#if only i could keep track of my wips and really focus on one again and just get a good chunk done and focus on other stuff

[lateseptemberdawn]

Reading Shakespeare's sonnets not realy understanding a thing and continuously thinking of a Shakespeare inspired smol fic on tk :((( exams are so evil

#Shakespeare was gay #news to me #its all so angsty mannn #likeeee you read sonnet no 110 and tell me you dont feel the angst omg!!! #tk would slayyy this theme #if only i could keep track of my wips and really focus on one again and just get a good chunk done and focus on other stuff #im so saddddd aaaaaa

[atlabeth]

turn back the clock - rafe cameron

summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you days before your best friend's wedding. you're dreading having to face it alone, but when some behind-the-scenes tampering by the bride brings you back into contact with your high school crush, more comes to light than you could've ever imagined.

a/n: thank you to ri for helping me decide which current wip to finish and this post i saw on ig for inspiring it in the first place. i love second chance romance so much and the obx3 trailer made me wanna start writing for rafe again so here we are lmao.

this has been in google drive hell since august and i finished the rest of it all in one go at midnight when i was supposed to be doing homework. so i hope you enjoy

wc: 4.2k

warning(s): small bit of angst at the beginning but basically all fluff, like toothrotting. also reader was a college track athlete but nothing else about her is described

(no i will not stop using this gif of him in the blue suit<333)

You didn’t really wanna have to make this call. Instead, you just wanted to stew in your own misery, watch some sappy rom-coms that make you feel even worse about what happened, and maybe go out and buy a couple pints of ice cream. 

But the day wasn’t supposed to be about you. And you owed it to Elizabeth to at least explain why you might be in a vaguely shitty mood at her wedding.

Honestly, though—you should have expected this. 

“He what?” 

“Liz—” you started, but you knew once she got going there was no bringing her down until she was done. 

“He broke up with you?” 

“Yes,” you said, and you clenched your free hand in a fist to keep from choking up. He didn’t deserve any of your time, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t hurting. It didn’t mean tears didn’t well up every time you thought about him. “He just sprung it on me out of nowhere last night. I thought we were doing pretty well, but,” you let out a watery laugh, “I guess not.” 

“I can’t believe him,” she seethed. “I told you not to trust guys with J names, and Jason is like, the biggest offender! I told you the moment we met him at that frat party he was bad news—” 

“You don’t need to go on a rant!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I already know how much of a jerk he is— well, I might’ve just had my eyes opened to it, but I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’m… going through some stuff, I guess, in case I seem off during all the planning. But that’s all—you have to promise me that none of the focus is gonna be on me, because this is your day.” 

“...Okay,” she said after some hesitation, “but you can still rant to me whenever you want. Just because you’re one of my bridesmaids doesn’t mean all you have to talk about is the wedding.” 

“How can I not talk about the wedding all the time?” you exclaimed. “Lizzie, I’ve been involved in so much of the process with you that it’s basically all I can think about. This is the most excited I’ve been for anything ever.” 

“Didn’t your brother get married last year?” she said. 

“You know what I mean,” you chuckled. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married, and to Nate, too. It feels like it was just yesterday that you were telling me about the cute boy in your trig class, and six years later and you’re marrying him in a week.” 

You could hear the smile in your words. “It really does feel like yesterday, huh? I remember going on and on about how much I liked him after that group project we got stuck together for—y’know, your encouragement was the only reason I ended up asking him out.” 

“Then I’m glad I kept bothering you,” you said with a smile of your own. “You guys are so great together.” 

“I just wish you would’ve taken my—” Liz suddenly stopped talking on the other end, and you frowned a bit. 

“What?” 

“...Nothing,” she said very suspiciously after a pause. “I, uh— I just remembered there’s something I need to do. Wedding related. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah—” you said, but she had already hung up. You chuckled and shook your head as you set your phone down. 

You didn’t really know what that was about, but you were looking forward to the wedding—it didn’t matter that you were suddenly single. 

You and Liz had been best friends since you were put next to each other in the seating chart in sixth grade science—and even though she went to NC A&T and you were all the way at San Diego State, you talked basically every day for all four years of college. Sometimes you even made the flights to see each other, and it was worth every single dollar. 

It made you feel a lot better, knowing she had your back (and knowing that she had likely already blacklisted Jason from the guestlist made you feel pretty good too). 

What you didn’t know, though, was that what she was doing at that moment would make the wedding night a whole lot more interesting for you. 

And it all had to do with one Rafe Cameron from high school. 

-

The air was thick with a thousand different perfumes and the stiffness of hairspray along with a whole lot of anxiety as a result of the eight bridesmaids who inhabited the room trying to make sure they looked their best before the procession started in T-10 minutes. 

You were, of course, stressed as well. It was like everything that was fine for the months leading up to the wedding had suddenly decided to go wrong just to spite you. You’d forgotten to take a tag off of your dress and it was digging into a very particular spot of your back, your hair was not cooperating—Ariel and India and Natasha might have said that you looked beautiful, but it was just not working with you—and you were about to run out of your favorite mascara. All small things, but they were beginning to add up. 

And to add to your stress, your phone started to go off. When you opened it, you saw it was a text from Lizzie. 

girl I am so sorry to ask you this I know we’re so close to the start 

but Ayana just told me that she left my bouquet on the table in the sideroom of room 139, she forgot to take them out of the vase! 

sisters aren’t even on top of things when they’re your maid of honor apparently 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 

you’re the closest to the room and the only other person I can trust rn because Im going slightly wedding crazy, can you please get it??? I will love you more than my future husband and you will have my eternal gratitude 

using my track past against me i see 

you are pushing it babe 

I know 

help me obi-wan kenobi you’re my only hope 

lol 

dw I got this 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

You are my savior and all your drinks are on me next time we go out 

You sighed and shook your head, slipping your heels off in favor of the flats you came here in. The last thing you needed was to break an ankle before the procession. 

“I’ll be back!” you announced to the rest of the bridesmaids—though you weren’t sure any of them heard you in the havoc—before you ran out of the room. You were thankful this dress had a slit. 

It took a minute for you to get there, makeup and hair still intact, but when you did you didn’t see a vase. You huffed a sigh and got to work going through everything. The actual last thing you needed was for Liz to not have her bouquet as she walked down the aisle. 

“Oh— I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know there was another person in here.” 

You turned around from your crouched spot on the floor at the voice, and you nearly toppled over when you saw who it was. 

“Rafe?” you marveled. Though it was posed as a question, there was no doubt about it. You’d only thought about him basically every day for all of high school. 

He said your name with the same surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the same time as he stared at you for a moment too long. You swore his eyes went up and down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, when he blinked and shook his head. A wide smile spread across his lips in its place, and it did the same sort of thing to you that it did in high school. You weren’t immune to a Rafe Cameron grin as a freshman, and apparently you weren’t as a college graduate either. “What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to find Lizzie’s bouquet ten minutes before the wedding,” you said with a slight laugh. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh, Topper left his pocket square in here, apparently,” he said. “We drove here together, and he’s the best man so he’s scrambling all over the place, and—” Rafe paused and he breathed a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the same way they did in high school. “You get the idea.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “I had no idea you were gonna be at the wedding. I—” you chuckled and shook your head. “I guess I forgot that you and Nate went to UNC together.” 

“Yeah.” Rafe laughed again, though it was a bit nervous as he ran a hand through his hair, stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “It’s uh— it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, though. What, the last time we actually had a conversation was—” 

“That one party at UNC,” you supplied, and you stood up, leaning against the countertop. “The one that Liz dragged me to when I came to visit her for spring break sophomore year. We saw each other there.” 

“...Yeah,” Rafe repeated, and his smile softened. “Yeah, it was then. I didn’t know you remembered that.” 

“‘Course I did,” you said. “I mean, the last time before that was the huge party you, Kelce, and Topper all threw in the last week of summer. Before we all went our separate ways.” 

“Oh, that was…” he laughed as he bowed his head a bit. “That was something. Uh, it should be a rule pre-college boys should not be allowed to be around that much alcohol without supervision. I’m surprised no one died that night.” 

You grinned as the memory of it all came back. It was hard to believe that it was one of the last times you saw Rafe. That it was the last time you saw Rafe for two whole years, and the next time you got even the slightest glimpse of him was a minute long conversation with your very drunk self before you were dragged out by your one sober friend. 

Seeing Rafe was the only thing you remembered from that night.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” you said, your voice a bit softer. “College really did something to us, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he said, and his smile faded the slightest bit. “Being on separate coasts’ll do that to you.” 

Your expression softened, and you were about to say something when your phone buzzed in your hand. Panic jolted through you for just a moment before you read what the texts said. 

just kidding lol. It turns out that Alicia got the flowers when she was picking up the drinks from there for the reception

crisis averted!! 

I’ll still cover your drinks though since I prob gave you a mini heart attack and Im very sorry about that 

“Huh,” you said, and you glanced back up at Rafe. “Looks like I was sent on a mission for flowers that weren’t even here.” 

“Elizabeth’s probably all over the place,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been kinda stressed out and I’m not even part of the wedding party. Bridal nerves have gotta be a lot worse.” But then Rafe paused and took his phone out of his pocket, and his brow creased. 

“What’s got you lookin’ like that?” you asked. 

“Huh,” he said. “Topper actually just had his pocket square in his… other pocket. So I guess I was here for nothing then, too.” 

A laugh bubbled out at that. “We’ve got some very organized friends today, huh?” 

“Seems so,” he agreed with a smile. “But I’m glad he misplaced it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded, and he shrugged. “I got to see you.” 

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks at an astronomical rate, and you had never been more thankful for your phone to buzz. 

But seriously you gotta finish getting ready we have like five minutes left before the organ starts playing 

liz if this was not your day i would be so mad at you

please. you can never be mad at me 

“I gotta go before I single handedly ruin this whole procession,” you joked, and you went past the entrance and Rafe. But just as you got a few steps away, you turned around and smiled. “I’m also glad that Liz sent me here.” 

Rafe chuckled, smiling inwardly as you hurried away. You didn’t know it, but his eyes didn’t leave you for a second. 

-

The wedding ceremony went fabulously. 

You got back in time and finished getting ready—for some reason, you felt a lot more confident in your appearance—and walked down the aisle arm in arm with a very lovely groomsman before taking your place at the front of the bridesmaid line. 

You cried. A lot. 

When you saw Liz walking down the aisle, when you looked up at Nate and saw the way he gazed at her with all the stars in his eyes, when her father gave her away, when they said their vows, when they kissed, when they walked off—you were a mess basically the entire time. Thank god for waterproof mascara. 

And then when you sat with the bridesmaids for the Liz and Nate's first dance and the parent dances, you cried again. And when Ayana gave her Maid of Honor speech and Topper gave his Best Man speech—you were like a waterfall. A complete mess, but a very happy one at that. 

But you managed to stop by the bathroom and fix yourself up in record time before you all went off to your normal seating charts, and god, you had never been more glad to have done so when you walked in and saw who was at your table. 

Liz either knew everything or nothing, because this... this was really something. 

“So we meet again,” Rafe said, another easy smile appearing as he turned to look at you. “Looks like this wedding is trying to make up for all the years we missed.” 

You chuckled and took your seat next to him. “Guess so. It’s not an easy feat, though.” 

“Six years was a long time,” he said. 

“Didn’t really help that my parents sold our house in the OBX after I graduated,” you said dryly. “I missed all those Rafe Cameron summers during college.” 

“‘Rafe Cameron summer’?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t realize there was a word for it.” 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I graduated with an English minor. It allows me to make up phrases whenever I want.” 

“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “I guess my… finance concentration means I control the stock market?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous. It obviously means you’re the head of the treasury. Keep up, Rafe.” 

“My bad.” He held up his hands with mock austerity. “Our time apart is the reason for such a ridiculous mistake.” 

You smiled, but it sobered a bit and you bit your lip. “On a serious note,” you said, “I’m… I’m really sorry.” 

Rafe frowned. “For what?” 

“For that time apart,” you said. “I came back to North Carolina more than a few times to visit Liz and some other friends, but I never came to see you. We were— we were good friends, Rafe, and I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you like that all because I was at a different college.” 

Somehow, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What? You can’t possibly be blaming yourself for this—people grow apart in distance. That… that just happened to us. I mean, you were in California and I was in Chapel Hill. That’s crazy distance.” 

“I still came back, though,” you said. “Just… never for you.” 

“...I didn’t expect you to,” Rafe said, looking right in your eyes. “No matter how much…” 

“What?” you asked after he trailed off. 

Rafe sighed, then shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he looked back at you. “Do you wanna dance?” 

“What?” you repeated, mostly because you couldn’t believe it. 

“Dance with me.” He stood up and offered a hand, passing a glance at the dance floor. All of the official dances had been done already so it was open to anybody, including you and your high school crush. 

