#another fun post i decided to keep in my drafts for four months for no reason

[imsorryimlate]

back when we were doing dracula daily, someone posted something about how van helsing was both a lawyer and a doctor, and i was like “?? but jack is also both?”, but when i tried to find support for this idea of mine, i couldn’t find it. eventually i resigned myself to it being something i had dreamt.

but then!! i was again rereading the october 1st passage, where renfield says:

[…] I am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as under exceptional circumstances.

and this is where i had gotten the idea, i think. but a medico-jurist is not a lawyer, which i had assumed because of the word jurist. no, a medico-jurist is, as the name implies, someone who’s involved in medical jurisprudence.

from wikipedia (awkwardly abridged for convenience):

Medical jurisprudence or legal medicine is the branch of science and medicine involving the study and application of scientific and medical knowledge to legal problems, such as inquests, and in the field of law. […] medicolegal cases involving death, rape, paternity, etc. require a medical practitioner to produce evidence and appear as an expert witness, […] Medical jurisprudence includes […] questions of competence or sanity in civil or criminal proceedings.

(emphasis mine)

so… our boy jack is out here giving expert witness testimonies in court?

now, i will admit to being someone who’s interested in true crime, and historical cases are always of interest because of the continuous evolution of forensic science and the shifting ideas around diminished responsibility. looking at the late 18th century and the 19th century, there are two points of interest regarding cases in the uk where defendants were found not guilty by reason of insanity:

1. a lot of them where kept at bethlam or broadmoor, famous mental hospitals

2. a lot of the expert witnesses were doctors and superintendents at bethlam or broadmoor, or at times at private asylums

some names that pop up a lot are:

william orange (superintendent at broadmoor)

sir william charles wood (superintendent at colney hatch, with its own connection to seward, later at bethlem)

edward monro (doctor at bethlem, appeared as an expert witness up to around 400 times!)

sir alexander morison (doctor at bethlem)

forbes winslow (owner of his own private asylums, also funniest middle name ever: benignus)

i’m not gonna ascribe nefarious motives to these doctors (especially dr. winslow because he seems to have been a pretty good guy who was “cutting-edge” by treating his patients humanely uhhh) but i still think there was a lot of potential for a conflict of interest, which is why i pointed out their professional positions.

but there is one doctor i will ascribe possible nefarious motives to: our dear doctor jack seward.

i know i’m not the only one who thinks that he was “saved” by the narrative in that in gave him a purpose and a stronger anchoring to his friends (both old and new). considering his opening entry, where he’s like “of course i wouldn’t experiment on renfield, that would be unethical and send me to hell…. but what if?? 👀” like, this guy… this guy!! i say this with love, but he’s primed for becoming an evil scientist.

i don’t think he would have done it when we meet him in the novel, or afterwards when he’s been through the whole adventure/mission – but if the events of dracula hadn’t happened, i could definitely see him descending deeper into self-justified malpractice, by which i mean he’d testify that accused criminals are insane just to get his hands on them, to be able to study them.

but aside from my speculation about that^ i also wonder if perhaps he’s well on his way to becoming an eminent expert witness when we meet him in the book. by renfield’s words, it would seem that he has been involved in an inquest or legal case at least once (but probably more if he’s going to claim the title medico-jurist). we all wonder sometimes how a 29 year old doctor came to have an immense lunatic asylum under his care, but honestly, some of these trials were huge, and expert witnesses could rise to some prominence and gain benefactors that way (just like they do today).

and who knows, maybe jack got his foot in the courtroom door via his lordling friend arthur, which would allow him to establish himself as a medical expert despite being young and (presumably) recently graduated.

[dragon-fan]

Raising a Wolf: A furry visual novel (Devlog #2) Basic Mechanics

Another update after *Checks notes* a few weeks? Man, time sure flies when you're sick.

Doesn't matter. Recently I've made some improvements to the game, but I don't want to disclose them quite yet.

Today I wanted to talk about basic mechanics - what the game is about, since I didn't see a lot of visual novels doing this kind of stuff so I thought I'd explain the fundamentals at play here.

But first, I wanted to show those amazing character designs, made by @wheatu!

As you can guess by the title of the game, the main mechanic of the game is raising the kid. How do you do it? Well, by setting his schedule of course!

At first, you have limited selections of activities but as the game progress, more stuff opens up to you.

So far the schedule allows you to plan two activities for the kid and one "parent action", something you, the player character does while the kid does his own thing - for example you can try to work more to earn more money, however, it will come at the cost of your relationship with the kid.

Also fun fact - there were two other versions of the scheduler before I settled on the current one. And let me assure you, this one will definitely change too.

The next stop on our adventure through basics is the stats screen. I swear I remade this thing like four times, and I just can't be satisfied. Trust me, I'm only keeping this eyesore for testing purposes (so everyone playing and testing can see what is going on), and I will for sure change it into something more pleasing to the eyes in the near future.

On this screen, you can see the current stats and skills of the kid. What's the difference between the two? Stats are big colorful texts (Physical, Smart, Social, and Creativity), and each contains two skills (for example, Strength and Stamina are part of Physical), although I might add more.

The general idea for this system is that each stat is the sum of it's skills. So for example, if kid has 40 points in Art and 10 points in Music his creativity is a nice 50, which is quite a lot. During various trials and tribulations across the game, kid's abilities will be tested, sometimes by stats, sometimes by skills alone (for example, trying to join the sports team requires a high physical overall, however running for a long time requires just stamina.)

Besides stats you can also see here the level of kid's stress (if it reaches maximum kid will need a while to rest), parent's job (determined at the beginning of the game, it decides how much money you start with and earn each month), monthly income (determined by the previous point), and current money (which you can use to buy stuff for the kid.)

There's also wildness which is.... a bit harder to explain. And I think this post is already long enough (Thanks for reading so far by the way!)

I'm still working on the first draft of the script, and some features, but I'll try to make the next blog post soon... or at least sooner than my this one.

Thanks again for reading, and hope you'll have a good day!

[ggukkiereads]

Hi 💓

It is the month of Ramadan and I want to avoid reading any smutty/steamy fics for the month. Which is why I was wondering if you have any Jungkook or Taehyung non smut fic recs? It can be fluff or anything just no explicit sex scenes. Thank you for your recommendations you are literally my favorite page on this platform 💜✨

🌷 Hello @dhabatae101. First, I wish you and other followers a happy, safe, and blessed Ramadan. Ramadan Mubarak! ✨

I decided to answer this right away so I tried compiling my reblogs (plus those fics I haven’t reviewed yet) and authors that “specialize” in fluff/angst. However, the list went on and on 🤭. So, I will split this post into two:

Part 1: authors that have more SFW content in their catalog (you are here)

Part 2: non-smut fics (my reblogs + other recs) - Taehyung | Jungkook

(Fluff/Angst) Smut-less Fics | Taehyung & Jungkook

🌷 Part 1 (Recommended Authors)

@jimlingss - Kina’s masterlist is just a dream. No two stories are the same and every fic is just memorable. A truly prolific and consistent writer. Usually witty, fluffy, and charming but the angsty fics are also deadly. I posted my fave JJK and KTH fics -  the Worshipers Series can be read independently but better if read sequentially to better understand the “universe”. The Slice of Life Series  is also a must, but you can read the KTH and JJK fics on their own but I seriously love ALL 💖.

Worshipers of the Sky - KTH | series [3/3] | 35k | God AU, Goddess!OC, Sacrifice!Taehyung, Worshipers Series | F, some A

Worshipers of the Sea - JJK | one shot | 16.3k | Pirate AU, Mermaid AU, God AU,  Worshipers Series  | F, A

President’s Son - KTH | series [20/20] | 80k | Bodyguard AU (reader), Slice of Life Sereis, Slow Burn | F

Sugar and Coffee - JJK | series [23/23] 101k | Patisserie School AU, Best Friend AU, Enemies to Lovers (slight), Slice of Life Series | F

Love So Shallow - KTH | series [3/3] | 34.8k | College AU, eventual Roommate AU, Best Friend AU, Humor | F, slight A  ⭐ #holygrailfic

Black Waltz -  KTH | two shot | Butler AU, Historical AU | F, A (ah I love Taehyung’s characterization here)

Moirai - KTH | series [8/8] | 46.9k | isekai au, fantasy au, reborn as a villain in a video game | F, A

Rent a Boyfriend - KTH | I noticed this is a crowd favorite, it might end up yours too =)

A Fairy Crime - KTH | one shot | Fairy godmother OC to grant someone a happy ever after  | F, A, crack

Date in a Box - JJK | one shot | 9.7k | Date Planner (like wedding planner but make it a service for dating) | F, F, F

His Name - JJK | series [8/8] | 52.4k | Multiple Personality AU, based on Kill Me, Heal Me (this is one of my favorite Korean drama series so I really enjoyed this fic series too) | A

A Piece of Moonlight - JJK | one shot | 22k | Warrior AU, Mulan AU | really angsty though

*didn’t include Chess of Ice (since this is in the Jungkook Jock AU list)

@inktae - If you’ve been following me I always rave about this author. Mostly her work is of fantasy genre but has a slice of life tone. Her fics are just masterpieces - just beautifully written and viscerally gripping. They remind me of Ghibli films for some reason (like the tone). You can check their fics here (just avoid those with M, usually with sexual content but honestly it’s not explicit). I love everything but if you want to start somewhere, you can try:

Blue Orchids, Moonlight, Home After Rain -  JJK Soulmate AU, Hanahaki AU, Angst  ⭐ #holygrailfic

First Light - KTH x R x JJK | raved about it here (angst)

Away From the Sun - KTH | soulmate AU

The train of lost souls - JJK, feat JHS | fantasy AU | A

The swirling Ways of Stars - JJK, fantasy | A, F

@gukyi - for your enemies to lovers needs. This is one of my favorite tropes so I just love that there is a writer that ‘specializes” in this. Please check their masterlist and take note of fics with (smut). Try:

Four Weeks - KTH, College AU, stuck in campus for four weeks during Christmas

Good Luck Charm - KTH, roommates, actor AU

Moonlight Melody + Part 2 - JJK, fake dating, orchestra AU | F, A

Coffee Shop Contract - JJK, fake dating, college AU | F

If I Told You - JJK, college, unrequited love/pining | F, A

Midas - JJK, magical realism | F, A

Love Project - JJK, comedy, photography assignment | F

@koorara - ugh I just adore their writing. Tooth-rotting fluff seems effortless with her drabbles/short stories. You can check their fics here. My faves:

Driving Me Wild - JJK, demon au, roommate au, ongoing drabble series but you can read it (not cliffhanger-ish), soulmate au | my review (tooth-rotting fluff)

His Dandelion - KTH, someone sent an ask about this you can read the description | A

Down and Down - JJK | MMA fighter, slight making out | A, F

The Pitter Patter of the Heart - skip the drabble with mature content, husband au, lecturer jungkook, this is super cuuuute | tooth-rotting fluff

@suhdays - it’s just amazing to find a writer with a non-smut catalog. Writing is just pure and focused on the plot and emotional/character development. Please give their masterlist lots of love. My faves:

Access Granted - I like hacker Jungkook. SMAU format

A Cinderella Story - JJK | also based on the movie | F, A

Wherever You Are - JJK | vampire, ceo (I love this) | A, F

Terms of Endearment - JJK | poet jjk x artist reader | F

Bucket List - JJK | friends to lovers (this is adorable! my review of this is still in the drafts like the rest of the fics 😥) | F, slight A

Camp Crush - KTH | brother’s best friend (this is funny like I was just smiling all throughout)

Made of Honor -  KTH | SMAU, recently completed! Like the movie

Baby I’m a Fool - JJK | Fake Dating, Co-worker AU, E2L | F, A

@vanaera - her Yoongi coworker E2L series is something I’m always waiting for and  I don’t think her other fics contain smut. Please check The Prince and His Rose (bestfriend AU, College AU, childhood friends, football player x writer!reader Jungkook, fluff/angst)

