#this has been sitting in my drafts for three years lmao

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded. 

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas. 

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again. 

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do. 

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret. 

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.  

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine. 

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together. 

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter. 

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things. 

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray. 

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off. 

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen. 

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

 "What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?" 

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand. 

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline. 

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?" 

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her. 

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!" 

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body. 

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain. 

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air. 

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it. 

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness. 

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing. 

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night. 

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it." 

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica

[starry-bi-sky]

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”  

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”  

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing? 

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

[johnslittlespoon]

ok okokk i may be pushing it but i just cant stop picturing barry circa 2012 with leaving!bucky. i just feel like theyd have the cutest dynamic ever. he gives art student vibes like maybe hes studying film or literature. theyre childhood bestfriends and maybe they were eachother's homoerotic-codependent-friendship canon event. UGHH theyd be so cute stfuu. and maybe bucky and gale are already established and curt is just yearning for a whileee like over a year of slow burn until the three of them are a throuple... idk i just miss curtbuckbucky. you dont have to change your canon for the long fic i just needed to share this idea lmfao

au post | NO ur not pushing it this is such fun world building teehee <33 genuinely this is gonna help me later for drafting! (FUCK MY LIFE HOW IS THIS 2K WORDS. i thought i only had a few thoughts... i was so wrong. my bad chief. enjoy/suffer ig)

ok so this is so funny because i've actually been thinking ab how sweet those two would be together, cute little nerdy besties, and how they'd meet because of course curt has to be in this fic!!

and the first thing my mind went to was the cliche homoerotic codependent friendship trope too LMAO. i'm feeling like maybe they meet on the first day of highschool; neither of them share their english class with any friends, and they end up sat next to each other, and john keeps side–eyeing him because curt looks... interesting. (ie: deep into his emo phase. the fringe. the smudged eyeshadow. chipped black nail polish, band shirts– all things john does not let him live down as they grow up.)

but his eyes settle on some pin on curt's jacket that has some character from his favourite movie or something, and the yap jumps out, john can't control it. blurts out a "you like ___ too?!" and curt's head snaps over and he nods nervously and john takes one look at those big sad charcoal–ringed blue puppy eyes and is like yup. this is the one. will protect with my life.

(tiny headcanon that rly won't have a big effect on plot or anything, but i feel like it just fits very well with john/his character in leaving– dude's got madddd undiagnosed adhd. he's written off as a loud mouth/troublemaker in his childhood, but he wants to be a good kid, his mind is just always going too fast and sitting still is torture and his parents get frustrated and don't look into the root of the problem, trying to discipline it out of him instead. i will heal my inner child by healing him alright)

they're attached at the hip from that moment on and it makes sense to no one because they seem like complete opposites, curt more inclined towards the arts and bookish things and his friends are all the same, whereas john is more inclined towards athletics and science and hangs around that type of crowd as well. but they both love video games and movies and music and they bond over never really feeling like they fit in anywhere particular and both groups of friends get along just fine when they all get together. <3

but yk time goes on, they learn things about themselves as they grow up, and curt and john are so close and spend so much time together that they're already a lot closer than regular friends– they just don't realize it. they think nothing of cuddling up on the couch watching movies together, or sharing a bed when john stays over at curt's place after he gets into a fight with his parents, or being much more interested in spending time together than pursuing girls.

and curt's pretty– john nearly mistakes him for a girl that first day they meet. the summer before their senior year, john practically spends the whole summer at curt's house, and curt's mom doesn't mind; she works long hours and is glad her son isn't spending the summer moping around indoors alone, and she loves john and gets the feeling that her home is a sanctuary for him. one day they're in the backyard lazing around, and they get onto the topic of first kisses, and neither of them have had a proper relationship outside of those classic week–long middleschool flings that don't actually mean anything, so there's not much to talk about.

but being dumb teenage boys, they start worrying about "what if we're really bad at kissing and no girls wanna go with us to senior prom this year" etc. and one of them pops the suggestion of practicing together, and thus begins a summer of sweet stolen kisses and hand holding and experimenting and dancing around calling it something. it ends when the summer does because they realize that they both work better as friends, but they're as close as ever and both definitely learn they aren't straight (and they probably make a cute pact– "if we aren't in love by the time we're thirty, we'll just marry each other.")

i don't see them really doing much together because they're young and shy and inexperienced, but it's enough for john to decide that yeah, he definitely likes guys too, but that's all that really amounts to (until he meets gale) because he's growing up in a small town in wisconsin and it's not the easiest/most accepting place to find other queers. john probably ends up dating a real sweet girl during his last year of highschool, but she's going away for college and john's going to a local one so it ends amicably at the end of summer, both of them staying close friends. (if we wanna get sickeningly wholesome, maybe she ends up pining for a girl while john's pining for gale and they share their little stories and give each other advice and facetime every week to catch up <3)

(++ curt ends up falling head over heels for ken, who he meets through john when curt and john's friend groups get together for movie nights or summer parties. john pretends to be annoyed at how lovesick they are when they first start crushing, but he ends up matchmaking and being the one to push them to confess their feelings after graduation because he loves his friends.)

BUT THEN, leaving this fic's 'canon' to elaborate on the throuple stuff you said! i miss curtbuckbucky too </3

in a separate universe, curt doesn't end up with ken, and as much as he loves his friendship with john and agrees that a relationship wouldn't have worked at that time in their lives, he spends that first year of college pining. when john starts talking about some guy named gale during their second year, he's a little sad, but mostly protective, because "what do you MEAN he's in his 30s??" and "he's a BIKER?"

but john eventually introduces him to gale after a few months of telling curt about him, probably once he and gale actually start seeing each other, and curt immediately gets it. and then he's in double–hell because not only is he a bit (a lot) in love with his best friend, but he's blushing every time said best friend's new bf talks to him, and they're gonna notice eventually if they haven't already and he feels so guilty.

more yearning ensues and john is dense and doesn't realize but gale picks up on it, maybe even notices john doing a bit of pining of his own that john's not fully aware of. and his heart twists because his mind goes to his own insecurities about how john should be seeing someone his own age, so he sits john down and opens up a conversation about it. john is adamant that he's very, very happy with gale, but he tells gale about his and curt's past and admits that he has always still had feelings for him, but insists that it's not something he'd ever pursue, that he values curt's friendship more.

gale throws him off by saying he wouldn't mind if john wanted to explore those feelings, and at first john gets anxious gale is calling things off with the two of them and this is his way of softening the blow, but gale reassures him that's not the case, that he's very happy with their relationship. he just encourages that if he wants to talk to curt and feel things out, he wouldn't be opposed to john and curt seeing each other as well– gale's often busy, after all, so it would be nice for john to have someone else, as long as curt's comfortable with that kind of arrangement and as long as john keeps gale in the loop.

they decide to kinda just feel it out as they go, but soon enough gale starts coming home from work every so often to find the two of them curled up on his couch together, sweet and innocent. curt's wary at first, always slightly detaching himself from john when gale's around, but gale is always friendly and doesn't change up his routine, settling on the couch at john's other side like it's not a big deal at all, wanting to show curt he's welcome there, not wanting john to feel guilty.

