#this has sat in my wip drafts for like a month. today seems like a good day to post it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[phosphorus-noodles]

happy yaoi day. i'm insane about them

un-overlay and unshaded versions too bc i do NOT think i shaded it correctly </3

[venhedish]

I unleash the Fanfiction Asks upon you!

👻 👀 🖊️ 😈

OMG Tumblr ate my response before I could save the draft. Pulling my hair out jfc.

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up? @hotgirlsummersam and I started co-writing a fic for Dean's birthday back in January, but we didn't finish in time. Who knows if it'll ever see the light of day. It's a Stanford era fic about Sam getting Bobby to call Dean about a haunting on campus that just so happens to coincide with his birthday. Here's a little snippet from one of my sections (I wrote Sam, Kal wrote Dean):

Sam spent the rest of the night fitful and on edge. He kept sliding out of bed and staring out the window as if Dean might be waiting there on the pavement below. When he did finally sleep, his dreams were gauzy and oppressive, rumbling with the deep bass of the Impala's engine. He’d wake over and over and think the noise was real, like a kid who’d woken up early on Christmas in time to sneak down the stairs and see what Santa left the night before – jangling with an excitement that almost bordered on nausea.

But it wasn’t real; it was just the distant sound of the freeway, or the old radiator kicking into life, or the muffed music from the dorm below shaking through the walls.

He climbed out of bed for the last time around 3am, giving up the ghost. Instead, he sat in silence at his desk in the dark, sweat clinging to his chest, and wondered if what he was waiting for would ever actually come to pass – if he’d feel better or worse when it finally did.

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about? Not really, no. I tend to get around to publishing most of the fics I actually start writing, but I do have one that I ended up being really unhappy with that won't ever go anywhere. It's about Sam being wistful about the past while he and Dean investigate a string of cattle mutilations. Here's like the only section that has any redeeming qualities:

Which is the reason why he’s staring through the dusty windshield at the haphazard pile of about ten dead cows just inside the barnyard of Happy Moos Dairy. He’s wearing a suit that’s already making sweat collect in damp patches at his armpits and the small of his back; It’s July in New Mexico and the shitty SUV doesn’t have AC. There’s a laminated ID in his left pocket that identifies him as DVM Michael Aday, bovine specialist, CDC (Dean had snorted as they worked the alias up. “Dude. Get it? It’s Meatloaf!” Sam had tried to explain to him that they were dairy cows, but it didn’t seem to matter). In the right pocket, there's a pair of blue nitrile gloves and a container of Vicks to help with the smell. He frowns in deep dissatisfaction.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. Sorry in advance for how long this snippet is, but I'm just really vibing with this fic! I have no idea when it'll be done, but I think it might be my favorite thing I've ever written when I finally finish it! (This is a gen/pre-slash story about being an outsider and losing the last shreds of your innocence as the world puts you in terrible situations. And even still, finding love and beauty in the moments in between.)

That night, as he lay awake in his bed listening to the soft sounds of the crickets in the long grass outside, he rolled over to face the shadowy figure of his brother across the room. There were other empty bedrooms in the house, but not a single one of them batted an eyelash when Sam and Dean ended up together in the little loft at the top of the stairs that had an old porthole window overlooking the forest.

“Hey, Dean?” he whispered into the quiet.

Dean didn’t answer at first, but Sam saw him shift, settling back to look up at the ceiling with an arm flung over his head. “Yeah?”

“I found a cool place out in the woods today.”

Dean adjusted his pillow. The breeze rushed in through a missing pane in the window. “Oh, yeah?”

Sam wished he could go down to the store and buy a packet of those little glow-in-the-dark stars. It would give them something to look at when they talked like this. “Yeah,” he said. “A tire swing. Right out by the creek. It gets wide there. We could swim.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean said. Something in the attic moved above them. A squirrel, maybe. “After work, if you want.”

Dean was working at the Blockbuster in town. For thirty hours a week, he was gone – renting Titanic to old ladies and pornos to their husbands. He’d never been away so much before. Last summer, he’d just mowed lawns a couple mornings a week, but now he had a real job, and Sam was left all alone until sunset just about every night. Dad was in the house a lot, banging around under the sink or drinking beer on the porch, but he was also down at the bars just as often. And when he was home, he didn’t want to be bothered unless it was to run drills. Sam never wanted to run drills, so he avoided their father like the plague.

“Yeah.” Sam shifted until his position matched Dean’s, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the animal noises above them. “Or maybe one day when you’re off. So you can see it during the day. We could bring lunch.”

Dean huffed quietly. “Pack a picnic in that little basket on the bike, go for a swim? Sounds real good to me. Not Wednesday, though. Taking Faith into the city to see Blair Witch. She’s gonna need somebody to protect her after, so I won’t be around.”

Sam could hear the husky curl of his brother’s words and rolled his eyes. “You’re so gross, God.”

Dean laughed and turned his head to look in Sam’s direction, even though it was too dark for him to really see. “Just you wait, Sammy. Another six months and you’ll be worse than me. Us Winchester men can’t live without good pussy.”

“Ugh!” Sam grabbed the pillow from behind his head and chucked it straight at his brother. “Quit it, Dean!”

Dean grunted as the pillow hit him in the face. He did this sometimes, grossed Sam out with sex talk, tried to make him blush. Sam hated it almost as much as he hated running drills.

Sam let his head thump back against the hard mattress. “Just another reason I know we can’t be related. I’ll never be gross like you.”

Dean made a show of tucking Sam’s discarded pillow under his own and plumping it up. “Yeah, yeah, purity boy. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I know you'll actually be a virgin for the rest of your natural life, don’t worry.”

Sam sighed so loud the rustling of tiny paws in the attic stopped for a second. “You better quit or I won’t show you the tire swing.”

Dean laughed again. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’ll get it on at a respectable age and never use the word ‘pussy’ in your life and marry the first girl you kiss just to be safe. That better?”

Sam turned over on the bed, uncomfortable without his pillow, and faced the wall away from Dean. “Just shut up and go to sleep, Dean.”

He could hear his brother adjusting in his own bed before settling down again. “Night, Sammy.”

He closed his eyes tight and let out an exasperated breath. “Night, Dean.”

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

Making you cry. 😢😘

[theastrophilearchitect]

Reworking the plot & getting my hands dirty.

Writing journey #2.

Sat 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 19.38 So, a month ago, today, actually, I started writing a book. For context, I've sorted out scenes and planned my plot; I'm now simultaneously writing my first draft and outlining scenes in more detail - I'm just into act two of my draft and just into act three of the outline.