@namjoonchronicles - so I recently binged on this author’s writing (still bingeing on her other members’ fics). Their catalog has a lot of Domestic AUs which are beautiful slice of life pieces. It could be as simple as folding the laundry but it would be so meaningful. I said in one of my reviews that their domestic fics has same vibes as illustrator Puung’s Love is in Small Things. I would like to post my favorites here but I think I recently just reviewed/reblogged tons of their work (you can search my blog for the reviews). Please check their masterlist. Granite Glow is my ⭐ #holygrailfic

@rosaetae​ - if you like angst that hurts but it all makes sense why the situation had to be angsty, then her masterlist is something to binge on. Not all are angsty, just mind the tags for pure “fluff”. My favorites:

The Bedtime Contract - KTH, roommates, enemies to lovers, sort of cuddle buddy?, fluff but there’s slight angst | F, A

Dream a Little Dream of Me - KTH, soulmate au, could hear soulmate’s voice, waitress x songwriter | 

Lavender + Vanilla - KTH,  a story about a boy who had forgotten his memory of you

Chrysanthemum Effect - KTH (JJK has a side story too), Hanahaki AU

Among the Evergreen  - JJK, Christmas AU, E2L | F

Sweet Apple Biscuits - JJK, receives letter from their future self asking to save one boy ⭐ | A, slight F

Best Thing He Never Had 01 02 03 04 05 06  - JJK, bestfriends to lovers | A, F

Better Late Than Never - JJK drabble, exes AU, fake dating (I love this scenario, there’s one funny moment here with Jungkook saying his feelings through a door) | A, F

@justimajin - another favorite of mine - her fics actually try different genres/scenarios and are usually series. I find it fun to wait on episodes weekly. A consistent writer too. See masterlist here. Selected works:

Catching a Case of Doctor Blues - KTH, medical AU, enemies to lovers, slice of life

Swapped - JJK, body swap, really fluffy! I reviewed it before and screamed at how fluffy this is 😍 | tooth-rotting fluff

A Lone Wolf’s Howl - JJK, werewolf AU, sort of enemies/rivals, hunter AU, bestfriend. Note: there is a chapter with smut, you can skip that portion | A, F, S

@bubmyg​ - oh wow her works are just tooth-rotting fluffy goodness too (especially the Yoongi drabbles/one shots). But please check her fics for Tae and Koo. My picks:

Can’t Fake a Feeling - KTH, F2L, Fake Dating, College AU, Fuckboy (not smut)

Extra Cheese Sauce, Please - KTH, F2L, College, friends keep setting them up

Strawberry Boy - JJK, I just reblogged this weeks ago so you probably have read this | tooth-rotting fluff

Wonder - pool boy!jungkook x journalist!reader | F

Not a Date - JJK | one shot + drabble series, kinda E2L. cute |  tooth-rotting fluff

Dare to Begin - JJK | college au, idiots to lovers, broke college students |  tooth-rotting fluff

gcfguk + idcilh - a youtuber!jeongguk drabble series | F

you can check their masterlist for the other drabbles and fics I haven’t read/included

@cupofteaguk - a writer whose fics end up in my fic rec lists regularly. When I get asked about certain tropes, I always remember one or two of her fics. Their Reputation Series is binge-worthy but they also have plenty of scenarios/tropes to choose from. You can find a lot of KTH or JJK fluff-based fics here (or other members too):

the maze to you - KTH |  soulmate au | angst

along the boardwalk - KTH | skater boy/college au | fluff

it’s all fun & games - JJK | fake dating au | fluff

say you won’t let go - JJK | soulmate au | fluff

on the road (to you) - JJK |  road trip/strangers to lovers au | fluff

new romantics - JJK | hogwarts au, quidditch player, enemies to lovers | F, A

@crystaljins - another writer with fics that have well-developed plot, great angst and great endings. I recommend all (check other members’ fics here). Extra love for:

Take a Chance - JJK | series [7/7] | 63k | Hanahaki AU, Coworker AU, Boss!Reader, Wedding Planner AU | A, F | My review  ⭐ #holygrailfic

Schemes and Tricks to Win Her Heart - KTH | series [5/5] | 22.5k | Fake Dating, feat Chaebol/Rich Seokjin, Taehyung is Jin’s Little Brother, and OC is Tae’s bestfriend

I haven’t read the new Taehyung Christmas fic yet but give it a spin =)

@springbean - I love her story concepts and ideas! When I discovered her, I just binged on their work and I enjoy every new fic she releases. My personal favorites are listed below, but you can also check her masterlist here:

Onyx - JJK | cyberpunk AU, abo dynamics (it is sooo interesting to use abo dynamics this way. Usually abo is associated with werewolf aus but this is like a social classification system in this fic. It is still ongoing but it’s the type of story you can read and remember easily so in case it gets updated you can jump into the next chapter)  ongoing | A, F

Wolfsbane - KTH | Werewolf AU, college, soulmates (included in my KTH werewolf fic recs)

Cursed - JJK | Prince x Mage/Witch, Fantasy, Medieval, E2L, action (basically has all AUs I like) ongoing

Enshrined - JJK | this is new! fantasy, fae world, isekai, childhood friends, eventual smut (?) but since we’re not there yet you can still read it smut-less  ongoing

@army-author - another prolific writer with a catalog you can binge on. I recently reblogged/reviewed some of my favorites but believe me there are more (I am just lazy with reviewing and such). Personal faves:

Gamomania - JJK | childhood friends | tooth-rotting fluff, slight S

X and O - KTH | fake dating, single parent, teacher AU

A Monster Crush - KTH | childhood friends, angst, fluff, horror, implied S   ongoing

All This Stigma - KTH | fwb au, unplanned pregnancy, arranged marriage, divorce, really angsty but I love it!

The Village Idiots - JJK | soulmate au, childhood friends, they’re soulmate-less (or are they?) |  tooth-rotting fluff

The Alchemy of Amor - JJK | fantasy au, royalty au, enemies to lovers (new) | F

Fire and Ice - JJK | oh this is probably the first I’ve read from the author, E2L but make it fluffy rivals (he’s fire and she can yield ice), fantasy au, magic | F

Black and White Christmas - JJK | Office AU | F

@thedefinitionofbts - I love how emotionally invested I get when reading their fics. Most of their fics are smut-less but deeply rooted in emotions so I remember the story a lot even if I’ve read some years or months ago (I said in my werewolf fic rec list that there’s this Jungkook fic of theirs that’s really sad and I still imagine him waiting for OC.) Just powerful storytelling. You can check their masterlist and mind the fics with smut. I wanted to list my favorites here but I’ll end up listing everything. If you want to start a fic, I recommend:

A Story that We Paint - KTH x R x JJK | Sci-fi, College AU, Lucid Dreams AU | A, slight F

Our First and Last - JJK, VMIN | Soulmate AU, Sci-Fi | A, F

Kingdom of Crystal Snow - KTH | Christmas, Royalty (yay something purely fluffy)

Corner of the Universe - KTH | Reincarnation AU

other fics I like have S content or too sad

@threeletterslife - I love her fics because they make me dwell and ponder on things but themes are very heavy (I think she has one crack fic though). No smut and you can try all her works if you are in the mood for angst, some pondering, etc. Masterlist here. You can read the Love Chaser Series (though you have to read the Yoongi series first before reading Jungkook’s, it’s one universe).

Whipped with a Cherry on Top - KTH | friends to lovers, crack

The Time Traveler’s Playbook - KTH | time travel AU | F, A

Cuss Out - JJK | High school AU, crack | F

@artaefact - just feel good scenarios and I love her drabbles! I’ve reblogged and oohed aahed over the drabbles that are short but powerful scenarios.

incandesce + warmth drabble - JJK  (safe to say, you can read all their drabbles) | F

Aeturnal - KTH | fantasy au, royalty au (I loooove this. it has inexplicit S though, you can skip)

A Letter in Roses - KTH | husband au, valentine au

Calling You Mine - JJK | College AU, S2L, tooth-rotting fluff 

@augustbutwinter - a writer to watch out for. August delivers so much even with minimal word count; they can get you emotional (fluffy or angsty) and it is so easy to visualize the image she is trying to describe. Just wonderful. The words just flow easily too so the fics are not difficult to read/imagine. I recommend the ff:

My Tears Ricochet - KTH | ghost AU, roommate AU, fluff (sometimes angsty), drabble series ⭐⭐

Rose Coloured - JJK | post college AU, some sort of reunion with an old flame | F

@akinnie75 - What a wonderful storyteller. I would binge on her fics for their plot/storylines. Usually it feels as if you are reading a tale. Several of their fics ended up in my #holygrailfics (the namjoon and jimin ones). You can try:

Ghost Marriage - JJK | fantasy, idol au, kind of arranged marriage | A, F

Until Spring 1 | 2 - JJK | Romance, Fantasy, visited the Freesia Island for Spring but taken for Arranged Marriage instead | A, F

Moonchild - KTH | a tale about the legendary Moonchild, a mythical creature known for its ability to heal life of all sorts

🌷ggukkienote:

I’d also like to recommend checking the fics in each of the reading lists and Fic Recs by theme. You’ll find these lists in the NAVI page. Fics/Titles included per list are usually tagged for A/S/F content.

I will update this once I remember other authors that focus on A/F

Part 2 (Fic Recs) - linked top of this post

[heartcal]

distant; c.h.

it’s finally here omg and being posted on time too (barely)!

this was an idea i started writing back in late 2015 (literally the first few paragraphs are from the old draft with some editing) and while cleaning up my drafts i decided to continue it since i liked it :^D

pairing: calum hood x reader (i tried to make it gender neutral so if i used pronouns while describing the reader, i apologize and feel free to let me know!)

summary: you feel like the relationship is deteriorating because he’s gotten distant. you want to bring it up with him, but how can you when he doesn’t realize something is wrong? and why does it invoke a hurtful argument when you voice your feelings?

warnings: none really other than some cursing, arguing, and cal’s kinda an ass sorry lol

genre: angst, very angtsy 

wc: 2,645

my masterlist!

The candle flickered on the coffee table as the sound of rain hitting the roof was prominent. Total silence engulfed you as you finally made up your mind. Your thoughts were running wild for at least the past two hours as you went through numerous scenarios on how he’d react.

Calum had been acting different ever since he came home from tour. It felt like he was distancing himself from you as he began to hang out with his friends right as he got the time off. He already planned visits to his family, which were coming up very soon. He would text you, but they’d only be a couple of words or no more than four sentences a day. At first, you believed it was because he was tired from tour, and honestly who wouldn’t be tired if they had been on a tour bus and planes for almost a year with minimal breaks?

You understood his profession and what comes along with it, you really do.

But when you saw fan pictures or paparazzi pictures of your boyfriend having a hell of a time, obviously without you, it hurt.

You’re not clingy at all; you want him to have a lot of fun considering his age and, due to his fame, he can’t do a lot of the stuff you and other non-famous people can do. You’re not clingy at all, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him, especially now that he’s back from tour and soon would be promoting yet another album.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down and bring forth your final thoughts on the situation. A break-up is the last thing you want to do. You want to work out whatever is happening between you two, talk it out, and straighten out any knots within the relationship. You don’t want to throw away the past two and a half years, and possibly the five years of friendship.

When you two got together it didn’t come as a surprise to those close to you. The guys were waiting for it to happen, and when it did they didn’t even bat an eye. Your family already thought the two of you were dating, while Calum’s family let out a sigh of relief when the news came out because they saw how happy you made him as a friend.

