#spotify short story challenge

[catholickedd]

so this is the first in a series of short stories i'm creating based off songs on my spotify playlist. you can find the masterpost here. this one is inspired by wasteland, baby by hozier. hope you enjoy :))))

And the balding man at the news desk proclaimed the end of the world.

And the nuclear alarm sirens screamed in every place there were human ears to hear.

And leaders in every country gave the orders.

And she was too busy tracing the wrinkles on their fingers to notice.

"It never happens to me, you know." she said, softly, slowly, without a care.

"You've got some sort of magical power, then." they replied. She could hear the smile in their voice.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. Not unless it's really bad."

"That's good." It was unbelievably soft, almost a breath through moving lips.

"I was reading about this thing, the other night. They call it quantum entanglement."

"Yeah?"

"These little particles, they, they can be trillions and trillions of miles away from each other, but they still move at the same speed, and if one is changed, the other is changed too. They're entangled. They're entwined. But, if they're observed, it all breaks. It's all over."

"That's pretty sad. Good thing there won't be anyone to observe them soon."

She ran a finger through their ginger curls. They needed a haircut. It was growing past their ears.

"We'll lie here forever, you know. When aliens come, and they look at the Earth, and they try to figure out what went so awfully wrong here - " they pressed a soft kiss to her forehead " - my bones will still be holding yours."

"Do you think, when we go, we'll be together?"

"Are you asking me if I think there's a heaven?"

"More like, a void. Like if our consciousness can escape our bodies. If they do, y'know, do you think I'll be with you?"

"I'd find you. Even if I had to crawl my way up from hell."

She kissed them, tried to make it last as long as she could. And their chain necklaces were tangled in her fingers, and their skin was soft under her hands.

And the sky turned a most beautiful shade of purple. If she had looked up, she would have been paralyzed, staring at the beauty. But she didn't open her eyes.

And the sky became the earth and the earth became the sky, and everything broke and began again, folding into itself, everywhere.

And even when nothing remained, something remained.

"I love you," sighed the moon, sang the stars.

"I love you," whispered the galaxy, cried the nebulae.

And they kept their promise. And they found her. And trillions and trillions of miles away from each other, she and they were still entangled.

And so it began again.

[tristayranambrosio]

Burning Dawn (DWC day 5 Flame)

(The song the Performance is to) The deep violet colored silk runs like a living fluid around me… I am shrouded in their darkness, my light obscured by the panels of night. I am center-stage though I have no audience tonight, I never do for this… I’ve not the skill to perform these acts like those I’ve been lucky enough to call my peers… in this I am out matched, but this is not for them… for anyone. When I part the silk like veils I see her face… forever burned into my thoughts like a desert flame, she wound herself in the very same silks and seduced me with the songs she sang from their heights… I twist the panels of fabric into rope using my toes and tension builds, strength from the coiled silk that is stronger than what it’s softness implies, above my head I wind and twist the second panel of fabric as music fills my ears and muddies her features makes her chestnut skin fade into the same dark violet above me. This isn’t for her… this isn’t for anyone… this is for me. When revealed the lights that pin me scatter rhinestone catch lights like a thousand starbursts from my skin tight attire, in the pinks and magentas and oranges… reds of a sunrise, of a dawn bursting to life still barely arched off the stage between two dangling streams of midnight. I nestle into the familiar embrace of the dark, as if I am the flame of daylight… the first pink fingertips of sunlight reluctant to look towards the horizon. She whispers promises I once believed, the sweetest Symphonies of the life I might have had… She asks the question none had ever before, and I melted in her thrall… I wind the silks tight about my torso, fiercely hoisting my upper body level with the engagement of my core set into a hold the position by gripping the far silk partially wrapped about the arch of each foot, pantomiming a steady ascent away from the ground, as if I am walking step by step while parallel to where I’d laid Dormant. “And who is it who takes care of you I wonder?” The words sound like poison now, they were nectar and I was starving and even now they ring true enough to sting my heart with the memory of barbs plunged into it by the very same question from the very same lips… uttered instead in cruel irony.

I climb. My arms scream in protest but I climb. With each yard I gain another coil wraps about my arm until I use one sweep to upend myself to trade one binding of the arm to wrap my thigh… I echo the same then reach out to the darkness into which I cast a thousand prismatic stars from the gems sewn into my suit. I spread my legs and in a surge throw my weight to swing me upright, my hair threatening to escape its tie, but not yet. I catch myself on the two silk sheets and wrap them under my shoulders, closing my knees to artfully construct a hammock for me to hang seated far above the stage. Perhaps I am a fool to practice the art she perfected… that I learned once to offer a partner… a dancer in silk and symphony. Perhaps I’m torturing myself… But I feel a burning in my limbs, and in my core, and it makes me feel I am one with the music in the air. I give in to the music and the exertion becomes a flurry of flips, and reversals tangling, and untangling, whipping my weight in precise extensions to fall… just right and I climb… higher and higher… towards the light that refracts off of me as if I am a jewel, a lantern hung between the last clutches of violet night.

As I crescendo into the rising action I am suspended, legs split above me as I yank the tie from my hair and it cascades out and down with gravity as I defy it with not but silk tension and the power of my core’s ability to support me. I rake my fingers through the curls I unleashed and feel like something wild and alive, like a spill of color blooming in the waking world. I curl myself in and clutch the underside of my knees back bowed and chest arched outward to the open air, like a star is attempting it’s escape from within me… then I reverse and use the momentum to flip upright my hair fanning out in a wild after image behind me that makes me a magenta comet, like a dawn fast approaching to chase the nocturnal back into resting. I wrap my arms in the silks freeing my legs to walk mid air and build momentum… speed… and I am spinning. I tuck my knees in and clutch my silks so the coil with me, I twirl and spin so fast that I am a blur my hair and crystalline catch lights sparkling like I have set the silk ablaze with flame, with sunlight. I burn… This does not -belong- to anyone… this is just as much my art… in fact, with no witness to it, I am the only one this is for.

As the spinning slows I untangle myself… just to wind the length of the silks slowly in coil after coil around my middle, to cross the one rope with another until I reach the knots above… I am wound and cocooned parallel with the stage once more… and as the music halts I take the breath I need to extend my arm and leg out to one last desperate hold… Then I fall, my weight cut loose from its wound coil and I plummet between the silk like a whirlwind yards and yards that took me the whole performance to ascend, unravel me, and -just- as I would crash land… I catch myself mid drop held effortlessly like a timeless piece of art, limbs like brushstrokes lit by my contrast against the dark… I am a flame defiant and my own. The music fades… and I gracefully lower myself to touch down… now a flame slowly dying in the sunset of the performance. No one applauds… but I also do not feel the lingering scorn… or the shame for having come to love the way my body aches after each dance in the air with not but fabric as a partner… I let the streamers of midnight brush my cheek as they settle back as long curtains untangling themselves from my harsh movements suspended between them. It is strange and painstriken how I found this outlet… but I embrace each moment that I blaze as dawn between the silks. 

( @daily-writing-challenge )

[nutsflyingsquirrel]

Voice over: Louise’s first home coming to this country was a semi-detached house in an affordable housing complex in East London. It was called “Icarus House” and she shared it with five strangers. She was amazed buildings have names of their own in England, like they're the title of some great novel or the name of a character in the story of your life. Icarus House was on British street and it was a shithole. But to her, it was everything. She was Louise of the Icarus house now. Just how stunned must they be back home, she thought, realising after she missed Sunday mass, that she was not sick at home, or vexed, she was gone. Louise had moved to London, like she always said she would. It didn't matter they had called her a liar and a coward. And maybe she really should thank them, Louise thought. It upset her at first, but who’s to say what would have happened if she had not wanted to spite them so badly. She might not have gone. But that didn't matter anymore, because she did. She had left at dawn to catch the first ferry, carrying all she owned in a backpack. Walking up the village only road with her head high, she had said the names of her friends and foes out loud as she passed their nameless houses. This was her way to say, I see you and I'm leaving. The bus reached the bench at the end of the road at the same time she did, and Louise casually hopped on. Just like that, with the understated clank of the automatic doors closing in her back, Louise disappeared. Yet, laying down on the floor of her bedroom for her first night in London, that damn village was all Louise could think about.

[lostmidnightwriter]

Inktober - Day 21: Once Upon A Midnight

"The late, late lamented

For death can't be prevented

Nevermore tormented

The late, late lamented"

[thestrawberrygirly]

150 things to do when you're bored 🧸🍰🍓

make a journal and write down about your dreams.

try baking a cake.

draw sanrio characters.

learn choreo of the song 'war of hormones' by bts.

stream bts songs or your favorite band's songs.

clean your room.

play any cute mobile games like Purrfect Tale, Resonance of Ocean, Resortopia, Sumikkogurashi Farm, Rhythm Hive, HelloKittyWorld2 Sanrio Kawaii and more. (these are available on android)

plant some trees.

watch any ghibli studio movie.

declutter your phone.

watch some aesthetic japan vlogs.

read a book.

do some skincare.

make a playlist on spotify about the songs you would like to play if you owned a cute café.

write a book about your dream world.

do pilates.

try coquette aesthetic makeup.

start crocheting.

go for a bicycle ride.

have picnic with friends or alone.

watch youtube videos.

go stargazing.

try skateboarding.

go for a walk and observe the beautiful nature and then journal about it.

try cooking with your partner or friends

make a youtube channel.

start a side hustle.

start blogging.

read your favorite blogs.

listen a podcast.

write a song about your favorite person.

make music on bandlab.

write down goals you want to achieve.

learn new language.

re-organise your closet.

take a day off from social media.

take a nap.

organise your pinterest boards.

write a poem.

write a letter to yourself.

make a cute diy necklace.

invent a cute game to play with your friends.

learn to count in another language.

look through a cookbook and try something new.

water the plants.

pray.

try meditating for 5 minutes.

read my blogs :) <3

draw cute doodles.

make cute things out of air dry clay.

create cute diy stickers.

bake cookies in cute fun shapes.

build a blanket fort and read a book inside while eating snacks.

create a scrapbook of favorite memories.

paint rocks with colorful cute designs.

make cute bracelets for your bestfriend.

write a cute story about fairies.

make homemade popsicles with fruit juice.

watch the sunset or sunrise and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

go for a nature walk and collect interesting leaves or stones.

have a movie marathon with your favorite films.

have a fashion show with clothes from your closet.

design and decorate your own phone case.

create a memory jar filled with notes of happy moments.

design and paint your own ceramic plant pots.

learn about law of attraction.

do research about the history of something of your interest like 'how it was invented?', 'who started it?'.

create your own font.

play an old online game.

try a coloring app.

work on your wish list.

paint your nails.

take a bubble bath.

start a garden.

make your own short movie with your phone.

complete a puzzle.

write about the most beautiful dream you have ever saw.

organize your house.

make a smoothie.

put an appreciation message on a balloon and let it go.

complete a challenge like 30 day self care challenge, 30 day writing challenge and more.

visit a local art gallery.

watch a lecture or TED talk.

read a self-help book.

read a book on astronomy.

click aesthetic pictures of nature.

make your phone look aesthetic.

give your bedroom a makeover on ghibli studio aesthetic.

create a toothpick tower.

practice writing from your non dominate hand.

write about what a day in your dream life looks like.

take out your pet for a walk.

make something wearable for your pet.

learn about how to beat procrastination.

make a little plushie out of your old socks.

learn a new skill.

make a cute website in carrd.co.

write down 10 things you're grateful for.

sit by a river.

visit a local bakery.

walk around a lake.

scroll on pinterest about nature.

walk in the rain.

watch classic films.

watch fashion shows on youtube.

get a haircut.

drink water, take care of yourself <3

read some beauty tips.

watch ballet videos.

write a quote on moon.

say yes to everything for a day.

read some interesting articles.

watch your comfort movie.

write a fiction story.

make your own calendar.

have an indoor picnic with your partner.

write a list of things you will do with your bestie.

crochet something for your loved one or yourself.

learn graphic designing.

write 10 beautiful things about yourself.

make paper stars.

explore interesting websites.

explore your neighborhood.

make a yummy snack.

make hwachae.

try origami.

write a list of your favorite songs explaining why you love it.

watch run bts.

read some manga.

make strawberry cake.

watch conan gray's old vlogs <3

watch onegai my melody :D

design and launch a cute social media challenge to spread positivity and creativity online.

host a themed dinner party with your friends where everyone dresses up and brings a dish from a different culture.

have a spa day at home complete with homemade facemasks, bath bombs, and soothing music.

design a pretty jewellery.

draw your dream house.

try out guided meditation videos (you will find in youtube).

learn about a new culture.

make homemade jam.

do a random act of kindness.

research and plan a future trip.

try a new type of workout video.

research and practice self-defense techniques.

try a new type of creative writing (screenwriting, playwriting, etc.).

try a new type of DIY beauty product (lip balm, body scrub, etc.).

watch a documentary.

learn about constellations and stargaze.

practice calligraphy.

do a riddle.

[caramelcleopatraa]

iv. SUIT & TIE

word count : 1,400

x : hey y'all, its the owner of The Bank speaking! Finally got this shit finished, and I'm halfway into part 5 already 💋 Here are the playlists loves! I will actively be adding to these as the story progresses. We got ms. plot in the building as well xo

content : Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive

Playlists 💋 Spotify Apple Music

“Rommannn! Are you done yet baby?” A high pitched yell on the other side of the door startles you. Roman’s grip on you tightens and you give him a confused look. He plants a tender kiss on your cheek, leaving you a little bit flustered, and he smiles at your flustered expression. His hand pushes your head down on his shoulder and you take a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Just be patient, ok?” Roman says sternly. “But Baaeee! You’ve been in there too lon-” “I’m not finna tell you again. Wait,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. Annoyance was written all over his face. De’arra groans in defeat and the comfortable silence settles back into the atmosphere

‘Pleeaase! Please! Pleeaassee! Don’t let this turn into some drama…’

You let your nails drag across his chest. “Am i gon’ have to worry about her fucking up my shop?” 

“Nah, she all bark no bite,” Roman says, looking down at your hands. “She’s not that petty or jealous.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. ‘For him to be a ladies man, he should know how petty bitches are. ESPECIALLY when it comes to a man.’ “I hope so. I don’t wanna deal with yo’ loose ends,” You say, getting off of him and standing up to pick your bottoms off of the floor. 

“I got my shit together girl. I already told you i’m not fucking with her. She’s only around me cause her daddy likes my money.” ‘Money? Who’s her dad?’

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“The couples are finished.” Aahkilah yells at you from the otherside of the door. Both of you get dressed and clean up the dressing room. You were about to walk out of the room until Roman grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You were going to question why he pulled you away before his hands rose above your head. His hands firmly smooth down your hair and fixed some stray hairs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He handled you with such care and delicacy. You tell him thank you and he responds with a short hum.

 You open the door to greet your clients. Gio and Madison are working as cashiers, ringing both of them up for their suits and dresses. Jey and Jimmy are putting in their payments while Talia and Trinity are talking. “Girl come over here real quick!” You hear Talia yelling at you to come over. From the tone in her voice, you couldn’t tell what this conversation was going to be about. However, you wouldn’t be in the dark for much longer. “Wassup?”

“Girl you ain’t hear?” Trinity says looking at you with a confused face. You shrug your shoulders and replied, “I be busy. Enlighten me.” “There’s a new family trying to replace the Anoa’i family.” Talia crosses her arms and sits into her hip. The blank expression on your face says everything. The Anoa’i family has been managing Florida for decades. To challenge them would be like walking straight into a turf war. Apparently, someone wanted that war. “They’re offering hella bank tryna take their spot too. I wonder if that shit’s fake… or a bluff maybe.” 

“They’ll take that offer back when they realize who they’re messing with,” You mutter to your friends.  Even your family didn’t dare challenge them, because they’re smart enough to know it’ll go every other way but good. Your family, the Semele’s and the Anoa’i family have always been on good terms. The Semele’s don’t own turf however, they are known for having access to a lot of things most mafia’s don't. Your family is known for being suppliers of information, stolen goods, weapons, you name it. So if Reigns is being threatened, that means you could be in trouble too, since everyone knows these two families are tightly tied together. A power duo, if you will. 

