#and honestly it could just be the phrasing of like... those short one paragraph posts that bother me

[theloveinc]

truly nothing wrong with dc so don’t come to me with that... but honestly i feel like such an old man now cuz whenever i see really ... noncon-y stuff, i’m just:

[duckprintspress]

How to Edit an Over-Length Story Down to a Specific Word Count

One of the most wonderful things about writing as a hobby is that you never have to worry about the length of your story. You can be as self-indulgent as you want, make your prose the royalist of purples, include every single side story and extra thought that strikes your fancy. It’s your story, with no limits, and you can proceed with it as you wish.

When transitioning from casual writing to a more professional writing milieu, this changes. If you want to publish, odds are, you’ll need to write to a word count. If a flash fiction serial says, “1,000 words or less,” your story can’t be 1,025 and still qualify. If a website says, “we accept novellas ranging from 20,000 to 40,000 words,” your story will need to fall into that window. Even when you consider novel-length works, stories are expected to be a certain word count to fit neatly into specific genres - romance is usually around 80,000 words, young adult usually 50,000 to 80,000, debut novels usually have to be 100,000 words or less regardless of genre, etc. If you self-publish or work with a small press, you may be able to get away with breaking these “rules,” but it’s still worthwhile to learn to read your own writing critically with length in mind and learn to recognize what you do and do not need to make your story work - and then, if length isn’t an issue in your publishing setting, you can always decide after figuring out what’s non-essential to just keep everything anyway.

If you’re writing for fun? You literally never have to worry about your word count (well, except for sometimes in specific challenges that have minimum and/or maximum word counts), and as such, this post is probably not for you.

But, if you’re used to writing in the “throw in everything and the kitchen sink” way that’s common in fandom fanfiction circles, and you’re trying to transition only to be suddenly confronted with the reality that you’ve written 6,000 words for a short story project with a maximum word count of 5,000...well, we at Duck Prints Press have been there, we are in fact there right now, as we finish our stories for our upcoming anthology Add Magic to Taste and many of us wrote first drafts that were well over the maximum word count.

So, based on our experiences, here are our suggestions on approaches to help your story shorter...without losing the story you wanted to tell!

Cut weasel words (we wrote a whole post to help you learn how to do that!) such as unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, the “was ~ing” sentence structure, redundant time words such as “a moment later,” and many others.

When reviewing dialog, keep an eye out for “uh,” “er,” “I mean,” “well,” and other casual extra words. A small amount of that kind of language usage can make dialog more realistic, but a little goes a long way, and often a fair number of words can be removed by cutting these words, without negatively impacting your story at all.

Active voice almost always uses fewer words than passive voice, so try to use active voice more (but don’t forget that passive voice is important for varying up your sentence structures and keeping your story interesting, so don’t only write in active voice!).

Look for places where you can replace phrases with single words that mean the same thing. You can often save a lot of words by switching out phrases like “come back” for “return” and seeking out other places where one word can do the work of many.

Cut sentences that add atmosphere but don't forward the plot or grow your characters. (Obviously, use your judgement. Don't cut ALL the flavor, but start by going - I’ve got two sentences that are mostly flavor text - which adds more? And then delete the other, or combine them into one shorter sentence.)

Remove superfluous dialog tags. If it’s clear who’s talking, especially if it’s a conversation between only two people, you can cut all the he saids, she saids.

Look for places where you've written repetitively - at the most basic level, “ ‘hahaha,’ he laughed,” is an example, but repetition is often more subtle, like instances where you give information in once sentence, and then rephrase part or all of that sentence in the next one - it’s better to poke at the two sentences until you think of an effective, and more concise, way to make them into only one sentence. This also goes for scenes - if you’ve got two scenes that tend towards accomplishing the same plot-related goal, consider combining them into one scene.

Have a reason for every sentence, and even every sentence clause (as in, every comma insertion, every part of the sentence, every em dashed inclusion, that kind of thing). Ask yourself - what function does this serve? Have I met that function somewhere else? If it serves no function, or if it’s duplicative, consider cutting it. Or, the answer may be “none,” and you may choose to save it anyway - because it adds flavor, or is very in character for your PoV person, or any of a number of reasons. But if you’re saving it, make sure you’ve done so intentionally. It's important to be aware of what you're trying to do with your words, or else how can you recognize what to cut, and what not to cut?

Likewise, have a reason for every scene. They should all move the story along - whatever the story is, it doesn’t have to be “the end of the world,” your story can be simple and straightforward and sequential...but if you’re working to a word count, your scenes should still forward the story toward that end point. If the scene doesn’t contribute...you may not need them, or you may be able to fold it in with another scene, as suggested in item 6.

Review the worldbuilding you’ve included, and consider what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. A bit of worldbuilding outside of the bare essentials makes a story feel fleshed out, but again, a little can go a long way. If you’ve got lots of “fun” worldbuilding bits that don’t actually forward your plot and aren’t relevant to your characters, cut them. You can always put them as extras in your blog later, but they’ll just make your story clunky if you have a lot of them.

Beware of info-dumps. Often finding a more natural way to integrate that information - showing instead of telling in bits throughout the story - can help reduce word count.

Alternatively - if you over-show, and never tell, this will vastly increase your word count, so consider if there are any places in your story where you can gloss over the details in favor of a shorter more “tell-y” description. You don’t need to go into a minute description of every smile and laugh - sometimes it’s fine to just say, “she was happy” or “she frowned” without going into a long description of their reaction that makes the reader infer that they were happy. (Anyone who unconditionally says “show, don’t tell,” is giving you bad writing advice. It’s much more important to learn to recognize when showing is more appropriate, and when telling is more appropriate, because no story will function as a cohesive whole if it’s all one or all the other.)

If you’ve got long paragraphs, they’re often prime places to look for entire sentences to cut. Read them critically and consider what’s actually helping your story instead of just adding word count chonk.

Try reading some or all of the dialog out loud; if it gets boring, repetitive, or unnecessary, end your scene wherever you start to lose interest, and cut the dialog that came after. If necessary, add a sentence or two of description at the end to make sure the transition is abrupt, but honestly, you often won’t even need to do so - scenes that end at the final punchy point in a discussion often work very well.

Create a specific goal for a scene or chapter. Maybe it’s revealing a specific piece of information, or having a character discover a specific thing, or having a specific unexpected event occur, but, whatever it is, make sure you can say, “this scene/chapter is supposed to accomplish this.” Once you know what you’re trying to do, check if the scene met that goal, make any necessary changes to ensure it does, and cut things that don’t help the scene meet that goal.

Building on the previous one, you can do the same thing, but for your entire story. Starting from the beginning, re-outline the story scene-by-scene and/or chapter-by-chapter, picking out what the main “beats” and most important themes are, and then re-read your draft and make sure you’re hitting those clearly. Consider cutting out the pieces of your story that don’t contribute to those, and definitely cut the pieces that distract from those key moments (unless, of course, the distraction is the point.)

Re-read a section you think could be cut and see if any sentences snag your attention. Poke at that bit until you figure out why - often, it’s because the sentence is unnecessary, poorly worded, unclear, or otherwise superfluous. You can often rewrite the sentence to be clearer, or cut the sentence completely without negatively impacting your work.

Be prepared to cut your darlings; even if you love a sentence or dialog exchange or paragraph, if you are working to a strict word count and it doesn't add anything, it may have to go, and that's okay...even though yes, it will hurt, always, no matter how experienced a writer you are. (Tip? Save your original draft, and/or make a new word doc where you safely tuck your darlings in for the future. Second tip? If you really, really love it...find a way to save it, but understand that to do so, you’ll have to cut something else. It’s often wise to pick one or two favorites and sacrifice the rest to save the best ones. We are not saying “always cut your darlings.” That is terrible writing advice. Don’t always cut your darlings. Writing, and reading your own writing, should bring you joy, even when you’re doing it professionally.)

If you’re having trouble recognizing what in your own work CAN be cut, try implementing the above strategies in different places - cut things, and then re-read, and see how it works, and if it works at all. Sometimes, you’ll realize...you didn’t need any of what you cut. Other times, you’ll realize...it no longer feels like the story you were trying to tell. Fiddle with it until you figure out what you need for it to still feel like your story, and practice that kind of cutting until you get better at recognizing what can and can’t go without having to do as much tweaking.

Lastly...along the lines of the previous...understand that sometimes, cutting your story down to a certain word count will just be impossible. Some stories simply can’t be made very short, and others simply can’t be told at length. If you’re really struggling, it’s important to consider that your story just...isn’t going to work at that word count. And that’s okay. Go back to the drawing board, and try again - you’ll also get better at learning what stories you can tell, in your style, using your own writing voice, at different word counts. It’s not something you’ll just know how to do - that kind of estimating is a skill, just like all other writing abilities.

As with all our writing advice - there’s no one way to tackle cutting stories for length, and also, which of these strategies is most appropriate will depend on what kind of story you’re writing, how much over-length it is, what your target market is, your characters, and your personal writing style. Try different ones, and see which work for you - the most important aspect is to learn to read your own writing critically enough that you are able to recognize what you can cut, and then from that standpoint, use your expertise to decide what you should cut, which is definitely not always the same thing. Lots of details can be cut - but a story with all of the flavor and individuality removed should never be your goal.

Contributions to this post were made by @unforth, @jhoomwrites, @alecjmarsh, @shealynn88, @foxymoley, @willablythe, and @owlishintergalactic, and their input has been used with their knowledge and explicit permission. Thanks, everyone, for helping us consider different ways to shorten stories!

[terapsina]

Fanfic writer ask game: 4, 8, 15, 16, 18

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

It really rather depends. Writing multi-chapter stories is certainly a lot more stressful (the sad line of my old dropped attempts rather showcase that).

But at the same time my longer stories do bring me bigger amounts of joy I guess. I get INVESTED in them.

But I also love writing short little drabbles that are like me baking a cookie, instead of a line of cakes. So I guess I like writing both, it's just about what I'm in the mood for.

8. What kind of document do you use to you write? Microsoft Word? Google Docs? Straight in the AO3 text box?

No, I'm a true savage, I write straight on Tumblr and make frequent use of 'save as draft' (I have an explanation to this, I used to write more TV show meta posts when I joined the hellsite, and I got so used to this particular font, in this particular size, on this particular background that writing anywhere else gets so distracting I might as well give up).

I do last edits in AO3 drafts though 🥺 that makes everything okay, right?

15. Are there words, phrases, mannerisms or scenes you tend to use a lot?

Ugh, the bane of my existence is how when I write and come up with a word that fits, the word somehow gets stuck in my mind and I'll find it used again two paragraphs down. And I don't notice until I do a reread aloud in editing. At which point I tend to google a bunch of synonyms.

Also: 'burst into laughter', 'choked back her tears', 'swallowed past the stone in her throat'. Also also my characters tend to raise their eyebrows and roll their eyes a lot, I think.

16. How long is your longest fic?

31'060 words as of yesterday, She's Come Undone and Set Free. Who knew how invested I'd get into letting Elena be angry; having Caroline dealing with her s1 trauma; making TVD era Rebekah get actual friends; and (most recently) giving Bonnie a properly interesting love interest *cough*Rebekah*cough*. (I already knew I could get invested in Elejah, that one wasn't a surprise).

18. Recommend someone else fic! (And tag them if they have a tumblr!)

This question is confusing but I'll take it to mean I should recommend someone else's fic to everyone who reads this.

Okay. I'm gonna narrow it down to TVD/Legacies fics because that's what I'm recently writing myself and if I don't put some kind of theme limit I'll get a headache.

We Remain by AnonymousObsesser - Elejah, starts during American Gothic and then goes a completely different way (I have read the first three chapters at least 5 times, the Elejah feelings are seriously top-notch).

A Year to Eternity? by @missnmikaelson - Elejah, Klaroline, a bit of Bonnie/Kol, a bit of Handon - Starts out during 5x12 of The Originals. But with TVD had a different ending (Elena isn't married to certain people for example and I love it). Neither Elijah, nor Klaus die because that's stupid (Caroline yells a bunch at Klaus about it, Elena's blood is always the magic cure we should all know this: "To seal the Hollow away we need the willing support of Elena Gilbert." Amusement sparkled in his eyes. "I'm asking about your knees, Nik, because you're about to grovel on them.").

plastic crown by @jennifersminds - Elejah but not as the focus, the focus is Elena runs away from the Salvatores (Rebekah gives her a car, Elena ends up in Vegas, I honestly don't know how to describe it, the story just has a very unique imagery) and tries to build herself back up. Trauma. Vengeance. Female friendship. Strip clubs and slight bit of vampiric serial killing. Oh, just read it, you'll understand.

(I think the three above mentioned fics can probably be blamed for me starting to write She's Come Undone).

tis the season for a kidnapping by @vorpalmuchness - Elejah, Elena gets kidnapped by a couple of idiots whose information is a BIT out of date (they call Elijah and expect gratitude is what I mean, those poor poor morons). And I LOVE it.

being unwanted (and wanting too much); by @natalia-dyer - Post s4 Hizzie, basically Lizzie coming to her great lesbian awakening/acceptance of self as she realizes why none of the guys were ever quite right.

Torn by the hours by @isagrimorie - (if you don't think I absolutely love that fic, you are WRONG, it lives in MY head rent free). Hizzie, with Lizzie waking up in the middle of the battlefield where Hope has pulled a full on massacre because she thought Lizzie was dead? I am RABID for this scene.

(okay, it's possible I overdid it a lil'bit).

[livlepretre]

Hi! You probably get asked this all the time and I haven't had the the chance to see it. What's your advice about gaining confidence about your writing? I have moments when it just flows; I enjoy it; and what I write feels true to me. But sometimes I go back and I second-guess everything and accuse myself of being pretentious. It's my current cycle. I'm asking because I love your writing and you seem to have a healthy relationship with it.

Ask away, friend :)

Honestly the main thing that's going to give you confidence is probably just time-- I find it much easier to let my former anxieties about my writing roll off my back now at 31 than I did when I was 21. The longer you write, and keep at it, the more you will figure out what you like about your writing, or other people's writing, and the more you will find yourself dismissing things that are supposed to be "good" but which leave you cold, and being attracted to things which are "hokey" or unpopular just because you really really like them. Writing really isn't about "good or bad" so much as "do I like this? does this make me feel things? think interesting things? is it fun?" Who cares what the popular opinions are on the matter?

BUT here are some things that could be proactively useful:

1) Give yourself permission to write however you want! It's only pretentious if you find it pretentious-- and pretension, in my personal experience, tends to arise out of dishonesty on the part of the writer. If you're writing something you find meaningful, and truthful, then it can't be pretentious-- it's anything but. So what if it's lofty stuff? GO FOR IT! We need those sorts of stories! I used to have a lot of fear about writing "purple prose" and also about being melodramatic in my writing-- and then I was reading a novel, really enjoying it, and realized that it does all of the things I had held back on in my writing out of fear and anxiety and that I should just say to hell with it and do the things in my writing that I wanted. Like, be as emotionally devastating and really linger on those things as much as I desired, because that's what I like to write. So, just give yourself permission to be "pretentious," but know that you aren't being pretentious at all because you are writing from a place of truth.

2) Not every writing project needs to have the same "bar" for yourself-- I find it helpful to decide when I start a fic whether I'm going to obsess over every little detail (hello Fairytale Ending) or whether I'm going to intentionally keep it casual, and write and publish messy first drafts that kind of meander and explore random tangents and just be satisfied with the writing being imperfect but fun ((The Stars Were Brightly Shining) is mostly a writing exercise I designed for myself to destress because I just write a short 1300 word or so chapter and then publish, so a lot of the time I can get a chapter out after only an afternoon of writing, vs. in FE where it might take me weeks to publish one 8000 word behemoth of a chapter that is compulsively worked over). So, basically, let some writing be more serious, and some more just for the fun of it. This can really help get things flowing.

3) Don't write if you don't feel like it. Unless you're writing for your work. But if it's a hobby-- keep it a hobby. Write when you want to, and don't let it feel like an obligation, because it's not. It should be for fun, when you have the headspace and the desire.

4) Find a time of day when you write best. This can really help you feel like writing more. For example, I'm best at writing in the mornings-- thoughts are clearer, words flow much more easily, and scenes that totally stump me when I pull open a story in the evenings flow like a miracle if I open the document up right when I wake up. Obviously, most of the time I can't write in the morning-- but a couple of days a week, sometimes more often than that if there's a holiday, I can, so I try to make an effort to if I'm excited about the idea of writing. This time for you might be late at night, when there are fewer distractions from other people, or it might be right after school/work, or on your lunch break, or only on Sunday afternoons when the light is just right. But find that time, and it will really help you to think.

5) If you're going through a funk, try Gentle Writing as a technique. This is for when you want to write-- genuinely-- but you're having a ton of trouble getting the words out. The idea is this: instead of trying to meet a high and ultimately arbitrary word count which can add unneeded stress and anxiety (I have to write 1000 words today or it's not writing!), give yourself permission to write however much you actually want to write and be content with that. That might mean writing a paragraph, a few lines of dialogue, or maybe just one sentence. The idea is any writing is writing. It could even be just adding in a word, or switching a word or a phrase out on something you've already written to something that sounds better. It could be just rereading what you already have, or jotting down some notes on your outline. It's called Gentle Writing because it's gentle on yourself, of course, but also because it's about rearranging your relationship to your writing and doing away with the arbitrary stressors that tells us you're not a real writer! Because of course you are. This is probably the form of writing that I practice the most often, with those spurts of furious inspiration where everything just flows only happening occasionally.