I included today in my first writing post, which you can find here, but, while outlining, I realised something that will result in a major plot change (even though I probably should wait until revisions, it sorts out the climax I'm currently incredibly vague on, and will help me actually be able to complete the draft), and felt it was time to start a different post, because the other one was long, and already had its own focus.

Previously, I've been setting mildly insane word count goals, and even though I'm sticking to vague targets, I'm going to drop that, because I need to do a major plot change, and that'll mean the word count isn't going up that much for a while.

So, I have my first and second acts good, but while outlining act three, I've realised the event at the start of act three would work better as a climax than the vague battle idea I have. It just seems more original, more effective, but it means I need to shift events around and re-figure the first block of act three. I'll begin tonight, but it's already 8pm, so I'll probably do most of it tomorrow.

Sun 07/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,365 08.24 I'm reworking act three, and I think I may just drop drafting for the moment and focus on incorporating the edits I have in mind, then start drafting over. I know all the advice says not to go back and edit, but this is a big change I can't wait to do, so it seems opportune to just make the others, too.

08.31 I've now finished reworking act three, and I'm much more satisfied with it than I was before. I do now need to go through the scenes again, however.

13.57 Still re-scening. This is frustrating, but I've decided when I'm back to drafting, I'm going to drop my daily minimum to just 500 words - even though I'll make very little progress at that pace, it's more realistic considering I'm about to be plunged back into the world of homework and commuting, and it's something I'll always be able to meet to help me keep in the habit of daily writing. Word count isn't applicable when I'm doing re-scening like today, though.

Something else I've noticed, when I'm writing literally anything, I'm just scribing the words I'm literally hearing in my head, which is a little bit of a problem because where I wrote 'meet' just now, I meant 'meet' but heard 'eat' in my head and wrote 'eat'.

17.07 I feel like I'm finally making some progress - I've been writing on-and-off all day. My word count has actually decreased a couple hundred words since yesterday, but Scrivener is convinced I've written 42,000 words today, which I obviously haven't. I've typed a lot of words, but not that many, not all of which added to that since deleting words takes words off that number. It thinks I've written so many, however, because I duplicated my act one folder twice (then deleted it, obviously, because I don't need three copies of the same act) but Scrivener doesn't take off the words when you delete the file, only when you literally hit backspace.

17.50 Sorting out my climax, I'm realising how bad it was before. Which I guess is good, because it shows internal criticism and growth...? Or something...?

21.04 I've totally planned out the majority of act three, but I haven't finished it because where I'm up to ends with my characters essentially making a game plan, and since I'm not yet sure what that game plan is, I can't outline the bit where they carry out the plan, but I'll do that later. I've incorporated some of the edits I wanted to make, though I've left a couple out because they're less drastic and I'm not sure whether or not to include them, so I'm going to sort that either during or after my first draft.

Since I've made quite a few changes that will affect the parts I've already drafted, I'm going to start my draft over, and reset my word count, but I'll do that tomorrow. For now, Scrivener thinks I've written 42,385 words today, which I absolutely have not, and my word count is currently 28,365, but I'm going to remove every outline and drafted piece I've done so I can start from zero for what I'm going to call draft #1.4, because I already wrote a version of about 40% of it.

God, my word count has gone back to 0 of my minimum 50,000. That hurts. It really hurts. My actual goal is more 70-90K, but 50K is my minimum, so that's what I'm going with for now.

Anyway, goodnight, and good luck me.

Mon 08/03/2021 - Word Count: 820 So, I wrote 820 words before school, then got home, attempted to do some homework and lost all motivation and will to do... anything. Which means I'm very glad I did over my 500 words this morning.

Tue 09/03/2021 - Word Count: 1,367 15.07 I called this a #1.4 draft, but it's more like a #1.3. Anyway, writing is so much less stressful when I'm working from something I've already written - with the first section, so far, at least, I'm basically just editing the writing itself rather than the events because I'm pretty happy, at least at the moment, with my first couple chapters. Very little thinking required.

Also, it's been over 30 hours since I've written because I did my writing before school yesterday, but haven't written yet today because I've got so much work to get done for school. It feels like it's been forever.

16.17 I've finished rewriting chapter one, and still have a lot of fuel in my tank (that's a hideous metaphor) but I think I'm going to cut off today at 547 words, just because I have quite a lot on my plate this week, and I'd like to invest some time in actually reading the book I started eight days ago, and am only 200 pages of the way through.

Wed 10/03/2021 - Word Count: 2,082 I could write significantly more than 500 words most days, but it really is easier to set a minimum that doesn't feel like a strain, so that's what I'm sticking with for now.

Thu 11/03/2021 - Word Count: 2,801

Fri 12/03/2021 - Word Count: 3,405

Sat 13/03/2021 - Word Count: 32,211 07.40 I've just had nothing extra to say the last couple days, which is ironic considering how much I wrote each day of the last post, which went up yesterday! Anyway, it's finally Saturday, and even though I have exactly zero motivation to do anything this morning, I've been awake for two hours already (I recently discovered I like mornings??) and I think it's time to get going. Still sticking to my 500 word minimum, but since it's Saturday, I'm going to invest most of the day in writing, so I should surpass that.

08.20 I don't think I've mentioned yet that I dubbed this WIP Bay Tree in this post. Sorry if I have, but I skimmed this post and can't find it. So, this is about to get messy. I'm basically just cleaning up my prose, but there's so little point doing that when I'm not certain each scene will stay. There's no point editing a chapter unless I know it's sticking around.

So we're reverting, and this is about to get messy. I didn't quite finish my initial draft of chapter seven, because I wasn't sure how exactly the event at the end of it would happen, but I think I'm just going to delve into it. I'm going to add everything, including outlines, back to my word count, finish writing chapter seven, then pick up where I left off in chapter nine. Okay. That's why my word count is jumping around.

And, just like that, I've gone from 4,074 to 28,864. Well, 500 words accomplished. Surpassed, in fact, by just 24,290.

I'm going to aim to just hit 30K by the end of this weekend. I can easily do 1,136 words in two days.

As I've mentioned before, I haven't outlined all the way to the end and through the climax--I have a fairly clear idea of how I want it to do go down, but I'm not sure what I want the characters' plan to actually be, so I currently have 21 chapters, but I'm projecting 23-26, which, at about 3,000 words each, is pretty damn good, especially when it'll just get longer as I redraft (she says optimistically).

Already feeling more motivated now my word count's higher.

09.54 Oh! Also, I logged onto Tumblr today to find someone reblogged my last writing post with a really positive, encouraging comment. It's nice to think I'm bringing someone else a little joy with this.

11.13 And we hit 30K! I'm not quite done for the day, but I do need to go pack. Also, I've been operating under the impression the minimum word count for a novel is 50K, but it's actually 40K, which, though I'm only about 40% of the way to my projected total word count, I'm officially 75% of the way to being able to say I've written a novel.