“You’re not worried about this?” Trinity’s face is laced with concern for you. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes. “This could just be a scare tactic, and those don’t work on me,” You said confidently as you gave them a reassuring smile. 

“That’s not something for a pretty lady to worry about. I’ll handle it,” Roman says, looking straight into your eyes. Goddamnit, those eyes. Somehow they made you so flustered. His presence was enough on its own, but his stare was so damn powerful. You were ashamed that someone you had only met an hour ago was making you so giddy and out of character. The tension between you two was thick, and everyone was starting to see it. “You gon’ let me handle it?”

“Well you're not gonna let me handle it?”

“It’s not your problem,” Roman says sternly, deading the conversation then and there. You walk closer to the cashier desk to talk to him directly. “Is this your way of caring for me?” Roman smirks at your comment. “When I said I'd take care of you, I wasn't just talking about that pussy.” Gio and Madison’s jaws drop at his comment. You could see them looking at you through the corner of your eye and you knew you would have to explain what he meant by that. You couldn't hide the smile forming on your face. “You like that?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was smiling. You could hear it all in his tone. “Boy, I’m not playing with you,” you say, walking away, still wearing an existing smile. Roman laughs to himself and hands Gio a stack of cash.

“Neither am I.”

You finished another successful busy day. A shit load of fittings and pickups. Roman had someone pick up all of their suits and dresses, which completed all of your custom orders for the day. Finally, a chance to get off of your feet.

“Ummm what the hell was that this morning?” ‘Ahh shit’. You internally roll your eyes. Eventually, they were gonna bring it up to you. Maybe trying to play dumb was not the best decision on your part.

“What was what?” You innocently bat your eyes at the two ladies. “The smile off you had with your private client. Don’t tell me something went down after I dropped off your drink,” Madison says, sitting down in the swivel chair next to you. You almost muttered a snarky comeback when you were hit with flashbacks from this morning. How he spoke to you and how he touched you kept replaying in your mind. A pool between your legs was forming just from the thought of him. 

“Oh he definitely put it down.” You are quick to defend yourself just as Gio says, “You’re over here in lala land! And at your job too!” Gio acts shocked and puts her hand over her heart and lets out an exaggerated gasp. You hit her in the side and shy away from their investigating eyes. The deafening silence was telling the truth for you. 

“Well we didn’t fuck.. But he did eat my pussy,” you shyly said, still looking away from them. You didn’t have to look at them to know that their mouths were wide open again. What you didn’t know was those open mouths turned into wide smiles. “Ok! Ms. CEO gettin some head! Was it good?”

‘WAS IT GOOD? GOOD’S AN INSULT’ “Um…” 

Before you finished your sentence, Madison interjects with, “Musta been, you looked like you were in a good mood today too. Especially after Roman’s fitting” You regrettably looked back in their direction and saw Madison wiggling her eyebrows. You lightly shove her away from you and stand up. “No, the fitting went well with no complications. That's what I was happy about.” You attempt to defend yourself, but you should’ve known that it was falling on deaf ears. Madison and Gio help you close down and lock up the shop. Of course, Madison had to tell you her two cents before going your separate ways. 

“Look at you smilin-”

“Shut up.”

Welcome to your new addiction

Hi guys, back with part 4 and the playlist that you guys wanted. As always comment and tell me what you think <3

🏷️ tags :) @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

[sameschmidtdiffname]

And now, for some shit ain't nobody asked for... *drumroll please...*

Fanboy Futturman Headcanons That Hardly Make Sense Unless You're Deranged

(because it's fun)

Tags: just rawdog it bruh, idk what this is. I got fucken murmed.

Notes: Special thanks to @luverstream for going insane with me. This list is based off of our oddly specific thread. Love you pookers <3

                        °☆>》¤●¤《<☆°

• 100% started writing fanfiction for 'Biotic Wars' because there was only two works in the whole fandom and they were both illiterate/ooc

• It started as a challenge because he likes writing as a hobby so he made a random account on Tumblr and wrote a one-shot from Tigers POV just for shits and giggles

• He didn't expect literally anyone to read it, maybe a couple notes

• Then around his lunch break the next day his phone won't. Stop. Dinging.

• Long story short, he ends up with an account with like. 1.1k followers

• Once he realizes he has a serious reader base, he takes his blog seriously

• He spends a weird amount of time perfectly curating his blogs aesthetic with mods and whatever extentions he can find

• Personally commissions other fans for his fanfic borders, proper gifs, etc. He has one fanfic actually illustrated for Kinktober and it stays at the top of the 'Biotic War' tags for months

• Speaking of Kinktober, literally will not make plans for October/late September because he knows he's gonna aim to post everyday

• Will stay up for days writing when he gets hyperfixated

• Hates posting short fics. If the number doesn't end with a .k he doesn't post it until it does

• Also has a bunch of Easter eggs from his favorite movies and such in his works as well

• Knows an insane amount of copywrite laws because he's had to deal with people illegally selling his works/uploading them on other platforms

• When he eventually gets a partner he initially lies and says he wanted to become a lawyer when he was a kid, thus why he knows so much

• That works for about 12 minutes before he finally breaks down and tells them the truth, then offers to show them his work because he's told literally no one in his personal life about it

• His partner eventually becomes his editor and co-author on certain works (mainly smut)

• Half the time when he's actively working on smut he's gotta stop midway to "test the accuracy" w/ said partner

• Writes OUTRAGEOUS smut that makes him unable to look in the mirror while he's writing it

• Deadass hides under his blankets in total darkness with tape over his computers camera because of the shame

• Has a collection of proofreaders/consultants because his first smut included cervix penetration and he got dragged by basically everyone on Tumblr for it

• Had a work get popular enough one time one of his friends sent it to him because they figured he'd get a kick out of it

• Which made him panic and stop writing for like a month to lay low

• Has a completely different Spotify account for writing because his mom uses his "normal" account even though he has a family plan (side note: they make little playlists for each other :))

• Has like 50 different playlists dedicated to his fics that's available for his readers to listen to

• The artists all range from Deftones to dodie depending on the work

• His top artist is Ayesha Erotica with 2000+ minutes spent on 'Yummy'

• (Also has an impossible amount of hours logged on said Spotify account)

• Has a whole panic attack when he leaves his phone in the 60s because he had a whole new chapter ready to publish in his 20 part hurt/no comfort/slowburn fic that was over 10.k words in his notes app

• Wolf finds his Ao3 account one time and becomes... concerningly obsessed with Futturmans work without realizing Futturman is the author

• It gets to the point Wolf will legit go on 30+ minute rants about the stories while Futturman is just hyperventilating in the corner because he doesn't know how long he can keep up the facade

• It gets worse when Wolf makes an account and starts actually commenting on the works

• However he ends up getting impressive tips from the rants and ends up incorporating his suggestions into his works

• Wolf never stops bragging about this

• His most popular work/series follows a female oc that originally started as a one-shot request for a oc x Wolf fic (which Wolf hates because he says it's OoC. Futturman does not agree nor care.) But ended up getting popular enough there's well over 20 parts

• At some point he, Wolf and Tiger get into a massive argument because he finds a bound copy of all of his works amongst their supplies and no one will confess who's it is and keep blaming each other

• (It's Tigers)

• When he gets to his final timeline he manages to get his all of his drafts back through Susan (who had a lot of questions, and was given no answers) and just publishes his work as an original series since Biotic Wars no longer exists

• "Orginial series" gets insanely popular and now he has like five burner accounts so he can read fanfiction of his own fanfiction

• Writes fanfiction for his own series purposely to fuck with the fanbase

• Usually will make it ooc but well written, but once in awhile comes up with a "headcanon" that will come true in his next book so he can watch the readers implode

• And last but not least

• He casts his other self in the final timeline as the male lead in the eventual movie adaptation. Because of course he would

(Bonus: in the OG timeline when Futturman ends up disappearing, his biggest series ends up never being finished, nor his blog updated. Leading to a weirdly thorough four hour video docuseries made by Wendigoon about the rise and disappearance of the mysterious author and how the 'Biotic Wars' fandom eventually finished the fic themselves and created their own spinoffs, leading the work to get more popular than 'Biotic Wars' ever was and like five different people falsely claiming they wrote it, only to be disproven within an insanely short amount of time. Yeah, kinda a full on My Immortal.)

                           >¤》○《¤<

Don't ask me what this was, I think I got possessed. Anyways, bon achoo sweet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[indigosunsetao3]

Indigo's Masterlist

If you enjoy my work please follow, reblog and/or comment! I like interacting with you all! It also helps other people find my work.💙

Please note that this is an 18+ space. Minors do not interact. This is for your safety and mine. I will block ageless and blank blogs as I see them. You have been warned.

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Soap X Ghost Completed One Shot - 2.9k Words

A Bouquet of Oleander

Alejandro Vargas X Reader From GlitteryPirateDuck "Amor a Alejandro" prompt challenge Completed One Shot - 2k words

Body Heat

Ghost X Reader From GlitteryPirateDuck "#GhostChallenge" Completed One Shot - 2.8k words

Best Laid Plans

141 X Reader From GlitteryPirateDuck #CoDVacationMode Ongoing - 4.3k Words

Watch List

Alex Keller X Reader Completed One Shot - 474

His New God

Soap X Reader Completed One Shot - 2,515

50 Word Challenge from deadbranch

Alex - Zombie AU Soap - Distraction for a rescue

Random Drabbles

Alex x Reader - Alex surveilles you Poly 141 X Reader - Corporate office Soap X Reader X Ghost - Rooftop voyeurism Alex X Reader - Airport pickup Price X Reader - Mission during a blackout Gaz X Reader - Gaz is a smoker

GIF Challenge

Sun & Water - Gaz x Reader Short & Sweet - 141 x Reader Come Home - Soap x Reader Other Woman - Price x Reader Car Ride - Price X Reader

Nameless Challenge from The-Californicationist

Homecoming - Reader X Mystery 141 Guy Linen & Lace - Reader X Mystery 141 Guy

COD Men In Different Scenarios

Naptime

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

A Few Minutes Before You're Missed

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Sick Day

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Protecting You

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Possessive

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

First date

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Body Paint

Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Requests

COD Men Reacting To You Calling Them Husband

Requested by @/ahopelesspedantic Featuring: Alex Keller, Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Soap Shares Your Video

Requested by Anonymous Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Expanding on section of "you have a few minutes before you're missed" Featuring: Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

What Lies Beneath

Requested by Anonymous Featuring: Gaz, Price, Soap & Ghost

Lightning Strikes Twice

Requested by @/haurasha Featuring: Gaz & Soap

Other

My other fictional crushes

Writing Inspiration for Keeping Lines Blurry

Six Month Mark on AO3

Keeping Lines Blurry Fanart Part 1 & Part 2- by @ahopelesspedantic

Spotify Writing Playlist

Current WIPs

I do not consent to:

Translations (if you ask, we can talk). Posting my stuff elsewhere without proper links. Screenshotting pictures/printing my writing if it’s not for your personal reading. My work being put into AI.

If anyone sees my work elsewhere (without links) and it’s not posted under my name please let me know. Do not steal my work. Any of the above, or variations of the above, is stealing.

Please share direct links to my work if you want to pass it along!!! I am totally fine with that. Stealing is a whole other issue.

Top divider is mine, rest belong to @/gild-ui

[harrowscore]

to take your mind of the foreboding WH movie adaptation disaster: Are there actually some non-English gothic titles you would like to recommend?

ohhhhh, what a good ask!

now, i'm actually not that well-versed in the gothic genre as i'd like to be, and if anyone has more recs they're welcome to add them to my list. but still, let's begin with:

gaston leroux, le fantôme de l'opéra (+ andrew lloyd webber's musical - which is hugely popular, as it should be! - and i'd also recommend the 1925 silent movie with lon chaney. it's probably the most faithful film adaptation of poto... too bad for that ending tho. there's also a prequel/retelling book by susan kay called phantom, which is very good - but not flawless - except i heavily dislike christine's characterization in this one; you can always read until the counterpoint section and call it a day)

victor hugo, notre dame de paris + the musical adaptation by riccardo cocciante. it's in french, but i also enthusiastically rec the italian version - you can find both of them on yt!

so, besides these two super famous classics, there's the poem the demon by mikhail yuryevich lermontov. you can find an opera rendition of it by anton rubinstein.

speaking of opera, béla bartók's bluebeard's castle - aka a gorgeous adaptation of the fairy tale by the same name. this version is particularly excellent, and there are also a lot of good album recordings on spotify. musically-wise, tho, it's maybe not easily accessible to people who aren't already familiar with opera...?

charles gounod's faust (again, an opera!) and various non-english versions of the story, like goethe's. by goethe there's also the poem der erlkönig. here a beautiful musical rendition by franz schubert.

panna a netvor aka "the maiden and the monster", my favorite beauty&thebeast movie adaptation. it's a 1978 czechoslovak film, you can find it here on yt with eng subs. and idk if i would say it's gothic but there's also the jean cocteau 1946 film + another french one filmed in 2014 starring léa seydoux and vincent cassel.

fyodor dostoevesky, the double

carlos ruiz zafon, the shadow of the wind (which i enjoyed, but i wasn't personally crazy about, though)

it's not gothic - it's magical realism, actually - but fans of the genre would possibly like gabriel garcia marquez's one hundred years of solitude for its themes

again, not gothic (i've seen it labeled as "dark academia" but. for some people anything is ~dark academia, including dostoevesky and the picture of dorian gray, for some unfathomable reason), but i'd rec vita nostra + its sequel, assassin of reality, by ukrainian authors marina and sergey dyachenko. there's an english translation and an italian one for my mutualiani, plus a third and final book coming out in, maybe, 2025.

the cabinet of dr. caligari + the man who laughs starring conrad veidt (😳😍) - the latter is an adaptation of the victor hugo's novel by the same name

for other movie recs, the original nosferatu + dario argento's suspiria (which has also a more recent remake by luca guadagnino of challengers fame)

fosca by igino ugo tarchetti. didn't read the novel, but i watched the musical adaptation by stephen sondheim, passion, here (and that's in english). again, idt if it's gothic or even gothic-adjacent but fosca's character has been compared and contrasted as a female version of the phantom of the opera by musical theatre fans, so. here it is.

now, for things i didn't personally watch/read so i can't vouch for them, but they seem all well-written/made nonetheless and belong to my unending list(s) of books to read/films to watch:

vampire hunter d. (anime)

john ajvide lindqvist, let the right one in (novel + movie adaptation)

marina enriquez, our share of the night + things we lost in fire (novel + short stories collection)

(mind you that these recs conflate a lot with the horror department. but i still think they could be interesting for gothic fans)

two book series that are written by english authors but i think they deserve more attention:

mervyn peake, gormenghast

jonathan l. howard, johannes cabal (which contains huge references to faust, dracula, and works by poe and lovecraft. the protagonist has also become one of my favorite characters of all time, i've fallen in love with him at first... page, i guess lol)

and that's it! again, if anyone has any other good rec, please feel free to add them!

[givemearmstopraywith]

Joan of Arc study

Last year, I led a small digitial “retreat/study” on Joan of Arc via my Kofi- while my Kofi is no longer running (difficult to keep on top of because of other work obligations), I thought that in honour of her feast day I would make it publicly available. All of the text and resources used are under the cut- you can do this at your own pace, with one topic per week, or any other way you like. It’s to generate personal reflection on gender and one’s relationship to God, and is designed to be completely non-denomination, meaning that while it does use Bible readings, even if you are not a Catholic or a Christian, it should be able to stimulate some thought and reflection without having a definite religious slant. 

The topics covered are:

Joan the Warrior 

Joan the Androgyne 

Joan the Prophet and Mystic 

Joan the Disciple 

Below the cut you’ll find all of the readings and bonus content for each topic, and at the end are “notes,” a short informal essay consolidating what I’m hoping to share through this study. But I highly encourage you to do your own reflection, be it through journalling, prayer, mediation, or whatever form of self-reflection suits you best, and try to decide what the readings- and Joan herself- says to you.

Ultimately, I hope what you’ll discover through this "retreat" is that our gender identity makes us warriors, prophets, mystics, and disciples- that existing between the binaries imposed on us by patriarchy allows us to draw closer to the strange and wonderful place where God exists. 