It started as a test; to see if this is what you want and if it feels right. It did, more than it should if you had to be honest. It almost scared you just how normal it felt to be with him, and the same can be said for him. You had minimal arguments, minimal disagreements; the good outweighed the bad.

But the honeymoon phase can only last so long.

The first time he went on tour when you got together, it was a promotional tour. He wasn’t gone for a long time but he did travel often. That left little to no time to talk, text, or facetime. When he was able to contact you, it was short, but he managed to make it worth it with sweet words and words of encouragement from you.

The second time was a domestic promotional tour. He had asked you to join him, and after getting the OK to work remotely from your boss, you agreed to join him. It was almost like a vacation for you, even if Calum was gone most of the day. On his days off, or when he had part of the day off, it was spent with you alone or with the guys plus you and their significant others.

The third tour was when things started to dwindle. Six months after their third album was released, they went on tour and contact was hard to get. You joined him for a month or two, but after leaving to get back to work, it began to feel like the first time he went on tour. Towards the end of the tour he frequently contacted you, stating that he was, “stressed from the constant traveling,” and he had a hard time keeping up with what day it was.

You didn’t think about it much. Touring like that can strain anyone, amateur or pro. But what you couldn’t understand was how he behaved after the tour. After the first two tours, it was fine, but after tour number three you noticed how distant he would get. Ignoring calls and texts, but updating social media at any time of day and night. It struck you as odd, but he eventually came around with an apology and lots of makeup dates.

Now after tour number four, he’s as distant as ever. You gave him some space but he never came around. It’s been two and a half weeks since you’ve had proper contact.

Running over what you want to say to him in your head, you miss the knocks on your front door. You also miss the sound of your lock turning and the door opening.

“There you are,” You jump at that, turning towards the front door with a hand on your heart.

“What—how did you get in?” You stumble, gone are the thoughts you had previously.

Calum holds his right hand up, his set of keys and key chains jingling as he shakes his hand lightly. He has a small smile on as he speaks, “You gave me a copy, remember?”

You stare blankly at him, recalling the time when you finally moved out of the apartment you shared with an old friend and their partner. You were so happy that you found a place to live on your own, closer to work and closer to Calum. You made him a copy so that he knew he was welcome (and also for safety reasons).

You nod with a hum in response, your eyes moving to the painting a few feet away from him.

If he notices your behavior, he doesn’t mention it as he puts his keys on the hook next to your while taking off his shoes (something you nagged him about since the living room had carpeting).

You knew you had to bring it up. It was sitting on your tongue but your brain couldn’t form the words and sentences that you had previously thought of.

He sighs out as he takes a seat next to you on your couch, his right arm stretched behind you on the back of the couch while his left arm rested on the arm.

You sat stiff, not leaning back or into him no matter how much you craved it. Rather than giving in, you were more focused on the anger starting to bubble up inside of you. How can he act like nothing is wrong after ignoring you for almost three weeks?

“You’re quiet tonight,” he retracts his arm from the back of the couch and moves his hand to your forehead, “You feeling okay?”

When he brings his other hand up to his own forehead, you smack his arm away.

You scoff, letting your anger show, “Really, Calum?”

His puzzled look pushes you over and you stand up.

“What?” He asks as his eyes follow you as you head to the window.

Taking a deep breath and staring out at the city below, you realize that it’s now or never. Releasing the breath as a sigh, you turn towards him.

“Is something wrong?” He questions again.

“I know that tour takes a lot out of you,” you begin, willing yourself to bring your eyes up to meet his, “but you’ve been distant—more than usual. I know you want some time to yourself after touring, and I give you the time, but I can’t help but feel ignored Calum.”

Calum stands with a frown, bringing his hands up to his head before running them down his face with a sigh. His mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. He stands in front of his seat on the couch, hands on his hips and shoulders slumped. He wants to say something, wants to tell you that he’s not ignoring you, but he can’t bring himself to say so.

“I’ve seen the pictures of you out with your friends. I’m happy you’re spending time with them, that you’re out there having fun because I know you haven’t seen them in so long. And your family, too. But I would like to spend time with you before you head out again.”

“I spent a lot of time with you before I left,” he mumbles, taking a few steps towards you.

“I know-” you hold your hand up to stop him from getting closer, “but you also spent plenty of time with your friends.”

He takes another step towards you, ignoring your signal. His body language shows that he doesn’t want to argue; his steps are small, head tilted only slightly, his eyes are staring intently at you.

It’s silent. Your breathing picks up as you hold back frustrated tears, which causes Calum’s own breathing to falter. He moves his jaw to help ease the tension he feels – a tick you know he picked up from a tour crew member – and shakes his hands as if he was trying to rid them of something.

He inhales, eyes on the floor at his feet, “I feel like we spend too much time together.”

Ouch. His words had a sharp impact, like a punch to the gut when you least expect it. The kind of heart-dropping, breathless pain.

“You think—do you think I’m clingy?” The word leaves a bad taste in your mouth because you felt that you were far from it.

“That’s not what I said—,” he stops, taking in his lower lip with a hand ruffling the hair on his head, “—that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“But that’s what you’re implying,” you accuse with narrow eyes.

He shakes his head, growing upset with how this night is turning out. He came over to spend time with you, knowing that when comes back from visiting his family he will have only a couple more days of rest before putting all his focus on the new album.

“Look,” he sighs and sits on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands, “all I’m saying is, I wanted to spend some time with my friends since I don’t see them as often as I see you.”

Your jaw tightens, “I understand that, but what about our relationship?”

“What about it?”

“It doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore,” you’re blunt, straight to point out how you feel.

He scoffs, “Cut the bullshit.”

Your speechless, watching him stand up and walk to the other side of the living room. The rain outside has gotten louder with an occasional rumble in the distance, but you’re focused on how he brushed off how you felt like it wasn’t important.

“Just because I don’t spend all my time with you doesn’t mean we’re not in a relationship,” he says, resting his left arm on the bookshelf against the wall, “I have other relationships to manage besides ours.”

“You barely manage this one, Calum,” a tear threatens to spill over your lower lid, “Two and a half weeks of little to no contact, and you suddenly show up to my apartment as if everything is fine? I sat here wondering if something happened on tour that was making you this distant, but from what I’ve seen on Twitter and Instagram…you’re doing just fine. You’re smiling, you’re laughing—you’re seemingly your usual self. So why did all my texts get left on read, no response at all, especially when I just wanted to know that you were okay?”

He sucks his teeth, a humorless laugh leaving his lips as he turns to look at you, “You’re overreacting.”

Another jab to the heart, and this time you let the tears freely fall down your cheeks.

He stands up straight and licks his lips, eyes dancing around the room. They bounce over photos of you with your friends, family, and him. In the back of his mind, he knows this is too much. He knows his words may be overstepping and hurtful, but he can’t see where you’re coming from.

“I’m entitled to my own life, just like you. I have friends I want to hang out with, just like you. Sometimes I need time to myself away from you. Maybe you were right earlier, maybe you are clingy.”

He watches as your tears fall, the pained expression you wear didn’t go unnoticed but he does choose to overlook it.

He cuts you off when your mouth begins to open, “Maybe another thing you were right about before, this doesn’t feel like a relationship, right?”

He rolls his shoulders, jaw clenched as he walks to the front door. Your eyes are covered with unshed tears, previous tears leaving trails down your cheeks and nose. He sees them, there’s a pounding in his brain that’s trying to take control so he can go over and console you with unlimited apologies. But he doesn’t.

Calum grabs his keys, taking off your key and tossing it to your feet. He slides his shoes on, his movements rough as his breathing gets heavier. His eyes reach yours and those dark brown eyes you grew to love have now become hurtful, clouded by an unrecognizable emotion.

His hand blindly reaches for the lock, turning it before lowering to the handle, “If this relationship doesn’t feel like one, let’s end it, yeah?”

Without another word, he opens the door and leaves. Your eyes shed the built-up tears as they fall towards the spare key on the ground.

You don’t know how it came to this. You had your mind made up of how you wanted the conversation to go, what to do if worst comes to worst and how to repair the relationship itself. You weren’t expecting him to come over. Once he walked through that door all your thoughts evaporated and you were left grasping for any remaining thoughts.

You kneel to pick up the key, but your knees are too weak to stand back up. The key glares at you, reminding you painfully of what once was.

But behind your front door stands Calum, a racing mind and pounding heart. He stares at the floor and it finally dawns on him. Mindlessly he’s ended up outside, the warm air of your apartment lobby did not prepare him for the chilly rain outside. By the time he’s in his car, he’s soaked and he’s uncomfortable.

He doesn’t start the car, instead, he reaches for the steering wheel and grips it tightly. The emotions wash over him and the tears slide down as fast as they formed. He shakily inhales, followed by a sob and a sniffle.

The rain is heavy, muting his sobs to his own ears. A sharp crack of thunder makes him jump, and after a few more sniffles and constant wiping of his cheeks, he starts his car and drives back home.

It’s late when you go to bed. The numbing pain in your chest ruins your chances of a good night’s sleep, but selflessly you wished Calum a goodnight before attempting to sleep.

Calum sleeps on his couch, too tired to bring himself to his bed but too hurt to sleep. His eyes drift to his phone on the coffee table when it vibrates; a message from a groupchat talking about an outing scheduled for tomorrow. His sore eyes shut and he turns away from the table.

