off with him about the whole thing,”

“That’s probably where he is now,” Jack realises, “He did get a little rough in practice before.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she says, knowing Luke and Nico had a collision earlier that had been the talk of the office all morning. “Look, I love you guys for it, but I don’t need babysitters. I just wanna move on. And you can tell Nico that, the next time he tries to force you out here with.another iced beverage just to keep me company or whatever.”

“Well, they go on the road tomorrow, so you should get some peace and quiet around here.” Jack still seems solemn at the thought of the team travelling anywhere without him, but she has tried one too many times to talk to him about it and, every time, he has shut her down. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and if she’s making a point of not wanting to be pushed on a subject, she isn’t going to do the same to him, even if her instincts are telling her to wrap the guy up in a bear hug and tell him everything will be okay. “I’ll leave you to your work, anyway, I’ll be around until the weekend if you need me, Pop. I promise I would be bringing you drinks even if he wasn’t asking me to.”

He pushes himself up from the seat with his good side before retreating back towards the door, and Poppy can’t let him go without at least attempting to cheer him up. He never usually leaves this quick, always finds some reason to hover and affectionately irritate her just a little - but she can tell he’s done figuring out reasons to linger around the arena for the day.

“I would have laughed, by the way,” she calls out to him, causing him to pause half way out and look back, a questioning brow arched her way. “Snap, Crackle and Pop would have been a good one, it’s funny.”

“They’re all funny, Poppy.”

She really is losing her mind.

As if the universe is playing some gigantic, cruel joke on her, Poppy’s promised peace and quiet while the team have gone on the road has turned into her shut in her apartment with every single curtain drawn, wrapped up under a mountain of covers to combat the shivers, and a leg poking out of them to alleviate the hot flushes - all while battling the most crippling waves of nausea she has ever experienced in all of her adult life.

She had gone home from work on Wednesday and had invited Nia around, hoping her best friend’s anger around the Nico situation had dwindled enough that she wasn’t going to harp on about it all night, and they could enjoy some movies and dirty takeout like they were back in college without Poppy having to even think about anything else.

Uptown Girls had been playing on the TV, empty containers of Korean Hot Pot had littered her coffee table, and Nia had fallen asleep sprawled out across the couch when Poppy had first started to feel off.

She had been watching Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning swirling around in the teacup ride, and had started to feel like her own living room was spinning.

She had barely made it to her bathroom before she was puking her guts up, waking Nia in the process who had spent the next hour holding her hair back before she tucked her into bed.

Poppy had called in to work the next morning. She had missed even watching the game against Carolina, could barely remember a solid half an hour of consciousness between that Wednesday night and Saturday morning.

All she remembers is vomiting, Nia checking in after work, bringing an abundance of electrolyte drinks and trying to get her to eat before she had to leave again She recalls burning bagels she had forgot she had left in the toaster, vomiting again at the smell of the burned bagels, and having a series of the most absurdly vivid dreams she’s ever experienced in her life. 

All of which had one common theme.

Nico.

Dreams where she’s swimming in a large, unidentifiable body of water. It’s cold, and she is exhausted, and her limbs ache from treading water and trying to stay afloat. It’s mostly dark, sometimes lit by the moon, the reflection of which shimmers in her path to something in the distance. And she’s stretching, reaching out, desperately kicking her legs to get to whatever it is until she realises it’s him, and he’s swimming away, making it a thousand times harder on her.

Dreams of her stood at the door of her apartment, the repeated knock on the other side echoing on and on as she scrambles to look for the keys to unlock it. It’s a pattern she thinks she recognises, a rhythmic knock that only he has used before, but she can’t get the door open with all her might, and her keys are nowhere to be seen. 

Dreams of their fated night together, only this time it’s like she’s on the outside looking in, watches the two of them in the throes of passion, only when she takes a proper look, he isn’t into it like she is. Or there’s another version where she isn’t herself at all. She has much lighter hair, and mutters out profanities in German as Nico presses sweet kisses into her lips and cradles her face lovingly. She’s Talia, and he looks as happy as ever when she is.

Despite the almost 3 days of round the clock sleep, she has never felt so exhausted in her life.