WEEK 1: Exploring God and Gender with Joan of Arc- Joan the Warrior (readings)

This study pre-supposes that you already have some background on Jehanne and her life- nothing too in-depth, and we'll get into some of the finer points of her life that aren't as popularly known throughout this study. If you'd like more information, I highly recommend Helen Castor's biography and Regine Pernoud's Joan of Arc By Herself and Her Witnesses. 

I've mentioned that this is a non-denominational study. What does this mean? Mainly it means that while scripture provides the backbone of a lot of our reading, I don't want us to treat scripture in a Christian context. Rather, I want to treat it primarily as a literary text, and rather than engaging with it as a "Bible study" or theological undertaking, I want to challenge us to read this without any preconceived notions of what it means in a religious context. Rather, read it the way you'd read a novel or short story. How does it make you feel? What themes, motifs, metaphors, allegories, or other literary techniques are employed? What is the text trying to say? 

Read: 

Judges 4-8: Deborah, Jael, and Gideon

Christine di Pizan's Joan of Arc

excerpts from Jehanne's trial: Joan's Tools

(If you want to read all of Jehanne's trial transcripts, you can do so here- I'll be providing more excerpts over the upcoming weeks, but we won't be reading it in full, so I highly encourage you to read the full transcript on your own if you'd like.)

Consider: 

What tools does God give to Deborah and Gideon? Are those tools always weapons? Do they always require public acknowledgement, like Deborah’s tent peg? What tools has God given you? What similarities do you see between the Bible study and Joan? How does Christine di Pizan portray Jehanne in her poem? Is there a similarity between di Pizan's portrayal and the portrayal of the Biblical judges? 

Extras:

have a listen of Veni Creator Spiritus- this Latin chant was said to have been sung before every battle by the French army when Jehanne arrived at Orléans on 29 April 1429, legend has it that a choir of priests went before her signing this hymn. 

shameless self-plug of my own but much beloved Joan of Arc Spotify playlist 

WEEK 2: Exploring God and Gender with Joan of Arc- Joan the Androgyne (readings)

Read:

Judith 8-9

Marina Warner's Joan of Arc: The Image of Female Heroism, Chapter 7: Ideal Androgyne

excerpt's from Jehanne's trial: Jehanne and her gender presentation

Consider:

Last week we considered the tools God gave figures like Jehanne, Gideon, and Deborah. How does Jehanne's gender function as a tool? How does Jehanne view her relationship to gender based on her testimony? How does the idea of her as an androgyne, as opposed to a warrior woman or girl, change your idea of her as a historic figure? How does Jehanne's gender presentation compare to that of Judith?

Extras:

If you haven't seen it already, Carl Dreyer's 1928 masterpiece The Passion of Joan of Arc is available to watch for free on Internet Archive. It is a fascinating, moving, and exceptional portrayal of Jehanne's trial, arguably the best, and it's lead actress Renee Falconetti beautifully captures the idea of Jehanne as the androgyne.

WEEK 2: Exploring God and Gender with Joan of Arc- Joan the Prophet and Mystic

Read:

the Book of Jonah

“Joan of Arc and Female Mysticism” by Anne Llewellyn Barstow

Joan of Arc and her voices

Consider:

Does Jehanne know she is a mystic, a saint, a prophet? What relationship is there between Jehanne's gender and her prophecy? Is Jehanne a true mystic? Why or why not?

WEEK 4: Joan the Disciple

Read:

Luke 8

2 Clement- all if you wish, or just Chapter 12

skim the complete transcript of Jehanne's trial, paying attention to the final day (starting at page 358)

Consider:

Pay special attention to Luke 8: 16-19. How does this apply to Jehanne? More specifically, how does this apply to how she presents her gender. Much criticism in her trial is centered on how she does or does not properly conform to gender. How do these verses, and those in 2 Clement, apply to Jehanne and her treatment by the church?

Bonus:

Jehanne's letters, which are a fascinating look at her voice

Mark Twain's Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc is free to read

Notes:

On April 30, 1429, Joan of Arc- who styled herself Jehanne la Pucelle, or Jehanne the maid- arrived at the French city of Orléans to free it from English control. Orléans had been under siege since October of the previous year: it's commander and French army were exhausted and contemplating surrender.

Enter Jehanne. The story is famous: aged sixteen, she heard the voices of saints and angels commanding her to free France from the English, lift the siege of Orléans, and crown the Dauphin. Remarkably, she succeeded, before being condemned to the stake for heresy by the Church. Her feast day in 30 May.

In our study about Jehanne, we've read portions of Judges. Judges cover a period in Israelite history prior to the establishment of the monarchy of which the famous Davidic monarchy was part. This is a period which roughly corresponds to the historic period 1400–1000 B.C., just after the settlement of Canaan after the Egyptian diaspora, when the Hebrew settlers were living among foreign, polytheistic tribes like the Philistines, who are a major antagonist throughout the narrative. Judges is considered one of the oldest books in the Hebrew bible, with the Song of Deborah- Judges 5- being one of the oldest portions. It documents a tumultuous and frequently violently history marked by agronomic destruction of a society attempting to rebuild after four centuries of indentured servitude to a foreign power, and a struggle to maintain the monotheistic practices which developed in the wake of their diaspora- the Levitical priesthood which we now know as Judaism.

There's a similarity between this era of Israelite history and that which would have been experienced by Jehanne at the time of her call. Jehanne was born in 1412 a working-class peasant girl from Domrémy in the Lorraine region of France. This location was almost directly on the border between French-held lands and those which had been invaded by the English during the course of the Hundred Years' War, which had already been going on since 1337. She was around thirteen years old when she first heard what she described as "voices," in 1425; it was the year that war is first documented to have begun directly affecting her home region, with raids by English or English-back French mercenaries taking place near Domrémy in 1425 and 1428. In once incident the village's cattle were stolen, and in another the town was set on fire and crops destroyed. It isn't difficult to see a similarity between what Jehanne may have felt about her circumstances and that of Gideon:

Gideon answered him, “But sir, if the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us? (Judges 6:13)

In the midst of this, Jehanne experienced her first vision- in her father's garden, a voice she identified as Saint Michael the Archangel (a high-ranking angel figure known as the protector of the Jewish nation and later of Christians).

By 1428, Jehanne had apparently begun to formulate what she was being asked to do by her voices, whom she had by then identified as Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret- two early Christian martyrs- in addition to Saint Michael. After being accused of breaking an engagement (a case dismissed by the ecclesiastical court at Tours, but which rather darkly foreshadows the way in which her later trial and execution would inherently punish a wayward "woman"), she became convinced that her voices were telling her to leave Domrémy to aid the Dauphin. It was a remarkable undertaking for a sixteen-year-old peasant girl, illiterate, who had never left her home village. By February of 1428, she had convinced a local nobleman to support her and conduct her to the Dauphin's seat at Chinon. It was at this time that she began to wear men's clothing- an outfit which was provided to her by the local townspeople, and rather famously consisted of a pair of breeches which tied to her jerkin, a costume which made her almost- but not entirely- invulnerable to rape. Like Deborah and Jael, she was endangering herself by entering a world that was dominated by men, and her choice of clothing is evidence of this.

And like the judges we have read about, Jehanne was called from her home village in a period of turmoil to perform what she saw as a sacred duty, something which God had commanded her to do. Like Deborah, she was something of a prophet: she knew that she would see the Dauphin crowned king of France:

And she said, “I will surely go with you; nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Lord will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman.” (Judges 4:9)

And, like Gideon, she was a working-class farmer called on to lead an army.

He responded, “But sir, how can I deliver Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.” The Lord said to him, “But I will be with you, and you shall strike down the Midianites, every one of them.” (Judges 6:15-16)

I think these similarities are all the more important this week, as we face the destruction of reproductive rights under Roe vs. Wade and the ongoing victimization of victims of domestic violence. Too frequently Biblical womanhood is cited as an excuse to strip people who are not cishet men of their destiny- to relinquish them to a common denominator, a life of submission and servitude. But what Judges shows us is that God’s call does not discriminate between bodies or genders. A person’s place in the world is wherever God calls them to go. We are allowed to ask for God’s reassurance of his call, but we must remember that if God calls us, he trusts us. We must trust him, and trust ourselves as he justifies us. God’s purpose supersedes the binaries and restraints imposed on us by the world.

Too often we equate "warriorhood" with masculinity, dominance, and activeness. Among Christians the epitome of being a warrior is archetypically defined as avenging angels and violent crusaders, many of whom committed gross atrocities and whose actions characterize a far-right movement of alleged "God-fearing" men who believe in their divine right to power on account of their maleness. Gross and extreme conservatism characterizes much of the front-facing presence of Christianity, it is this fundamentalism which we now see strongly affects political process. But God does not pick warriors from the strongest of his believers. David was the youngest son of Jesse. Gideon too. Deborah and Jael were women. God's warriors are those who listen to him: their strength lies in their difference. Consider how you are a warrior- not how you can be one, but how you already are one. Your God-given difference is your destiny: what makes you strong and extraordinary. How does your difference make you a warrior?

Last summer, I took a course on understanding scripture through how it is depicted in art. One week was completely devoted to paintings of Judith and Deborah, and we were assigned to read portions of both Judges and Judith. Funnily enough, we all struggled to tell the difference between depictions of the two women. Unlike Judges, the book of Judith is considered deuterocanonical, and it is not included in the Protestant canon: this could be part of why paintings of Judith and Deborah are frequently confused. But you can always tell the difference between the two in a very simple way. If it’s a woman beheading a man, it’s Judith. If it’s a woman with a hammer, it’s Deborah.

Both depictions of these warrior-prophet-women are marked by the violence of the acts they carry out at God’s call. They are associated heavily with the weapons with which they carry those acts out. It’s a very different image of women than we often associate with Biblical womanhood. Biblical womanhood is frequently associated with attributes like mildness, compliance, domesticity, motherhood, and submission. Biblical and traditional womanhood have become synonymous and conservative. It is heavily binarized, and placed firmly below dominant patriarchal structures.

Yet this view of “Biblical womanhood” doesn’t really hold up to the women we have encountered in the Bible- and it doesn’t hold up with our understanding of Jehanne. A question I want us to ponder this week is what actually constitutes Biblical womanhood? It’s a question that’s going to follow us as we continue this month-long study. Jehanne was condemned to death on account of not being a “real” woman. She was fully equipped to carry out what God asked of her, but she was still condemned for not being the "right" kind of person for her gender presentation.

I would argue that part of her equipment was the fact that she was someone who existed between genders, neither male nor female. But Jehanne was also both male and female. We have words for this now- nonbinary, gender non-conforming, transgender, and many others- but I don't think they help us much when we try and understand the complexity of gender in a time when gender was binary. Yet Jehanne shows evidence that she understood her gender as being other. Her trial transcripts reveal that she attributed no real gender alignment to herself or her presentation: her clothes were chosen for practicality, and that was necessary to fulfill the destiny which she felt had been given her.

How does our gender and our gender presentation function as a tool for our god-given purpose? For many people gender presentation is a tool that helps them to feel more comfortable in their own bodies, to convey to the world who they are. It is a tool that can heal one's relationship to their gender. Our purpose, our fate for which we are given "tools" does not have to be as grand as saving France or the world: it can simply be something intended to save ourselves. Sometimes saving oneself is the greatest mission God gave us- something we are given through his deep love for us.

[nanowrimo]

10 Tips for Fast-Drafting

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Freewrite, a 2023 NaNo sponsor, is a dedicated distraction-free drafting device designed just for writers. Today, author Ashley Poston and the Freewrite team share some tips for completing a first draft of your novel quickly:

Hello from the Freewrite team! 👋 Here at Freewrite, we love a NaNoWriMo challenge, because we’re all about getting words on the page. We asked Author & Freewrite Ambassador Ashley Poston to share her best tips for fast-drafting and getting that first draft DONE!

No surprise, one of her secrets is her Freewrite. But what else does Ashley do to get those drafts done fast?

Here’s Ashley:

I have a confession to make: I hate drafting. It’s the bane of my existence. If I could reach into my brain and take out my story, fully-formed, and just work on the editing bit? I’d do it.

But, alas, that’s not how writing works. (Which is a real pity because I really do love editing. The way you go in with a fine-tooth comb and just torch the entire novel, then rewrite it for the third time. It’s truly majestic.)

Though after ten years, I’ve yet to figure out a way to pull a novel, fully-formed, out of my ears. So, instead, I like making the part of drafting as painless as possible… by doing the most painful, maddening, infuriating thing imaginable.

In other words: fast-drafting.

I’ve perfected the art. I can write a book in a week if I have enough caffeine and a death wish, and with these ten tips, so can you.

1. Find your characters.

Truly, the most important part of fast-drafting is knowing your characters from the outset. In a first draft, you usually find your characters in the middle of the second-to-last chapter. (Or is that just me?) So it often helps to know your characters inside and out from the start. Not only that, but know how they’d react in certain situations, know what would be on their Spotify playlist, know whether they’d have a repertoire of Your Mom jokes up their sleeve. How do they take their coffee? If faced with ten seconds to live, who would they call? Most of these questions you’ll never answer in the manuscript itself, but it’s important to know these people in your head on an intimate level.

2. Use your time(r) wisely.

Setting a timer can be a great way to increase your writing speed. Start with a short amount of time—maybe 15 minutes—and write like the wind, Bullseye! Then shake yourself out, set that timer to 15 again, and repeat. (This is SO easy on my Freewrite Traveler, because it has a feature that keeps time for you, making 15-minute sprints easy-peasy.)

3. Outline.

In addition to your characters, you really should get to know your plot, too, and a great way to do that is making an outline! There are a bunch of different tips and tricks to outlining—I personally use Susan Dennard’s 1-page Synopsis whenever I need to hash out a plot, and Rachel Aaron’s 2k to 10k Blogpost from Ye Olde 2011.

4. No distractions!

Writing is already hard enough, but it becomes almost impossible when you have a cat pronking on you every chance they get. Sometimes, life can just be that—distracting—and you can’t do anything about it. But minimize distractions wherever you can, especially if you’re sprinting. Turn off your phone! Disconnect the internet! And here is where I tell you my Freewrite has saved my butt countless times. I’m horrid at the whole “cut distractions!” bit, but with Freewrite, it’s easy as pie. It’s a lot like a typewriter, so internet? Never heard of her. iMessages? iThinkNot. It’s just you, your words, and the mounting existential dread of existence.  

5. Compression gloves. (No, seriously, especially if you write every day.)

This is gonna sound like one of those weird ones—and that’s because it is. But if you’re planning on writing every day for at least an hour, please do yourself (and your budding carpel tunnel) a favor and get some compression gloves. Learn some hand exercises. We don’t call writing fast “sprinting” for nothing.

6. Don’t look back.

It’s so easy to get caught up in trying to perfect the prologue, but this can absolutely hinder you. Take it from someone who loves to make the first chapter perfect—you never will. I promise. Instead, focus on getting your ideas down on paper and worry about editing later. I promise that sentence you didn’t like will be there when you come back to it. It’s not going anywhere. This is another area where my Freewrite helps me focus.

7. Use prompts!

Sometimes, your brain gets stuck. If you feel stuck, or in a corner, use a writing prompt to get the creative juices flowing again! Maybe you’ll never use the scene, but that’s OK. If it means you get going again? That’s what matters. 

8. Stuck? Hit the bricks! Real winners quit. But like… not forever.

Writing can be mentally draining, so it’s important to not push yourself too hard, and to take breaks when you need it. Take a walk, stretch, dance it out to ABBA—whatever helps you recharge. And then when you come back to the scene, you’re refreshed and rearing to go.

9. Chunk it up.

Breaking up your writing into smaller, manageable chunks can make drafting so much less daunting. Instead of making the goal finishing the novel, just finish the chapter. Finish this scene. Sometimes, it helps if people set a goal for a certain amount of words a day, but I find that this often just leads to burnout a lot faster. Instead of a word count, set a goal for a scene instead. Turn off the word counter. A first draft doesn’t have to hit a certain number of words—it’s called a first draft for a reason.