In the darkness, he sees your pained expression, the way you shrunk as he threw those harsh words at you. It’s an image that will be imprinted forever in his mind, and he regrets everything.

~~~

part two!

[savrenim]

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

[silentauroriamthereal]

2020 fic year in review

I was tagged by my lovely @khorazir! Thanks, you! 

Total number of completed stories: Three, but two of them were fairly long? I wrote: 

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: John/Sherlock, 50,689 words, explicit, John POV. Set in New York, because I was itching to go there and couldn’t, and setting a fic somewhere is the next best thing. Probably my most political fic to date, this one was a deliberate reversal of the fake-couple-for-a-case trope, aka I wanted to create a setting wherein John and Sherlock become a couple during a case but need to keep it a secret for the sake of the case. So I set it at a massive, anti-gay conference in the US. Naturally. :P 

Sine Nomine: John/Sherlock, 45,626 words, explicit, mostly John POV with sections of Mycroft and Sherlock POV as well. In fact, though the sections aren’t equal in length, it’s symmetrical: it goes Mycroft POV/John POV/Sherlock POV/John POV/Mycroft POV. This story has a dark premise and a particularly dark setting for one section. It’s based on the concept of Mycroft rewatching the footage of John beating Sherlock in the morgue for the hundredth time or so and revisiting the question of whether John had been the making of his brother, or made him worse than ever. He’s definitely come to the latter conclusion, but decides to give John one final chance in the form of a test. John, for his own reasons, makes what Mycroft deems the incorrect choice, and Mycroft basically sends him into a death trap. The setting of this place is officially set in Serbia with indirect hints at events similar to the Srebrenica Genocide in Bosnia, but the actual setting is Syria, which I’ve just spent the past year studying intensely. Putting a slice of that into the dark core of this story, albeit disguised as another place, was strangely cathartic for me. The title, which is Latin for “no name”, is a double reference to the village here, which Sherlock and Mycroft never name, ominously referring to it only as “the village”, both to each other and to John, as well as John’s never-named or owned feelings for Sherlock. This one is close to my heart for a lot of reasons, but most of all because of Syria. Also, the vast majority of the time in my writing, I choose a singular POV and stick to it very closely for the entire story. Choosing to rotate between these three men essentially allowed me to show how they’re all justified in their own decisions here, and to examine the relationships between all three of them. It’s a story about reckonings and eventual, hard-won reconciliations. 

The Secret of Hazel Grange. Sherlock/John, 18,181 words, explicit, Sherlock POV. I’m going to claim that the reason I only managed to swing three fics this entire year is partly that I put another project on hold in order to write this one, lol. This is the third Christmas fic I’ve written and I’m happy with how it came out. It’s also the only story I’ve written that’s explicitly set during this pandemic, and during the second London lockdown, which is eerily similar to the code red lockdown my own city is in, so it just felt right. It’s been a somewhat miserable holiday season for me (so many reasons, including unhappiness at work and an illegally high rent increase that my apartment building is putting through, on top of the pandemic and all of that isolation and all of those cancellations), so writing some happy endings for someone else was pure escapism for me. Hopeful for others, too! 

Total word count: 114,496 words of posted fic. 130,796 if we’re counting my work-in-progress that got interrupted for the Christmas fic. :)

Fandoms written in: BBC Sherlock.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? I wrote about what I thought I expected to be able to write. Right now, I have a full-time job, a part-time job, and then freelance work, all to attempt to make ends meet, so I have very little spare time to write in, unfortunately. So getting over 100k words in is actually somewhat miraculous to me. It feels like not very much when it’s just three stories, but I guess it still amounts to a fair number of words? 

What’s  your own favourite story of the year? Picking favourites is always tough, but for the Syria connection, I’d have to go with Sine Nomine. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? I suppose that going so hard on the whole Republican anti-gay groups thing could be considered “risky” in some circles, but not really hereabouts! LGBTQ+ rights is one of my areas of advocacy (in fact, I’m a founding member of the Rainbow Equity Council at my workplace and spent a crap ton of time this month drafting governance documentation for it), but genocides are the issue that are really closer to my heart, so the Syria connection, even if it wasn’t named outright, could also be seen as a “dangerously” political stance, I suppose. But compared to other writing choices (like Scars, which features actual rape, or any of my Freebatch stuff, or any of the stories where Mary is an overt terrorist (rather than “just” a freelance assassin, lol)), I don’t really think I was terribly risky this year. 

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? The first item on the agenda is to get back to work on Nocturne, my WIP. After that, we’ll see. That said, I STILL would like to get back to searching for an agent for my novel, which is strongly based on Against the Rest of the World. I would also like to write that Johnlock cookbook I keep vaguely promising (it would feature recipes from my fics), and in a quirky “other” sort of project, I also wrote a heap of haikus about Republicans this fall that I’d like to see about getting published. Want a taste? Sure you do. I give you: 

Brett Kavanaugh

Brett has a face like

a snarly little hedgehog.

He likes beer, okay?!

Mitch McConnell

Moscow Mitch is a

corrupt turtle who keeps his

balls in his neck pouch

Most popular story of the year? Well, the longer a story is posted, the more time it has to collect hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments, obviously, so that makes The Four Horsemen the clear winner here. 

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: From this year or in general? :P I often find that my plottiest, most detailed, most researched stories that I personally think contain some of my most thoughtful writing are the ones that get the least attention. For instance, after series 3 aired, I wrote three back-to-back intensely-detailed series 3 fix-it fics (which all, to their credit, do get plenty of attention, though none so much as Vena Cava, the third of the three). Then I wrote a light-hearted, almost-crack porn fic, more as mental relaxation than any sort of literary genius, and that fic - Best of Three - remains my most wildly-popular story of anything I’ve ever written. It used to frustrate me, but now I’m just grateful to have anyone read anything of mine. But along that theme, yeah: the most complex of this year’s stories (Sine Nomine) is probably the one I feel is the least appreciated, but that’s also fine. No complaints here - I’m very lucky to have the readership I have!! 

Most fun story to write: Sine Nomine, for all the reasons I talked about above, though I’d also call this the most emotionally-invested story of mine from this past year. That said, setting any story in Manhattan is always going to be fun, and I loved researching approximately 500 holiday rental properties in various parts of England in order to finally just create my own, aka Hazel Grange, lol. 

Most unintentionally telling story: Ha, well, if you weren’t sure about my stance on gay rights, marriage equality, or Republicans in general, The Four Horsemen should clear that up pretty distinctly, lol! 

Biggest disappointment: Just that I haven’t had more time to write. 

Biggest surprise: Possibly that I felt so able to represent all three POVs in Sine Nomine as equally as I did. By that, I don’t mean being able to write in their perspectives, but rather in presenting their arguments with (I hope) equal persuasion: Mycroft thinks that John’s entire presence in Sherlock’s life has spelled nothing but disaster for Sherlock. He’s arguably not wrong. He decides that John is out of chances, and that he’s justified in being the one to make that call. Sherlock disagrees, hard, and he’s not wrong. John makes the choice he makes for his daughter, not for the choice Mycroft gives him between choosing either Mary or Sherlock once and for all, and he’s not wrong to have done that, or unjustified in wanting to go and demand some answers from Mary, who isn’t dead after all, here. But then I think that their various reasons for reconciliation are all equally justified, too. I hope! Usually when you stick to one perspective, the story naturally gears itself to persuade the reader to identify with that one character and to take their side. Here, I hope I manage to juggle the balance fairly equally. 

I don’t know who’s been tagged in this already, but I’ll tag: @totallysilvergirl, @blogstandbygo, @nade2308, @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock, @hubblegleeflower, and anyone else who writes. 

[ljandersen]

When I read your works, I always think: "How does she do it?" You know I love your fics with all my heart and I'd like to ask, if you don't mind, how do you usually plan the process of writing your long fics? Do you know in advance what the ending of your fic will be? Once you mentioned that it took you 2 years to write the first draft of "Sideways". Do you get tired of this amount of work while writing? What inspires you to keep writing?

You also mentioned that you wrote the first draft of “Burning Barriers” in four months. I think it's a hell of a fast speed for such a complex story. It seems to me that self-discipline plays an important role here, doesn't it?

What a wonderful surprise to find this in my inbox!  Thank you for the fun ask.  I love talking about writing as you probably know.  It’s always interesting to discusses processes.  Also, it means so much to me that you appreciate my writing that much and want to know more about it!

Do I know the ending?  I won’t write a story unless I know the ending.  Endings make or break stories to me.  I may enjoy a book series right up to the conclusion, but if the ending is unsatisfying or feels contrived then it changes how I see the whole story.  I wouldn’t recommend the story.  One of my biggest issues with bad endings is when they feel emotionally manipulative.  I read the whole story upset over these two characters who couldn’t be together because of X, but now it’s the ending, and X isn’t such a big deal after all.  Then why did I waste 100 k words worrying about X when all along the writer knew, in the end, it was no big deal?

The same goes with a story about a character choosing between two incompatible options.  If the conclusion is the character can have both, have their cake and eat it too, then there better be something extraordinarily clever or well-arranged to make me feel like that’s not just a cheap out.  Again, I feel like I wasted my time and emotions worrying about what the author knew all along was a non-issue.  Endings, to me, require real sacrifices, real decisions, and problems that need to be solved head-on.  It has to be solved by the protagonist and has to gratify my emotional investment not invalidate it. 

When it comes to the process of writing, I consider what will make the most satisfying ending.  I try to identify the barriers to that ending feeling the best it can feel.  While writing the story, I address those barriers.  By the time the ending arrives, I want it to feel like the story had lead up to a natural and satisfying conclusion.  

I don’t outline my stories, but I know the steps along the way.  The character wants to achieve X, and that’s what the story is about.  The character will do A which leads to B which leads to C which leads to the ending involving X.  Along with the main plot, there are subplot, the most important usually being the OTP’s relationship. Where should the conclusion to that subplot fall in relationship to the main storyline?  To have an effective romance, for me, the progression of plot and character relationship are interrelated, one affecting the other.  In that way, the progression of the subplot aligns with the structure I’ve already decided for the main plot.

“Sideways” took me about two years, but in that time, I also wrote “Eighteen Years and Five Months” (10k), “The Favorite” (2.5k), “About Horizon” (30k), and “About Mars” (66k).  So, probably six months of those two years were writing and posting others stories.  It was important to have that break and have something to share with the fandom when I couldn’t share my main work.  “Sideways” also had the advantage of a lot of storylines too, which provided variety and opportunity for a break.  There are essentially four: paragon timeline current, paragon timeline past, renegade timeline current, and renegade timeline past.  I could switch between them when I got frustrated or run down with the other storyline. 

What inspires me to write is the intrinsic joy I get from writing itself, but also the anticipation of someone’s reaction when reading it.  I look forward to the day I get to share the story with others.  I wonder what people will think of different parts.  I’m sure all writers must think that way while working on a story.  For me, it’s just a lot further into the future with a project the size of “Sideways” to actually realize that reward.  

It does take a certain level of self-discipline.  I think above anything for my own writing process there’s heavy reliance on delayed gratification.  What I’m posting now I wrote years ago.  I waited a long time to share the story.  I’ve wondered for a really long time what a reader’s reaction will be to a scene.  Before I post, the only person who has ever read those words on the screen is me.  Suddenly, being able to share that with another person (or people) is meaningful.  It’s something I’ve looked forward to for a very long time.  In that way, for me, I think self-discipline and the ability to delay gratification are key elements in completing a large project.

Thank you for the ask!  It means so much to me that you’re interested in my stories and curious to know the background.  It’s incredibly flattering! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk about something I enjoy.

[soldouthaz]

hi!! these past few months i’ve gotten several asks about all different parts of my writing process and i thought i’d go ahead and make a full post that i can refer people back to in the future! with the fests coming up as well hopefully it may help someone because i know i always love reading about author’s processes! feel free to let me know if i’ve forgotten anything :) 

DISCLAIMER: this is MY writing process. these are my own opinions and maybe not methods that will work blanketly for everyone. writing is different for every person and you should always do what works best for you personally! 

this post will be split into four parts - before, during, after, and other tips and things to remember :)

inspiration & idea 

this is typically either the easiest or the absolute most difficult part of writing a fic. sometimes you begin with an exact idea and other times you want to write but have no idea where to start. personally i tend to draw inspiration from a few places in particular. writing prompt and dialogue blogs, although sometimes a bit cliche, are a huge help when trying to come up with ideas for scenes and outlines. these are some good ones – here, here, and here if you need some inspiration! pinterest and weheartit are also great places to search for inspiration both before or after you’ve settled on an idea. find an aesthetic you like and base the characters around it, do some world-building, create folders for your characters - this is a good place to reference back to while you’re writing! at this point i just try to pick something that i feel like ‘calls to me’ and leave the rest for later. the last avenue that i use to think of fic ideas is real life. i think of small things that have happened to me or to someone i know and make them much more dramatic and layered. add in some fluff or angst or whatever aspect fits and usually a storyline begins to carve itself!

outline 