“Okay,” you said with an almost breathless laugh, and you really felt like your freshman self again the way butterflies fluttered in your chest as you took his hand and walked over to an open spot. 

You and Rafe fell into an easy rhythm, like you’d been doing this all your lives, and it didn’t take too long for your conversation to follow. 

“So what did you get up to in all those years at SD State?” he asked. “All I really know about your college career is what I’ve gotten from Instagram and your parents’ Facebooks.” 

You laughed a bit. “Regular college stuff, I guess. I did track all four years and I won some awards, which was pretty cool. Went to a lot of parties, got drunk a lot, swore off drinking a lot, studied until I thought my eyes were going to fall out, then graduated with a chemistry degree. I’ve been working as a technician in a lab for the company I interned with for the past two years.” 

Rafe whistled. “‘Regular college stuff’, she says, as she describes an insane balancing act between student athlete life, partying, and schoolwork, and still being able to graduate with a STEM degree.” 

“You’re such a flatterer,” you admonished, but there was no real bite in your words. “That’s one thing that’s never changed.” 

“It’s easy to flatter a woman like you,” he said. “I mean, you’re out there changing the world. I feel like I’m not even worthy to stand in your presence.” 

You chuckled as Rafe spun you, and as your hands joined once again you offered a coy smile. 

“You know,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence with his words, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.” 

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, but he covered it up with a well placed smile of his own. “Really?” he marveled, and he said your first and last name, “you had a crush on me?” 

“Yep,” you nodded. “And she had it bad. If freshman year me could see this, she would be losing her mind.” 

Rafe laughed, and it spurned butterflies in your chest yet again—they were the same kind you’d felt whenever you talked to him back then, trying to catch whatever moments you could between your busy schedule and his own responsibilities. You were too scared to admit your feelings, but you enjoyed spending time with him nonetheless. 

If there was one thing this was proving, though, it was that your feelings definitely weren’t as settled as you thought. 

“Well, you know,” he said thoughtfully, echoing your previous words as he brought you back to the present, “I had a pretty big crush on you in high school too.” 

That completely threw you off your rhythm. So much so that you stumbled, totally missing your next steps—if it weren’t for Rafe catching you, you would’ve face planted. 

“Are you good?” Rafe asked, concerned. 

“You had a crush on me?” you asked instead. 

He laughed again and ran a hand through his hair before you fell back into your rhythm together—he had let it grow out some, you realized, and it looked infinitely better all ruffled and mussed up than styled. 

“Yeah,” he said. His smile wasn’t as confident as it always was, a boyish charm mingling with unusual shyness. “It, uh— it kinda snuck up on me. I didn’t really know how big of a crush it was until I was at your signing ceremony. Like, right after you signed the contract was when I realized I had it bad.” 

“My signing ceremony?” you marveled, and you shook your head in disbelief. “You really have great timing, Rafe. Couldn’t have realized a couple years earlier when we were still in the same place?” 

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah. I really do. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make it harder for you. I mean, I was staying in the OBX for Chapel Hill, and you were taking the opportunity of a lifetime to run track in San Diego. I wasn’t gonna take your mind off of that because some hometown guy had a crush on you.”

“Some hometown guy,” you repeated, and it was your turn to laugh. “You thought that little of yourself?” 

“It’s true,” he shrugged. “I was just a friend that fell for you. I mean,” he gave you a crooked smile, “not that it was hard to fall for you. Pretty sure I was one of ten guys who wanted to ask you to prom senior year.” 

“Okay, that is not true at all,” you said, but you were stumbling over yourself just as quickly. He wanted to ask you to prom senior year? When the one thing that you thought about whenever you looked at him that spring was dancing with him at prom? “Grant Millwood was the only one that asked me.”

Rafe nodded with a laugh. “That was because he threatened everyone that he knew had a crush on you to make sure he would get to go with you.”

“And then he ditched me halfway through the night because he got too drunk to function off the alcohol he smuggled in himself,” you said dryly. “Yeah, he was a great date.”

“High school was the best,” Rafe said with mock austerity, “wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I miss the kook academy every single day.”

“I still can’t believe you wanted to ask me to prom senior year,” you said, shaking your head. “Rafe, how did I not even know? Why didn’t you do it?” 

“And let you miss your chance with Grant Millwood?” Rafe over exaggerated his scoff. “Please.” 

A laugh spilled out as a smile shone through. “You would’ve saved high school me a lot of angst if you told her you had a crush on her, y’know. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend four years pining in high school.” And four more in college, and two more postgrad. 

(God, you wish he had told you sooner. You would’ve blown all of your money on tickets to North Carolina if you had even the slightest inkling your eternal feelings weren’t eternally hopeless.) 

“Goes both ways,” he said, tacking on your last name. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad you had it?” 

“Because I thought that there was no chance in Hell that Rafe Cameron would ever share my feelings?” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Rafe—you know who you are, who you were. You say a couple guys wanted to ask me to prom—every girl wanted to date you. I didn’t stand a chance.” 

“And yet you did,” Rafe said with a slight chuckle. He shook his head. “Y’know, if I could turn back the clock, I would’ve done so many things differently.” Rafe smiled boyishly. “I would’ve mustered the nerve to ask you to prom before Grant even got the chance. And I definitely would’ve asked you out instead of liking you in private.” 

You smiled and shrugged. He liked you then when you thought there was no chance—why not now, when you also thought there was no chance? 

“Who says you have to turn back the clock?” 

Rafe’s own grin grew immediately, and he pulled you off to the side of the dance floor. He held your hands in his own, the cool metal of his signet ring at odds with the rough calluses on his palms brushing against your skin. 

He said your name with such earnesty you felt like you could melt, and when you gazed into his eyes, you nearly did. “I think you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in every single way. I can’t believe that it took me meeting you by chance at a wedding for me to do this, but I’d like to fix a mistake I made five years ago by never doing this. Can I take you on a date?” 

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, and it was a physical effort to contain the joy nearly bursting out of you, “I would love that more than anything.” 

He grinned. “Great.” 

And then he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for the best kiss of your life, one that you immediately fell into with all the vigor of six years spent longing. 

When he pulled away, leaving you completely breathless with widened eyes and bruised lips, his sultry whisper nearly took you out. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” 

You only had eyes for Rafe as you pulled him back into a heated kiss, pulling him by the cuffs of his baby blue suit. The only thing that got you away from him was the need for air.

"Me too," you murmured.

(And in the background, you were far too dazed to hear Liz’s victorious cheer.)

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

obx tags: @milkiane @lilgoddesshines @sexytholland

rafe tags: @lurkymurker

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #obx x reader #obx #obx fic #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks fic #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #sadie writes

[panzershrike-pretz]

Lanterns

Part 4

Disclaimer: -----

Summary: A Goddess who lost her faith, trying to get back to her senses so her family doesn't fall apart.

Warnings: -----

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @bucky32557038ww2, @xxluckystrike (if you want in or out, just tell me!)

-> Image below found here.

Hydra hadn't noticed that she kept the lantern as she made her way back to shore. Her feet dragged along the sand, so lost in her own mind she coudn't even focus on whatever she needed to do - it only clicked when she found herself crashing against one of her crewmates.

"Oh, i'm so sorry! I didn't- well, i wasn't-"

"Is 'at yours?", Sirius pointed at the lantern, confused as to why his sister had it.

"Uh... yeah... kind of. An elder gave it to me at the church..." Hydra said slowly, incapable of meeting his eyes. She wasn't planning on dealing with him right now. "She was so sweet, i couldn't say no..."

Sirius smirked, walking around her as if to make sure she was in one piece, having a good look to see if she had hit her head against something. Then, he grabbed her by the hand to give her a little spin. "Ok. Who're ya and what'd ye do with my sister?"

"What? Why?", she laughed, smiling at is anttics.

"Well 'cuz the Hydra I know would ne'er be seen with one o' those", he pointed at the lantern once again, curious. "Ye'll keep it?"

"Why are you like this, stupid?" She scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "As a matter of fact, I was indeed plannin' on keepin' it."

" 'Kay, spill yer beans. Ye ain't my Hydra, are ya?", he kept his stupid smirk, crossing his arms. Part of him was proud of his baby sister for deciding to keep it - and another, bigger part of him, was worried she might be really sick. "Go on, I know ye're just someone in disguise. Hit me with a bullet, ye Royal sea rat."

"Sirius! I'm not one of those bastards!"

"Well, one can only guess... I think I lost me darling sis'...", he said, trying to seem sad while wipping an imaginary tear out of his eye. "She'll be so dearly missed... I do wonder what is my part in her heirloom... Can I keep yer good stuff? I might sell yer clothes, those would make me get some good booty"

Hydra rolled her eyes at him, making her way towards the ship - but Sirius was right on her tail, questioning her every move 'till she stopped right on her tracks and stared him down.

"Didn't Sam give you something to do?"

"He did." Sirius nodded. "But I won't. As Ol' Athena said... not feelin' it."

"You do know that you're not in a position to choose, don't you?"

"Then why aren't ye doing what he told ye? If me memory isn't faillin' me, Sam told ya to get mor' coal and fire wood." Sirius watched carefully as his sister's face dropped in disbelief. He knew she had forgotten - and he also knew he was told to help her out, but decided not to simply to be lazy on the beach. "No prob, little Ibis, I can take the blame for ya. Ye know, like always."

"You just wan't something to manipulate me with, that's what you want."

"Yeah, that too... but I wouldn't like my sweet always-on-point smart-ass responsible baby sister to get in trouble, would I?"

Hydra could not believe her ears, having to contain her laugh. "You manipulative scurvy snake!"

Sirius shook his shoulders. "Worth a try."

As both started walking back - Hydra to drop off the lantern and Sirius to rub into Sam's face how useless he was -, they just let the sound of the waves hitting the beach fill the air. The man was whistling some song she could only make out half of - probably a sea shanty.

Some seagulls looked over at them, curious and unbothered, sitting over in one of the little docks where fishermen would sit all day long waiting for bites.

She still had Maria's words in her mind and wasn't really able to ignore it. Something inside her was screaming that she needed to step up to her own responsibilities and make her title worth it at least a little bit. She felt jealous, of course.

Sirius was also a God; he took care of the night, the stars, the dogs and secrets. The man was good at his job, even though he's not exactly that interested in it, seeing as he did nothing more than the basic stuff - Hydra knew he would much rather prefer to stay snuggled up with both Michael and the Captain, Jeremy. And they were good in their own realms too.

Michael would always talk about his duties some thousand years ago, when someone stops to listen to his tellings. He loves to tell stories about the old rituals and celebrations for the moon himself, dancing around at night with the wolves and people of his own little kingdom.

Jeremy, in another hand, was one of the youngest Gods there was, but he also provided enough. He made the wind blow strong into Blithe's sails and always looked for his crew with his protective demeanor.

Hydra decided not to mention Athena, Rodion nor Darty. They all couldn't care less for their duties - specially Darty, since their whole thing was looking pretty and cursing narcisistic people, or something. It was pure hypocrisy in Hydra's eyes.

She didn't even notice when Peggy came running in their direction, jumping in the sand. The woman only saw the dog when it was almost too late and she was already tripping both pirates - who had too much luck not to fall face first on the ground.

Peggy barked, wagging her tail while running around them. She wanted to play and wasn't much preocupied if she made anyone eat sand so she could have company.

Sirius laughed as he took Hydra's lantern out of her hands. He knew she needed some time and decided to drop it off with her things by himself - and also, be the only one who'll need to hear any rants about not doing their tasks.

Hydra looked at him while he walked, somewhat grateful. Then she felt Peggy bite ate her wing feathers, pulling the woman to play.

Come on! Come on! Come look at what I found!

The dog barked as she let go of Hydra, running head first into the beach's waves and submerging her nose, only to immediately back down with a big shell in her mouth. She walked over to Hydra, nudging her with with her nose so she could take the shell and throw it.

Hydra did exactly that. Too many times, to be clear. As always, Peggy would run after it, her whole body shaking and then jump, probably swallowing some sand as she came back to another throw.

Eventually, Hydra found herself sitting in a rock while the dog ran wild, taken by the zoomies. The lapwings and seagulls would land and then immediately fly off again because of her.

Peggy came happily to her again, carrying something in her mouth to show the woman. The dog had her tongue out and whatever it was she had with her was trying to wiggle it's way out. It was only when she was really close that Hydra noticed it was a crab. How the fuck did Peggy find a crab?

The animal wasn't exactly happy with it's new uber dog, and when it got the chance, Peggy screamed the loudest she could, being pinched by it's claws on her lip. She violently shook her head and sent it flying to the sand, right before barking all her swear words at it.

Bad bad! Bad! Not good, you behaved bad! Bad! Her mind repeated, as it was the worse thing she could think of for calling the crab. She sure hated being called bad girl, so it would too, right?

Well, the crab only stood it's ground, menacingly waving it's claws at her before running away to the nearest bush.