10. Practice makes more practice.

Like anything else you do, writing takes practice. I know I can easily hit 5k a day, but that’s because I’ve been writing professionally for a decade now. If you’re just starting out, don’t compare yourself to anyone else. (In fact, this is a great rule of thumb regardless.) Everyone writes differently, and everyone writes in their own time. No one ever asked Van Gogh how long it took him to paint sunflowers, did they? No one told Monet he was taking too long on his water lilies. Writing is an art, so let yourself enjoy it.

I hope this helps you, at least a little, write your next sexy dragon-shifter book! (Or whatever you’re working on.) Godspeed, and just remember: only you can write the idea in your head. Different writers can be given the same exact prompt, and every single story will turn out differently. Keep your eyes on your own paper, your heart full of joy, and chase that story only you can tell.

It’ll be worth it, I promise.

—Ashley

Reminder: Camp NaNoWriMo 2023 participants are eligible for a special Freewrite offer. Find all the details here. 

Ashley Poston is the New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of The Dead Romantics. After graduating from the University of South Carolina with a bachelor’s in English, she spent the last decade working in the publishing industry before deciding to pursue writing full-time. When not writing, she likes trying various arts and crafts (she’s currently addicted to building miniature rooms) and taking long walks as an excuse to listen to Dungeons & Dragons podcasts. She bides her time between South Carolina and New York, and all the bookstores between.

Top photo by Djim Loic on Unsplash  

[catholickedd]

hello!!! um so i had an idea the other day. if you've read my pinned post you know that i'm an aspiring author, and i wanted to practice some short story writing just to get the hang of the setup-payoff cycles. so here's the idea i had - i'm going to write 94 short stories over the next couple of months. one inspired by each song on my spotify playlist. this is going to be the masterpost. here we go

amount completed: 3 of 94

wasteland, baby by hozier - here

autumn by wylder - here

velvet ring by big thief - here

thérèse by maya hawke -

sea, swallow me by cocteau twins -

paint by the paper kites -

sedona by sir chloe -

kyoto by phoebe bridgers -

strawberry blond by mitski -

bloom by the paper kites -

would that i by hozier -

swan upon leda by hozier -

in a week by hozier -

nfwmb by hozier -

fool by frankie cosmos -

evergreen by richy mitch & the coal miners -

candles by daughter -

september by sparky deathcap -

alrighty aphrodite by peach pit -

caroline by lowertown -

jaded by near tears -

poison tree by grouper -

haunt me (x 3) by teen suicide -

the way her hair falls by grouper -

the bug collector by haley heynderickx -

the perfect girl by mareux -

dark beach by pastel ghost -

faerie soiree by melanie martinez -

downtown by majical cloudz -

all your yeahs by beach house -

i don't know by whatever, dad -

gwan by rostam -

the loxian gate by enya -

ophelia by the lumineers -

eat your young (bekon's choral version) by hozier -

francesca by hozier -

no face by haley heynderickx -

rises the moon by liana flores -

washing machine heart by mitski -

all things end by hozier -

through me (the flood) by hozier -

nobody by hozier -

manta rays by chloe moriondo -

unknown / nth by hozier -

like real people do by hozier -

jackie and wilson by hozier -

from eden by hozier -

work song by hozier -

foreigner's god by hozier -

run by hozier -

shrike by hozier -

as it was by hozier -

sunlight by hozier -

dandelion wine by gregory alan isakov -

meet me in the woods by lord huron -

make your own kind of music by cass elliot -

where is my mind by pixies -

pool house by the backseat lovers -

mclean's baby boy by neighbor susan -

space song by beach house -

garden song by phoebe bridgers -

motion sickness by phoebe bridgers -

grandiose by pomme -

je sais pas danser by pomme -

better views by yellow house -

même robe qu'hier by pomme -

ghosting by mother mother -

lent by autoheart -

bron-yr-aur by led zeppelin -

adieu mon homme by pomme -

cause for concern by lovejoy -

willow by taylor swift -

feathered indians by tyler childers -

the last of the honeybees by sam burchfield -

de selby (part 2) by hozier -

the last thing on my mind by tom paxton -

the night we met by lord huron -

ends of the earth by lord huron -

the yawning grave by lord huron -

the moon doesn't mind by lord huron -

sex sells by lovejoy -

perfume by lovejoy -

maine by noah kahan -

white winter hymnal by fleet foxes -

anchor by novo amor -

pale blue eyes by the velvet underground -

i'll be your mirror by the velvet underground -

dinner and diatribes by hozier -

wildflower by beach house -

good old-fashioned lover boy by queen -

bright eyes by art garfunkel -

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Prologue

Song Inspo for this Fic: “Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift

Spotify Playlist: Here

THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO MY FIRST FIC - This story will make a lot more sense if you read Is It Over Now? first.

Chapter Warnings: Mystra

Prologue

“There’s no coming back from that for you. Not as my lover, and until you realize the absolute selfishness of your actions, not as my friend either”

Fallon’s words rang in Gale’s head his entire journey to Elysium. It would have been easy for the demi-god to just conjure a portal to take him there immediately, but Gale didn’t want to go back right away. Not back to The Outer Plane, not back to Elysium, and certainly not back to Mystra. He knew what awaited him upon his return. Mystra was very clear in her instructions: go back to the mortal realm, keep Fallon from making the mistake of falling in love with Astarion, then come back to Elysium with a renewed sense of adoration for the goddess of magic.

Nothing Mystra did was ever solely for Gale’s benefit; and thus far, his repeated experience was that the goddess looked out for her own interests alone. It was Mystra’s jealousy of Gale’s love for Fallon that brought on her ultimatum when Gale delivered the crown:

Accept her offer to become a demi-god, a god in training and live with her in Elysium as her chosen lover until he is ready for full godhood, or lose his connection to Mystra, The Weave, and magic entirely. It was an impossible choice and, in the moment, Gale did what he thought was the best possible outcome of the two. 

As it turned out, Gale chose poorly. For instead of becoming a god with the ability to give Fallon everything that he had promised her and more, he became trapped in Elysium, unable to contact the elven rogue, and it nearly killed her. Not only that, but it pushed her right into Astarion’s arms. 

“You chose your pride, and your ambition, and your goddess , and you left me here to fucking rot.” The words Fallon spat at him when the whole truth came out were made of purest venom, and when she’d put it the way she did, it made Gale feel even worse about his decision. 

That was the beginning of the end. 

When Fallon kicked him out and all but said she never wanted to see him again, Gale decided to take his time returning to Mystra. After all, he’d never given the goddess an exact timeframe on how long he would be gone, so there was no hurry. 

He went to Waterdeep. Fallon was not the only person Gale abandoned when choosing to seek the Crown of Karsus, he had abandoned his mother as well. In another life, Waterdeep would have been his first stop. In another life, Fallon would have been at his side as his fiancée. Gale knew for a fact that Tara kept in touch with Morena, but Gale knew his mother. Not hearing from her son in over two years was going to come at a great cost to Gale—  namely, that she would never let him forget it for as long as she lived. 

It was just another addition to the ever growing list of people Gale hurt when he made his choice, his true folly, that day on the docks after the Netherbrain was defeated. How different his life would be if he’d just listened to Fallon and simply returned the pieces of the crown to Mystra instead of challenging her. 

Gale spent more nights than he cared to admit crying to his mother and to Tara about all the mistakes he’d made, and how he didn’t know how to fix them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Gale knew that the moment he told Mystra he’d rather be human and free of her than a demi-god shackled to her for eternity that Mystra would take away his magic, his connection to The Weave and to her, with a snap of her fingers. Much like the early days of having the orb in his chest, Gale and Tara spent hours upon hours in his tower in Waterdeep, trying to find some sort of loophole, only to come up short. Most nights when Gale cried to Tara and his mother, it was because he already knew what he had to do. What he had to give up. 

Even before they were ever romantically involved, Fallon quickly became one of his closest friends. Gale would even argue that Fallon was one of the first true friends he’d ever had period . Gale would eventually get over the fact that Fallon moved on romantically, but seeing the look of disappointment on her face and hearing the disgust in her voice when she renounced their friendship, too? It was too much, and he never wanted Fallon to look at him or speak to him that way ever again. 

Taking away his magic as a punishment for breaking up with Mystra felt almost unnecessarily cruel, even for the goddess; but after everything Gale had put others through in the last year, it was a punishment that, perhaps, to him at least, was very nearly, if not entirely, deserved. 

Knowing what was coming doesn’t make it easier, though. Returning to Elysium felt like a bad dream. Just as she had done when Gale came to deliver the crown, Mystra met him at the gates. 

She knew. 

“Gale of Waterdeep, you have finally returned to me.” She greets him with a fake saccharine smile. “Was your trip successful? Did you convince the elf not to be with the vampire?”

Her tone is haughty and condescending, and Gale frowned. “Why ask if you know the answer?” 

Mystra only smirked. 

Of course, Gale knew the answer to his own question as much as Mystra already knew the answer to hers. The goddess enjoyed being right, and she liked hearing it out loud. In the same vein, Mystra wasn’t just going to take away his connection to her and The Weave simply because she already knew what Gale was planning to do. No, she was most certainly going to make Gale say the words himself. 

“This did not go in your favor, and, once again, you have come back to me with the intention of not doing as I commanded,” Mystra dared him to deny it with a piercing look. “Is being my chosen, loving me, and being loved by me truly such a burden?”

“It is when everything you ask of me suits no one but yourself!” Gale exclaimed . “I dedicated my entire life to serving you, in more ways than one,  I might add, and it was never enough to be worthy. I am well aware that I’ve made many mistakes in my thirty-five years of living, enormous ones, but not a single one of those mistakes deserved punishment such as sacrificing myself 'for the greater good', or being told who I can and cannot love without suffering additional retribution! Nothing good has ever come to me by being your servant, and I’m embarrassed to say that it took me this long to realize it’s not worth it.”

Mystra stared at him in silence for several long, painfully long, moments. She knows this is the chance she will ever have to make him squirm, so Gale really shouldn’t have been surprised she made him wait. “Then what is it that you desire, Gale of Waterdeep? Tell me, and I will make it so.” 

This is it, the moment of truth. His final chance at making things right with the people he’d come to care for most, or with the goddess before him. “If being a god means being tethered to you for eternity, and living a life that none of my loved ones or I can be proud of, then I don’t want it. I’m done. With you, with being a god, with The Weave, all of it. I’d rather be plain old Gale Dekarios, loved by the people who matter to me , than the great Gale of Waterdeep, a false god used by you to be made an example of.”

Mystra exhaled sharply. “Very well.” 

It happened with a simple snap of her fingers. Within seconds, Gale felt different. Gone was the faint glow of divine light encompassing his body, gone was the sensation of being enveloped in The Weave’s embrace, that feeling of magic that always seemed to linger on his skin his whole life. All replaced by the same hollow sensation he had only felt once before, when he’d stood near Fallon in the Underdark while she had the flower from the Sussur tree in her pocket. 

Except now, the emptiness was permanent, and he knew it. Immediately, Gale started to panic. Time slowed down, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe properly. He felt the loss of The Weave and his magic in a grief so immense it could fill the sea from here to Velrea. Gale dropped to his knees in tears. What does he do now? How did he move on from here? 

The answer, it seemed, was something else Mystra had already planned for. A portal opened nearby, and she stepped through it. Seconds later, Gale was transported through space and time as Mystra dropped him on the plush rug in a familiar suite at a familiar tavern. He was disoriented at first, too lost in his grief to realize there were conversations happening or that someone was in front of him, pulling him close. That was when he heard Fallon’s voice. 

“What have you done to him, you wretched bitch ?!” Fallon screamed at his goddess. His former goddess. 

“I have not done anything Gale Dekarios has not asked for,” Mystra said coldly. “He knew the consequences should he chose to defy me, to turn his back on me, and yet, he chose you anyway. And so, I bring him to you, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate, for he is your problem now, in all his imperfect, entirely ordinary and human disgrace .” 

Mystra says nothing else before stepping back through her portal, and Gale vaguely registers the looks on Fallon and Astarion’s faces as shock.

“She– she took my magic. Fallon– it’s gone. I can’t feel The Weave anymore. Oh gods. It’s gone!” Gale cried, inconsolable. 

There was no other sound in the suite besides Gale’s own panicked sobs. “It’s gone.” he repeats, dejected and hopeless. 

Astarion heaved a heavy sigh. “Well,” Astarion said as he reached for Fallon’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I guess I’d better make sure we’ve got enough food for three, then.” There was no hesitancy in his voice and Fallon nodded in agreement: Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, mortal, non-magical, and human, is coming with them to Velrea, whether he liked it or not.

Chapter List

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

On the Shoreline

Hitsuhina Week: Day 6 - Something beautiful / Waves

Prompts: Waves, stars, vacation together

Rating: K/General but with mild themes

Setting: some time after the No Breaths From Hell oneshot

Synopsis: Upon Momo’s suggestion, Toshiro joins her and a group for a break at a seaside town. However, with his mind is heavy with recent revelations, he wonders why they are all there.

AN: Once again, I’m writing something for both @yearoftheotpevent's challenge and Hitsuhina Week.

This really started as one thing and completely transformed into something else! I was intending to do a short piece about Toshiro and Momo taking some time to relax at a beach, but nope, the angst had to get in there and not only make this fic longer, but change the whole story.

Do I think the Shinigami would actual do this after the events of the No Breaths From Hell one shot? Nope, but I wanted to try it out anyway.

In terms of music while listening I can recommend (in no particular order): Recollection 1-3 , World #07 Blues, going home, and compassion by Shiro Sagisu from the BLEACH osts, And She Translated into Sky by Levi Patel (Spotify or YT) , and Skel and Andra by Sigur Ros (Spotify or YT). If I had to recommend when to listen to these songs, I only three I feel strongly about are listening to And She Translated into Sky, Skel, and Andra in the last section of the fic, where Toshiro and Momo are walking on the beach ;)

Hope you all enjoy it!

__________________________________

Toshiro watches the heat sizzle on the horizon. Despite the sweat dripping down his temple, he doesn’t wave the uchiwa with any vigor. Eventually, he glares at the few clouds in the sky, all too far away to block the sun.

“Why did they have to pick a damn beach of all places?” he grumbles.

He tries to ignore the commotion going on inside, where everyone is trying to decide who is going to stay in which room. He should be in there, but it’ll only irritate him further, and for once it wouldn't just be from everyone’s usual antics and pointless arguing.

It had been a two months, but how can they all be acting like this after what happened?

He tilts his head down and waves his fan faster. He knows everyone has their ways of coping with things, but he'd have thought there would still be some discussion about what happened, even if it was only in passing. Why does it feel like he's the only one stuck on the revelations that came?

The door slides open and Rangiku pokes her head out, looking to the left, and then meeting his gaze when she swivels her head to the right. “There you are! What’re you doing out here?”

Toshiro pushes himself off the wall. “Are you all done in there?” he asks dryly.

“Yeah, everything is sorted.” She grins as if all the arguing hadn’t just occurred. “You know it’s cooler inside, right? When did you leave?”

“Doesn’t matter. Which room am I in?”

Rangiku huffs and steps out of the foyer, closing the door behind her. “I get that it’s hot, Captain, but you really need to relax.”

“I only came because they needed someone to supervise all of you.” That’s not entirely true, and she knows it. It had been Momo who invited him, Rangiku and Granny who encouraged him to accept, and Shunsui who had assigned him and Rukia with watching over everyone – all the while grinning and lamenting that it had been over a decade since Toshiro had a proper holiday in the World of the Living.

“It’s lucky we came at the very beginning of summer, there’s more rooms and not a whole lot of people on the beaches around here. You’ll be able to use Hyourinmaru to your heart’s content.”

“For all of you, you mean.”

“Oh, Captain, don’t be so cruel, I know you’ll use it more for yourself than anyone else!” He goes to rebut while she rummages through her short’s pocket, but he stops when pulls out a key and hands it to him. “Besides, I did a good thing for you! Like you requested, you’ll have a room to yourself with aircon.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“It’s between Madarame and Yumichika’s room and Abarai and Kuchiki’s rooms.”

He wilts. As if the heat isn't bad enough.