once you have an idea, making an outline can help you figure out if it’s going to work for you or not. nailing down the important details and plot points before you begin writing is crucial so that you have a purpose to your scenes, so that things don’t feel repetitive or pointless. when i outline i tend to organize by word count. for instance, by the 5k mark let’s say i’d like to already have established what character A does for a living and some of their interests, and i’d like character B to be vaguely introduced. by 10k i’d like the characters to have formed a friendship and for the conflict to have been introduced, so on and so forth. the plot spacing may differ based on the goal word count for a fic (do things happen quickly or is it a slow burn? etc.). 

next I make a tentative timeline for the fic. I have to give myself sufficient time to plan and to write without rushing myself, but also make it reasonable enough that i can still look forward to it! writing takes different amounts of time for different people, but the more you write the more you’ll be able to estimate how long a certain word count is going to take you to complete. also, as far as advice goes, decide if you’re going to write everything and publish at once or if you’re going to upload weekly chapters, etc. i strongly recommend publishing a full work at once. typically people shy away from unfinished works and it can be very disheartening when there are almost no reads. publishing all at once will raise the chances of your fic being read and shared and will also help you as a writer not to make mistakes because you are able to go back and fix/edit certain plot points as you write. 

organization 

if you have more than one wip at a time, it can be really helpful to have some sort of organization in place. i write primarily in google docs, so i have one master doc with all of my wip information inside of it. i use a numbered chart (the docs themselves are titled with numbers only and correspond to the number in the chart) that has the tentative title, the goal word count, the current word count, which pov i plan to write from, and an estimated posting date. you can also limit the number of wips you have this way.once a work is published i move it from my wip list to my completed list, with the title, the final word count, and a link to the posted story. this part is optional, it just helps me to be able to see all of it in one place. i’ve found this method to be much more helpful than just making random notes on my phone that i forget about within the hour!

research 

depending on the topic of your fic and the setting, you may need to do some research beforehand. if it’s historical, I brush up on the history of it and watch some films or read some books about the time period to get a feel for the vernacular and style, etc.. if the protagonist has a job i’m unfamiliar with I search up what they do, how much they make, where they work, and things like that. it’s unlikely that someone is going to fact check every little thing, but accuracy when it comes to these topics is very admirable and i feel like it really adds a lot of depth and authenticity to a fic. 

another fun activity for this portion of planning is designing the characters. i try to do this for a lot of mine and experiment with personality traits, quirks, and appearances, and to create a character that feels layered as opposed to just surface level. it’s fun for me to figure out their morals and motives and opinions and to play around with those and see if they can be changed throughout the course of the story. an interesting activity here is to take personality tests from what you think they would answer about themselves! then, even if only subconsciously, your character now has interests and hobbies and feels more real, which will definitely show through when you write. there are some for you to take here, here, here, and here, and this is also a good resource.

atmosphere 

(meaning in real life, not the setting of a fic). i tend to produce what i feel is my best work at night, after dinner when i have nothing else to do for the day and i can just relax. having a designated time and space to write really helps with motivation and focus, and can be the difference in accomplishing your time goals for the fic. feel free to try different things like adding music while you write (i write with headphones in and music blasting!) and adjust your surroundings to your liking. put on noise cancelling headphones, stop the clock that keeps ticking in the background or turn up the floor fan to drown other things out, or play some ambience videos from youtube to help you focus. whatever works! sometimes i also create playlists for my fics that i listen to while writing them which can add some more depth to the story too! being comfortable and not distracted are my two main requirements. also, unless it’s for music or research purposes, i would suggest distancing a bit from your phone as well!

word vomit 

this is one of the most frustrating parts of writing but i can’t explain how many times it’s helped me, especially when i’m trying to reach a certain word count. i like to do an exercise when i don’t know what to write or i just have a vague idea where i sit down and just write. i don’t let myself backspace anything (unless it’s a small typo or something minor like that) and i just see where i end up. the reason why this is so helpful is because a lot of times subconsciously our brains already have some kind of idea of a direction to go in or what should be included. though this rough draft almost never makes it into my final piece and frankly doesn’t make much sense, i’m able to go back and read over it and think oh! that’s a good point, i can also write about [random plot point] here! as i think of it.

dialogue 

the very first part of a scene that i write is the dialogue. personally i find it the easiest, and it helps me make a skeleton of a scene where i only have to fill in the descriptions in between. most of the time getting the dialogue written can help to visualize a scene and make conversation flow easily when you aren’t distracted with everything else going on in the scene. a lot of times if you’re focused on what a background character is doing the actual speaking may end up choppy or not make sense when you’re finished with it, which is usually my issue. this method is a good idea to use if you find yourself stuck on a scene or if you don’t know what you want the setting to be yet. if the dialogue you wrote doesn’t fit just right once you’ve added in the rest of the scene, you can always alter it to your liking.

taking breaks 

this is the key to staying motivated for me. if i push myself too hard or write for too long i get frustrated and struggle to keep the flow going. it’s important to take a break when that happens because it becomes very obvious in your writing when you aren’t inspired. you’re more likely to take the easy way out of conflicts and dialogue and it could completely change the tone of the fic. by this i don’t mean procrastinate writing, but definitely make sure not to over-write. writing should be fun, not stressful.

similar fics 

this step is 100% optional, but i find that it really helps me. when i read other author’s fics and i get inspired, the scene really sticks in my brain. to avoid accidentally copying someone’s ideas from their own fic, if i know that i’m writing something similar, i avoid reading any fic with a similar premise during the entire writing process. even if i think i won’t, often times i’ll subconsciously mirror a scene or a piece of dialogue from another fic without meaning to. this is definitely something to look for when you’re reading it back over!

balanced elements 

this step really just depends on the type of fic i’m going for, but i’ve found that fics with some balance to them tend to do better than others. by this i mean fics that have a little of each important element like angst, fluff, smut, etc.. of course, this differs from fic to fic depending on the plot. if it’s a pwp, obviously the main element will be smut. if it’s got some heavy topics in it it may be primarily angst, or a holiday fic might be just fluff. all of these are okay on their own but it’s super easy to mix them together to create more realistic scenes and meaningful emotion in the dialogue. in a pwp i try to add some back story into it, something a little angsty or that gives the smut more meaning than just surface level (unless of course that’s what you’re going for!). on the flip side, you could take a really fluffy fic and at some smutty elements that enhance the love-y feelings from the fluff. even fluff/angst might be fun to explore! my point is that realistically we feel many emotions at once, all the time. when i write one alone my writing often feels like it falls flat and my message/theme doesn’t come across the way that i want it to.

resources 

there is a list of resources and links at the bottom of this post that may help during the writing process! they are ones that I have saved to look back at when I get stuck!

read it over 

this is my least favorite step. at this point, once i’ve finished the fic, i just want to post it as-is. i don’t feel like reading it over or doing edits - i just want to be finished with it. the benefits outweigh my dislike of it though, so i make myself do it anyway. it’s necessary (for me) to take a short break between when i finish it and when i read it over so that i can look at it with fresh eyes, just a day or two at least. the most important advice that i can give here would probably be not to delete anything you don’t like immediately. almost 100% of the time something can be re-written without being deleted, so if you don’t like the way a sentence is structured or the way a character speaks in a certain scene, don’t delete it! just see if you can rewrite it to model what you’re going for better. this step helps me to stay above my goal word count and not to let my insecurity get the best of me. everybody is their own worst critic, but usually there’s a reason you wrote something down, so give it every chance before you get rid of it altogether. i wrote about this here as well.

beta’s 

i’m going to link to another post i answered about betas here!

choosing a title 

when it’s time to choose a title for a fic i usually pick from one of four places. the first is a catchphrase from the fic. if there’s a recurring theme or nickname or description, it may be a good idea to title it the same thing so that readers will connect the title with that detail and remember it more easily in the future. the second place is from a song. there’s a lyric for nearly every different message and emotion, so there’s a high chance of being able to find one that goes hand-in-hand with a fic. the third place i look is in poems. i’m personally a big fan of lang leav, michael faudet, and bukowski, among others, and poetry usually also features a wide range of themes to choose from. the last idea i resort to when i can’t come up with anything else, which is to take a word that you feel represents the fic and translate it into another language like french or spanish, among others, or pick a word that has a meaning that corresponds with the fic. although there are no right or wrong titles, i would suggest to try not to pick a title that’s been used a lot already, or one that you think might be easily forgettable. even if you think it might be odd or not typical, people are going to remember it much more than if it’d just been a regular title.

choosing a summary 

this step is also kind of hit or miss for me! either i know from the beginning what i want my summary to be or i struggle up until the last second trying to come up with one. there isn’t really a right or wrong summary – except for one. my advice here is please, please don’t just put ‘i suck at summaries! just read it!’. people tend to gravitate toward fics if the author seems confident in their own abilities as opposed to someone quite literally pleading with them to read. other than that, there are several types of summaries that i see a lot of. personally i like to use a snippet from my fics in italics, so that people can get a feel of what my writing style is like beforehand. when i write drabbles though, i usually come up with a quick, occasionally witty tidbit of a summary to grab people’s attention. for example: 

a longer fic summary

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head. 

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin. 

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.” 

(from my fic baby blue)

+

a shorter fic summary

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare. 

and louis. 

(from my fic like it’s a game)

+

and sometimes people use both as well, like this one from @falsegoodnight​ ‘s fic, before we knew – 

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?” 

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles. It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it. He hates everything about his supposed soulmate. He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples. 

- 

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

+

and this link has some other ideas and tips for writing summaries that I found to be very helpful! 

posting a fic 

as far as tags and ratings go, THIS PART IS IMPORTANT! all of the steps are in one way or another, but this one is crucial that it’s done correctly. warnings and tags can absolutely make or break a fic. people tend to have very strong preferences when it comes to fics so i try to be as specific as possible without giving the entire story away in the tags. if you’re afraid of doing that, you can always put the full warnings in the note before the fic and tell people to check there before reading. i won’t list all of the possible triggers here but be sure to look those up if you are unfamiliar with some of the common ones. when it comes to tags, you’re always better safe than sorry! i like to tell people they’re free to message me and ask about something if they’re uncomfortable as well, so i can explain the trigger to them and why i tagged it that way and they can decide if they’d like to read based on a more informed basis. tagging correctly saves many people from being blindsided by something they didn’t want to see, and it also protects the author from some very angry messages about warnings.

archive of our own has an extensive support page with all of the info you could need about posting a work on their site including tags, ratings, warnings, co-authors, translations, HTML, and more. you can find it here.

as far as wattpad goes, i am definitely not as familiar with it. i have only a couple of my fics over there and a few translations that people have done for me, so my knowledge is very limited. this link seems to have some good resources for posting with them.

moodboards, graphics, covers 

i feel like the writing does most of the work itself, but a graphic can really help when it comes to the next part of the process, posting on social media. some people like to do moodboards, some people commission artists to draw for them, and some like to create their own graphics completely from scratch. like most aspects of fic, there isn’t really a right or wrong way to do this. i usually make moodboards for mine! i try to stick to an aesthetic or theme, and pick a cohesive amount of pictures to use (typically three, six, or nine so they line up nicely). the pictures i use are almost always from tumblr, pinterest, or weheartit. i put them together using an app and then put a blanket filter over all of it so that it all looks unified. if you used pinterest or weheartit to create concept boards for your idea in the beginning, now is a good time to use those photos and media as well! if you’re curious, the apps i use to create graphics, moodboards, and covers are as follows:

canva (mobile app & website) 

tons of templates to choose from as well as patterns and fonts! some things are locked unless you’re a member but most elements are free! easy to download and share and lots of options to customize and play around with. i strongly recommend the website on desktop or laptop as opposed to the mobile app so that the features are more easily accessible.

picsart (mobile app) 

when i need to make one quickly and i’m not near my laptop (or just need something simple) i use picsart to make a quick collage and put a filter over them. there are some limited text options as well but they are not as advanced as some of the others mentioned here.

photoshop express (mobile & desktop app) 

a step up from picsart, but slightly different elements. photoshop allows you to control a lot more once you know how to use it. there are some nice moodboard layouts here, as well as text and fonts, borders, and color controls. my favorite tool on here is the style transfer option under ‘effects’. a very quick and easy way to make your pictures look very cohesive!