I'm so glad I've gotten as far as I have, and I just hope I can keep myself going to the end.

12.27 This post is going to look really strange to read - if you're only looking at the word counts, it looks like I've written nearly 27K words today. That makes sense.

Oh, and I finished chapter seven. Like an hour ago.

13.52 At this point, I have literally no idea what continuity things I've already established, so I'm just going by a let-my-future-self-suffer philosophy.

14.36 That's chapter nine done. That leaves chapters 10 to nobody-knows. I'm going to stop writing now, but I wrote nearly 4,000 words today (plus recounting about 20K) so I don't exactly think this cut-off will be detrimental.

Sun 14/03/2021 - Word Count: 35,548 07.58 I’ve written over a thousand words already, and it isn’t even 8am yet. Being a morning person is genuinely the best thing ever as an introvert--I’m asleep when people want to socialise, and awake when no-one else is. That makes me sound like a hermit. I love it anyway, and feel like I’m stacking up for a good writing day. 35K is probably a little overambitious, but what’s life without aspiration?

09.04 As I’m going, I’m realising my plot is actually coherent, and being surprised that I can actually make a story without plot holes (as of yet.)

09.21 And that makes the first eleven chapters drafted! 

...And, Houston, we have a problem. Dammit. Eleven chapters, and I haven’t established one of the most important world-building points. Which is especially irritating because it needs to be established by chapter twelve. Unless I can establish it at the start of chapter twelve? We’ll go with that, so I don’t have to go back, then I’ll sort it out in edits or draft two or something.

I’ve just started writing chapter twelve, but I think, having written 2,600 words today already, I need a break. I have less than 500 words until I hit 35K, but I’m going to leave it for now, and come back this evening. I should be able to hit 40K this week.

18.19 And that makes 35K. Chapter twelve is only two scenes, and I’ve written one, but having written 3,000 words so far today, I’m going to leave it until tomorrow.

Mon 15/03/2021 - Word Count: 36,337 17.19 So there’s a crucial plot point just after my midpoint, and I’m not completely sure what to do. I mean, I know what I’m doing--I just wasn’t sure exactly how I wanted it to go, but now I know. The issue is other stuff needs to be pre-established, and I’ve worked out where it needs to go, but I don’t know whether or not I want to go back and write those bits now, or just make note of it and add it in draft two.

I think I’m just going to make note, plough ahead, and deal with it in draft two. I’m trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to operate after this draft: things generally say put it down for a few weeks, come back for edits, then go into your next draft, but I feel like I’m already going to have so many edits gathered by the time I reach the end of this draft, I should just go back into it, but time will probably be beneficial. Not that it actually matters now. I’m only just halfway through an under-draft (by that I mean it’s going to get a lot longer). I’m going to add new scenes in my next draft and generally fiddle with plot aspects, but as quite a linear writer, I think I’m more naturally inclined to just incorporate aspects in a draft rather than as edits. I’m not sure. Does that even make any sense? 

Depending on when I finish this draft, I think I’ll plan to pick it back up May 1st, and just see how I’m feeling. But, again, this all depends on when I finish the draft, and how I’m feeling when that time comes.

Tue 16/03/2021 - Word Count: 37,025 I bought my Scrivener license today! Yay!

Wed 17/03/2021 - Word Count: 38,408 08.04 This is mostly irrelevant to my project, but I just wanted to mention the odd fact that I’m definitely a plotter when it comes to longer pieces, but when I do shorter pieces, creative or essays, for school, I hate planning, and just start immediately, then go back and edit. Huh.

Thu 18/03/2021 - Word Count: 38,950 I’m going to edit this, but writing the date just now I noticed I’ve put 2019 for the last three days. It’s absolutely not, and I know why I did that, but still.

14.31 Also, Oxford commas? Found out what they were. Granted, that was actually a few days ago.

Fri 19/03/2021 - Word Count: 40,139 06.55 Even though I wrote 500 words yesterday, I didn’t quite reach my goal of 39K, just because I had to stop writing 50 words off, and by the time I had the opportunity to go back, I just wanted to go to bed. So, today, my goal is to hit 40K words, and officially be able to say I’ve hit the minimum word count for a novel.

Honestly, I’m starting to lose my love for this project. I’m still enjoying working on it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m anticipating finishing it because I know exactly what I want to write next. I feel like I’m mostly still working on it as a lesson, and I know it’s not what I ultimately want to write--mostly because it’s not super high-concept, and high-concept stuff is what I want to be writing. I am still enjoying working on it, I’m just not sure I’ll get to the ‘final line-edits’ stage. But who knows?

10.19 And that marks 40K. We’re in novel terriority, people. And, yes, I could correct that spelling, but I’d like to draw attention to how bad I am at spelling when typing. I’m excellent at spelling in writing, and wrong spellings bother me, but when I’m typing, my fingers are just trying to keep up with my mind, which means I try to type a letter and the one after it at the same time, and often end up with letters in the wrong order and punctuation in the wrong place. Or I just hit halfway between two keys instead of the key I’m going for, and type a wrong letter. Anyway, that was meant to say territory. See? I can spel..

Or I just double the punctuation instead of the last letter.

So I’m definitely not meeting my old goal of 80K words or a finished draft by the end of the month--that’d be another 40K words in just 12 days--but I’m definitely on track to finish by the end of April.

Sat 20/03/2021 - Word Count: 40,692 15.30 God, second acts are hard. I hate being in the middle. At the start, you have novelty, and at the end (not that I would know from experience) you have the knowledge you’re near the end, that you’ve already written most of it.

I’m currently operating the reminder, ‘You’ve written an act before, why not again?’, in hopes that’ll eventually extend to, ‘You’ve finished a draft before, why not again?’ and ‘You’ve written an entire book before, why not again?’

I’ve literally written 243 words so far today, and I just don’t want to. Normally, I sit down, I slog through the first hundred or so words, then pick up momentum. Maybe it’s just because chapter 13 is a boring part to write. Ha. 13. Just my luck.

I’m being nice to myself because a lot has happened in my life over the last few days, but I still want to write a minimum of 500 words, even though most Saturdays I can write more like 3,000.

21.41 I’d like to be asleep. That sounds like fun. Today slipped through my grasp, and I haven’t even written 300 words, but I am going to try to at least hit 500. And then maybe write thousands and thousands tomorrow, but I’m also going to bake a cake, and I’m notorious for being able to make cooking and baking take at least three times as long as is necessary.