_________________________________

Walking into the First Division's main hall, he’s reminded of the days during and after the Quincy invasion. Most of the captains had arrived, but the usual chatter and carrying on is absent.

Iba, who stands closest to the entrance, is the only one who acknowledges his arrival. “Captain Hitsugaya,” he says with a nod.

Toshiro does the same in return as he walks past. "Iba"

Kensei, his arms folded tightly over his chest, leans against a wall next to Shinji, who’s gaze is off to the side, lost in thought. Sui Feng paces from one corner of the room to the other, each time passing Isane, who looks flatly at the ground. Lisa stands in another corner, reading one of her books, her face hidden from view.

Kenpachi, surprisingly on time for once, stands near the meeting hall’s closed doors, his back turned. As Toshiro approaches though, he shifts to look down at him. He grunts in greeting, and looks away. It’s somehow both like him and uncharacteristic of him to act in such a way.

Byakuya and Rukia both arrive, and the quiet discussion they’d been having before dies as soon as they enter the hall. Like him, they’re only greeted by Iba and try to find a place to stand. Byakuya glances at Toshiro and gives a nod. He returns the gesture, and watches as Byakuya and Rukia choose stand next to Isane, who barely manages a smile to Rukia. Both look like they want to say something, but neither speaks.

Toshiro chooses his place, standing near the meeting hall’s entrance but away from Kenpachi. He folds his arms into his sleeves and keeps his gaze on the main hall’s entrance.

The air is tense, and the silence quietly rings in Toshiro’s ears. It’s only broken when Rose and then Mayuri arrive.

The latter starts to speak – what he says Toshiro doesn’t pay attention to but it's enough to make Sui Feng stop and say somethign back to him. Their impending argument is interrupted when the meeting hall’s doors finally open.

Shunsui stands on the other side, his usual smile and casual air nowhere to be seen. Everyone files in and takes their place in the hall. Despite the solemnness of their movements, Toshiro can feel the urgency among them.

They need to discuss what happened. They need answers. How do they stop this? How many of their own had they sent to Hell over these centuries? When would their new enemy next strike? What can they do to defend themselves?

What if this conflict doesn't end like the others? What if they die? What is they have to face their own?

_________________________________

“Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Toshiro blinks out of his revere and lifts his head from his propped-up hand. Momo stands beside the table, smiling and holding a straw hat. He hadn’t even sensed her coming into the lobby.

When the small table fan propels back in his direction, sending a welcomed gust of cold air over his face, he remembers to speak. “Aren’t you going shopping with Matsumoto?”

“Yes, but you should come along too. We can grab some ice cream before we go.”

He scoffs. “Forget it.”

Momo puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, you haven’t left this inn once since we got here!”

“We’ve only been here for a day, dummy.”

“Even so! Don’t you want to see what it’s like around here? It’s been a long time since any of us have been to a new location in the World of the Living.” At his blank stare, she sighs and drops the hand holding her hat to her side while the other points to the left. “At least come out and get some ice cream then. There’s a stall down just down the street.” Then, with a rueful smile. “Besides, you know how long it can take Rangiku-san to get ready.”

He almost lets a chuckle out. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Even when not looking at her, he can sense Momo’s persistence. She’s always been stubborn, and he’ll never understand why it always came out whenever it involved getting him to go to places he's never been.

He exhales, making a sound between a groan and a sigh. “Fine.”

To his surprise, Momo doesn’t reach out and grab him to drag him outside and down the street. She puts her hat on, waits for him to stand and leads the way out, patient with his slower and sluggish movements. Before leaving the table, Toshiro grabs his uchiwa.

As soon as they step outside, he considers turning back. It’s hotter than this morning, and there isn’t a cloud in sight to cover the sun.

Momo senses his hesitation and gestures towards a stall a short distance away. “It’s just down there.”

Logically, he knows it’s less than a two minute walk to the stall, but did he really want to make the journey?

“I’m pretty sure they have a peppermint flavor.”

That doesn’t really sell him, but he’ll pretend it does. With more irritation than he intends, he grouses, “Let’s just go.”

Thankfully, Momo doesn’t take it personally and giggles. “You really like peppermint, huh?”

“It’s one of the few good flavors for ice cream.”

“Mango and strawberry are good too.”

He only grunts.

Their shoes clack against the pavement, and where possible they stick to the shade of trees and awnings of shops. Save for the few passing cars, the singing of the cicada, and the distant crashing waves, it’s quiet. There are only a few others outside, going about their daily lives.

He fans himself as they walk, but it doesn’t cool him down much. Heat radiates from pavement through to the soles of his shoes, and a sweat is building on his brow. The humans and Momo walk around as if nothing is wrong. How can they stand this heat?

The gust of warm wind certainly doesn’t help matters. It does, however, make him aware of Momo’s hat. On one side of the hat’s band, there’s a cluster of small flowers, coloured different shades of pink and cream, and two short cords a sparkling bead on each end sway to and fro across the brim. It looks like something she would personally pick out, she always had an inclination towards clothes with floral designs on them.

He had picked some of his clothes the week before the trip, but the rest were chosen by Rangiku. He always had an inclination towards darker colours – like the navy blue tank top and grey shorts he wears now - while she always seemed to find the right balance in brighter colours for him. For all of her faults when it came to going nuts on clothes shopping, she always knows what fashionable clothes to buy.

“The others want to go to the beach later,” Momo says. “Are you going to come along? Or is it too hot for you?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Is Kuchiki going?"

"Yes."

"Then I’ll stay back, she can supervise."

He almost goes back on his word at her saddened frown. “Well, it’s supposed to cooler tomorrow," she says. "You’ll come then, right?”

He can't say 'no'. “Sure.”

Once they’re at the stall, he relishes the chill emanating from the glass display and the cool wind of the fan whirling behind the counter. There’s not too many flavours to choose from, mostly just the popular ones.

Momo pouts. “Ah, it’s a shame they ran out of strawberry.”

He points to the mango flavour. “You could just get that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but I like to have two different flavous when I can. What do you think would go well with mango?”

Toshiro considers, perusing each flavour. Eventually, he points to the best one he can think of.

Momo snorts, her fingers pressing over lips in an attempt to suppress a giggle. She fails miserably at his incredulous look.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…Peach?”

“It’s sweet, so is the mango.”

“But…did you pick it because of that reason or because it reminds you of -- ?” She starts giggling again.

Why are his cheeks burning? No, this won’t do. He’d honestly picked it because he thought the two would work together. “As if I’d picked it for that reason! We’re not children anymore!”

Realising the commotion they’re causing, and sensing the growing queue behind them, Toshiro is quick to order his two scoops of peppermint ice cream in a cup and storms off to the side, waiting for Momo under the shadow of a table’s umbrella.

Trying to ignore the stares of a few of the humans, he takes the small plastic spoon and digs in. He’s pleasantly surprised; it’s one of the better ice creams he’s had, and it’s quite cold. Gradually, with each spoonful, it has the effect of both cooling him and his annoyance down.

Did she really think he chose peach because of her name? Did it remind her of when they were kids and he’d only remember to buy peaches when she was there? That hadn’t happened since they were very young.

Momo joins him almost a minute later, and they set off back to the inn. She takes a spoonful of each scoop, and he’s about to grumble about the fact she went for his suggestion in the end until she cringes.

Her whole face scrunches up and she makes a sounds between a yelp and a gasp. For a second, he fears she’s hurt. "Wha--?"

"It’s really cold!"

Now it’s his turn to hold in a chuckle. He too fails, and he doesn’t do anything to stop it, even as she complains.

“Oooh! You knew, didn’t you?”

 “Yeah,” he chortles.

“Just because you have a tolerance for the cold!”

“You’re being childish, Hinamori.”

“I could say the same for you, Shiro-chan. You could’ve warned me!”

“That’s ‘Captain Hitsugaya’, Hinamori.”

Feeling he got the last word in, he smirks and slowly eats his ice cream right in front of her. She half glares at him. It’s not long before she lets out a huff, and what little irritation she had leaves her. "It's not a big deal, I'll just have to take smaller bites, and at least it tastes good.”

They continue on the pavement. Despite her bravado before, she still hestiates when she scoops up smaller bits of ice cream and eats them. He smirks, but otherwise doesn't tease her like before.

For the first time since he got here, he feels himself easing a little, and he looks to the source. Momo always has this effect on him at certain moments, where it was just the two of them and no one would be interrupting them. Maybe it’s seeing her this relaxed and content, it makes him want to be the same. Even as they were at the stall and browsing the ice cream flavours, he didn’t feel the usual apprehension to interacting with the person behind the counter – an old habit from his day in Junrinan, he’d realized years ago – because she was there with him.

It's not enough to lighten his mind of the thoughts that weigh him down, but they don’t churn in his head like waves in a stormy sea. He could put into words what has been bothering him. He could tell her right now, and maybe he’d be lighter. Maybe she’d already know and understand, because maybe she is still thinking about these things too.

“Hinamori…” He trails off when she looks over her shoulder at him. Momo walks in front of him in bright and colourful clothes, nothing like the uniform she takes pride in. She cradles the cup of mango and peach ice cream that’s already starting to melt. Her cheeks are flushed – or sunburned, he dreads – and up until now she’d been smiling. The little flowers and cord on her hat flutter in the wind, small and strangely fragile.

He walks past her. “Forget about it.”

She quickly comes in front of him and asks, “What is it?”

It’s rare for her to prod. Had he detected a hint of desperation in her voice? Had she noticed something in him and had been wanting to ask? He wouldn’t put it past her, she and Rangiku both have that uncanny ability to sense when he’s off kilter even when he doesn’t show it.

But now is not the time to tell her.

“Just make sure Matsumoto doesn’t spend too much, she could end up using Division funds.”

He maintains a stoic exterior in the face of her small, unconvincing smile. “Of course.”

_________________________________

A stick of incense had already been lit; someone else had visited Jushiro's gave before him. It won’t be long before it’s completely burnt out.

Toshiro makes his prays while the incense still burns, putting his hands together, closing his eyes, and bowing his head.

But what can he say? No words or sentiments come to mind. Not even hopes or wishes.

He does, however, recall a few memories of Jushiro. The first of when he first met the older captain; his long, white hair was tied back and he looked less pale than when Toshiro last saw him. He remembers the bags under his eyes getting progressively more prominent, and his absence from meetings becoming more frequent. At some point, the hair tie disappeared. His smile and optimism though, that only vanished in dire situations, but they always returned with as much mirth and sincerity as soon as the problem has been resolved.

How sharply those two things stood in contrast to what had transpired at this very spot.

Toshiro recalls with a repressed shiver the Jigoku no Rinki that had floated in the air around the grave just a week ago. A sign that the balance had been tipped, that Hell held enough power to break the peace. And they gave them that power. It was the price they all paid for becoming as strong as they did. This was the price they paid for allowing Aizen to grow as powerful as he did, and for imprisoning him when he was one of the beings keeping the balance from tipping. The irony sickens him.

He opens his eyes. Why is he here? Could Jushiro even hear prayers from where he is?

To think Souls like Jushiro are ending up there, fighting against all of it’s creatures and victims. He had no way of warning them of what they’ve been doing all of these centuries. What had he endured?

He can't keep the other possibility from turning over in his mind, and it makes his stomach churn. What if he isn't fighting against the creatures of Hell, but had become one of them?

Ichigo had told the captains what he'd seen who he'd fought against. Amongst his recollections was Sogyo no Kotowari, but the description he gave was not like the bankai Toshiro knew. It sounded warped and elongated to the point of being unnatural. He’s certain Hell had altered the former captain in more than just his bankai. How much has his appearance changed? Would he recognize Jushiro if saw him?

And not for the first time, Toshiro wonders if he will have to cross blades with him.

_________________________________

“Goodnight, sir,” Rangiku says while leaning on Momo and Hisagi. “Call if you need anything.”

Toshiro, his back turned to her, rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “We’re back at the inn, Matsumoto. Why would I need to call you?”

Rangiku giggles. “I didn’t mean on the phone!”

Momo laughs nervously. “But then he’d wake up everyone else, Rangiku-san.”

Rangiku considers for a moment, her head swaying from one side to the other. “…Oh yeah.”

“You sure drank a lot, huh?” Hisagi says.

“Hey, you drank too!” Rangiku retorts.

He chuckles. “Yeah, but not as much as you!”

Even in the dark, Toshiro can see the flush in his lieutenant and the Ninth Division's cheeks. He knows for Rangiku it's the sake, but for Hisagi it's a guess between the alcohol or from being that close to Rangiku.

Why am I even paying attention to this? Toshiro wonders.

Mercifully, they reach Momo and Rangiku’s room.

“Thank you again for paying for dinner, Captain Hitsugaya,” Hisagi says with a bow of his head.

Momo smiles at Toshiro. “Yes, thank you Hitsu – Captain Hitsugaya.” She waves her free hand. “Goodnight, and sleep well.”

Toshiro gives her a half-hearted wave back and half turns away.

Hisagi opens their door and helps Momo get Rangiku into the room as she groans about having drank too much. He comes out a few seconds later, closing the door behind him and walking into the room just opposite.

Toshiro remains in the hallway after Hisagi shuts his door. Save for a few shuffles in Momo and Rangiku’s room, the faint snoring from Ikkaku and Yumichika’s room down the hall, and the waves crashing in the distance, it’s dead quiet.

He should go to bed, but goes back the way he came, coming down to the ground floor and then out into the back courtyard. There are tables and chairs scattered throughout, some with umbrellas and others not. Beyond them, a railing lines a wooden deck that extends out to give a view of the main beach in the distance. Beneath him, only the streetlights, outdoor lanterns, and neon signs of bars, restaurants, and a convenience store illuminate the town.

He goes to the railing and rests his forearms along the top. The moon is a crescent, and he can still make out the tide crashing and receding. For the first time since he got here, it’s quiet. He’d longed for a moment like this, by himself and in cooler conditions. He thought it would be what he needed, but as he looks out over the town, it doesn’t take long for his mind to wonder. None of the humans here - or anywhere for that matter - truly know what is happening. If they did, how would they react?

His mind recalls the few times he was sent on a mission to the World of the Living, believing he was saving their world and keeping the balance. His subordinates would've felt the same, he imagines. Are they working on the reports he and Rangiku left behind right now? Are the captains and lieutenants still working to try and find out more about Hell? What if Hell is planning an attack? What if he -- ?

He shakes his head, then lets it fall to rest on his arms.

He pivots his mind to what had happened just a few hours ago. With the exception of Rukia and Ichika, they’d all gone to a shokudo for dinner. Rangiku had gotten started early on the sake, encouraging Hisagi, Ikkaku, and Renji to join her. It didn’t take long for the four of them to be carrying on, quibbling one minute then laughing together the next. He sat next to Rindou, who signed to him and the others about the food and what he had done today at the beach and in the town. Opposite them, Momo sat between Nanao and Kiyone, but every now and then she would glance in his direction. When he caught her, she’d either smile and return her focus to either Nanao or Kiyone, or she’d ask him something: ‘What did you order to drink?’, ‘How’s your dinner?’, and ‘Do you need extra ice?’.

It was a light-hearted atmosphere, but far removed from how he felt. Again, he wonders how they can act like this after everything they’d seen and heard. he almost had the urge to scream at them. Why weren't they discussing what they'd learnt? Why weren't they back at the Soul Society doing something about this?

But more than that, as he’d stared into his dinner, and as he glares at his feet now, he wonders why he can’t be like them. He can carry on professionally, continuing with paperwork and scheduling and leading his division, but outside of that…

He’d struggled in a similar way with the peace, always hypervigilant of a new threat that could appear after the war against the Quincy. He wishes he’d never lost that feeling, then maybe he wouldn’t feel as though he were struggling to stay afloat.

With a sigh through his nose, he straightens and walks back to his room. He doesn't plan to go to sleep, he knows he'll just be staring at the ceiling. He'll take Hyourinmaru, go somewhere secluded, and train.

_________________________________

“Why do you persist in coming here every week?”

Toshiro stays placid in the face of Mayuri’s irritation. The Twelfth Division captain hasn’t looked over at him, too focused on the readings a console produces.