it's another scenario where lines just sorta start to blur over time, curt spending a lot of time over at gale's house, and gale sees the way curt looks at him, probably noticed it from the first time they met but chalked it up to nerves at the time. curt's an angel and he's grown quite fond of him, but he doesn't want to overstep, so he leaves it up to curt, thinking maybe the boy will mention it to john one day and john will in turn come to gale to talk about it.

and eventually that happens, just like gale thought it might. curt's just gone home and john's head is in his lap on the couch while they watch tv, and john asks "what do you think about curt?" and gale tells him that he's sweet and he loves how much john smiles when he's around him, the usual. "so you like him?" john pushes, and gale immediately has a feeling where this conversation is going, drags his eyes away from the tv to look down at john.

says "of course" easily, and lets john take his time forming his thoughts. john ends up telling him that he and curt were fooling around earlier while gale was at work (and god help gale for the images that puts in his head) and that he'd made some offhand comment about how curt better hurry up if he doesn't want gale to come home and catch him half naked on their couch. and john's all shy when he says "and curt, uh. y'know. that... did it for him" with a vague gesture LOL. gale never fails to find it amusing how certain things can fluster john to talk about after all they've done together.

"so, anyway. i asked him about it after, if it was a coincidence, and he was real shy about it, but he did admit after a whole lot of apologizing that he likes you." gale listens to him nervously get his words out, petting his hair encouragingly, waits for him to be done before he asks "how do you feel about that?" only to watch the flush return when john mumbles "it's hot."

this is getting sooo long i need to take away my own typing privileges, but basically that's how things would start between the three of them– john and gale agree that gale will let himself be a bit flirty with curt and see how curt takes it. obviously this goes a little too well when curt gets hot and bothered sat between john and gale during a movie night with john's hand on his knee and gale's arm resting on the couch behind him while he plays with curt's hair.

the movie is forgotten when gale's finger catches on a tangled curl and curt doesn't bite back the little whine that slips out in time and john's head snaps over and he mumbles a "fuck" when he realizes what's happened, and his lack of filter comes out to play when he turns to curt and asks "curt, can gale kiss you?" and curt turns to gale with big doll eyes and nods.

john ends up palming himself over his shorts as he watches gale coax curt into his lap, face hot and pupils blown as he gets to see both his guys make out in front of him, almost dizzy seeing curt get so shy and needy and pliant because when it's just the two of them, he and curt are both very balanced in their dynamic. they've been such close friends for so long that not much gets the other truly shy like that, and they're always quick to voice their wants and crack jokes while fooling around and all. so to see curt get so flustered in that way with gale has him lightheaded, and by the time they all collapse into gale's bed at the end of the night, john's convinced this is the best decision he's ever made.

there's a lot of pining on curt's end because for a while it's kinda just sex when it's the three of them, and he loves it but he also finds himself wanting more but feeling too scared to voice it because he feels like he's intruding. but eventually they all get their shit sorted out; curt fits into their relationship just right in a way gale and john never intended or expected, and gale falls for curt just as much as john has and curt does the same with gale.

gale's got two sweet things glued to his side now and man, do they ever give him a run for his money, and if he'd thought john had too much energy (and stamina) it's nothing compared to keeping up with both of them, but he wouldn't have it any other way. <3

throuple things won't be happening in the actual fic, but i do love the idea of exploring the dynamic the three of them might have in a spin–off of that au so this was rly fun thx :-) maybe i'll write a pwp oneshot set in that universe as an excuse to write more curtbuckbucky once the fic is done LOL we'll see!

[vacantgodling]

sjaak facts? *rattles tin* spare sjaak facts?

EEEE SJAAK FACTS YIPPEE!!!!!!!

tw: slavery jumpscare

-i haven’t said it formally yet but sjaak is 23 as of the events of btaf (1811) ; he was born in 1788, was turned into a werewolf in 1808 so he’s been a werewolf for 3 years — probably 2 and some change, cuz idk what actual Month he was born in (i have yet to make an actual timeline wanna feel everything out first before i start REALLY hammering the dates down, but i do know the gist). honestly when i think back to myself at 23, this explains most of his nonsensical behavior HFJFJF

-he is black & dutch. i may have mentioned it before but to fully explain tl;dr his mother was born a slave and was subsequently freed when her former master brought her to the netherlands and during this time period slavery had been abolished so she was good. she still lived as a laborer and worked at a rich man’s estate for poor money. sjaak’s father was actually the master of that estate his mother worked in and his Actual Wife worked sjaak’s mother to death out of jealousy p much. she died when he was 13 and Also explains many of his fucking issues 🤷🏽‍♂️

-first description i have of sjaak in draft 2 bc fuck it he handsome:

the person sitting astride her is hard to make out in the moonlight, but the moonlight reflects like a mirror off of his darkened, wet skin. his eyes are dark but its deep like the pits of an unseen hole, with no sheen in them other than the tears perhaps left unshed. his hands are gripping his pants leg so tightly that they’re near ripped. his hair tumbles out his face in wild, kinky waves, the wetter ends slimming out into stringy strands, that are immune to the frizz that takes root of the middle. his lips are plush and full and his nose wide and strong, and his lashes dark and beautiful almost feminine in their fullness. he wears a simple uniform, reminiscent of the french militia, but it looks somewhat tight on him, as though it is these mere threads of fabric that are holding him back from bursting at the seams entirely. some parts of it appear to be caked in blood.

-when his hair is dry it has looser but still kinky curls and since it’s been a few years since he’s had a haircut it falls into his eyes. like this probably (sorry the quality is ass i just wanted yall to see the hair texture)

-in the first 26 pages of draft 2 he has thrown himself to the ground sobbing twice LMAOOO there will be more :)

-sjaak has killed three people up until the beginning of the book but it’s the fourth one at the end of the book that’s REALLY gonna make him feel a way :DDD

-sjaak is left handed but right pawed in his werewolf form lol

-azelie was his first time. the only nut he’s ever had as a human lmao 💀 (i rotate this scene in my head a LOOOOT tbh…. i should write it at some point fbdjfjdj)

-even though biscella doesn’t know how to read or write, sjaak has known from a young age, his mother taught him :3c

that’s all the ones i can think of right this second—i’m tired bc of being on the bus + it’s rainy and i just pretty much reread all of btaf’s draft 1 again LOL 💀💀 i just ugHhh i need this to be written already. but thank you for asking!!

[ladysomething]

Hello there lovely human 💛

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

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

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

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

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

hi!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sssammich]

hello quizno’s! :D

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

💋 so about this rojascorp you mentioned…….

:D

lmao thank you sidetwang

thanks for copying and pasting for my benefit

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

hmm idk actually; they're mostly probably wips from fandoms that i have since left or just never knew what to do with. that's kinda boring, but there really aren't, like, secret wips. i try to finish my wips even if it takes weeks/months/years. for example, there's a grief fic i wanna write about for revue starlight that's been sitting in the lazy susan since 2022 and i think i'm only now ready to write it.

but there are also some wips that i think have just passed its time and that i probably won't touch again (but never say never!)