Peggy looked over at where it ran to, making a quick mental note not to grab anymore of those things. It would fight back. It was definetely not food, sadly.

"Did you learn anything from that, Peggy?", Hydra asked amidst tearful laughs. "Who am I kidding? You would never."

Peggy immediately forgot about her newest unlocked fear, making her way towards the woman and sitting with the head on her lap to get some good scratches behind the ear.

"What do you think, Peggy?", she asked. "Do you like the lanterns?"

I don't know, is it food? The dog looked up, interested.

"You know, sometimes I wonder what do you have in mind."

---------------------------

Sirius didn't really take long before making his way up to Blithe's main deck. He was lost in his own mind, staring at the carved drawings on that lantern, when he felt eyes burning at his skin and looked up, only to find himself face to face with a very pissed off Seamus who was having a very bad time.

"What? Did Dean not kiss ya today?" The God asked, forgetting completely that Sam was, in fact, expecting him to return with wood and coal.

"No. He actually did." Sam narrowed his eyes at the man. "Aren't you forgetting something, pretty boy?"

Sirius looked around, then it downed on him. He smiled, playfully.

"Ahhh, Sammy, ye know how things are... would ye forgive an old man for forgettin' stuff?"

"Not exactly when that old man looks younger than me. Where is the stuff?"

"Look, this time I do have a good reason!", Sirius started, hoping that his story would make Sam completelly forget about his lack of responsibility. "I was followin' Hydra 'cuz, ye know, she's the good siblin'. Then she simply vanished out of nowhere. And I was soooo lost... and sad... definetely sad. And lost."

"Bullshit."

"Wait! Lemme finish! Then I made me way back to beach, aye, but I was just really worried 'bout her. Then I waited 'till she came back... and she ne'er did."

Seamus rolled his eyes so hard he thought they were going to fall off his face. "Right. Then how would you have this lantern? Did some ol' bunch o' dogs bring it to you, flea bag?"

"The woman that came in her place, and me swear on me life-"

"Stop it."

"A'ight. She did come back, yeah, with this. Mine sister's just goin' badonkers and accepted this lantern as a gift from an old woman."

Seamus stared at the thing, deciding if he would believe Sirius or not. It was a really hard choice, seeing as he knew Hydra fucking hated getting anything to fo with the Night of Libero Sanctis and Sirius would actually come up with whatever excuse he could to cover up his lazyness. Eventually, though, he decided to quietly nod and go along. Something in him felt some slight hint of truth in Sirius' words.

"She's commin' around." The man said, tilting his head. "I'll let your stupidness slide and won't tell Jeremy."

"What would he do?", Sirius laughed. "Put me to sleep on the couch? The man loves me too much for tha', he cannt dream of sleepin' withou' me. Ye know, I'm actually pretty good to hug and..."

"I really don't need to know how's your love life. Shut your trap before I change my mind and have meeting the Cat o' Nine."

"Did you also do that to your men in the army?" Sirius teased, smug. "Did they know what a Cat o' Nine was? Is the cool and collected Cap'n Finnegan loosing his composure? Would yer men be proud?"

"No they fuckin' didn't because they weren't smatasses like you, shark bait! And, in fact, I think they would've begged me to put your down, dog."

"Ohhh, shiver me timbers! Ye'll have to stop hangin' the jib, matey!"

Sam frowned. He sure did want to shove Sirius down the plank.

Sirius saw this as a win. Making Sam unconfortable was one of his favorite past times, anyway.

He dropped the lantern off with Hydra's stuff before going up to the Captain's Cabin. The door was unlocked, so he saw himself right in, as usual, but found Jeremy was not there. Instead, was Michael, sitting in bed, reading a book.

The room was big and confortable - way more so than the lower deck stuffed with hammocks and snores all night long. Sirius smiled as he walked up to Micah, crawling into bed and letting himself fall just close enough to the other man so he would notice.

"Hey, darlin'", Michael smiled, closing the book before giving Sirius all his attention. "Are you alright?"

"Jus'... thinkin'."

"You don't do that often". Michael began playing with the other's hair, waiting to see if he had anything more to say. "What is fillin' yer mind, hearty?"

Sirius couldn't help himself - Micah was so sweet and welcoming, it always made him spill whatever he was holding in mind.

He spoke about how Hydra was acting weird, spoke about his fear for the crew's well being, about Athena's lack of awareness about how Jeremy wanted to shove her down the sea and never let her back up again... all the things he could think of, he spoke about. Spoke about his day, about the beach, about the lantern, about Peggy and about another thousand things.

And Micah heard every word, without interrupting his partner. He just stared into Sirius pretty face, making braids in his long hair while listening. After all was over, then it was time for him to speak.

"I understand you. I also feel like things are rough those last couple of months... it's not our fault, you know?" He tried to tell Sirius, but his own words were lacking the confidence to say it. "It's just what happens when people are stuck together for so long."

Sirius nodded, letting himself relax a bit more under Micah's touch.

"I fear it's actually a response to... whate'er Hydra's been going thru, ye know?" He admited.

"How so?"

"Ye know... she's a Family Goddess. Ye remembe' how when Rod's mom was sick and spring was all fucked up 'cuz of tha'? It's like somethin' like tha' is happenin' to us."

"Go on...?" Michael was actually curious to hear Sirius' theory.

"Maybe Hydra's crisis is wha' is givin' fuel to all those fights? Like... I can't explain but we're family and... kind of... she may be messin' with our bonds withou' noticin'" he said, confused at his own words. "Jus' think 'bout it... doesn't tha' make sense?"

"It does." It wasn't Michael who answered, but Jeremy, who was just quietly listening to their talk. He caught both in surprise, waving while making his way to sit at the bed with them. "Sirius has a good point. That may be the cause of the problem."

"Good, it means I'm the smartest of us now?" He smiled at the Captain, who could only laugh.

"Nah, I think that title stays with Micah."

"Thank you, love." The lycanthrope smiled. "Sirius is right, tho. Maybe Hydra really is havin' trouble and accidentaly lettin' it off on us. We should help her..."

"To be honest, she's already helping herself." Sirius said. "Maybe I should ask her to stay with us the Holiday? Maybe I can make her do it..."

"She loves you. Can't see her saying no to this pretty face." Jeremy winked at him, making Sirius blush and giggle under his breath.

"He's right. She'd be a cold heartless wench to say no to you. I could never!" Micah laughed, which make the other blush even harder.

"Oh, dear. I'll never get used to you two."

---------------------------

#normal sibling interaction #as one does #and PEEEEEEGGY #SHE IS INDEED GETTING HERSELF INTO SITUATIONS ONCE AGAIN #bless this dog #oc #original story #🥨🪶

[smallblueandloud]

2023 fic roundup

2023 was the year of the comeback. in 2021, i wrote about 25k; in 2022, i didn't even keep track. meanwhile, my total wordcount last year was 119,226 words. while that doesn't come close to my 200k from 2020, i am arguably prouder of last year and what it represented. my writing isn't dead! my abilities haven't vanished! i can have fun making art again :D

as always, the summer was the most productive for me. you can see that i wrote more in the spring than the fall -- this roughly corresponds to how i was doing during those times, lol. i had a Much Better spring semester than the fall. september was very rough, i had a very bad time, and it meant my mental health suffered for the rest of the year. but hey, at least i was writing essays :')

some more scattered thoughts:

i was arguably pretty consistent this year? may/june/july all had about the same wordcount (roughly) and i think that's cool. my goal isn't to be doing NaNos, it's to be writing consistently, so i'm very happy with this

ao3 says i published 67k in 2023. minus the first chapter of something out of a dream, which was published in 2020, i believe that's 65k or so total. i wrote 72k of fanfic last year, meaning that there's about 8k from last year still sitting in my google drive (a rough eyeball at my WIPs folder confirms this). these numbers don't QUITE make sense to me, since i used a fair bit of old material in what i published last year, but i'm not going to think about it too hard

i published fic for a whopping fifteen fandoms in 2023. nine of those were fandoms i'd never published anything for before! i am so, so proud of this stat. i remain multifandom as all hell and seeing that represented in my work makes me really :D

two fics -- be amazed by the sky and i got your back (and you got mine) -- were crossovers! i'd only ever written one crossover before (stay all day in the sun, which i still love dearly) and it was fun to play in these playgrounds (mostly by sticking the librarians into other universes, xD)

i published 25 fics last year! and five of those fics were less than 1k, which i also really love. this year i really tried to let go of my idea that my fics Had to be more than 4k (and super polished) before they could see the light of day. i think my writing has been more fun and less stressful because of that.

i polished off 4 multi-year WIPs last year: but the verse is sweet, something out of a dream, don't wanna see you go (but it's not forever), and all we can do today. it felt so, so good to finally get those out there. the only one i have left from The Great Hiatus of 2021-2022 is éponine de bergerac. i will finish that someday, but i'm letting her take her time, because she deserves it. (i DID make good progress on that fic, which is something at least!)

most popular fic of the year was sit there in your heartache, which. is a spirk fic written right after a relevant episode, so not a surprise lol. the fic that surprised me most is actually the sisterhood of the travelling main character plotpoints -- i kinda expected that one to vanish quietly, but the hatchetfield fandom is WAY more active than i expected! which is very cool :D

the fic with the fewest hits was sidenote, which doesn't surprise me, since the librarians isn't a very active fandom and it's a rareship within the fandom anyway. the people who DID read it were very sweet, so i am very grateful for them. (i'm doing fic with the fewest hits because i feel like it's better to focus on that than What Didn't Get Kudos)

i started 2024 with 5 WIPs. i actually already finished one (and then immediately started its sequel, whoops) (shoutout to the ds9 modern au, i'll make a real post about that sometime). none of these fics are particularly progressed, but i'll keep working on them and try to find the Finishing A Project Dopamine from ficlets if i need it.

i didn't really have any Writing Goals for 2023 aside from doing any writing at all, lol. i think for 2024 i want to try to get more consistent with my writing -- instead of doing x number of words per month (which usually happen over 3-4 Big Writing Days), i'd rather try to write for 5 days out of every week, or something like that. we'll see what i can get done.

in the meantime: thank you guys for listening. i'm proud of what i did last year, and i'm excited to see what happens next year :D

#fic roundup #2023 #sb and l rambles #sb and l is writing #let's see what 2024 holds :eyes:

[wilchur]

Tell me about harpers of the weave and hunger of the mind 🔫

Okay SO.. both of these started form one wip -- hunger of the mind. It was all about the party (Ezra, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion only so far) finally getting a moment to breathe for the first time since the nautiloid and Ezra realising "hold on this is not survival instinct, something's fucked in my head real bad" once there's no more foes to fight to get his Durge zoomies out. The Urge settles really heavily on Gale in particular, which is where I got the idea of writing the whole thing from his POV so I moved Ezra's into a separate document. That doc got named "harpers of the weave" because it's a quote from Gale about his hands and Ezra really wants to relieve him of the apendages in that wip lol

"hunger of the mind" doesn't really fit a Gale POV fic anymore, but I was too lazy to change it so I just rewrote the begining and kept going. While it follows the same events, that one is less about Ezra's internal struggles (duh) and more about the gears in Gale's head working overtime trying to figure what the fuck is wrong with the guy who saved his life. Where does his freaky magic come from? Is he a sorcerer? What kind of spell was that even?? Oh no he's staring at me weird again... Maybe he's into me? Do I want him to be into me???

It's so fun.

I think that in the end I'll end up merging the two again if I ever come back to it and just have the POV ping pong a bit to not overcomplicate things 😅

ANYWAY, a little quote from the Ezra POV part because why not (tho I think I've sent it on discord before)

Such a ridiculous idea, to insist on cooking a meal in a time like this, but maybe the feigning of normalcy is the point, at least for Gale. Ezra could not care less and he’d rather stuff the empty space in his stomach with sausage and cheese and be done with it, but the wizard was insistent on using the looters’ supplies to prepare something proper. Last real meal in case they don’t get another chance to enjoy one before their diet turns cerebral, and a distraction for a man that unable to sleep, seems incapable of keeping his hands still. Ezra has no problem indulging him and with no one else voicing their disagreement, Gale is left to chop all the wilted vegetables he wants. He makes short work of them, clearly skilled with a knife despite preferring to keep his hands clean and using spells rather than a weapon during a fight. The dull sound of the steel blade repeatedly coming to a stop against the table fills the quiet space in the same way the drumming of a woodpecker’s beak would break the peaceful silence of the wild and the tranquil imagery it invokes is nearly as offensive to Ezra’s twisted sensibilities as the sound itself is to his ears and migraine-addled brain. The rising annoyance acts like a magnifying glass, it gathers his focus and brought out from the dark chambers of his mind where the memories his past should be, Ezra stops staring mindlessly and instead observes. He begins to watch Gale’s slender fingers lead the knife with the same interest a cat would track the movement of rustled grass in hopes of catching a glimpse of reckless prey, blessedly unaware of the looming danger. He near stops breathing in anticipation as the blade continues to come down unbloodied, always guided by the surface of Gale’s fingernails and never allowed to come close to drawing even the tiniest speckle of red from his flesh. It wouldn’t take much; one can bite off a finger with little more force than it takes to pierce through a raw carrot. One slip up or a bit of help to fix this blasphemous display. If not with teeth or knife wrought from Gale’s unsuspecting hand, then with the dagger he took off a looter’s corpse and that has been waiting in shameful disuse Ezra could spill the wizard’s blood all over the table and claim those bony digits as a trophy. Or better yet, go for the wrist and take the whole hand. The hungry thought crossed his mind before, but he shood it away to offer help instead of dismemberment. It’s a wrong that can still be righted if he’s quick enough and can manage it before either of his three companions stop him.

#i really don't like it but it is what it is and you asked so #oh the joys of fic writing

[ufuckingpastry]

I've been feeling in a rough patch lately and most of it's manifested in insecurities and a general lack of motivation to work on any writing projects. I haven't touched PB since I put it on hiatus. I came up with a really fun writing series that just petered off into nothing. I've barely progressed and done anything, even though I'm having all these cool story ideas!

If you've been here for a while, you might've noticed that I stopped writing a couple years back, right around when Homestuck ended. Homestuck was the first major fandom I was in and the first one I posted fanfic for. My AO3 has 50 works just for Homestuck. And, when it ended, it felt like so did my desire to create.

Of course, this was right around my last year of college and ohhhhh fuck that was stressful. Plus I got really into WoW too. I didn’t really have much time to write in general.

I struggled for 3 years feeling like I could barely write anything at all. I was in such a depressive funk at the time, and the feeling like I couldn't create only worsened it. It took me 3 months to write 1000 words.

And then, one day, something amazing happened. I got into dsmp, I got into these characters, and on a whim, I sat down and wrote my first fic for it. In the span of 3 days, I wrote 3000 words! And I was happy! And I posted it and people seemed to love it!

My AO3 now has at least 30 fics just for dsmp, and I've got folders upon folders of other projects and ideas springing up every day for new fics for other smp series!

And yet, I'm starting to see myself falter. With the dsmp ending, and especially ending like it did, it reminds me so much of Homestuck. And I see myself doing the same things and behaving the same way I did 6 years ago. Struggling to write. A lack of focus and motivation to work on any of my projects. An external source of immense stress that makes me feel like I don’t have much time to write anymore.

And it's frustrating on a personal level to see that. Therapy opened my eyes to recognizing my patterns of behavior. I can prevent myself from spiraling. I can recognize when I need a break and I can take that break and barely feel guilty for it. And yet, here I am again. Will it soon take me a month to write 1000 words?

Have I even written 1000 words this very month?

... so I've written 5000.

In 2022, I decided that I wanted to track my yearly word count. I wrote so MUCH in 2021 that I broke 100k words posted on AO3 for that year. But that was just finished works! None of my wips, which I knew I had a lot more of! So I tracked my word count in 2022 and I think I hit around 150k? And that's impressive! That's cool!

So I did it again for 2023. But it's been harder to keep up with that over the last few months. I've been in a limbo of not knowing how many words I've written. Based on the fact that I haven't made any progress on my fics, that number must be very low, I thought.

And then I updated my word count yesterday. And I realized something:

I've written over 5000 words this month. Which isn't a lot, sure, but it's a lot for me. And, you know what? That's on track for January and February. March was fucking wild cuz I broke 14k words in March. And I know from tracking it last year, whenever I get a huge spike of words in one month, it takes maybe another month to recover. So my next month won't be as big or grand, but that's okay.

And that made me sit back and really look at what that means. I've been rping a lot, which is where the majority of those words come from. I wrote 1.5k words in a single DAY and I'm over here wondering why I don't have any words left in me! When I was in my last writing slump, I was still rping. All I did was rp.

I'm still writing, even when I don't think I am. I'm still expressing myself in these creative outlets even when I don't think it's "real writing". And why does it matter what's real writing anyways? Isn't it enough that I'm still doing it?

It is. It is enough. Therapy helped me recognize my patterns of behavior, and sometimes the answer really is to just. Take a break.

It'll still be here when you get back.

#pastry noises #that's a lot of noises huh #long post

[rachelfivehundred]

A Year in Review & Looking Ahead - 2022 edition

Wow.  If I thought 2021 was a bit of a struggle writing wise, it had nothing on 2022.  I’ve really, really struggled to have the energy and motivation to write.  The upshot of it all is that I definitely did not achieve my 2022 goals.

Original Fiction/Non-Fiction: No original story.  I’ve pretty much left my Vocal account go fallow. 

I did have a great idea over the Summer but things were incredibly stressful with work and that took up all my headspace.  Then I started a new job...and I just do not have the bandwidth to start what I know will be a big project.

I thought I’d focus on fanfiction instead...

Fanfiction:

I started out in reasonable shape... January: I posted two stories in my Stargate Aftershocks series:-

Faulty Beliefs, coda to S8 Icon: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36128263

Faith, coda to S8 Avatar: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36573985

and after a weird YouTube spiral a fic I thought I’d never write, a Sex and the City/And Just Like That fanfic in Samantha’s POV: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36232627

February: I posted two more S8 Aftershocks:-

Limited Choices, a coda to S8 Affinity: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36921310

Second Chances, a coda to S8 Covenant:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/37369066

March: I posted all 3 of my entries into the Big Moxie Q1 Challenge which was Canon Divergence.  I chose to take Tony DiNozzo in 3 different directions, one at the start of his NCIS career (Rule One), one in the middle (Rule Fifty-One), and one at the end (Rule Five).  These are collated into my Variations on DiNozzo series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2812654

And then things started to go a bit off track. I signed up for April’s and July’s Rough Trade, but could not complete either of my fics due to energy issues.  

I did manage to post something for Q2′s Big Moxie Fusion/Sentinel as the deadline was extended but wasn’t completely happy with it.  I preferred my original attempt but that was too short for the challenge itself.

The Mand’alor’s Guide: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40284972

Seeing Clearly: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40328322

I attempted my Q3 Big Moxie, but could not complete on time for posting.

I only just squeaked in with my Q4 Big Moxie Soulmates - posting today:

Very Special Magic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43973778

So.  Not a particularly great showing.  Of everything I’ve written Seeing Clearly is probably my favourite of this year’s story-writing.

Fanfic Decluttering / Works in Progress:

Having decluttered my writing folder last year, I find myself at the turn of this year reviewing the folder and realising I might need to do the same again.  I have many incomplete fics written as part of challenges or just when my muse struck. I have too many now to list below.

Goals in 2023:

Original Fiction: I’d like to keep my 2022 goal and write one original story in 2023 but only if I get the headspace for my idea.

Fanfiction:

Still focused on finishing up Aftershocks.  I like the fact that I managed to make a little progress in 2022, even if there are still a sizeable number of fics still left to finish S8 (10).

I’m taking part in the Big Moxie Challenge again which is a second goal.

Other than that, I am not committing to completing anything else WIP or to start finishing up another series - I know people are keen on my writing the rest of the A Step to the Right series in Harry Potter fandom and I am still committed to doing it sometime in the future but not in 2023.    

If you’ve read to the end of this, once again thank you for your patience :) Hope you have a wonderful 2023!

#fanfic #2023 goals #year in review #2022

[wordsnstuff]

Guide to Writing Episodic Plot Structure

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Understand The Structure

Episodic plot structure is more of a rounded story structure than others there are to choose from. Especially because some of the storylines are a lot more self contained. Subplots are generally either much longer and detailed than you would find in other structures, or they’re much shorter, contained in just a small amount of time. It’s important that if you’re attempting this structure, you determine which subplots and conflicts are deserving of a rounded, slower payoff, versus a short, snippy lifespan that is more for the sake of entertainment than developing the conflict and characters. 

Is This Structure Right For Your Story?

A lot of writers choose this structure for their stories thinking that it’s a lot easier to come up with a solid path from point A to point B in the story, simply because the format is seemingly stricter and more uniform. However, this can be tricky because you must create a tree-branch like map of events and consequences because as the overarching plot is slowly developing behind them, the characters’ immediate concerns and conflicts must be more entertaining and of consistent quality. 

Make The Main Character(s) Proactive, Not Reactive

When you have a quick-moving plot with a self-sustainable conflict, there’s more room to let the characters simply react to what’s happening to them and still produce a dynamic and compelling storyline. However, when you have several self-contained plot points within an overarching story, you need to make sure a good chunk of the plot occurs because of the characters’ actions, not the other way around. If you’re struggling to come up with ideas for the episodes themselves, it’s worth examining how much of what the characters are doing is reactionary, rather than in pursuit of something. 

Have A Strong Connecting Factor

The episodes and converging plots within them must be connected by more than just the people they happen to. The episodes should each be a domino falling in a larger process. The characters are obviously the most easily identifiable connection, but you must also make them cohesive with one another in the grander scheme of the story you’re ultimately trying to tell and the way you’ve chosen to do so. 

Give The Episodes A Larger End-Place

Unlike the overarching plot, the episodes do not need a complete resolution. In fact, most of them should have some small open window to allow for revisitation or development in the future of the story. Take advantage of what the reader may overlook or what consequences of the episode may mean for their future. Yes, they should end tied up in a neat fashion by nature of the plot structure, but they do not need to be contained absolutely. 

Common Struggles

~ What's a good way to leave off without doing too many cliffhangers or awkward endings?... As I said in the last point, the containment of each episode doesn’t need to be complete. I don’t mean that every episode should end in a cliffhanger, but there should be one or two aspects within each episode that could be revisited in the future. The reason there exist “filler episodes” in many stories is because readers can sense there’s nothing more to note about those installments. There’s no “but what about this” or “I bet that’s gonna come up again”. Leave off with those moments and you’ll be golden. 

~ How do you do overarching plots in episodic stories?... With great strategy and subtlety. Always write with a bigger purpose, always keep tabs on your loose ends, and always track the development of plot and characters. You may have an end goal in mind, you may not, but you must allow your characters and story to evolve organically and when changes occur that you do not expect, work with them, not against them.

~ How do you maintain a good flow?... Pacing and tone are key. Flow is really just a way of measuring how efficiently you’re using the text to tell the story and progress the plot. Be intentional with which events receive a lot of attention and which events are summarized or inferred, and make sure that you transition tones with great care. 

~ How do you make each episode consistently important and engaging?... Focus on quality, not quantity. Again, filler episodes are a symptom of redundancy and an inability to evolve with your story. If you set out to write 10 parts and you write a fantastic story in 8, you haven’t failed and it’s not too rushed. Concise writing is an underrated talent. Focus on how effectively you engage the reader, not for how long. 

Other Resources...

Useful Writing Resources | Part II

31 Days of Character Development : May 2018 Writing Challenge

31 Days of World Building : August 2018 Writing Challenge

31 Days of Plot Development : January 2019 Writing Challenge

Resources For Plot Development

Guide To Plot Development

How To Write A Good Plot Twist

How To Foreshadow

Writing Long Stories Without Filler

Tackling Subplots

Things A Reader Needs From A Story

How To Turn A Good Idea Into A Good Story

Planning A Scene

When To Stop Planning

Tips on Mapping Out A Series

Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Stories

Plot Structures

How To Write A Story Timeline

Tips on Planning A Series

Coming Up With Scene Ideas

How To Engage The Reader

Building Upon A Good Premise

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.

Shoutout to my $15+ patrons, Jade Ashley and Douglas S.!

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #resources for writers #writing reference #writing help #writespo #writing inspiration #writing motivation #inspiration #motivation #plot structure

[leslie-lyman]

A WIP Update

Now that the main story of SAMG is done, and because it is Sleepover Saturday, I wanted to give you all a peek into my WIP folder. I’ve alluded to several of these fics in various asks and comments and conversations with folks, so here’s some more info about things I’ve got cooking. I also have been tagged by so many folks in that WIP ask game that goes around every so often in the past few months and I have resisted every time because I wanted to solely focus on SAMG, so consider this me making up for/participating in it now (and I know for that game you just post the titles, but once I started writing lil summary blurbs for these stories I couldn’t stop).

This is an open invitation for anyone to send me thoughts and questions about any of these you like, I’m absolutely fucking dying to talk about/share snippets from them.

The House I Will Live In (Pero x Tessa)

The SAMG sequel! This one will not be a large multi-chapter fic the way SAMG is, but there are some aspects of Pero and Tessa’s life together that I really want to tell y’all about, so this will be a few chapters that serve as a follow-up to the main story.

Sins of the Father (Max Lord x OFC) (White Collar AU)

Set post-WW84, Max avoids jail time by becoming a consultant for the FBI on corporate fraud cases. He’s accepted that his personal life for the foreseeable future will be dedicated to being a better father to Alastair, for who would ever give a disgraced conman with an ankle monitor a second glance? Enter Rose Parker, a young lawyer working for a legal aid organization in DC, who’s no stranger to second chances and may be willing to give Max the one he so desperately wants. That is, if they can keep the sins of their respective pasts from tearing them apart…

Despite the Abundance (Javier Peña x OFC)

Bogota, 1989: Eleanor “Ellie” Hess is a forensic accountant and the new third wheel neither Javi nor Steve asked for in their hunt for Escobar. While Javi and Steve track sicarios through the streets of Medellin, Ellie races to unravel the financial secrets of the cartel to help them bring Escobar down. Ellie and Javi can’t deny their attraction to one another, but Ellie doesn’t do office hookups, and lord knows Javier Peña doesn’t do relationships. It’s an untenable status quo, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them gives in.

The Sun Amidst Small Stars (Din Djarin x Jedi!OFC)

Set post-the events of The Tragedy, but where Din and Grogu (and the Razor Crest) escape the Darktroopers. Grogu’s time on the Seeing Stone connects him not with Luke Sywalker, but Miriamora “Miriam” Corros, a woman trained as a Jedi but disillusioned with the ways of the old Jedi Order. With Miriam on board the Crest as Grogu’s live-in teacher, Din fulfills his task of reuniting the child with his own kind without having to give him up. But there’s still the threat of Moff Gideon to deal with, to say nothing of the much more immediate crisis of having a beautiful, powerful woman from a race of enemy sorcerers as an unexpected roommate.

Untitled Frankie Morales x F!reader one-shot (or maybe a two-shot?)

Frankie accidentally injures you, and the guilt-ridden pilot helps take care of you as you recover. Friends-to-lovers.

Untitled Marcus Pike x OFC series #1 (aka CNC!Marcus)

Both my Marcus fics are heavily inspired by my love of The West Wing. As-yet-unnamed OFC works on Capitol Hill. Dating in DC is a nightmare, but Marcus Pike could be convinced to try his hand at love again with the right girl. And this time, he’s determined to take his time and do things right. But when she’s unexpectedly pulled into his latest investigation of a dangerous crime ring, fate may throw them together more quickly than Marcus intends.

Untitled Marcus Pike x f!reader/OFC series #2 (aka Congressman Marcus Pike!!!)

Marcus Pike: young, progressive, unbelievably handsome, and newly elected representative for Texas’s 27th district. He came to Congress to make change and help people, but he never expected that in between meetings and votes and fundraisers that he would also fall for someone again…

Rights and Wrongs Part 2 (Whiskey x f!reader)

The R&W follow-up in which reader recovers from her abortion and finally confesses her feelings to Jack.

Untitled Whiskey x f!reader one-shot #1

Established relationship. You and Whiskey live together, and you’re sure he’s The One, but when you accidentally become pregnant, you have no idea how he’ll react. [This is the only fic on this list that I know for sure won’t be explicit.]

Untitled Whiskey x f!reader one-shot #2

You admit to Whiskey the secret that’s harming your love life and your mental health: you can’t orgasm in front of another person. Jack takes it upon himself to prove to you a man can accept and love you just the way you are. Heavy themes of anxiety and insecurity. Friends-to-lovers.

Untitled Zach Wellison x F!reader fic (a one-shot? A series? Who knows!)

You’re an artist and friend of Justin’s when you meet the homeless ex-Marine sleeping on his couch. As Zach tries to get his life together, you start to hope that there might be a place for you in it.

The Ezra Romancing the Stone AU

This is literally just an idea. I have nothing written for this. But Romancing the Stone is one of my favorite films and I’ve wanted to write an AU using it for a long time, I just have never settled on which character I want to write it for. But consider the Ezra similarities: a dangerous loner of questionable moral character rescues a woman and goes on a trek through a perilous jungle full of enemies in search of a jewel worth a fortune that many are willing to kill for??? Hmm…

And finally, the one non-Pedro fic in the mix. Before I got hit by the freight train that is my Pedro hyperfixation, my brain was previously ruled by my Tom Hiddleston/Loki hyperfixation. This Loki fic is the one that got me back into writing fanfiction for the first time since high school. I’ve got almost 35,000 words written of this story, and I’m hoping that one day my motivation for it will come back, because I still love it dearly.

i’ve come to burn (your kingdom down) (Loki x soulmate!OFC)

In which throneless, refugee princes still have so much further to fall. And Loki, for once, can hardly be blamed. For in the end, gods’ hearts are just as foolish as mortals’. But the threat of Thanos hangs heavy over the galaxy, and what bonds dare grow in the shadow of the Mad Titan’s revenge?

Featuring: Asgardians making it safely to Earth post-Ragnarok; Loki’s human soulmate being an ex-Master of the Mystic Arts who now makes her living as a bookbinder; excessive discussions of and strong opinions about tea; enemies-to-lovers; a restored Victorian house; vibes strongly inspired by Gilmore Girls and that season 2 arc of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel where they spend the summer in the Catskills

Shamelessly pspspspsing some mutuals who may be interested and/or have already had to deal with hearing me talk about some of these and/or who have tagged me in the WIP ask game in the past: @ezrasbirdie @whataperfectwasteoftime @jazzelsaur @radiowallet @the-ginger-hedge-witch @iamskyereads @green-socks @lowlights @oonajaeadira @magpie-to-the-morning @starlightmornings

#wip game #I’m so excited to finally feel free to talk about these #especially the Congressman Marcus Max Lord and Ezra fics #those three have been occupying the majority of my thoughts lately #also Ellie Hess and Rose Parker have face claims if y’all are curious #also also please someone ask me about the titles for the fics that have titles? #cause I’m like stupidly proud of them #sleepover saturday

[smallhorizons]

SUPER LATE, but if there's any of these you haven't done for the WIP game i would love to know more 👀 "to eat well - sequel" || "TMA S1 - Token Straight" || "MAG what if dating??" || "TMA Self Indulgent Time Travel AU"

Hello hello! Thanks for sending me WIPs, and sorry for the delay!

I've answered TMA Self Indulgent Time Travel AU here and MAG what if dating?? here, so I'll focus on the other two.

to eat well - sequel

As the imaginative title suggests, this fic is a sequel to to eat well, in which Jon and Martin's developing relationship over the course of S1-4 is explored through food and the preparation thereof. When I outlined to eat well, my intention was to end the fic with a final scene of Jon and Martin cooking one of the recipes Jon prepared for Martin together in the safehouse. However, this fic was for an exchange, and I was working on the fic at the absolute last minute, and there ended up being a natural stopping point before they could cook together.

After posting to eat well, I almost immediately outlined a sequel based on my first experience making kibbeh, in which I had to keep substituting ingredients since the store near my parents didn't have several of the more traditional ingredients the recipe I had called for. Cue me texting my friend whose family recipe it was frantically, asking what substitutions would be okay. I'd really like to return to the fic, because, well. It's fun, and Syrian Jon holds a special place in my heart.

Here's the start of the fic:

“Well,” Martin says, already beginning to unpack the groceries before Jon even manages to fully detangle himself from the blankes, “they didn’t have lamb, so I got beef instead.”

“That’s fine,” Jon says, eyes tracking the array of spices Martin is lining up on the counter. “Many recipes call for either.”

“And, um, they didn’t have harissa, but I asked one of the grocers and she looked it up, and apparently sriracha is an okay substitute, and you can add some of the extra spices in yourself? So, I got that, too, and the spices that I could find.”

“Well, that’s--that’s not ideal, but we’ll manage,” Jon says. He frowns at the sriracha that Martin clunks onto the counter.

“And, well, they didn’t have bulghur wheat, and I couldn’t find the grocer again to ask, so I got, um, well. Couscous and quinoa? Maybe one of those will work?”

Jon blinks at the duo of bags, feeling vaguely unsettled. “Ah,” he says. “That’s. Hm. I’m--I’m honestly not sure if we’re making kibbeh at this point.”

More below the cut!

TMA S1 - Token Straight

This fic was born out of conversations with @dathen in which we both were peeved by how common it was in fic for the Archives crowd to assume Jon was straight, and how it seemed like it was becoming a trope for them to (affectionately?) bully him into coming out to them. The fic was gonna address how unfair it was to make assumptions about a person's sexuality to them in a way that essentially forced them to come out, the ace (and aro) fears of not being "queer enough", and complicated conversations about how people choose or choose not to be "out".

I have the beginning written and the emotional beats of the rest of the fic outlined, but I sort of lost steam after my initial annoyance faded XD

Here's an excerpt:

“Hey, boss!” Tim said, leaning back in his chair and grinning at a sour-faced Jon.

Jon scowled at him. “Tim. What are you wasting time on now?”

“Oh, we were just talking about how you’re the token straight in the office,” Tim said easily. Martin sputtered, feeling his face go hot.

“Tim, why would you say that?” Martin hissed as, exasperated, Sasha said, “Really, Tim?”

Tim shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? Tell me, Jon, how’s it feel to be the only straight dude in a department full of queers?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said after a brief pause, “what?”

“You know.” Tim waved his hand dismissively. “I’m bi. Sasha’s bi. Martin is gay as the day as long. None of us is particularly subtle about it. And you’re ...” He gestured. “You know. The only one who’s straight. Our token straight representation.”

“I know what a token straight is,” Jon said, clearly exasperated. “I’m just curious to know what on earth gave you the impression that I’m heterosexual.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #osiris writes #shinyopals #answered

[demonologistfucker]

WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning. 

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC. 

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes. 

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind. 

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance. 

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over. 

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth. 

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.” 

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.” 

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression. 

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before. 

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises. 

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them. 

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement. 

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh. 

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction. 

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles. 

“Not worried about your safety?” 

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,” 

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too. 

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice. 

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

    “Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC. 

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic. 

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh. 

 “The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

    “The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

    “Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine. 

    “Then what is it?” 

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole. 

“Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“ 

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk. 

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read. 

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?” 

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed. 

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel. 

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement. 

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger. 

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.” 

“That’s fair,” MC nods. 

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all? 

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot. 

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away. 

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them. 

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off. 

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven. 

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified. 

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way. 

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils. 

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.” 

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon. 

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself. 

“Me too,”

#wip #angel!mc #obey me #obey me satan #my writing

[canariie]

under the blue moon

Rating: K+

Synopsis: One of their first meetings at night: though they may have been on different paths in school, under the light of the blue moon, they found themselves coming back to a home they both didn’t know they needed.

Word Count: 3050 words

Setting: Shinigami Academy Days (post Bleach Chapter -16 & somewhere in between Bleach Drama CD Track 08 'Flashback')

Prompt: Hitsuhina Week 2021 Day 2 - Dream / On a Field of Ice 

Authour’s Note: I’m here! I’m here! I know it’s been a while but I have been loving all of the posts that everyone has been doing for this weeks celeberation!!  So lovely to see the hitsuhina community alive :)

Sorry this was late but this has been sitting in my wips for about a year? And I had most of it written but it was harder to finish since it had been so long! However, when I saw the themes for this year’s @hitsuhina-week​, I knew I had to finish it up!

Special shout out to Aoi Tori & Still With You being the songs that I played continuously on repeat to finish this up :)

Enjoy!

—

Momo clutched the fabric of her uniform as she looked dejectedly at the final report. No matter the amount of times that she stared at the red marks on the paper, they didn’t disappear. Her vision blurred as an onslaught of tears pricked at her eyes, making her head hurt. For once this semester, Momo was glad she was alone so her roommate wouldn’t see her in such a sorry state.

At the end of the fifth year were the practical’s that determined what concentrations one would focus on in their last years of study before graduating from the Academy. Momo, Renjii and Izuru were all studying different paths to focus on: Renjii in physical swordmanship, and Momo and Izuru with the demon arts, hers in combat and his in healing. For the past couple weeks, the trio had been studying and practicing almost every waking hour that they were not in class. Also, as part of the advanced class, there was an expectation that one would pass all the practical’s in the first round before continuing on. If not, one had to wait until the next semester before taking the exam again.

Unfortunately, the brown-haired girl had pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. On top of the near sleepless nights, her anxiety had grown inside her, almost crippling her. Momo had usually preferred taking written tests over the physical tests since she could pull things easily from memory. However, the thought of failing the exam had left her mind at a blank when she tried to remember the incantations for the written portion of the exam. The fear of failure haunted her still to the physical component where they practiced different spells and she found herself missing the target—and almost singeing the hair off her professor’s head.

She didn’t wait a second longer after the dismissal and ran to her room, ignoring Renjii and Izuru’s concerned looks. Momo locked herself inside, hiding herself underneath all her many blankets. There was no need to look at the practical results posted outside the Grand Assembly Hall as she already knew it in her heart—she didn’t need to physically see it.