Around them, there’s six division members busily doing the same, but two whisper their findings to each other and note them down on clipboards. However, every now and then, each officer glances over in the direction of the two captains. The only Soul who doesn’t is Nemu, who sits next to Akon and watches him as he types things into the system and explains to her what he's doing.

While being led to see Mayuri by Akon just a few minutes ago, Toshiro noticed in other lab rooms how frantic the officers were. They spoke in clipped whispers, and were quick to turn their backs when they realized he was passing by. By comparison, this lab is calm.

Toshiro folds his arms into his sleeves. “Perhaps it would be best if we speak in your office, Kurotsuchi.”

“And why should we do that?”

With a final glance to the others in the room, he says, “I’m checking for any updates on the de-zombification side effects.”

Now Mayuri whips around to him, his headpiece almost hitting the back of Akon’s head; neither his lieutenant or Nemu flinch. “And it’s as I’ve said: we’re still investigating all avenues.” The Twelfth Division Captain thrusts a hand to his console. “As is, we have more urgent matters at hand. Hell has made itself known, and we have been tasked with investigating how the Jigoku no Rinki was able to appear here, among other things. As a captain of Gotei Thirteen, you must say this take precedence, correct?”

Toshiro withholds a glare, because of course Mayuri is right. He should leave it there, just thank him for his time and go, but he’s lost his patience. “It’s been over ten years,” he whispers.

“And you rarely asked me about progress in those years,” Mayuri retorts, choosing to not lower his voice in return. “Suddenly, you’re in here every week and disrupting our work as a result.”

“It’s not my intention, Kurotsuchi.”

“Then explain yourself, if you would be so kind.” His voice is almost venomous, but Toshiro doesn’t back down.

He closes the gap between them and keeps his voice quiet. “The last progress you made was over three years ago, and it got shelved when the last solution failed to produce any results. As far as I’m aware, you haven’t explored any other options since, or if you have, you have not made me or Matsumoto aware of them.”

“Are you questioning my rigor? Are you not grateful anymore that I saved you and your lieutenant?”

“You know I am. If not for you, we would’ve died there and then. I am simply asking why you haven’t --”

“Then leave it be! How dare you make demands when I have done that much for you!”

“Matsumoto doesn’t have much longer left to live!”

Mayuri’s annoyance alleviates somewhat, his frown deepening and turning into one of confusion. After a pause, he speaks more quietly. “It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?”

That catches Toshiro off guard, and he grunts in surprise. Of course he’s concerned for Rangiku, and up until now he’d had little regard for his own life being shortened. He’d willingly take the price it paid, for better or worse.

Since Hell had made itself known, however, he’d been on edge. He’d let the anxiety he kept pushing down and simmering away get the better of him. If he dies in combat now, the Soul Society would have no choice but to perform a Konso Reisai twelve years after his passing. Could they find a way to return the balance by then? He would've once unequivocally said ‘yes’, but after everything that happened, from betrayals in their own ranks to the return of the Quincy, he didn’t know anymore. If they had given Hell so much power without realizing all of these years, just how long would it take to restore the balance between all the worlds?

He has no doubt Mayuri is investigating all of this, trying to determine the best course of action for Shunsui and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen. But when would it happen? What if it took too long? What will become of him and Rangiku?

“Master Mayuri.”

Both captains look towards Nemu. The young Soul appears as neutral as her voice had been, but her hand is fisted into the sleeve of Akon’s uniform.  The Twelfth Division lieutenant’s attention had also been diverted away from the console, and he looks between his captain and Toshiro, waiting for someone to speak.

Mayuri huffs, his anger cooling a fraction. “By my estimates, you and Lieutenant Matsumoto have well over a hundred and fifty years left. We have time to find a remedy and restore your lost lifespan.” He levels Toshiro with a hardened gaze. “If you continue to come here for any reason other than findings towards any of our research on Hell, I will have no choice but to report this to the Captain-Commander. Are we clear?”

To Toshiro’s bewilderment, he actually waits for his answer. He has no choice, and withholding a cringe, he nods.

Satisfied, Mayuri turns away and waves a hand towards the lab’s entrance. “Akon, escort him out of the division.”

“Yes, sir.”

Toshiro remains rooted to the spot for a moment longer. It’s useless, he knows, but he somehow hopes Mayuri will change his mind, will give him even an inkling into anything he’s found.

After a beat, he follows Akon out. Neither say anything as they walk down the corridors.

It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?

How had he known? Did Mayuri have the same fears? That he will perish sooner rather than later, and he too could be forced into Hell if they do not find a solution to restoring the balance between all the worlds? It’s hard to imagine someone like him worrying about such things.

But then, he did have Nemu, and for all of his faults and failings, he was treating this Nemu better than the last.

Toshiro shakes his head. Everything seems wrong. Because if Mayuri Kurotsuchi of all people can understand what he’s going through, then the world has surely gone mad.

He knows as soon as he leaves here, he’ll go train. It’s the best way to deal with the pent-up emotions. It's the only way he can think of deal with their current predicament when they lack any answers.

_________________________________

Ichika’s laughter comes through the walls. Despite the fact it was the reason for his rude awakening, Toshiro’s oddly relieved to hear it. He’d seen her in the aftermath of Hell’s invasion of the World of Living; she was pale and quiet, clinging to Renji so tight her knuckles were white. She also hadn’t bothered him with spontaneous visits to the Tenth Division office since the incident.

Regardless, after two weeks, she was running around and causing mischief like always – at least according to Ikkaku and Renji. Children have that ability to bounce back, even in times of uncertainty. He remembers when he could do it, but it is a trait that has slowly faded over time.

Toshiro groans as he sits up. A tiny sliver of daylight piercing his room through the curtains. He checks his denreishikai; it’s just after eight in the morning. He’s usually up with the sun, but being on this holiday in this God forsaken heat continues to make him sluggish.

He rises from his bed and goes to the wind to draw the curtains back. At least the clouds are back today. He has a view of the biggest beach in the area, and judging from the gleam one person’s head gives off, he guesses it’s Ikkaku doing laps in the ocean; Yumichika probably isn’t far from him, likely being one of the people sitting under a beach umbrella.

If they’re already there, then the others are likely not far behind. As if on cue, he hears Renji and Ichika leaving their room, excitedly chattering about going down to the beach. As they pass his room, Rukia comments on her husband’s clothing – “Did you pick that shirt? And what does ‘Sun’s out, guns out’ mean?” – but Toshiro doesn’t hear the rest over Ichika’s laughter.

He glances at the bag Hyourinmaru is hidden away in. He briefly recalls his training from last night - not that he was able to do much without drawing unwanted attention from locals. He'd practiced his zanjutsu in a forested area on the other side of town, and had returned to inn in the early hours of the morning. At least it had tired him out enough to make him fall asleep.

With a long exhale, he focuses back on today. If he’s going to use his zanpakuto while at the beach, he’ll have to be discreet about it; and he has no doubt the others will be clamoring for him to make shaved-ice.

He goes to the bathroom, which is several degrees warmer than his room. After showering and getting changed into a shirt and a pair of board shorts, there’s a knock on his door.

“Captain, are you awake yet?” Rangiku asks in a singsong tone.

Toshiro sighs. All of this cheerfulness is too much after just waking up. “Yeah.”

She opens the door, but she’s not alone.

“We’ve got your breakfast here, Hitsugaya-kun.” Momo holds out a plastic bag and takeaway coffee cup. “I just chose what I thought you’d might like, I hope that’s okay.”

Rangiku enters his room, but stops only a few steps in. “Captain, it’s freezing in here!” she complains, rubbing her bare arms. “How do you stand it?”

“It’s hot,” is all he says as comes over to them. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“We figured you could do with a sleep in,” Rangiku says. “It’s so rare that it happens, and you’re on a break, you’re supposed to do things like that.”

“I’m supposed to be supervising over all of you.”

“Supervising,” Rangiku says under breath with a sigh. “Honestly, Captain.”

“So is Captain Kuchiki,” Momo says at the same time. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, it’s okay to relax even when you’ve been assigned to watch over us.”

He shakes his head. “In any event, what’s happening today? I assume you’re all going down to the beach?”

_________________________________

Toshiro watches Granny hanging the washing. He’d tried to help her, but she’d waved him off and told him to go rest inside.

“You hardly ever get a break these days,” she said. “You’re such a hard worker, but you should rest more often.”

He'd made a pot of tea, and by the time she’s done it’ll be cool enough for her to drink. He'd also set up a bowl of amanatto and placed it next to the clay cups on the tray.

As he waits, he fiddles with one of his old spinning tops. He’d dug it out from the closet, buried behind futon mattresses and other things from his childhood. He still doesn’t understand why Granny keeps most of it, she’s always been a practical person who hates clutter.

He slowly wraps the cord around the top of the toy, but never releases it. He holds it loosely in his fingers, but his gaze remains on Granny. She bends down to her basket and pulls out another sheet to hang. In isolation, it's a peaceful image.

Her life rarely changes. She still goes to the same stalls and shops for food and household supplies. She still drinks the same tea blends, washes the same clothes and linens, and wakes up and goes to sleep at the same times every day.

Her life is simpe and despite it’s repetitiveness, it’s unplanned. Things are just the way they are, and they work for her.

For the first time in decades, he wishes he could return to that life. Even with all the negatives that came with it, compared to life he leads now, it’s peaceful and far less complicated.

He planned things to a fault, he should’ve known it would be his downfall one day; or at least, lead to disappointment when something came and ruined everything. Of course the peace couldn’t last, something had to disrupt it. Life is never the same, it's never consistent. How long had he expected it to go on for?

But that was the thing. He never made plans for the peace, he had simply lived in it. It was almost like his life before he became a captain, only with more responsibilities he could handle.

Granny turns to him after hanging up the last of the washing. Her smile widens when she spots the teapot and bowl of amanatto. He can’t help but smile back despite the growing heaviness within him.

He doesn't plan to tell her about Hell yet. He won’t break this peace for her.

_________________________________

It’s far too hot, even under the shade.

Toshiro lies his head and torso over the picnic table, a cup half filled with melting shaved ice in one hand and a spoon in the other. The shelter above and around him is made of wood and obstructs the view of onlookers that weren’t on the beach. Combined with having so few humans around, it allows him to discreetly use his zanpakuto to make shaved ice in one of it's corner.

Rangiku had gone out and bought bottles of syrup, paper cups, and wooden spoons from a nearby convenience store. All of it is stored in a freezer bag along with a bucket of the ice he’d conjured up five minutes ago. Hyournmaru lies out of sight in his own bag, but the cold flowing form the blade brushes along the floor of the shelter, cooling his feet and ankles. He considered himself a glorified placeholder for the table, and so long as he is here, no humans would come along and accidentally spot his weapon.

With some effort, he raises himself to take another spoonful of slushy ice and munches on it. He watches the group on the beach, all doing various things. Ikkaku and Hisagi race each other, doing several laps in the ocean. If it weren’t for the heat bearing down on him above and the hot sand between the shade and the ocean, he’d be doing laps himself.

He slides his gaze over to Kazui and Ichigo, both wading into the water while Orihime collected seashells along the shoreline ; they’d taken the train to come down for the day. Orihime finds a shell that makes her grin and she jogs to the Abarai family. Ichika makes a sandcastle with Rukia, giggling when Renji comes up behind her with a wreath of seaweed and tickles her with it before draping it over one of the walls. It’s then Orihime gets their attention and hands them a few seashells to decorate another wall.

Further up the beach, Nanao walks up to Rangiku, who sunbathes on a towel. She lectures Rangiku about something -- likely the fact she's sunbathing in the first place -- and his lieutenant squints up at her in response. Yumichika, relaxing under an umbrella, makes a comment which makes Rangiku snap at him and Nanao wearily rolls her head to one side.

Rindo, Momo and Kiyone had gone for a walk up the beach to the rockpools. Toshiro spots them as specks in the distance, and the footprints they'd left behind are gradually washed away every time the waves surge in.

He takes another spoonful of shaved ice, then eases back down to the table and begins to doze off. There’s only the darkness beneath his eyelids, the crashing of waves, the hot breeze that blows through, Hyourinmaru's cold circling around his ankles and the distant voices of the Shinigami and humans. He can’t relax, ending up in a state between being awake and on the verge of napping.

It’s twenty minutes later when he’s startled by a call of his name. He opens his eyes and turns his head just in time to see Kazui and Ichika racing towards him. He lets go of his completely melted shaved ice to raise himself up.

“Captain Hitsugaya!” Kazui calls out again, grinning.

“He heard you the first time, dummy!” Ichika chastises.

He thinks to lecture her about calling Kazui a dummy -- it seems like the responsible thing to do -- but someone beats him to it.

“Don’t call Kazui-chan bad names, Ichika-chan!” Momo calls out from behind. She pants and tries to keep her hat on as she rushes to catch up to them.

Ichika blushes slightly in shame, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Kazui isn't phased, his grin still in place.

With as much energy as he can muster, Toshiro lazily waves his hand in greeting before the children come to a stop in the shelter. “Babysitting?” he says to Momo.

She shakes her head. “They just happened to be on their way to see you too.”

He returns his attention to Kazui and Ichika. “You two looking for some shaved ice?”

They both nod eagerly.

“Papa said you make the best shaved ice ever,” Ichika says.

I’m the only one here who can, he thinks. He only grunts as he twists around to the freezer bag. The ice had gotten more slushy, but it's still usable. “Which flavours do you want?”

“Watermelon!” they say in unison.

Toshiro smirks. “Good choice.”

He takes out the syrup and puts it on the table, then scoops two cups into the ice and sticks a spoon in each. He hands them over to the children. “It’s all yours.”

As expected, they go crazy with the syrup, completely dying the ice red. Momo intervenes before it can get too messy, making sure most of the flavoring stays in the cups.

“You two should eat that under the shade,” she says, pointing at the umbrellas Yumichika and Nanao rest under. “And make sure you bring the empty cups back here, okay?”

Toshiro withholds a chuckle. Since when is she their mother?

Ichika and Kazui both nod to Momo, then turn back to Toshiro.

“Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya,” Kazui says with a quick bow of his head.

Ichika does likewise. “Thank you!”

He waves a hand. "Enjoy, I guess."

They take that as their cue to run off. They go to Yumichika and Rangiku, who both cease their argument when the children arrive and make room for them under the umbrellas.

He turns to Momo, but she’s still watching Ichika and Kazui. She's flushed across her cheeks and shoulders, and sand dusts her shins and sandaled feet. Strangely, he senses hesitation from her, as though she is nervous about turning to face him. It’s in her posture, which though looking relaxed to most, has the signs she’s trying to hide. Her arms are loosely braced over her midsection, and her shoulders are a few inches higher than normal.

“You want one too?” he asks, getting her attention.

Momo shakes her head, smiling. “Oh, no, I was just coming to see how you were doing.”

He ignores the small, warm flutter her concern sends through his chest and takes an empty cup out of the bag. “You might as well have one.”

She considers for a moment. “…Well, it is getting hotter.”

“Orange, lime, or watermelon? Matsumoto didn’t buy mango and the strawberry is empty.”

 “You remembered?”

He hides his embarrassment by saying nothing and stooping lower than necessary to fill up the cup with ice.

From behind, she giggles. “In that case, orange please.”

He fishes out the syrup and a spoon before he twists back around and hands everything to her.

“I’m sure everyone appreciates you doing this,” she says while pouring the syrup.

“Feels like that the main reason I’m here,” he mutters drily.

“That’s not true!”

“I didn’t mean it, dummy.”

She makes a sound between a sigh and a chuckle. “Now who’s calling people bad names.”

He rests back down on the table, watching as she takes a spoonful of orange ice and chomps down on it. She gives an appreciative hum and her smile turns into a grin. “Thank you, Shiro-chan.”

And despite her old habit, he’s certain if he were in a better mood he’d give her a small smile in return. “Captain Hitsugaya.”

She continues to eat as if she hadn’t heard him.

It feels like this is where their interaction should end, that she should walk off back to the others. She stays rooted to the spot, and it’s unnatural to him.

“You didn’t have to come check on me,” he says.

She pauses, staring down into the shaved ice. “I know.”