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

oh very well this is actually for my rosebird (summer rose/raven branwen from rwby) divorce AU that i was thinking about; was able to write out like 2k of it this past weekend. i'll post the snippets after the cut because i am sometimes considerate. and also i just decided to make it a little baby love triangle with vernal because i am so nice

and also because you probably do not give a shit about that, i added a snippet for a supercorp romcom i am thinking about!

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

god uh idk what do my readers hate? please tell me anonymous is turned on

thinking about this though i guess maybe i enjoy using 'says' or 'said' 98% of the time and maybe my readers hate that honestly im not sure just tell me it's fine yall can be honest

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

lol what does this even mean!!

uh i mean i would say dickfic has some potentially incriminating mail tampering crimes and maybe dolores is not so wholly innocent so who knows

(am i an idiot? please tell me if i did this bit wrong)

💋 so about this rojascorp you mentioned…….

which one? the sad one or the happy one?

sad one: it's based off of a sad song and i am very excited about that. it's a breakup fic, im just gonna be upfront about that

happy one: it's a reunion and a coming back together.

they're modern AUs i think because im incapable of writing any real AUs

oh maybe that's something my readers hate, that i can't write AUs lol but i enjoy them

ANYWAY thanks for sendimg me these questions

fanfic ask game

fic snippets below the cut

rosebird snippet:

She's not immune to cabin fever, so she leaves the wreckage of her house and drives her truck downtown, parking it right in front of one of the three competing bars they have on Main Street.

When she pushes the glass door forward, the bell above it rings. She glances up, looks at the patina of the metal before meeting the bartender's eye.

Without a single word, Raven walks up to the corner of the bar just as the bartender approaches with a rag thrown over her shoulder.

"What're you having?"

"Just a beer for now."

"What kind?"

"Whatever's available."

The bartender studies her, but Raven just scans the room before taking a seat on the empty stool. She watches as the bartender takes a glass and flips it right side up before placing it under the draft spigot, tilted to the side until only a sliver of foam sits at the very top.

"Tab?" the bartender asks just as she places the glass in front of Raven.

Raven nods just before taking a sip of her beer.

The bartender leaves her alone, especially when a gaggle of girls walk in for some type of girls' night out. Her red eyes trail after the giggling movements of the six women sitting around one of the big tables towards the center of the open room. The regulars pay them no mind, even as their volume increases.

She scowls when a group of young guys filter through the bar and multiply the volume when they meet with the young women already there. So much so that she downs her scotch and orders for another.

The bartender quietly places another glass in front of hers, smirking at her, like they're sharing a secret. She just nods, pushes the empty glass from her hands in exchange.

"You new around here?" the bartender asks, leaning forward on her left side, her sleeve tattoo in full display. She's a bit on the younger side for Raven's tastes, but her short pixie cut and pale blue eyes have caught her attention.

"Depends."

"Haven't seen you around here before. I'd notice."

She lets out a small amused chuckle, wonders how much this woman believes this line she's giving Raven. "New enough."

"Where do you live?"

"That's at least a four drink question, and we're only on two."

The bartender plucks two shot glasses from underneath the counter and pours rum into both of them. She then slides one by Raven's hand, nodding towards it when she grabs hold of the one in front of her.

She plays along and grabs the shot glass, holds it up where the bartender clinks it and keeps her eyes steady when they both shoot, their hands dropping at the same time onto the counter.

"Now that's four," the bartender states.

Raven shakes her head at this woman's audacity all while the heat of the rum courses down her stomach. "You don't need to worry about where I live."

The bartender laughs at having been bested. She's just about to say something to Raven when someone calls for her, the name Vernal coming out from one of the regulars at the opposite end of the bar.

"Duty calls," Vernal says before retrieving the shot glasses and placing them in some bin under the counter. Raven doesn't say anything, just watches the woman leave to take care of the other patrons.

For the next ten minutes, she watches Vernal walk the length of the bar to create and serve so many drinks at once. It's impressive, all told. Every now and again, she catches Vernal turning towards her, like making sure she hasn't left yet. She doesn't, not right away, happy to nurse her beer. At one point, Vernal throws her a wink when she sees Raven's eyes dip down to her ass only to come back when their eyes meet. She's only a little bit ashamed, but she doesn't react, just takes a sip of the last dregs of her drink.

When the last drop of her beer passes through her lips, she quietly places her glass on the counter. Slowly, she slips her hand to the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a few folded bills. It's not until she sees Vernal preoccupied with some new customers that she decides to slink away from the bar, tucking her payment and generous tip under her empty glass.

She slips out right behind a couple definitely on a date walks in.

supercorp romcom snippet:

When Lena finds a stack of mail on her desk first thing Monday morning, she doesn’t expect a wedding invitation. Glancing at the K. Danvers at the top corner of the envelope, she frowns when nothing comes to mind with that name. She thinks perhaps it’s one of her employees that she’s just not familiar with. With a smooth swipe of her gold albatross-designed letter opener, she opens the envelope and tugs at the card inside.

She’s surprised to find the invitation reaching her desk, since Jess normally screens these letters for her

Her eyes furrow in confusion when she reads the card.

You are cordially invited to the wedding between Kara Zor-El Danvers and Future Spouse

That gives Lena pause. Future spouse?

She skims through the rest of the wedding details. She then presses the intercom button for her secretary.

“Jess?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor?”

She rolls her eyes at her secretary’s adamant insistence of referring to her by her last name despite her efforts to have Jess call her Lena.

“Can you run the name Kara Danvers through our employee roster?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor. I’ll send it right away.”

When she hangs up, she turns to the smaller card insert with the RSVP request. Her first inclination is to decline, if not altogether just hand the entire thing to Jess to take care of. Yet it’s the term Future Spouse that has her pausing, her curiosity quite piqued at the thought of a mystery spouse. Does this Kara Danvers not really know?

With a thoughtful tap of the card against her chin, she decides there’s no reason to expend energy thinking about it now. She’ll find out soon enough when Jess gets back to her.

[christmascheeseballs]

Till Death Do Us Part  – An Arthur Morgan x OC Story *PART TWO*

Content Warnings – Kidnapping, Death Threats, Micah Bell, Trauma, Angst, Character Deaths, Eventual Happy Ending (not in this part), Reference to torture, reference to sexual assault, not described, one brief mention of both

Word Count – 1.7k

Part One - 1.3k words (17th July 2024)

Part Two - 1.7k words (17th July 2024)

Part Three - 1.2k words (19th July 2024)

Authors Note – I’m so sorry for the confusion of Bonnie the horse and Bonnie MacFarlane in this – my horse irl is a Belgian draft, and I thought it would be cute to put her in this but it just ended up confusing lmao

-x-

7 years later

February 16th, 1907

I found this old journal today while looking through my Arthur’s things. Me and Bea moved into our new home about 6 months ago now, and I finally had the chance to sit and go through all of our old belongings. I found Arthur’s journal, and after spending a few days crying over his sweet notes, all his loving words about me etched delicately with his careful script, I decided to start sharing my own thoughts. Share my problems to someone other than Bea or Bonnie. 