When the nausea fades ever so slightly, and she gets enough strength in herself to get up - to eat, to drink, to function like a normal human being, she feels sluggish and weak, and like she hasn’t had a moment’s rest in months.

Nia had been checking in, surprisingly not sick herself even though Poppy assumes her bug came from the takeout they shared - but Nia is vegetarian, so she had thought that might have explained it. She had been making sure Poppy remained hydrated, and continued to eat despite the continuous waves of nausea that kept coming back. She had done her grocery shopping, stocking her refrigerator with a bunch of different juices and smoothies, and buying her a bunch of fresh fruit, some bread, some yoghurts, pasta, crackers, plain chips, all the things that would hopefully keep her energy up and her nausea down.

And it had taken her a week to recover to a point that she felt like she could work again. She probably shouldn’t have forced herself back when she wasn’t feeling, or looking, 100%, but she had become so used to using her job as a coping mechanism, that regaining the slightest bit of her energy had her spiralling a little mentally, and she couldn’t take being at home any longer.

She had known that Jesper had his Q&A event, and had to stop by the Rock to pick up some of her files before making her way over - but that trip had proved to be more trouble than it was worth, and she had ended up getting herself all mixed up when she had returned to her office and had ended up dry heaving in the bathrooms when she caught a mix of smells walking through the hallway on her way in.

She had wanted to get some prep work done - approve the questions, meet with the photographers, catch up with Jess from Media, but she had ended up hurled over the toilet bowl for a good hour until she felt somewhat better, and was in so much of a rush to get over to the event that all she had managed to do to pull herself together was throw her hair up and hope that chomping on a breath mint wouldn’t trigger her senses all over again. 

She felt like she was fresh out of The Walking Dead.

She had to get an Uber over, had sat with her head out of the window like some kind of dog to alleviate the sweat that had broken out from her rushing around, and by the time she made it - she was so out of sorts she barely could remember why she was there.

And then she had bumped into Nico.

And she hates that she had felt a little better.

She hates that she found comfort in the fresh smell of his cologne, or the soft touch of his hand to her skin. She hates that the sound of his voice had quelled the rapid thumping of her heartbeat, and that it felt so good just to be in his presence, she had almost forgotten how much she had been hurt. How much he had hurt her.

She hates how she had felt obliged to pretend everything was okay in front of his mother, the sweetest woman on planet Earth embracing her like she was her own daughter, wrapping her up in a shroud of worry and sheer maternal instinct.

And she hates how all of those feelings have lingered throughout the afternoon. As she had watched him engage with his fans during his signing, big dimpled smiles sent to tiny children drowning in jerseys way too big for their small frames, and all adorning his number on the back. As she had watched Katja as the event unfolded, eyes sparkling with pride for her son and everything he has accomplished. As she’s stood and watched him answer questions she knows the answers to like she knows her own favourite food.

Where is your dream vacation destination?

He wants to visit Costa Rica.

What is your favourite sport outside of hockey?

He loves Tennis, loves Roger Federer, a real idol for him as a kid growing up in Switzerland, but also loves soccer, which he always says with an uncomfortable twist to his lips, because his father used to play.

What does he miss the most about home?

His family. His siblings. She probably knows more about Nina and Luca than she knows about Oliver, at this point.

“What’s your favourite thing to do in Jersey when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Uhh,” Poppy watches as Nico rolls his shoulders, his face pensive as he ponders the question, “It depends when we get time off. If the weathers nice, Jersey has some nice beaches, sometimes we go in a group and hang out,” he answers, and just before he carries on, his eyes flicker over to Poppy, meeting hers and holding her gaze until she looks away. “But if it’s when we’re playing I try to spend any downtime with friends. I have some really great friends here and I think that helps me destress a little, just being around them, going out for food and drinks and stuff. Some of my favourite people I have met while I’ve been living here.”

Poppy doesn’t dare look back up, her pulse throbbing in her temples.

“Well that’s a perfect segue into the next question, who’s your best friend on the team?”

She doesn’t stick around to listen to him skirt around that answer, pushing herself discretely through the doors back into the room that the signing had taken place in and busying herself packing up what she can without any help. 