Why did it sound like she’d taken his comment as a jab? His frown deepens. “Weren’t you going to the rockpools before?”

“Yeah, but Rindou-kun and Kotetsu-san wanted to go out further than I intended.” She raises a foot and wriggles her toes. “I wasn’t wearing the right shoes to go with them.”

She isn’t lying, but he senses there’s more to it. As he considers whether to prod any further, she suddenly stops eating, sticking the spoon into the ice. “Have you just been lying here all day?”

He shrugs. “More or less.”

“But that’s no good. You should have something to do here!” She shakes her head. “The majority voted for a beach, but...maybe we should’ve gone somewhere else.”

“Why do you…?” Why does that strike a nerve within him? Why did she feel the need to make sure he is having a good time here? She didn’t belong under the shade, she loves the sun and places like this; most Shinigami did.

Why is he even here?

He gives a frustrated grunt. “Just go back to the others already.”

At her widened, alarmed eyes, he realizes he’d said it with the irritation he'd been trying to hide and with more strictness than he’d intended. Damn this heat! No, he can’t blame it on the weather. He’d let the heaviness in his mind get the better of him, and the uncertainty about why they are here.

He forces himself back up, ignoring the strain in his arms. After a beat, he begins to apologise. “I didn’t mean --”

She lays a hand on his. She curls her fingers loosely around his wrist, a silent way of saying he can remove himself from her grasp. Her hand is colder than usual, thanks to the shaved ice. But had they always been this small? How had he only just noticed it?

“I get it. I know the heat gets to you,” Momo says. She looks out to the sea for a pause before continuing. “I-I know it’s not much, but in the evening, it’ll be cooler. If you want to and you’re up for it, we can come back here and walk along the beach after dinner.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because you deserve to enjoy the beach too.”

I don’t even like beaches, is what he’d say aloud, but he won’t.

"And…" She purses her lips, and her cheeks become a shade darker. "We're friends, aren't we? I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?"

There’s that look, the one she always had when she tried to help others. He’ll never tell her how much it meant to him to see she was still capable of showing that gaze after everything she went through.

At his lack of a response, her gaze flutters to the ground. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone, then that’s okay too. Just so long as you’re able to enjoy yourself.”

“No.” He gentle extracts his hand from her grasp. She raises her head, confused.

It’s then he feels how tired he is. It’s not lethargy from the heat, it’s something deeper. Something that was the result of holding back too much, and maybe, as she waits for him to elaborate, it’s time she knew about it. “We’ll go together.”

His heart clenches at the stunned softness in her eyes. Eventually, she smiles. “Okay.”

“Oi, Hinamori-san!”

Both turn to look in the direction of Hisagi, who waves to her. “We’re doing the race now!”

“I’ll be there!” she calls back. Then to Toshiro. “I promised them I’d be the time keeper for a race they’re doing.”

Toshiro watches Hisagi, Ikkaku, Renji, Ichigo, Kazui, and Ichika all gather together on the sand. Nanao stands off to the side a small towel in her hand – probably the as a flag to signal for them to start. Rangiku uses the end of an umbrella to draw a long line in the sand.

Toshiro doesn’t see the point of racing on a beach, especially in this heat and with all of their abilities, so all he has to offer is, “Whatever keeps them entertained.”

Momo backs out of the shelter, and with the spoon still in her mouth, says something to the effect of, “I’ll see you later.”

He watches on as Momo rushes down and takes her place next to Nanao, who hands her a stop watch.

 Kazui quickly eats the rest of his shaved ice, while it seems Ichika had passed hers to Rukia. She and Renji are amping each other up, but Ichika bursts into laughter.

I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?

They've never been a normal group, but this seems in character for all of them. For the first time since coming here , Toshiro has a fleeting sentiment that he's glad they can act like they always do despite what looms over them.

_________________________________

He’s rarely wondered about the future. He always did schedules for division-related activities, and would keep appointments made in mind when planning his week or month. But he never thought of any of these things beyond what was necessary. He never considered what his own future held.

There were only four instances he can think of when he pondered on what lay ahead for him: the first was when he had to leave Granny to go to the Academy, the second was when he'd been appointed captain of the Tenth Division, the third was while he recovered from his injuries after Aizen’s defeat, and the fourth was in first few months after the war against the Quincy ended.

He’s always considered himself someone who lives in the present, who only plans for the future if the present shows him he needs to. Even then, he only went as far as he needed to, never going beyond into the 'what ifs' that weren't related to the task at hand.

Lately, he wonders how the buildings around him will change as the years go by. Will they need repairs from unprecedented weather events? Will they be renovated to look different? Will the Tenth Division get another barracks as it’s forces grow in numbers?

He wonders how tall the trees in his division will grow, and if any of them will have to be cut down.

He also wonders what beings he has yet to meet. Unless Ichigo and Orihime plan to have another child, he doubts there will be more than three humans he'll ever have to introduce himself to. He keeps away from the Arrancar where possible, but he's certain there's Souls still out there he will cross paths with more than once. What new recruits will have to introduce himself to? Will any of the captains retire and be replaced?

He wonders when Hyourinmaru’s Completed form will become his true bankai, where he will no longer have to wait for the petals to fall. He wonders if the transformation will ever be less painful or strainious.

He wonders when Hell will make it’s next move. In the next year? Or month? Or week? Or tomorrow? He can see Jushiro's bankai elongating out of Hell's gates, a grotesque distortion of what they were all once familiar with. How did the rest of him look? Would he remember who any of them were? And if he did, would he resent them for what they unknowingly did?

He wonders how much longer Granny and Rangiku have to live.

He wonders how much longer he has left.

Prior to the completed form, he could never picture how he’d looked as an adult. In a strange way, it’s as if the world has told him he won’t make it, that he will only transform into that age but not live to experience it. He can’t picture Rangiku as being older than she is, or any of the his fellow Shinigami for that matter.

That of course included Momo, who sits in front of him, talking while putting paperwork in front of him. He hasn’t heard a word she’s said. Even though he can’t picture her as an adult, he’s mostly certain she has a future as one. One where she smiles often, and still calls him ‘Shiro-chan’ because old habits die hard. She still sees Renji and Izuru for the occasional meet up, and goes with Rangiku to bars and carries her back to the Tenth Division barracks. She starts a bigger literature club, where members will talk about the books they’ve read and she will make sure everyone gets a chance to talk. He can see her taking up painting on top of the drawing she already does, and her room will have the faint smell of paints and drawing charcoal.

Maybe there would’ve been a time he could see himself there too, but that window seems to get narrower and narrower the heavier these thoughts make him feel.

“Are you all right?”

Toshiro tries to keep his reaction muted, but a startled gasp still leaves him when her hand comes over his forearm. He’s about to come up with some excuse, but her concern softens him.

“You weren’t here, were you?” she says.

He looks at the paperwork, unable to deny it.

She glances down her hand, and appears surprised she touched him. She's quick to lean back, but her hand slides off his arm and remains close by. “What’s on your mind?”

The top line of the document in front of him reads ‘Agenda for joint training session 34’. He takes a stab at what she was saying before. “It’s nothing to worry about, just trying to figure out schedules for the next three months. If we try to do a joint training session next month, it will have to be in the first week.”

Her brow twitches, trying to not frown. Her eyes search his, but again he looks down at the paperwork.

“Yes, of course.”

It’s as she says this that he realizes the document has nothing to do with a joint training session for his division. It was for one with Third Division; she likely showed him as an example of what they could do next time for a kido training session.

He bites the inside of his cheek, ashamed. He's supposed to be a captain, where was his focus?

He waits for her to correct him. Then she’ll try to pry it all out of him, because she always wants to knows what’s on his mind. He doesn’t want to snap at her, would never do such a thing under any circumstances. But this weight, these thoughts, they were beginning to take up more space within him. He doesn’t know how he’ll react to her trying to navigate through them with him.

“Captain,” she says, surprising him enough to make him look up. Her smile is small and unsure, but she persists. “Actually, I didn’t just come here to discuss training sessions. The Women’s Association is looking to fund a vacation to the World of the Living. It’s a chance for everyone to have a break from work, we haven’t had a proper one in over ten years, right?”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

Her smile almost wobbles away, but she finds the strength to not only keep it in place, but to widen it too. “I’m inviting you to come along.”

________________________________

Compared to the afternoon, the sand is cooler under Toshiro’s feet. He strolls down to the sea, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Momo is behind him, but she pauses every now and then pick up seashells.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the shoreline. The last sliver of the sun disappears over the horizon, colouring the sky dark blues and purples. A lone boat travels across the waves to a nearby dock. Behind him, a few cars whizz by and people go out for the night to bars and restaurants. Rangiku and a few of the others are among them, going to a izakaya tonight for dinner and drinks. He can already imagine how silly they’ll be acting by the time he and Momo rejoin them later tonight on the way back to the inn.

With a shake of his head, he turns his attention to the waves lapping at his toes. The next surge sends a wave over his feet. The froth of the sea spins around his ankles and the cold of the water tingles across his skin before receding away, only to return seconds later. It’s oddly relaxing, and he’s entranced by the motions of the waves. They come and go, come and go, never ceasing. It’s been like this for millions of years, since before he or anyone he knows were ever born. It has a beginning but no ending in sight.

It’s the first time he’s been at peace since the revelations about Hell came to light. Even so, the unease threatens to bubble up from the pit of his stomach. For even if there is no end in sight he can see, the ocean will vanish one day, whether it be Hell being strong enough to destroy this world, or a more natural end much further down the line.

So caught up in this, he doesn’t register Momo approaching until she’s by his side, and flinches when she speaks.

“There’s already so many stars out,” she marvels.

Thankfully, her is gaze on the dusk sky. Gone is her hat and hair ties, allowing the breeze lightly tussles her hair around her shoulders and back. She wears a shirt rolled up to the sleeves, and a bright orange summer dress beneath it. In one hand she holds her sandals, and shells in the other.

Indeed, stars glimmer down at them. Being this far away from the lights of the town, there’s more of them then he usually accustomed to in the World of the Living, and constellations he’s never seen before.

“I can see the pear.” Momo points to a cluster of stars on the right. “Remember that one?”

One of the many silly constellations they made up as children. “If that’s somehow it, it still doesn’t look like a pear.”

“Yeah it does! There’s the stem, and there’s the rest!” As she says this, she traces her finger over each star to map it out for him. “Its just upside down.”

He shakes his head. “You always had a strange imagination.”

She scoffs. “It’s called being creative.” After a moment, she tilts her head to one side. “I didn’t think it would show up in the World of the Living.”

“Our sky isn’t much different from there’s.”

“I guess not.”

The mood has lightened slightly, but the silence that follows is filled with the crashing of waves. They can remain like this, but like earlier today, it doesn’t feel natural. He turns to her, but she still has her eyes on the stars. He can leave her to be like this, oblivious to what is going on beneath the surface.

“Hinamori.” He has her attention now. He unknowingly takes in a deep breath as his stomach clenches, but he can’t stand not knowing anymore. “Why did you invite me to this?”

The question doesn’t catch her off guard like he expected it to. Instead, she tucks the shells she’d collected into one of her shirt pockets and glides her foot through the water. “It’s a shame we all couldn’t be here, and I know what happened is still on all of our minds, but it’s good to see those who did are relaxing a little. The last few months have been tough, and we all deserve to have a break from it. To step away for a little while.” She smiles wistfully. “That’s why I invited you to come. Even though it’s at a beach, and even though it’s only for a few days, I thought it would be good to spend time with you, Rangiku-san, Nanao-san, Abarai-kun, and the others away from what’s been bothering us.”

He thought hearing her say he wasn’t the only one thinking about the revelations about Hell would reassure him, but it only serves to annoy him. He’s no fool, he knows the others hadn’t forgotten about what happened, but why use their time here of all places? They can’t have moved on, this was too insurmountable to move on from.

“Aren’t we just running away?” He hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud, and it makes Momo's brow furrow.

His voice rises as he continues. “Shouldn’t we be using this time to plan for Hell’s next attack? We know nothing about their strategy. They’ve done nothing since Ukitake’s Konso Reisai, andKurotsuchi keeps investigating, but nothing ever comes up. We’re just here, doing nothing about it.” He throws his hands out to the sides. “We didn’t even know what we’ve been doing to our former captains this whole time!”

Momo shakes her head and braces her arm across her torso, her hand holding her opposite elbow. “We couldn’t have known.”

“But now we do! And what now? We’ll go to battle, that’s for certain, but what if this battle doesn’t end like the others?”

“That we’ll lose?”

“No, not even that. That we’ll be fighting Hell for decades. The first war against the Quincy lasted years, Hinamori. What if this battle is the same? What if we lose more captains, and we’ll have no choice but to perform Konso Reisai for all of them?”

“You…really think the conflict would last that long?”

“I don’t know, and that’s…” He let’s out an exasperated breath. He’s never like this, shouting and venting his thoughts, and that only frustrates him even more. “We need something concrete! We need direction, and we won’t get that unless we’re working on it back in the Soul Society. Hell must be doing this deliberately, it's a psychological tactic to weaken us."

She looks at him in confusion and worry, an expression that would normally cool his anger and makes him reassess what he'd said. But he's in too far now, he won't stop.

“You saw Sogyo no Kotowari.”

She frowns, likely wondering where this is going. “Only at a glance. Kurosaki-san saw it up close.”

“But his description fit what you saw, yes?”

She nods solemnly. “I thought I was seeing things, but when I got back to the Soul Society and found out what was happening with the Konso Reisai, it suddenly made sense.”

“Ukitake impaled that Espada, but we don’t know for what reason. We don’t know if he is on our side or not. If he isn’t, if everyone we have sent to Hell this whole time isn’t, we’re going to have to face them.”

The grip on her arm tightens. “I know.”

“I won't to become like Ukitake,” he says fiercely, bordering on a growl. “I won't become warped. If I have to fight him and the others, then so be it. But I won't to become like them. I don’t want to…”

“What makes you think you’ll die before the conflict is over?” she asks.

He doesn't answer, can't answer as his throat tightens.

Her hand drops back to her side as she leans forward. “You won’t die, Shiro-chan.”

“How can you know that?” he struggles to get out.

“Because you’re one of the strongest Shinigami I know, in skill, in your bond with your zanpakuto, and in fortitude.” Her eyes become glassy and her voice gets increasingly louder. “Someone like you doesn’t die so easily. I know you’ll keep fighting, no matter you are faced with!  You lived through so much, and survived wounds that would kill so many! You don’t give up, you’ve never given up, it’s a quality you embody above everything else! There’s no way you can die, don’t even think about it! And don't push everyone away!”

She pants for breath and bites her lip, trying to prevent tears. He’s at a loss for words. Had she too been bottling something up? Was it anxiety about Hell, or was it about him?

A wave hits the back of his shins. They both look down. When had the water gotten this high? Is the tide already coming in, or had they waded further into the sea? Wordless, he walks back to the shore, and after a moment, she follows. He halts once he’s back at the shoreline, but she takes a few steps away from it.

As her breathing quietens, Momo’s gaze searches for something in him. Her eyes are so wide, alarmed and still on the verge of tearing up. “I-I didn’t understand why you were becoming so distant, I thought getting away from the Soul Society would help, but now I think I know. Are you…?” She’s conflicted, her lips opening to continuing her question, only to close seconds later and becoming a taut, pressed line.

He’d wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but not like this. To his own ear, he’s ended up sounding both paranoid and like a child complaining about something not going his way. He ended up upsetting her. Toshiro sighs, suddenly more tired than before. “What is it?”

She still hesitates, her focus on the waves circling his ankles. Eventually, she raises her head and steps closer. “Are you scared?”

It hits him in the chest like a stone thrown into glass. For a second, his blood runs tight and cold in his limbs. His heart skips a beat, then clenches. He can feel hairline fractures running through him, threatening to break apart. Momo hadn’t hit the nail on the head, but she knows one facet of what is going on within him.

The impact she made must show, because her expression softens further. “It’s okay if you are, I think we all are. I think it’s why we’re all here. In this time of uncertainty, the only thing we can do right now is to be here with our friends. We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.”

Or we could be planning. Somehow, the thought sounds strange, as if the sentiment behind it weren’t quite right anymore.

Momo closes the gap between them, their hands almost brushing. “If you really feel we shouldn’t be here, then why did you come?” It’s not an accusation, only a gentle question.

Because you wanted me to. She still isn’t aware of the hold she has over him, but how would she react if she knew? But her invite hadn’t been the only reason, nor had it just been Rangiku and Granny’s encouragement, or Shunsui appointing him as one of the supervisors.

We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.

Maybe if the mood were different, he would tease her for picking up on his philosophy. In her own way, she had describe what would be his usual way of thinking. He slides his gaze to the horizon, watching the waves form, build, then curl in and crash in on themselves. It reminds him the fireworks, how they rise and flare into existence, only to scatter and fade away after they’ve exploded in the sky.

What happened to him? Why is he like this?

No, he already knows why. He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, but it does nothing to help. If he looks at the source of all of this now, the fractures might get bigger, but if he doesn't, they'll only run deeper.

And so, he opens his eyes to the stars.

“Before Hell, Kurotsuchi was working on a cure for the de-zombification process for Matsumoto and I,” he begins, his voice rougher. “That included returning the years of our life taken by the procedure, or at least, extending out lifespans to something greater than what they currently are. I expected slow progress, but when Hell revealed itself to us, of course work into a cure had ceased all together. It’s the right thing to do. We lay our lives down for the Soul Society.” His gaze fixes on her. “For our friends.”

Momo lets out a long, silent breath, her shoulders falling lower. She waits, always patient and willing to listen to him, but there's an urgency beneath it.

With some effort, he continues. “Knowing what will happen once those who obtained bankai die, knowing we can become so warped, that we can fight against our former officers, our friends. If I die before the conflict ends, that's what I'll become. I don't want that. I never want to hurt anyone on our side." I never want to hurt you again. "I didn't want..." I didn't want the peace to end."I don't..." I don't want to die.

Something drops into the sand behind them. Then, her arms around him, pulling him into side ways hug. His widened eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking and unfocused. The last time they had hugged was when the war against the Quincy had ended. Why is it they only hug when they're sad? But the feel of her arms around his shoulders, to know she's here with him, it makes him shudder, verging of a sob. He holds it back, believing it would do neither of them any good, but he turns in her arms and wraps his own around her.

“Without knowing what’s ahead, I can’t just relax like everyone else,” he admits.

“I know,” she whispers, voice tight. "With all of that on your mind, how could anyone?"

"And knowing I don't have much longer to live…"

A minute passes, and there's only the waves, which now coming up to their mid shines. The tide is definitely coming in, it wont be long before it gets higher.

Toshiro thinks to pull away, but Momo's arms tighten around him. "There's still time for Captain Kurotsuchi to find a cure for you and Rangiku-san, I know he won't give up on it. We don't know what we're up against, but that's nothing new for us, isn't it?" and he feels her smile against his temple. “In times of uncertainty and without answers, we only have each other, " she says "You look out for others, and become stronger for others. It’s why one of the reasons you’re worried about the future, right? It’s not just about fearing an early death, isn’t it? You care about everyone, you want to know what you can do to protect them for what’s to come. You want to live with everyone, right?”

His heart quivers. He’d seen everyone’s confusion and dourness for more than a month, and it did nothing to alleviate the emotions that slowly took hold of him. The peace had softened him, had made him so accustomed to seeing everyone in higher spirits. He missed it, longed for it after what they had learned about Hell. He especially missed seeing Momo that way, after everything she went through, by Aizen's hand and unintentionally his own.

He recalls how fragile the flowers in her hat looked, how small her hands seemed. He hadn't had to think about protecting anyone in years, hadn't had to be vigilant or on guard at all times, but they'd slowly been bubbling back to the surface in the recent months. When Hell comes, those feelings will come back in full force. He would never let anything harm her, not when he now has the powers to protect her.

As the seconds pass, a strange grief takes hold. He mourns for an uncertain future, for a future that will likely not be his. She has been a part of his life for so many years, and there was a time he was certain she would still be there with him in the future, but now, even if he makes it out of this alive, who's to say of she or Rangiku will be there? It's always been a possibility, ever since any of them became Shinigami, but with Hell now posing as a threat - one that has broken the peace they'd enjoyed for over ten years - it only exacerbates the chances of it happening. He mourns for the peace that is broken, because at some point without realising, he had seen that as their future. They would all go on happily, performing their duties with only the occasional hitch, but nothing that would threaten their everyday lives, the very existence of all the worlds.

The peace was too good to last; but it had happened, and he had enjoyed it with everyone else. It's the way of all the worlds; the good can only last for so long, but it never completely vanishes. It finds it's way back in smaller ways.

With a new wave smacking particularly hard into the backs his legs, he pulls away. He takes her hand, ignoring the surprised look she gives him, and leads her out of the water. “Come on, we should head back, the tide is starting to come in.”

Along the way, she stoops down and picks up the sandals she’s thrown aside to hug him. They walk up the beach and up the mounds and stairs in silence.

What they'd talked about isn't really an answer or a solution to his worries. He’ll feel this unease about the future for as long as Hell is a threat. But the waves, they ebb and flow. The stars burn until there’s nothing left; they shine brightly until they fade away. The worlds go on, with or without beings who have left them. It's both a disconcerting and calming thought.

As they near the road a few minutes later, Momo she gives his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-kun."

"Huh?"

"For telling me everything. I know it couldn't have been easy for you." Then, ruefully, "I'm sorry that this all happened at a beach."

Toshiro could almost laugh, but he manages to withhold it. "It was a majority vote for the location, there was no changing that."

He doesn't looks back at her until they stop on the side of the road. The streetlight next to them casts half of her face in white-yellow light, while the sign of a nearby restaurant casts the other in pink and red.

"You've always been like this. Willing to listen to others, to let them speak their minds." He gives her a small smile. "I should be thanking you."

She gives a embarrassed shrug. "I'm not always like that."

He could argue with her until they're both deaf about her modesty, but he refrains. "Maybe you're right. It's good to...be away for a while, even if it's somewhere like here."

"Even if you can't stop thinking about what happened? Or what's to come?"

It's not her intention, but it almost feels like a test from the universe, to see if he has taken what she'd said to heart. He steps closer, gaze intent. "It's like you said, there was no way we could stop completely thinking about what happened. I can't let these thoughts go, I can't be like everyone else . I won't stop thinking about what happened, not until we can predict Hell's next moves." He bows his head. "I'm sorry for how I've been on this trip."

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I'm sorry for trying to force you to relax. I should've just come out and said I was concerned."

"With how I was, I can understand why you went about things the way you did. Besides, the ice cream wasn't bad. Dinner was good too, and the beach wasn't...terrible."

That gets a huff of a chuckle out of her.

"Still, I should've been upfront before we came."

She offers a sympathetic smile. "In the end, you were. We only have a day left, but please spend it however you want to." After he nods, she drops her sandals to the ground. "I should put these on before we go back to the others."

She lets go his hand to slide and clip her sandals back on.

His hand hovers in the air, and he knows he should put it back to his side. He'd done what he'd had to to lead them away from the sea. He's also never been one for physical contact beyond what was necessary in battle. But he didn't want to let go just yet.

With both of her shoes on, Momo straightens. "Do think they are at the bar by now?"

"Chances are."

He looks out to the road, lit by streetlights and lined with restaurants, bars, and closed shops. The weight within him is still there, but lighter. For the first time since he arrived, he thinks of somewhere he wants to go.

"I think I saw a takoyaki stall down there," he says, jerking his chin to the right. "Want to go eat before we join everyone else?"

Momo raises both eyebrows, but before he can ask why she reacted this way, she beams and takes his hand again. "Yeah, let's go."

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

Figured I'd start some kind of digest!

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed:

I've got a taglist form now! Because who doesn't love a good form?

BRHP: Chapter 14 posted; Atria learns the meaning of touch starvation and really, really misses her dad.

WIP Intro: Caught in the Crossfire (18+)

WIP Intro: The Arsonist Chronicles (18+)

WIP Whenever (Open Tag): BRHP chapter 15 snippet; pop pop is having a time time

Crossing Over: the 5th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; a new player has entered the fray, and a familiar face reappears.

Vampire Council lore and vampire origins lore

Aria/Omega snippety snip

This Week's Jams:

friends like these || Brassie [spotify/youtube]

Little Girl Gone || CHINCHILLA [spotify/youtube]

EVERGREEN || PVRIS [spotify/youtube]

Eyes on Fire || Gold Souls [spotify/youtube]

WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER || Cami Petyn [spotify/youtube]

Lizard Lady || Laura Doggett [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns:

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 15 should be coming out later today, with 16 slated for release sometime late this week or early next week. I'm finally in the chapters that don't require a ton of rewrites; most of what I've been doing is adding content. The whole thing is outlined through chapter 30 though! Since this is my entry for WIP Big Bang, updates will "stop" at chapter 18, since that's what I had published before the rewrites. After that, you'll have to wait for the release date! Which also means I have to wait for the release date for the serotonin, and that's going to be a nightmare.

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

At this point, it's just a matter of making myself work on it. About a third of chapter 9 is written and the entirety of Act II is outlined.

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

nervous laughter

Stellar Parallax

Fuck, I missed this WIP. I missed Jane especially, she's so fun to write -- I'm about a third of the way into chapter 9 and it seems to be flowing pretty well? I just wanna get to the part where she and Saren beat the shit out of each other LMAO

Lighthouse in the Fog

Dunno if y'all saw, but the lighthouse keeper stories have a tag and a tentative title now! It's going to remain as a series of loosely connected shorts, and that may very well be what I end up doing with Xatal as well. Anyway, we have some lore groundwork laid! Look out for the 6th short later today!

In the Works

I still have questions in my inbox that I am absolutely getting to! I've also got a bunch of unanswered tags in my drafts and Notion. Losing a week and a half of planned answer time threw my schedule WAY off. Submission for SSSC #006 is in the planning stage. Hannah and the MILF Squad Get Up To No Good is about 30% written and fully outlined. I have... so many Kryterius prompts left to fill, and so many more spotify wrapped prompts left, send help. Still working on separating out the Daddy Issues smutshots, hoping to finish up the rewrites for the F!Shali one before the end of July. TIPYNTS is most likely going to come out in October, and by then I'm hoping to have a backlog of chapters to make posting more consistent.

From the Skwad:

Door's always open! 18+ writing server for both fanworks and original works! Camp is starting soon! We also have a flash fiction challenge and three bingo cards running until the end of the month!

@teamdilf continues to absolutely baffle me with her productivity here we go: A Cheesy Situation is now complete, ch 16 of Alice's Adventures in Andromeda is live, ch 18 of The In-Laws and the Grandparents is live, A Night in the IKEA dropped which I'm absolutely dying over, and that's not even all of it. holy shit J i don't know how you do it but i'll have whatever you're having thx

@thetrashbagswasteland dropped ch 4 of the Sunseeker rewrite and I'm adsfdafdadsf yes. thank you king

@sparatus is tearing me to fucking pieces with Make Less the Depth of Grief. i hate you (i love you)

@uraniumwriting also obliterated me with their FFF entry.

@wrathbites is back and I'm literally beside myself I missed the Vampire AU so fucking much.

oops @commander-krios got me invested in Star Wars please look at this.

@starknstarwars updated Smuggler's Ruin aaaaaaaaaaaaa

A few of our members participated in Shenko Summer!! @dandenbo wrote Volta and @mrsd-writes wrote both We Got Here the Hard Way and Forever Home!

@regalbois dropped a new original oneshot and has been going bananas over Bioshock lately and gifting us MORE mlm deliciousness, ch 3 of Magnum Opus went live last night.

@inflarescent has a new wippppp aaaaaaa -- intro post for The Roulette Paradox here!

@discoeffect updated Far From Any Road and I am devouring the first book so I can read this one!!

Around the 'Blr:

Have you checked out the Writeblr Directory or Writeblr Cafe yet?

I'm literally still thinking about @captain-kraken's Heitha translator.

@void-botanist dropped some witch lore I'm eating with a spoon.

@tc-doherty ALSO popped off with the conlang.

The dates IRL are lining up with the dates in @elshells's Agent Ace EXCITING also a new chapter is dropping probably by the time I post this lmao

@liv-is dropped this GOLDMINE of relationship writing tips also TIL what Liv does for a living not sorry

@writernopal first of all made me absolutely CRY being sweet in the tags last night and also dropped an aasoaf 3 sneep while i was composing this thank you my friend i needed the energy snack

did y'all see Find the Word XVIII from @artdecosupernova-writing i'm going FERAL

@tabswrites's Silver Sentinels has a second chapter, I am VIBRATING

@oh-no-another-idea just slid in with this little diddy that i LOVE.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[rey-jake-therapist]

MY FANFICTIONS

IT'S SO COLD

BBC SHERLOCK FANFIC

SUMMARY

Picture yourself as Molly Hooper, head over heels for a man who barely notices you and when he does, it's generally to demean you. And yet you're a brilliant pathologist, a kickass woman who's carved her space in a male-dominated world. You're also the woman who helped said man fake his own death and kept his secret for two years straight. You're the woman who got engaged to a man who looked like him because no other man could ever compete. You're the woman who knows him better than he knows himself. You, Molly Hooper, are the woman Sherlock respects and loves in his own way, he just does a shitty job at showing it.

Written as a contribution to Sherlock Challenge November 2023. Prompt: 'cold'.

RATING: general audiences

PAIRINGS: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3 ⬇️

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF US (DAY 18: CHANGE)

THE SANDMAN FANFIC

SUMMARY

In the wake of Morpheus’ death, Johanna Constantine, Hob Gadling meet in a dream at the Green Dragon Tavern, where Nuala the Fairy works. They discuss the influence that Morpheus had on their lives and the love they had for him, as well as their remorses. Despite being unable to change himself, he changed them, mostly for the best.

Written as a contribution to Sandtober2023.

RATING: general audiences

PAIRINGS: references to past Morphanna, Dreamling, Sandflower and beginning of... Nualanna? (Johanna/Nuala)

TW: several mentions of a major character's death (Morpheus)

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3

BITTER SWEET LULLABY (DAY 4: FAE)

THE SANDMAN FANFIC

SUMMARY

Once upon a time, eons before Titiana became queen of Faery, Dream of the Endless -called Lord Shaper by the Fair Folk-, fell in love with a princess fae named Eleanora. While Dream has just learned that Fiddler's Green, the heart of the Dreaming, fled for the Waking World, he finds comfort in his memory of a happy moment he shared one day with the fae in the fields of Fiddler's Green, as well as the lullaby she sang to her.

Written as a contribution to Sandtober2023.

RATING: general audiences

TW: none

STATUS: complete

LINK AO3

RISE AND SHINE

THE SANDMAN/SWEETBITTER CROSSOVER

SUMMARY

It's just a short, sad but also sweet story where Jake is lost in a nightmare where he's haunted by old ghosts of his, memories of his past he needs to leave behind to finally move on. Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, is here to guide him through the darkness into the light so he can rise, and shine.

RATING: general audience

TW: references to suicide, abuse and grooming

STATUS: complete

Link AO3

LOST SOULS

A SWEETBITTER FANFICTION

SUMMARY

On Valentine's Day, Mina arrived to New York City from Los Angeles with a bag full of trauma and a half empty suitcase for only baggage. She flew to the Big Apple to see a friend and take a break from a toxic relationship, and hoped to leave a painful past that kept haunting her behind her.

Nothing went as planned, but as Mina began to think that going so far away from home was a mistake, she met a handsome stranger in a nightclub. Jake was nice, fun, incredibly sexy and apparently available. What could possibly go wrong?

RATING: explicit

PAIRING: Jake x OC

TW: references to suicide, rape, abuse, grooming and cheating

STATUS: work in progress

AO3 link

SOUNDTRACK ON SPOTIFY

THE SANDMAN META

Overture: is Dream the only one to remember?

Am I an idiot or... (Dream and food)

Could Jessamy be the first Vortex?

Hob Gadling's forgotten wives and girlfriends

Fandom and misogyny (Endless Nights spoilers)

BBC SHERLOCK META

The lying detective: self-hatred and acceptance of abuse