We now live on a ranch, west of Blackwater. God it feels strange to be back in this area again. After leaving Abigail and the others in Oregon all those years ago (I miss them all so much), myself and Darcy, my sweet girl, headed across the country to find somewhere safe to have my baby. We settled in North California, just on the border. While the busier state was helpful for delivering my baby, my country soul could not cope and we soon continued south. Hopping from place to place, we have finally found a home. Its been a lonely few years, and I haven’t seen Abigail or any of the others since those fateful days. As far as John and the others know, I either ran away or died out on the trails. It breaks my heart to break theirs, but needs must.

As I said, we now live on a ranch west of Blackwater - MacFarlane’s Ranch. While Bea is cared for my some of the local ladies, who enjoy teaching her to read and write, I spend my days in the corral, training the horses that the owners of the ranch bring in. I can still remember the days when my Arthur first taught me to ride, all those years ago. And now here I am, teaching horses how to take care of their riders, teaching young fillies and colts all the groundwork to set them up for life. I’m quite a horsewoman nowadays!

Speaking of horses; my sweet Darcy was retired 2 years ago now, and I have managed to organise for her to have her own paddock on the ranch to live out her days. I know that retiring a horse ain’t all that common round here, but Miss MacFarlane seemed to have a soft spot for my sweet mare. My heart genuinely aches when I bring her in from her paddock to check her over, and my sweet Bea runs over to see her, clamouring to ride. I allow her to sit on her while I walk back to the field, but that is all. She has the passion for horses that her daddy had, and that I’ve tried to continue for him.

My new horse is a stunning and versatile red roan Belgian Draft mare named Bonnie - I purchased her from a fellow in Montana at the same time as retiring Darcy, so I can promise that her having the same name as Miss MacFarlane is pure coincidence! Bonnie (the horse, that is) is such a perfect mare for my little family - she can drive us to the local town with the wagon, and also allow me to use her to ride, and even teach Bea to ride! I thought I’d struggle finding a horse as perfect as Darcy, but Bonnie sure ain’t that far off. Although, have a horse as stocky as a draft horse after years of riding a fine thoroughbred is definitely a difference!

I truly hope we can find happiness here. 

Florence Morgan

-x-

On the 25th May, 1900, Beatrice Abigail Morgan was born in the state of California, to Mrs Florence Morgan. And now, at nearly 7 years old, the two of you had settled down into the ranching lifestyle, with Bea finally given the chance to go to a proper school and learn to read and write.

Whilst life hadn’t been kind to the either of you over the past few years, you truly felt you’d found a place you could finally settle in. MacFarlane’s Ranch was a simple but efficient farm, with a well established cattle and equine business. While the men handled the cattle, a position had opened up in the training and husbandry of the horses; when you saw the role in the papers, you had nearly screamed. Especially when you saw the gleaming words “house available for successful applicant”. It was practically made for you. 

Now, your days consisted of waking up early; avoiding waking up Bea; feeding all the horses in the stables; sneaking back home; giving Bea her breakfast and sending her off to school with Mrs Nelson across the road; backing, exercising, and being thrown off countless different horses; ideally selling a couple to clients; before collecting Bea and preparing dinner before bed. 

A simple enough life, but busy enough to keep your mind free from the ghosts of your past. 

Free until nightfall, that is. That is when your mind filled with panic, dread, and guilt. Guilt for your husband, being left alone all those years ago to die to the hands of Micah Bell. You never got to visit his grave - as far as you know, he never got one. Dread and panic at the sickening gut feeling you had in the base of your stomach that something would happen; and soon. Years of running and fighting finally catching up with you.

-x-

You were used to waking up in a cold sweat, but tonight was different, your fears felt more daunting, more real – you awoke, gasping from the night terrors that plagued you, trying to steady your breathes and keep Bea asleep, her small body in the room next to yours. As your panicked gasps subsided, you swung your legs out of your cot, a daunting weight sitting heavily on your shoulders. As your eyes adjust to the darkness in your room, you glance at the clock. Despite feeling like you had been trying to fall into a sleep for hours, it was barely 1am.

A deep sigh left you as you stood, taking yourself into your small kitchen to pour yourself a mug of water. Standing at the window, you glance outside towards the corral, a small smile etching itself onto your face when you spot Bonnie led down, fast asleep. You envied her.

Looking past the corral, you spotted a group of pale, flickering lights – lanterns, you thought – moving swiftly towards the ranch. This wouldn’t be the first time bandits attacked the ranch, and would likely not be the last. You sigh, this must've been the gut feeling you had minutes before. Before the lights could get any closer, you grabbed your coat, covering your chemise, and shoved your feet into your boots. You picked up your Lancaster Repeater, the one Arthur used and lovingly cared for until passing it onto you, and dashed towards the MacFarlane’s farm house.

Hammering on the door, adrenaline rushed through your veins as you waited for the family to wake up. A shadowed figure appeared in the doorway of the farm house. “Florence? What’s goi-”, she stopped, realisation spreading across her face as she spotted the threat approaching the ranch. She grasped her rifle by the door, a serious expression setting in her face.

A fight was on your hands

-x-

The attackers had shocked you, at first. Whilst there were various casualties, they had not come in guns blazing, seemingly searching for something rather than being out for the kill. Their masked faces surveyed the area, before one man – which hauntingly familiar eyes - stopped on your figure, hidden slightly behind a cart in front of the corral. He stopped, and stared, before nodding at something behind you.

Next thing you knew, a pair of greasy hands wrapped themselves around you, one of them covering your mouth, the stench filling your nostrils, the other bringing a knife to your throat. Bonnie gave you a panic stricken look, her eyes darting over to your homestead. Big mistake. The man holding you spotted this look, and chucked – a sneer that you’d never thought you’d have the displeasure of hearing again.

“Go get her brat, Dutch.”

2 months later

As if life hadn’t been hard on you already for as long as you could remember, the past few weeks were just the cherry on top. After being kidnapped by Micah Bell, you were beaten, tortured, and taken advantage of on an almost daily basis. Fed the bare minimum to survive. As much as your blood boiled with anger when you saw the face of Dutch Van Der Linde, you had to thank him. He was able to keep Micah and his men away from Bea, a soft look appearing in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on her.

Although you hoped that you could sense the guilt when he glanced at you, he couldn’t bring himself to keep them away from you as well.

When you first realised it was Dutch seemingly orchestrating the attack on MacFarlane’s Ranch, you saw red – but could do nothing about it. Micah pressed the blade closer to the skin of your neck, breaking through the first few layers as you hissed in pain under his hand. Dutch turned towards your house, coming back out minutes later with a trembling Beatrice Morgan. But he looked pained.

Now, after being captured and tortured for the past few months, you knew that Dutch was as trapped as you were. Whilst you held no true sympathy for him, you knew that he did not take a part of your capture willingly.