She needs to carry on working, needs to stop thinking, needs to stop feeling so many things. Needs to be somewhere else, where she can’t look at him, can’t admire the way the deep brown of his irises shine when he smiles, or how one of his eyebrows does that cute little hop when he speaks for a little too long, or how she thinks she can still feel his hand on her face even though it’s been at least a good couple of hours since they had spoken by now.

She doesn’t realise how quick she’s moving around until the room starts to spin, and she stumbles a little into a table before steadying herself on one of the chairs.

“Hey, Poppy, are you alright?” The words are spoken in an accent she’s always found comforting, only the voice is different. Softer. Feminine.

She looks up to see Nico’s mom moving closer, concern causing her eyes to go round and her brows to furrow, and the soft, gentle touch of her hand to Poppy’s arm has her stuttering in her response.

“Y-yeah,” she breathes, “Just got a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure, do you need to sit down?”

“I’m okay, honestly,” she smiles, despite the way Katja’s warm, caring eyes mirror those of her son and make Poppy’s chest ache just a little. “I haven’t really eaten much today, I just got a little lightheaded, I’ll be fine once we’re done here and I can go home and eat.”

“Here,” Katja reaches into her purse, digging around before she pulls out some sort of granola bar, “I got this for a snack on my flight and didn’t eat it, you can have it to keep you going.”

Poppy can hardly decline the motherly gesture, and takes the snack with a thank you before unwrapping it and taking a cautious bite. She probably isn’t doing herself any favours, the nausea creeping up when she chews on a bit of dried fruit, and the unexpected flavour immediately triggers her stomach. She’s been sticking to crackers and dry toast, and hasn’t really eaten anything sweet in a week - the combination of the fruit and the syrupy coating making her feel so uneasy she has to sit down. 

“You’re still sick?” Katja sits beside her, watching over her in the way only a loving mother could, concern etched upon her beautiful features and a tilted head examining Poppy from head to toe. 

“I usually shift bugs a lot quicker than this, but I think the not being able to eat and the exhaustion is making everything worse.”

“You aren’t sleeping, either?”

“Technically I might be sleeping too much.” Poppy takes another bite, trying to put her mind over the matter, knowing that it should actually make her feel well enough to get through the rest of the event to have something in her belly. “But I keep having these crazy dreams, and they’re so vivid that I don’t feel rested at all when I wake up, even if I got enough hours in. Then I just feel anxious and it makes me more tired.”

Katja nods understandingly, a knowing smile plucking at her lips until her cheeks dimple, just like Nico’s do. “How many weeks?”

“Have I been sick?” Poppy asks, too busy trying to ignore the sickly sweet flavour on her tongue to notice the woman sat beside her shaking her head, “Just last week. I think it was bad takeout or something, combined with work stress probably-,”

“How many weeks are you into your pregnancy, Poppy?” She chuckles, a gentle hand placed on Poppy’s lap. “You don’t have to pretend to me.”

“My-,” Poppy covers her mouth as she swallows a hardly-chewed bit of granola, “I’m not-,” she struggles a little with her words, cringing at the way she can feel it going down her throat, and clears it with an awkward cough when she can, “Pregnancy?”

“Oh Goodness, I’m sorry,” Katja’s eyes widen in alarm, the hand on Poppy’s knee squeezing apologetically, “I just thought, the dreams, the sickness, the exhaustion, that’s how it started for me with all 3 of my children.”

“Oh.” At least she isn’t the only person Nico has ever caused to have such torturous dreams, she thinks. “No, I’ve just had a bug, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna clear up,” she says, her voice much smaller as she continues to speak through trembling lips, continues to grow more unsure of her words as something akin to dread settles in the pit of her stomach. “And this is like the aftershocks of being sick, or something, one last hurrah for the germs.”

“Of course,” Katja nods, giving Poppy’s knee a comforting rub before placing her hands on her own lap, a sheepish look given as she makes eye contact, the same dark eyes she’s been dreaming about looking right at her. “I would never usually assume, I swear you don’t look it, it was just my first thought when you mentioned the sleep. It just took me right back, my pregnancies were all like that. Heavy sickness, exhaustion, even in my bones I felt tired, and the dreams were crazy, especially with Nico, it was like full movies playing out in my head every night for the whole 9 months.”