21.57 So I got just past 500. Relatively speaking, that’s not that impressive for me, but it’s more words than most people in the world added to their manuscripts today, so I have to give myself some credit. (I’m working on crediting myself for productivity rather than degrading myself for not being productive--I could go on for hours about how much it pisses me off that capitalism teaches us productivity=worth in everything, not just business, but I’m going off on a tangent.)

Sun 21/03/2021 - Word Count: 41,466 08.08 Cakes baked! And I’ve come to a conclusion about how irritating I am to myself--I didn’t fully outline the latter half of act two (by which I mean I have each scene and a purpose of each scene, but virtually no detail) which I can absolutely cope with, but it does slow me down. Anyway, I’m waiting for my cakes to cool, then I can ice them.

14.28 I wanted to write up to 42K this weekend, which I don’t think is going to happen. I’ve written 774 words, so passed my 500-word minimum, but haven’t yet reached 42K, and don’t think I’m going to this weekend. I just don’t have much motivation, which may just be because of the part I’m on, but I’d rather work through this part really slowly then pick up the pace when I get to the part I want to be writing, than force myself to write this section quickly and poorly, then not want to continue into act three. So, sticking to 500 words a day; I may do more later, but I’m leaving it for now.

Mon 22/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,006 17.56 God, I don’t want to write today. I’m going to anyway, because I haven’t yet failed 500 words. They can be a shitty 500 words, but they have to be 500 words. Also, the scene I wrote yesterday? Absolutely getting deleted. But I’m leaving it for now because I refuse to lose those 800 words.

I really enjoy putting edits at the bottom of scenes in brackets and making them unnecessarily wordy so Scrivener thinks I’ve written significantly more words than I actually have.

18.31 Yay, did it. I’m really hoping I can just work through this low spot and don’t have to take a break. I’m on the penultimate chapter of act two, and the first few chapters of act three are really exciting, so I’ll know if I need to take a break based on whether I get motivated when I get to that part.

Tue 23/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,124 16.37 GOD, I need a break. I don’t have motivation, even for 500 words. You know what? I’m just going to make a note of the scene idea I had earlier, and I’m going to take a week’s break. Unless I get antsy, in which case I may end it earlier, but, I’m not going to write again until Tuesday the 30th. Unless I get antsy. FUCK.

I’m just reminding myself breaks are good and important, but I still hate that I’m taking one without finishing my first draft. Tue 30/03/2021, I will be back! Though my word count may increase between now and then as I note down any ideas I have, which I will update with. Okay. Just leave it.

Sun 28/03/2021 - Word Count: 42,150 10.47 Since Tuesday, I’ve made some notes on my phone of little things I want to change, but haven’t added them to my project file, so the word count hasn’t gone up.

Last night, I was just thinking about how badly I wanted to get back to this project, but this morning, I just... don’t. I’ve been thinking it through, and I’m not ready to drop this project yet, but I’m just not happy with what I have at the moment. So, I’m going to add my notes to the file, and then leave it for a few weeks, so I can return with edits in mind, apply them, and then start what I guess will be like a 1.7 draft, because I didn’t finish this draft.

In the meantime, however, I do want to keep writing, so I’m going to start another project in the meantime, which I can work on a lot in the next few weeks because, in a few days, I get a couple weeks off, which won’t be completely free of work, but will give me a lot more time to dedicate to this.

I think I’m going to say I’ll return to Bay Tree (or at least review, if, say, I just want to dedicate a little more time to whatever phase of the new project before I move on) on May 10th, because that’s basically when I get to relax after my exams finish.

So I’ll add the notes I have so far, keep making notes on my phone, and return on May 10th.

Which wraps up this writing update--a new one will come with my new project!

[sherlollyandspoilers]

no title

Alright loves, here is some Reylo thing that I started writing back when TLJ came out - literally three days after opening night. I thought I had this grand idea but ever since then, this stupid little WIP has been sitting as a draft, saved in my fics folder, taunting me. So here. You have it. Its less than 3000 words and barely proof read.

Anyways, enjoy!

She had been going nonstop since she had run into Finn on Jakku. Everywhere she went someone was asking something of her, to push harder in training, to explore the Jedi text, to have an opinion on everything. She used to think that having a family would make everything right, that she would no longer feel the sting of loneliness. But it seemed the more people she talked with the more alone she felt. The more overwhelmed she felt. Luke was gone now and she was supposed to rebuild the Jedi order by herself. It was hard for her to not reach back out to him, to ask for his help, to not feel alone.

It had been months since she last closed her side of the connection, but she could still sense him, feel his presence with her. She had learned to set his emotions aside, his brokenness and anger, so she could concentrate on herself, on building a new base, on helping others embrace their own connection to the force. She was getting stronger every day, training and teaching. They had managed to fix Luke’s lightsaber – her lightsaber – and find more Kyber Crystals. The First Order was suffering major losses and she could feel his unsteadiness growing every day.

When it was quiet on base and those around her were calm and secure, she would steal away and reach out to him, never enough for him to sense her, but just enough for her to brush her finger tips lightly across his side of the connection, to feel just a little less alone. The first time she did this, the recoil from his anger was so much it laid her out flat. But his anger was starting to subside, she could feel his fight to hold on to it, the thing that made him Kylo Ren, but his brokenness and the feeling of being lost were over taking him more and more each time.

She tried staying away, but it seemed impossible. Whenever she reached for him the feeling of being overwhelmed subsided but she knew the more time she spent embracing his presence the more she would lose her grip on the reality around her. Tonight. Tonight she would end it. Tonight would be the last time she would reach out…she had to be with him one last time.

She ate dinner as quickly as she could and shrugged off Poe and Finn, claiming exhaustion from training. She hurried across the base and into her small quarters, double locking the door behind her. She looked around her small space before deciding to change out of her dirty clothes. She rearranged the few things she had on her shelves twice trying to stall as long as possible. After having settled her lightsaber on the table three different times, she sighed and crawled onto her bed. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her legs, hands on her knees. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

His presence filled her senses. She could feel his desperation as he tried to think of what came next. She reached towards him and the feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her, causing a loud sob to rise in her throat. She felt tears running down her face but she kept reaching, and reaching, until her finger tips seemed to brush his soul. The anger she had felt burning like a raging fire months ago was now no more than a flickering candle. She pressed her hand against his side of the connection and felt it give way, allowing her entrance.

“Rey?”

Her eyes flew open and she froze, arm raised and hand stretched out. Somehow she had gotten distracted. Somehow she had managed to lose track of her own emotions. Somehow she had managed to let him in again.

She dropped her arm and moved away from him, trying her best to close what she thought she would never open again.

“Don’t!” The desperation in his voice hit her to the core. She stopped struggling against the connection and looked at him. What she saw was not a powerful leader but a helpless boy, lost and confused.

He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head and slammed her side of the connection closed.

--

The next day she was on edge. She couldn’t focus during their meeting that morning. She couldn’t concentrate during training that afternoon. And she couldn’t eat that night during dinner.

“Rey?” Finn nudged her arm as he sat down. She nodded at him, not even bothering to fake a smile. “What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, jumping to the defensive. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine…I saw you walk out of training early today.” He gave a small look around before hunching down over his food and whispering, “You’ve been distracted lately and we are all getting a little worried.”

“I said I’m fine.” She stood up, leaving her untouched meal where it was, knowing Finn would make sure it wouldn’t go wasted.

--

She had made up her mind the moment she left the mess hall and was headed straight for the command center. She knew her request would seem strange considering they were in the middle of rebuilding and she didn’t want them to think she was abandoning, but she had to go.

“General?”

“Rey.” Leia gave her a small smile.

“Ma’am, I was hoping to take the Falcon off base for a while.” She swung her arms behind her back and clasped her hands. Leia eyed her for a moment, but nodded. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” The General cocked her head to the side.

“No, no, of course not.” Rey waved her hands frantically in front of her body. Leia frowned and looked at her suspiciously. She dropped hands to her sides, tugging on her robe. “I won’t be longer than two weeks…maybe three.”

“I’ll have supplies packed for you and Chewy so you can leave this afternoon.” Leia gave her a nod of dismissal and turned back to her work.

Rey opened her mouth to correct her, tell her that Chewy was staying and she was going alone, but she swallowed down her words and headed back to her quarters to pack.

She grabbed everything she needed and haphazardly stuffed them in a bag. She hooked her newly mended lightsaber to her belt and tucked the second one she was working on into a robe before shoving that into the bag as well. She hurried out of her quarters and down to the Falcon, running into Mera, a promising trainee, who was bringing the supplies she would need. Rey thanked the young girl and assured her that she was completely capable of getting everything on board herself.

--

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to come here, to this particular place but she had known as soon as she left base that she needed to be here.

She sat the Falcon down and, leaving all her stuff aboard, wondered out into the rain. It wasn’t hard to picture how big the temple had been, how much beauty and strength it had held, all of it now piles of stone and dirt.

She worked her way through the grown up landscape, doing her best not to tear her robes too badly. She stopped mere inches away from a crumbling wall and placed her hand on it. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. This place carried so much pain and anger, but also of hope and love. She sighed and opened her eyes, resting her forehead gently on the stone wall; she would never know the truth about what happened here now.

--

She was soaked to the bone when she got back to the ship. She stripped down and laid everything out to dry and pulled on dry clothes, wrapping herself in her largest robe. She settled down at the table in the main hold and pulled out the lightsaber she was working on, the functioning one tucked next to her leg.

Working on anything, a lightsaber or ship even, helped her sort out her thoughts. She was mad. Mad at herself for going to him, for letting him in, and for letting him affect her so much. She was strong, stronger than some tiny insignificant feelings for a boy who no longer existed, who she didn’t even know – why was she letting him win?

“Gah!” she shouted as she tossed the tools and saber onto the table.

“You found another crystal?” His voice was unusually soft. She unconsciously gripped her working saber with her right hand. “I see you fixed that one.”

“Yes,” she said shortly but relaxed her grip. She brought her face up, finally meeting his gaze. He looked…more put together than he had the day before, as if he had been prepared for a connection…it infuriated her. “What do you want, Ben?”

“Just to talk.” He shrugged but kept his gaze on her.

“To talk? About what?” She turned on the bench so she was facing him.

His gaze finally wavered and he stood, turning his back on her. Rey stayed quiet waiting for him to speak.

“Why did you leave?” he finally asked, his voice still low.

“Why did you try to shoot me out of the sky?!” she spat at him, unable to believe that he would ask such a question. He turned on his heal, anger flashing in his eyes. “If you care so much, why did you try to kill me?”

Kylo’s jaw tightened and he spun around, his ridiculous cape fluttering behind him. Then he was gone.

--

She had fallen asleep in the hold that night, waking stiff and tired the next morning. She grabbed some of the food out of her supplies and took one of the Jedi texts with her. She opened the boarding ramp and sat down, watching the sun rise as she ate. She stayed on the ramp reading, until the sun was high in the sky. She stood up and stretched, taking the text back into the ship and leaving her warm robe inside before venturing out into the hot sun.

She ignited her lightsaber and dragged it slowly through the over grown brush, trying to create a path for herself. The process was long and annoying but she was going to be here awhile, longer than what she had told the General, and she wanted a clean, wide path to the temple.

It was several hours later by the time she had made it to the temple. She was hot and sweaty and in desperate need of food. She patted the crumbling wall, as if telling it she would be back later, and scurried back to the Falcon.

She took her lunch to the cockpit and sent a message back to base. She really had been planning on only being gone for three weeks, but Leia had assumed Chewy was going and sent her enough supplies to last her alone over two months. She told them she was safe and that she would check in with them periodically. She also asked them to tell Chewy she was sorry for leaving him behind.

She left the ship again, wondering around the land that surrounded the temple. She found a cool spring and took her shoes off, slipping her feet in.

“Ahh.” She wiggled her toes, enjoying the coolness.

She stripped off her clothes and waded into the water in her undergarments. She stayed where she could touch, besides having grown up on Jakku with a lack of chances to learn how to swim, she didn’t want to be too far from her lightsaber either.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, soaking her hair and scratching her scalp. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair and enjoyed listening to the sound of the forest around her. This was the first time in months that she really felt at peace.

And then she felt him.

“Of course,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to hurry out of the water, the weight of it making her clumsy.

“What are you doing?” he asked in amusement. She didn’t answer him as she finally stumbled up onto the shore, pulling her tunic on. “Ahh,” realization dawned on his face when he noticed the water streaming off of her, “swimming.”

“Bathing,” she corrected him but instantly wished she hadn’t. Her checks flushed and she held her arms tightly across her damp body.

“Where are you?” He had meant it as an innocent question but realized the implication due to their current circumstances. “Never mind,” he said quickly.

From where Rey stood, he looked like he was sitting on the edge of the bank, his back straight as a rod.

“It’s a spring.” She watched his reaction as she rung the water out of her hair. “And where are you?” He raised an eyebrow as if to ask did she really want to know. “Maybe not then.” She sat down on the bank, letting the sun warm her skin. “You were mad last night,” she said as she stretched out her legs and leaned back on her elbows.

“I’m always mad.” She studied his face for a moment and decided he wasn’t trying to be funny. He was watching her too, trying to decide something for himself. “Why do you keep letting the connection open?” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, just watching him for a long moment.

“It’s a little less lonely this way, don’t you think?” She saw his jaw tense and then relax again. “No?”

“There’s a way we wouldn’t have to be lonely at all.” His hand twitched on his knee as he talked.

She sighed sadly, realizing he still thought he had made the right choice.

“Ben, please don’t.”

“If you were to join me – ”

“I said don’t!” she snapped. They stared at each other, the silence between the two drowning out the noise around her. She swallowed hard and stood up, grabbing her light saber. “Why do you want me to join you?” She ignited the saber and started practicing. “Why me?” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she moved. He was watching her intently and she was sure that she knew his answer already.

“You understand.”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“What do I understand?” she asked after a moment.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was pulled to something in front of him and then the connection was gone.

--

Rey had planned on going back to the temple after her swim but wanted her mind calm and unobstructed, which after her conversation with Ben, it was not. She couldn’t stop her thoughts as they swirled in her head and found that she had gotten good and lost in the woods when she finally stopped to pay attention to where she was. She had been wondering for a few hours when she finally stopped and it took her another couple to get back to spring. By the time she had gotten back she was hot and sweaty again and decided to take another quick dip in the cool water.

By the time she had gotten back to the Falcon, she had wasted most of the day and her stomach was grumbling. She grabbed some food and a robe, and crawled up on top of the ship to watch as the night sky filled.

--

The next two days it down poured and Rey stayed inside, studying the texts and working on her saber. She had expected Ben to show up, but she didn’t hear from him until she was snuggling down in her bunk the second night.

“GAH!” She scooched back into the wall and hit her head. She had just been drifting off to sleep when she had felt him. She had opened her eyes and there he was, mere inches from her face, lying on his stomach, startling the living daily lights out of her.

“Problems sleeping?” he asked as he rolled to his back, the proximity not seeming to bother him.

“No,” she said tensely as she rubbed the back of her head.  

“I don’t sleep.” He stared straight up and she began to wonder what he was staring at. They were quiet for a while, just lying there breathing.

Intimate was the word Rey would have used for it. Realistically, she knew he was half a galaxy away, but yet here he was, lying next to her in her bunk.

“Do you dream?” he asked suddenly. She blinked at him, trying to focus on the words he just said.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his arm.  

“About?” He looked at her and she was struck at how vulnerable he seemed.

“You.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

He simply stared at her, his expression unchanging, and she wanted to scream. But she didn’t. She couldn’t move, couldn’t let him know she hadn’t meant to say it.

He slowly reached his hand up to her face and brushed his fingertips across her cheek bone, watching his hand as he did so.

“Ben,” she whispered. His eyes snapped back to hers and then she was alone, the spot on her cheek still tingling.

[serenephenix]

Spilled Milk 2/3

Sometimes, talking to a stranger can be a huge relief.

OR

Sometimes, you don’t even need advice to come to a conclusion.

(I’m breaking tradition since this won’t be from Shiro’s POV for once)

Also: shout-out to @banditywrites and @musicanddancingthroughlife for indulging me. It really helped! This goes for @beloved-key as well who was screaming at me to resolve this. Sorry, but in the next chapter you will get the promised hugs. <3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spilled Milk 2/3

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Gen/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Team as Family

[AU]: Shenanigan(g)s series, college AU

[Word count]: 3.900

[Status]: wip

Original AU by  taylor-tut

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lance threw another stone with as much force as he could muster, preparing for impact, and watching as it was about to make contact with the clear, reflective surface. Anticipation filled him, hoping the sound would blast away all his tension and anger.

The stone soared and broke the surface of the lake with a tiny bloop.

Lance made a face, disgruntled that even something as simple as skipping stones was not working today. He kicked at a pebble, sending it flying and watching as it was swallowed by the murky water as well.

He took a deep breath before squatting down and looking for more suitable ammunition, inspecting each and every stone, running his fingers over smooth or coarse surfaces, weighing them in his hand individually, and dropping whichever did not suit his needs.

He was glad that the park was exactly where he needed it to be: not so far away from the apartment that he might regret coming here later, but not close enough for the others to come searching for him here.

He hadn’t yet gotten around to showing Hunk this spot and maybe it might be a good decision to not do so in the future. He needed a place to unwind, needed a little room to breathe when he was already this angry and agitated.

He stood, listening as the wind rustled the leaves of a willow bending over the shore, watched as a few leaves drifted lazily down onto the water’s surface and wiped away the ones that got caught in his hair and hoodie.

In the distance the honking of cars and the deep rumble of bus engines broke some of the magic of the peaceful atmosphere.

He positioned himself, legs spread a little to stand more firmly and motioned his arm back and forth, focusing on a spot on the other shore. Then, with one swift movement he sent the stone flying, positive that this time he had found the right angle, but again the stone broke surface and sank.

If Lance possessed one quality that had helped him throughout his life, then it had to be his inexhaustible stubbornness. He would stay here until he finally got what he wanted, even if it took him all day. Which sounded kind of appealing if he were being honest.

He did not think he had it in him to face his friends right now. Not after their faces filled with something quiet but undeniable.

It was why his phone had been muted and then, as a precaution, he had not only turned it off but removed the battery entirely. He knew what Pidge was capable of doing with a laptop and a keyboard, and he was not keen on her trying out her witchcraft-like hacker skills on him when the last thing he wanted was to be found.

The other reason had been the notification of three missed calls from his mom’s cell. Now that was a conversation he definitely not did not want to have. For all it was worth, he would give her some time to cool down a little – his mama could be fearsome when angered and that’s exactly what Lance had managed to do.

Ignoring his initial objective, Lance threw the next pebble with as much force as he could muster, drops spraying everywhere, tiny waves gently lapping at the tips of his sneakers.

All that hard work, all the smiling and pretending for months and Keith had to ruin it with one damn question. All of his hard work – destroyed like a house of cards by a draft from a window.

The next stone did skip, but only once. Still, Lance could work with that.

He wondered where it had gone wrong.

Maybe when he had invited Keith into his and Hunk’s room… But that was unfair. Lance had been planning on introducing his new friends to his family at some point, Keith just poking his head in while he was Skyping had been a coincidence, and one he had taken advantage of.

Maybe when he had not taken back the conversation where it was supposed to go?

Or maybe, just maybe, when he had started this whole mess five months ago.

Lance could pretend all he wanted but he was well damn aware of the fact that it had started with one lie.

A lie he had told straight into his mama’s face and which went against any and all agreements they had made upon his enrollment into college.

One single lie disguised as a gentle whisper that he was going to be fine, that he’d pull through.

He remembered the many evenings he had sat at the kitchen table with his parents, discussing the options, discussing the costs, discussing the terms, discussing his future.

Their family was big, children of all ages ranging from adults already done with their education and working to young tots barely old enough to begin primary.

And as much as anyone might want to argue with him, Lance knew that education was a privilege, involved so many long nights pouring over textbooks just so he could have a chance to get to where he was now.

If it hadn’t been for his parents pushing and lifting him up when necessary, Lance really could not say if he ever might have achieved his goal.

And after everything his parents had done for him, all he’d wanted to do was give them back a little bit of that care they had shown him his whole life.

The next stone skipped three times but Lance was only distantly aware of it as he remembered his parents sitting at their kitchen table while he peeked through the door and saw his mama heave a deep sigh, papers and flyers spread out before her.

He had never seen her head hang so low, had never once seen his father look at her with such dark, understanding eyes. It was an image to forever be burned into his mind.

Someone gave an appreciative whistle: “Not bad, not bad at all!”

He jumped, shrieking and whirled around to see a girl his age sitting on the boulder right next to him.

She giggled, her dark hand coming up to hide her smile, amber eyes crinkling.

It took Lance a moment to get his heart to calm down, the girl looking at him kindly as she reclined back and watching him in interest. The golden hoops she was wearing swayed when she cocked her head to the side in clear amusement.

He swallowed, chuckling as he made a show of adjusting his jacket. Soon enough he had his best, confident smile at the ready.

“Thanks. It comes with practice.”

She hummed, casting a contemplative look at the lake’s surface.

“It sure does, but I think it’d work better if you used smoother stones.”

“Yeah…”, Lance admitted, his hand coming up to rub at the base of his neck, “I’m usually better at this but it seems like today’s just destined for everything to go wrong.”

He smiled at her, the corner of his mouth tugging down briefly despite his greatest efforts. The girl blinked at him before making a face of feigned hurt he instantly knew was only for show.

“Oh my, this has to be the first time someone has told me that meeting me was a bad experience.”

Although he knew she was only dragging him for fun, Lance felt punched to the stomach. He hadn’t thought when he had said that, had not in the slightest considered what it might mean and yeah, the girl might have been joking but that blunder had to be rectified immediately.

“That’s- that’s not what I meant. Not at all!”

Either it was the deep blush or his wild flailing, but she broke out into peals of laughter that had her rocking back and forth on the boulder. She really had a nice laugh, rich and unrestrained.

“Of course not. I’m just messing with you.”

Trying to salvage what he could of his image, Lance gave a shrug with one of his shoulders, waving about one of his hands.

“Well, so did I.”

He really worried she might fall off again when she just kept on laughing and Lance could feel himself relax.

“So, what brings someone as lovely as you to such a lovely place?”

It was all in good humor, a simple compliment towards a person that had been able to make him forget for just a moment why was running around in circles, sulking, chucking pebbles into a pond until his shoulders burned.

She leveled him with a meaningful look, a tiny impish glint in her eyes.

“Careful now. If my brother hears you, you gonna be in trouble.”

Lance reeled back, arms up as though ready to confess to a crime. If there was one thing he knew for certain from his own family, it was that you did not mess with a girl who had brothers.

“What? Are we no longer allowed to tell people they look great? Please, tell me he’s not here right now, waiting behind a bush to get me into a headlock,” he whispered, looking around the shore with wide eyes for dramatic effect.

She shook her head, the golden hoops glinting in the sunlight. Her smile was sweet and innocent.

“No worries. He isn’t in town anyway.”

Lance made a sound of surprise, going back to his scavenging for good stones as the mystery girl remained seated, merely watching him in interest.

“And why’s that?” He looked at her while weighing the stone he was holding in his hand and dropping it when it became clear it was once again too heavy.

She made herself more comfortable, letting her feet dangle over the edge of her perch, the tips of her sandals barely brushing the surface of the water, ripples ghosting over it. He was kind of amazed how someone could feel comfortable running around dressed as lightly as she was – knee-long gypsy skirt and strappy top- when he was suddenly reminded of Hunk, burning furnace extraordinaire.

“Well, he wanted to go over some numbers again this week-end to make sure everything was in order and since our company’s stationed at the next town over I just thought I’d pay a good friend of mine a visit,” she explained, shaking her head when Lance held up a stone and agreeing that it obviously wasn’t suited. He still flung it into the lake over his shoulder the tiny ‘bloop’ it made very satisfying.

“That’s cool. I bet they’re excited.”

She hummed, inclining her head and looking at the sky as though she needed to think about it, that little quirk of her lips never leaving.

“Probably not, since I did not tell him.”

Lance made an appreciative sound as he pushed away a fallen log with his feet: “So a surprise visit. Now that’s even better.”

This time the pebble was a beautiful black, smooth and slim and a perfect oval – far too pretty to be tossed out onto the water but just perfect in every way he could have wished for. Oh, this was a tough one. To throw, or not to throw…

Mystery girl watched as the find silently glided into the pocket of his jacket before mutely pointing at some stone to his left. He instantly followed her silent instruction, searching for the exact one she had in mind.

“And what kind of business do you have?”

He held up a brown pebble and she shook her head, small smile quirking her lips. He let it fall down instantly, the clack satisfying to hear as he dove back down.

“We’re a construction company. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Bahlmeeran Constructions?”

“Nope, sorry.” He gave an apologetic smile, holding up the next one, mystery girl just snorting. Yeah, that one looked like a misshapen potato. It disappeared with a splash.

“It makes sense, I guess. We’ve never worked outside of our hometown until recently. My brother thinks it’s time we expanded our business.”

Lance nodded along with a hum, search ongoing but still signaling his interest. Mystery girl took the invitation, obviously enjoying herself as she talked about her family, telling him everything from how her father had started from scratch with just his brothers, his wife, and a few cousins, how he had always faced struggles head-on, how much love and dedication he had put into this company, how he had proven wrong all of those people telling him it was a pipe dream and how, inevitably, she had been drawn in.

All the while Lance listened, adding stories and little mishaps from his own family history into the mix, laughing alongside his new friend as he meticulously selected stone after stone with her help.

“Sometimes, I like to imagine the lives of the people that will live in the houses or tenements we construct.”

It was the sheer warmth underlying those words that had him look up at her, uncaring of the throw that would now miss. Her smile was indescribably soft.

It had him a little dumb-struck, so much so that it took him a moment to react to her outstretched hand, fingers signaling for him to pass her another stone from the sizeable pile he had gathered over the length of their conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning as he dove for the desired item, his new friend all the while laughing good-naturedly.

Her stone skipped at least five times.

“Any kind of special scenarios?” he asked, genuinely curious as to what she was hiding behind that distant gaze.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just…,” she worked her lips as she considered the question and Lance used that moment to skip his own stone. It sank after only four wobbly leaps.

“I just like to think about how we’re making a home for everyone. Somewhere they like to go back to after a long, hard day. A place they’re happy to return to again and again. I hope that if I put all of my hard work and love into it… that the people who will one day live there will feel it somehow.”

Her blush was adorable and would have even been more charming if she didn’t look so flustered.

“I’m sorry. I know it must sound silly. Rax thinks it is anyway.”

“No!”

It was louder than he expected, making him and mystery girl jump in surprise. Her eyes were huge as she stared at him mutely, Lance feeling mortification seep in, his arms flailing before his brain got any say in it.

“What I mean is that it’s actually really sweet.”

He took a deep breath, letting his arms fall to his sides, one hand slowly snaking up to rub at the skin at the base of his neck, fingers playing around with strands that had gotten a little too long. When his eyes met hers, there was no longer a trace of alarm, giving Lance enough determination to go on.

“And I’m pretty sure that people do pick up on these kind of things. It’s hard to miss when something’s made with love. Also, your brother sounds like a stick in the mud.”

She gave snort, her hand coming up to cover the bottom half of her face, and even when she seemingly had her facial expression under control it was painfully obvious that she was having a hard time keeping her amusement at bay.

“As his sister, it is my duty to defend my brother’s honor in public.” Her eyes darted left and right, Lance mimicking her before the smirk slowly stretching her lips caught his full attention. “But seeing as there is no one else but us, yeah, if you look up the definition of party pooper, you’ll be sure to find his picture next to it.”

It didn’t matter how much his back would hate him for it in the days to come, Lance found himself on the ground, laughing like he hadn’t done in a while, mystery girl snickering quietly but leaving him painfully alone to ride out his fit.

“Wheew, that was great.”

He smiled up at her and she perched down to retrieve new ammunition. Lance just listened to the sound of stones hitting the water’s surface, staring up at the sky that was slowly fading into rich evening colors, although he knew it could not be any later than four in the afternoon.

The quiet atmosphere between them was nice and he was glad for the company, not really having looked forward to stewing in his own thoughts for too long.

The sudden reminder as to why he was actually here and not in a warm apartment in his bed, settled over him like a heavy, leaden blanket.

He knew he had overreacted. He knew he needed to apologize at the end of the day.

As for the other issues… what was he supposed to do? He may have promised his parents that he would not work more than one job but that did not change the fact that, sometimes, at the end of the money there was a whole lot of month left.

Although it had become somewhat easier to set aside whatever tips he got at his jobs now. Which might have had to do with the fact that he was no longer spending more than half of his earnings on rent. But only maybe. Just maybe.

His brows were almost welded together as Pidge’s assertions, on point and painfully true, reverberated in his skull. Of course she was right, she was a freaking genius for heaven’s sake! If anyone knew what they were talking about, it’d be Pidge.

He rolled onto his side, head wedged between his arms, eyes following the path of every stone. It was entrancing, mystery girl leaving him to ponder in silence. It might have been his expression or his body language tipping her off, but Lance could not be entirely sure of that.

Mystery girl was different from him. She loved what she did with her entire heart and soul. There was no denying it, and to a certain degree he might have felt a little jealous.

Lance did not dislike the nature of his second job per se: interacting with people, drawing a smile out of (most) of them when there were metaphorical clouds hanging over their heads. But none of that could gloss over the fact that his boss, a man as mean as he was intimidating, had made it his personal mission to make Lance as uncomfortable as possible whenever he came through the personnel’s backdoor.

The constant glances over his shoulders as he worked on an order, the quiet threats to keep him longer after exchanging a few words with another poor college kid in need of a pep talk, the ill-disguised insults about his efficiency or his intellect if anything, no matter how insignificant or beyond his control, disrupted the dreadful routine.

Lance knew that that kind of behavior involved levels of pettiness he could never understand. And all of this, only because he had accidently spilled a venti cup over the counter on his first day, and over the man’s polished faux-leather shoes.

Lance even wondered why the man had not fired him at once.

Probably because Lance was the perfect victim: an almost penniless college student in desperate need of any kind of job, no matter how bad the salary or the treatment by the one in charge.

The groan leaving his throat was deep and guttural, his hands wiping over his face.

Why did Pidge always have to be right?

“You okay?”

He glanced at mystery girl, her face filled with open concern and kindness.

“Nah, I’m fine. Just realized something.”

He turned, pebbles and fallen twigs digging into his back through the fabric of his hoodie.

“Doesn’t sound like it was a pleasant one.”

His chuckle came out rougher than intended. “Not really, no.”

Maybe it was time he quit. Maybe he had really gotten so desperate that he had lost sight of the long-term aim, as Hunk had reminded him.

He had reserves now; probably enough to get him by until he found something else. Some other job where his boss would not be a complete asshole.

As nice as Pidge’s suggestion had sounded, there was no way that his contract with Anita would allow him to take any more shifts. Also, and that thought alone drew a smile out of him, he no longer had to fear that he might have to choose between starving himself or paying his rent. His friends would never allow that to happen.

He wasn’t alone anymore, in a city far away from home. He had friends now.

But first, he needed to make things right again.

As for the situation with his mama… that would demand very careful planning and possibly cajoling Shiro into helping him write out a speech to formally ask for forgiveness. Honestly, the man was so good with words it was scary – he’d probably get people to jump off of roofs for him, no questions asked, if he really put his mind to it.

Okay, so:

1.       Apologize to the others.

2.       Apologize to his mama (and hope both his limbs and dignity would remain intact).

3.       Ditch his shitty job and get a new one.

Having a plan felt nice and it was with renewed vigor that he leapt to his feet, his new friend blinking at his sudden activity.

He threw her a smile, mind already working in overdrive.

“Sorry, but could I borrow your phone? Gotta call someone.”

He wasn’t even finished before the phone was already being pressed into his hand.

It took a few minutes, and a lot of reminders that he was owed for his generous services throughout the semester, but by the end of it all Lance was practically buzzing with unrestrained energy and thirst for some real action. Handing back the small device, ornamented with stones and glitter, he beamed at his friend.

“Man, thank you so so much! You’re a life savior!”

His enthusiasm was met with laughter.

“I hope this works out for you. Sounds like you have a long afternoon before you.”

“Naaah,” Lance drew out, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, “easy as pie.”

The joke earned him another chuckle, before amber eyes glinted with determination that mirrored his own.

“Now goooo! You got a job to do.”

“Well, if that ain’t the truth.” His hands automatically snapped into finger guns as his feet already carried him back up the slope.

“Good luck!”

And with one last wave back at her he ran for his next stop, feeling lighter than he ever would have thought possible after the morning he’s had.

It’s only later, when he is almost literally elbow-deep in his little project, that he realizes with a sudden curse that he completely forgot to ask for a first name.