As the days went on, you slowly begun shutting down, loosing any hope of rescue. You knew that Bonnie and her father, the sweet family that they were, would’ve tried to find you at first, but you also knew it was a helpless task. After taking you from the ranch, the group had travelled west, settling in western Texas for a few weeks. They had then moved east again, back towards New Hanover – but for some unknown reason decided to settle in the mountains of Ambarino.

Heavy snow and biting cold plagued you every day, as you clutched onto Bea, giving her the scraps of any food you were scarcely given, trying to have her eat as much as she could. Even Dutch sneaked her a few thinning blankets on one particularly frigid night. You were at a true loss of what could be done. Until one fateful morning, a gravely, and scarily familiar voice rang out from the mountains outside.

“Micah, if you’re in here, come out”

-x-

Thanks for reading, please like, comment and reblog <3

[manias-wordcount]

HI & THANK YOU FOR 5.5k FOLLOWERS

i'm gonna pretend like i haven't been meaning to post this for about a week now (whoops) but i wanted to say thank you everyone for 5,500 followers!!! im literally just a girl so its crazy to see how far my work has gone and how many people enjoy my shit enough to spare a follow!

so i wanted to thank everyone for their support, including those who like, comment, reblog, or just plain lurk on my blog without (or with LMAO) an account. it means whole lot to me!

also apologizes to anyone who put in a request before april 1st of this year and still haven't received it. i put out requests every three days and it's just now hitting how crazy of a backlog that can create if i get a lot of request at any given time period. as of right now, i have 7 drafts prepared (hopefully will make it to 9 in a couple of hours but we'll see), and about 17??? more requests to go so it's coming along but very, very slowly smh

but yeah! thanks again everyone for all the followers! :} ok back to the grind (sitting on my laptop in bed lol). mania out, deuces

[matthewmurdockswife]

best friends brother with matt sturniolo?

Best friends brother x matt sturniolo

It was actually chris who had introduced me to matt we’ve now been together for almost two years and I agreed to let the fans in on more of our life so we decided to do a Q&A video

Nick introduced the video and after a few minutes of us messing around the questions started “Ok so someone asked if you were to get married would matt move out from the triplet house” chris recited the question from his phone “ No” was all matt had awnsered “ I’m pretty sure if we got married I’d just move in with them” I said as I watched matt “ I think y/n has grown as attached to us at matt is” nick jokes but we all knew it wasnt a joke I loved being here And I Loved matt and his brothers were my support system I cant imagine what I would do without them they’re always there for me. “Okay next question how did you guys meet?” Nick reads off of his phone“I started this” chris sighs in a mockingly upset tone and i punch him in the arm jokingly “ Thats true I was best friends with chris long before I met nick and matt I knew I liked matt about 3 months after we met when we started hanging out one on one and I got to really know matt as a person and the rest became history” I smiled holding matts hand knowing I was so lucky to have met him and be with such an amazing, giving and loving person“and next week we hit our 2 year anniversary” matt smiles at me “Gross” nick says watching in disgust I move out of the way as the triplets do their outro and sit on the couch chris and matt comes and joins me while nick sits in the chair.“ two years is wild” chris says trying to initiate conversation “ crazy to think that ive known you longer than that” I laugh at chris

“ you’re old” I joke him he mock pouts and pretends to be angry while I look over at the love of my life next to me kicking his brother, my best friend in the leg I dont know how fate placed me into this but im so grateful to able to be with people as amazing as the three boys that sit in front of me today laughing and joking around like ive been with them their whole lives

Im even more grateful for matt the beautiful boy who sits next to me holding my hand and hugs me whenever I feel like the world is falling apart, matt knows how to fix me, he knows me.

a/n yall this shit from the VAULT shes been in my drafts forever lmao sorry i forgot abt them

@stvrni0lo @dwntwn-strnlo @fenoy7

[chayscribbles]

chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ june 2023

☆ STATISTICS.

words written: 13 022

projects worked on: Andromeda Rogue mostly but i've been swatting at Shiny New Ideas left and right with a tennis racket. also i thought about Gemini Heist really really hard and i think that counts for something

proudest accomplishment: AR1 draft 2 is done!!!!!!

books read: After Atlas by Emma Newman; Everyone In My Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson; Exit Strategy (Murderbot Diaries #4) by Martha Wells. all excellent reads. (sidenote two out of three of these books involve murder investigations and the third has murder in the title. i'm sensing a theme in my reading.)

☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.

i am still terrible at being consistent at writeblr-ing. i guess this is just my life now.

i'm debating using camp nano to actually hunker my ass down and get some writing done on gemini heist, but between work and apartment hunting and a possible move by the end of the month i don't know how feasible that's gonna be :') we'll see.

and no i'm not glossing over the fact that i have a finished second draft. i'm just saving my screaming for below the cut.

more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft 2)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(i wasn't kidding about the screaming.)

so this draft now sits at 85.7K, which is about 11.8K added from the first, and although it is still faaar from perfect it is definitely... better than the draft i finished 2 years ago. it's insane how much my writing has improved, between all the reading i've been doing and first drafting the two sequels of the trilogy.

that being said there still are a lot of things i know need to be fixed, but i'm at the point where if i try to fix them on my own i'll be stuck on them forever.

enter the betas!!! i'm planning on doing an ~official~ beta call next week but honestly if you're interested in beta-ing this book feel free to hmu right away!! ultimately i want to self-pub this thing (which is quite overwhelming to think about hhhhh) but one thing at a time :')

☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.

i really couldn't decide what snippet to post so this was admittedly chosen a bit at random lmao. this is from when the gang is approaching their destination for their expedition.

On the external display, Mohani loomed ahead, growing larger every second. The planet was almost entirely a deep blue, except for some white spots at its poles. It reminded Finneas of his final glimpse of Ghillairde when he was leaving it behind for the last time. For a disorienting second, it almost felt like he was returning to his birth planet. But soon, the ship was close enough to see the sandy outline of the continents. The blue wasn’t all ocean. Some of it was trees. He directed the ship towards the landing coordinates just as Petra arrived in the bridge, clutching several barf bags. “Good to see you’ve come prepared, Lacroye,” he commented. “You’re already looking green, and we haven’t even entered the atmosphere yet.” She grumbled something unintelligible in response as she took her place in the copilot’s chair.

one of my editing notes for draft 2 was to make Petra's starsickness worse😆

☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to any of them.

general taglist:

@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore @innocentlymacabre

andromeda trilogy taglist:

@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa @outpost51

[bi-dykes]

How do you get into the perspective of your OC(s)? What were the first few things you did to get into their character and understand them better?

I absolutely love this question bc it led to me re reading my own work 😂

I somehow got to my my characters very well without ever putting my book in first person. It’s all third person, sub for one character who breaks the fourth wall and sometimes speaks without quotation marks.

I was inspired by Shannon Hale’s run of Ever After High (Ever After High has at least three different book series by three different authors, plus a Netflix tv series- it’s like a miniature MCU but with better characterization lmao) and I can arguably say that Shannon Hale has the best material on all of Ever After High.

Here is an example (the image is sourced from Etsy) of how a character breaks the containment of using proper formatting of quotation marks and speaks directly to the narrator

I do this as well. Different font, and then I write it like a text message going back and forth, disregarding quotation marks or proper formatting. However this only happens a couple of times per book for my character, and a handful (4-5) times in Ever After High.