6) Accept and embrace the inherent imperfection of the craft. I prefer writing fic and self-publishing in many ways to submitting work for publication in other forums because that medium embraces the messiness of writing-- it's okay to have typos (I have them, you have them, everyone has them) and it's okay to be totally experimental and have clunky formatting and change your ideas midway through the process-- posting chapter by chapter tends to encourage those sorts of changes, and the "learn as you go" approach and it's easy to see it in fic-- but all of this is also true in published works, it's just that what we see when we read a book is far from the original manuscript-- many revisions past. Fic helps me to remember that all writing has its flaws, its failures, and its inadequacies, but that the whole process is really a big learning process, and hopefully the next fic or even the next chapter of the fic is written a little bit better. It's actually super freeing to realize that writing is always going to be imperfect-- for me, that's what helps me move on from past mistakes and keep swimming forward.

I hope some of this might be helpful. Good luck with your writing!!

[official-weasley]

You sure do write amazing! Can you please give me some tips on how to write better?

Thanks!

Hi!

First of all, thank you, it means a lot! 🥰

Second of all thank you for the ask. This is my first one so I hope I am doing this properly.

Third of all READ. I would say everything but it's too broad. Read what you're writing. If you're writing fanfic read those. I have learned so much from reading other stories. Also, try and find your own style...if you think it sounds hard it is. I needed years. I was always writing in third person POV and I always felt like something was missing. I find something magical in the fact that you can read a story from first person POV, because you feel like you get to know them better and that you are friends and build a relationship with a character.

I read a few books (Divergent trilogy among them) with first-person POV and I was hooked. It's okay to love someone's writing or their style but while reading them think of WHY you love their style so much and try to implement those characteristics into your writing. Don't worry about sounding similar to someone else. You won't. Each writer's style is unique and at first, it might seem like copying but you will soon develop your own style which will be your own. Copying is learning but do give credit where needed. Also, don't be afraid to experiment with different styles. Nothing you write is wrong. If you keep saying to yourself that your writing can't be right because nobody else is doing it, meaning it isn't following the rules it means you created something entirely yours and I think that is BEAUTIFUL and smart not wrong.

Try to think about what is the most important thing you want to point out in your story. To me, I don't like to read long descriptions of how people and places look like. To me, it's redundant because I have a crazy imagination and I love to create all of that for the characters myself and I like the liberty that I think how a character I am reading about looks like. Think about what is important to you when you write. To me, it's relationships between characters and I tend to focus on that the most.

When it comes to vocabulary I can't be of much help. I suck at it. I am not a native English speaker and finding synonyms or describing a gesture or how a character's expression looks like I struggle every time and it takes the most of my time to do that. It helps to have websites that can help you find these. I have a dictionary for words that I want to translate from my native language. And I have Google always opened to search for word definitions and I saw someone post a website here on Tumblr which has honestly been a lifesaver: onelook.com/thesaurus

Also, one thing that I have noticed helps me a lot is that I write without stopping as much as possible so that the story stays on the original idea line as much as it possibly can. So if you sit down to write a chapter, just do it...no distractions. Don't write a paragraph and go on your phone and then return. Stick to it, it will be better trust me: learn from my mistakes. (Of course, if you have a heavy, emotion-filled chapter like someone dying and you cry while writing...then please do take a break. I needed a week to write Chapter 6 and 7 of Part 8 of the story I am posting now because I was a crying mess and I simply couldn't break my heart more than I did per day). Then I read it and change what I want quickly. Then I run it through Grammarly then I reread it a few more times. Within these times I mark the words or paragraphs which should have different words for what I am describing or where I feel something is missing. I come back to those parts and try searching for different words or instances that can relate to what I have written down.

I also triple-check that I don't have words that repeat. So if I had said said said a few times I will skip it and indicate who is speaking with a gesture they do while saying something. That helps me a lot because I like to repeat words I like a lot!

One thing that I learned is that it doesn't matter how you write as long as you enjoy it. If you write a chapter and you read through it and it makes you smile you have won no matter how it looks in the first draft. Learning to love everything you write is so important and until I had that I thought that my writing sucks and I will never get anywhere.

And yes, I will say it: JUST WRITE MORE. I know it's the biggest cliché but it's true. Also, be patient with yourself and give yourself credit. I always thought that I will never get any better and will always be stuck at the level of writing I have but if I read something I wrote like 7 years ago...even like a year ago, the difference is HUGE and it makes me proud and you should do that as well. Read that cringy story you wrote years ago because it gives a confidence boost when you compare it to your writing now and you see how much you progressed.

ALSO, one thing that helped me a lot and I wish I was doing this sooner (as I just started with the story I am posting now): when you're reading ANYTHING and you find a word or a phrase that intrigues you and you think you could use it at any time in your stories WRITE IT DOWN. If you don't know the meaning write the meaning next to it too. If you have examples where you could use it (your ideas) write that next to it. It has saved me so many times with the story I finished a few weeks ago (and will post it after the ongoing one is finished) because sometimes I see a character doing a gesture or making a certain face in my head and I struggle to describe what I see in my head and having phrases that I read elsewhere written down is so helpful because more you read and you get different ideas how to describe the same thing it's so nice when you find just the right one!

One of the last tips as this is getting too long (I don't know how to describe something in a short sentence): when you get an idea for a story don't just sit down and start writing the first chapter because (and I am talking from my own experience) sooner or later you will get lost, you will get the information wrong and it's just harder for you. What I tend to do is write down all the names of the main characters and write at least 3 things that stand out for them and you might use more than once in your story. For example, if a character gets a gift from someone; write it down WHEN AND WHAT AND FROM WHO. Because if you mention that gift again 20 chapters later you will get frustrated because you won't find that little detail that suddenly became so important and if you have notes and you can find it at once it makes things easier. I also write down chapter summaries. I know it might be hard to know exactly how many chapters you will have (it usually changes for me anyway: for example, the story I will post soon went from the original 10 to 20 chapters because the chapters were just too long and I needed to separate them) or to know at once how the story ends but it makes things 10 times easier and once you start writing chapters down the story just starts to flow and appear in front of you and knowing what you will write about next makes you more focused on the chapter at hand and everything seems more connected and you don't have gaps in your story and inconsistencies. At least for me, it's really easy because I like to push myself to write a chapter per day and I just take my notebook and check what I have to write for that day and then it's suddenly easier because I can just focus on writing the chapter instead of thinking of what to do next.

Of course, all that I just wrote is just an opinion. You should write as you see fit! Don't let anyone tell you that you CAN'T do this or that. It's YOUR writing. YOUR story. You can do whatever you want and write it in the way YOU want. Don't write by the rule book. Write in a way that will make you happy. I have to admit I needed a long time to learn that as I always wanted to follow the rules but I was unhappy and I didn't like what I wrote and I put that on myself thinking my writing is bad when it was just the fact that the style and the rules around it weren't my cup of tea.

Also if you have someone who can read through what you've written and you trust them; give them your story or chapters before you publish them because every story through someone else's eyes is better already. Also, don't be afraid of feedback and criticism. I have never learned more from anything else than criticism. And always take it as positive; a way to better your story and writing. But also know that you don't always have to apply everything someone tells you to do. If you are content with how it is, leave it. Perhaps remember the critique and maybe you'll be able to apply it to a different story. That's how you grow.

Push yourself to write as much as you can. Even if it's a paragraph per day it's something. And most importantly write what you like not what everyone else is doing. If you want to write 30 fics about the same character then do so as long as it brings you joy and makes you happy because no matter how cheesy it sounds it does show in your writing. ❤

I hope I answered your question at least to some degree. I am sorry it's so long I don't know how to write short stuff 🙈

If you have any other questions I would be happy to answer them 🥰

[rivalsforlife]

"Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?” / “You have three answers?” / “Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”" and the rest of the scene if you want to haha, not a lot fits in the ask box :P

Alright!! I’ll do... most of the scene haha, there is one part of the scene I really want to point out, so I’ll once again put this under a keep reading so I don’t take up all this space on people’s dashboards...

Okay!

So basically this part of the scene existed because... I kind of wanted to touch on Miles’ perspective throughout this entire fic as well as a handful of headcanons for Miles and also so that I could fit in a bunch of narumitsu fluff in there somewhere, since my notes for this chapter were pretty much to just shove as much fluff as possible to make up for the rest of it. 

In some ways I’m kind of regretting talking about Miles’ perspective because that reduces some of my flexibility for possibly rewriting this fic entirely from Miles’ perspective OR the handful of jumbled scenes that could potentially form a sequel someday... but honestly writing has been like pulling teeth lately so who knows if that will happen at all. Either way I’m sure I’ll be able to get it to work somehow. (Also kind of... directly pointing out what Miles was feeling when it probably would’ve been a better decision to leave it implicit but WHATEVER TOO LATE NOW --)

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Miles didn’t say anything, and Phoenix might have thought he fell asleep again if it weren’t for his breathing. It didn’t line up with what Phoenix had learned from experience, when Miles fell asleep.

Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?”

“You have three answers?”

when you’re Miles Edgeworth emotions are waaaaay more complicated than they need to be huh. Since this scene was just Dumping Ground For My Headcanons they for the most part tend to line up with what I think most of the time, buuut I might go into more detail a little later.

“Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”

Phoenix shushed him by clapping a hand over his mouth, except he missed in the dark and slapped Miles’ nose instead. “Whoops! Sorry. Okay. Give me all four.”

aww see they can laugh about it now like Miles didn’t cry for several hours after the rejection :’) 

“I should have guessed,” Miles sighed. He used the hand not currently squished against his side by Phoenix’s entire body to hold Phoenix’s hand, guiding it down from his face and holding it against his chest.

This is me trying to find a way to write affection in a way that isn’t totally awkward... uh so basicallyyyy I am not a very affectionate person and I don’t think Miles is particularly big on physical affection most of the time, so when I write him trying to express affection I typically go for subtler things... like hand-holding and such, because I think even that much would be a pretty big deal for him when it wouldn’t be for some other people.

Pretty much every time in this fic he initiates any form of physical touch (which is pretty often because he is attempting to Court Phoenix (ba dum tshhh)) it’s something that he’s deliberately thought through and deliberately initiated, as opposed to like... Phoenix who does it more unconsciously. (And of course not all of Miles’ initiation of physical affection is strictly romantic, I like to headcanon him making an effort towards platonic physical affection as well towards his friends + found family members... just putting this here to cover my bases so no one thinks every time Miles puts his hand on someone’s shoulder he’s flirting with them haha that’s NOT what I was going for, more that he’s aware that lots of people enjoy physical contact and see that as a way of expressing affection, and he’s trying to get better at expressing affection, and Phoenix happens to be one of those people he is expressing affection to, in both the platonic and romantic sense.)

(That was a very long paragraph for literally one sentence about affection hahahaha...)

“Well, I am fairly sure I had a crush on you in fourth grade.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a crush on you in fourth grade, I changed my whole career for you because of it. You were in love with your law books.”

“I told you I ‘liked’ you and you started talking about girls.”

“O-Okay, sorry I didn’t know about bisexuality when I was nine, give me a break here.”

I waver back and forth on whether Miles had a little baby crush on Phoenix in fourth grade or not, I guess when I wrote this I was feeling that way! Anyways this line is referencing the flashback part of chapter 3:

“Do you like anyone, Miles?”

Miles blinked. “I like you.”

Phoenix’s face reddened. “N-No, I meant like-like. You know, like a girl.”

Miles looked at the ground, and his face was red as well.

this fic would have been over with SO MUCH FASTER if Phoenix actually knew what he meant there -- 

My interpretation is pretty much always that Phoenix had a little baby crush on Miles in fourth grade, but it wasn’t until he got older that he realized that it was a crush and not just pure idolization -- which was definitely part of it too, and I could probably write thousands of words on how baby Phoenix’s idolization crush on Miles when he was younger shaped some of their interactions throughout the trilogy but I’m not going to get into that now. I thiiink I said in this fic somewhere that Phoenix didn’t realize he was bi until he was in his teens, so baby Phoenix just thought that Miles was His Best Friend Who He Wants To Hang Out With All The Time And Hold Hands With And If Miles Were A Girl Phoenix Would Want To Kiss Him, and at some point adult Phoenix remembers this train of thought and goes “... wait.”

As for Miles, in the universe of this fic he figures out that he’s gay pretty young, probably largely influenced by Larry talking constantly about girls while Miles complains to his father “I don’t know why Larry’s talking about how pretty [girl of the day] is, I think Phoenix has a nicer smile” while Gregory tries to pretend his laughter is him choking on his dinner. And I think Gregory was an excellent father who loved and supported his son, and probably talked about it a bit with him and made sure Miles knew he was always loved and supported no matter what and --

Anyways, there’s that.

The next paragraphs are mostly them talking about the situations where Miles did fall in love with Phoenix (Turnabout Goodbyes) and then realized it (after Farewell, My Turnabout/ when Phoenix fell off the bridge) then kind of... repressed it until post-canon because he didn’t think he was ready yet and they weren’t really in the right place. I don’t have much to say about it because it’s all pretty straightforward stuff...

Then Phoenix deflects Miles asking about when he fell in love, because Phoenix is still struggling a bit with expressing his emotions this way haha. Also because he was in denial for a really long time so he can’t quite pinpoint exact moments aside from “the moment Miles stood up for him during the class trial”, but much like Miles he’s probably had multiple realizations of love throughout his life.

My personal headcanons though is that Phoenix genuinely thought he was just helping out a friend throughout the trilogy... and then sometime during disbarment, possibly during one of those Europe trips, he realizes “oh crap I loved him the whole time”. Obviously in this fic Phoenix doesn’t realize he’s in love with Miles until the cherry blossom petals scene at the end of chapter 4 and then can’t quite articulate that feeling as love rather than more general attraction until the end of chapter 8 after reading Trucy’s note. (Where the last psyche-lock breaks!)

What I DO want to talk about though is this line at the end of the scene:

“It doesn’t matter when I realized it,” Phoenix whispered. “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now.”

No one’s pointed it out so idk if it was too subtle or too obvious that it didn’t need pointing out, but it’s a callback to this line in chapter 4:

Edgeworth stared at him with an unreadable expression, almost curious. “Well, you don’t have to say anything,” he said. “What matters most is that I can be here with you now.”

It’s a very slight difference in the last part of the dialogue, but an important one!! 

I had an interesting conversation with my best friend a while ago... long story short her brother was in a relationship for a long time with this one woman then they broke up and now he’s engaged to a different woman, and they dated for a shorter time than the first. And my friend says that she and her family knew that this was a different relationship and that she was “the one” because the way they talked about doing things was different -- more of a “we’re going to do [x]” rather than “she and I are going to do [x]”. This probably isn’t really a real thing so like... don’t use it to judge relationships around you... but I thought it was pretty neat.

So in the conversation in chapter 4, Miles says “What matters most is that I can be here with you now”, which is still like exceptionally romantic, but it still sees the two of them as separate entities -- whereas Phoenix in chapter 9 saying “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now” sort of phrases the two of them as more of a unit. ... not that they’re not still separate entities with their own lives outside of just each other of course but you know. you know. just having some fun with sentences!

Anyways that’s what I really wanted to talk about... I hope you enjoyed!!

[aro-culture-is]

Rant#It's funny how ppl say aromantism is a made of thing to justify hurting a person when aros are the ones who set boundaries & talk abt eachother's needs. I'm so hurt by this guy I thought was bestfrn. I felt guilty for turning him down &we aren't even frns anymore and I thought it was my fault. Recently came to kno that he already had a gf when he talked abt his rom interest in me. He wanted his bestfrn to be a side bitch? or was our frnship nth to him that he could risk losing it?disgusting

It's funny how ppl say aromantism is a made of thing to justify hurting a person when aros are the ones who set boundaries & talk abt eachother's needs. 

so in regards to this: while as a community we encourage each other to set boundaries and talk about each other’s needs, I do think that characterizing us as all being good at that is incorrect. i’m not. i try, but realistically, i have a lot of anxiety issues. i’m actively working on it, but... that doesn’t mean that I’m good at it. I know a lot of strategies and ideas about how to do things the “good” way. I know that I need to communicate my needs and wants and let others do the same. but the last time I trusted someone with a lot of my mental health with little reservation I ended up traumatized and scared and even worse off for it all. I do my best and while I think we all should do our best, careful on generalizing those things lest we ignore the problems we do have. I also do get that this could be a spacing thing though, so it’s chill.

I'm so hurt by this guy I thought was bestfrn. I felt guilty for turning him down &we aren't even frns anymore and I thought it was my fault. 

So: expressing your boundaries is not “your fault”. Expressing your boundaries and someone else expressing theirs (ie: you didn’t want him as a romantic partner, he didn’t want you as a friend) is not anyone’s fault. It’s unfortunately going to be a sense of self vs self care vs emotional maturity situation on each side, and that isn’t someone’s fault. 

Recently came to kno that he already had a gf when he talked abt his rom interest in me. He wanted his bestfrn to be a side bitch? or was our frnship nth to him that he could risk losing it?disgusting 

I’m honestly going to be cautious here. I don’t know him. I don’t know you. But I do know enough to say that this sounds like an extremely emotionally charged statement, and that I’m curious how he phrased it. Obviously, you’ve expressed that you aren’t willing to be in a romantic relationship with him, and he should respect that. That is not in question. What I am questioning is “side bitch”. Did he express it as a “we’re in an open relationship and I also still want to pursue you” way, did it seem spontaneous, was it more of a “I don’t want to be with my current partner because I’m still interested in you”, or something else still?