vsco (mobile app) 

perfect for adding filters and things like vignette, grain, and fade. it also has some color controls to customize those. this is typically the last step before i post. and you can save custom presets that you like to use again!

and there are many others as well – almost all photo editing apps and software have a function that will allow you to make a collage or add text to a graphic! i know wattpad also requires a cover for their stories and I believe they have an app for that too!

here are some lovely graphics that have been made for my fics by @lovelylou​, @behisoneandonly​, @tomlinvelvet-ao3​​ and @brickredtoe​  as some examples :) 

and one that I've made as well: 

social media 

once i have a moodboard or graphic, i post the link to my fic on twitter and tumblr. in these posts i always make sure to include the title, the word count, and the summary. i try to make it as visually appealing as possibly by organizing the post accordingly and using fonts occasionally to catch people’s eye. this is the app i use for those on mobile! 

i think about the sizing as well – twitter has set dimensions for its photos and is known for displaying the photos awkwardly. tumblr on the other hand will let you upload up to ten photos of any size, and will display them fully without any cropping. according to this link a single photo on twitter should be 16:9. this page also has some good tips. and as far as i can tell if you’re using two or four photos, i would stick to the square images as that is what’s worked for me personally. i believe canva also has a template for a twitter post too.

write for yourself 

i think everyone knows this on some level but i tend to need to be reminded pretty frequently. if you’re heavily involved in social media and fic discourse, it can be very easy to get attached to what you know people want to see. writing should be a balance though, and you should always write for yourself before anyone else. we’re all free to write whatever we want and, even if it’s difficult, you shouldn’t ever let someone make you feel guilty for doing so. writing is an escape and a safe space but it can very quickly become something that causes stress and anxiety if you aren’t doing it for the right reasons.

don’t stress 

easier said than done, I know, but like I mentioned earlier, writing should be fun. a lot of people here don’t do it as their job and no one gets paid to write fics. these are projects that authors take on on their own time even while they work and handle everything else in their lives and those things should come first and foremost, as well as your mental health. this circles back into my earlier point – don’t let people make you feel guilty about anything like not finishing a fic on time or not writing exactly how they wanted it. authors are real people with real lives too and if things get to be too heavy or too stressful, they’re entitled to a break or to leave if that’s what’s best for them.

don’t be afraid to ask for help / validation 

there are tons of lovely writers in this community and others that would be more than happy to answer questions and give advice. if you’re struggling with something, there’s always somewhere to go to get help! 

however, the concept of validation is a bit trickier than the others. there’s a fine line ;) between asking for validation for a little boost, or relying completely on it. posting snippets and sneak peeks is a great way to get people excited about your work and to get yourself motivated if you’re feeling down, but i would suggest not to post one with the sole purpose of fishing for compliments. if you do, it can be very disheartening if you don’t receive any or the ones that you were looking to hear. in my opinion you need to be at least somewhat confident in your own abilities before you can expect other people to be. posting a snippet is more beneficial for when you’ve got a mental block or are stuck in a scene as opposed to just searching for validation for the sake of getting it.

cliche vs. copying 

there’s also two sides to this argument! you shouldn’t be afraid to write what you want, even if it seems like it’s a common trope or cliche topic. everybody writes in different styles and has different ideas and therefore may provide an entirely different view on what’s been poised as a ‘common’ theme. i think i could read a thousand of the ‘there was only one bed’ trope or the college au’s or the other popular plotlines. they’re popular for a reason and you shouldn’t be afraid to explore your own take on it! no one author ‘owns’ a specific trope. 

BUT there is a clear difference in doing your own take on something versus just copying what someone else has written exactly. the lines can get blurry here but it’s obvious to readers when something has been repeated word for word from another fic or when one too many elements are the same. to be on the safe side, always check to make sure that the specifics of your idea haven’t been done exactly before. 

resources 

+ masterpost of some resources 

+ how to keep readers engaged 

+ helpful tips 

+ 100 words for facial expressions 

+ how to write good villains 

+ good advice  

+ synonyms for commonly used words 

+ using metaphors and references 

+ more helpful tips 

+ descriptions

+ synonyms for ‘beautiful’ 

+ tips for dialogue 

+ writing enemies to lovers 

+ other helpful tips 

+ writing friends to lovers 

+ dystopian writing 

+ writing a realistic argument 

+ ways to cut word count 

+ how to write smut 01 * tw for body descriptions etc.  

+ how to write smut 02 

+ SUPER helpful smut vocab

+ how to write flirting 

+ how to write about grief 

+ even more helpful tips

[corpsentry]

behind the taylor swift gundam was in fact another, smaller gundam: a brief inquiry into the events of june 2020

so back in june this year june and i got together and we made this motherfucker of a story with this motherfucker of a thread to keep track of it all. but you already know that! and i’ve already got one foot and three elbows in my grave, so i’ll spare you the long-winded stuff. you wanna know how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks? i’ll tell you how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks-

-by linking you guys to copies of my planning documents because i feel like those words speak louder than any words i can offer in the present day. these are long documents. but they are also historical artifacts. very interesting. very weird. very, uh, full of cussing. so anyway, here’s

BIG DADDY: THE ORIGINAL PLANNING DOCUMENT

for those, like me, who have no motivation left in life to do anything and rely on summaries from others to acquire new knowledge, it all started with a single line.

prince of a fallen kingdom atsumu tries to kill hinata but falls in love with him instead

june, april something, 2020

with that in mind i tested the concept out with a few paragraphs of text, which you can find at the bottom of the Big Daddy document in the graveyard segment, accidentally sold my soul to the image of hinata with epaulettes, and then worked backwards, structuring an entire plot around two images:

a) hinata getting the shit beat out of him, with snark b) hinata and atsumu dancing in an empty ballroom under the stars

if you want a betrayal, you have to have something worth losing. if you want to fall in love with someone you don’t know, you have to meet them. if you have to meet them, there has to be a reason for that meeting, and so somewhere in between atsumu became a sword instructor and hinata the prince with daddy issues. june and i used this method of glancing anxiously over your shoulder to see what you’d missed to fill out the blanks in the story, after which i tacked up a bunch of post-its, typed out the plot, consulted june, typed out the plot again, and then broke the characters down into a bunch of questions, like ‘what do they want?’ and ‘what do they have?’ and ‘what are they afraid of?’

with the plot more or less ironed out, i decided it was time to start writing, and then i decided that i was actually too scared to start writing after all, so instead i set a couple of timers using classroomtimers.com (15-20 minutes long) and i sat down and i wrote about the world that hinata and atsumu inhabited.

each warm-up was 300-500 words long, and for the first few days, i’d write one before getting into writing the story proper. later these evolved into simply picking a scene from the story and launching straight into it, which became useful for opening those scenes later when i got to them organically.

then i got lazy! so i stopped. but these shitty little exercises were really useful for me because, unfettered by plot, convention, or any kind of tradition hovering over my shoulder, i was able to fuck around loosely enough to realize what i wanted this story to be. it was a very contrived kind of trial-and-error, an exploration of the characters, the story, but most importantly, the tone.

RESEARCH, PLANNING, AND VICTORIAN BOUGIE FASHION

this is a loose map of the castle and Important Locations within it, which i drew up at the start so i could keep track of where everything was and how i could get my characters from point A to point B. i wanted the story to have Some kind of internal logic, you know, even if that logic amounted to ‘a compass would function normally in this world whereas kageyama tobio would not’.

99% of my planning and organizing within those five weeks took place in this lovely dotted cat journal which my sister gave me for my birthday and i repurposed into a metaphorical Diary of Suffering while working on juno. i used it for everything from keeping track of narrative threads to clothing consistency checks, but the main purpose was this: each day at about 10 pm i’d crack open the cat book to a fresh page, stamp the date and the day of suffering at the top, and then write down a list of things i wanted to write, address, or fix today. then i’d sit at my laptop and write like a madman until about 7 in the morning. with breaks, of course, for sitting in the bathroom and staring at the wall and sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall, but mostly i was writing. and complaining about writing. you were there, you probably remember that.

anyway, here are some pages from the cat book.

aside from the fact that my handwriting is complete shit, you can see that i made zero effort for any of this to be presentable. it was mainly a way for me to keep track of my thoughts because i have the attention span of an ikea wardrobe and tend to forget things as soon as i think of them. the lack of structure also mirrored the way that i went about writing juno. while i did proceed, for the most part, in chronological order, i had a lot of weird and useless revelations during lunch, which by this point was happening around 2 am, and in the 5 minutes before the exhaustion finally hit and carried me down to hell. i changed A Lot. again, to understand exactly how much the story evolved from day one onwards, please consult the big daddy document.

in the meantime, here’s something else.

once june sent over hinata and atsumu’s character designs i sat down like the fucking fool i am and spent 2 hours poring over a document about victorian and other fashion movements of the past so i could assign a noun, adjective, and verb to each element of their outfits. i don’t know why i did this. i certainly could have not, but i attempted to make sense of their ‘fits from a logistical perspective and that went into the cat book too. everything went into the cat book. the cat book is a relic of the past now, stuffed with artifacts such as the birth of oikawa tooru, and also his demise.

MEDIUM DADDY: EDITING, PROOFREADING, AND CREEPY MURDER CATS

i finished writing on june 26th, 2020, approximately a month after i’d first started planning, somewhere around may 27th or 28th. at that point i had about 90,000 words’ worth of story and no sanity left whatsoever, so i took a day-long break to stare at a wall and listen to taylor swift’s enchanted on loop.

and then i made a new document, which you can look at using the link above, and i laid out everything i had to do. i’d discovered a fuck ton of plot inconsistencies and general errors while writing and lying awake in bed at 9 a.m., sleepless in seattle, and now that i was free of the demon egging me towards the first finish line, it was time to Deal with them. i speed-scrolled through the draft, which was 200+ pages compressed into one google doc, because i like to tempt god’s wrath, and fixed up all the plot issues over the course of a few days. this was the fun part.

the actual, hard editing was the extremely un-fun part. i reread the entire thing, paragraph by paragraph, line by damn line, from start to finish, paying especially close attention to awkward phrasing, incomplete dialogue, and moments which had fallen flat in my haste to get on to the next one. this was really fucking terrible. i spent more time lying facedown on the floor than actually editing anything, but after a long time (about a week), that, too was done.

SMALL DADDY: TITLES, SUMMARIES, AND GOOD FUCKING BYES

i spent a good eighty days thinking about the title, though hilariously enough we ended up with something that was a blend of our names. june + elmo = juno, which is, all things considered, pretty perfect, but the process of picking the title was Hell, and i Did Not Come Up With The Title until about 2 hours before posting. you can take a look at the haphazard clusterfuck of my title-selecting process in small daddy, which is linked above.

so the title was a last-minute choice. so was the summary. and the chapter divisions. and actually all the songs in the playlist for juno. the day we dropped juno onto planet earth like a newborn baby pitched out of the sky, i spent an hour hunched over my laptop, cutting my 213 page google doc into chapters based on nothing more than a Vibe. two days before that, i also attempted to voice-act the entirety of juno, an affair which ended at the 20,000 word mark with a sore throat and the kind of exhaustion one typically wants to sleep in a coffin for 23 years to get rid of. so in all honesty, i did very little editing, which is why there are definitely minor typos and/or mistakes hanging out somewhere on that chunky ao3 webpage. but whatever.

my attitude by july 5th (was it july 5th? or 4th? somewhere around there) was basically whatever. anything so i could get finish this damn thing, chuck it out of the window, and never see another google doc until the next century. i’ve been asked a few times how exactly i wrote at a rate of roughly 2000-3000 words per day for four weeks straight, and my answer has always been this: i died. what died, you ask? my soul. my spirit. my Will To Live. i’m a creature of fixations, and juno was my fixation for june. will i ever be able to do this again? would i recommend this experience to anyone? is god real? the answer to all of the above is probably no. juno was a fever dream, and so is my cat book. and so are all the lattes i had. and so was my 9 am to 4 pm sleep schedule.

but what we made is real. the research, oikawa tooru, the 4 am conversations in which i was like ‘how the fuck do i end this’ and june was like ‘jade proposal’ (the proposal was her idea. all rise for twitter user atsuhinas. she is the mastermind behind all of the Inch Resting moments in this story; i just flapped a korok leaf in her direction and made sure the air circulation was working properly) are real as fuck, and looking back, there’s a lot i’d change, but i’m lazy. and college is starting. and anyway, i did write 93,035 words in just under five weeks, four if you don’t count the week of Editing Hell, so i think that’s pretty cool.

thank you for reading this to the end, and for following us on our journey through the enigmatic taylor swift gundam fic which quite literally consumed my entire twitter account for the five weeks i spent working on it. retrospectively speaking i really was butt-obsessed so i am frankly incredibly impressed with everyone around me for putting up with a Husk of a Man for a month. thank you for doing that. thank you for indulging my vague tweeting, and our butterfly dns, and for reading 93 thousand words of gay fanfiction set in a high fantasy world with epaulettes and galettes. on behalf of june, once again, we are incredibly grateful for all your support.

if you have any questions about specific aspects of the writing process, or anything you’d like to know in general with reference to JUNO, feel free to drop me an ask through my tumblr inbox, or through my curiouscat over here. i’m aware i didn’t cover everything, but there’s frankly too much to put in a tumblr post without passing away somewhere around the 56% mark, so let me know what’s on your mind, and i’ll try to answer that to the best of my abilities. but anyway, before i go, here are some

TAKEAWAYS

one: don’t try to write 93,000 words in five weeks. seriously don’t fucking do it you will end up jittery and sleep-deprived and you will leave all your friends on read for a month. pace yourself. set realistic goals. you wrote 2k this week? that’s fantastic. you wrote 4k in a day? you absolute motherfucker. i hope you’re taking a long fucking break tomorrow. your story will not run away from you, but if you run too fast, you will get tired, and then you will pass away.

two: you don’t have to know everything about your story before you start writing. in fact if you have a single camera shot of two characters holding hands under a rose garden awning, i think that’s fucking wonderful. if you look at big daddy, you’ll realize that my initial plot draft, and all the ones following that, are not perfectly aligned with the final version of juno. i improvised over half of the scenes in this motherfucker, and to be completely honest, some of the improvised scenes were the best. fucking oikawa tooru was improvised out of nowhere. he only got written in way later, around chapter 8 or something, because i realized i needed a plot device and a source of information to keep the playing table from toppling over. i Sat Down one day and was like ‘okay, it’s time to write oikawa into the introduction. because he matters now. he didn’t matter last week but now he does, and soon he’s going to be the fulcrum of the entire story, because it’s like that with oikawa tooru’. it’s okay to change your mind halfway. it’s okay to go back and rewrite entire scenes or segments. it’s okay to highlight 4 pages of fresh, sentimental writing, and hit delete. writing is a fluid process, and you Will make discoveries as you progress through your story alongside your characters. be understanding of that iterative process. be kind to yourself.

three: You Are That Motherfucker. you, me, your dog, your dog’s friend, your dog’s enemy, all of us are that motherfucker. i never thought i’d be able to write anything longer than the great big map, which was a much simpler, linear story in which the other main character did not appear in the current timeline until like the eighth chapter. juno was different. juno was the motherfucker, and i was scared shitless of it, and to cope with that fear joked constantly while writing that it’d never see the light of day.

but it did. it was a rocky process, and i was awake for 48 hours after posting it because of the sheer adrenalin stuck in my skull, but i got through it. and i wouldn’t have been able to do it without june, who stepped in when i flopped over facedown on the floor and dragged me to my feet like the badass friend she is, and without everyone else in my life, who put up with me talking about The Thing that i couldn’t really talk about, but juno’s up there now. forever, or until the internet collapses and civilization goes extinct. and if the nineteen year old clown with the attention span of an ikea armchair and an a level certificate from hell wrote the 93,000 word long thing, so can you. i mean this completely unironically and with every ounce of genuine emotion i can summon from the cracked asshole of my heart.

writing is hard. writing is scary. writing is an investigation of the world around you and therefore, by extension, yourself, and that kind of honesty is freaky. it’s like going skinny-dipping next to the president’s mansion. who’s going to see you? what if they take a photo? what if you lose your spot at university?

but don’t think about that. our world is overrun with stories the way cereal bowls are full of cereal, but it’s those stories that keep us all sane in the disgusting day-to-day muck of reality, so think about your story. what’s haunting you today? what message do you want to leave printed in font size 666 comic sans across the southern hemisphere of the planet? what will you be tomorrow?

a writer. you’re going to be a motherfucking writer.

[yandere-sins]

Requesting Lemons - PSA

Hey guys! Another PSA from yours truly, request writer for four years, going strong onto my fifth year.

After all these years, I’ve learned a lot - about writing and myself alike. Personally, I like lemon-y stuff. I always held it in high regards since it’s demanding and challenging to find the right words and fun ways to describe it, so to me, it was always a special treat. What I am trying to say, I have my experience, and I am not against lemon as a concept. In my time writing, I found out what I am comfortable with and what not, found some pet peeves and things that make me tired of being a request writer. About such a thing, I want to talk today. 

It’s the requesting of explicit content. [Please note, due to Tumblr regulation, I’ll refer to it as ‘Lemon’]

After changing fandoms for the first time, it got clear really fast that my supportive first fandom was barely grazing the horniness and - bluntly said - lack of originality in many requests. I am not pointing fingers now, there are always requests that simply inspire you, no matter if they have a big story or idea behind them. It happens, it’s a spurt of imagination. So even the worst request sometimes can suddenly become the best, even if it is considered dull in comparison to others.

But what’s not okay is insisting on lemon elements in a request.

See, I don’t think that [Character] needs to fuck their significant other after, e.g., a breakdown/having dropped an apple at the market/lost someone significant to them/got hurt/and so many more.

You will think I am crazy right now, but no, those are all requests I have gotten in the past. Multiple times.

As a request writer, I feel like my requester thinks that writing lemon equals comfort. Which yes, in some cases, it does. Comfort fucking is a thing, and it’s not bad to write either. But it doesn’t replace a good hug, some advice, and a character really comforting his s/o. Personally, I think all it does is make a perfectly fine, valid request - that could have been fluffy, heartfelt, maybe funny, and comforting - unnecessarily horny.

Again, adding “Lemon please” to a request, does not make it better, is not helpful if the request has otherwise nothing to do with the lemon, and yes, many request writers don’t see a request, only an ask that will block their creativity.

So what do you do? Let me make it clear that requesting explicit content is NOT WRONG. If the writer is okay with it, nothing is stopping you, but remember one thing:

If you want to request a lemon, request a lemon. Don’t make a request and then, in the end, decide that your perfectly fine request should be lemon.

DO: “Can I request a lemon about [Character] and s/o celebrating their anniversary by doing some bed-hopping? Please, and thank you!” -> You went right to the point as to why they are fucking, gave the writer some plot to go off on. The writer now proceeds to write you an explicit story about how good their relationship feels even after a year of being together, how they still love each other so much, how [Character] can still make their s/o’s core tingle, etc.

DON’T: “Can I have a scenario of s/o breaking their leg. They are in pain, so how would [Character] help them, comfort them in this situation? Oh, lemon, please!!” -> This has nothing to do with the lemon. Why would this scenario be turning into a lemon, and how? The writer proceeds to panic, starring daggers into this request while they try to figure out what to do.

I hope this example made it more apparent as to why it sometimes is misplaced to ask for lemon. Not only that, but the request itself was good, the lemon addition is actually absolutely useless. It makes no sense, it has no core points, and simply, now the writer feels obligated to write it without the necessity or any idea how to do it.

I am almost done with this PSA, hoping it got a little bit more understandable why it is so hard to receive requests with the addition of “Lemon, please!”. But before I end it, let me explain what it also causes, aside from being unnecessary and taxing on writers.

There is no such thing as a constant income of requests. Request writers ALWAYS think twice about deleting requests, because they don’t know if they will have enough requests to keep the blog running on some point. They’d rather keep the requests, they don’t feel like they can do, in their ask box or drafts, until eventually, they can bring themselves to write them, or have to delete them with a heavy heart. No request writer WANTS to delete requests, that is not the idea, and we fear not having any because they are what a request blog is for. If we don’t get requests, it’s like a death sentence for the blog. But those requests that make us wonder how to write and what to do, are clogging not only the space they are in, but also our creativity as we want to please the requester by writing them, but just cannot find the inspiration to do it. And in the end of keeping them for months at some times, we delete them after all and are none requester wiser.

By writing a lot of lemon stuff, we are flooding fandoms. Fandoms that most of the time are 16+ and child-friendly. We can tag what we want, the possibility that someone who isn’t supposed to see them will click the ‘read more’ anyway and come into contact with it is not preventable. And we are not flooding them with the good stuff, we feed them with awkwardly written requests that didn’t have a reason to be lemon. We are telling these people that if they, e.g., break a leg, the only way to comfort them is fucking. This wouldn’t be a big thing if there were some posts, some explicit little stories. But because everyone is putting lemon on EVERYTHING, it’s EVERYWHERE. The possibility of seeing something explicit when searching for fluff is higher than finding actual fluff.

There is much more to say, but those are the most critical points that come to mind. There will always be exceptions, and I know not everyone agrees with me. But this is my experience, and more importantly, experiences from other request writers and even readers that came to me saying it isn’t really their thing to see how that interesting topic was turned into mindless fucking. Writing is not a porno, quite the opposite even. So repeat after me,

DON’T REQUEST LEMON IF YOUR REQUEST ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LEMON

Always remember that your request is okay as it is, and if it doesn’t need the fucking, then don’t ask for it. Alternatively, go to a blog specifically for lemon stuff, change up your request, request multiple things until you have everything you want. Support your writer and leave them some nice reviews on it, reblog their content to help spread awareness about their doings.

I am sorry it got so long, but it’s a complicated topic, and I tried to be as understandable as possible. As always, thank you for reading this PSA, please reblog and share, and feel free to add your own thoughts to it below!

[Feel free to read my other PSA, on how to better request, here]

[allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup]

Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing). 

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it. 

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago. 

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters. 

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing. 

She thought she’d never write their break up. 

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US. 

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment. 

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”  

-/- 

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed. 

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas. 

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

 -/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga. 

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind. 

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay. 

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find. 

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face. 

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again. 

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to. 

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her. 

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career. 

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy. 

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal. 

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?” 

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden. 

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.” 

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in  Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.” 

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name. 

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later. 

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today. 

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR. 

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week. 

“We had a meeting at 2:30.” 

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly. 

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand. 

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle. 

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days. 

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called. 

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off. 

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth? 

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months. 

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him. 

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid. 

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him. 

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut. 

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence. 

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating. 

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?” 

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?” 

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about. 

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment. 

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged. 

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye. 

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness. 

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break. 

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion. 

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received. 

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall. 

She is less. 

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before. 

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone. 

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.” 

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place. 

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do. 

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.” 

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth. 

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma.  He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is? 

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.” 

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.” 

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop. 

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention? 

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

 “Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.” 

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.”  Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly.  She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way. 

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay? 

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove. 

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly. 

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it. 

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs. 

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing. 

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured. 

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history. 

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.” 

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. 

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man. 

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.” 

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door? 

“What's the escape plan this time?”  

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart. 