“I never knew that was a thing.” Poppy has obviously heard of morning sickness. She’s heard of expectant mothers being exhausted, their bodies worn out from the oh-so-minor task of creating life, but she hadn’t ever heard anyone talk about dreams being an indicator of pregnancy.

“Babies make your body do crazy things.” She gives a reminiscent chuckle, and Poppy notices her lose herself a little in the memory, warm eyes melting with the recollection. “But at least you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Right.” The empty swallow Poppy takes next hurts more than the granola had before, the scratch of the cereal a minor irritation in comparison to the lump currently forming there. “What other symptoms did you have?”

“At the start, food was my enemy. Rino used to have to make me smoothies to get all my vitamins in. You wouldn’t think with the appetite my boys had growing up that they would have made me fear eating so much, but it was bad. I always envied the women who just had a little morning sickness.”

Poppy feels her eyes well up - more so at the way Katja’s eyes glint with pride and love when she talks about her family than anything else. It’s beautiful. Even recalling how sick her babies had made her, Poppy can tell from the look on her face that her pregnancies brought her unadulterated joy.

She remembers when Oliver’s wife, Kimberley, had been pregnant with their first son. They had lived in Jersey, still, back then, and family dinners were a staple every Friday night. They were all sat around the dining table back at the Jensen house, and Kimberley, God bless her, had misguidedly asked Priscilla what her pregnancies were like. 

“Hell.” Poppy’s mom had said, sipping at her wine and looking over the glass at Oliver with a measured glare. “He gave me uneven breasts and dry skin,”

“Mom,” Oliver had grunted in disgust, a protective hand reaching out to take hold of his wife’s.

“And she,” Priscilla gave an accusatory point in Poppy’s direction, “Gave me thin hair and postnatal depression. But she evened my breasts back out, so there’s a silver lining, I suppose.”

Kimberley hasn’t made the same mistake of seeking motherly advice since then. 

“And Nina made me have super-human scent, I could smell things from floors away.”

Poppy can barely look at her anymore.

After she’d spoken to Nico when he’d turned up before, she could still smell him from across the room. And she hadn’t been able to step foot in the common area in her office when she’d dropped by to pick up her files earlier, thinking she could smell someone’s microwaved food and feeling like she was about to vomit. She has only been able to nibble at dry crackers all week just to avoid eating or smelling anything that would set her off.

But that’s the bug, right? She’s been sluggish, she’s been tired, running hot all week, and her body has constantly ached, especially-

“I should get all this stuff packed up,” Poppy shoots up from her seat, thankfully able to suppress the dizziness. “I think I feel better, thank you so much for keeping me company.”

She shouldn’t hope so much that she isn’t being rude, shouldn’t expect or want Katja to hold her to high esteem, but she finds herself cringing at her quick subject change, and caring a little too much that it will make her think less of her.

Her son doesn’t want her to be a part of his life in that way, Poppy thinks, so it shouldn’t matter what Katja feels about her. Not anymore.

“That’s okay, Poppy, thank you for listening to me reminisce. It was nice. Nico usually gets too embarrassed for me to talk about stuff like this.” Katja follows Poppy up, mirroring her to help her pack up the rest of the merchandise that hadn’t been bought or signed.

“I don’t think he could ever be embarrassed by you.” Poppy chuckles despite herself, defending him like it’s second nature, even though she knows Katja wasn’t trying to put him down in the first place. He’s her son, for crying out loud, Poppy thinks, she doesn’t need some random girl he works with acting like she knows him any better than his own mother. “He probably just doesn’t want to think about ever making you uncomfortable, even as a foetus or whatever.”

Katja gives that same knowing smile she had worn just before turning Poppy’s world upside down mere minutes ago. The smile that would be patronising on anyone else, but the warmth in her eyes holds nothing but understanding and appreciation.

“He’s a sweet boy,” she remarks, proudly, “I never thought of It like that."