I say this not to bring up an obviously painful memory, but because I’m strongly questioning if this was an attempt at polyamory by an emotionally immature person, if it was an attempt at cheating, or just more generally a statement by an emotionally immature person. You’ve expressed your no, and that is that. I am a random internet stranger who has to take your limited characters and try to interpret what I can, and I want to reassure you but also caution that not all attempts at dating more than one person are disgusting, and while emotional maturity is hard to handle and NOT YOUR JOB, that also doesn’t mean that your friendship meant nothing to him.

And with that, a final note: my experience and understanding so far is that a lot of emotionally immature people (typically raised with toxic masculinity) THINK that a person who listens to them talking about their emotions and cares is expressing an interest in dating. This, in short, boils down to amatonormativity suggesting that the only people who will ever stick with you are the people who you date or marry. We know that amatonormativity sucks, and when you combine that with toxic masculinity, you get a lot of people who assume and are frightened by someone having an interest in them as a person at all.

That said, don’t pity them and try to date or explain this to all of them. It’s often a futile effort until they (hopefully!) distinguish the feelings. You’ve done your part. I would suggest that it isn’t that your friendship meant nothing. It is that it meant something and that scared him, and combined with amatonormativity and emotional immaturity, is leading to some pretty dumb choices.

You don’t have to stick around for him, but don’t blame yourself. You’re fine. It sucks and I won’t deny that, but this isn’t your fault, and you meant something, and it just didn’t work out. That’s okay. You’re okay.

Good luck in future endeavors, and I hope that the healing process goes well. If you want any of my thoughts on that, I would advise this post from the paragraph beginning with “What I can tell you is...” 

[charlies-crashcourses]

Charlie’s College Crash Course #1: How to write a 10-page paper in 1 day

Background info first: I’m in the last year of my English undergrad degree and I’ve had to write at least 3 dozen 10+ page papers in that time. That being said, I’ve never once started writing a paper more than a few days in advance, and 9 times out of 10 I go for one day only. Honestly, this should be considered my trademark at this point because after all my high school AP courses and my English degree, it’s been going on 7 years of 1 day papers.

and so, dear friends, I would like to pass on this skill to you all. I should mention, none of this will work if you’re not already pretty solid on paper writing, i.e. if you only ever get C’s on your papers now this isn’t magically going to get you up to an A with one day. This is just to streamline the process, allowing for more time for other things or, more commonly, allowing you to not freak the fuck out when you realize the deadline is tonight at midnight and you’ve procrastinated all month on the final paper for your class.

(I should also mention that I’m currently procrastinating a 2.5k word paper due tomorrow night that I’ve only read one of two books for, so. There’s that.)

Anyway, without further ado, here we fucking go:

Step 1: Prep for the Day

this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint, so make sure you prep the day accordingly. Ideally, you’d wake up before noon, make sure there’s nothing else planned for the day, and tell your roommates/parents to leave you alone until you officially reemerge at midnight (or, if you’re in college and have a 24 hr library, try going there. Mine has closed off study rooms that I can chill in, but if you’rs doesn’t just find a relatively comfy quiet spot). If you’re at home, pick one spot, clear it off super quick, grab some snacks and energy drinks, make sure you have everything charged and ready to go. I don’t recommend cafes or the like simply because there’s lots of distractions and also those places close before midnight, so you can’t stay there the entire time and therefor waste time moving halfway through.

Also, I would recommend taking a break between all the steps after this one. Don’t let the break take too long, but just long enough to walk the block, or grab another snack, or do some stretches, or watch a ten minute video, something like that. I personally never break at a natural stopping point, because then I’ll never get back to it, but how you break is up to you.

Step 2: Preliminary Research

now normally I do some preliminary research beforehand. Basically looking into the topic, figuring out generally what resources would be best, etc. That can usually be done in five to ten minute bursts throughout the week or so before the due date, whenever the topic comes to mind.

But then again, I’ve also procrastinated that until the very end as well, so. Usually all that takes if you go for the day of is some quick google scholar searches, or if you have access to the MLA database that works as well. Or, if you’re more like me, you could just deep dive on wikipedia and check out what relevant facts pertain to what numbers in the bibliography, then go ahead and cite those wherever possible.

Basically, get a good base knowledge of the big facts. This step should be quick and dirty. For instance, for my paper my sophomore year on Robespierre (14 pages written in a record 6 hours) I combed through his wiki, some websites on the French Revolution, and watched the Crash Course youtbue video on the subject. The rest of the research was done after I did my first outline. 

Step 3: Outline #1

This is just a basic “What the fuck am I talking about” outline. It can be bullet points, numbers, stream of consciousness, i don’t care as long as it works for you. 

For the Robespierre paper, my first outline was something to the effect of: -born poor -school -elected to govt -took over govt -killed people -got killed

and that was it. It’s like, before you build a house you have to clear off the right amount of land, make sure there’s nothing in your way, and give yourself a vague area in which to build. Super simple stuff.

I did get some advice, from somewhere I can’t remember, that a paragraph is basically equal to half a page, and so (excluding one page length for your intro + conclusion) you should have around two paragraphs or ideas per page. So my outline above would need some more points, there, to keep me on track for my page count. I eventually added a whole paragraph about how he was chosen to read for a visiting King Louis at his school and was then ignored which made him hate the monarchy, and another about what happened after he died what with the government in shambles, etc etc. So two bullet points per page should do it.

Step 4: More Research

This is where you get a little more in depth. Look at your bullet points and learn everything you need to about them. 

For my first bullet, I found stuff like: “Robespierre was born in France in 1758 as Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre (the third of this name), to a lawyer and the daughter of a brewer, he had two siblings, and he could read by age eight. he also loved pigeons and started a lifelong feud with his sister over one that he gave her that she let die."

and then I would move on to the next bullet point, and so on and so forth, filling in the gaps. Make sure to keep track of where your info comes from, as well. It doesn’t have to be a full citation, but just the hyperlink after the fact is going to save you so much time, i promise

Pro Tip: don’t throw out anything as irrelevant just yet. Just gather all the facts, no judging. Trust me on this.

Step 5: Better Outline

this is where you start to have fun with it. I would like to remind you that no one, unless you have some crazy micromanaging professor, sees your outlines. This is for you and you only, so write it in whatever way makes sense to you. It can be colorful and fun and whatever you need it to be.

 I actually took screenshots of my outline for that robespierre paper (hence why i chose that one as an example) so here’s a look at what I do:

so, really, honestly, as shitty as you need this to be, or as many jokes, or whatever works for you my dude. Explain it like you would if it were a story you were telling, not a biographical/argumentative paper. Get informal with it.

Step 6: Write the Damn Thing

Okay to now that you did the research and wrote your fun outlines and all that, all you have to do now is write it! I tend to do this in the same doc as I do my outline, but starting again from the top so I can see what I need to add next right under where I’m typing, then delete it once I’ve covered the material. 

If you did your outline well, this is really just cleaning that up so it’s “school appropriate” and “not an affront to people’s eyes and sensibilities” or whatever. At this point, it should go super quick, maybe 2 hours max to finish up writing what you need to write, here.

Pro Tip: do your citations as you go. Better yet, make your bibliography first so that A its already done and B you know what your in text cites will be from the start so that you don’t have to add them in later. If you kept your hyperlinks next to your research, just open up citationmachine and get those cites, then replace the links in your outline with the actual citations so it’s easier to line them up with in text cites while you go

Step 7: Fudging

oh, you thought we were done after writing the paper? nah fam. Chances are, you didn’t hit the page count you wanted to, you’re probably around 1 full page short, unless you love long sentences. This is where my pro tip from all the way back on step 4 comes in.

First, before you do anything drastic, make sure your formatting is correct. If your prof wants the big long “name, date, class, assignment, etc” in the top left then that adds a lot of length. Fonts will also change your page length, and so will footnotes and citations.

If you did it right and saved all the less relevant details, congratulations! Just sprinkle a few of those in there and you’re magically at your page count. This is the only reason I included the pigeon story in my paper (and this post), because I was about 3/4 of a page short of passably saying I got to 14.

If you didn’t save those inane details, don’t go looking for them now. Trust me, it’s much more pain than it’s worth. Your best bet, then, would be to either A. Add one more point if you can think one up, B. do some more research for relevant details to add in, or C. expand on the details you already have with more examples or effects or whatever applies.

do not, i repeat do NOT, just try and expand the words you use, like changing “to” into “in order to” or whatever those deflate your phrases charts tell you Not to do. They tell you not to for a reason. 1. it sounds stupid adding them in after the fact, and 2. your professor absolutely 100% will know and will mark you down if you do that in excess. Inflated phrase charts like that are well known by professors, and also adding them in after the fact won’t fit in at all with the voice that the rest of your paper was written in, so it’ll stand out like a sore thumb. just don’t do it unless it’s your last possible “i have ten minutes to turn this in” effort.

Step 8: Celebrate!!

And that’s it! If you did it right, this whole process should have taken you around the equivalent of 1 hour per page you had to write or so, so in a regular twelve hour day you’ve got time to take breaks and eat and all that shit. Go turn it in and celebrate your victory!

[piratejenna]

Haunting Fic Lines

I’ve seen several posts about wanting to write something that sticks with people and has lines in that haunt the reader, which I absolutely agree with. And I thought it would be fun to share some of the lines I’ve read in fanfics that have stuck with me. All the fics are linked, and I definitely recommend all of them. 

I’ve given some short thoughts for each fic and line, but mostly, these are just lines that stick with me for one reason or another. Every so often one of these will just pop into my head, so I’d like to share them with y’all!

Right now, he was eighteen, and he hadn’t yet learned to hate Phoenix Wright.

“Today I Read About this Superhero” by antistar_e (kaikamahine) Fandom: Ace Attorney Summary: Or, the life story of Apollo Justice, defense attorney.

This is an incredible backstory for Apollo written prior to Dual Destinies. And it is by far my favorite backstory for him. It’s an amazing story and has so many wonderful references to canon, both with characters and events. It’s a story that’s heartbreaking at times and heartwarming at others and I freaking love it! But this line, I can’t even with this line. The paragraph before it is also incredible, describing how Apollo and Nick are interacting in this moment versus how they will interact in the future. And then the scene ends with this gut punch. Something about the phrasing of “learned to hate” that just hits me so hard. And having it conclude a scene where Apollo is excitedly gushing with Nick about things and genuinely enjoying their conversation is so heartbreaking. This fic man...

Alcohol flows through the camps like cheap stand-ins for morphine...

“Human Transmutation as Metaphor” by therjolras ( @captainpeggys) Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Summary: When the time comes, Roy says no. what it says on the tin. character study leading up to and directly following Roy's role in The Promised Day.

Honestly, this line just blows me away every time. This is such an evocative simile, I can’t get over it! The fic itself is very heavy, but also so good! This is one of those pieces that has so many incredible literary things, where it repeats or mirrors lines throughout it, and just- asldkfl. If I could teach this fic as an example of stellar writing, I would.

“If you wish to frame another person that much, you should know I have no intention of hammering the hook into the wall for you. Show how low you’ll sink on your own.”

“A New Year’s Resolution” by  @earthdeep Sequel to “The Honorary Gavin” Fandom: Ace Attorney Summary: Even when one year ends, the next comes marching in. But that doesn't mean a fresh start; the past will always come back to haunt the present. A short(er) sequel to the AA4 AU fic, 'The Honorary Gavin', and absolutely not a standalone.

This is the sequel to one of my all time favorite AA fics. It’s a beautiful look at an AU that is deeply fascinating, sad in a lot of ways that canon isn’t, but also happier than canon in others? It’s just amazing and I love it so dearly. And again, another amazing metaphor! This just has such a wonderful picture and I love it so much!

He stayed still for a moment longer and then, for the umpteenth time (and not even he first time in this conversation alone) Simon Keyes said something that turned the world on its head all over again. “I hope you make sure he doesn’t turn out like me. The world doesn’t need more people like me.”

(Assumption: The outcome of the trail was indivative, exclusively, of failure of whatever plan was behind the forged diary page.) ... (Assumption: Wright’s disbarment was collateral damage.)

“And there we are, drawing new lines in the sand. At what point do the lines become so malleable they are meaningless.” Principles only mattered if you stuck to them when they were inconvenient.

“A Person Not an Island” by nevercomerunning Fandom: Ace Attorney Summary: Life kept proving to Edgeworth that no one could survive alone. And part of a person's strength was in the people standing next to them. While Edgeworth has had help putting his life back together, he had doubts about his own ability to do that for someone else. Which doesn't mean he isn't going to try.

So I have several from this fic because it just wrecks me. The writing in this is a style that I adore! The conversation that builds to the first quote is one of my favorites. There are a lot of good moments, but it’s that one that really stands out to me. The layout of the chapter that has the middle quote is beautiful, bouncing back and forth between dialogue and Miles’ thoughts in parenthesis. It builds an amazing tension to the scene that it just killer! Those two chapters are probably my favorite in the whole fic. And of course, the second conversation builds to the third quote, which is another incredible statement, and again a very evocative picture. (are you noticing the trend?) And in context, this line kills me. The fic as a whole is stunning, and these chapters are a critical point that lands phenomenally. I will go back to this fic just to read these two chapters.

he’s no longer voltron’s right hand, but he can still be its blade. a knife thrown through space. a hedged bet. bought time.

“i am become blade” by @amillionsmiles Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

This is another kind of character study fic, and is one of those things that I have found is unique to fic. It’s short and very focused on the character’s thoughts and perspective. And again, we have an incredible picture and repeated lines. The description of a blade and what it is is given at the beginning of the fic and repeated at the end with killer effect. There’s also a nice back and forth between the actual moment and a memory Keith has of his dad explaining this concept to him, and the build up to this quote and the repeated line gets me every time.

This ain’t horseshoes or hand grenades, though. Pity, he’s pretty good at both.

“Five Times Eliot Thought He Was Going to Die“ by @fayedartmouth Fandom: Leverage Summary: Dying’s never part of the plan, but sometimes we do what we have to do.

This fic is great overall, but this line just pops into my head sometimes as a great example of voice. The context of this line kills, giving it a kind of resignation. It’s so wonderfully in character for Eliot, and you could easily hear him saying it. The just, pragmatic nature of this line is what gets me. It’s also the fact that this line is built around a phrase I’ve heard people in my family say all my life (being close only counts in horseshoes or hand grenades) and the fact that it’s built on that phrase without saying it is just amazing. And it’s so great, to use that instead of stating the meaning behind the phrase. Because again, character study. The writing is capturing Eliot’s voice, and this phrasing keeps you in his head in this moment. And it’s the fact that his voice is so present that adds to the resignation. There’s no fight in this line, and it just wrecks me.

Again, definitely recommend all of these fics. These are some of my favorites, and I have all of these quotes written out on sticky notes above my writing desk. Please add on to this or drop me an ask if you have lines that stick in your head. I would love to hear some other great examples from fic and get some recommendations of things to check out!

[eloarei]

About the process of creating a book (the not-writing part)

I was asked recently about if making a book was easy or tedious or whatever, and I realized that was actually something I’d like to talk about. I’d never done it before (and still I only have a little experience), but I’ve been teaching myself and it’s been... fun?  Behind the cut (that’s still a thing, right?), I ramble about formatting, PDFs, fonts, and some other stuff. (Also pictures, though most of them are the same as the ones I posted yesterday.) 

First of all, I had to pick a Print-On-Demand (POD) website. That was easy for me, because finding the website was actually what made me want to make the book. I used Lulu.com, which has worked very well for me the two times I’ve used it. (It has a bunch of bad reviews, but honestly I got just what I paid for both times. They apparently offer editing and marketing services; I can’t vouch for those because I only used the POD service. But personally I wouldn’t trust anyone to edit or market my book, let alone some randos on some website. They’re a POD site. That’s what they’re good at, so that’s what I use.)  It would have been almost too easy if they just let me copy-paste the text to them, but understandably they wanted a PDF. PDFs are kind of the bane of my existence, but I downloaded a template from them (for a 6x9 inch novel, with appropriate margins) and then copy-pasted my fic into it using LibreOffice. (I’m so-so about LibreOffice, but it does create PDFs reasonably well.)  From there... well, then I had to go through the process of reformatting it. I’d copied the text from my AO3, and that meant that it had spaces between every paragraph and no indents, which is how AO3 fics are typically formatted. It was a lot of Tab-Left-Down-Down-Down-Backspace-Backspace-Enter-Repeat. For 140k words, it took a few casual days.  After the bulk of that was done, I realized the indents/tabs looked... weird? They were too big. ^^; Luckily there was a setting in LibreOffice to change them all automatically. I almost cried at the thought of having to do it manually haha.  Adding data to the headers and footers came next. I chose to only add the page number to the footer, and nothing to the header. Normally people will have the author’s name on one side, and the book’s title on the other, but I skipped that for the time being. Not sure if I’ll do it for the ‘official’ release.  (Somehow my footer ended up being too small, so that’s something I need to look into.)  Next I had to pick a font and a font size. I decided to do something a little gimmicky: I have alternating chapters that take place in modern and historical times, so I chose different fonts to represent those chapters. For the historical chapters I chose “Century”, which is a serif font (meaning that it has little embellishments, like “Times New Roman”), while for the modern chapters I chose “Verdana”, a sans-serif font (meaning that it is sans/without the embellishments, like whatever font Tumblr uses).  It’s typically agreed that novels are best in serif fonts, because it’s easier to read them for a long session. The embellishments make the letters blend together into visually recognizable words, which is apparently how we read, as opposed to looking at every letter individually. However, because I wanted to be quirky, more than half of my book is in sans-serif, which I’m just hoping doesn’t annoy people.  I used Verdana size 11 and Century size 12. Even so, the Verdana still looks too large to my eye, so I’ll probably change it again.  After that was mostly aesthetic formatting, which was the actual fun part. I tabbed down I think about 10 spaces at the start of every chapter, then went back up a space or two, increased the font size and changed the font to something slightly fancier and wrote the chapter title (which for me were just “Chapter Five”, etc).  (UPON FURTHER SCRUTINY, apparently not all of my first chapter pages are tabbed down the same amount. ugh. ^^; They’re close but not identical. How messy.)  Under the chapter titles, I simulated “drop caps” on the first phrase of the chapter, because I didn’t have a good drop caps font. I just did this by retyping the whole phrase in caps, and then changing the first letter to a slightly larger font size.  Next were a few easy things: a title page, a few silly “praise for” pages of reviews I got from online readers (these probably won’t be in the “official” version; they just make me smile), a mock-up copyright page (mock-up because I don’t actually have a copyright or anything yet), a short dedications page (mine was just one sentence), and then an empty page so that the story text starts on the right, which is standard. I have bought another self-published book which otherwise looks pretty good, but it starts the story on the left page and it’s just so jarring.  At that point, the PDF was pretty much done. I added a few other little touches, like some little fancy dagger icons during in-chapter scene transitions. I ended up with the “the end” page being on the left, which, again, is really awkward, so I found a chapter that only had like two lines on the last page, and went back in and deleted a handful of words in the chapter so that it would end on the previous page instead.  THEN came the fun but agonizing part, as I’m not as much of a graphic designer as I sometimes wish. I had to make a cover. The other self-published book I bought looks really nice with a beautiful illustration on the front, but the spine and back had just tiny white text, and didn’t even include a synopsis. So I downloaded a template for a 6x9inch wrap-around cover, tossed it up in Photoshop, paint-bucketed it black, and went to work. I pasted in my synopsis in off-white sans-serif font about the same as my internal font, and bolded some of the key words for... ease of skimming and/or funsies? At the top I added a short dialogue exchange from the first chapter that I thought represented the story as a whole, chose a different font that stood out, and gave it a red shadow so it would stand out more. For fun I added some faint red blood-splatters behind the text.  For the front I chose a big bold block-letter font in off-white, then gave it a red and a yellow shadow so it would stand out. I rasterized the font (turning it into a picture), and then used the tool to highlight the letters, and splashed some red blood-splatters on them. I did the same for the spine. (Though really what I should have done was copy the logo from the front and resize it. Silly me. Now the two logos don’t match.)  I used Unsplash.com for a few free photos that I quickly manipulated into a passable cover art. Ultimately, I would like to have something either professionally photographed, edited, or drawn, but what I found was vaguely similar enough to what I wanted that I figured it’d do for now.  Maybe the last thing I had to do (besides uploading it all to Lulu) was decide on a pen-name! I ended up going with L.A.Rayborn, instead of my legal name. I used my legal first two initials, but chose my birth surname (which is twice removed from my legal name, since I was first adopted and then married). To be perfectly honest, the reason I chose not to use my legal name is mostly because I don’t want to associate my in-laws with possibly-sensitive content that they probably wouldn’t like.  SO. Then it was done, and I uploaded it to Lulu, and chose a few options on the site, such as cream pages instead of white, and matte exterior finish instead of gloss. (I highly suggest the cream for novels, but the matte is really just personal preference.) I paid them (I ended up getting it printed and shipped to me for under $20), and then about 2 weeks later I had the 400 page darling in my hands, ready to be eviscerated with a set of neon hi-lighters!  After this current round of edits, I already know there’s a ton of stuff I’m going to have to fix (and this is to say nothing of the story).  1. The font is slightly too large, but could probably use a 1.5 or maybe 1.2 spacing between lines. I’ll have to fiddle with it, and see what others do.  2. The back cover text is too close to the edges to really look good.  3. The page numbering just looks odd for some reason.  4. Figure out how to get the page numbers to stay off the copyright and dedications page, etc.  5. MORE THAN ANYTHING, I need to change the... I’m not even sure what to call it? I need to make the text space out evenly so that it creates a block on each page, rather than creating messy ridges on the right margins. I didn’t even think of this until I got the book and started comparing it to professional books I’ve read and enjoyed. It seems like a very rookie mistake. 

(lol I’m in the process of changing the main character’s name, which is why the crappy MS Paint edits.)  PHEW, that was long. But hopefully my journey was at least a little insightful. Please do let me know if you have any thoughts, questions, or suggestions about how I could better format the book for the “real” printing! 

[quicksilverlightning]

The Interview, Ch. 3

It was a few days before he looked up the web address she had given him, caught up as he was with work at the school. It was a lazy Saturday morning when Toshinori popped open his laptop and typed into the search bar.

He found her blog easily enough and clicked on the link where he was greeted by a familiar photo; himself, grinning, one arm around her shoulders as she lifted the camera with a shyly happy expression. Below, a short caption:

We aren't strangers anymore

along with a post recapping the day:

My first meeting with All Might was something of a disaster; thankfully, I managed to keep myself together for the second time! Having met the man twice now, I feel comfortable saying that he really is as nice as he's always seemed on television.

He clicks on the link in the first paragraph, curious about her take on the day they met. Most of the post is a simple recap for her readers, but the writing is interspersed with thoughts and diversions that offer surprising insights into her personality. It's easy to see why she has something of a following.

He was so kind; just being near him was giving me flashbacks to Kamino - something I still don't feel ready to write about - but he sat with me, letting me work it out of my system. He made me tea. I think it was chamomile.

Huh. So she was in Kamino Ward that night. It does explain a few things about the meeting. Obviously, it wasn't just nerves causing her to act so jumpy. He files the knowledge away for another time.

His hero form is something of a persona he puts on, but it's not exactly a mask - more like an exaggeration. The person is kind and brave and strong, while the hero is all those things taken to the extreme. It's a matter of intensity, not honesty.

That catches his eye, and leaves him a little breathless; he's seen the thinkpieces floating around, comparing his dual identities, but this is the first time someone has so clearly understood.

"Intensity, not honesty," he murmurs the phrase to himself.

I know a lot of the reactions have centered on things like "scarecrow" and "skeleton," but I was put more in mind of a sunflower.

Toshinori guffawed at that - skeleton he was used to, and scarecrow was understandable, but sunflower?

Tall, lanky, yellow hair, sunny disposition - I mean, it fits, right?

Sunflower. The descriptor wasn't one he would have ever thought of, but it did bring a glow to his chest. Yes, he could work with sunflower.

_______________________________________________

Direct message from: Sunflower220 It occurred to me after posting a few comments on your posts that I might need to send you a direct message. I suppose a sudden influx of comments from an anonymous stranger would look rather odd, yes? I don't want my behavior to be interpreted poorly, but your ordinary adventures are every bit as fascinating to me as my hero career must be to you.

It's been a long time since I was a civilian - even now, I occupy a unique place in society. My power is gone, but the fame remains. Seeing the world from the perspective of the people I protected through your posts was an absolute joy. I will, of course, back away if you wish it - I understand that the attention may be overbearing, even unnerving, and I don't wish to cause you any discomfort. Thank you for giving me this glimpse into your world.

Regards,

All Might

P.S. - I was absolutely tickled to be compared to a sunflower! I made it my username - do you like it?

Direct message to: Sunflower220 Thank you for the heads-up, but I don't mind at all! I'm glad you enjoy my ramblings. You've fought to protect us all for such a long time - if I can do anything in return, even this small joy, then that's enough heroism for me.

And I love your screen name! The 220 is for your height, right? It suits you!

Direct message from: Sunflower220 Ah, so you are a fan, to know my height so easily.

Direct message to: Sunflower220 Well, yes. Everyone's a fan of All Might, especially now.

Direct message from: Sunflower220 I must admit, I find myself bemused to still be so highly regarded by the world. I'm flattered that so many people still see me as a hero.

Direct message to: Sunflower220 Why? You are.

_______________________________________________ 

She cleaned my room while I was gone. Picked up the floor, vacuumed the rug, made the bed. The mess makes her grouchy, twitchy. But my mess and her mess are different creatures; hers are monsters to be conquered; mine are companions to be loved. A perfectly smooth river stone; ticket scraps to each concert; a woven basket crafted in Mexico. My bookshelves overflow and my floor is scuffed and my desk is covered in paint stains and each flaw is a memory and each mess is an experience. My rumpled bedsheets know the curve of my body; my shoes are always ready to walk  out the door; the bottom left drawer of my desk gets stuck, and I’m okay with that.  It’s fine. It’s secondhand, worn and loved, and does its job faithfully. And when it gets stuck, I only need to pull a little harder.

Comment from Sunflower220 You are so very gifted at capturing the magic in the ordinary; I'm honestly jealous! My desk only gets covered in paperwork.

Ah, thank you! I do have a proper desk for all kinds of paperwork, but this one was for my little art-stuff desk.

_______________________________________________

I had lost count of the stations. Was it seven, or eight coming up? There were no numbers on the platforms. I could feel the train beginning to slow down as the iron girders outside became less of a blur. The train stopped.

 I saw him then – that shock of white hair, shining between the shadows of people boarding the train. I stood up, making my way through, trying not to bump into anyone, or their luggage. The newcomers seated themselves quickly, like they knew exactly where they were meant to be. Like they had always been on this car.

 The whistle blew suddenly and I jumped, jerking my head to the window. Only Dios was left at the station, and the doors were still at the other end of the car. My stomach lurched – I had to get off, now. I pushed my way past, no longer mindful of tact; it was blocking my way. I jumped over a travel case; I think I may have elbowed someone. Something caught my foot and I fell, grabbing at a train pole to steady myself – my hands slid right down and I landed on my face. My stomach lurched again and I scrambled up, trying to kick off the handbag loop my shoe was caught in. The lady in her seat didn’t even look up from her hands.

 I heard the train hissing as the steam began to build. I looked up – Dios had rushed up the platform, right to the door.

 “Get off the train!” Another hiss as the pneumatic doors began to close. I kicked off my shoe, tripping again, trying to reach the end of the car, too late. My hands slammed against the window. Dios looked at me briefly from the other side, and disappeared suddenly as the train lurched. I fell for the third time in as many minutes, just catching a glimpse of white hair running to the engine car.

 Comment from Sunflower220

Well?! PLEASE tell me there's more to this story. What happens next?!

I don't know! That's as far as my dream got before I woke up!

  _______________________________________________

I'm not suggesting that Endeavor can reproduce asexually, but has anyone ever actually seen his wife?

Comment from Sunflower220

I wish I could simply laugh this off, but, unfortunately, I have not.

_______________________________________________

Bit of bronchitis. That's what I get for waiting so long to go to the doctor I guess. Thankfully, it wasn't very advanced and I'm largely out of the woods after two weeks of illness, even if I did cough so hard I made myself vomit today. That was a new experience, let me tell you. I didn't go to bed until 7am this morning, so my sleep schedule is once again shot to hell. I went to eat breakfast, then went to bed. I've got a few days of antibiotics left, and I'm on a steroid I have to take very 12 hours. Still a bit sensitive to light, but I think my headaches are gone.

 Comment from Sunflower220

I feel a little silly commenting on a post that's years old now, but this is so relatable to me. Late nights, out-of-sync circadian rhythm, the coughing - believe me, you can vomit up much worse from coughing like that.

You don't have to feel awkward about commenting - I like it! It's like getting a little reminder every now and then. I actually haven't had bronchitis since his post, so that's something to be grateful for ^^ I'll take your word for it about the coughing though.

_______________________________________________

The poetry professor doesn’t look like she’s from Kentucky; she doesn’t look like anyone from below the Mason-Dixon Line with her high heels, patterned stockings and lion’s mane of blonde corkscrews. But sometimes she talks about Momma, chicken wire fences, and bare feet summers and maybe I could see her in scraped-knee jeans instead of pencil skirts.

Throat cancer took his hair, but not his brain, nor his chipper attitude. He strides long, like a black-necked stilt of his native Louisiana, and whistles like a fox sparrow underneath his fedora. His classes lay cuckoo eggs in our ears that hatch into vague feelers of ideas, burrowed somewhere in the unconscious until we collage it with the other wreckages of forgotten memory patterns that sleep in nests made of mirror shards and Christmas lights.

The education professor is a whirlwind of high energy and charisma on his best days. Lately though, his blue, Pilot ballpoint pens are running empty, ink pooling in messy splotches on ungraded essays. The strain of two positions, teacher and administrator, gets to him. His exhaustion makes me tired; to see the vitality being siphoned out of his slender frame by the routine wear and tear that has faded his two-button jackets, frayed his loose shoelaces, and settled, like those last drops of ink, into the hollows under his eyes, until a good night’s sleep bleeds the lakebed dry.

Comment from Sunflower220 Were these were all teachers of yours? The descriptions are so real.

Yes! I butted heads with the poetry professor all the time; I hated her classes, but I had to take them for my degree.

I sympathize with the education professor - I too find myself exhausted after a day of dealing with students.

He's one of my best friends - we're still close, years after I graduated.

That's wonderful! I hope I can say the same thing about my students in the future!

_______________________________________________

What kind of tree is Kamui Woods supposed to be anyway? Oak? Willow? Ash? Cedar? THE WORLD NEEDS ANSWERS!

Comment from Sunflower220

I'm partial to cedar trees myself! That said, I have no idea.

I love cedar trees! They smell divine. But my favorites are willow trees and cypress trees - I love cypress roots.

Is there something special about the roots?

Yes! Cypress trees that grow in swampy areas have these "knee" roots. It's probably easier to look it up than to explain.

I see! It does look rather strange, all the roots poking up through the water.

It's neat though, right? There's a mountain trail I used to hike as a kid that went past loads of cypress trees. We used to balance walking on them, and played in the hollow trunks. Once, I saw a wild snapping turtle on the other side of the bank, so that was pretty cool.

_______________________________________________

There's this thing I do when I stay up late; I get more and more tired the later I stay up, but, if I make it past a certain point, usually about 4AM, I can stay up indefinitely. I say indefinitely because I don't actually know how far I could go - I've never been brave enough to really press it. Anyway, I couldn't sleep Sunday night/Monday morning. Could. Not. Sleep. Around 4:30AM, I realize it's not happening and get up. My legs were bothering me for some reason, so I hit the gym for 20, 30 minutes. Still not tired. Hop in the car for a drive. Still not tired. Keep driving and somehow end up some thirty miles away watching the sun rise at 7AM over the river.

 It's about 8AM by the time I leave and not only am I not tired, I'm actually feeling kinda invigorated and excited about life. I suspect I was high on the lucidity of no sleep, but nevertheless. I'm still not tired, so I go to a local cafe for a buttermilk spice muffin and a hot chocolate.

 Finally got home around 9 or so and went back to bed because I didn't know what else to do with myself.

 Comment from Sunflower220

I've had many a night like this, though it usually had more to do with adrenaline than anything else. I can honestly say that not having to deal with that anymore is one good thing about retiring.

At least you had a reason to be awake; just being up for no good reason sucks. Usually I can manage to get down eventually, but something like this seems to happen to me at least once a year.

It could be worse; there could be nightmares instead.

I've become familiar with that in the last few months.

_______________________________________________

A conversation with my former professor:

"I don't even remember what it was like being 29. I think it was miserable." "It is. Just gonna be miserable for the rest of my days." "It gets better when you're 30. And it gets better again when you're 40. By the time you're 50 - " "Is that what you tell yourself to comfort the blows of old age?" "Yes. I'm comforting myself right now."

Comment from Sunflower220

Is this the same teacher from that one post I commented on?

Yes! The education professor. We try to chat on the phone at least once a week.

You're making me excited about teaching! I want to have a relationship like this with my students one day. They're going to be great heroes.

They have a great hero to learn from.

_______________________________________________

The universe hates me. I sincerely believed it in that moment. It hates me.  Only a hateful universe gives you a perfect moment when you’re that miserable.

But maybe it made it up to me later. Halfway home, past Conway, I start getting close to the rain I’ve been expecting and up ahead it’s all stormclouds. The sky is this dark blue grey color and the lightning is this creamy off white shade – you could see it lighting up between the clouds and behind them, undulating back and forth and then bolting in a sudden release of energy like birds startled by a gunshot. The bigger flashes were a purer white with a soft blue tinge. They were the ones that lit up the whole sky.

So I’m home free, crossing the river and halfway across the bridge the rain just stops. It picks up again when I get across, but in that halfway point I’ve got lightning on one side and the last smoky traces of dusk on the other stretching out like a painted desert and I’m the only person on the bridge, watching the world split in two.

Comment from Sunflower220

Have you ever considered writing screenplays? I can see this image in my head like a film reel. It's beautiful and dramatic.

I've always loved finding the place where the rain stops; it's like the world is a little bit thinner there. It's a strange, almost unnerving feeling, but one I've chased in the past.

I think what you may looking for is called liminality, or a liminal space. Places like airports, crossroads, rest stops, hallways - they're bridges to other places, but don't really serve a purpose in and of themselves. Places of transition from one thing to the next.

Historically, the concept of liminality has been used to describe rites of passage, especially the passage from childhood to adulthood. Many cultures have some sort of ceremony the child has to go through before coming out the other side as an adult. But, in the time between starting and finishing the ritual, the person is considered neither child nor adult - they exist in a liminal state until the ritual is complete.

Now that I think about it, you're probably pretty familiar with liminality, aren't you?

_______________________________________________

Direct message from: Sunflower220

Sorry for the radio silence - I didn't mean to drop off so suddenly, and then it turned into a few days.

I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About liminality. You're right - I am very familiar with the concept, though I never had a name for it until now. You wrote once that the difference between my forms was "a matter of intensity, not honesty;" in six words, you captured something I've never been able to explain. You do did it so succinctly, so effortlessly, that it left me a little bit stunned.

I have been All Might for so long; in many ways, I'm re-learning how to live without that intensity. I understand liminality because I've been in a liminal state for going on six years now. To finally have a name for it feels like a relief. More than that though, it's immensely gratifying to feel understood, by what you captured so easily in half a phrase. I'm grateful to you. Thank you.

The day we met, you told me that you didn't want to be someone else that took something from me. But I'd like to give you something all the same:

My name is Toshinori.

[xbananaleensyo]

“I love you” call

Ship: Ohmtoonz

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking

Words: 3,755

Summary: Ohm loved Cartoonz but he doesn’t know. One day, however, Ohm gets drunk and tries to call a certain someone. Aka Ohm is a fluffy, loving drunk and doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fic I’ve ever made and I’m pretty proud of it : ) So, thank you for reading it and I really appreciate any likes/reblogs/comments! Have a nice day, yo.

              Ohm wasn’t much of a drinker. It just wasn’t something he did much. Sure, he had the occasional glass of wine at dinner parties and the mandatory swig of beer during the Super Bowl but that was all for show. He never really indulged too far into it. He felt, at most, slightly warm from the minimal consumption and can’t remember the last time he truly was drunk. But it seemed tonight was different.

              Ohm tipped the bartender and sipped at the bottle of beer he just ordered. He scanned the ballroom, spotting the couple of the night instantly. It wasn’t hard to find them, their presence radiated happiness, true love flush on their cheeks and gentle stares. Ohm couldn’t help the throbbing sensation in his chest. It was accompanied by a slow southern drawl and cheeky grin that tended to occupy his mind, especially in moments like these. He looked at the newly-wedded couple and wanted it, wanted what they had so badly instead of this longing ache. Ohm sighed, loosening the tie on his neck, before taking a gulp of his drink and joining his peers in another round of shots.

              “Bye! Thank you for bringing me home, dude! I appreciate you and your service.” Ohm yelled back at the uber before shutting the door and walking the steps to his front porch. He searched his pocket for his keys, reminding himself out loud that he needed to give his driver 5 stars and a good review. She was a nice woman, entertaining Ohm’s drunk rambles during the late night drive. He was suddenly glad he decided to carpool to the wedding venue that morning because, based on the slight stumbles up his yard, he can assess that he was in no way, shape, or form able to drive himself home, Heck, he couldn’t even find the right keys to his door.

              “There you are!” Ohm cooed, giggling as he slotted in the key to let him in. Right when he walked through the door, he was greeted with excited paws batting at his ankles and welcoming yips. Ohm was beaming at the sight.

              “Tiny! You’re such a good boy! I love you so much.” He said while carefully kneeling and cuddling the pup.

              “I’m very drunk, Tiny. So we can’t—we can’t play a lot. But just wanted to let you know that I love you and you’re the best.” Ohm sent Tiny back to his doggy bed after one last pat on his back. He decided that it probably wasn’t a good idea to let Tiny sleep in the bed with him tonight. Ohm closed his bedroom door and plopped on his mattress, somehow taking off his shoes and dress pants on the way. He should sleep he thinks but the alcohol was still running hyper in his veins causing him to feel energized and elated and fuzzy. He felt so goddamn warm, honestly. Like he was so happy and wanted to share the happiness with everyone else. And he should. There was so many good people in his life that deserved it and when was the last time he told them how much he loved them? Not enough! He concluded, already taking out his phone out of his vest pocket. He silently thanked technology for having fingerprint recognition.

    Ohm went to twitter first, sending out a quick appreciation post to his fans and followers. Then, to his discord, giving out short but meaningful messages to as many streamer and YouTube friends he can think of. Next, it was his contact list on his phone where he kept the closer people in his life. These were the ones he was gonna spoil with love. Ohm sighed with satisfaction when he hit send on Delirious’ text, stacked with paragraphs on how much he helped him over the years. He went back to his list, finally stumbling on the contact that made his heart burst:

Toonzy <3

              Ohm’s thumbs froze over the screen, not quite sure how to start the text. There was just so many things he loved about Cartoonz—which ones should he say first? Can written text even convey all the things he wanted to say? Can he even type all the love he had for him? Perhaps, he should call him instead.

              “Hi Toonzy!” Ohm greeted excitedly right after the ringer broke. There was silence on the other line though before another voice spoke up.

              “Uhh Ohm? This is Delirious?” Ohm mentally slapped himself, wondering how in the world he messed that one up. But looking at the blurry name on his screen, he can confirm he was, in fact, talking to Delirious. Oh well.

              “Oh…oh! Delirio~ Sorry, I tried calling Toonzy. I wanted to tell him some things.” Ohm thought for a second. Even if it was an accident, he shouldn’t let this call go to waste, right?

              “But-but, wait, don’t hang up yet Delirious! I wanna let you know some nice things too. Because, because lemme tell ya. You, you, are a wonderful man and I’m glad you’re in my life. I love you and…and you deserve all the love!” Ohm heard Delirious’ happy laughter on the other end, pleased that the other enjoyed his declaration.

              “Awww, thanks Ohm. I know, I saw the text messages. Love you too man, really, and I appreciate ya but are you uhhh are you drunk?”

              “Nooo I’m not drunk. I’m really drunk.” He answered, extending the ‘really’ for extra effect. He laughed at his own joke. “There was a wedding Delirio~ my…my sister’s. And it was beautiful! There was decorations and cake and good food and dancing and an open bar…” Ohm chuckled again, remembering the open bar quite well. An amazing add-on to an already amazing wedding.

              “My sister has incredible taste, Del. It, it was nature-themed! There was lots of flowers and leaves. Trees. And…and it made me realize I want a wedding like that…” And at that moment, Ohm made a mistake. He couldn’t stop his rambling, his mouth wanting to say everything on his mind. His feelings were going a completely different direction now and he felt tears starting to collect in his eyes. “But I don’t think I can! I definitely can’t.”

              Delirious seemed surprised by the mood change. He scrambled to find his words before speaking. “Ohm ca—calm down! I’m sure, I’m sure you’ll have a beau-ti-ful wedding with nice flowers and gifts and food! Don’t cry please!” Ohm shook his head even though he knew Delirious couldn’t see him.

              “Nooo you don’t understand Jon! I’m gay!” Ohm cried out, trying to make a point through his fuzzy mind. But it seemed Delirious wasn’t having it.

              “Uhhh Ohm, we know that already? You told us that like…like last year? And we fully support you and that doesn’t fucking mean, at all, that you can’t have a—”

              “No, no listen. You don’t understand. Jon, I’m gay gay. Like…like I’m gay for someone. But I don’t think he’s gay gay for me? Delirious, Cartoonz doesn’t feel the same way, huh?” he felt the ache in his heart again, letting a few tears slide down his cheeks.

              “Car-cartoonz?” Delirious sputtered. Ohm gave a long sigh.

              “Yeah…Toonzy. He’s funny and genuine and attractive and just gets me, ya know? I just wanna kiss him all the time and cuddle him and…and go on dates with him and touch him and fu—”

              “Jesus Christ.” Delirious breath. “You can’t just…just…hold on. Can you hold on? Hold on a sec, Ohm.” Then Delirious was gone. There was a lot of shuffling and mumbling in the background that he couldn’t understand. But before he could figure out what was going on, Delirious was back.

              “Okay, can you say that again, Ohm?”

              “I wanna fuck Cartoonz!” He declared, hearing more shuffling along with a sharp gasp and ‘not like that!’ protests coming from Del. Maybe, that wasn’t the exact phrase he was looking for. “No, no wait…make love with Cartoonz. Yeah, that. I love Luke. But not like…I love you Delirious but I’m uhhh in love with Luke. For a long time now. He’s, he’s amazing~ And I love spending time with him. But he doesn’t love me…why would he love me…? His insecurities were starting to leak out. Because it’s true. Why would Luke ever like him in a way that was more than a friend?

              “For fucksakes why…look, Ohm, I have a good feeling that Luke loves you back. You’re a great guy, don’t be so down on yourself. He’ll be lucky to have you.”

              Ohm shifted his weight to the side, his voice quieter than before. “How do you know that?”

              “I just have a very, very strong feeling.”

              “But why would he—”

              “Ryan, just please trust me here, okay?” Delirious pleads. He jumps at the sudden name-drop. Jonathon never calls him by his real name. He also never sounded so conclusive before.

              “Okay Jon, I’ll try.” He yawns, finally starting to feel the night catch up with him. But he can’t sleep yet.

              “You should probably go to sleep, man.”

              “But Toonzy…I gotta call…” he yawns again.

              “Tomorrow dude. Better if you’re sober and n-not about to pass out.”

              “But…Yeah…true…I’m sleepy.” Ryan starts to close his eyes as he says those words. He tries to relax through the spinning in his head. It feels like a whole minute has passed of him breathing into the mic and he assumes Delirious already left the call.

              “Good night, Ohm…”

              He barely hears the quiet murmur at the end. Ohm’s interest piqued as it sounds kinda off. It was huskier. Deeper. Ohm almost forgot who he was talking to. But it wasn’t enough to break the tiredness that was closing in on him. Ohm’s body starts to slack, he vaguely feels the thump of his phone as it falls on the bed. His thoughts float in his head, drunk, but specifically drunk on Cartoonz. Memories of hefty laughs, long beards, and southern accents filled his mind before finally settling into sleep.

               The morning after sucked. Ohm groans, finally remembering this being a big reason why he didn’t drink much. This part is utter crap.

              “I hate myself. I fucking hate myself.” Ohm mumbles, covering his arm over his eyes. He forgot to pull his blinds so the sunlight he usually loved to greet was glaring at his mistakes. His head throbbed, noting that he was still in his dress shirt, suit jacket half-on but was pantless somehow. His mouth was dry and tasted like alcohol and regrets. Suddenly, he heard Tiny bark in the livingroom signifying that there was someone in the house. But before Ohm can process if he was getting robbed or not, his gut fails him and he rushes himself to the bathroom.

              “Ohm? You okay in there, bud?” Ohm hears through the knocking on his door and his loud heaving sounds. He recognizes the voice to be Cartoonz and is glad that he decided to give him that extra key.

              “Yeah, I’m just, shit—” another round rises up his throat. Ohm is gripping the toilet bowl for dear life as whatever contents start spilling through. He doesn’t notice Cartoonz next to him until he feels hands on his shoulder, massaging his back sympathetically.

              “Goddamn Ohm, you got absolutely fucked up. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

              “Well, nothing is in me now…” Ohm says weakly. Grabbing a towel to wipe off the excess residue off his mouth. He leans on his bathtub, relieved that he can finally breathe. Cartoonz hands him a water bottle which he gladly used to gargle his mouth with before taking two big gulps.

              “So, what brings you here, Toonzy?” Ohm asks. Though he’s not complaining that he did show up, Ohm knows Luke isn’t the type of guy to come in unannounced.

              “Jonathon texted me this morning. Said your dumb hungover ass needed some assistance, probably. Just think of me as your Alcohol Poisoning Rescue Squad.” He patted the bag he was carrying to capitalize his status. That was probably how he got the water so fast.

              “Now come here, child, and lets get you all cleaned up!” Cartoonz hollered, helping him get up and escorting him to the sink.

              Ohm just rolled his eyes. “We’re practically the same age, Cartoonz.” But Cartoonz ignored him, opting to the kitchen to probably make food. Ohm looked at himself in the mirror, hissing at his reflection. He felt like shit and looked like shit. That was great. He got to work, brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower to scrub off the grime of last night. Once he was washed and changed into fresh clothes, he felt a lot better than before.

              “Pedialyte?” Ohm questioned as he entered the diningroom to find a plate of scrambled eggs waiting for him as well as some pills, a glass of water, and a bottle of Pedialyte.

              “Yeah. Del’s recommendation. I don’t drink much so I can’t say but Del swore by that stuff when he did. Oh, here’s your coffee too, by the way.” Cartoonz places a hot mug beside him, the familiar smell wafting through the air. “Made it how you like it too: disgustingly sweet and undrinkable.” He wrinkles his nose at the thought.

              “No, you’re just a barbarian and drink it straight black. What sane person drinks it straight black?” Ohm retorts, blowing at his drink to cool it down. He will fight for his sweet-tasting coffee to the death.

              “Agree to disagree.” Cartoonz huffs, settling in the chair next to him with his own plate and cup. They ate their food in comfortable silence. Cartoonz hummed and scrolled through his phone while Ohm picked at his eggs. He tried to recall what he did last night, memories of bouquets and shots filled his mind. Then he got home (somehow) and wobbled to his bed. He texted people, he thinks, and he hopes to god that it was nothing too embarrassing. And then he remembers he was talking to someone…didn’t he call Delirious?

              Ohm dropped his fork in realization. He did. He admitted his crush to Delirious. And Delirious sent Cartoonz over here. What in the heck…

              “You okay there, Ohm?” Cartoonz asked. Ohm didn’t realize he was staring at him. He picked up his fork and cleared his throat.

              “Yeah, I’m fine Toonzy. Just thinking through this headache, no worries.” Despite the reassurance, Cartoonz arches his eyebrow.

              “Are you sure…? I mean, there’s just something that’s been bugging me and I really should ask.” Cartoonz sighs, setting his phone down on the table. “Ryan, you don’t usually drink, especially get wasted, is there something wrong? And don’t tell me that ‘it was a wedding’ shit. ‘Cause we’ve been to plenty of parties before and you never had more than a bottle or two. You even told me it just wasn’t your scene. You can tell me if there’s something wrong.”

              Ohm couldn’t help his stomach fluttering a bit at Cartoonz’s concern. Any delicate attention Luke gave him made it flutter and this time, despite being hungover, made no difference. Of course, Luke was the one to spot the slight intention of his actions. That his night of binge drinking wasn’t just from the atmosphere of celebration. Luke knew him well, Luke could read him. Another reason why he was so in love with the damn guy.

              Ohm groaned, wondering how he was gonna tell the truth but not at the same time. He wasn’t gonna lie but he was also not gonna confess. Sober him was still unsure about Delirious’ observation last night. He wanted to trust him but he needed time to think about it, digest it, and besides, he didn’t feel well enough to try anyways.

              “No? Yes? I-I don’t know Cartoonz. I guess, I just got carried away and lost it.” Ohm sighs, pushing his hair back and leaning back on his chair. “The first drink was out of courtesy. The second drink was with peers. The third drink was because of the YouTube algorithm and the rest after that was…” Ohm closed his eyes, thinking about the pain in his chest at the wedding, a pain that was too familiar in his life. “…was my stupidness, honestly. I was being stupid. I love my sister, Toonz, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for her and her husband. I cried at the ceremony. But…but she’s my younger sister, Toonz. By a good chunk too and, I don’t know. I couldn’t help but feel so jealous and, and lonely and—” wanting you. Ohm shook his head, feeling a wave of nausea when doing so, pushing it down along with his heartbroken feelings. It was hard being so in love when he knew he wasn’t suppose to be. He wanted what his sister had at that moment, to love who his heart desired freely. But he was too much of a coward and so drank way more than he should’ve to forget the fact.

              “I have a good feeling that Luke loves you back.” Delirious’ voice echoes in his mind. But that’s impossible.

              Suddenly, Ohm’s hands are being grabbed and placed on Luke’s lap. His eyes are sad looking at Ohm’s but they weren’t filled with pity like Ohm expected. They were filled with something soft that he couldn’t pin point.

              “I’m so sorry, Ohm. I wish you didn’t feel that way. But I get it. I fucking get that feeling. You have no idea. And it sucks. I even thought I was just going to live with the feeling, get use to it. Just for the sake of it.” Cartoonz’s thumb started rubbing the side of his hand, obviously nervous about the next thing he was about to say. He brought their hands closer so they laid on the base of Cartoonz’s chest. Ohm was a little surprised by the gesture. He could feel the man’s rapid pulse beating under his palms. “But that changed, I think. I hope it changed. I feel like I have a chance now when a little drunk bunny called last night…” Cartoonz smirked at Ohm’s confused look while he ransacked his memories. He didn’t call him and just didn’t remember, did he?

              “What do you mean by…”

              “…while I was in a certain idiot’s livingroom…”

              “No. He didn’t. He—”

              “…and was put on speaker phone…”

              “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Ohm proposed, feeling the vibration of Cartoonz’s chuckle. His face was hot from embarrassment and shame. But soon was hot from something else.

              “I love you too, Ryan. So fucking much it’s ridiculous. I thought I was saving our friendship by not telling you. I didn’t think we could be more than that and, god, I’m really hoping that what you said last night wasn’t just some drunken dare. Because I don’t think I can handle it if it was just some joke.”

              Ohm shakes his head and pulls his hands back along with Luke’s. He presses Luke’s knuckles against his lips, letting it linger before speaking.

              “I meant every word of it. There’s no joke. I’ll even say it again sober: I’m in love with you Luke for who knows how long and…I want the chance to show you that.”

              Ohm couldn’t believe this was happening. It was surreal how fast it happened, how random it was. He couldn’t breathe but at the same time his lungs never felt so free. He wrapped himself around Luke’s neck, leaning in closer to kiss the lips he’s only dreamt about, but when said man pushes him away with a grin on his face, Ohm couldn’t help but question what was going on.