I know my characters far too well. The main eight are like children to me, I know their deepest desire and darkest fear and coping mechanism and guilty pleasure. I have been with them for over 5 years without finishing my novel. The time has been spent with making playlists and drawing pictures and creating Pinterest boards and writing things that I don’t intend to publish or include in the final manuscript (hehehe fanfiction by the author) because I simply like to explore them in different situations. My books are going to be in third person, but I ocassionally write in first person, even if I’m planning on just deleting it, because I just like to practice getting in my characters’ heads when I have writers block.

I follow the “worst” writing advice ever. I base many traits for my OCs off of myself, which could be seen as making them Mary Sues. I write them like real people, adding in stupid dialogue of them stuttering or accidentally interrupting one another and then saying “oh sorry, you go first”. I write smut about my favourite OC ships knowing that I’ll never include it in the final draft of my book, just because I want to write about what’s happening “off screen” and what my characters are doing when the reader isn’t looking (although there are indeed some sex scenes in my book, I do like to write additional ones that aren’t nearly as eloquent or have any plans to include it in the published novel). I started my second draft before my first draft was finished, solely because I understood my writing style had improved so abruptly and the characters had evolved so much, I needed to start fresh. I look in the mirror and act out my character’s conversations with one another or their fight scenes or how they wave their hands around like Elsa conjuring magic. I take breaks for months and when I finally sit down and write, I’ll either write 5 words, or 2205 words in one sitting, and not often anything in between.

I have horrible writing advice, and I suggest you take any of it that you’d like or that resonated with you, because it has brought me so much joy in my life and has helped me gradually get to know my characters like new friends who become family.

I’ve been told that my writing “flows like butter” which is so odd because I juggle 4 protagonists, 2 antagonists, and 2 deuteragonists. They don’t “all fit”, but they all have a role to play. Like the delicious fries on the side of the burger, the whole meal. Your characters don’t need to be stars. They just need to be memorable. And I know they will be. Your mind is more capable than you think.

Like honestly, just word vomit on the page and write silly stuff. It will be the most human, glorious, flawed, messy, endearing, and passionate writing you’ll see. Just go create chaos. And play with your characters like Barbie dolls. In a little while, you’ll know them like you know yourself.

At the end of the day, anything you write will be an achievement because you took nothing and turned it into something, transformed a blank page into a series of words and letters. That’s god behaviour right there. Even if it’s shitty writing, you created it from scratch.

But also, don’t worry about setting deadlines and timelines. I’ve been at this since grade 10 and now I’m in university and I’m still not done. Let your characters marinate and soak and rest in your mind. Let them grow. There is no rush. All is well 💜 and one day your characters will grow like little plants from seeds 🫂🫂🫂💕💕💕 just be patient with yourself, and have fun with getting to know your characters!

[noahtally-famous]

Tell me about Picking Petals and that time travel AU of TDPI

Is the elimination order different, or does it go the same way as canon?

oh my godddd this ask has been sitting in my drafts for two months now i think?? ive been holding back on answering this bc i wanted to be in the right environment where i can infodump without getting interrupted. im so so super sorry for the long wait, i hope my response makes up for it!!

first of all, TYSM FOR THE ASK DUDE heads up you're gonna prob get a longass ramble abt this from me so yeah lmao without further ado, lets get into it!

PICKING PETALS:

the fic loml, the first EVER td fic i thought up and I've three chapters prewritten for it, half of the fic planned out/outlined, and so many scenes, moments, interactions, etc for it thought up. i'd gotten back into the fandom and while rewatching tdpi for the first time in 7 years i came up with this idea.

started off as purely self-indulgent bc i wanted to write my spin on the truth or scare episode, and then it turned into all this and im so living for it!!

dashawn-centric, obv. it veers off-course from canon during and after episode 4 (the truth or scare one). the overarching plot is 'what if dave and shawn kissed for the scare, and all the shenanigans that followed with getting feelings for someone you didn't expect all bc of one (1) kiss--as well as some other stuff that snowballs from it bc its total drama'. this is TOTALLY canon divergent. the elimination order is 90% different from canon. the characters get way more depth to the point where they may seem like different ppl with only their canon stereotypes reminding them of who they are in canon (not different as in like ooc btw before anyone jumps to that conclusion, i meant different as in a lot of the characters get more of a personality than what canon gave them lmao). a lot of my dave lore spawned thanks to this fic. dave, himself, gets such a fucking glowup from the 2D version of him canon gave while still retaining his 'normal guy' persona. same with shawn tbh, i love the expansion I've done for the characters in this fic ngl, but personally i love how dave turned out

dave & ella friendship, dave & sky friendship, background jasammy, jasmine & shawn friendship, sammy & shawn friendship, mild sammy & dave camaderie/friendship, sammy & amy development, dave & topher rivalry interactions, dave & scarlett interactions, shawn & topher rivalry, the final three being a ball of tension bc of enmity (i wont say who they are), ella getting her development, dives into character backstories and why they auditioned for td, tensionnn of all kinddd, dramaaa of all kinddd, scarlett's evilness actually being foreshadowed before the Great Reveal, etc etc the list just keeps on going!! these folks are gonna have tdi vibes--they're going to act like teens and befriend each other (or hate each other) bc canon tdpi sorely lacked that and imo the pi cast exudes found family vibes

due to how variant the elimination order is, i literally had to create two new challenges for two of the chapters, esp post-merge bc chris was interjecting himself into practically all the challenges in canon lmaoo also tdpi's eliminations were annoying bc why were there two double eliminations for literally no reason? that's gonna change here as well; no double eliminations, and there's gonna be a variant of elimination types (for example: there's gonna be a 'character is too injured to compete therefore obligatory elimination' type happening in this fic--hmmm i wonder who'll be behind the injury... and some more "scandalous" types bc this is total drama, it's not gonna live up to its name if there aren't any eliminations that are 'unfair'!)

starts from ep4 all the way to the finale--and speaking of the finale, the finalists are partly different from canon too. like i said, nearly everything diverges from canon to a degree. i kind of went nuts with this fic lmao its my bby, i treasure it with my heart, i want to write more for it, i want to publish it so badly, but my goal is to get at least 20 chapters into agtsta before publishing picking petals (tho idk i think that plan might change...im considering maybe giving myself breathing time to get more prewriting done until january before starting the new year off right with some picking petals posting!)