“Yeah, you raised a gentleman for sure.” Poppy had considered that it would feel more like a lie when the thought had come to her head, but as the words leave her mouth, she finds comfort in them.

Despite how much he had hurt her, she still knows Nico’s heart. She knows he cares deeply, knows he is selfless and warm, and loves with everything in him. He just doesn’t love her - not how she wants him to, at least - but she can’t hold that against him forever.

The words weigh a little heavier when the situation dawns on her, but she tries not to get ahead of herself. Not again.

She can’t be pregnant. That’s insane. 

And she can’t rack her brain trying to remember if either of them had protected themselves with his mom sat right in front of her, she knows for a fact she can’t suppress the heat that rises up her neck at the memory - she may as well wave a gigantic flag that reads Hey, I had sex with your son!

“We’re heading for dinner when he’s finished here, would you want to join us?” Katja asks, motherly concern etched upon her features, and Poppy’s heart warms at the gesture in spite of the panic rousing in her chest.

“That’s alright,” she shakes her head, guilt plucking slightly at her with the telling of the minute lie, “I have plans with another friend.”

“We’ll be going home next week, so there’s plenty of time to catch up, if you’re free at all.”

Poppy can’t help but relent with a soft smile, nodding at the suggestion without overthinking it. She’d accidentally gatecrashed a couple lunches Nico and Katja had together in some of her previous visits, and she was always so welcoming and kind - it would hardly be putting herself out if she were to do it again. “I’d like that,”

“If you’re busy, Nina and Rino will be over for the Stadium game, don’t let them convince you to come out when I’m not there.” She jests with a pointed finger, and Poppy finds herself laughing despite her nerves. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good girl.” Katja reaches out and pinches softly at Poppy’s cheek, “Make sure you keep drinking plenty, and eating too, even if you feel sick you should try make sure you’re keeping your energy up. Try soup with lots of vegetables and bread. You can make it in a big batch and freeze it.”

Poppy can’t remember the last time her own mother had cared about her like this - not without belittling her, at least. When she’d spoken to her mom last week, had told her she was off work sick and couldn’t come over at the weekend, she had heard her roll her eyes over the phone. She’d been told that this is where eating poorly gets her, and that if she was keeping on top of her supplements and vitamin shots, she wouldn’t be so prone to illness. 

Even as a grown woman, with her own career, her own life, her own home, she still feels like a berated child when it comes to her mom. 

Nico’s mom makes her feel child-like in an entirely different way. In a way that’s warm and comforting, a way that wouldn’t give her anxiety every time her name comes up on her phone.

“I will, thank you for looking out for me, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Katja.”

Kindness comes like a second nature to Katja - to all members of the Hischier family she has encountered thus far - and a pang of jealousy and longing hits her at the realisation that some people have just been raised around this level of benevolence their whole lives, and think nothing of it.

Though, she knows Nico appreciates it.

Katja departs back through the doors into the Q&A with a soft smile and an enthusiastic wave, and Poppy waits until they have closed properly before she retrieves her cellphone from her back pocket.

Frustrated at the way it refuses to identify her face, she prods her fingers into the screen, typing in her passcode and swiping until she finds her calendar app. 

She knows she had an appointment scheduled in December with her gynaecologist. She had been in the middle of trialling a new contraception back in October - a sticky patch that had made her bleed continuously for 3 weeks and turned her into a raging nightmare to be around - and had stopped using it despite the 6 week recommendation she had been given, figuring she’d just wait out the rough periods until her next time she was booked in and speak to the doctor about it. But she’d been so busy in the back end of last year, she doesn’t remember how long it’s been since she stopped. 

Her eyes widen when she locates the appointment, clicking into the date, December 15th and reading the notes she left in there.

NEED TO RESCHEDULE!!!! busy w/ work, gynae breaks 4 xmas 22nd, comes back Jan 2nd.