              “Look, Ohm, I love you and all and god do I want you, but I just watched you throw up buckets of puke a second ago. I am NOT kissing you right now.”

              “But, but I brushed and rinsed Toonzy! Twice!” Ohm pouted, crossing his arms at the rejection.

              “Nope, still disgusting. Not happening.” He patted Ohm’s head.

              “That’s rude, Toonzy. That was like the perfect fanfic moment, I’ll have you know.” Cartoonz just shrugged.

              “What about take me on a date and then we’ll see about the kissing.”

              “Oh. There’ll definitely be kissing.” Ohm said, lowering his voice so it was smooth as velvet. Ohm hummed in success when he caught Cartoonz biting his lip.

              “Okay, Ohm, can you stop being a creep and eat your goddamn eggs.” Ohm reached out, however, not wanting the moment to end just yet.

              “Wait, what time are you free? To take you out, I mean.”

              “Does tomorrow sound fine? I have to do some recording with Del in the morning but I can catch dinner.” Ohm scanned his schedule in his head, happy he was due to record in the afternoon.

              “That’s perfect.”

              “You’re perfect.” Cartoonz said, giving a quick peck on his forehead. Ohm sighed into the kiss, leaning his head on his shoulder to try to engulf himself in Cartooonz’s embrace. He wanted as much of him as he can get. He needed to catch up somehow.

              “You know, I can’t be mad at Delirious if this is the result. I know his intentions were good and he knew we just needed a catalyst but I still want to kinda punch him in the face, ya know? Maybe just the shoulder. But only just a tiny little bit.”

              “Oh, I’m way ahead of you. No one breaks your trust on my watch.” Cartoonz takes out his phone to show him a picture of a sleeping Delirious. In it, Delirious seems to be cuddling an owl-shaped Teddy Bear that Ohm recognizes as the birthday gift Vanoss gave to him a couple years back. Ohm notices that the picture was from a message thread between Cartoonz and Vanoss himself with a caption that said: He sleeps like this every night. Take this as you will.

              Ohm cracks up, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s amazing but savage. They’re both going to have a heart attack. You’re unbelievable.”

              “But you love me.” Cartoonz says, lacing their fingers together.

              “Yes, I do. And you love me?”

              “Yes, I absolutely do.”

[niennavalier]

Okay I wasn’t planning on doing a DS9 rant post but here it is, under the cut in case I get annoying about DS9 and romance and Julian in particular

Okay, so I swear, the writers went into the show with this idea that Julian Bashir was gonna be this fresh-out-of-med-school brilliant, attractive doctor with charm to spare and something like this ladies’ man kinda attitude. Maybe (hopefully) not that sleazy, but still. And then it didn’t really work in season 1 in regards to Jadzia, so they dropped that storyline (thank fuck).

But then it’s so weird when I think they’re trying to kinda keep it alive through the show, except it literally never really works quite right? Even though the DS9 writers are legitimately good with writing the other romances on the show?? Kira and Odo? Absolutely adorable, I would die for them. Jadzia and Worf? Who would’ve that that’d work? Not me! But I’d die for them too!

(Yes, all of these characters have other romantic interests at times, some good - like Lenara Kahn - and others less so - Bareil is really boring and Lwaxana Troi DID NOT need to be there - but they also get these fantastic long-term stories)

Meanwhile, for my favorite doctor? I might be missing some but here’s what I could think of whilst typing: Melora was...sorta forgettable (I forgot about the episode until I was just scrolling through all of them). Technically fine but...forgettable. Leeta...honestly I never understood this pairing. I legitimately don’t remember ever seeing them get together on screen; best I recall, they were just together one day and we were supposed to just accept it. Which...whatever, I’m not a fan, and this pairing did nothing for either of them. Serena, I actually liked; they were cute together in that one episode, but at the same time I’m torn because I truly believe the writers made the right choice in that she had to experience the world for herself. For all the cuteness, I much prefer her discovering her own self-worth and think that’s better for her as her own character.

And then. There’s Dax. The first couple seasons? Awkward as fuck. No thanks. But then him and Jadzia become like, best science buddies! And he painfully third-wheels for her date with Lenara in Rejoined! And it’s like “wow now that’s true friendship right there”. And I loved that relationship so much! We watched Julian grow up a lot since the pilot, and honestly, him becoming best friends with Jadzia matched that change really well. Going from this kinda juvenile crush and strange persistence to a much more mature friendship. I mean, there’s one episode (which I can’t place at the moment) where there’s some crisis on the station and they’re hiding somewhere, she’s hurt, and they’re both freezing. And he’s holding her, and she makes some comment on how past-him would’ve used this as an opportunity to try and spark something between them. But present-him isn’t like that anymore, and watching as the audience, there truly isn’t weird romantic tension between them. It’s intimacy and familiarity and comfort without the weight of romance. And it’s perfect.

But then all of a sudden, the back half of season 6 starts happening, and apparently he’s always loved her? And it’s like...where did this come from?? You were doing so well, writers, what happened?? It just...suddenly brought back all the awkwardness of season 1, except at least this time, he’s not acting on it. So instead it’s just weirdly angsty and 100% out of left field. (Also Quark loves her, which is random but less concerning to me cause at least it wasn’t reviving an abandoned plot point, like with Julian) (The Quark point isn’t relevant, but I just felt like saying it)

And that whole thing just put the biggest pit in my stomach, cause I knew about Ezri joining them in season 7 and I was just like “nooo pleeeease don’t get him together with Ezri”

Apparently I just live to be disappointed.

Full disclosure, I actually haven’t fully watched the scene where they get together, but my roommate did end up coming upon a scene of them together in bed, and I’m not that stupid. Bonus: I’m about 6 away from the end, and that in itself is kinda concerning, because now I’m double concerned that it’s gonna be rushed even worse than I thought it would. Because, as of now, she has had barely any contact with Julian, outside of just being part of the senior staff (aka being a main character). I can honestly only actively remember them having one conversation, which just existed for her to say that if Worf hadn’t shown up, then Jadzia would’ve chosen Julian. Which...okay...what now? Worf didn’t show up until season 5, wtf is this about? If Jadzia was actually in love with Julian, she would’ve done something about it. Jadzia Dax is NOT passive about what she wants, and it’s what makes her such a joy to watch. She’s even willing to act against her own culture out of her love for Lenara, despite hesitation because yeah, that’s a lot of risk. She’s willing to leave her friends to be with the dude she met in that weird world that blipped between universes. She acts with her heart and without fear, even in situations where there are barriers stopping her from doing what she wants. There was never such a barrier with her and Julian, so yeah, no, if she’d wanted him - truly wanted him - she would’ve gone for it.

The scene only exists for them to try and justify putting him together with Ezri, and it SUCKS on every conceivable level.

(Also yes, I know they have some other, normal conversations, but they’re never particularly interesting or impactful, so I don’t remember them, and that probably says something in and of itself)

For one, their lack of conversation and just...general shared screentime is so small that I can’t buy the idea that the two of them actually know each other that well. Even if they did bond off-screen, thus far, the show itself never actually gives any evidence of that while they ARE on screen. They have the same level of chemistry that Julian and Kira should have (although, strangely, the characters have much better chemistry than their screentime would seem to indicate but...well they were married IRL so...yeah). Friendly colleagues, but that’s really it. And yet, he’s gonna fall in love with her?

I don’t think so.

He’s in love with Jadzia (apparently. but that’s a different complaint, seen above). He’s in love with a past life of the Dax symbiont. That past life just happens to be contained now within Ezri, and it’s the only conceivable reason I have for why he’s interested in her at all. Realistically, had Ezri Tegan never become Ezri Dax, I doubt Julian would’ve had the same thoughts about her. Granted, people can meet by circumstance and fall in love - I’m not shitting on that idea - and I’m not implying that Julian is a dick by any means, but the show itself doesn’t give us any reason that he would fall for her. Like...what traits of Ezri does Julian find himself attracted to, aside from the fact she was once Jadzia? I don’t think the show ever actually gives any answer to that question. She may carry some shades of Jadzia’s habits and idiosyncrasies and such, because that’s how joined Trill work, but she’s also very much still Ezri. And, for the sake of her character, that should be really important? So, frankly, it’s actually just...really insulting to Ezri? That she’s not loved for who she is, but who the Dax host was. And that’s honestly just awful.

And I actually just thought of this while writing this post and complaining about that one conversation, but it also sucks for Julian a bit, too? Like, the way Ezri phrases that one line - “If Worf hadn’t come along, it would’ve been you” - it feels to me like he was very much the second choice. And...would that not feel awful to be told that? Basically that you were someone else’s back-up plan. I mean, I can’t speak from experience, but I can’t imagine that feels good. And plus, now he knows that Jadzia apparently had those feelings for him, which Ezri now carries with her. Which...wouldn’t something about that just feel wrong? These aren’t Ezri’s feelings exactly; she’s just stuck with them. And Julian is fundamentally a good person who has some idea of how the Trill work; wouldn’t this be a little like he’s...not quite using her, but allowing her to act on feelings that aren’t actually, truly hers? So the situation ends up being that she might not really love him, not as Ezri, and that would really suck for both of them.

Granted, that’s not to say she couldn’t decide that on her own; she totally could, but the show hasn’t laid the groundwork for that. And it’s also not to discredit feelings that linger from past hosts. Jadzia and Lenara are drawn to each other because of Torias and Neilani, but they also do legitimately fall in love with the people they are now and bond over their shared interests in their present forms. Honestly, the show even makes this distinction? When Ezri and Worf are stuck together, they definitely sleep together, but the show makes it fairly clear that it’s pent up tension from the two of them not talking, combined with the fact he and Jadzia were newly married. I’m pretty sure they decide it’s not really something to pursue; it was just what happened out of old instincts, not out of actual love between the two people actually involved.

Mostly, I take issue because of the first sentence of that last paragraph. The show just never sets it up. If it showed her and Julian having chemistry, I’d have far fewer complaints about this. (For fuck’s sake, I think she had a deeper conversation with JORAN. THE MURDERER. Than she really did with Julian. Now that’s a problem)

Long story short: they really shouldn’t have kept trying to shoe-horn romance in for Julian. All of his stories work better without, particularly in the long-term. The chemistry is just...never there with his long-term potential partners the writers throw at him. He really does have the best chemistry with Miles and Garak. That’s all fantastic.

(Which is to also say: I get that it was the 90s but I really wish we could’ve gotten our disaster bi doctor and his lizard spy boyfriend. Just saying)

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life - #59

         WELL. It's been about a donkey's age since I've been able to update this. Normally I'd apologize for the wait…but…well, honestly, I've been beating myself up enough as it is and it's not like it happened out of the blue. Kinda-brief update for anyone wondering:            I've warned about an impending grief hiatus since my uncle Bob's cancer diagnosis, and the hiatus came to pass in December. Uncle Bob finally lost his fight to cancer after two years of treatment and fading. The end came on rather suddenly but after the deathwatch he went peacefully and without pain. His death really messed me up, especially since I was already suffering from depression. Our first Christmas without Bob was also our last Christmas with Granny Chance, his mother and my grandmother…she suffered a massive stroke in January and died soon afterward. In the space of a month, my family and I lost two members, one right after the other. In a word, the whole situation has been FUCKED and it's still not completely over. There are good days, and bad days…and, to quote a certain Del Toro film, "Then there are the really bad days." Between those, we're all slowly working our way through the fallout and healing process.            This chapter is the first I've been able to finish since SEPTEMBER, largely because all of my stories are currently in plot-required angsty-dramatic phases and I CANNOT WRITE SAD SCENES when I'm depressed. It's entirely IMPOSSIBLE, they always come out farcical or they just don't flow. It SUCKS. TBH, I don't know for certain if I'm going to be able to catch up to my previous writing abilities or pace anytime soon but I'm certainly going to try. Also, quick note if you're reading this on Tumblr – they recently enacted a WORDBLOCK LIMIT on text posts of 100 blocks. Yeah. We're now limited to 100 paragraphs including the title. If the chapter's low dialogue and has no notes, that's fine, but if not? Well, we're just screwed because THIS ONE ran 86 ¶s WITHOUT the notes, glossary, and pre-story stuffs. I'm not sure yet how I'll be handling that limit for good, whether that means posting links to sites without the bullshit limits, posting long chapters in pieces, or linking to the separate posts with the notes and glossary, but I'll figure it out in time. For now, I’ll be including the NOTES at the end and you can find the GLOSSARY at FFnet or AO3.  Check out Spotify for a playlist centered on this arc - features suggested listening for this chapter and the next few, and much, much more.         Lastly, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for their patience and understanding, and give a shout-out to some wonderful people who've made this new chapter possible. This chapter is dedicated to Wolf, Newt, and Ihlni for their invaluable support and kind words – to my hubby Cold for letting me ugly-cry on him without complaint and never failing to remind me that life has to go on – to my ma-in-law for teasing me about earning a nasty hangover instead of acknowledging that I looked like death-on-the-rocks and was obviously crying before I answered the door – to my mother for being a bloody SAINT and to my father for intentionally being an asshole when someone to fight with was just what I needed – to Wanda Farmer on AO3 and vbt22220 on FFnet for their encouragement in reviews, the folks on Tumblr who offered kind words when I needed them most, and to all you wonderful people who've stuck by me, read my stories, and are still reading after all this time. Above all, though, this chapter is dedicated to the memory of Granny Chance and Uncle Bob – may they ever rest in peace.

Suggested Listening: Fuel "Hemorrhage [In My Hands]," Paramore "The Only Exception," Prince "Purple Rain," Survivor "I Never Stopped Loving You" 

 59: A Matter of Honor

The Lair, November 19th - around noon

Donatello wasn't known for being a fool; regardless, he felt rather foolish anytime the obvious failed to register until it was staring him in the face. This was just such a time. He didn't recall sequestering himself in the lab much less falling asleep at his workbench, but the proof was self-evident: a crick in his neck, a strand of insulated wire still stuck to his drool-sticky cheek, and sweat-smeared glasses half off his face. It took a moment of tired lip-smacking and searching to comprehend the facts—ah, right, he pulled an all-nighter to complete the vital signs monitor for Kimber's visit. From what he could see, the device was, indeed, completed. Too tired to consider the absurd picture he must make, he peeled the wire trimming off his cheek and set it aside.

What woke him? He searched his memory, found nothing, then turned to more closely examine his surroundings. A plate of now-cold PopTarts and a cup of coffee (helpfully covered with a cracked saucer) waited a safe distance from his elbow. Right - it was Saturday. This time last year he easily lost track of the days between all-nighters and the sleeping-binges that always followed them. Now he had a weekly reminder in the form of too-sweet coffee and half-burned pastries, courtesy of the confusing woman whose scent still clung to his skin. How blessed he felt in this moment…

The moment ended with a familiar sound—a sleep-slurred phrase he could recognize anywhere but never quite understood. Ya been away too long he got, and he recognized the terms sook, e'en, and nip though he wasn't fully certain of their context.* Beyond that the half-Celt tucked into the cot may as well have been speaking Greek for all he knew. The oft-repeated tease fell short in a particularly nasal snore. Donnie hoisted himself out of his chair with a chorus of protesting joints and slowly rounded the workbench. Silently, he regarded his sleeping woman, soaking in all the silly little details that caught his eyes—the freckles spattered across her skin, the flash of faded ink peeking up over her drooping neckline, the stubborn silver cowlicks sticking up at odd angles from her loosely bound hair—anything to remind himself she was still alive.

He shook his head in weary defeat. A full week after their desperate flight from Willsdale and every time he woke he still half-expected to find Amber cold to the touch, lifeless and painted in blood. Perhaps, he considered as he gathered her in his arms and made his way to their bedroom, this was one scar which would only be healed with time. Perhaps, he considered as he lay her across the neatly tucked quilt and curled up behind her, he could only conquer his fear of Amber's death by focusing on her life. Even as he tugged her flush against his plastron and groin and nuzzled into her neck, he couldn't erase the memory of her: bruised, bloody, and broken, and rapidly fading in his arms. He shuddered and sucked in a steadying breath of her scent.

She wasn't dead, she was alive now…it was enough…right?

Red Fern Florist, Noon

Normally, Red Fern Florist was a calm place – a quiet and classy establishment that just so happened to be run by people who didn't care about being quiet or classy. This, alas, was not a normal day, not even in the slightest.

Abilene Whitaker manned the register, eyes focused somewhere beyond the neon-streaked pages of her textbook and not registering a word. The backroom echoed with near-constant racket—crashes, curses, objects falling or being thrown… Abby sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and dragged herself off of the barstool to investigate. Sure enough, Mercy was stocking the shelves a tad too roughly…if by roughly one meant throwing the bags of supplies around like a spandex-clad steroid junkie at a WWE grudge-match smackdown.

"Alright, that's enough," Abby snapped at her blonde subordinate; Mercy froze, embarrassed grey-blue eyes meeting Abby's over a lean, hunched shoulder. "You've been stomping around and slamming things all afternoon. What on earth could be so horrible you've gotta torture the mulch?" Mercy cringed, fixing guilty eyes on the bag of mulch in her grip. Caught. "Well?" The blonde uttered a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, snorted, then slid the bag onto its shelf with more care than necessary.

"My man's ex is comin' by tonight," she admitted under her breath. "She's stayin' a few days."~

"WHAT?!" Abby squawked in protest. "He's bringing his ex over?! Aw, Hell naw! Girl, you drop that boy before I find him and punch him in the man-fritters!" Man-fritters?** Mercy couldn't help it – she sniggered at the visual – but her laughter faded into regret when she registered the rest of Abby's threat.