REWIND, REPEAT:

the time-travel au fic!! its still heavily in the works so im basically spitballing ideas here, but im thinking of two options.

dave time-travel route:

initially my idea for this fic (can you tell i love putting dave in situations? that boy deserves to be spun in a mixing bowl), and it'd be interesting bc he's sort of like an anti-villain?? bc its directly after the finale when he gets left behind and attacked by scuba bear. he comes across some malfunctioning tech on the island while running away and BOOM next thing he knows he's somehow zapped back to where and when it started--on the blimp at the very beginning of the season. so he is still reeling from everything that occurred and naturally he isn't feeling too lightly abt the whole ordeal

some of my mutuals may know this, but when i was like 10 and watched tdpi for the first time, i made notes for a season 2 au; it involved a personality shift for dave (even when i was 10 he was one of my favs). my idea in the notes was that he became a hollyleaf, if you know warrior cats lmao; he's more reserved, there's this inner turmoil and energy coiled in him, he's an enigma, he doesn't open up much, he has this Dark Secret vibe surrounding him, but he's also clever and will do anything to get to his goal and he has extensive knowledge of the island due to his time on there. this personality remains the same more or less in this fic. the catch is dave acts more in a villainy way but he doesn't rlly have what it takes to be a villain even though a part of him wants to (hence anti-villain). as much as he pretends he doesn't, he still has emotions--just heavily barricaded, and those emotions prevent him from fully losing his head. he forms an alliance with scarlett (and maybe topher??? idk why i love that trio sm, they would be so iconic when it came to villainy; bonus if sugar informally joins too, not as like a set part of their group tho bc she has her own agenda) and has one goal in mind: to get sky eliminated. gone is the lovestruck fool, he's revenge-driven and says he doesn't have time for love bc he's in it for the competition. (idk yet if there will be love interests for him or if this is just gonna be a dave-centric fic). the finalists are prob gonna be dave and sky bc that'd be fucking iconic after the build-up

shawn & dave friendship, topher & dave alliance, scarlett & dave alliance, sugar & dave hesitant alliance, sky & dave one-sided enmity, ella & dave friendship, maybe more depth abt beardo?? or leonard?? jasmine & dave mutual wariness and distrust, chris absolutely loving this version of dave

sammy time-travel route:

development (lots of development!) on sammy's end as well as her relationship with her sister amy. she'll prob be a finalist too?? or at least in the final four/three, and idk i want it to be a sammy & amy finale but idk if that's too cliche lmaoo i think it'd be interesting!

this one's different. shortly after tdpi ended, sammy partakes in a "controlled experiment" with several other teens with the reward of getting paid a somewhat hefty amount. she decides why not, seems simple enough, but when it's her turn there's a fluke and she gets chucked back in time to the beginning of tdpi (which was the last thing she'd been thinking abt before the experiment). however, maybe one or two episodes in, she decides to take charge in the situation she's going through and adopts a 'fuck it we ball' attitude abt the whole thing where she tries to be a different person--the kind of person she's always aspired to be like but amy had always belittled her for--and this makes her less of a pushover overtime and instead more bolder and persistent in getting as far as she can.

she makes new friends that she hadnt noticed or gotten the chance to become closer with when she initially was on the show. maybe ella & sammy friendship, jasammy, either scamy or scarlett & amy 'we're gonna betray each other' alliance OR scarlett & sammy 'friendship' OR a scarlett using manipulative tactics to play both sisters, etc etc.

both her version and dave's versions of this fic idea are different bc neither of them are fixated on the prize money. they have their own agendas for getting ahead of the rest. dave for revenge and beating sky; sammy for being the person she's always wanted to be and actually moving past the box amy placed her in.

third option (that i literally thought up like ten seconds after writing the sammy route):

COMBINE THE TWO OPTIONS, that'd be pretty sick ngl like dave's on the island when he flashes back and believes he's the only one in the past, but sammy, at the same time, had partaken in that experiment and flashed back to the past too; neither know the other is in the same predicament bc they try to hide it thinking they're the only one until like...later in when they start getting Suspicious and maybe some slip-ups occur bc they're tryna keep a low-profile but things happen y'know? they're 16 year olds who figured out time-travel exists, obv they're gonna fuck around and find out. possible alliance between the two once everything is out in the open? out of pure mutual beneficiary? it'd be funny bc both their personas are on opposing sides lmaoo dave & sky finale, with sammy and amy ending up post-merge? sammy's prob still gonna be in the final four, i think, but idk abt amy lmao i still think before amy gets eliminated she and sammy have a Confrontation bc i def need sammy to confront amy one way or another lmao that girl deserves it, they deserve a Heather & Lindsay Confrontation, sammy deserves to call amy a bitch on international television

ooooh and somehow scarlett finds out?? and tries to get her hands on the technology, but obv time is finicky so dave and sammy can't rlly allow that so they gotta stop her as a joint agenda while they have their own separate ones to deal with?? so this paves way for a true scarlett villain?? she'd make it to the final five or three, i think?

for this idea, there are gonna be multiple povs--dave and sammy's--and it's gonna be multi-plot too; dave and his conflict; sammy and her conflict; and how both alter the season bc of said conflicts and their attitudes abt them; plus the scarlett conflict

(y'know what i may end up going this route lmao bc i love both separate versions and im indecisive as fuck so my motto is if you can combine the options do it!)

[agent-troi]

20 fanfic questions

thanks for the tag @randomfoggytiger!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

95.

2. What’s your total Ao3 words count?

368,619

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Star Trek: TNG, Star Trek: Picard, the Star Trek novel-verse, and I just posted a fic for The West Wing

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Platonic Procreation, Eden, The MSR Files, Mother Knows Best, and Though the Heavens Fall (also I need to mention my current WIP Security Questions bc it's only three kudos away from a tie with fifth place!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most of the time! I usually respond to friends/ people I know well, or if someone pointed out something specific in my fic they liked. And I responded to every comment made on my West Wing fic so far bc I want the fandom to notice me😅

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lol I don’t write many fics with angsty endings (I do like writing angst sometimes but I need things to end happily😅) but I guess this would be Baby Blue, If I Could Only Break the Sky, or When We Were Whole (not sure which one would be the most angsty)

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

so many! lol but I wanna single out Coda bc it was my attempt at wrapping up the mytharc and giving Mulder and Scully a happy ending with William (and giving Samantha’s storyline some actual closure lmao) and I think I did a decent job of it🤗

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did get a hateful comment on a fic not long ago (ironically, it was and still is my most popular fic by almost every metric so someone was clearly jelly lmao) and I’ve had a couple of comments in the past on different fics that weren’t quite hateful but more like critiquing/nitpicking character or writing choices.

9. Do you write smut?

no absolutely not never ugh

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t think I’ve ever written one! But I have ideas for TXF/Star Trek and TXF/SVU crossovers that I might write someday if I ever find the time/energy/inspiration😅

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so but I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No idea!

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

Yes! The gang and I have co-written quite a few fics, which can all be found in this collection🤗

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

MSR of course!! But I will always have a soft spot for Riker/Troi and joshdonna is beginning to take up more and more space in my brain lmao

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

I have a Riker/Troi amnesia fic that has been sitting in my notes for three years, every chapter either written, partly written, or outlined, but I just can’t make myself sit down and sort it out😫 also I used to start publishing fics before I was certain where I was going with them, and For War Alone is a relic of that (and it has also been sitting there since 2020 lol)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I’m really good at dialogue, and I choose to take people at their word😅

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m addicted to adverbs, also I just love reusing the same words and phrases over and over- one time in a first draft I used the word ‘actually’ four times in a single paragraph!