She remembers the phone call as soon as she reads it. She had cancelled instead of rescheduling, knowing she was picking up extra work and would be busy until pretty much after the Christmas break. She was supposed to call in the new year. She’d gotten distracted. She hadn’t thought it was an emergency, it wasn’t like she thought she would need it for contraceptive purposes. And her periods hadn’t even been that bad since she stopped using it. Light flow, 28 day cycle, barely any cramps. She’d even been keeping a track of it, herself. She had nothing to worry about, which is probably why she hadn’t remembered to book herself back in. Hadn’t thought to start taking any other birth control in the meantime.

Her Cycle app is the next stop, flicking through the dates until she realises she was on her period after Christmas, and that the 10 or so days after that had ended were marked another colour, given another meaning.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. 

No, no, no.

This isn’t happening.

She’s jumping to conclusions.

It’s just a sickness bug from the takeout.

The dreams are just her broken heart playing tricks on her.

She isn’t pregnant.

She can’t be pregnant.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[sunny6677]

Ramble about my day again

@catsockpuppet since ya enjoyed my rambles last time if I remember correctly

I kinda overslept this morning since I turned off my alarm without realizing—and ended up being woken by my half sisters dad cuz it was about time for the bus to show up. So i rushed through the polls this morning, did my usual stuff and got ready, and in a half-asleep state I went down to the bus stop. I had a weird ass dream tho. It's kinda gross, so even if it doesn't make me too phased, I know it may gross some other people out. But all I'll say is that something fell out of my body and that afterwards there were weird translucent sticky tree roots like sticking out of me.

I rode on the bus like I normally do, took some photos and drew some stuff. And then once the bus arrived at the school, I took a few more photos cuz of how pretty it looked and sat with my friends at breakfast for a little while. I just had apple juice and that was kind of it. Then when it was time for Psychology—I went on down there and took some more photos cuz it looked pretty still.

Psychology was kinda funny today tbh. We were going over dream stuff since that's what we're supposed to be studying and I wrote the stuff about my dream on the assignment we're gonna be doing for the next few days, but we just got kinda side tracked cuz we all kept talking about out weird sleep walking or dream experiences. Some girl said she apparently writes on a board what she dreams about anytime she wakes up, and another dude told us about a sleep walking experience he had with his dad.

Spanish rolled around, and I think it mighta been cuz I was sleepy, but it felt a lit mess active than usual as we just took notes and everyone around me just sorta talked and talked. I participated in what we were doing as well obviously, but I was too exhausted to really speak.

And then when Chemistry came, my friend who usually sits with me wasn't there—so I just cut out and glued in a bunch of stuff in quietness as my teacher let us take some notes and occasionally got onto the other students.

Then in Technology, he gave some of the other students time to work on their animation concept thing—and I wanted to play Roblox, but my mind was dead set on drawing what I was voted to draw for, so I spent the entire time just drawing random stuff that popped into my head. Hypergraphia thingssss. Got a hug from my friend toward the end though and watched a bunch of Spooky Month tiktoks as I headed to lunch. And also recorded some of the scenery.

I ended up playing Roblox as my friends just kinda joked around during lunch the whole time, and just ate some chips and I drank some coca cola like I normally do. I did talk a little more with them this time though and they kinda laughed at some of my jokes.

And when English came around, we did an activity on different fictional villains based on who was the worst—I think my group ended up doing the best out of them all. And we also ended up reading some more and just discussing our book, but that was kinda it.

In Theater, we learnt about non-verbal expressions and acting. And as of now, I've been paired up with two others for a skit we're supposed to be writing/planning out. We didn't have much time today, so we'll be planning the skit out tomorrow.

Geometry was just kinda boring and I had to listen to my teacher mess with other students or scold them as I kept trying to work the entire time. Geometry, while easy, can be kinda boring sometimes. And I think whenever I'm especially bored, I do worse on it.

And finally when World History rolled around, we finished taking some notes and had some light hearted banter about some of the stuff. And also laughed because this dude kept going on about asking the teacher what her 'favorite method of ancient killing/punishment' was. That was kinda it for today though.

And then on the bus I got kinda stressed at the thought of writing, so that was when I asked if I should take a break as soon as I got home. It also mildly rained tonight, and right now, my brother and his girlfriend are kinda visiting with their new cute lil dog named Violet kdndndn

Photos I took today: