#and snippets from previous drafts

[hell-o-elo]

I'm on my knees BEGGING people over on twitter to just read the goddamn extra content bc some of you were asking questions Nora answered YEARS ago like fuck you mean you're surprised Kevin is bisexual?????? he was in a polycule with Andrew and Neil in every other draft???? he fucked men at the nest????? he says it's easier to be straight to the public???? be so fr. and I can tell Nora is loving that she can just.......retell some jokes like the one about Andrew being too short for forehead kisses, but confirming Neil gives them anyway READ THE FUCKING EXTRA CONTENT YOU WILL BE HAPPIER I PROMISE

#aftg fandom #aftg #nora sakavic #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #also there are short stories in the extra content #and snippets from previous drafts #if youre obsessed like me it'll feed you #i swear if it's heavy extra content #or sad #you can tell #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men

[laundrybiscuits]

(part 3 of the not-hallmark fic, now tentatively titled grace coming out of the void)

It’s not too long before Robin tumbles through the door in a whirlwind of apologies.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Steve, wrapping her up in a bear hug. “Eddie kept me company.”

It’s true, actually. There’d been a few minutes of awkward silence, before Eddie’d visibly steeled himself and started making small talk with the grim determination of a general heading into battle. It would’ve been funny if it hadn’t made Steve feel like dirt just a little bit.

He’s trying, Steve had told himself firmly. Yeah, it sucked that Eddie clearly still had some kind of problem with him, but if he was willing to try this hard to get over it…well, the least Steve could do was try, too.

So they’d filled each other in on all the stupid unimportant details of their lives, the stuff that was easy to talk about, and gradually the talking got easier. They’d never been strangers, not really, but somehow over the years it had gotten so Steve could forget that Eddie was fun to be around. There hadn’t always been a weird sour feeling in Steve’s stomach that had to be ignored; there was Eddie’s hands looping in big descriptive shapes as he described some new student who has absolutely no idea why she’s in my class, Steve, I swear someone’s blackmailing the kid to be there, she just shows up and like, grimly struggles through whatever I give her. Won’t even tell me what she wants to play, and I’ve tried everything. I arranged Cyndi fuckin’ Lauper for this kid, Steve!

Eddie’s face, relaxed and bright-eyed, never happier than when he’s telling a story. The way Eddie cares so much about every little thing. Just being around him feels like sitting at a fireplace, soaking in the warmth and light. And when Steve manages to make him laugh, it feels like winning the damn lottery.

So they’ve managed to get on pretty well in Robin’s absence. Steve’s hoping it doesn’t take them another few years before they can have a real conversation again, like some kind of timer that needs to reset.

“Good,” says Robin. “Because you two are like my favorite people, and it would really suck if you couldn’t get along.”

“Favorite people?” Eddie drawls, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t wait to tell Ronnie that.”

“Oh my god, don’t you dare!” Robin shoves at his shoulder until he moves over so she can squeeze onto the couch with them.

“Am I finally going to get to meet the famous Veronica?” asks Steve. Robin’s been going on about her for a while, but he knows the relationship hasn’t been official for that long. So it’s fine, it’s normal that he hasn’t met his best friend’s girlfriend yet, and Eddie has.

“Yeah, of course,” says Robin. “She’ll be here in like an hour to set up for the party.”

Of course there’s a party. From what Steve hears, Robin and Eddie seem to be constantly throwing parties and having people over, a rotating cast of quirky personalities with artistic inclinations and improbable backstories.

This one’s not even really a party, Robin assures him; it’s just the new girlfriend plus a couple local friends. Or, one local friend and one Hawkinsite who’s in town for the holidays.

“You remember Jeff, right?” says Robin.

“Oh sure, Jeff, yeah,” says Steve. “And the other one’s…Hannah?”

“Helen, she’s an artist who’s been working with Eddie on an installation. She’s great, you’ll love Helen.”

———

Steve does not love Helen.

“Wait, it’s true?” Helen cuts in. “People actually thought Ed was a cult leader? Our Ed?”

Steve breathes through the flicker of annoyance. Eddie doesn’t belong to Hawkins anymore.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s, you know, a small town. Folks were just scared, is all.”

“Aww,” she coos. “It’s just so tough to imagine anyone being scared of this guy.” She ruffles Eddie’s hair and Eddie slaps her away, laughing.

“Yeah, it was a whole torches-and-pitchforks thing,” Eddie says. “I met this guy when I was on the run from some villagers who wanted to burn me at the stake. Me! Can you imagine?”

Steve huffs, amused. “Think I remember something about that meeting. Something like…you threatening me with a broken bottle at my neck? Ring any bells for you, Ed?”

“Wait…that’s not how you got those scars, is it?” Helen’s looking a little more hesitant, like she finally realizes there’s something here she can’t ever understand. Steve’s viciously pleased about it, then tries not to be. He doesn’t like strangers talking about all that shit like they can relate or something.

All he says is: “Nah. That was a little later. Eddie’s the reason I lived long enough to let this—” He rubs awkwardly at his neck, fingers skidding and pulling at the ugly ridges. “—scar at all.”

“Don’t listen to Harrington, he never wants to admit he’s a fuckin’ action hero. I barely did anything except freak out and almost get murdered. He saved my life for real, like, at least three or four times—think at this point he just owns my entire ass.”

Steve is tempted to ask why Eddie’s been avoiding him for the last six or seven years, if that’s the case, but he knows that’s not totally fair. Steve’s been doing a lot of avoiding too.

“Shoot,” says Helen. She’s still got an arm tucked into Eddie’s. “We’re all very grateful, Steve.”

Instead of saying I didn’t do it for you, Steve says, “Just, uh, glad I was there. I’m…gonna get some more wine.”

Robin catches him in the narrow hall leading to the kitchen. It’s a nice apartment, yeah, but Steve thinks the layout’s weird as hell compared to the right angles and neatly aligned walls of his place back in Hawkins.

“Everything okay, dingus?” she asks. The way the hall bends, they’re sheltered from the living room. It’s a soap bubble of privacy, fragile but whole.

“How do you handle people asking about—stuff?” Steve blurts out.

“It’s actually been easier here,” says Robin thoughtfully. “Because in Hawkins, people always think they know a lot more than they do. Remember how Vickie and I used to get into those big fights?”

Steve nods. He hadn’t really understood what was going on at the time, and Robin hadn’t been great at explaining. She’d talk up a storm, get all worked up, and at the end of it, all he’d get was that she was mad and Vickie didn’t understand why.

“Well, later on I realized that they’d always kick off when Vickie said something like, I know what you mean, or I was there too. Because she didn’t, and she wasn’t. With Ronnie, it’s like…she doesn’t get it, but she knows she doesn’t get it. It’s easier with her, I guess. How did you handle it with Laura?”

Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t, I guess. But she wasn’t, y’know. The One.”

“Still holding out for that fairy tale romance, huh?” Robin smiles. She’s just teasing him; she doesn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m really not,” says Steve. “Listen, I’m gonna—” He holds up his empty glass and escapes to the kitchen.

Jeff’s there, pouring some wine into his own glass, and fills up Steve’s without being asked.

Steve nods at him in thanks. It feels a little rude to just turn around and leave immediately, so he leans against the counter and takes a drink.

“So, uh,” says Steve. “How’ve…you been? Since, uh, Hawkins.”

Jeff gives him a wry smile. He definitely knows that Steve doesn’t remember him at all. “Not bad,” he says, drumming his fingertips on the counter. “I’m just in town visiting family for the week; I’m actually at Michigan right now, studying to be a doctor. I want to specialize in geriatrics—like, taking care of old people? But right now I’m in the part where they shuttle you around to different specialties to get a taste for everything.” He makes a face. “Surgery definitely ain’t my thing.”

“Shit. A doctor, huh?” Steve shakes his head, surprised for no real reason. It’s not like he hadn’t known that people from Hawkins could be smart; hell, he’d dated Nancy Wheeler. But this seemed like the kind of smart that just didn’t fit into his memory of Hawkins High. Other than Nancy, who—last he’d heard—was still sharing an apartment with two other girls and fighting her way up the ladder of some paper in Boston, nobody he’s kept tabs on has really gotten successful in a big-city way. Like, the kind of successful that could be on a TV show.

“Yeah, I was always into science. Used to keep caterpillars in my room, see if I could get ‘em to turn into butterflies. Drove my mama crazy, ‘cause she hated having critters in the house. But I just thought it was so wild how the caterpillars could have a whole life crawling around on the ground, and then their insides just rearrange, and suddenly they can fly. I was such a dramatic little shit, I was so damn sure I’d grow wings too.” Jeff laughs. It’s surprisingly nasal for such a broad-shouldered guy, and Steve decides he likes how unselfconscious Jeff is about it.

Steve reaches out to clink their glasses together. “Hey, you did, didn’t you? Got outta Hawkins, got to chase your fancy doctor dreams.”

“Guess I did.” Jeff nods and takes a slow sip of his wine. “Look…tell me to fuck off if this is too much, huh? But I gotta ask. Why’d you stick around? Why not get outta Hawkins too? Not that we knew each other or anything, but…even from the Hellfire table, it didn’t seem like you were having the greatest time, either. At least, not by the end.”

Hellfire, right, that’s how Jeff knows Eddie. A vague, blurry memory of seeing them both in those dorky shirts is surfacing.

“It’s not too much,” says Steve. “I don’t mind you asking. Don’t know that I’ve got an answer, though. I just didn’t have a plan like you guys, I guess.”

“Buddy.” Jeff laughs in that nasal way again and claps Steve on the shoulder. “None of us had a plan. I guess I did, a little more than the rest of them, but—I thought I wanted to be an ER doc, you know? Which, damn. Definitely not my scene, as it turns out. You don’t leave your hometown because you already know what you want out of life, even if you think that’s what you’re doing.”

“Getting philosophical in the kitchen?” Eddie appears in the doorway, empty glass dangling from his fingertips. “Congrats on being a cliche, guys.” He’s smiling, and it looks real. Happiness looks good on him.

“What’re you drinking?” says Steve. “Let me top you up.”

#I may need to rewatch the relevant bits of s3 before I write the next part of purify our misfit ways #so I'm not sure what's coming next but I had most of this written already #in very standard Me fashion—I like this snippet much less than the previous two but I just need to post the draft so I can stop fussing #I never know what to do with the hellfire lads so I'm just creating a characterization from scratch here #fic: grace coming out of the void

[kyofsonder]

Heads Up Seven Up 1

I’ve been tagged several times over the last 3.5 weeks to share the last seven lines from the WIP I was working on most recently --I'm counting "recently" as "closest to the time I was tagged" and starting with a tag from @late-to-the-fandom. Thank you for the tag, for your patience waiting for me to post this, and for the chance to share my writing!

I’ll tag: @talesofsorrowandofruin, @satanic-goth-writer, @wildjuniperjones, @lunarmoment, @pandawriterstuff, @365runesofwriting, @writingpotato07, and as always anyone else who wants to join in can say I tagged them!

Here’s the last seven lines of my novel WIP “To Be Honest”:

The sight makes him clench his jaw, feeling a familiar tension in his throat and ache in his temples. They're the usual precursor to -- no, he won't cry here. Not over something so asinine. He refuses to let that dream win over him. It might have come from his subconscious, but it has no more authority than that. It's only a coincidence. An indicator, if it indicates anything at all, that he'd heard this creature in his sleep during the night.

#writing #heads up seven up #sonder stories #sonder snippets #these specific lines #they've actually been rewritten since I first drafted this post #I had to cut out the version in the old post draft #then paste the current version #the previous version talked a lot about Finn #which wasn't bad #except in that it distracted from Micah #it distracted from the meaning of the scene #& the important emotions therein

[corishadowfang]

Find the Word Tag

Tagged by @siarven--thanks for the tag!

I debated a bit on what WIP I was going to do this for, since either a) my document is mostly a collection of revamped worldbuilding and character stuff (On my Heart), or b) most of what I have’s already been posted to Ao3 (Dandelion Seeds, On the Edge of Daybreak).  Ended up going with the most recent actual draft of On my Heart, so it’s...it’s not super recent, haha, but at least a lot of it hasn’t been posted anywhere.

The words I’m looking for are grey, scream, sky and pretty.

Grey

When he came to, someone murmured, “Relax, dear.  I’m not here to hurt you.  Just figured I wouldn’t be able to get time alone to talk.”

A strange woman sat on his windowsill, head half-tilted towards the outside world.  Her scraggly dirty-blond hair was corralled into a pony tail, a sleeveless gray hoodie and sweatpants hanging loosely on her stocky frame.  The green of her Familiar flickered under her tan skin and highlighted the color of her eyes.

The first thing Aiden blurted was, “Are you the ghost?”

Scream

The very last time she’d seen him had been in a hospital room, a little under a year ago, where he apologized quietly but never quite met her eyes, and Jackie had wanted to scream that she’d wanted a friend and not an apology, but everything had still felt too raw for the words to come out right.

Sky

Aiden blinked, dimly aware of the fact that the sky had brightened, and that there were other people around him, and that logically he should move before he was noticed.

Kiru asked, Why are we at the school?

I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.  I didn’t mean to come here.  His legs felt rooted in place.  One hand reached out, fingers wrapping around the chain link fence.

Are we going to leave?

Yeah.  Yeah, in a minute.  He swallowed, eyes darting haphazardly around the crowd.

Aiden.

I know.  I know, but I just—  He smothered a broken laugh.  Is it weird to say that I miss school?

Pretty

Gertrude studied him a few moments, then sighed, tilting her head back a running a hand over her face. “Yeah, kid.  That sounds pretty accurate.  You done throwing a temper tantrum?  You think we can continue?”

“You should have told me. You shouldn’t have—I had the right to know.”

“You could have known.”  An edge had finally entered Gertrude’s voice.  “I wasn’t particularly subtle about the fact that I wanted to study what happened with you.  You knew that I had ulterior motives when I broke you out.  You don’t get to be upset about that now.”

I’ll tag @zmwrites, @maple-writes, @cookiecutterwrites, @pens-swords-stuff, and @talesabound, and anyone who wants to do this, since it’s been a while, haha.

#tag game #find the word tag game #on my heart #thank you for tagging me!! #i miss doing these haha #i just sometimes end up debating 'what...what am i going to use...?' #posted more for the snippets than i usually do because it's Been A While #and also because omh is getting a pretty major revamp #so a lot of this is probably going to be rewritten anyways #but there's still quite a bit of stuff i like from the previous draft! #so i'm sharing some of it

[jo-harrington]

Interview Prep (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried about making a change to some routines.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.03

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Meeting the Family, Anxiety, Fluff

Note: Special thanks to @chestylarouxx @fracturedarkness and @courtingchaos for reading my snippets, listening to my rambling, and easing my nerves with this one. It's been in my drafts since February! And it's always kind of eluded me, but it's very special so I appreciate the time you took to help me out. So so much.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

“…and I swear the sound is so much better than my Fender. Like a thousand times better. I’m gonna need a new amp, I think. She is way too good for that hunk of junk that Rick got from his buddy way back when.”

“Uh huh.”

“God, I wish you could come to a show to hear it. Maybe...maybe I can ask Tom at the Hideout if our set could be a little later one night so you could come out after the store closed?"

"Sure."

“And then we could get pickle and bologna milkshakes at Benny's afterwards."

"Sounds great."

"Am I boring you?” Eddie finally stopped as he hit the button on the bailer and put his hands on his hips. "You're not even listening."

“What?” You freed yourself from your thoughts and got a good look at him. "I...what? No."

It was break time, which meant cardboard got crushed and garbage tossed before you ventured into the food court for something to eat. And on a day like today when your schedules aligned, that also meant your break was spent with your closest friend--only friend--in Hawkins.

And on any other day, you would have happily listened to his story.

Hell, you actually had listened to him...for most of it at least--he boasted about his new guitar, how he named her Sweetheart, and her first actual performance outside of Gareth's garage that had occurred the night prior--before you got too caught up in your own head.

It had been a normal Wednesday when you got to the store for your opening shift. The registers were counted, gate pushed up, and you were about to confidently post the new schedule.

Then the mail was delivered.

And with it, a larger envelope from home office that contained a very hefty packet inside.

Normally a package like that would make you happy; it was a sign that one of your favorite weeks of the year was approaching: planogram week. It was, quite honestly, not only your favorite week but your favorite part of the job altogether. More than your team, more than your discount...certainly more than helping customers.

Summer was coming to an end, which meant all of the trendy accessories would make way for backpacks, water bottles, notebooks, and lunch boxes. Things that stayed hidden away for 75% of the year, but were suddenly at the forefront of every parent and pre-teen's mind as they got ready to look their best on the first day of school.

Today, however, you suddenly felt a sense of dread as you opened the package because a planogram meant that you would have to schedule an overnight shift on the one night of the week that the mall closed early.

Sunday Night.

Date Night with Eddie.

Eddie's favorite night. And yours.

Your favorite part of your job encroached on what was becoming an essential part of your life.

So you spiraled until your break because it was easier to worry and overthink than it was to just...communicate the fact that you might have to miss a Sunday and face the possibility that Eddie could be mad at you.

Unfortunately he seemed a little steamed right now because he thought you hadn't been listening to him.

His little grumpy face was cute though.

Why was this harder than having to call your team to ask if they were ok with an unexpected overnight shift? God damn it, you needed to get a grip.

“You weren’t listening to anything I said,” he repeated.

“Yes I was,” you insisted.

“What did I say then?”

“You nailed the solo.”

“And…”

“And you actually got a round of applause.”

“And?”

“And you need a new amp.”

“And?”

“Uhm… a-and…”

Shit…maybe you had delved a little bit too far.

Growing up with a big, loud family--including an overbearing mother and two annoying brothers--meant you had the innate ability to split your brain in half and listen to them while also worrying about your own shit.

However, thanks to the intensity of your worrying, that ability failed you.

You wracked your brain for a good 30 seconds until Eddie’s scowl turned into a wicked smile, and then you knew he was just being a jerk.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled at him.

“Excuse me,” he placed a hand on his chest in fake affront and stumbled back a few steps to collapse against the side of the trash compactor. “I'm the worst? You agreed to Pickle and Bologna milkshakes and ignored your best friend. Not very metal, sweetheart."

"I just have a lot on my mind." You shook your head and sighed. "Sorry."

"Well it's a good thing that I am a great listener. Unlike someone."

Eddie pushed himself off the compactor, put his hand on your shoulder, and guided you back inside to the food court. You got your meals of choice and tucked yourselves into a table in the corner by the JCPenney entrance.

"Alright," he started with his mouth full of fries. "Tell dear old Eddie what's bothering you."

You swallowed a mouthful of food and took a deep breath.

It was now or never.

"Well...there's this big thing coming up at work...planogram...uh...floor set," you began. "And it's really important and after it's done...we'll get visitors from corporate and my boss will probably make a few visits to see how it's going. I just want to do really well."

"Well, you've been doing a good job so far right?" Eddie shrugged. "Why wouldn't they think so now?"

"I don't know, I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted. "I'm a new store manager. And a lot of the team never worked retail before. I literally cried my first floor set as a sales associate. It's tough."

"You're just giving yourself the yips. I do it all the time when we add a new song to the set list."

"Don't just say that to make me feel better."

"Last week I forgot how to do a G-chord," he crossed his heart. "Scouts honor."

"You were a Boy Scout?" you asked skeptically.

"Stop distracting me." He popped another French fry in his mouth in an exaggerated fashion. "What else?"

"Well...we have to schedule floor sets on a Sunday."

"Ok."

"After the store closes."

"...Oh."

"Yeah."

Eddie sipped his drink thoughtfully and stared at you with his abyss-like eyes; they didn't betray a single thought going through his head and it made you nervous.

And nervous meant that you didn't shut up.

"I mean I don't want to have to cancel our night out," you started with the word vomit. "It's just the way things are always done and you'll see one day if you still work at Tape World for long enough, that's one of those things that...I don't know, if you try to do things differently it always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"And I'm young and whenever we have a conference call to talk about sales...my DM doesn't let me forget that I'm a baby compared to everyone else and it's so frustrating because I feel like I can't even suggest anything new because it immediately is dismissed as naive. It's like they keep waiting for me to fail. So I wish...I wish I could make a change so we could keep our plans. Like if it was anything else I could make it work but I...this thing I just can't, you know?

"But...but...b-because I would have to work on Sunday overnight I would probably be off another day so if you're ok with it we can do something else? Maybe on...I don't think I could get Tuesday off because of everyone's availability...maybe Friday if your friends are cool with me crashing your club night. Or...you open on Saturdays. We could do Saturday night instead?"

The punctuation to the drawn out sentence was your labored breath and Eddie noisily sucking the dregs of his soda through the straw. Shithead that he was didn't even have the decency to do anything but continue watching you with his big dumb cute eyes.

"Weeellllll..." he started in a sing-song tone and then paused and sucked at the straw some more.

Could he just tell you to fuck off already so this wouldn't be as painful as it was?

"That really sucks you need to work overnight," he finished his thought with a grin and shoved his cup to the side. "Being in the mall after hours...sounds kinda creepy. Do you think there are ghosts?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" you deadpanned. "You let me go on and on like that for nothing?"

"It was funny."

"I hate you."

"You cherish me."

"It was painful." You groaned. "Like I think I'm sweating. My heart hurts Edward."

"Don't act like you've never let me do that before," he scoffed and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. You threw a fry at him. "Don't start what you can't finish sweetheart. One fry can turn into a food fight and I would hate to find out the hard way why I'm Hawkins High's food fighting champion."

"Ok so...Saturday night?" you asked. "This Saturday...are you doing anything?"

"Uh..." Eddie hesitated and sat up a little straighter. "I mean...no hot dates or anything. What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe just what we normally do?" you suggested. "Drive around, eat a bunch of junk food. Or if you want to come over to my place and I--"

"So, I have a confession to make," he interrupted you. "I actually do have plans on Saturday. More like...standing plans than anything. My uncle Wayne is off on Saturdays and we've always watched reruns on TV and ordered pizza. Family night or whatever. My mom used to do the same thing so...Wayne thought it would be...I dunno, good for stability or something.

"It's silly but I don't want to just ditch him without asking," Eddie explained and your heart melted.

Of course you didn't want to take time away from his family; you knew how important his uncle was to him.

"Oh...well that's ok...we can rain check for another day then or--"

"Why don't you just come over?" Eddie asked. "He won't mind. I am opening this Saturday so I'll be done by 5; you can get there in time for Wheel of Fortune. That way he can't yell at me when I try to solve the puzzles with lewd words." He mimics, what you assume is, Wayne's voice.

Eddie looked so eager that you immediately agreed.

Your heart stopped in your chest though.

Come over? And meet his uncle?

Sure...you'd already met Benny a few weeks ago...and yeah you'd thought of it like meeting someone from Eddie's family but...this was his actual family. What if you insulted his uncle or...or made yourself look stupid.

You needed to put your best foot forward. Make a good impression.

"How about..." your mouth started moving before your brain could catch up. "...instead of ordering pizza, I cook for you guys instead? I'll be off Saturday since I'm doing the overnight on Sunday. I can just bring everything over."

Eddie's eyes lit up and as he teased you about the impressive cooking skills that you had supposedly boasted about previously, all you could think was...

How did this situation get even more stressful?

---

The rest of the week leading up to Saturday had been overwhelming to say the least.

To you, food was life. Cooking for someone was everything that you could do to show them that you cared. How many hours had you spent with your grandma making cookies for neighbors at Christmas, or freezer meals when a distant relative had a baby, or a tray of something after a friend of the family had passed.

Food was love and friendship, and as much as what you had done for Eddie with the guitar had been a show of friendship...this meant so much more.

So you needed to hit a home run...or a bullseye...or whatever sports terminology signified that you won.

Which meant you'd spent some down time flipping through your grandma's old recipes that she had gifted you once upon a time--a thin, pocket-sized spiral notebook with a purple cover that was filled with her illegible handwriting and personal shorthand--and thinking of ideas that would be both impressive and hearty. You'd already changed your mind twice, and had made just as many trips to Bradleys for extra ingredients.

You'd also pestered Eddie several times through the course of the week to get his input without giving anything away.

"Does your uncle like cheese?"

"Of course he does."

"Some people don't."

"Would we get pizza every Saturday if we didn't like cheese?"

"There's some pizza that doesn't have cheese."

"Why the questions? Are you nervous sweetheart?"

And that was when he started to tease you. Every chance he got. Lunches, breaks, passing you on the way to the employee lot as you started a shift and he ended one.

He asked if you wanted their phone number so you could call Wayne and make kissy noises at each other for hours, if you wanted him to bring love letters home to save on stamps, and if you were planning to dress really nice for your date with his uncle.

"I'll be sure to grab extra chapstick for him so his lips are ready for you tomorrow," he laughed and leaned closer to make the biggest, noisiest smacking kiss noise in your ear as you waited for your break time cookies.

"You're an idiot," you rolled your eyes after he uttered the last one. "I don't want him to hate me because...what if he doesn't want me to hang around you anymore. I'd kind of lose my mind."

"Oh, uh," Eddie backed away a little bit and rubbed the back of his neck, then shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Wayne wouldn't do that. He's...a little bit of a grump, but he's harmless."

"Guess we know where you got it from," you muttered.

"I didn't know you were...actually worried," Eddie continued. "I'm sorry. But it'll be ok. Even if you...wore a potato sack and brought canned beans that we had to heat on the stove for dinner. He'll think you're great. Because you are."

You were both a little silent after that, Eddie staring at his feet bashfully as you felt your heart race and your head spin.

You finalized your plans that night when you got home and immediately started on your dessert, sure that it was all gonna be a hit with both Munsons.

It was gonna be great. Because Eddie thought you were great.

And Saturday, the doubt didn't creep on you at all. Not while you cooked, not as you packed your casserole dish and Tupperware into a large cooler bag, and not even as you drove across town, following Eddie's directions to Forest Hills without getting lost once.

It wasn't until you stepped out of your car and stared at the front door that you felt your stomach drop a little.

Those four cement steps might as well have been a thousand.

But...your sneakers only needed to crunch on the gravel before the door was thrown open and a slightly-breathless Eddie smiled at you...and then all the worry disappeared.

"Hey," he greeted. "D-did you need any help?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," you shrugged.

He jogged down the steps in socked-feet and crossed to the passenger's side door of your car, talking a mile a minute as he reached in to grab your things.

"I, uh, got home an hour ago," he rambled. "The A/C at the store conked out...and then Paulie had me make a trash run before I left. Had a big shipment today. So if I'm still a little sweaty...that's why."

"You're fine," you laughed.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry. I've been cooking so I'm probably a little sweaty too. Lasagna and July...sort of don't go together that well."

He raced up the steps and held the door open for you.

"Lasagna? Oh the old man is gonna love you," Eddie chuckled.

You entered the Munson abode and were immediately hit by the strongest sense of home that you'd felt since...well, since you'd still been at home. Not necessarily that it was a place where you belonged, but...it was a place of belonging.

Mugs and hats and other memorabilia lined the walls, reminiscent of the tchotchkes that your mother stacked to high heaven on every available surface. The couch was a little faded but looked comfortable and soft as though you could sink into the cushions and disappear into a soft nether-realm.

Your grandpa had a couch like that. His spot sunk to the shape of his body. It was still your favorite place to sit when he wasn't already there. It was like a hug.

That was when your eyes found the armchair, molded around the shape of the man seated in it. He was older, a little weathered and greying, hairline receding, and even though he isn't smiling right now, the lines around his mouth were indication enough that he smiled quite a bit.

Just like his nephew.

"Uh, Wayne this is my friend from the mall," Eddie introduced you as he juggled your cooler bag and your large Tupperware to the kitchen counter. "The one I told you about. Works at the jewelry store."

"Nice to meet you," you smiled and held a hand out to him to shake. He took your hand in a firm grasp and as you shook his the way your grandfather taught you--to command respect and trust--his eyes narrowed.

"I had to hear about you through Rick, who heard about you through Benny," Wayne started. "And I haven't the slightest idea why my nephew thought he needed to keep you a secret; not the first girlfriend he's brought around--"

Eddie groaned something unintelligible from the kitchen and you fought the urge to break eye contact with Wayne so you could look at him.

"--but I just watched him run around for the past hour tidying up. And he's never done that before. So if you can help him keep the habit, you're alright in my book." Wayne smiled widely and let your hand go.

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, suddenly realizing how silly it had been that you were even worried in the first place.

Eddie had been right.

You could never admit that to him.

"Even did the dishes," Wayne looked past you at Eddie. "He never does the dishes."

"W-we're having dinner," Eddie whined. "Gotta have clean plates."

The two of them bantered back and forth comfortably and you joined Eddie in the kitchen to get everything plated. There was a salad, buttery mashed potatoes, and of course your still-warm and gooey lasagna.

Eddie explained that it was Wayne's favorite that he rarely got to have homemade--

"Stoffers will do in a pinch," Wayne explained.

--and that you were already more loved than he was simply for making it, to which Wayne agreed. And he even pointed out the well-loved Garfield mug that he had gotten Wayne for Father's Day one year for that fact alone.

Eddie tried to protest when you took the dessert bowl from him to stow it away in the fridge until it was the appropriate time.

"I didn't even get to have cookies with you today," he reasoned. "Or a soda. See? I suffer when you're not working. How am I--a growing boy--supposed to reach my fullest potential without proper sustenance?"

You snorted and brought the plates out to the living area while Eddie trailed behind you.

"He's just grumpy because you're making him eat vegetables," Wayne chuckled as he took his plate. "A feat I have yet to achieve in 8 years. So if you weren't already in my good books, you are now."

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully at first. You and Eddie sat on the couch--which was just as comfy as you thought it would be--as Wayne occupied the armchair. They inhaled their first helping and showered you with compliments. Eddie begrudgingly admitted that your cooking was as good as you had bragged, and even said the dressing on your salad "wasn't Ranch but was still pretty tasty."

As Eddie had told you days ago, Wheel of Fortune started promptly at 7:30 and he and Wayne tried to solve as many puzzles as possible around mouthfuls of food. They teased each other when their guesses were particularly ridiculous, and celebrated when they got one right.

You solved a long puzzle correctly--your only contribution to their little competition--before there were very many tiles revealed on the board and Eddie patted your thigh in praise when you got it right with a soft "that's my girl" that nearly had you drop your plate.

When Wheel ended, Wayne stood up to grab seconds for himself and Eddie and a couple of beers for you all. Before he sat back down he grabbed a tape from a basket beside the television and popped it into the VCR.

"I hope you don't mind," he said sheepishly. "I like the background noise and Love Boat doesn't start til 9."

As the static on the screen cleared, you were treated to a good look of a Map to Illustrate the Ponderosa in Nevada.

"Mind? I love Bonanza," you laughed, and Eddie groaned beside you.

"No I already have to endure Wayne and Rick and their western reruns, and now you too?"

Conversation then turned to you. Turned to the usual stuff that you talked about when you met someone new. And you really...didn't like talking about yourself. The middle child and the only girl with two strong-willed brothers and parents that liked to pick and pick and pick at every imperfection; it was ingrained in you.

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to really like to talk to you, at you, about you.

"I work at Claire's. We do like...ear piercing and cute accessories for kids."

"She works there? She's the store manager. And the youngest one in the company. Right? Is that...no...in the district. Anyway..."

And where you faltered, he picked up the reins.

"I mean it's just community college. Everyone graduates. I'm not smart or anything."

"Are you shitting me right now? Sweetheart I can't even graduate high school."

Eagerly.

"And there was this one time, I shit you not Wayne," Eddie's hands mimed as he tried to tell his story. "She literally balanced on one foot on the top rung of a ladder. Had to have been...20 feet high...to get this kitten that was stuck on top of the bailer. How it got there? I couldn't tell you."

"It was not the top rung."

"It was."

"It wasn't 20 feet!"

"Let me tell the story."

"I'm supposed to be telling the story," you laughed at him.

"Ok, you're right, but you weren't telling it good enough," Eddie argued. "You have to emphasize."

"He means fib," Wayne clarified.

"I mean...bend the truth for entertainment purposes only," Eddie explained rapidly.

Eventually dinner was done and it was time for dessert, which Eddie eagerly followed you into the kitchen for.

"How am I doing?" you asked nervously as you rummaged in the fridge.

"You're doing great. How many times do I have to tell you he would like you?" he huffed good-naturedly.

"I don't know, I just needed reassurance."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed. "You're doing great. I'm sure he'll be asking me when the next time you'll be over is so he can maybe get some more lasagna. He doesn't just let anyone watch A Rose for Lotta with him. You're special."

"Am I?"

"You're special to me."

You looked up at Eddie a little shocked and he smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

You couldn't get your hopes up. You just...couldn't.

"What's taking so long in there?" Wayne asked as he ejected the tape from the VCR so he could flip to ABC. You both looked over and found him watching you with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

"I dunno," Eddie replied petulantly. "Someone's withholding my reward."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another set of plates from the drying rack by the sink. You opened your container to reveal the fluffy green mounds of pudding and whipped cream and marshmallows studded with bright maraschino cherries.

"Sweetheart, you didn't," Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned over to look into the Tupperware.

"I did," you beamed.

The perfect end to a great night.

Because you might not have known that lasagna was Wayne's favorite.

But you knew that Watergate salad was Eddie's.

---

It was late by the time Eddie walked you out to your car, way past your usual bedtime, and later than you should have been up especially considering that you would be doing the overnight tomorrow.

The dessert had been consumed in its entirety; once you and Wayne had your fill, Eddie ate the remainder out of the bowl looking, quite literally, like a kid in a candy store. And as Captain Stubing and Doc Bricker bickered aboard the Pacific Princess, you began dozing on Eddie's shoulder.

He shook you awake and you said your goodbyes to Wayne.

"You're welcome anytime," he insisted as you headed to the door. "Lasagna or no. Don't let Ed trick you into spoiling us. He's still young but my waistband can't handle it."

And now you were standing with Eddie, the driver's side door between you as you sort of refused to get in and drive away. It was a real Midwest Goodbye.

"I'll see you at work..." you fumbled over your words as you tried to think of the next time you'd actually get to see him. You had the overnight tomorrow, and you'd be off Monday. Eddie would be off Tuesday which meant... "Oh god, well...Wednesday? That seems so far away."

"It doesn't have to be Wednesday," Eddie shrugged. "What if I brought you breakfast on Monday? After your floor set is over?"

"God that's gonna be so early for you," you dismissed his idea.

"So? You just made us the best dinner and there's leftovers for a few days, which you didn't want. Let me get you breakfast."

"I don't want to put you out."

The two of you bickered back and forth for a minute before you put your foot down and told him to sleep in because he had to close on Monday night.

"Thanks though," you said. "This was nice. Family dinner at home. It was really nice. Makes me a little homesick but...I guess Hawkins is my home for now."

"Hey, of course, any time," Eddie replied. He looked pensive for a second and then turned so he didn't have to look at you. Like he was hesitant about what you would say or think. "We don't...I mean I guess what I mean is...I really enjoy hanging out on Sundays and I know this is sort of a one-off thing. But...you know we don't only have to hang out on Sundays. We can do...I mean...have dinner again sometimes or meet you after work even if I'm off...or see a movie again...get something from Family Video or..."

"You wanna hang out with me more?" you cut into his rambling.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Friends hang out all the time but..." You shrugged. "Don't...skip out on...I mean I guess I don't know what it is you do with the guys outside of band practice and DnD. Don't skip out on them just for me."

"No, hey now, wait," Eddie held his hand out to stop you. "Those turds already see me all the time and are gonna see me more once school's back in session. And...I'll probably work less so...I'll take any time with you now that I can get."

"Alright." You beamed.

"Alright." He mirrored you. "More non-Sunday hangouts."

You agreed and he held out his pinky. You immediately hooked yours into it.

“See you Wednesday sweetheart,” Eddie said his farewell. “Don’t dream of me too much.”

---

"Alright guys, it's almost 7am, time to clean up," you announced to your overnight crew with a clap of your hands.

It had been a fun but trying night, but ultimately successful.

Saturday had been perfect but your whole Sunday routine had already been thrown off and you spent a majority of your day sleeping and cleaning and wondering what Eddie was getting up to at work.

As you predicted, everyone was more than a little confused by the planogram booklet but you were a patient teacher. Everyone thought they had an eye for store layout until they were faced with twenty shipment boxes of pencil cases and locker decor. You had to talk a few of them down from near-panics several times throughout the night.

Over the course of the floorset, side ponytails became even more askew than normal, a few pairs of shoes got kicked into a pile by the gate, and everyone turned into tired, sweaty messes.

To keep morale up, you had insisted on everyone bringing a favorite tape that alternated in the shop radio and you had stocked up at Bradley's with an assortment of sugary snacks and drinks for the break room. Thankfully, the treats had prevented anyone from bursting into tears or threatening to quit, as you had witnessed countless times during your time working in retail.

You really channeled Eddie's sweet tooth when making your choices and it had paid off.

But after 12 hours of unpacking, stacking, dusting, shifting, and sliding, you were all ready to go home.

You ushered everyone out of the store and locked the gate behind you, and as the group walked toward the employee exit, excitement had returned. Pride for a seemingly-impossible task completed.

"The store looks so good! Mindy is gonna shit herself when she comes in to open."

"Oh my god, do you think we're gonna have a store visit? Can you let me know what they think of the hair wall?"

"We're gonna make so many sales! Who can say no to that unicorn backpack?"

You entertained their conversation but when you set foot outside and saw a familiar van parked next to your car, you lost all ability to speak.

He had said he was gonna surprise you with breakfast...but you told him not to. Of course he didn't listen; it had you rolling your eyes in annoyed amusement.

God you knew everyone was a gossip, this was gonna get to Mindy and then she was gonna give you an earful. She already let you have it when she heard about your invitation to dinner.

You quickly thanked your team and ushered them to their cars before you meandered towards yours. You ignored the questioning looks that they shot you as you hesitated to get into your car but you waved goodbye as they drove away.

When the last car left the lot, you immediately stormed over to the passenger's side door of the van and threw it open to find a McDonald's bag on the seat, two coffees in the cupholders, and a tired-eyed Eddie in the driver's seat. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with Kiss's Beth.

"I'm always somewhere else," he turned his upper body towards you dramatically and began serenading you. "And you're always there alone."

"Unbelievable," you scoffed at him.

"Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling. Oh Beth what can I do?" He slapped his hands against the steering wheel dramatically. "Beth what can I do?"

You climbed into the passengers seat, closed the door behind you, and opened the McDonalds bag to the delightful smell of hot, fresh, crispy hash browns and egg McMuffins.

"If it's not obvious," Eddie announced as he reached across the van to shove his hand into the bag for a hash brown of his own. "I'm Beth in this scenario because you left me alone for hours and hours and hours last night."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah I got into all sorts of trouble."

“I told you not to bring breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

"You didn't need to come if you were tired."

"I wanted to and I pretty much do whatever I want anyways," he insisted, and then thankfully focused on his food as you felt your face heat up.

"Well, if you'd like to know, me and the boys were not actually playing all night," you remarked and dug the sandwiches out of the brown bag. You handed one to Eddie, whose mouth was already full of salty, potatoey goodness after he'd shoved the hash brown in one piece. His cheeks were all round and full like a chipmunks and you held back a giggle.

God he was too cute. And he brought you breakfast after a long overnight shift. And he had called you his girl and told you you were special. How were you supposed to stop yourself from having a crush on him if this was...just how he was?

The two of you got to talking about your night, about his Sunday shift, about what you did before work, about what he did after it. And it was nice.

And as you sat there watching him slurp the hot coffee and watch the sparse traffic around the mall dive, you finally found the right words and the strength not to make an absolute fool of yourself.

"This was really nice of you, Eddie. You're wonderful."

He put his hand on his chest and looked a little sheepish.

"I'm wonderful?"

"You're wonderful to me."

---

Next Part: Corrective Action

The tag list is currently suspended.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #store manager verse #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #stranger things Eddie munson

[natalievoncatte]

Here's a quick snippet of something I'm working on. This is from a discarded draft, but I'm still thinking of rewriting it and using it as the cold open for the story.

The bullet in her leg was going to be a problem.

Lena had been in scrapes before. This was, after all, the third version of her armor, each one built after the previous one had failed her in some way. It had taken her six long years to work out the balance between strength and agility, speed and power; to enhance her stealth abilities and find the right balance of preparation vs weight in her equipment. Prior to that she'd spent almost ten years preparing for her mission. Traveling, studying, learning, inventing.

At first her only concern had been blades and bullets. That had been easy to deal with. Her armored suit consisted of a base layer of electrically activated fibers that simulated fast twitch muscle fibers and could boost her overall strength output five fold, making her the physical equal or better of any enemy she might encounter in the field. A layer of kevlar-nomex triweave and proprietary composite armor plating over that made her quick and agile but well protected against guns and knives.

Tonight she'd learned that well protected wasn't totally protected.

It was almost funny, after everything that had happened in those five years, everything she'd overcome, that a gang of corrupt cops and mob thugs would be the ones to take her down.

Oh, and make no mistake, she had been taken down. She might have escaped the Axis Chemical factory, but she wasn't going to make it to the extraction point, and she knew it. She wasn't going to make it to Alfred this time.

They'd find her, eventually, pry her out of the armor, and reveal to the world that the Batman had been Lena Wayne all along. Of all the things she regretted as the plain flared in her thigh and she felt hot blood flowing beneath the inner layer of her suit, Lena was surprised to find that one of the things she'd regret most was not getting to see the looks on their faces when they found out.

She'd faced down plant toxins and freeze cannons and a shape-shifting monster. Aliens and metahumans and magicians. She'd taken them all on and come up ahead.

You know what? Lena decided, this isn't too bad. No, it wasn't a good death, but she was going out on her terms, knowing that she'd made some small difference. Maybe someone else could carry on her work. She'd left journals behind, set out instructions for what was to be done with her inventions and technology and the Wayne fortune. She would leave good in the world behind her. Martha and Thomas, the people who'd taken her in and raised her, would be proud. Bruce, her little brother who'd been the bravest man she ever knew, would be proud.

Maybe it would be a good death after all.

Lena stumbled through the open construction, threading between exposed I-beams. It wasn't in her to give up, to stop limping forward. She'd locked out her wounded leg, turning the suit rigid so she could hobble on it, and had already hit herself with an adrenaline auto-injector to keep her eyes open. She could make it to the extraction if she just kept moving.

Just keep moving.

As she limped forwards, Lena wondered how she'd get down. One problem at a time. She was in no shape to use a grapple line to get to street level. Keep moving. The pain in her leg was shocking, excruciating. She wondered if the bullet had fractured her femur. Maybe. She'd been hurt before, of course. Bullet to the back that slipped between armor plates and punched through, once, and all the ones that didn't hurt like hell anyway; it was like being pummeled with baseballs.

The display on the inside of her cracked helmet was lit up with warning lights and messages she didn't have time to parse. She knew what some of them were: Corrosive damage to the suit, drained power cells, her vitals plummeting, and the repeating all points bulletins declaring that the Batman was to be arrested on sight for the murder of Jack Napier.

Lena made it to the edge and leaned on a steel beam, looking down. Two blocks over to the extraction point. Alfred would be waiting for her. He'd get her out of the suit, patch her up, make it better. Alfred always made it better. She had to try. She had to try to get back.

Fumbling, she almost tumbled right off the edge until she slumped against the beam, her wounded leg starting to slide out from under her. She had to hug the steel to pull herself back up, prop herself up on the locked armor segments.

No, she wasn't going to make it, she realized. This was it. No heroic last stand, no final sacrifice, just bleeding out in a half-finished bougie apartment complex that had been stripped of all its copper five times. Lena wanted to laugh, but her lungs could only wheeze.

She almost didn't realize it when the half-skeletal building shook from a gust of wind.

No, not a wind. A blur of motion.

Her HUD lit up with proximity alarms, the onboard computers panicking when the sensor systems started failing from lack of power or severe damage. She really wanted to laugh. What now?

Turning, Lena put a hand on the beam to keep herself upright, and sighed.

No amount of preparation, no amount of refinement to her suit, would ever prepare her for this.

The Kryptonian strode across the plywood construction floor, cape majestically billowing behind her. Even in the dark she seemed alive with light, haloing her flawless golden curls and alive in her sky blue eyes, like she brought the sun with her. Her bright blue and red uniform stood in stark contrast against the muted grays, blues, and blacks of Gotham by night. Below them, sirens wailed. Hunters on the prowl for their wounded prey.

"What do you want?" Lena rasped. Her helmet altered her force into a deep growl.

"Batman," said Supergirl, "there's an all points bulletin out for your arrest."

"What else is new?"

Even now, she was the detective, stalling. The helmet's systems were scanning Supergirl's face, matching against her own facial recognition database using algorithms she'd written herself. The suit did all this automatically, so that she had complete files when she returned to the Cave.

"They're saying you killed a man tonight," said Kara. "I'm taking you in."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Lena coughed, the sound exploding in a garbled belch from her damaged helmet.

"You can barely stand," said Supergirl. "That wound in your leg needs medical attention. Just let me help you."

"Help me?" Lena spat, reaching for her belt. "Don't be absurd."

"You're coming with me either way," said Supergirl, edging closer. "Trying to fight me is pointless. You don't stand a chance."

"Want to test that theory?" said Lena.

Supergirl shook her head.

The suit came back with a facial recognition match.

DANVERS, KARA.

Her biographical data began to scroll across Lena's vision. She dismissed it with a laugh.

"It figures," she muttered.

"What?" said Supergirl. She moved closer. "I can hear your heart rate decreasing. I'll take you to a hospital. I promise, you'll get a fair hearing, you just-"

Lena laughed again. "A fair hearing. You must be joking."

Supergirl edged closer. "Wait. You're using a voice changer."

Lena's eyes shot open wide inside her helmet. "How... of course. Superhuman hearing, right?"

"Wait," said Kara, "wait, I know that voice. Lena?"

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #Bat!Lena #AU #what if the waynes adopted Lena instead

[dayurno]

No but for real killing Jean like that would be like an objectively bad writing choice. Same thing I think with the Kandreil draft where everyone thought Andreil was cheating on Kevin. There are some previous drafts things I think that are geniunely better as Nora's inside thoughts

it’s not that i disagree with you or anything but the reason i shared that snippet of her saying that in other drafts jean would have committed suicide while ON THE PHONE with KEVIN is that i think it’s deranged. it’s insane. it’s crazy enough to be funny. i’d give everything to read that draft

but on a more serious note: a world where something like that could happen is interesting to me. the way she put it didn’t even seem like jean’s choosing of kevin to witness his last moments was a punishment — instead kevin was, as simply put as possible, the person jean wanted to sit with him while he did perhaps the scariest thing he’s ever done. i think suicide as a theme in a story like aftg might feel as the author refusing to give a character the place or the time to heal, but in this specific situation, perhaps it *was* the choice that made jean feel more at peace with himself. ritualistic, almost, in how he reaches out for the only friend he’s ever had and asks him to accompany him to the other side. the sending off of an old friend, even if i can’t see kevin ever recovering from that phone call

in the end it might not be the dignified ending people would want for a character as beloved as jean. and it’s understandable! really it is. what matters to me is less that it happened in a draft far far far away, and rather what this says about jean and the fact that he thought the only way he could meaningfully show any support or love for kevin was to die. how he was willing to sacrifice himself again and again in every draft because he felt kevin’s & neil’s lives were worth more than his. i think this goes over most peoples’ heads when they consume mostly fanon, but jean was described in the books as having blind loyalty towards riko: when he’s taken to palmetto, he tries to go back TWICE before kevin sits him down and convinces him to stay. you didn’t think i was joking when i called jean a dog, did you?

#asks #jean #kevjean #jean is quite literally the loyal dog in this book because hes been groomed and beaten into that role #he does everything riko asks of him because he knows what the punishment for disobedience is #kevin and neil and renee spark the flame of rebellion in him #but even to the end jean wanted to go back #he doesn’t know anything but #anyway. woof woof doggy

[zeenimf]

Phei of the Wind | Draft 3 Complete

Hiya all~ It's been a while, but today I've finished the third draft of my fantasy novel Phei of the Wind. As many of you know I've been working on this novel for more than twelve years now, and this is the most definitive version I've ever made. It's still going to be revised and worked upon, of course, but most story beats have now been completed. It's composed of 29 chapters with a hefty 109000 words. I'm writing my thesis this semester, and I realised that I was so close to finishing that I couldn't think about anything else. So I went burn-out mode and wrote some 20000 words these two weeks, and now while I'm sitting in my eco-literature class (which is very interesting but my brain is too obsessed to stop writing), I've typed up the last few words.

So for those who have somehow missed me talking about this, it's a story about Phei, a halfling-harpy who lives in a world above the clouds. She is a priestess of sorts, and she notices that the world is slowly growing pale and empty. When she learns of a possible cause she runs away to the world below the clouds, the world where her people exiled themselves from. There she travels across the lands, figuring out not just what's happening to the world, but what happened to her people as well while meeting a cast of eccentric characters.

As in regards to the third draft, the biggest change is the endpoint. The previous draft ended at a point that made sense for a single novel, but would require another novel to tell the whole story. This new draft doesn't stop there. I shuffled around a lot of things and added some 40k words after that point. I wanted Phei's story to be composed of one big book. It doesn't mean that don't want to tell other stories in this world, but Phei's story is done when this book is done.

So what's next? I'm going to go through the entire book once, since I have a pile of notes that I thought of when writing this draft. And then I want to send the book out to a handful of beta readers. I'll send a post out for that tonight or tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested in that!

And lastly I'd like to thank you all for your nice comments and support! Every time someone commented something nice about the story it kept me going, so I think it may have taken a lot longer without all of you. <3

I'll leave you with a snippet (picking something that has no spoilers was haaaard), and hope you will all have a wonderful day!

xx

The wind causes Phei to lose her grip on time. Hours blow past as Phei glides, effortless. She knows of birds being able to sleep in the sky, and wonders if her people used to glide in their sleep too. Her dream quickly fades when she dashes to the right again, a sliver of upwards current catching her attention. Agile, yet absent-minded, she crosses past the forests until she can see the sands of Iekin edge towards the mountains, there where the narrow peaks and pillars of Sunde come into view. Without the stormy clouds Phei is able to take in the mountain in its entirety. It is a lonely mountain, imprisoned by the hundreds of spikes surrounding it. The evening sun shines over it, making the golden chains draping down all around the mountain glitter in sinful light. Glistering like that, Phei imagines the mountain as almost peaceful. It shows no sign of the great horrors that have been committed at its feet. It is like a passive observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Taglist, let me know if you want to be added / removed!

@ink-fireplace-coffee | @write-the-stars-and-shadows | @henrike-does-writing-sometimes | @ladywithalamp | @chazzawrites | @writingonesdreams | @generalblizzarddreamer | @peepos-prose | @writing-is-a-martial-art | @dahliaornelas​​ | @ofbloodandflowers | @magic-is-something-we-create | @ettawritesnstudies | @47crayons | @inkflight | @thelaughingstag | @writing-with-l | @immunetoliteraryanalysis​ | @strangerays​ | @luerange​  | @snowinks​ | @the-orangeauthor​ | @waysofink​ | @fablewritten​ | @houndmouthed​ | @midnights-call​ | @phantomnations​ | @teriwrites​

#gust #writelbr #fantasy #wip #spilled ink

[flowersandbigteeth]

Hi! So this is my first time sending in an ask so I feel anxious about it but-

I love your work and constantly check for updates because I've already read all your work. When you don't update I kinda have to scavenge to find other similar authors that do full length fics and not just like drabbles or blurbs or headcannons or whatever

Anyways do you have any other authors that you can recommend in the same monster x reader genre that write full stories and oneshots?

Oh noooo, lol! The struggle is so real (ὀ⌓ὀ⑅)

I don't know a whole bunch of creators, just off the top of my head without diving deep into my likes and reblogs. I am actually very specifically rabid about monster cod crossover fics the most @bluegiragi does monster cod crossover comics and I'm addicted

I definitely recommend checking out the (whatever monster) x reader tags and looking for creators who just do one monster type, they tend to have more finished series because they are focusing on one theme, imo.

@labgrowndemon is one who comes to mind, for example, has awesome, very emotionally rich werewolf fics

More generally I know some of the bigger accounts:

@monstermag is great! They just put out the winter edition and there are awesome stories in there! You can dl all the previous issues for free I'm pretty sure. You can find a bunch of different monster writers and artists in there, so that's probably the fastest way to find a bunch of authors quickly

@momolady has an impressive selection of fics. She's brilliant and there's kind of something for everyone, so many different monsters to choose from. She has a patreon for the discord and rough drafts, art, and stuff for a bunch of different tiers.

@monster-bait writes monster romance novels and I am subscribed on her patreon. I get quarterly art in the mail and her books are lovely <3 I have the beautiful prints she sends stuck all over my bulletin board

You can find some monster romance themed discords on disboard, as well. I'm in Monster Manor, which i highly recommend to find more monster fic stuff. It's pretty active and they have a bunch of recommendations for books and creators to check out. Probably most of the people on there are indie authors themselves and post different snippets and whatnots.

I also should note, as I was looking, many creators are on strike for the next few weeks, so please respect that

I hope that helps a little ^_^

#monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #sweet anons #sweet asks

[high-dragon-bait]

Okay I’m just going to say it: I always found the take that “Fenris and Anders’ relationship is wasted potential” kind of irritating. At least in the way most people mean when they say it: Anders and Fenris never found common ground, and that is a waste of potential

I do agree that there are some writing let-downs in their relationship, I just don't agree that the fact that they never reach a common ground is part of it.

It is true that Fenris and Anders have more in common than differences, their trauma is ultimately based in the same thing: being held and tormented against their will by an oppressive system. If you pay attention, the narrative, the characters, and Fenris and Anders themselves are aware of this. Here's a little snippet of it shown in this Legacy dialogue

The game knows they're alike. It's not that they can't see there's common ground between them. They can. The problem is: Fenris is healing, and Anders is not

I'm going to show you more banter screenshots now

Specifically of Fenris and Anders' banter with Varric, in acts 2 and 3

Just bear with me, we'll start with Fenris

Fenris and Varric in act 2

Fenris and Varric in act 3

Now Anders

Anders and Varric in act 2

Anders and Varric in act 3

There are more banters that illustrate this point but I think these four are the strongest and also I would like to go to sleep at some point tonight.

Fenris is healing from his past, if you look at his banters as a whole, you can see across all characters he gets more open, humorous, and talkative throughout all acts. Anders does the exact opposite. Anders gets more closed off, cold, and in act 3 you'll notice he rarely speaks before being spoken to unless he's following up on a previous conversation.

It makes sense, to me at least, why they never become friends. It isn't because Anders is a mage, Bethany is a mage, anti-circle, and Fenris loves her. Don't believe me? Look on the wiki or search "Bethany" on my blog and you'll find some of their interactions. They're adorable.

It's because Anders is getting worse and Fenris is getting better. That's why all their conversations are just an exhausting loop and why they never seem to connect. To me, that is the story being told here. It was never about them finding a common ground, it was about paralleling two people and one who heals from their past, and one who does not. Making them on opposite sides of the mage/templar debate is meant to emphasize this.

I do want to state that I have mixed feelings about this. While I think it's a neat idea, it does also feed the "You were hurt by a system but now your hate for it consumes you" trope which I am. Not a fan of. You can also talk about how the world itself plays into this in that Fenris can escape from Tevinter but Anders can't escape from being a mage. That's all a retrospective for another day, I'm just talking about the intent behind the relationship here.

Basically what I’m trying to say is: A story may not go in the direction you want it to but that does not make the story bad, it just makes it the story you didn’t want. That is fine, but I take some issue when people treat it as an actual fault of the story rather than a matter of taste.

Like I said, there are plenty of actual writing issues in Dragon Age 2, and I do think that there are some wasted opportunities in Fenris and Anders' relationship. My biggest problem is that it doesn't go far enough. We see Anders spiral until he hits full rock bottom and destroys the Chantry. We see Fenris... go play some cards with his buddies. I think it would've been more effective if Fenris got a little farther in his healing, namely his relationship with magic. I've said that I don't think Fenris would ever fully trust magic and I don't, but it would've been neat to at least see more progress made than is actually made in the game. This I think is the consequence of Dragon Age 2 being a first draft like David Gaider said, I think if they had more time, they could've pushed this further and made it more interesting, but I do genuinely like what's there like I genuinely like the entirity of Dragon Age 2.

Anyway, that's why in my opinion, Anders and Fenris never finding a common ground isn't a problem from a narrative perspective.

#Dragon Age #da2 #Anders #Fenris #long post

[fitzrove]

Re my previous post: On the other hand as far as I know nobody is working on a serious apologist /j biography of luigi lucheni, anarchist and one of the most dangerous. If I was more insane and not scared of reputation loss I would do that 💀💀💀💀

EDIT: a snippet from my drafts:

#i have so many posts in my drafts from when i was planning a fic 😂😂😂💀💀💀 #basically: not to get put on a watchlist but imagine you're some guy with a shitty life in the late 19th century and your only wish is to #achieve fame and posterity #like you're pretty much never going to do that unless you do something horrible #royalty is famous automatically bastard peasants only if they murder someone important........ #not saying it is a good or just goal - at one point he was comfortably employed in the household of a duke but threw it away #like he could've lived a decent life but he left that job on a whim and couldnt get back on his feet so became radicalised #obviously there is mental illness & lack of social cohesion and opportunity & rash personality at work there #none of those excuse murder but just saying. almost all of the lucheni articles out there are extremely unsympathetic of him #for gods sake rudolf killed at least two (2) people and we have meow meow literature of him... it's time for a lucheni era #history #💀😭😂

[birdbrainedboy]

My side of an art trade with @bubblegumflavor!

The prompt: lawrusso sending a photo postcard of themselves from a holiday trip they enjoy

I chose to draw 90’s Lawrusso vacationing at some sort of beach/ tropical area. I originally was going to make Johnny a burner and Daniel a tanner, but then I remembered Johnny was born and raised in California and made him a freckler instead LMAO

The finished piece:

This was the 2nd draft of this drawing, because my digital art style randomly decided to change while I was working on it haha

A snippet of the previous draft:

#lawrusso #cobra kai #the karate kid #johnny lawrence #tkk #daniel larusso #cobrakai #karate kid #digital artist #artist #original art #lawrusso fanart #fan art #fanart #fanartist #my art #digital art #artwork #digital illustration #digital drawing #art trade #russolaw #ck #90s lawrusso

[utahlive]

Sorry!! No episode today but I do have some extra content for you! The Wilbur/Quackity comic (?) has been in the works for a while so I want to show you some of the behind the scenes stuff. Sorry if its not too interesting ^_^’’

The comics are a bit long so I’m going to put them under the cut

Here’s the first draft of the scene, drawn sometime in early December. I was originally going to have it be a daydream Wilbur was having from behind the counter at the store. I decided against it because it felt like a weird transition from him being home to suddenly being back in the store. The dialogue (sorry if you cannot read my handwriting </3) also felt really stilted, plus I had a point I was going for that wasn’t really hit with what was being said here.

These two are essentially the storyboard for the text below. I originally intended for Quackity’s face to never be fully shown, but when I tried to draw it digitally it looked weird. Plus, I feel like there’s more of a connection if you can actually see his face. Im also a bit proud of my cquackity design sorry. This iteration is the one where I decided that Wilbur would be in his car rather than at the story (its very messy, but the 4 tiny boxes on the side is the transition from him smoking in LN to being in his car and driving away).

plus some warmups and deciding how long I wanted Wilburs hair to be at the bottom

Here’s the original script, written on a plane with about 3 hours of sleep. I condensed it a bit, since I didn’t want to draw 15 whole pages and I didn’t want it to drag on. I also scrapped the last part in the notes, obviously. A gradual “waking up” would have worked too I guess, but I think the more jarring transition was more the feel I was going for (the kind of “snapping back” when you finish a memory/when something catches your attention).

I didn’t originally intend for the comic (can I even call it that?) to be a two parter, but once I decided Wilbur would be in his car, it would be too odd to just...go back to normal. I hope it was clear in the final product, but Q only shows up in the reflections of the window/mirror. Reflections are so great for so many things, and I’m definitely going to (continue) to use them lol!

I did get some people in the inbox saying how Quackity’s colors were similar to the sky from the first part, but they’re actually the same (just a bit more glow-y in this part) since I took the sky/background from the previous comic and overlayed it. The whole idea of Q using snippets of speech from the previous comic was also really fun to do. I’ve always wanted to have a story where I can do that (I did it for more reasons that it just being cool, but that’s definitely one of them! haha). Anyway that’s all! If you read this far, thank you for indulging me :D Apologies again for no episode; I burnt myself out a bit, and I’m working on another big episode and those tend to take up a lot of my time.

#utahlive #4th wall break #im also working on a character lineup sheet so I can have references for everyone. yeesh #oh also on a scale of 1 to 10 how funny would it be to incorporate polls into this blog #when they become available #also hi there tag readers #behind the scenes

[tuttle-4077]

Find the Word!

Find the words from the list in your WIPs and post the paragraph they belong to.

Thanks for the tag @benevolenterrancy. I've been working hard to clean out my WIPs, but I still have a few kicking around. I don't know how many words I'm going to find, but I'll see what's up.

Accident

“Now, you might remember that, after we rescued Miss Newkirk, we unsealed a new set of codes and couriered them to Papa Bear for immediate use,” Campbell continued. The other men nodded. “Gentlemen, those codes were found in the possession of the men we just arrested.”

There was a stunned silence. “But how?” O’Malley demanded. “It’s only been four days!” His face hardened. “Who had access to those codes?”

“The men in this room,” Sinclair answered. “And, of course, the couriers, I suppose.”

“And where are they?”

“We have them in interrogation now,” Campbell informed him. “But, so far, they seem legitimate.”

“Anyone else?” O’Malley asked.

Sinclair shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, sir. The codes were sealed and under lock and key. And Major Campbell and I drafted them in private.” It had been a brilliant code if he did say so himself. It was a shame that it was now compromised.

“Well Jerry didn’t get them by accident,” O’Malley said.

“We’re questioning the German agents,” Campbell reported. “But they, ah, will require more persuasive techniques.”

--From the as of yet untitled sequel to Papa Bear's List

Okay, that's more than a paragraph, but dialogue is funny that way.

Hope

“Perfectly,” he said stiffly while mentally cursing. He hoped she didn’t notice the tremble in his hand even while he ordered it to stop. “I really ought to be asking you that,” he continued. “How are you holding up, Miss Newkirk?”

--Another snippet from the PBL sequel

Touch

Carter gingerly touched his knee and gagged from the pain. He sucked in several quick breaths and looked down. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but he could feel blood covering his hand and soaking his pant leg. The fact that he wasn’t dead yet and that the blood wasn’t squirting out of him meant the bullet hadn’t hit an artery, but Carter had to stem the flow of blood anyway. Awkwardly, he shucked off his shirt, wincing a little as he pulled his hand through the sleeve. He had had to break his thumb to free himself from the cuffs. All for nothing, he reminded himself sourly. And now his chances of escape were altogether abysmal even with the fact that Hochstetter hadn't bothered to cuff his hands again. 

--From Hochstetter's Revenge. This bit is technically not a WIP since it's posted, but the story itself is a WIP

Sweet

"How sweet,” Hochstetter said. “You must be a proud father. I’d hate for anything to happen to your children. So young.” He turned a dangerous eye to Carter. “On the couch, Sergeant," he ordered. Carter slowly backed up until he was seated. Hochstetter stayed near the entrance and surveyed the room.

--Another (posted) snippet from Hochstetter's Revenge

Yell Anger (no yell in my WIPs, so I used a word from a previous post)

Once he got over being mad at himself, he turned his anger towards London. They must have known the old mines were there—someone had told Hogan before he arrived—and they didn’t do anything about it. They could have started up the operation long before. Surely there was a British officer who was just as capable as Hogan. Why did they have to wait for him, of all people? There were times that Newkirk fancied that he could have been the leader. He was undoubtedly cunning enough to pull it off. One didn’t grow up on the streets of London without learning a trick or two. 

--From As the Romans Do, a sequel to Distant Sun

Ummmm. Okay. I don't know who's who on tumblr but let's see. @belphegor1982 and @yeaaaaaa-faebee and @frau-wilhelm-klink do you want to play? Do have WIPs?

Okay, here are some words: sigh, hint, heart, toast, operation

#I want to get excited for your stories #Show me the WIPs!!! #All my WIPs are for LONG stories #I posted all my shorter WIPs #As long as it doesn't take ten years to finish them I'm doing good

[tj-dragonblade]

NEMO NEMO NEMO PLEASE

also academic conference AU if you're feeling generous xD

Ahh, Nemo. Previous snippets tagged for convenience! Still don't know where this will end up but I am literally just sifting through the lyrics and drafting whatever comes to mind for this line or that with the barest bones of a set scene behind it. I am sure you can clock the lyric in this one, lol.

Here, he thinks, bitter and contrary, here is something he wants: rain. The reflection of his moods in the weather of the Dreaming had been a boon of validation; the intensity of his feelings was often imprudent to act upon, as he had tragically learned time and again, and letting them scatter and reflect into the vastness of his realm allowed him the management of himself to the benefit of all involved. And now even that small kindness is beyond him. Hob's small balcony is bathed in sunshine, bright and warm, birdsong weaving brightly through the trees; it is idyllic, a perfect late spring day, and he. Resents it. He wishes, desperately, to stand on his own balcony (not his) off his chambers (not any longer) soaking in the pouring rain, letting the worst of his overfull feelings wash away that he might. Find new clarity, in his thoughts. But the weather remains belligerently cheerful, unmoved by the strength of his distress; he whirls from the railing and sweeps back inside. Even his dressing gown (Hob's dressing gown) is a pale substitute for the flowing robes he had favored, lacking the presence and drama that he had preferred. Nothing is as it was, Before. But this is as he had decided it should be. He must find. Other ways, to cope. He considers crawling back into bed (depression nap, old pieces of collective memory supply), but Hob's note had said he would be home by eleven. Which is…soon, he decides, after studying the clock. And Hob would be… No. Hob would not be disappointed to find him back in bed, nor angry, but. Hob would worry, for his emotional well-being, and he has given Hob enough cause for concern already. He appreciates that Hob cares. But he does not wish to burden him more than necessary.

The Academic Conference AU is a long-term beast that started life more than a year ago as a quick smut fill for the prompt 'bed sharing' and turned into an anticipated four chapters of hooking up and relationship development. Assuming I can see it all the way through. I've got pieces of this scattered all over; here is the tag for that and here is a pre-spicy snippet from the second chapter:

He texts Dream, because he's gotta do something with himself in the interim. They exchanged numbers on day one and it's occurred to Hob that Dream might waste precious moments waiting for him outside the panel Hob's supposed to be attending once his own lets out, unaware that Hob skived off. Hey ;) Meet me back at the room, soon as you're able I'll be waiting for you He debates a moment, unsure if sending a pic is too much, whether or not it would be appreciated, especially while Dream's stuck in a presentation. But he's sitting in his hotel room [buck naked]* and waiting to get fucked; if this is not the appropriate time for a spicy pic, he doesn't know what is. He's tasteful about it; he snaps a downward-angled shot of his chest, hair damp from the shower, neither his face nor his dick in frame. Discreet. Just in case. He hits 'Send'.

WIP Title Ask Game

*I am reminded I need to find out if 'buck naked' is a particularly American term and seek a British replacement of comparable tone, if so

#askmemes #TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: Nemo #wip: academic AU

[akindofmagictoo]

DRAGONSONG: draft 2 update: 06/01

previous word count: 0

current word count: 8,383

notes: the draft is officially begun and i made a lot of progress! i expect this will get weirder as i divert more and more from draft 1, but hey, we like an easy start. (and there were definitely things that changed!)

[edit: if you thought this word count said 6598 earlier... i got inspired and did more writing hehe]

snippet:

Every movement of her armour echoed off the stone. Isi hoped the dragon would not be alerted to her presence too soon… but then again, it had likely already been disturbed by the quake. And taking her armour off would be an even worse idea. That thought was only further validated when the tunnel opened out into a larger cave, and they caught their first glimpse of the dragon. A small crack in the stone high above them offered just enough light to see the creature. Pale pink, significantly larger than any creature Isi had ever seen… and asleep, it seemed, curled up in a nest of sorts against the far wall. Its scaly sides rose and fell, slowly but rhythmically. Isi paused; the dragon seemed to be no threat right at that moment, so she could take her time. A sweet smell lingered in the cave. The dragon’s nest seemed to be the source: plants and flowers of all colours and sorts stuck out of it, flattened under the dragon’s weight. “It’s beautiful,” breathed Robin behind her. Isi took a deep, slow breath. “It is.” Truly, she had never seen anything like it. And she had orders to kill it.

TAGLIST

@isherwoodj @metanoiamorii @lilmissravingwriter @weekofwednesdays @the-unwrittenwriter @talesofsorrowandofruin @little-boats-on-a-lake @teriwrites @magicalwriting @magic-is-something-we-create @writingbyjillian @waysofink @perditism @thehellinsideyourhead @calicowrites @vellichor-virgo @google-plexed @therecouldbecolorsandlove @the-orangeauthor @ellatholmes @happyorogeny @ladywithalamp @ashen-crest @authortango @strangerays @moononherwings @nikkywrites @ambersky0319 @ambsthom @talesfromgringolandia @wickerring @wizardfromthesea @diphthongsfordays @e-lisard @enchanted-lightning-aes @emscribblings @teardropsandtherain @lowslore @fablewritten @copper-dragon-in-disguise @dirtybarkshark

#wip dragonsong #dragonsong excerpt #dragonsong draft 2 progress #< not sure if i'm going to taglist every time but you can follow this tag if you want #going to try and do an update every day i work on this draft #dragonsong isi #dragonsong robin #dragonsong bedelia