#Not updating the original fic mind you I have no idea how I'm going to connect that to the main game's events

[mydnite-the-space-wolpertinger]

I kinda wanted to make webcomics originally but I think that even though I can write and I can draw I don't really have the motivation to make a comic(or even an idea on where the fuck to begin)

But you know what I do have the motivation for? Writing. Aparently. Just open a word document and type. Make a little narrative.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

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summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[wyked-ao3]

Wyked's intro

Hey, I'm wyked (wicked) been on Tumblr a while now and finally got around to my intro

About me:↪ Wyked, she/her/psycho

↪ writer questionnaire here and here and another one here

↪ I'm 23

↪ Reader, writer, nerd,

↪Alpha/Beta reader, idea bouncer. (Send a pm if your looking for an extra set of eyes, just tell me what your looking for. I can be brutally honest if that's what you're looking for but I'm still listing my favorite parts regardless.)

↪ Introvert trying to step out of my shell some.

↪infj or intj the multiple test tends to balance it so I'm not sure but I usually relate more to the infj.

↪Taurus born

↪I'm most likely dyslexic (teachers agreed, but didn't get a official diagnosis) so sorry in advance for the typos and lack of proper punctuation (punctuation is my nemesis but I do try in my writing to get it correct)

↪I write mostly fanfiction multi fandom

↪ I'm currently writing my first original work. TPKODR of TPCG series

The pirate king of deaths redemption

The pirate's cursed god series

you can find my work here

↪I have a discord group for ao3 fanfiction writer's and we have a few members doing original works as well, you can find it here

Additional information that will update frequently probably

↪My current game fandom's

Zelda (it's more link than Zelda but whatever lol) I have played (wind waker , orca of time, twilight princess, and a little of skyward sword)

Elder scrolls (Skyrim is my favorite)

Devil may cry 2-3

Red steel

Assassin's creed (can't wait for the new one…although I'm still not sure about upgrading from the PS3 lol)

↪My movie/series fandoms

Merlin, Twilight, Supernatural, Lucifer, Grimm,Once upon a time, Stargate (all), Primeval, Criminal minds, NCIS, Star trek, Harry Potter, Hannibal, Marvel, Harley Quinn, Shadow hunters, Arrow, How to train your dragons (all), Troll hunters (they ripped my heart out) Avatar the last Airbender, Avatar (blue), Jurassic world, Jurassic park, Dragon prince, The last of us?(Not the biggest fan of it but I do read the fic's and wrote for ot occasionally, Lost, Charmed (original), Originals (didn't finish it….I'm a softie okay), and to be honest I'm forgetting some… may edit as I remember or hit a phase where they are my favorite show again….

↪Anime fandom's…..some I'm only in due to my sister but it still counts…..

Black Butler

Heavens official blessing

Skum villain D

emon king academy

Welcome to demon school iruma (I love this)

Fairytail

↪My Never seen but I could probably convince you otherwise do to my sister's rambling list that will update as I remember names

Inuyasha

↪My interest

Herbs,plants,trees, mushrooms, nature (I can keep going) animals,fish,corals and aquatic plants, invertebrates, mythology, pirates, knights, druids,shamans, hanfu, feudal era, history involving any of the above.. writing, gardening, wood carving and burning, sketching although I think you get more detail with wood burning……I can keep listing but most of that will not be covered here so I will stop now but feel free to drop in my inbox to chat

I will add more eventually here

↪My mutuals original story recommendation list

My favorite western, time loop horror romance by @tragedycoded I can not recommend this enough it got me hooked on a western.

If you like gay pirates, kidnapping, drama and found family that will keep you on your toes then check out @the-golden-comet 's story (read the warning)

↪My mutuals fanfiction recommendation list (it will change as I think of some I added the recommendations last minute so oops)

If you are into sarcastic lovable OC's and mandalorians from star wars check out @lillybaaaka 's work

she also has a fem Harry Potter/startrek crossover that I'm in love with lol highly recommend it, it's more startrek then Harry Potter

if you are into the bat family you should check out @gods-graveyard 's work

if you like bananafish fanfiction then check out @gioiaalbanoart she has several amazing ones but my favorite so far is this one

if you are a Zelda fan who ships Ganon and Link then I highly recommend you check out @the-golden-comet just make sure to read the warnings

[huurrefanfictionreadinglog]

Fanfiction Reading Log

I did Fanfiction Reading Log to Google Sheets with really cool and neatly looking statistics and I thought it would be nice to share to everybody.

The list of updates and links to the update info post are in the end of this post.

Please mind that I'm still in the middle of testing it and I've found one bug I don't know how to fix it and I'm going to update as I find some mistakes, so you might be better to save also the link to the original file (it can be also found from Instructions sheet). I'm not professional with Excel/Google Sheets so all the feedback will be taken with huge thanks and I will do my best to fix every problem you might have, but just a warning: I have full time job, full time school and everything else going on in my life (for example huge fanfic I'm writing), so it might not be fast.

This is mostly for AO3 fanfics, but of course you can put there anything you want! I did this, because I have all the time time over 200 tabs open in my phone's browser and I'm still always trying to find something new to read, because "I don't have anything on my TBR". So yeah, here you go & if you have any ideas you would want to add there, you can also let me know that so I can think of it! :)

Update on March 12th: This is starting to look pretty good and I am going to update changes here, so please follow along if you want to know about updates. I'm trying to figure out some easy ways to keep people updated if they want to get some kind of notification when I've published new update.

Updates

Version 1.2 (March 12th, 2024) read more

[catcas22]

Hi! Happy to know that you (particularly you! 😊) will keep working on your fics as if that DLC twist didn't happen (saw your reblog). the Unalloyed, still one of my favs. And now I think I'll finally start Prince of Death too, as a form of therapy ❤️ Thought to do this earlier, really, it's just that it's big, and I'm a bad slow reader, can't find time... But I'm always watching your updates, they get me interested. Always happy to see you on my dash

Actually wanted to reach out to you yesterday. I think we, those who like Miquella and have our own headcanons, fix AUs, should stick together 😊 For now, I myself don't know what to do with all this new lore... There are some new cool additions to the world, but... you know, yeah.

Hi! I hope you enjoy Prince of Death when you get around to it (I know it's a doorstopper lol).

Yeah, I'm happy to stick with my headcanon version of Miquella. The DLC certainly has some interesting editions (particularly regarding Marika's history) but I hate what they did with Miquella and Radahn.

Disclaimer: I haven't played the DLC yet, I'm going off of Fextralife and my mutuals. So if I get something wrong, sorry in advance.

The sad thing is that I think the DLC concept of Miquella could have worked. In fact, it could have been amazing. The idea of Miquella trying to ascend to godhood by sacrificing pieces of himself rather than sacrificing others, only to lose so much of himself that he forgets the compassion that originally motivated him, could have been beautifully tragic and fitting for his character.

Don't get me wrong, that's not how I hoped Miquella's story would end. But this is Fromsoft we're talking about. I don't want Lady Maria to make every possible wrong decision until the guilt consumes her, then die (twice) in service to a lie. I don't want Artorias to die alone and consumed by madness, only able to be put down like a rabid dog. I don't want Lothric to be executed and dragged to the Kiln despite his brother's best efforts to save him. I don't want Vyke to fall to Frenzy because he refused to sacrifice his companion. But all of these ends feel narratively satisfying. The tragedy feels earned, beautiful in a way rather than pointless.

The broad concept of Miquella's arc could have been a classic Fromsoft tragedy. But instead it ends up feeling... deeply stupid, once you look into the details. From what I understand, the entire thing could have been resolved by Malenia and Radahn engaging in single combat at an agreed-upon spot. If Radahn was the one insisting on a match, why did Malenia march her armies across an entire continent of hostile territory? Why involve two armies-worth of collateral damage? If Radahn needed to die to reach the Land of Shadows, why the everliving fuck did Malenia hit him with the one thing that would ensure he lived on for centuries in undying agony? Why did Miquella leave Malenia and the Haligtree to literally rot (before he cast aside his love, mind you) when presumably the whole point of his ascension was to save them? If Miquella was the one manipulating Mohg, why didn't he manipulate Mohg into doing the blood-ministration thing at his cocoon at the Haligtree instead of staging a fake kidnapping?

So in short, yes, I will be sticking with my interpretation Miquella 😊

Glad to have you and plenty of other friends on board!

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Helloo! I wanted to say that I loved second chances sm, when I found a random chapter last year I read the entire fic in a couple days bc I had to know what happened next, then reread it every now and then while waiting for the updates

I like how we can see both sides of the coin with shadowpeach, how they both care but are still struggling for different yet similar reasons, their struggle with what they went through, dealing with each other's personality traits and habits(their own too) that are still hard to let go of, the glimpses of the consequences of the punishments and their backstory in general

And maybe it's a me thing, but I feel like your Wukong acts like he's a bit aro spec, maybe demi aromantic, and I love that he does, especially while still explicitly loving(and like longing for?) Mac sm

I got that feeling after rereading one of the conversations shadowpeach had in the kitchen when Wukong said something about just wanting to be near Mac, and having him as his best friend was so great kinda like there couldn't possibly be anything better

I know it's probably to show how he grew up, or his personality, and that he's dense (specifically when it comes to reading Mac's feelings towards him) but I feel that just adds to the similarities with the aro experience bc there's a side of the aro community that is blind to more romantic stuff, and romantic-coded gestures or more intimate closeness is just closeness all the same

And your Wukong gives me the impression that he just wanted Mac to be close to him, didn't matter what kind of close, and that he holds the title of "best friend" as a really special thing. Be it BECAUSE of Mac, or maybe since before becoming friends with him, like not just anybody would be his best friend (Also it was maybe to show his trust issues, but still)

I think Wukong said somewhere that he just wanted Mac to be happy to be around him, as happy as SWK was to be around Mac. And I know his inability to put his feelings(love) into words more than referring to a strong or special friendship is probably to show that he's not good with Feelings™, but I like to think that maybe he is enamored in the way a queer platonic love would feel like, so calling it a strong or special friendship kinda does cut it to some degree I think

Also the way Mei (everyone really, but she's more expressive about it, and we see her more than other characters) sees Wukong as a hopeless case, but I think Wukong would see Mac loving him strongly in any way as the best thing ever, as long as it's strong love, he wouldn't mind, love is love, like he just wants to be as special to Mac as Mac is to him

Also I'd love to see them be together even if they don't have the same kind of love for each other, bc the love they have for each other would still be just as strong, and would let them have just as strong of a bond, (in the future, as things are going I have hope, I do hope they end up together in this universe, even if nothing of what I'm saying fits them by the end)

I mean no disrespect to your original idea, or if that's not what u intended, I tried looking through your blog and I haven't found any mention of something similar or headcanons about it

But yeah, idk if u mind ppl putting headcanons on your stories? Some ppl do mind, so idk I just wanted to say that regardless of that hc of mine, I think how you write them is so cool and interesting, and I find that about Wukong really cool even if it's not really where the story is heading and it's been really fun to reread

Also sorry for the weird english, it's not my first language ^^'

First things first:

Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

I absolutely love in depth analysis like this it's so interesting to read and to hear what people think of my story. I 100% love writing this story specifically because it demonstrates how these two are completely different and yet eerily similar people who are just struggling to reconnect with other people despite them both having their flaws and traumatic experiences. It's really fun to write and explore and I absolutely love everything that you said here about it~

Duuude!! I fuckin looooveeee that headcanon! Holy shit that's so awesome! Honestly, I didn't even realize I was writing Wukong that way but now that it's been pointed out I can totally see it!

As someone who is kind of on the ace spectrum, I think I may have just subconsciously made it that way. Just like every other author I know, I have a habit of adding my own traumas/ideologies to my stories so I really shouldn't be too surprised LOL

But don't worry! I don't mind people making headcanons about my story~ In fact, that's my favorite part of writing is seeing how people interpret the story and seeing how they formulate it into drawings or headcanons like this! It's so cool!

Initially, my intention was to write Wukong as being oblivious/in denial about his own feelings and in general just bad with feelings. However, I really love your idea too! It's definitely one of those things where Wukong is just happy to be around Macaque. Macaque is "his person", the one he feels happy and comfortable around, the one he feels he can be open and honest around... and yeah I just realized how much that sounds like the beginnings of a queer platonic relationship LMAO

In any case!

I absolutely love your analysis and I 100% agree that Wukong would be okay with Macaque loving him in any way, shape, or form so long as Macaque feels as safe and comfortable and happy as Wukong himself feels when they're together. ❤❤

Thank you for reading!

[cursedvibes]

Fic Writer Q & A!

Tagged by @voxofthevoid Thank you 🤗

How many wips do you have currently?

In terms of stuff I'm more or less actively working on with a proper concept (not just vague ideas) and what I plan to finish: 9

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

The final chapter of Stitches Across The Eye 😖 I recently got a comment asking when I'm gonna post it, since the last update was over a year ago...well... It's just that canon has thrown me for a loop with the new Jin lore and also TenKen and Pinchan are hogging my attention lately. It has kind of messed with what I had originally in mind for the end of that fic. I will get around to it eventually though and if it's the last thing I ever do!!

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

I write 5-10k in one sitting until my brain is mush and I can't form a single coherent thought anymore. Otherwise, if I have an idea for a scene, dialogue or general theme while lying in bed at night, I write it down as detailed as possible on my phone in whatever WIP document it fits. Thankfully Google Docs exists as an app too 🙏

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

I have a playlist for Stitches, but I don't use it anymore. I prefer to listen to ambient-ish music to get into and keep myself in the mood I need for a certain fic. I have a whole YouTube playlist with 1h+ ambient compilations and whatever feels right for the fic or scene will play on repeat while I write. For example:

This is what I listened to a lot for my Pinchan fics

works well for TenKen fics

Chance Encounter

And the Official Prison Realm Lofi often fits as well like for example for Stitches

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

I used to go balls to the wall. I did plan my fics, what would happen when, but I would only do that in my head and then write the fic from start to finish like I imagined it. No jumping around and only writing down what has been mostly solidified (excluding edits of course). Recently, I've gone to writing outlines in my docs first and then start writing, while deleting the passages in my notes I already finished. It has the advantage that I don't have to remember as much, I can add spontaneous ideas into my outline and don't have to hope I remember them when I get to that point in the fic and I write much faster when I have the bullet points further down as a reference. It's especially helpful for phrasing. And it's a nice feeling to see the bullet points slowly shrink, which makes it easier to finish WIPs even if I'm stuck at one scene. Has resulted in me getting more WIPs and jumping around between them more though.

Tagging (if you want): @hxhhasmysoul @kaitakushi @yukisdomain

[cheesus-doodles]

Hello again! How are you? I'm the anonymous person who previously asked about the "boss". When reading your response about her personality in the "red dragonflies au", I realized it was me who had asked the same question back in 2022, recognized by the heart character I usually use haha, I didn't even remember that.

To be more recognizable, I'll use a more specific emoji this time.

This isn't a writing request, but I'd like to know about your creative process when writing. Usually, I focus more on my ideas after having a cup of coffee and meditating with white noise. My mind organizes better, and I avoid making too many mistakes.

I can say that your profile is one of my havens in the tokyo revengers community. Your writing and character inspired me to pick up an old project I started weeks after reading a few chapters of the manga, back when my only concerns were school exams, haha.

— 🥀.

was thinking between posting this now and next week, but I suppose it doesn't quite make a difference! will be back working on some longer fics but i'll make sure there's no drought next week

Masterlist

‎‎‎

Hello again 🥀 anon! well I have to say its great to see you around, and to have a recognisable emoji! :D I'm super thankful that you decided to stick around here all this time, best of luck with that project (and if you don't mind, I would love to see it whenever you're done!)

Ahh I do kinda miss school a little - the transition to work life is still pretty jarring ngl ;-; I still hate it time to time but what can we do amrite HAHAHAHA

‎

In terms of my creative process, I had a think about it because I was originally going to say that I didn't have any fixed process, but then I realised that the one constant time that I would get some writing done would be usually late nights/early mornings right before bed time. Mostly because I work full time and there are chores and stuff to do around the house after work, but also because I've always been a night owl and I find writing a good way to burn off whatever energy I have left before bedtime. Plus usually I get a bit more loose and fluid when I'm tired (its pretty strange ngl - the logic is just too strong for yanderes to make sense when I'm fully awake).

I also love to watch/listen to news updates/documentaries/financial stuff while I write? Or if I'm overstimulated I listen to music! I did try watching some cafe asmr while writing previously but I get too distracted watching the video to write so that didn't work out HAHAHAHA

But writing when I'm tired generally has an adverse effect on the sentence structure/grammar/generally story flow, so I will use my awake brain to string together what my tired brain wrote the previous night. From time to time at least, other times I'm just too impatient and just fuck it and post it.

‎‎

Inspiration also tends to hit me here and there, so I will occasionally write down ideas and sentences at work if I have free time, or while I'm out and about on weekends - just pop open Tumblr/Google Docs and jot it down before I forget! Might be that I was mulling over the prompt/idea and I see/hear/think something that hits just right!

Yea but that's how I usually go about it! As chaotic as it sounds ngl, but it works I suppose :))

Would love to hear more about your idea flow/creative process if you would like to share! Like where you get your ideas and inspiration, character personalities, or anything else you want to talk about :)

[thickenmyblood]

I don't know how to thank you. This feels like the end of an era. I can't believe it's been 4yrs since you started posting hiuh and I was instantly hooked. It literally got me through the pandemic. I learned so much from the story and felt I had Neo as a therapist(the best in the world). You must be flooded with asks now but I am really curious how the story formed in your head. It's hard to believe how consistent the story is as you posted chapter by chapter. Did you outline the whole story when you started? did you stick to all the original ideas? if you changed your mind what were they? It really is a master piece - much much better than many published books I read and I hope you will publish someday, if that's what you want.

I'd also offer you my first born to have an epilogue. hopefully lamen with their child(ren) playing on the beach and Nicaise being the doting big brother. they all grew so much and deserve all the happiness. oh and Kastor and Jo and Galen for big family gathering. I'm so proud of all of them.

thank you thank you thank you for all your patience and genius and mostly, generosity.

hello!!!! i'm so happy that my story resonated with you and got you through some tough times. it did the same for me!

It's hard to believe how consistent the story is as you posted chapter by chapter.

thank you!! it will never be as good as it was in my head or as good as I know I could have made it if I had spent more time on it, but for me the most important thing is that it is completed and at least 70% of what I wanted it to be. a win is a win!!!

Did you outline the whole story when you started? did you stick to all the original ideas? if you changed your mind what were they?

i got the idea for a modern au break up fic in 2020 while I was writing and posting wtsioa. i started the story as a 20k one shot and then realized 5k into it or less that it was not going to fit into that word count. the reason was very simple: i did not want a break up fic centered around "miscommunication" in a naive, fluffy way. i did not want to write a fic where the main issue was that one loved the other too much or that they thought the other was cheating when it wasn't true, etc. i wanted to write a break up that felt honest to me, and this meant giving them both issues that felt real, that i saw in myself and in the people around me irl. which meant that it would take them both considerably more than 5k to get over them (if they ever did).

i outlined the fic very roughly. my first drafts . . . they are not it, girl. like, anyone that has read wtsioa knows that. I'm a much better editor than I am a writer, so for hiuh i outlined the main beats (nicaise calls damen after months, damen goes to therapy, nicaise is out of control and some incidents happen, laurent is dating maxime, they get back together). then, i wrote the entire thing in . . . a year? maybe less? then, i made a mistake and got cocky: i edited the first three chapters and started posting on ao3. that's why the fic took so long to post. i had to edit each chapter a lot after the first three were released.

i edited out too many things to count. things you wouldn't believe if I told you now because they make no sense when looking at the finished version. idalia was a pretty big character, and so was jokaste. in the og outline, I debated between claude/heavy drugs for nicaise. i almost named dog NIKANDROS!!!! damen actually punched aktis at the party when he talks shit about laurent . . . which led to him also punching nik. laurent slapping nicaise once. aimeric and damen baking together. then, there were things I wanted to write but couldn't because they didn't feel very real to me, despite being the best self indulgent daydream scenarios ever: damen hunting claude down (yeah, ruth wanted this to happen), dog getting sick, aimeric's EVERYTHING lol, nik and nicaise talking, etc.

thank you for sending this ask and reading the story through all the ups and downs and... lack of updates on my end!!! it has been the best experience ever, knowing that someone out there is reading and cares about what I made. thank you!!!!!!!!

[sassybluee]

fic author self rec

I was tagged by @uhhhhmanda! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

THANKS FOR THE TAG! Here we go! In no particular order...

tears in the rain (rated e, 30k) My Blade Runner x CLJ au. This is such a specific au, which I think is part of why I love it. I just had to mash two of my fave things together. It was like I was possessed. Who doesn't love that feeling!

don't leave me waiting, don't leave me here (rated m, 14k) This was one of my early MDZS fic ideas, but I didn't have the tools to write it yet. It took a lot of work over the years to get it to a point where I felt I'd reached the finish line. I'd set it aside so many times. But I'm really proud with how it came out. It turned out better than I could've imagined!

Hide Away (rated e, 19k) My wangxian Love Island AU! Another fic that took years to come into fruition. Once again, just really happy I let it cook in the back of my mind and waited for it to be the right time to finish it. Some of these tropes are ones I don't necessarily like reading, but writing them myself made me appreciate them more.

to save you, to ruin you (rated e, 9k) This wangxian canon divergence (CQL universe) fic wasn't my first attempt at smut, but it was the first smut fic I felt actually confident about. I also feel like it was a big turning point for me and my writing style. While I enjoy the spinoff series I wrote, sometimes I wish I'd kept it just a oneshot. There's beauty in the unknown. But I'm fond of the series too.

An Orchid of the Moon (rated e, WIP, 100k+) The CLJ fic that keeps on giving! This fic is important to me because it was the first where I really interacted with a canon. My other fics were either AUs, or canon divergents so divergent they're basically a new universe. But this fic, I really sought to stay true to the original storyline and really play with the lore without fear. While I know I've made some mistakes here and there when it comes to accuracy, ultimately I'm really happy with it and I always enjoy writing the updates. It's also just a fic where I decided to include everything I like (for the most part).

tagging: @wrecklwj @isabilightwood @iamwestiec @wingsofbadass @timetoboldlygo and anyone else who wants to participate!

[amywritesthings]

hi there! I want to start off on congratulating you for the success on P4. needless to say that it was very well received by the levi community.

that being said, I have some thoughts I wanted to ask about. was the ending to P4 the ending you originally had in mind or did it flow to you while you were writing the series (hopefully that makes sense lol)?

I speak for many of us when I say that I’d love to see a sequel. there are so many questions left unanswered. does the chemistry between reader and levi translate irl? does reader tell annie about levi and how does she react? does levi meet porco? ugh so many thoughts, so many possibilities

whether or not you decide on writing a sequel, I want to say that this my favorite levi series by far. I’ve never stopped thinking about this fic since I read the first part 🫶

Helloooo! Thank you so much for the thoughtful message, this means a lot. 🌸 The ending of P4 that you read is, in fact, the ending I wrote in my outline prior to posting part one.

For me, I struggle with finales. It took nearly nine months for me to even remotely entertain an ending for my longfic, SU. My goal with P4 (I actually wrote the idea a year go? i think?) was to have a definitive amount of chapters so I wouldn't just go onnn and onnn and onnn with a story. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and I know several people have already said they're upset Levi/Scarlet didn't actually hook up, but I think tackling the idea of navigating something parasocial to something real deserves a multitude of chapters in and of itself. It's a nuance I didn't want to sacrifice for the mysticism of this Sleepless in Seattle-esque story, so I chose to end it there as intended and stay true to my outline.

I'll be candid: I did not anticipate the response this story got. I literally wrote this story for @sixpennydame and @nube55 after the two of them were so encouraging and excited about the idea.

I don't mind sharing my bulletpoints, actually, if you'd interested in them under the cut - it's the same ending, but I changed a lot around re: order and how we got to the final dialogue.

(A lot changes between two months + actually sitting down to write a story and that's why i love writing as i update, because i can get influenced on the dime to change a dynamic/dialogue choice/etc. If this helps anyone see how I initially outline, then I'm happy to do so!)

i also talk to myself in the outlines, so. witness my insanity lmao.

[becauseanders]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

ahhh hi thank you! (finally answering this!) 🖤

It Took the Night to Believe: chapterfic, complete, 100k. dragon age ii, anders/male hawke. pacific rim au. i am honestly really fucking proud of this fic, like i thought it was great even though it didn't do super well kudos-wise and i did notice that i definitely did lose readers as it went on. i truly have no idea why, this fic is fucking great. it's got angst, it's got comfort, it's got near death experiences, it's got fluff, it's got kaiju—what's not to love??

No Wound as Sharp as the Will of God: chapterfic, complete, 99k. dragon age ii, anders/female hawke. canonverse, post-da2. it took me seven years to post a second chapter of this and a total of eight years to finish it, and the whole time i was writing it after i picked it up again i was so unsure of it, but turns out i really like it. very heavy content, please do mind the tags. takes place while hawke is with the inquisition. anders positive, justice positive. a very intense, very deep, very affectionate friendship between anders and fenris is an extremely important part of the story. like, seriously, the platonic fenders is just as important as the romantic handers. a lot of angst, like so much angst, but the hurt/comfort is real. the b-plot pertains to my theory that justice cures anders of the taint. cole is there. the emotions are high and you can feel them strongly in the writing. again, be careful, but this is a good fic.

A Thing With Feathers Now, Elevate: one shot, 11k. dragon age: origins, alistair/female amell. canonverse, takes place over the course of da:o. this fic is a fucking masterpiece. another that didn't do well numbers-wise but this is easily one of the absolute best things i've ever written and is quite possibly one of the best fics on ao3. i am so fucking proud of this one. the prose, the metaphors, the handling of trauma, the found family—this one deserved way more love than it got. like, i'm serious, this fic is amazing.

It Means Tumult: chapterfic, wip, 349k (yes, you read that right). dragon age ii, anders/female hawke. modern au. okay, obviously i've got to mention this one. i have been working on this fic for eight years and i am very sorry to everyone who saw this go from updating multiple times a week and asking me how the fuck i write so fast to three years without a single update and then i think only one more in the past two years. i'm working on the penultimate chapter, i swear i am, i'm just super stuck right now. this fic is…this fic. i'm not going to lie, i don't really know if this is any longer some of my better writing, but the premise is fucking solid and i have been told more than once that it's clear this is a labor of love and that this is endearing. au where the obvious metaphors are made reality: the circles are psychiatric institutions and being mentally ill is a crime. a lot of angst, but a lot of love. pay no mind to how much better of a character and person aveline is when i write her. i also do admittedly use this fic to deal with my own demons frequently. an andrea gibson poem helped me write one chapter and i later got to tell them about it and they hugged me. this is also very heavily centered on music and has a lengthy soundtrack. please ignore the fact that when i first started writing this i used british english when i typed because i thought it looked better, as i had started doing as a teenager, which tbh i still kind of do but i also realized that's just fucking pretentious to do when you're american, and it was already so long by the time i stopped doing it that there was no way in hell i was going back to editing all of that (as i actually did do with nwasatwog). so that's just the way it is. but yeah, there's a lot of feelings happening here. also the only fic on this list that has an original title instead of song lyrics despite being the one with the most music involved, lol.

Through the Fall and the Feel: chapterfic, wip, 52k. dragon age ii, anders/male hawke. modern au. this is the one i'm working on most right because that's just where the brainworms are. hawke is a teddy bear doctor and anders goes to see him because instead of a pillow from his mother he has a stuffed cat, and she has seen much better days. this fic has a very wholesome premise but has gone into some pretty heavy angst already and i did not mean for eating disorders to be as important to the story as they have become, so be mindful of that. but this fic has a lot of heart and it's absolutely tanking, so if this piques your interest maybe go give it a look? this is also my second foray into m!handers and i am again having fun writing them. but yeah, i actually like this fic a lot and i do recommend it.

[unkipt]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day! I have a few questions about the World Falling series for you.

How much of the series do you have planned, and how much detail do your plans usually have?

Have you deviated much from the original plan, or have you stayed pretty close to it?

Do you have any idea how long the series will end up?

Keep being amazing and take care of yourself!

i am loving the questions lately, thanks for asking more!

right now, i have a rough (ha) outline of the rest of rough roads, which consists of about 1k words worth of jot notes. basically just the loose events i want to happen and in what order. that's about how much of a plan i ever have lol, i'm not a super intense planner because i find i change my mind too often to do more

overall, the story hasn't changed too much from my original plan. certain things have for sure, which i can give a few examples of bc they're kinda neat - when rae was helping jamie and caspian out of the castle, jamie was supposed to see rae erase his memory as guards approached, but be forced to continue on and escape. in the end it just didn't work with the way i was picturing the scene - rae, caspian, and centross were only supposed to be in the nether until chapter 4 or 5, max. i got a lil sidetracked with character interactions on that one hehe - perix was gonna be the big bad of rough roads, but in case you couldn't tell, it's switched to fable

that leads me into the third question though. in terms of word count, no clue. in terms of like, chapters, etc? i posted a few months ago (damn) that i had roughly 19 chapters planned for rr, 5 of which have been posted, so at least 14 more chapters for this fic? though i'm already deviating from my plan a little so it may be more. if i can keep up my inspiration i'd love to do a third fic in the series, a) to have one with perix as kinda the main villain, b) to finish the plot as i originally planned it. for now though the plan is to finish rr, and if i don't think i can write the third, i'll most a rough outline here so y'all can at least see the full conclusion of the story.

speaking of rough roads though, i have realized that somehow a month has passed since i last updated, which wtf where did the time go, i am working on the next chapter though so hopefully it'll be up soon! (god this fic is taking me so much longer than the first one lmao)

[feedthefandomfest]

Hi, I absolutely love this project and all the ideas but may I suggest an addition? I've seen a lot of posts trying to help people to comment, with the dos and don'ts, different ways to comment etc. but I have never seen a post on how to reply to comments as an author. Yet I've seen a lot of authors express that they don't actually really know how to reply or feel insecure about it.

So if we want to foster a fandom space that's more about community and less about content creators and consumers, maybe some resources about replying to comments might also help?

Ooh, yes. There are a few scenarios that come to mind where I commonly struggle in replying to comments:

just as a story that stirred up a tornado of amazing emotions makes a comment difficult to compose, a COMMENT that stirred up a tornado of amazing emotions makes a reply equally difficult!! how to express the jumbled joy and gratitude and excitement and and and

i find myself tone matching the comment? or trying to? only if the comment has a tone or style that i feel awkward utilizing, i'm afraid that awkwardness is coming across, and not in a charming way (ditto for feeling self-conscious if my reply is longer that the original comment. which... makes no sense?? it's like i'm afraid of coming across as desperate or something and i'm trying to play it chill 😂 THIS MIGHT JUST BE ME. I TEND TO OVERTHINK THINGS)

it's a WIP and i feel guilty for not updating in awhile, so my avoidant personality quirks hamstring my ability to reply... it's like i feel undeserving of the kindness? or like i use the comment to bargain with myself--go make progress on the WIP and then you can mention that in your reply!!--and then i fail to make progress and the bargain falls apart 😅

as a writer, i feel bad if my replies to different comments sound too similar. as though similarity = insincerity. OR like when you're drafting and you're like OH NO can't use that particular word/phrase because i just used it in a recent paragraph and surely others will notice the awk repetition and deem me clunky 🙃

very rarely, there are comments that make me feel shitty, often through some thoughtless phrasing (I truly don't think any of them intended to hurt my feelings), and so I'm left in the strange position of wanting to defend myself/my fic while wanting to avoid confrontation because i hate confrontation while wanting the commenter to be aware of how they might word things more sensitively in future while fearing i might alienate a reader when i need readers to LIVE 😭

Looking back on this list, it's very possible these are all manifestations of my very particular quirks and idiosyncrasies and whatnot, but it's also possible others are struggling in similar ways so I'm gonna post it anyway.

Any other aspects of replying to comments that writers struggle with? Any tips or tricks for how to reply to comments in a way that fosters community?

I'll start working on my own list of how I navigate the issues described above. Because I DO reply to comments and think it's so important for nurturing fandom life and inviting goodness into your own life.

Not to be too sappy but one of my best friends started out as a rambling raving commenter. One of those every chapter rambling raving commenters (the GOOD STUFF 🤌🏻), and I replied in kind, and then he found me on tumblr, and fast forward just shy of a year and he's one of my top precious people.

Posting fic, reading someone's fic, commenting, replying to comments -- all of these are weirdly intimate acts, in a way. Hence the awkwardness? Depending on the fic, it's like "hello, this is the product of my brain and my fingers touching the keys, and i may or may not have poured my heart and soul into it." and commenters who may or may not detect such things sometimes have the wherewithal to reply, "it was beautiful. wonderful. i loved it." and then what do you say? "thank you" doesn't feel adequate at all. AT ALL.

[tinypandacakes]

Hello! I hope everything is going well with you :)

I'm so immersed and genuinely impressed with your writing!!! Do you have any advice on writing a first chapter or for writing long fanfics in general? Are there any things you keep in mind or plan out before starting?

Thank you!💗

🥹 thank you so much! Sorry this is so late but it got trapped in my drafts! I’m no pro by any means, just a hobby writer but this is what works for me — (kind of wordy/rambling so under the cut)

Like a lot of writers, I am much better at starting long fics than finishing them please don’t look at all my WIPs that need updates but in general all my fics start from a daydream that completely consumes me until I am compelled to write it so I don’t spontaneously combust. trapper keeper was originally a single bedsharing scene that gripped my brain and wouldn’t let go.

Outside of actual writing advice, I think reading more has improved my writing. I read a fic and go “fuck, that was incredible, I wish I could write like that.” And then realize: I can!!!! I try to pick out what I liked about it and how to emulate the elements I enjoyed and incorporate those style bits into my own writing.

Some people are “plotters” and some people are “pantsers” (figuring it out as you go/writing by the seat of your pants) and some are in between. I pants it until I’m forced to plot because writing on vibes alone only takes me so far…so I have a master plot point document. Nothing excessive, just barebones plot beats.

People usually get stuck in the middle of fics because they know what start and finish they want, but the middle is kind of boggy and unclear — a little early plotting helps get past that and prevent you from writing yourself into a hole!

But if you’re super inspired by a random scene you can’t stop thinking about, just start writing that part and you can figure out the rest/plot it later…do whatever gets you to actually write something instead of just daydreaming.

I write on my phone 85% of the time time, which is nice so if I get a random idea or burst of inspiration I can jot it down. My chapter outlines are just half-coherent bullet points and lines that I think of like in the Target parking lot in the 30 seconds before I go unbuckle my kids to go inside or while walking. I do a lot of thinking and jotting while walking.

I enjoy reading and writing a first chapter that kind of throws you in the middle of something and unfolds from there…don’t need a ton of explanation because we can learn as we go.

Sorry if this was super rambly! But I think the biggest piece of advice that is super cliche but true is to write for yourself first. write what you want and what interests you. Be self indulgent. Have fun with it! That passion will shine through!💕

[your--isgayrights]

Outside of Lee Seolhwa and Lee Sookyung, do you have plans for any other character outside of Kim Dokja’s primary companions (like Gong Pildu or Han Doonghoon) for your soulmate fanfiction? Constellations like Persephone or Uriel or Sun Wukong probably wouldn’t make sense to exist in real life but maybe characters such as Han Myungoh/Han Dareum or Jang Hayoung could fit? If I recall correctly, Jang Hayoung in particular is the one responsible for the title of the fanfiction, right? I feel like she alongside the Unidentifiable Wall and the Fourth Wall would be so thematically appropriate but I couldn’t imagine how you would do it if at all. I also want to say that I’m impressed how you managed to seamlessly incorporate so many references to the original ORV into your work. It must have required you to reread and recheck the wiki.

Yess, I'm glad you asked this anon bc literally I just threw in a little reference to Han Doonghoon and Lee Sungkook in the 4.4 update and got worried people would think they had to remember the characters well to understand the surrounding plot point better than Kim Dokja does. But I think I should trust the reader a bit more lol.

Unfortunately my inclusion of Aileen and Jang Hayoung isn't going to be as big as the other kdjco members, but they're sort of already set up in the fic and have a role in chap 5. I think JHY doesn't appear directly bc to me the relationship between her and KDJ is harder to make 'real,' though I have some ideas depending on how much I decide to include in chap 5. In my plans 5 will have a gaming tourney featured, so other big 'wos players' may be referenced further there as well.

Of course like you mention the fic title and many of the chapter titles are coming directly from the mouth of Jang Hayoung, so in that way she is constantly being referenced, haha.

Han Myungoh and his daughter are referenced earlier in Chapter 4. It's sort of a drive by.

I do make use of the wiki (bless the editorsn🙏), though mostly just to check dates, numbers, and spellings of names. I like to think of myself as someone with a pretty decent memory tho, so a lot of the more specific story references are definitely just me pulling in stuff I remember from my novel read throughs. Like I might have to look at the wiki to remember Han Dareum's name, but I'll never forget Han Myungoh's entire Male Pregnancy that he had like that was a crazy random W to me on my first ORV read through I was like hello??? Also that being around when JHY was being confirmed trans haha. I think I was only out for like a year or so before reading orv so the little gender fucky moments really stuck out to me.

Sometimes rereading my old work I also remember things I forgot happened in ORV. I think part of the reason I'm struggling so much with chap 4 and onward is that now that the wall fic characters have sort of developed to where they are some of the scenes I had in mind are less 1 to 1 with the OG. For instance, I'm trying to rewrite a scene I have of YJH and KDJ having a rooftop chat that like parallels the one back before the seoul's strongest incarnation arc in the novel, but it's a bit difficult. At first I wanted to include a lot more of KDJ interacting with the rest of YJH's team, but the rooftop Scene makes more sense to put a cap on the themes explored in chap 4. But when I first wrote this scene it was less specifically addressing that theme, because it was in the outline of like right after I wrote chapter 1, so it was kind of just the OG ORV scene with the flavoring of my AU on top. A lot of the little things they do and say in the OG novel would have to be quite finagled to fit anymore, so reworking it is the big task rn.

Anyway I'm really appreciative of people like you who take note of these small details <3. it's kind of helping me remember and appreciate a lot of the parts of me that were behind a lot of Wall fic originally if that makes sense? I am like reintroducing myself to him and giving him a hug instead of running away cringing just because it's me lol.