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

I love reading that! I feel like it makes the setting and characters and everything seem more realistic, but for writing it I pretty much need to rely on google translate or multilingual moots lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a LotR fic a long time ago! But the first fic in my modern day stretch of fic writing was for the Star Trek novel-verse: Psi-Ops

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh gosh this is so hard but I’m gonna say Where A Million Stars Catch Fire bc I put in a lot of time and effort carefully constructing it as a tribute to Mulder’s birthday this year, and I’m really proud of how it ultimately turned out🥰

Tagging @tofuttim @katy-kt-katie @incidental-ao3 @cutemothman @mollybecameanengineer and whoever else who wants to do it!

[vacantgodling]

🖋️,❤️, and😭 !! Don't have a specific wip in mind, so you get to decide !!

thank youuuuu 🥺💛 i can talk about the liminal space series for these lol :3

🖋️"what inspired you to write your WIPs?"

donut wip was inspired by my frustration at not being able to finish a story, and i thought if i just plotted out an easy, straight to the point, horror novel (cuz whoops donut wip is straight horror p much) that i’d be able to finish it. i wrote like 15 chapters in 2 weeks and then burned myself out when i started a new job in 2021 BUT as i was thinking about it, more and more could i see it fitting into the universe that already existed in jenna the reaper. but… there was no bridge from point a (college horror) to point b (high school supernatural horror literally across the country)

this is where the inspo for noi, alone came in. i’d had noi as a character in some form, for about as many years as i’ve had jenna but i never knew what to DO with them. but it seemed so perfect to make them the bridge between juls and jenna’s stories, even if they must also go through the horrors 😔 them having a demon entity thing in their eye was always a thing so that makes the transition even better (well, worse for them but better for plot)

and then jenna… tbh i never “had” inspiration for jenna. i was literally chilling at my ex’s house in hs when all of a sudden jenna just knocked on the door of my brain like “hey yeah i’m here now.” with all her plot already figured out LMAO. 💀💀 so in case you were wondering she’s always been like this. all i’ve really done is just tweak it and fit it better into the world with the other two wips, and add stuff on etc etc.

mason at the airport sort of came about from me wanting to take a slightly different direction with liminal spaces, like explore different kinds?? so mason’s story, while it’s in the universe it is Slightly different than the rest of them just cuz i wanted to try something new and LESS horrific lmao

❤️"what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?"

donut wip (gasp that i’m actually willing to talk about Some spoilers lol):

the donut sharing scene is the most important scene To Me

the elevator flashback that talks about juls’s past & trauma around elevators

when juls and joaquin kiss (even tho the poly is alive and well in my head, this relationship is kind of the only one that gets enough time but it’s something i wanna change when i try to write draft 2)

also a particular scene involving news anchors that i don’t wanna spoil but i LOVE it

noi, alone:

tbh i haven’t plotted this one out that well but when noi meets seph is gonna be soooooo funny bc they’re lowkey attracted to him Immediately and lilly loves making fun of them about it. secondly, when the three of them break into the dorm i want it to be kind of messy

jenna the reaper / jenna the witch king:

the scene where noi reveals their demon

the scene with vega that is sad……. ough……

the scene where jenna tells carlos about frankenstein, i actually have that written out lol

the scene where jenna and yehna merge is gonna be OOF

mason at the airport:

i also don’t have much planned yet but i’m excited to write the beginning when mason realizes that there’s something Wrong with the airport and that he’s Alone (or is he)

😭"what are the biggest challenges writing your WIPs?"

honestly for all of these wips it’s just attention span. i enjoy all these stories but sitting down and writing them since 2021 and i burned myself out on donut wip has been a challenge. i’m hoping i can come back around to wanting to write them, but it’s probably gonna be a Long while (cuz i’m projecting in terms of original projects, i’ll write paramour then vampires don’t take road trips and then perhaps after i’ll come back to these)

[smooth-boob]

⭐ !!!

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut Game

Thank you for sending this, and once again I am literally so sorry, but this is just going to be a long diary entry about The Bustle in a House, a Bridgerton fic I wrote, particularly the epilogue. My inner monologue is loud, and normally it's just me in here! Apart from being unhinged in tags, I don't post a lot of personal things on here, but I have something to say!

I feel like I talk about The Bustle in a House a lot on here, and in terms of hits/kudos/statistics, it's not one of my most popular fics (I mean, it's not shippy and it's aggressively sad, so I get it lol), but it was really a breakthrough story for me! Link at the bottom for shameless self promo, woo.

It's funny, looking at my google docs now, I guess it only took me six weeks to write, but it was literally all I thought about for those six weeks. I was scratching at the walls of my enclosure writing this thing. Apart from a couple Bridgerton one-shots and a quickly abandoned fic, I hadn't written almost anything on my own in such a long time. It was also emotionally charged and gritty and I was so impatient to get the story out but I needed to get it out the way that felt right.

Beyond that, I struggle(d) to write complete stories that aren't just scenes stitched to each other. Honestly, Bustle is still like that, but it all stitches together very nicely if I do say so myself. Still, I had been agonizing a little bit over the fact that I didn't know how the fic was going to end. I couldn't keep writing it forever...I mean, I guess I could, because it's really not that long, and there's actually more of it in my drafts, but I was trying to tell a very particular story and also have I mentioned that I am impatient? But the story didn't have an end because it's an origin story about unhealed trauma, so what was I going to do with that?

So, at least to give myself a bookend to the real story, I wrote the epilogue. I wrote it in a thirty-minute fit of inspiration one evening while tipsy on red wine, sitting at a desk in my parents' house where I'd been living for about three years because y'know, pandemic, and I was feeling trapped and burnt out and indecisive and afraid, etc. and if you read it, you might see me staring at you through Anthony, wink wink. (Quick caveat that, unlike Anthony, living with my parents was an overall loving experience at that point in my life!)

Anyway, in true Hemingway spirit, I wrote drunk, and when I went to edit sober, I was delighted that it didn't need much help. I obsessed over details, like changing scotch to whisky and then to brandy (it's sweeter, and he's so young). This is not to say that the epilogue is perfect; it's not, but it is what it needed to be.

It is a love poem of a kind for a character that hit me hard. It's a short prose poem about grief and loneliness and the 'wrong' ways to heal and it's about thinking you're at the acceptance stage of grief but really it's just depression. It's about losing parts of yourself and coming of age into something that doesn't feel right but feels inevitable, and so you stop fighting and just get on with it. It's about the before, and Anthony not knowing that he has an after and eventually, yes, years later eventually, he's going to be okay. More than okay, he's going to be happy.

(And he only has a year until Doing The Voices, and I let him be happy for at least a few nights in that! He doesn't know that he's doing the right things when taking care of his family. Not always, but more than he knows he is.)

As for me, I moved out of my parents' house and into my own newly purchased 'bachelor lodgings' (so to speak) about a month after I posted the last chapter, and I'm writing more than I have in years! Baby steps! Adult steps!

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk/therapy session. Probably no one should ask me anything else for a while lmao, who knows what will happen!

Read The Bustle in a House on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47126467

Or if you don't feel like being sad, read Doing The Voices instead: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47976274