Momo sighed as she looked at the clock in her room, signaling it was way past the time she usually went to sleep. Even the sight of the blue moon illuminating a path on her bed couldn’t cheer her up, and Momo tucked her feet in, pulling her knees tight to her chest. She didn’t know how long she had cried but now she felt exhausted and spent. Skipping dinner didn’t really help her cause and it only left her to focus on the bitter thoughts that replayed and occupied her mind.

I’m so pathetic…how am I ever going to become a vice captain if I can’t even pass the practical’s.

The wind howled outside and she could hear the branch of the tree hitting her window, reminding her of windy nights in Junrinan.

I wish I were home now with Obaa-san…and Shiro-chan.

The tree rapped at her window persistently.

How can I face them with marks like this? What would they say?

Louder and louder the noise grew, competing with the roaring outside.

What a disappointment I am…

The noise grew louder and it as almost as if something knocking urgently at her window. Momo turned her head just as a white tuft of hair popped up, follow by the two scrawny arms of her childhood friend.

“Shiro-chan!” Momo gasped. “What are you doing? You can’t climb in through the window!”

“And why not?” Toushiro retorted as he pulled himself on the ledge. “There’s no one here to stop me.” He looked around, noticing the empty room. “Where’s your roommate?”

“She went home for the weekend,” she responded quickly, distracted by the way the boy was perched on the window sill. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you should have used the dorm entrance! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I climb trees all the time back home,” he replied offhandedly, “Climbing up to your window is no different.”

“That doesn’t matter Shiro-chan! You can still get hurt!” Momo could feel her anxiety pick up as she shook her head furiously, her pig tails whipping around.

Toushiro gave her a pointed look. “Hinamori, didn’t you say you would call me ‘Hitsugaya’ by now?”

She bit back a retort as she did realize, yes that she had agreed to that when he had entered the academy. “It’s still taking me a while to get used to,” Momo mumbled.

He scoffed and settled himself on the ledge. A part of Momo wanted to urgently grab him and pull him inside, for fear of him falling. However, what rooted her on her bed was the knowledge that her deeply inquisitive childhood friend would immediately notice her dried tear tracks—and she did not want him to see her in such a sorry state.

Though she seemed anxious of his safety on the outside, inside she was elated that he was here. It had been a while since they had properly seen each other, with the last time being when she introduced Toushiro to Izuru. The first year was extremely busy Momo remembered, and she had hardly seen Toushiro except for quick glimpses of his white hair moving through the hallways. Their lunch schedules were also different as she had practical’s during the first-year lunch slot—so even those moments were hard to come by. Now looking at him in his uniform, it was the first time that Momo realized how much he had grown into his clothes. It didn’t hang off his slender body, like his clothes in Jurinran did. Almost as if…

“You’ve gained weight,” Momo stated softly.

The boy turned his head sharply towards her. “What?”

Her eyebrows rose in shock, suddenly realizing the misimplications of what she just said. “No-no! I mean you look healthy! It’s a good thing!” Her warm brown eyes crinkled fondly. “I’m happy you’re able to eat more here.”

Toushiro’s eyes widened, before he narrowed them. “I had enough to eat at Obaa-san’s. Not that you would know.”

After he said it, he immediately regretted it when he saw her face fall. Momo grabbed her arms, tucking her them further into herself.

“You’re right,” Momo admitted. “I wasn’t there often for you and Obaa-san.” She sighed dejectedly. “I’m such a terrible person…” 

A silence stretched in between them that no one wanted to fill. Toushiro didn’t know what he had planned that night—words of comfort weren’t really his forté and he didn’t want to get too close to her in case he hurt her. But he knew inside, he had to make sure she was alright.

“I saw the results posted outside the Assembly Hall.” He looked at her with his dark jade eyes. “…how are you?” It was just above a whisper, but something inside her broke.

Her eyes glimmered with tears and could feel a sob crawl into her throat. Though she had not wanted to alarm her dear friend, when she looked into his eyes, she found herself retelling everything. From the hours of study to the actual exam day, as Momo recounted everything she could visibly see Toushiro soften with a look of pity. “I’m so pathetic,” Momo commented as she picked a stray thread on her bed spread, “if I can’t pass the practical’s, how can I even think of becoming a vice captain?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here…” she turned her face into the pillow, refusing to look at the boy.

Toushiro remained rooted on the ledge, frozen and unsure what to do. He had never seen Momo this dejected before and yet, he didn’t know what he could offer for comfort.

Though it was a couple steps, it felt like a mile-wide gap. His shoulders tucked into himself and he could feel his resolve crumbling. The necessary distance to keep her safe was pushing her further away. Toushiro could see Momo receding back into a shell that was not the confident girl he knew—and it ached inside to see her in such a sorry state.

“And-and I could feel the anxiety in my stomach,” Momo lamented softly. “My mind blanked and I couldn’t remember anything…it was like I was paralyzed.” Even now thinking about it again made Momo want to curl back into a ball and hide away from the shame. Clutching her head, she moaned, “And now my head just hurts…”

All of a sudden Momo felt a cool touch on her forehead. Like a sigh of clarity, she could feel her mind slow down and the dull ache that was throbbing in the back began to dissipate. What felt like a tempest of anxiety inside her chest dulled to a breath of fresh winter air.

Momo looked up in wonderment. “…How?”

Just as quick, Toushiro pulled his hand back, almost as if he had burned himself. “I can’t control it well but that should help your headache for a bit.” His jade eyes flickered anxiously at the proximity. “However, I shouldn’t stay close,” he said as he began to move himself away.

“No!” Momo yelped as she scrambled to pull his hand in. “Please don’t go,” her voice broke at the last note. She couldn’t handle being by herself for another moment longer. Momo looked up and could see an inner storm inside the boy’s eyes. For as much as his body was stiff with shock, his eyes gave it away that he fought a battle within to bring himself to stand by her bedside.  

He sighed in defeat and Momo could instantly feel a lightness in her chest. “I’ll stay…” he managed out weakly. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely for even the hanging blue moon wouldn’t say what hour it was. What initially was an anguished long sleepless night became a comfortable quiet accompanied by the soft whistles of the wind. Her eyelids fell heavily though Momo struggled to remain awake, determined to be as present as she could now that her friend was here. However, she could not resist the quick falls of slumber, especially when she began to sense soft sapphire lights after she closed her eyes.  

“Your reiatsu…I can start to see it now.” Momo sighed in content.

“Really?” He was shocked as he had just started to work on controlling it. The first years were required in their core classes to practice channeling their reiatsu before proceeding further in the rest of the Shinigami curriculum.

“I don’t think I ever realized before how…blue it was.” She smiled to herself. “It’s like snow—like the first day that I met you.” He too remembered that day well; it was the first one in his memories.

Toushiro was apprehensive as he laid the back of his hand on her forehead. “Does it…hurt?”

“No…It’s actually comforting.” She closed her eyes as she whispered. “It reminds me of home.”

At that point, Toushiro was glad that it was the dark of the night for his ears felt as if they were on fire–and he couldn’t imagine how red his face was. Momo’s breaths had evened and he could see her chest move up and down peacefully. He was glad to see her eyebrows relaxed and a peaceful expression of sleep on her face.

He trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek and could feel the dried tracks of her tears. “Stupid…” he muttered, “don’t keep everything to yourself.”

This was the first time since coming to school that he had tried channeling his rieatsu. Since he had almost unwillingly froze his grandmother to death, Toushiro isolated himself from the rest of his class— in case he had hurt anyone unintentionally. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone so he shied away from handshakes, familiar gestures and cornered himself in the back of the crowd—never close enough to touch another soul. Even now today, he second guessed coming here. It was only seeing the results pinned on the door that cleared his doubts and he took off in the night.  

This was the first time that he was so physically close to someone.

It terrified him to be beside Momo.

It shocked him more that she was comforted by his reiatsu.

He hadn’t seen her for a long time since she was so busy studying. Even though they were now in the same school, he felt even more distant from her. A part of him resented that she had not come home more to visit him and Obaa-san. A small voice would coax in his ear that she had abandoned him and solely him by moving on to new friends. He knew it was irrational to think so but it was difficult to deny himself that bitterness. That being said, he couldn’t fight the feeling of making sure she okay—which as long as he was in school, he could do.  

Toushiro wasn’t rushing to finish his studies; as long as he could control his rieatsu and powers, that was the main reason he would stay.

Well….He looked down as he felt Momo clutch his shirt in her hand.

Maybe that wasn’t the only reason.

--

The dreams had not stopped since he had entered the academy. From the moment he closed his eyes, he could feel himself falling back until he hit hard ground.

It was always the same world.

White plains stretching as far and wide to meet the sunless horizon. There was no sense of day and night. Only the dead spindly trees piercing the sky indicated that life couldn’t continue in this hopeless place. Toushiro always felt like these were the premonitions of his inevitable future, a feeling that knotted at the pit of his stomach.

However, he was never alone. A thundering noise always echoed in the distance but he could never place it. Though far, he could feel its intensity at the tip of his fingers, as if beckoning him to grab a hold of it.

It was only when a grand ice dragon appeared in front of him that it turned dark with a winter storm.

Toushiro had to draw his arms up against the torrid bursts of biting wind. Though it did not move, Toushiro could feel its ancient presence of powers from far before him, holding his stare and rooting him to ground. It was crushing him and embracing him—as if thunder was falling in his palms.

“Who are you!” But a loud burst of wind obscured the thunderous roar of the dragon. “I can’t hear you!” And again and again he would call out, wanting and yearning to learn of this beast—but never would he get far before waking up in a cold sweat.

Until tonight, when the storm receded and the quiet came.

The dragon stood, as if waiting for Toushiro to make the first move. Throwing back his head, he gazed up and stared into his blood red eyes. Maybe he should’ve been afraid of dying a cold death. But instead, he felt a kinship to this icy beast—almost as if they had the same soul. Looking into the beast’s eyes he could recognize loneliness.

And it ached inside him.

“There are things I want to protect with this borrowed strength…”

The desperation clawed from inside of his chest; a deep well of pent up feelings brimming to the surface so much so that he wanted no more than to fling it out as much as he could.

“I want to protect…”

A desire grew inside for the energy that thrummed inside, to take it and use it. To let it consume him and envelop him whole for a now clear goal.

A flash of warm brown eyes appeared in his mind.

“I want to protect her!”

The dragon roared again but this time Toushiro could feel its power resonate inside him, as if he were the one calling out to be named.

“My name is…Hyourinmaru!”

His eyes flew open in shock and his could see his breath appear in a puff of frost. Immediately, he turned his head trying to look at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Mmhh…Shiro-chan.” He looked down to see Momo’s head against his chest, clutching his shirt tightly. Somehow, in the middle of the night, she had pulled herself onto his chest and tucked herself right under his chin. Toushiro’s visceral reaction was to push her off before she caught hypothermia from him. However, right as he grabbed her shoulders he felt immediate warmth flow into his hands. It traveled through his whole body, alleviating any anxiety that Toushiro had.

Is she countering my rieatsu with her’s?

He could sense a soft red orange glow and warmth emanating from Momo. As she breathed softly against his chest, the warmth grew in intensity, like a candle that flickers during a cold night. It reached inside him to his soul and sent welcome heat throughout his body. Toushiro closed his eyes in content and wrapped his arms around her instinctively.

What was that about?

As if frost had melted off a glass pane, his dream was clearer than ever before. Instead of the sound of thundering obscuring its name, Toushiro had been able to heed the voice of the dragon and even feel it resonate inside his soul. Hyourinmaru...even its name echoed immense power.

For now, many questions were running through his mind. However, a realization as clear as a bell in the night ran through his head.

Toushiro looked down at the sleeping form, blissfully unaware of all that had transpired. Though they were in complete darkness of the middle of the night, the blue moonlight only highlighted her features. Long thick lashes that were once spiked with tears rested gently against his chest. Her mouth slightly open as she sighed in content. Toushiro had never seen Momo look so at peace, which he realized, quelled the inner storm of his world.

This power, it’s meant to protect her…

In the back of his mind, he could hear the roar of the dragon, almost as if in assent.

And with that he closed his eyes—ready to face a new day with his resolution in his arms.

—

Authour’s Note: This was inspired by a post I had seen once talking about how Momo’s fire rieatsu counteracted Toushiro’s icy one -- which was one of the reasons that Obaa-san started to freeze after Momo left. (headcanon post by @alexiethymia) I loved the premise though, especially that I can totally see it as canon that their powers both balance each other out and they really are stronger together :)

I also definitely headcanon that through some revelation concerning Momo does Toushiro finally overcome whatever inner block he has and is able to learn the name of his zanpaktou. Definitely inspired by the drama CDs, I think there’s such rich material that expands on the hitsuhina relationship. In my mind, she’s kind of the like the defroster on his frosty glass that is his mind hahahaha

See you all in the next one :)

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week 2021 #momo hinamori #Toshiro Hitsugaya #i realize i have a fic trope #it's writing hitsuhina at night #idk why #but i fully admit to it #SO MUCH POTENTIAL IN LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS #haha but definitely hinting at what the next one will also be of lolol #canariie: my fics #bleach fanfiction #hitsugaya x hinamori #Hitsugaya Toushiro #hinamori momo

[16woodsequ]

Can you tell us headcannons/scenes from fic ideas you have had but have gave up on?

I do have a few ideas for fics that I either thought about writing but changed my mind, or have, but didn’t ever really plan on writing. This is mostly because the ideas are very angsty and while I like thinking about them, I think they might be super depressing to write.

Hallucinations

One idea I like playing around with is the idea that Steve started to hallucinate Bucky after he came out of the ice. I probably won’t write this fic, because I am not sure if visual hallucinations commonly work by having just one person following someone around and talking to them. I don’t know enough about having hallucinations to feel comfortable using it as a means of telling a story.

But anyway, if you remember my rant about the cabin SHIELD sends Steve to, I imagine that he started hallucinating Bucky either during or after that. Of course, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it because he would be worried about getting labelled as crazy and sent back to somewhere like the cabin or worse.

I think the hallucination of Bucky would be a personification of Steve’s own thoughts and feelings, so at times Bucky would be comforting and friendly. But other times he could be cruel and blame Steve for letting him die (because Steve blames himself,) or point out all his flaws.

Since I headcanon that Steve knows about the bugs in his apartment, he wouldn’t be able to risk talking to Bucky except when alone outside, or in the bathroom. (Which Bucky would take full advantage off.)

I don’t think he would hallucinate Bucky constantly, but Bucky would show up regularly. I think the first time Bucky showed up, Steve was doing something like cooking, and he hears Bucky’s voice saying ‘I’d like some of that’, and he responds without thinking—before his whole body freezes and he realises what has just happened.

Steve knows that hallucinations are not normal, and that he isn’t okay. But he doesn’t want to tell anyone, and part of him guiltily doesn’t want the hallucinations to stop (something that Bucky calls him out on sometimes, because again, he is basically Steve’s own thoughts, which would be hard to deal with sometimes.)

Bucky doesn’t show up while Steve is on missions, which is important because otherwise Steve would definitely be a liability. Also, it is important, because eventually Steve is going to be fighting the Winter Soldier, and the mask is going to come off, and Steve is going to get a shock of a lifetime.

I imagine that after Hill brings Steve and the others to see Fury, Steve locks himself in the bathroom for a while and rants with hallucination-Bucky, trying to figure out if what he saw was actually real. Since Steve has been hallucinating Bucky for a while, he isn’t sure if he can trust his senses. But he argues that he has never seen Bucky during a fight like that, and why would he hallucinate Bucky’s face on someone like that? He has always seen Bucky as his 40s-self, so why would he see someone with long hair and a metal arm?

(Bucky argues that Steve hasn’t eaten or slept properly for several days, and could just be crazier than usual, and if he is wrong, he could be putting everyone in danger. And, isn’t the fact that he is busy talking to himself in the bathroom alone, a sign that he isn’t really stable? The man didn’t even know who Bucky was, how can Steve claim that he is Bucky?)

In the end, Steve decides that he can’t risk not believing that the Winter Soldier is Bucky, and he decides to treat him like it is Bucky, until he is proven otherwise.

I’m not sure if the hallucinations would stop after Steve finds Bucky, and Steve may or may not finally tell Sam about his hallucinations while they are searching for Bucky.

Some more angsty stories I probably won’t write have to do with self-harm and suicidal tendencies/attempts by Steve, so I’ll put that under the cut line.

Suicidal tendencies

I do have a general headcanon that Steve was suicidal back in the 30s-40s. I imagine it was soon after his Ma died. Steve would have grown up being told he was a burden from one source or another, and he probably felt guilty that he wasn’t able to get his mother more care during her illness.

I can see him getting very depressed and listless after her death, especially if he is in-between jobs, and can’t seem to get another one. I headcanon he lived with Bucky, and Bucky would be working to try to pay the rent, and Steve would start to think it would just be better if he weren’t there taken up money and resources.

I think it would take some time before Steve actually decides that he should kill himself, but the idea would slowly grow more and more intrusive. Eventually he would convince himself that everybody would be better off if he were dead. (Especially since, with his illnesses, he has probably been told he is going to die young anyways. Might as well get is over with.)

For this, I headcanon that he planned to jump off the Brooklyn bridge. I’ve looked at pictures, and heard stories, so I think it is possible for him to do that. On the day that he planned it, he waited for Bucky to go to work, and then he put away all his things in the apartment, and wrote a note for Bucky to leave on the table. In the note, he mentions where his body will probably be found.

He goes out, and first stops by Mrs. Barnes to say goodbye to her (although she doesn’t know that.) It starts raining as he begins walking down to the Brooklyn bridge. I don’t know how far it would be from where he lived, but he wouldn’t really be concerned about the distance.

Meanwhile, Bucky happens to come home early. At first he is confused by Steve not being home, but then he sees the note on the table, and reads it with growing horror. Since Steve mentioned where he was going, Bucky dashes out of the house, hoping against hope that he isn’t too late.

It is pouring rain by now, and there is almost nobody on the bridge because of the weather. Steve is right by the railing when Bucky gets there, and he’s kind of out of it since he isn’t in a good place right now. Bucky ends up tackling him and Steve is shocked to see him.

Bucky is, of course, terrified and angry, and he yells at Steve because he is so scared. Steve just breaks down and they eventually make it home. I don’t think suicide was really talked about a lot back then, so neither of them would really know what to do, and it would probably sit between them like an elephant in the room for a while.

Eventually the tension would snap and Steve would probably yell about why he is better off dead, and Bucky would yell back how wrong he is about that. I can imagine Steve saying something like “You know I’ll be dead by thirty anyways. You know what the doctor says.”

And then Bucky grabs his shoulders desperately and just goes. “No! No. They keep sayin’ that, and you always prove them wrong. Who cares what they say? You gotta prove ‘em wrong. You’re going to live till your one hundred, ya hear? Promise me.”

And then Steve would stare wide-eyed at him, and stutter out a promise.

Steve wouldn’t try to kill himself again in the 40s, but that promise would become important after he wakes up from the ice.

When Steve wakes up in the ice, I imagine his depression hit even worse, and it was even harder for him to resist his intrusive, suicidal thoughts. And, when he wakes up from the ice, he is technically 94 years old. So he resigns himself to leaving six more years. He decides he can live six more years before he kills himself. He doesn’t know if he ages anyways, and the thought of living like this forever is horrifying, but he can do six years. He can keep his promise to Bucky and last six more years.

Of course, intrusive thoughts are very hard to resist, so I imagine Steve got close to making another attempt in the two years after he woke up, but he was either interrupted or managed to talk himself down.

And then, eventually he finds Bucky again, and that focus helps push away the thoughts for the time being.

I always imagine though, that while in Wakanda, Bucky remembers Steve trying to kill himself when they were younger, and he confronts Steve about it. That is when they are finally able to have an open conversation about what Steve felt, and what Bucky felt, and where each of them are mentally now.

Self-harm

This was a fic that I actually planned to write. I have a WIP that was going to introduce this eventually.

The idea was that after Steve woke up from the ice, he slowly began to self-harm to deal with all his anxious, repressed emotions. It would start out small—digging his nails into his fists, and arms to try to focus/calm down etc—before eventually it would evolve to cutting.

Steve is very careful to hide it, and his super healing helps. I headcanoned that he used a pocketknife that Bucky gave him during the war (one of the only things of his that he has, besides his compass). He always keeps it on him, and he develops a sort of anxious tick were he unconsciously brushes his hand over his pocket when he is feeling stressed, just to reassure himself that the knife is there if he needs it.

He knows that self-harm isn’t healthy, but he avoids thinking about it. He justifies the fact that he heals quickly, and doesn’t scar. It hardly matters, right?

I usually headcanon that Sam finds out about the self-harm while they are tracking down Bucky. Once Sam finds out, Steve does try to work on quitting, but it is a two steps forward, one step back process for him. He starts carrying around elastic bands in his gear belt so that he can use those when he has an urge.

Usually I don’t have any of the other Avengers find out—although Steve might tell Bucky once they get to Wakanda. Once Infinity War came out, I headcanoned that Steve really wanted to keep from self-harming after Sam and Bucky died, because he knew they would want him to, so he asked Natasha to hang onto his knife for him. She didn’t know why he asked that, but she could tell it was important.

When I first thought about writing this story, it appealed to me because I wanted to write a self-harm story that should the slow progression Steve’s self-harm took.

The main reason I don’t think I will write this story anymore is because it will probably be depressing for a long time. In order to do the slow-burn right, we’d have to follow Steve’s headspace for a while, so it would be a long time before he got any help. I still like this idea, but I probably won’t write it.

I hope you enjoyed those fic ideas! Hopefully it wasn’t too depressing. If you want to chat with me more about this ideas, feel free!

Headcanon masterpost

#asks #headcanons #hcs #headcanon #fanfic #fanfic ideas #fanfiction #steve rogers #angst #self-harm #hallucinations #visual hallucinations #suicide #tw suicide #tw self harm #tw depression #depression #anxiety #intrusive thoughts #suicidal tendencies #mental health #cutting #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #suicide attempt

[goose-books]

& while i am posting things today. some more maxwriting, specifically two mini-fanfictions for yves. @yvesdot​ ’s WIP the one and only universe of kay rainier (would recommend! arguments to lovers! he/him wlw! interdimensional (?) shenanigans!) one of which also features an OC i've mentioned a few times on this blog but done historically very little with.

it’s occurred to me in my moment of posting that neither of these pieces have titles. oh well.

THE FIRST ONE

you ought to send yves. some bingo prompts. anyway, i sent them kay + daemons, and then immediately realized i had ideas and thoughts about that, too. so i wrote my own version. unlike theirs, this is vaguely set in the HDM universe, which is funny because i haven’t read HDM and learned everything i know from waya vivji, a single war and peace fanfiction, and also wikipedia just before i wrote it. the notable context here is that daemons are usually the “opposite sex” of their humans, and if i got that wrong do not tell me because i am embarrassed.

Kay is a precocious child; she is twelve years old when her daemon settles. Chesire is a sleek dark mahogany, a ferruginous hawk with a wickedly curved beak and eyes that glitter like beads. He is also male. This, for the Rainiers, is not done; even the absent Ariel, despite his eccentricities, had a properly gendered daemon. It unsettles Kay in a way she will not place for many years; still, as soon as she registers her disappointment (for it must be disappointment, surely; nothing more), she’s awash in guilt.

“How lovely,” she tells him, stroking his glossy new feathers, keeping her voice low less to keep out her father and more because it is only polite. Cheshire bobs his head and flutters his wings and seems, very slightly, to preen. He must be able to sense her uncertainty, the subdued flatness to her voice, but he is a Rainier as well; the polite thing is to ignore it, and he does.

“How curious,” Father says, stroking Fauntleroy’s velvet ears.

“Not unheard of,” the dormouse says from her seat in his breast pocket. Constantine inclines his head slightly; he does not deign to offer more.

/

When the Neighborly enters the house the jackal stalks at his heel, ears pricked at attention, wet black nose gleaming, mouth crooked open in a canine grin. With it comes a distinct smell — not unpleasant so much as it is unbalancing, an earthy scent, filling the foyer as its claws click on the floor. Like his clothes, it is black, head to toe. They aren’t usually. Kay wonders if it’s coincidence, if perhaps he dyes its fur so it will match.

She thinks of it as such — it — because to be frank she is not sure what to make of Atlas, and what to assume about his daemon. During the customary introductions, Cheshire perches atop Kay’s shoulder, and Fauntleroy emerges from her pocket to whisk up to Father’s collar and cling to the fabric to study the Neighborly. He can’t stay quite still. His hands twitch at his sides. He shifts his weight. The jackal paces maddening circles around the room, eyeing the dark walls and the fine wooden furniture, too dignified to lower its head and sniff but not too good to cast judgment without speaking. Every time it passes Kay in its slow inexorable orbit, Cheshire’s claws tighten on her coat.

“It’s a pleasure, Atlas,” Constantine says stiffly, extending a hand to shake with an expression that suggests he’d rather have it removed.

Atlas shakes, grinning easily, a looseness to his motions, and then he tilts his head and says, “Anubis.” In a moment the jackal’s at his side, curling around the backs of his legs to turn its wet smile on Kay’s father. It’s too large; that’s what she decides. How does he take it anywhere? Why hasn’t it learned to behave? Unless this is his goal: to part rooms, to announce his presence as soon as he steps through the threshold.

“Anubis,” she says, the first time she and Atlas are alone. “Like the god?” Atlas and Anubis; it is the sort of half-joke she can appreciate.

Anubis looks up at its name. Atlas looks at it. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was my sister’s idea.” He looks to Cheshire, who has settled near Kay’s inkwell to reorganize her pens. “And this is…”

“Cheshire.”

“Cheshire,” Atlas repeats, piercing glinting as his eyebrow quirks.

“When I was younger, I thought he would be a cat.”

“I thought she’d be a crow. Probably better this way. Crows are poser birds.” Anubis snorts at that, a sound both doggish and human.

“She is… she, then,” Kay says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Apparently that’s weird.” Atlas leans back in Kay’s chair until the front legs leave the ground.

“Is it,” Kay says.

Atlas’s eyes flit around her face, like he knows what she’s asking; his smirk doesn’t lessen. “Well, women have male daemons, right? Ask Cheshire.”

Kay and Cheshire look at each other. Cheshire fluffs his feathers and says, “This is dull.”

Kay is less certain. She does not smile at Atlas, but some of the edge has smoothed from her voice. “I should like to watch you explain it to my father.”

“If he could take it,” Atlas says. “What’s the mouse’s fucking name again?”

Cheshire steps back and forth, feathers ruffling, until Kay sets a hand out to still him, gentle, comforting. “Fauntleroy.”

“Christ,” Atlas says. “Bless you.” When he catches Kay stiffening, he relents a little, letting the chair clatter back to the floor. “Fits the vibe, I guess.”

“As yours fits you,” says Kay, making it as uncomplimentary as she can.

“Guess my soul’s black,” Atlas says cheerily. He balls up a piece of paper and tosses it to Anubis, who, flopped across the floor, doesn’t move. “Not the weirdest thing about us.”

“Well,” Kay says, “I think it would be rather unfair for me to talk about oddities,” and she takes a small victory in the look they share: not friendship, not fondness, but something like an understanding, reached in the quiet moment before Cheshire hands her another pen and she resumes her work.

THE SECOND ONE

this one’s a bit older but i never posted it until now, at yves.’s urging! i think i was doing... camp nano last year? or something. and couldn’t think of what to write. or maybe i couldn’t focus on my project because i was thinking about my other project, the butch4butch hamlet retelling i still haven’t written. to which yves. said, “write kay x your lesbian hamlet character,” to which i said, “you don’t think i will, but i will,” and i did. so really this is yvesmax crossover fic.

It is annoying, Holden’s habit of dropping by whenever she likes. This can probably be attributed to the fact that Holden, herself, is annoying. Kay can only adjust the items on her desk (pens, mainly) so many times; she is caught up in an aggravating state of waiting but also not waiting, and she does not care for that.

Just as she thinks so, there’s a knock at the front door.

Holden doesn’t ring the doorbell anymore. She did that the first time and Kay came down the stairs a few seconds too late to find Father staring at the creature in his front hall, looking like he didn’t know whether he should be put out or concerned. “I think the earrings got him,” Holden said later, on Kay’s bed, tapping the crosses hanging inverted from her ears. Kay’s opinion was that it was all of her, from the messy post-buzz hair to the propensity for suits to the Doc Martens to the way Holden leans on any available surface.

She opens the door and Holden is leaning against the doorframe. Which looks a little more awkward coupled with whatever she’s carrying under her arm.

“Hi,” she says.

Kay blinks slowly.

“It is late,” she says, spinning on her heel and heading for the stairs. Behind her, she hears the quiet click of Holden closing the door. The grandfather clock in the front hall is ticking toward eleven.

“I never get over how weird this place is.” When she glances back, Holden is peering into the nearest glass cabinet. “Like a little dollhouse.”

“Thank you,” Kay says stiffly. She cannot decide whether she is irritable.

“And this is coming from someone whose parents were devoted to taxidermy.” Holden follows her up the stairs, hands shoved into the pockets of her suit jacket, looking entirely too comfortable here, and Kay decides that she is irritable after all.

“I do not know what you suppose your business is here,” she says. “Especially as it is almost an hour past ten.”

Holden shrugs.

“Do not shrug at me.”

Holden opens her mouth as if to speak, then casts a glance behind her. There’s no one in the darkened hallway; Father is in his office. Still, Holden waits for Kay to shut her bedroom door.

“I know I’m late,” she says, slouching back against it. “Sorry. I lost track of time in the bookstore.”

Kay blinks. “You are late to see me because you went to the bookstore,” she intones.

She says nothing as Holden withdraws the books from under her arm and extends them. “I really wanted to find Carmilla for you,” she says. “Like, the oldest print version I could find.”

It certainly looks old. Kay purses her lips. “I own Carmilla.”

“I know. But, like… it’s vintage.” Holden attempts one-handed jazz hands. “I have a sentence in my notes app from six months ago that just says carmilla but like the old edition.” She shuffles the stack of books. “And then I sat down for — look, I swear I was trying to be timely about it. Trying to be punctual.” She pops the P. “But time isn’t real and I read two chapters of Pride and Prejudice and I don’t know if you own that but it feels like the kind of thing you’d find sexy.” Her smile glitters. “And then — I know The Catcher in the Rye isn’t your thing. But I wrote in this one, so.”

Kay reaches out, very carefully, to take the books. She does own Pride and Prejudice, actually, but she still feels a pang. She flips through The Catcher in the Rye and is met with scrawls of black-ink handwriting, filling up the margins and underlining passages.

“Thank you,” she says, very softly, and moves to set the books on her desk. “You didn’t have to… get me anything.”

“I like knowing that my parents’ money is fueling homosexual agendas,” Holden says pleasantly. When Kay turns around, Holden catches her hand and steps in closer, showing her teeth in a smile. “But I’ll try to be on time from now on.”

“As you should,” Kay says, pulling Holden a few inches closer.

Holden raises a hand to caress Kay’s cheek. “That said,” she says in a low voice, “now that I’ve — what did you say. Now that I’ve fulfilled my business here, I can think of a few things we could do. Unless it’s too late.”

Against her will, Kay smiles.

“I suppose we can extend your stay a little longer,” she says, and their lips meet.

#max.txt #max actually writes #yves tag #love h tag #holden hemlock #apparently i only write kaypov. i'll admit atlas's pov intimidates me a little bit. #but i do maintain my choice of holden/kay versus holden/atlas because holden and atlas are like... the same. doubles #well not really doubles but like... i think the furthest they would get would be holden asking atlas to swap clothing items. #in a nonsexual very literal way. #anyway! enjoy.

[moonflower-rose]

For your boredom asks! Do you fancy talking about your fic writing and reading habits? How do you decide what to write? What's your favourite thing about fandom? Do you plan or are you a pantser? What's your favourite fic? When did you start writing? (Just throwing these out there btw, feel free to ignore any or all!)

Firstly, thank you, omg. I needed something to focus on so much! This got loooooong. You are brilliant, thank you so much for asking.

I started writing in 2004 in terms of putting fic out there online, but I used to write RPF in high school about people in my year, lol, and there were dramatic readings held on the bus on the way home. Man, those were funny, I remember one of them was about two friends of mine who had very poorly disguised crushes on each other (no clue why they didn’t just get together) and the story was about one of them visiting the other one and they start to shag, and do so with such vigour that the floor collapses beneath them and their bed ends up in the living room downstairs. This one was extremely popular with the bus crowd, circa 1998. Looking back I think I’ve always used a fair amount of humour in my fic!

I’m not a good planner, I would LOVE to be a planner. I have a lot of ideas like literally all the time, and I keep track of them all using Trello, but I very rarely do any sort of genuine planning. I generally have a really persistent idea or scene that won’t leave me alone until I start writing it, and then wing it from there and hope my muse doesn’t abandon me in the middle. It causes all sorts of problem with writing myself into a corner or having to go back and re-read a million times to remind myself of plot details from the beginning. I think that’s why I don’t have more finished work or anything long - lack of planning!

As far as how I decide what to write, the ideas kind of decide for me because it either starts flooding out of me uncontrollably or its little sluggish trickles. The floods are so much more fun because my motivation is high, it feels great to be smashing out words, that makes more ideas flow, it’s like a huge buzz. The other kind is so painful, lol, like I desperately want to write the thing but the fact that it’s so difficult makes me want to lie down and sleep. Writing for fests is a lot easier, because there’s a deadline I have no control over that forces me to buckle down, and there’s a prompt to focus on which means I can’t procrastinate over my own ideas. I don’t know if that makes sense. It’s the structure I guess that helps me be productive. I have something like 20 WIPs of my own ideas because I lose focus, lol, but I’m determined to finish them all one day.

My fave thing about fandom is that other people have the same hyperfixation/s I do, and that we can lose our minds about them together. I have tried to talk to a couple of RL friends about fanfic and when I’ve had a successful (in my estimation!) piece, but they don’t get it, lol. Like, once someone bookmarked one of my fics and said something like it made them feel like their heart had been microwaved, and I loved that SO MUCH, and I told my work BFF who just looked confused. The pure joy of frantically exchanging DMs about something you’re obsessed with, to someone who is equally obsessed, ugh, such joy.

Fic reading habits - in the early days, I would read every new thing in whatever fandom I was in, literally every single one. But since my long fandom break (2012 to about 2017), it’s been more accidentally stumbling over things, or recs from people I’m following. Normally I start following people because of THEIR fic, so 99% of the time if they love something, I’m going to really enjoy it too. As soon as I find a fic I enjoy, I then read everything that author has written in a huge binge. I also tend check out their bookmarks as well. I find it very hard to stop when I’ve started, I will 100% start a 100K fic at midnight on a Monday with no sense of self preservation, and on occasion I have made excuses for RL activities so I can stay home and start/finish a fic, lol.

I truly could not pick a favourite fic, there are too many. I try to bookmark everything on AO3 because so many wonderful fics were lost on LJ with account deletions, and old archives going offline over the years. I can re-read Far From The Tree by aideomai a million times, and Only A Kiss by @writcraft breaks me into lil teeny pieces every time. Gosh there are just so many good things out there. Now I’m probably going to re-read Only A Kiss again, lol, whoops.

#rosie answers #my asks

[writingonesdreams]

#100daysofwriting

Event by @the-wip-project

What ideas came to you recently from daydreaming?

A whole story totally made of hurt/comfort scenes but with emotional arcs

It isn't related to Stormkeeper's newest plot version, but it has the core trio plus an old-new character getting a focus (Jonah)

heavily inspired by the current Megalo Box 2. Though Joe has been a major inspo for years

Maybe I should treat it as it's own project. People jumpy from wip to wip here all the time, instead of re-imagining and re-plotting the whole other idea and destroying it in the process

Maybe I should start training to write these scenes in snippets and sew them into a whole later. Like not forcing them into a story and leave it a free flow

Something of a plot around a tournament. And the magic types worming their way in

Magic just hurts a lot. The ideas keep coming

No villians. Ahh if I could just pull of the characters being mean, hurtful, human, redeemable and no one really being bad, just real clumsy in doing the right thing for others and themselves. Did anyone notice how much every writing advice and plot structure centres around bad guys/villains? No wonder a plot without it looks like a revolution

Watched Wish dragon movie yesterday with my brother and gotta say, it's a great example of main character with a flat arc. No less interesting for it, because the MC knows money isn't everything (the story's central truth) but he struggles against the world and all the characters that pressure him against it. He stumbles, occasionally hesitates, doubts himself and the lowest point comes when he succumbs to the lie ridden world and gets a pep talk from the change arc character he was influencing the whole time.

The story plays with themes like pride, machismo, vulnerability and self-worth

Kyler and Wes being full on estranged brothers this time, with Kyler hiding from things he needs even when at a breaking point, Wes stuck in a rebellious ignorant wounded circle and Jonah being the spark to set them both on the right track again.

Playing with these trio's dynamics is really fun. Wes seeing Jonah will show him what growing up and being a partner instead or the younger pampered protected one means and he really needs that

Kyler just wants to take care of people. He might have developed that tendency while caring for Wes, but it's not limited to him anymore.

Jonah never had anybody care or believe in him. I'm still working out his arc, but his inner insecurity engraved quite deep.

Just want these three to save each other in various ways.

Acacia is probably the only sane person, there to say out loud what nobody wants to hear

This picrew is so true to my daydreamed images I can't stop looking at it

Wes - Jonah - Kyler

I have been thinking of changing their names for the story, something like

Lukas/Julian/Kayden or

Andrew/Jacob/Kieran or even

Andrej/Jakub/Roman

But what's the point when their personalities and emotional arcs are so similar?

This would be so much easier if it was fanfiction. No wonder about AUs and playing with the same characters there. When an author uses the same original characters, it just looks like she has no imagination to make up new ones

On the other hand lots of authors just write the same story over and over with different characters and settings, it just isn't as obvious

#writeblr #100daysofwriting #100daysofquestions #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #my writing #my ocs #my wips #writing update #megalo box #wish dragon #on writing #flat character arcs #hurt/comfort #brothers #wip: summer storms