"No can do," she sighed, "it's kinda unavoidable." Abby crossed her arms, scrunched her lips into an almost exact replica of Leo's 'pissy leader pout,' and waited for an explanation. Mercy rolled her eyes, spearing her fingers into her hair and yanking. "Kimber…well, she's like me an' Amber," she explained under her breath. "Remember I told ya Amber…uh…went home for a few days? Well, she almost…um…didn't come back. Bitch-nipple's comin' over to see how long any of us can stay home without that happening. She invited herself, we voted, Raph lost, she won." Abby took a moment to let that sink in.

"Your guy tried to vote her off the island?" A grim nod from Mercy. "They broke up before she left, right?"

"…and she left before he an' I met," Mercy added even as she rolled her eyes.~ All the code-talk really got on her nerves but they had to be mindful of the security cameras. Abby leaned against the doorframe, lean shoulders at a sharp slant, and hazel eyes puzzled behind her fuchsia-streaked hair.

"You think she wants him back?" she asked quietly. "He won't…" She sucked in a nervous breath. "What if she tries to win him back?"

"You're kiddin', right?" Mercy scoffed. "He dumped her! He's been angsty as fuck over breakin' her heart, yeah, but I know'im—she could make all the moves she wants, he ain't gonna budge."~ Not to mention Kimber's still dead she added in her own head then shook it. After all, she was dead, too. The whole situation stank like a crappy soap opera. "I trust'im, Abbs," she added under her breath. "Raph chose me, not the Jersey-Devil-wannabe…jealousy's pointless when I already know the end result, an' that end result is he's with me."

Abby watched her a moment, scrutinizing and studying; just as suddenly as she issued the threat against Raph's genitals, she smiled. "You're a strong woman," the neon-haired clerk remarked lightly. "I ever heard one of Cherie's exes asking to stay, I'd bash the twat's teeth in. You need anything, you give me a call, alright?" Mercy nodded, halfway between a cringe and a grateful smile, and went back to the stocking. "So how are things going between you two, anyway?" Abby added taking up her share of the lifting. "You never bring him by, you never tell me much about him…how's he treating you?"

Mercy paused, brow furrowed, and scrambled for an answer that didn't make her sound like an absolute sap. She couldn't find one. "He makes me wanna listen to Faith Hill, watch him sleep, an' punch his ex in the teeth," she grumbled. The heat in her cheeks went nuclear at Abby's excited squeal.

"Oh-em-GEE!" the younger practically shrieked. "You love him!" Mercy shot her a sour glare.

"Woman," she groused, "shut yer ass – the bullshit's leakin' out."

The Lair, shortly after dusk   -   00:00:00  

Two weeks ago, Kimber Bryant faced down Leonardo and demanded the opportunity to make right the trouble she caused his family. Now she stood in the hallway, practically quaking in her mud-stained canvas sneakers, unsure how to proceed. It didn't exactly help that Leo was still glaring at her from behind and her other escort, Donatello, kept fiddling with the tablet strapped to his left forearm.

"Now remember, you've gotta keep the leads from getting tangled," the genius rambled without ever once looking at her. "A little perspiration shouldn't cause any unwanted interference—I insulated the outer casing well to deter any outside condensation or humidity finding its way into the monitor's internal components but there are limits." Kimber rolled her bottle green eyes over at Leo in hope of rescue from Donnie's babbling but received only a glare. "It's not fully water-tight," the genius continued with a shrug and 'meh' expression, still without even glancing her way, "so we'll need to cover it with a water-resistant dressing when it comes to bathing but other than that it—"

"Today, Donnie," Leo grumbled. The younger startled out of his thoughts, fingertips still poised on the holographic chart projected over his tech-tab. He blinked a few times in rapid succession as though refreshing his memory then turned to Kimber in question. From the looks of it, she seemed ready to chew her ankle off to escape the lecture. She really was so very different from Amber…how could they possibly be the same person underneath it all? Could a person's history and past choices really have that big an impact on their personality and attitude?

"Uh…right," he uttered with a wince. "Anyway, it's natural for your core temperature to fluctuate a certain amount over the day but if it drops too low, I'll get an alert. We may not have much time to get you back…so…" he trailed off in hopes she'd pick up the slack.

"Don't get comfy," she finished sourly. "Yeah, I got it. Git lawst."~ He crinkled his nose at her demand but said nothing; instead, he rolled his eyes in defeat and took off toward the lab.

"Remember our agreement," the eldest warned under his breath as he shouldered past her. "You have one chance, and you're to stay—"

"I got it, I got it," Kimber snapped in response. "Go dig t'at stick out'a ya ass before it gets stuck up t'ere."~ Other than a deep-chested growl of warning, Leonardo said nothing—he just stormed past her to some destination she didn't care to know. Rolling her eyes at his attitude, she made her way toward the light at the end of the hallway. The closer she came the more clearly she heard a familiar voice—a voice that still haunted her fondest dreams and worst nightmares.

Familiar laughter led her into the living area where two people were cuddled up on a lumpy sofa. The larger wore a familiar boyish grin that stole the breath right from her lungs. In her grip, the duffle-bag strap slid loose—sweaty palms, she realized. A fluttering, weightless sensation filled her veins—oh, no… 'Gawd dammit…why've I gotta still love'im?'~ She choked around the damned butterflies doing barrel-rolls in her gullet. Steeling her nerves, she shook off her mushy thoughts and turned the corner. 'It don't change nothin'—dead's dead, an' he never chose me anyway. It's better t'is way.'

Raphael…he looked so much the same and yet so different. His eyes shone with laughter where they once burned with distrust; his posture was relaxed where he always kept up a front before. Tucked into his side and 'narrating' the boxing match with absurd faked voice-overs was a tall, lean woman with short messy blonde hair. Kimber's lip ached to curl in a sneer as the blonde loosed a raucous laugh but she fought it back—Raph wasn't hers. If this…this woman in his arms was enough for him…well, she'd respect that. She only ever wanted to see him happy and by God, she'd do so, no matter how much it hurt.

One moment, everything in Mercy's world was perfect. There was a decent match on TV, Raph had 'bullied her' into not-cuddling with him, and for the moment they had no other obligations. As it always seemed to, though, everything fell apart in a single breath…a breath that carried a perfume of vanilla, sugar, and musk. The smell wasn't entirely unpleasant but it was strong enough to make her sinuses burn and her head hurt. Why must so many people marinate themselves in perfume and cologne?

As Mercy and Raphael turned to greet the newcomer in unison the arm around her waist slackened—bright golden hazel eyes widened—full, scarred lips fell slack in dismay. Those lips formed a single word—a name Mercy spent hours cursing that afternoon—but no sound came forth. Torn, she held her silence, eyes darting from Raphael to the stranger and back again almost desperately. She knew this moment would come, she just didn't realize how much she'd want to scream obscenities when it did.

The stranger broke the stare first, bottle-green eyes flustered behind their impeccable smoky eyeliner. She reached up to her modest neckline, grabbed at the pair of worn metal dog-tags at her chest, took a deep breath, then looked up again with a weak smile. "'ey, Raphie," she murmured in a voice still thick with smog. "Long time no see, huh?" The hulking mutant couldn't even get out a single word; he just nodded, his chin and lips unnaturally stiff. Even as he stared down Kimber Bryant he clenched his fingers even tighter to Mercy's waistband. Mercy glanced down at the sight of his three-fingered hand anchoring her in place by a belt-loop. Just that morning, she woke up with that hand tangled in the hem of her nightgown anchoring it at mid-thigh. She had nothing to fear.

She pried Raph's fingers loose, stretched an imaginary crick from her neck, and rolled off the sofa to her feet. "I'll catch up later," Mercy remarked with an entirely faked smile and made her way to the side door. "Compost prob'ly needs a turnin' 'bout now."~ On the way past, she silently took in what details she could, mentally comparing them. The other woman was her height but beyond thin and into skinny. Her hair was coarse—naturally red from the looks of it but with a texture similar to unraveled jute twine. A sharp glance told Mercy the other had practically no ass; no competition there. She rolled her eyes, punched in the security code to pass through, then let the door drift shut behind her.

Before she could get anywhere a pair of large, powerful hands snatched her by the shoulders, spun her about, and pinned her to the tunnel wall. "Why you leavin'?" Raph demanded sharply. His voice was barely below a shout but as so often before, Mercy saw underneath that posturing—she saw the suspicious shimmering in his eyes, the nervous tic in his jaw, the vulnerable hunching of his shoulders, and the lurching of his throat and plastron from frantic heaving breaths. Fear was the one thing he really had no reason to feel in this case but it was written all over him. She cupped his squared jaw, thumb tracing the scar splitting his lip.

"I ain't leavin', ya meathead," she corrected as he covered her hand with his in a frantic grip. "You were friends, right? Ya never got to say goodbye. I've seen how this's been tearin' you apart an' I'm sick of watchin' it."~ Her lips curled in a tease but it was entirely true—she was beyond sick of having another woman in their relationship, even a dead one. "Ya need closure, I get that—I'm backin' off so you can get it. Got it?" Raphael said nothing—he just stared back, visibly searching her words for subtext. When he finally spoke, what he asked made no sense.

"Why?" he demanded in a near-deadpan. Mercy wrinkled her nose but before she could speak, he continued. "Why're ya testin' me like dis? What've I done ta deserve dat?"~

"Testin' you?" Mercy shook her head and scoffed. "I'm not testin' ya, Red," she promised. "I know you and I trust you—you're not about to cheat on me with anyone, much less a dead chick, right?" He shook his head in agreement and his eyes softened; he belatedly released her hand, choosing instead to cup her cheek.

"I wouldn't do dat to ya," he confirmed gruffly. "I'd never…I promised not ta hurt ya an' I meant it…but…" He faltered, flustered and struggling to find the right words. "Dis ain't right…ya ought'a be pissed at me fer even lettin' 'er come here…heck, if dis happened to any other guy, he'd get slapped fer lettin' it happen!"

"You're not any other guy," Mercy reminded shortly, "an' I'm not any other gal. Jealousy won't help anything, it ain't healthy, and you weren't too keen on her comin' over, to begin with. I've got no reason to be mad at'cha, an' especially no reason to hit ya."~ Her eyes drifted back toward the side door, now closed, and she sighed. "I don't like it," she admitted as her hand drifted down to his thick neck, "but I know you need closure an' I trust you enough to not interfere."

Raphael said nothing—what could he possibly say?—instead, he took a step back, eyes wide. This wasn't the first time she professed her trust in him, nor would it be the last, but this utterance seemed the most improbable of all. Wait…no, there was one other moment even more unexpected—a recent moment, the moment he first witnessed Mercy Ross fall apart at the seams, right there in his arms.#

Tousled blonde hair spilled across his pillow like scattered straw. Unpainted lips, swollen from friction, panted around gasping breaths. Work-roughened fingertips clawed at the equally tough skin of his bare scalp and shoulders as he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on her finally bared skin.

   "I trust you," she'd promised only moments before. "When are ya gonna start trustin' yourself?"  

   "Ya shouldn't trust me," he'd blustered, but despite his denials, he caved to her temptation. He knew from the first breath it would take weeks to clear her pheromones from his lungs; he'd never forget the taste of her or her keening cries of completion. When the madness left her eyes and the fire dulled in his blood, Raphael knew he'd never be able to see his Mercy the same, nor would he ever cease to be humbled by her seemingly unshakable faith in him—trust he couldn't recall doing a damn thing to earn.  

That July, Raphael took a chance on happiness in the middle of an open rooftop—a single kiss followed by countless more, all sound-tracked with heavy metal. Ever since then, anytime he fell to the temptation of Mercy's lips, he lost himself completely. He wanted her—he needed her—he craved her—she was the air he breathed, vital to his very survival and responsible for every beat of his heart. Far below the filthy streets, in a dark passage forgotten by the world in general, he stole her lips and breathed her in reverence.

He loved her—loved her beyond the limits of his fears and follies—and that was why she knew he wouldn't let her down.

"So you two, huh?" Raphael ducked his head to avoid Kimber's eyes, hoping she couldn't see the traces of stickiness at his lips or the tenting of his patched trousers. She said nothing, choosing instead to examine the worn red tweed of the sofa arm she perched on.

"What of it?" he retorted slumping onto the seat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Looks like ya found a good one, 'at's all," she shrugged. He studied her silently a moment, searching for signs of deceit. In his heart, he knew this stranger was Kimber—his Kimber, the friend he threw away over his insecurities and fears—but her appearance was largely unfamiliar. Kimber was always on the chunky side of curvaceous but with an undeniable sex appeal. This new body was built like a scarecrow - all long limbs and frizzy hair - but underneath he could see the same sensual confidence Kimber had before she died. That sensuality was all Kimber - Amber lacked it completely, always coming across somewhere between odd and awkward. This woman, though visually unfamiliar, was definitely Kimber. Something in her eyes spoke of mischief…and regret. "Fer Gawd's sake," she swore under her breath and turned an acidic glare on him. He refused to meet it, locking his eyes on one padded and splayed knee. "I know t'a drill—I'm dead, not stoopid."

"Ya were never stupid, Kim, jus' stubborn an' naive," he protested but she waved him off.

"T'en quit lookin' at me like t'at." After a moment of resistance, he finally bit the bullet—he met her eyes. "Yeah, like t'at," the redhead grumbled, "like I'm gonna jump ya if ya take yer eyes off'a me or somethin'. I may be livin' in a homewrecker but t'at don't make me a homewrecker." This time, she was the one to hide her eyes.

A long, tense silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional sound from the Lab or utility room. In this unexpected but overdue moment, despite the drastically different appearance, Raphael saw Kimber as she was when they first met—not the over-confident temptress with the venomous smile and devil-may-care attitude but the lost, lonely, frightened runaway searching for her place in the world. Her new body was thirty-five if it was a year old, but she'd never looked more like a child to him than she did now. The night she turned Lefty and Northpaw over to the police and fell apart, Raph let the wrong head do the thinking and her heart suffered for it. So much heartache came from that one bad call—Kimber's death, too, was a result—how could he ever make it right?

"Rah-fay-el." The quiet – almost reverent – utterance of his name startled him from his brooding. Kimber faced the far wall but her eyes were locked on his askance. "Tell me t'a truth…did ya ever love me?" He blanched; she scoffed and picked at the faded red tweed covering the sofa. "I know we was close," she clarified in a soft tone void of accusation, "friends to be sure, but did ya ever love me like I loved you?"

He didn't answer—he couldn't answer, not around the painful lump in his throat. For so long, he wondered the very same. Loving Kimber, after all, would have made his betrayal a crime of passion rather than a bad move made in paranoid self-defense. Despite all his brooding introspection, though, he always came up with the same answer: he could have loved her, but he didn't…if he'd kept his head, maybe, someday, he could have loved her, but he didn't. "Exactly." Kimber's near-whisper broke his train of thought. "I knew ya didn't love me," she admitted even as her shoulders drew tight and her painted lips stretched in a sort of sneer. "I always knew it, I just t'ought…eh, no matter. I'm not gonna fuck up yer life again."

"I think ya got dat backwards," Raph pointed out dryly. "I fucked up yer life—I'm why yer…" He faltered, his throat clenching around the word as though to prevent him from voicing it. "Ya know," he settled for with a weak half-shrug, "like dis." Kimber watched him silently, eyes sharp enough to cut away his protective façade.

"Say it," she challenged. He flinched; she slid off the armrest and stalked over to face him, arms crossed in defiance. "Say it, Raph," she ordered, "ya know what I am—ya know t'a word, so use it. I'm…" She trailed off, one eyebrow cocked in expectance.

Raphael cringed. Of all the times he wished it was possible to completely withdraw into his shell, this was one of the worst so far. Weary hazel eyes drifted from Kimber's dirty canvas sneakers up her faded jeans and cotton blouse, up to her unimpressed eyes. "Yer…dead," he whispered as if confessing some great sin.

"Exactly," Kimber harrumphed and jabbed him between the eyes with one clear-lacquered fingernail. "Dead folks an' live folks jus' don't mix, ya muck-brained mawron.~ It wouldn't work an' I ain't about to waste my time tryin' ta make it work. Capiche?" He nodded, glaring up at her retreating back.

"Den why'd ya come back?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his knee. "Dere had to be anutha way to test Don's theory, so why'd ya volunteer?"~ Kimber stilled in her pacing, carefully arranging her words before they could all spill out without concern for her feelings.

"I never got ta say goodbye," she admitted in a near-whisper, "not ta you, not ta Daron or Lefty, not ta anyone who mattered…but I've neva been t'at big on goodbyes anyhow, ya know?" Her voice cracked on the last words and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, she turned to the side as though watching him over her shoulder but her eyes remained hidden. "I made a lotta mistakes, Red—a lotta stoopid decisions t'at hurt a lotta people—an' much as I wanted to just stay dead, I lived ta regret every one'a t'ose decisions. T'at's why I came back…t'a fix t'a shit I broke an' atone for my sins. If t'at means stayin' here fer t'ree days while you an' Blondie play suck-face, so be it."

"Ya know you're puttin' yer life at risk, right?" Raph reminded, ignoring the suck-face comment. "Donnie ain't sure about da timing on dis thing, ya know. He an' the braided nutcase passed five days in her world but they weren't gone a whole three days, here. Who's to say ya'll have a full three days here? Who's ta say ya won't drop dead in an hour, or three hours, or even a minute from now?" He shuddered at the thought, his mind helpfully supplying several months' worth of nightmares to choose from, most of which ended with Kimber dying in his arms. "Ya froze, Kim, an' dat ain't an easy way to go; are ya really willing to risk goin' through it all over again?"

"It's my choice," she reminded with a stern expression reminiscent of an unimpressed schoolmarm. "No one asked me ta make t'at choice. Besides, see t'is?" She tugged her neckline aside to show him the small plastic device hung from her neck and the line of wire trailing down to her armpit. "T'is lil' t'ing's monitoring my core temp—we've got t'is covered. Trust me?"

Raph considered the plea a moment—for it was, indeed, a plea in every sense of the word—then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I don't like it," he admitted in a throaty rumble, "but it ain't my job ta like it." There was much more to say, but for the moment, he hadn't words.

"Nope," Kimber agreed with a sly grin. "It's yer job ta help me give Daron a heart attack. What say we give'im a visit from t'a Livin' Dead Girl?" It was just a tease—just another excuse to ignore the elephant in the room—but for the moment, Kimber didn't care. She had more important tasks to focus on—messes to clean up, mistakes to correct, sins to atone for, and honor to regain. For now, the rest could wait.

  The Lair   -   00:35:00 and counting

Time stops for no man, people often said, and the same could be said for women. Never mind that Amber's cantankerous counterpart was staying in the Lair for the weekend…lurking around every corner…stinking up the place with her perfume…just waiting for a chance to bitch-slap Amber back into her place at the bottom of the food chain…

Amber shuddered at the thought and firmly shoved it into the back of her mind. Kimber Bryant made Amber all kinds of nervous but her presence didn't excuse Amber from her chores. There was too much to do—laundry to put away, studying to do, dinner to prepare— Something soft and furry brushed against her calf, startling her from her thoughts. "Right," she muttered as Kirk bypassed the laundry basket at her feet and hopped up onto Donnie's bed. "Gotta clean the litterboxes an' feed Kirkland too." After a mrrruhl of warning and a superfluous butt-wiggle said feline launched himself right into a pile of folded undergarments and began viciously mauling a sock big enough to double as an oven mitt. As he lay on his side, wrapped around the sock and kicking like a homicidal kangaroo, Amber sighed and shook her head in whimsical defeat. After how much she'd missed him she couldn't really be upset with the little murder-machine; cats, after all, would be cats, and socks could be darned.

"It's inevitable, Kirk," she teased as she hung a pair of patched canvas trousers in the frame-and-fabric 'closet.' "You're just gonna have to get used to sharing me with Donnie. I know I'm Mom but he's mine - you can't resent him forever." With an adorable cotton-muffled urrrr, Kirk glared at her over a mouthful of beige knit as if to say watch me. Ah, the jealousy of spoiled cats.

"Honestly, I'm lucky to have Donnie," she added to herself, doubts and worries filling her thoughts between wire hangers. Back before the dream connection was confirmed—before Donatello confronted her with his old Tonfa and confessed the name of her dead classmate—Amber could fool herself he wasn't the same Donnie she grew up with. She could tell herself that he didn't know all her dirty little secrets. He didn't watch her fall apart over the last few years of her life, partly from illness and her and partly from depression and apathy. He never heard how her poor choices in college may have led to the death of a classmate. He never knew she routinely slaked her carnal needs in impersonal encounters so her time with him in dreams could be focused on more important things than her hormones. If this Donnie wasn't her Donnie, then the mistakes of her past were only a secret to keep.

The problem was…now she knew this was her Donnie…and by the sounds of it, he remembered everything. Amber paused, fondling a strip of worn purple fabric. Even after countless washings, every one of those masks smelled strongly of his oddly comforting blend of coffee, machinery, musky exertion, and spice. "How can he even look at me, Kirk?" Amber murmured into the sweet-smelling fabric. "I screwed up with him so many times…I gave up on him, I – I gave myself up to other guys…how doesn't he hate me by now?"

This last question seemed the most perplexing. Sure, the purpose of those impersonal booty-calls was to shut up her hormones so her scant time with Donnie could be put to better use, but she always regretted them afterward. Regret, though, didn't count if a person intentionally committed the same crime over and over again, and she was guilty—guilty of closing her eyes, mentally replacing the other men with Donnie, and crying herself to sleep after they left. Regret was a weak word, really; what she felt wasn't weak. After all the time she spent hating herself for the infidelity, the idea that Donnie didn't hate her for it made no sense.

The dead silence tore her from her ruminations; odd, considering Kirk had a habit of 'answering' her every time she spoke.## After a quick glance at the bed, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. The little furball was out cold, wrapped around her favorite bra and snoring into one generous cup. The battered sock sprawled on the floor half under the bed—the enemy was vanquished. Chuckling at the absurdity, Amber crouched to retrieve the sock but paused when she noticed something wedged between the mattress and box spring. A warped silver wire binding, traces of green beyond the rings…surely she was mistaken, but it wouldn't hurt to check…right?

Amber tugged the notebook loose and promptly cringed in recognition. It was her journal, the one she hadn't written in for months then misplaced. Why was it jammed under the mattress like a nudie magazine? Curiosity drove her to investigate and she quickly discovered the litany of notes scribbled upside-down in the back. She quickly lost herself in the writing—questions and memories, hopes and fears Donatello couldn't bring himself to share with her, all centered around their years apart. Though she didn't dig too deeply, there wasn't a single word of blame or judgment anywhere—nothing that indicated resentment or disgust. Amber almost missed the sheet of loose-leaf that slipped out and fluttered to the floor—almost. The pencil-scribbled contents might have made her stumble if she hadn't already seated herself before. "I met my lover in a dream," she whispered in recognition.^ "That poem…I thought I lost it...I guess Donnie found it?" Soon enough, she hit the final lines:

Mibbe someday he will see –     Someday the truth I'll tell. For now, I've only memories,     And dreams I shot tae Hell.

Or, rather, those should have been the final lines—they were the last she wrote. Someone, however, clearly thought the poem wasn't finished and added their own verse…in pen…neatly printed by a familiar hand straddling the border between calculating and persnickety. "No way," Amber muttered thickly as she scanned the added verse, wide-eyed and breathless. "Naw fookin' way!"~ No matter how she protested, the words remained clear, impossible yet obvious. Still marveling at their presence—and at the subtext—she never heard the soft ticking of a distant clock, or the even softer inhale accompanying.

Dreams can sometimes fall apart,     And memories can fade. The truth you shared can't change my heart…     Your lover-friend I've stayed…

I'll see you in our dreams.  

There was no stopping it, no holding back: Amber crushed the paper to her pounding heart in elation. He remembered. He understood. He loved. Perhaps, even…he forgave?

Sometimes emotions are too powerful for words; fortunately for Amber, squealing unintelligibly required none.

UP NEXT: (Currently in-progress)

Chapter List

- The vital signs monitor – At first I wasn't quite sure if such a device was on the public market, at least aside from 'smart' devices like FitBit and such, so I did what I do best: I researched the fuck out of it for funzies. Turns out there are more varieties out there than I expected, each monitoring different signs in different fashions and to different accuracy levels. Since Donnie's never been the sort to simply COPY others' ideas, we can safely assume he's combined the best of several devices. The result is a small electronic monitor [about the size of a 9-volt battery] hung from the neck by a lanyard, which measures core body temp by way of leads attached to an adhesive-backed electrode stuck in the armpit. We can also assume fitting the device on Kimber was incredibly awkward because she intentionally MADE IT awkward.

* Full statement including what Amber's snoring cut off: "Ya be'n 'way too long 'gain, ya sook—nae be'n by fer a nip'er a bosie. Wha's a lass ta think?" – This little bit of Scotchness is a routine in-dream tease from Amber. You've been gone [from our dreams] too long again, you old softy—you haven't even come by for a kiss or cuddle. What's a woman to think?

** Man-Fritters – Alas, I cannot claim authorship of this little snigger-inducing euphemism. That honor belongs to author Mimi Jean Pampfiloff in her Accidentally Yours series. While the first two books were pretty recipe [if you know what I mean] they were HILARIOUS recipes. I'm not ashamed to admit that the scene in the first one where the heroine belts out 80's pop hits to keep sane made me laugh so hard I spewed my tea, CHOKED ON IT, then spent the rest of the day CROAKING. It was WORTH IT. (That said, the author also used a lovely little nonsense-word coined by my IRL friend Autumn back when we were in high school but didn't notate it. I'd encourage Autumn to stop starting word trends without first seeking a copyright but that'd mean I'd have to pay her every time I stole her stuff, heh.)

Also: Abby has no accent. She's intentionally warping the Oh, Hell no! in hopes of showing Mercy just how upset the news makes her.

# Implied smut – The encounter referenced here didn't make it to in-story occurrence BUT it took place during the Absolutes arc, which took up too much time-and-space for the intended back-and-forth between worlds. It's written up and included in the "Gallery of Memories" as The Blonde and the Beefcake and it can be found HERE.) It's almost entirely lemon, BTW. ;P

## Kirk tends to 'answer' Amber every time she talks to him – I am SO not basing this on our cat Heiferlump. Nope, not at all! …fine. Yes. Heifer responds to EVERYTHING she hears, no matter who says it, and it's rare to find someone she can't bait into answering back. She's particularly adept at getting my father to argue with her and routinely tries to argue with the microwave beeper. O_o It's awesome.

^ The Poem, "Dream Lovers" – I've not posted the entirety of the poem in any chapters or even the GoM installment of the same name. NOW, however, you can find the entire poem in comic format HERE, on this story's Here on Tumblr, OR on DeviantArt. The comic includes Donnie's additions and a small blurb of backstory leading to this scene, and the Tumblr/AO3 posts include a glossary for the many odd words used in the poem. For convenience's sake, I've included the translation of the included verse below.

Again, since Tumblr’s decided to be an ass about wordblock limits, see FFnet or AO3 for the glossary if anything throws you off.

[creideamhgradochas]

Thanks to the lovely @whostheblondegirlwriting for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely E, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

*Disclaimer from E, herself: If you’re looking for some sage-like writery advice...keep lookin’. You won’t find it here. This whole fic writing endeavor is an adventure in “[shrugs] We’ll see what happens”. Behold! An odyssey of half-assed, one line inspo. Marvel at the absolute appalling lack of plotting and vision. Tremble at the underwhelming realization that “Huh. I could do better than that”. In short, at least you don’t pay money for this, right?

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

I have no idea, honestly. I signed up for AO3 to actually share it though in September 2015 when I was 36. So we’ll go with that.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I think I have done more reader inserts than OC, counting all the tumblr oneshots. But you can actually create something substantial with an OC. An OC makes you work. I prefer them.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

I don’t know if I’ve done enough variety to have a fav, honestly.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

I wouldn’t. They’re all mine and I’m proud of each of them, no matter how popular (or maybe I should say, unpopular) they are/were.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

Whenever I have the time! I’m not picky, because time is very hard to come by with my job anymore and the fact that my husband doesn’t know I write. Morning, noon, or night for me. It can be hard to sneak it in and still get everything else done.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

I don’t have a good answer for this and I’m laughing to myself thinking I should have one. Lol An idea comes up and I write it. That’s it. Shameful, I know.

7) In your Back to One series, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

Oh, damn. Uhhh...I think I liked Sebastian fumbling through his confession to Lily in Montauk. But I also probably had the most fun with the “champagne incident” because it was for my tumblr-lifemate,  @ceebeetumbles.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Nope. It is what it is. You can’t please everyone and I don’t try. As long as I like it, it’s good enough. It’s not like anyone’s paying me for this, anyway. Lol

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Hmm. Right now, I’d have to say Jack Rollins, because he preoccupies so much of my writing lately. Besides his own fic, he’s also featuring in an AU for Echo that’s in draft. Considering he had two lines in Winter Soldier, I’m very proud of the interest and love my Jack gets.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Chris Evans, for right now. Only because he has been less than inspirational for some time due to his relative inactivity and, uh, [ahem] some personal choices he made. But I’m optimistic he’ll come back.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Back to One series?

The main character, Lily, goes through some personal and professional ups and downs as an actress. The phrase “back to one” is a direction for actors to go back to their first mark, so I thought it was fitting, as Lily would hopefully get things right, find her best self again, and have a fresh start as she meets different situations and opportunities in her story.

12) How did you come up with the idea for the Back to One series?

I thought I’d write a Sebastian Stan fic and figured a good match for him (and someone to help drive the story) would be an actress. But then I considered an OC like Lily could have more angles to write and it became really an OC fic that features Sebastian Stan. Oops.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I haven’t ever abandoned a fic. I refuse to give up on A Touch Up and do write a line or two here and there, just nowhere near the volume I need to publish a full chapter like I used to. It ended up on the shelf because Chris Evans got so boring after Civil War premiered and the fic is literally built on what he was doing in his everyday life. I also have a personal distaste for Jenny Slate and I guess you could say his decision to date her made me doubt the version of him I’d created in ATU, which is a problem when your fic is paired so purposefully around the assumptions I/we all had made by that time about him.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’m doing it. Echo was my pet project and, though it has my smallest following for a WIP, I had enough demand/interest for the story to be told from another character’s perspective that Jack Rollins and the STRIKE Series were born. There’ll be some unexpected things along the way in that series that I hope those fans/readers enjoy.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

No. I’ve only ended a couple fics (Echo and Kindness). Everything else is still a WIP or open ended series that publishes oneshots every once in awhile. The rest of my work is basically oneshots.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Don’t laugh at me when I say I admire anyone who puts their work out there, even if it’s just a paragraph long imagine only on tumblr. It takes a lot of nerve, no matter what level your work is at or how big the scope. I’ve seen some good, bad, and ugly fic floating around, but I see value in it all and love seeing experience/determination help the writer evolve.

We ain’t all Hemingways or Shakespeares. And that’s okay. Some of the best writers don’t have thousands of followers and get hundreds of notes (but deserve them). And some of the behemoths out there aren’t necessarily turning out mind blowing fic, either. It’s a crapshoot and fandom can be fickle (if not downright confusing af).

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Not at all. If it posts, I’m happy with it.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Either is fine. I probably write more in quiet, though, because my husband works 3rd shift, so I’m mindful not to disturb him.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

No. Closest I could say to giving me my own feels was when I wrote The Death of Brock Rumlow (when it existed as part of the original Echo plot).

20) Which part of your Back to One series was the hardest to write?

I’m happy to say I don’t think there’s been a hard part to write for Back To One, or any of my fics. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it!

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Nope. No outlines or plans. I pretty much just sit down and write. If inspiration doesn’t hit, I’ll switch to a different WIP. If I have an idea for a line or scene I might make a note for later (maybe just a few words to point me in the right direction/remind me, or a line or two of dialogue), but once I get to it, I usually just write it out at once.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

How little time I’d have down the road for it. Maybe I wouldn’t have run such long WIPs/fics at a time. It feels like it’s been 100 years since I had time to open requests and I had to abandon a weekly posting schedule for 3 WIPs earlier this year because I just don’t have the time to manage the volume I used to anymore.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

OMG yes! Echo and its companion fic, Jack Rollins (and I’ll probably say the same for the au/the STRIKE series). At this point, I can confidently say the following for Echo didn’t carry over to Jack Rollins, but I knew both were niche fics in the beginning anyway. I’m grateful for the attention Echo got, but it was such a labor of love, I’d have liked to see it do better. I may only have several regular readers for Jack Rollins commenting or reblogging, but those few readers and myself are the ones I wrote it for, and that I’ll keep posting it for until it’s finished, regardless of how tiny the readership because I love it.  

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Not in an “oh, geez. Not that again” way. More like a “oh, stop. I can’t believe you guys like it that much” kind of humbled eye roll.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Obviously the celebrities like Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, technically yeah. I have no doubt that some of my own ticks, experiences, etc have made it into a character or plot, or things from people I know or have come across. Things you don’t necessarily draw lines between on purpose but maybe catch on to later, sure.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Any of the comments or messages from people who say they cried, laughed out loud in public, got way too giddy, or held their breath because of something I wrote.  They make me so happy, just to see someone got so lost or involved in a moment means I did a good job. Having someone say they reread a fic (or are reading for the X time) is a hell of a compliment, too.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

It was about A touch Up and how I had given the reader insert character, or implied, too much description (ex. noting that POC don’t blush as often as this girl did, when I wrote it as that feeling in the cheeks anyone can experience to convey her nervousness/embarrassment/etc at those points in the story so people maybe shared that sense as they read, not that she frequently ran around with a noticeable flush) and that, although I may not have said it outright, things like that apparently had made her so that she was obviously white. That ruined it for the commenter, despite there not actually being that much said about appearance in the story.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Rarely. @ceebeetumbles gets a snippet of a chapter thrown at her once in a very blue moon, if I want to be sure something isn’t too cliché or generally awful. Lol But there’s a chance she’s reading along with the fic, so I may not send the whole chapter. I don’t plot per se or collaborate with anyone though.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

Just the lovely people who’ve visited me on Tumblr or AO3.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

It’s a toss up between Frank Grillo’s appearance in A Touch Up and Jack Rollins or Eric Mickelson in Echo. I’m also a little fond of Drew Madison in Back To One.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

That I told you I’d post an update to a WIP, promised a drabble, or set a deadline that a request would be done by. So, really just my self-imposed “schedule”.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

I don’t really have one.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Nnnope. Lol

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

It’s a toss up between angst and fluff. They both come pretty easily. Honestly, smut is exhausting to write and I do so little of it because I don’t want it to be repetitive. Fluff is always fun. But, man...the possibilities with angst are pretty limitless, so maybe I’d lean a little more that way.

[seenashwrite]

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps! 

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

.

.

.

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about -  I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks…. 

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor. 

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off. 

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —> 

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here. 

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good  challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