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it? 

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.” 

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word. 

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word. 

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it. 

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return. 

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.” 

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. 

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous. 

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.” 

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness. 

“Killian...” 

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.” 

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls. 

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it. 

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil. 

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his. 

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand. 

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. 

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps. 

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips. 

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear. 

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before. 

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book. 

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’ 

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end. 

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold. 

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love. 

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other. 

[yikeswtfmate]

Strange Times || Ch. 2

previous part // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Now that Y/N Pearson is in town, Mickey wants to spend time with his little sister, or at least, you know, keep an eye on her. However, she has other plans and Ray is still not sure how he was convinced into helping her out.

Pairing:  Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; alcohol consumption; drug consumption; sexual themes

A/N: hello sweethearts, this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long while i’ve been going back and forth trying to decide whether i should keep posting this or not, but it’s too much fun to write and it seems there are some of you who seem to enjoy the story so here it is! 

The moment the car pulls in front of the entrance, Y/N bounds out of the door. She’s been quiet during the car ride, humming a vaguely familiar tune under her breath, while scribbling away in her planner. Raymond wondered what her plans might be in a country she’s only visited once more than a decade ago, but he took his phone out, deciding it’s better to tend to his own responsibilities, rather than try to taunt her again.

Now, he instructs David to bring the suitcases in the house, taking a deep breath before stepping in. He finds Y/N in Rosalind’s arms, as Mickey fusses around them, taking her coat and bag, and it shocks Ray into realising that for all of his boss’ might, he’s entirely wrapped around both of their fingers. Y/N just laughs at him, bumps their shoulders together and flicks his forehead, even though the man’s practically towering over her.

There’s a moment when he makes eye contact with Mickey, but Raymond’s had more than his share of Y/N by this point. Not to mention that he would rather avoid thinking about her bent over the back of the couch when her brother is standing right there. He raises his phone and ducks to the office with a nod from Mickey.

Four hours later, Raymond steps back down into the living room, having finished all his duties for the day. He hears Y/N’s laugh as he’s about to take the corner and into the living room, but the sound makes him stop in his tracks. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, shocked by the musical tones in it which plays in direct contrast to the snort that follows it. Shaking himself out of his trance, he enters the room where Mickey is laying in an armchair, whiskey tumbler in a hand, while Rosalind offers Y/N a glass of gin. He follows the curve of her bare thigh, splayed over the armrest of the recliner, now that her boots are thrown under the coffee table. He catches her gaze and the glint in her eye tells him that she’s seen him staring. There’s a barely noticeable wink, concealed as she takes a sip of her drink, but her other hand pulls the hem of her skirt an inch higher, seemingly unconsciously to the uninterested eye.

“Right, I’ll be heading out.” Raymond clears his throat, trying to shake the dangerous road his thoughts would like to take by turning his attention to his boss.

“Have a drink with us, Ray.” Mickey offers. “I wanted to talk to you about some things I need to be brought in from the apartment. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in London this week.”

“Wait a minute. We’re not staying in London? I thought the countryside was just for the weekend.” The expression on Y/N’s face turns from confused to dubious. Raymond’s starting to learn her tells and he wonders whether this might turn into a confrontation.

“The apartment’s being redecorated. We’ll be staying here for a couple of months.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not staying here in the middle of nowhere, I’m going to London.”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere, Y/N. Oxford is 10 minutes by car.” Mickey’s tone holds an edge of desperation, which might only mean he was fully prepared for this discussion and knew exactly how it would go.

“As I was saying, in the middle of nowhere.” She nods. “I’m going to stay in London and I’ll see you when you come to work.”

“I’m not paying for you to stay in a hotel for two months just because you’re throwing a tantrum and can’t sit still.” Mickey snaps harshly, slamming his tumbler on the glass table.

Rosalind lets out a long sigh, and with a shake of her head, she makes her way out of the living room, patting her husband on the shoulder just as a precaution. It seems she was well aware of how this conversation would unfold before it even started. As for Raymond, although he’s a man that has seen nearly it all in his line of work and doesn’t get uncomfortable easily, he’d rather have taken his leave a while ago. Instead, he just takes a sit on the couch facing his boss, close enough to Y/N that he can smell the faint cherry scent of her skin. There are arguments thrown around, a familial fight that he mostly tunes out, in favour of thinking about that whiskey he recently bought at an auction.

“Fine, then I’ll stay at Raymond’s.” Y/N’s voice sharply cuts through his thoughts, snapping him to attention. “I’m sure he won’t mind.” She adds, an inquiry that would sound more like a statement, save for the expectant eyebrow.

Mickey smacks his lips, and sighs heavily, but he does turn to look at Ray. There’s a silent exchange between the boss and his righthand man, and Y/N idly wonders whether her brother would give in just to get out of this fight; he never was one to argue, especially because, for all his protectiveness, he’d also give her anything she’d want. Would she take advantage of that? Of course, she would, if just to not be stuck in the countryside, she thinks. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he won’t know every single thing that she’ll be up to, and she’s more than sure she can persuade Ray to keep quiet.

Her gaze shifts from her brother to Raymond, whose jaw is set and expression unreadable. She swings her feet on the floor, making sure to inch her skirt even higher. She’s more than aware that if she’d stand up her butt would nearly come out of the leather, but she doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible tick in his eye or how his hand slowly tightens on his glass.

“I have enough rooms. She can stay if she wants to.”

“See? Problem sorted.” That Cheshire smile she’s perfected makes another appearance, more than unsettling in the long shadows of the old mansion.

Raymond has the sense he’s either made the biggest mistake of his life, or just stepped into something he won’t be able to handle. Either way, judging by Mickey’s sigh, he would’ve preferred to have her under his own roof. However, they both know he can trust Raymond with her safety, if not with dampening her chaos a little.

“Don’t worry, Mickey.” She says, but she’s still looking at Ray. “I’m going to be a very good girl.” And with that promise, Raymond knows he’s in deep shit.

*

The heavy smoke that hangs in the air should be indication enough of what Y/N has been up to for the past half an hour while he was preparing the guest room and taking a quick shower. Raymond goes to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water while carefully inspecting her stance. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes glazed, yet fixed onto an unknown thought swirling through her mind. Her fingers unconsciously tap on the joint above the ashtray, before her head falls slowly on the backrest.

Raymond takes a sit next to her, ready to snap her out of it if need be, but she seems to have a quiet one, lazy and fuzzy, enough to mellow her out her typical vibrancy. He hands her the water and she takes it with her free hand, while the other one brings the joint to her lips once more. A slow inhale and then the release of smoke in one swift circle. She watches it expand, lose its tight form until it evaporates above them. She passes him the spliff without a word in his direction, without as much as a cursory glance. While he inhales, she takes a long sip of water and wets her lips, tongue darting out, pink in the dim light of the lamp in the corner.

“That’s some good shit.” She declares with evident satisfaction.

“Didn’t think you’d find it that fast.”

“Ray, Mickey is my brother. Do you really think I don’t have a sixth sense when it comes to it?” Her head lolls towards him and she blinks lazily at him. “Plus, the tea box? Really? I know we Americans don’t usually drink tea, but come on. I thought you’d put more effort in hiding that shit from me. I know it only took me 10 minutes to come back down, but still, are your expectations that low when it comes to me?”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N. You’ve exceeded any expectation I might have had of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Her smile spreads, turning into a smirk, but there isn’t much energy into it and it rather looks like a lopsided grin. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Raymond takes another puff, eyes narrowing in concentration. He can’t say whether it’s the relaxing effect taking a hold of his body, or just that she’s finally quiet, dimmed down somehow, less intimidating in a large t-shirt that looks suspiciously familiar, but he allows himself to stop trying to predict her responses.

“For some reason I thought you’d be a messy teenager who’s too shy to even make eye contact.”

“Which I was ten years ago.” She points out and he nods once in acknowledgement.

“But I was faced with this grown woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’re still the spoiled prick I imagined though, just somehow differently.”

“You’re too sweet to me, babe.” Y/N smiles mockingly and with that, she closes her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about or do I have to stroke your ego a little bit more?” Ray places his feet on the coffee table, inspecting his slippers this way and that, realising that this would be the first time a woman would spend more than one night in his house. He finds that oddly enough he doesn’t mind.

“Already demanding, huh?” Y/N takes back the joint, which gives him the opportunity to notice just how smooth her fingers are between his. “I have some meetings to attend to, and I’d rather my brother wouldn’t know. I was aware of the situation with the apartment and knew I’d get my way in the end, but I have to admit, bunking with you is an entirely added bonus.”

“Meetings?” Ray waits for more details, but she just hums. “Do you even know anyone in London?”

“Oh, Raymond, sweetheart.” Her eyes open and her head tilts to one side again so he can fully see the pout on her face. His train of thought is derailed for a second by his imagination that just offers him a flash of teeth biting into soft lips, erasing the mockery and delving into deeper depths. “I see your brother has kept you completely in the dark if you really don’t know what I’ve been up to. Truth be told, I’m not sure how much he knows.” She adds as an afterthought.

“And are you going to illuminate me?”

“I’m here to find him a new buyer. You all fucked up pretty badly last time, so I came to sort your shit out.”

Raymond smiles, although he can’t say he’s not intrigued. Here she is, an American woman who’s just graduated college, barely having stepped foot in this country, thinking she’ll do a better job than Mickey’s entire network system, combined with the entire expertise of their business.

“Big words coming from a little girl.”

“You think I’m joking?” It sounds more like a statement, than a question, and she looks at him, a tone of genuine surprise. “I’ve already warned you not to underestimate me, Ray.”

“Fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt then. But if you’ll fuck some shit up somehow, I’ll send you packing myself.”

“Aw, babe, you’re super cute when you’re acting all tough and mean.” Her hand finds his knee again, and he can feel the warmth through his joggers as she trails her fingers over his thigh. “I’d love it if you could show me what all those girls have been telling me you can do.”

“What girls?” He flexes his leg involuntarily, as a grunt escapes his lips, suddenly unable to form words.

“Raymond, I’ll tell you this one more time.” She stands up, stretching her arms and legs slowly like a cat, allowing Ray to see that that is indeed one of his t-shirts that she must’ve stolen when he let her wander through the house. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought that she was in his bedroom. “Don’t underestimate me. I know more than you think.”

And with that she scrunches his face in one of her hands and kisses him with a loud smack. Underneath the taste of weed, he can still smell the whiskey she’d nicked earlier, but most importantly one small part of his brain warns him that if he moves one inch there’ll be no coming back. So he clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself, trying with all his might not to throw his arms around her and pin her underneath him in an instant. 

One of his legs is trapped between hers, but to keep his hand from gripping the back of her bare thigh would be more likely a titan’s strength, than a mere mortal’s like him. His fingers trace the muscles under the silky skin and she pushes her tongue out, demanding entrance. He pulls his head back, hand tightening on her leg but she’s too distracted to notice the pressure.

“Y/N, no.”

“Buzzkill.” She rolls her eyes, but straightens up again, grabbing the water bottle on the way out of the living room. “You’ll come around eventually.” She yells over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs to her bedroom.

“I have a feeling you’re right.” He mutters and starts rolling another joint.

[kaleidodreams]

2020 Fanfic In Review

Idea taken from @floraone! (FYI, if you saw this yesterday, I’ve deleted the original and reposted it again now that the glitches that were plaguing my Tumblr the past couple of days have been fixed.)

1. List of fics completed this year:

Sailor Moon

Selenophilia Series Taste Test Adventures In Babysitting Better Than A Unicorn Dahlias and Coffee Real Parents Awaken Shopping Trip Usagi, Mamoru, and the Three Mattresses Bad Day Blues Meet The Grandpa The Return of Nurse Minako

A New Future

Do No Cry For Me

Distraction

Stoplight

Investigation: Mystery Date

Kaleido Star

Friends With Benefits

Heart to Heart

Yuri!!! On Ice

What Happens In Vegas

A Morning Proposal

Reunited

Taking The Plunge

Perfect Idol

I’ve Been Thinking About You

Triple The Love

Confusion

The Bonds We Choose (WIP)

And a few more fics for the upcoming YOI Rare Pair Week, but since those won’t be posted until next month, I’m not going to list them.

2. Number of words written: I don’t really keep track. Posted? Around 130,000 or so, I think, but that doesn’t count unposted stories (like the Rare Pair fics I mentioned) and chapters. Plus, some stuff I posted this year was actually written earlier, so… 150,000 to 200,000 seems like a good estimate.

3. Your most popular fic: It’s always hard for me to judge popularity because there’s different ways you could look at it, but I’d say “Distraction” was probably the most popular at FF.net and “A Morning Proposal” at AO3.

4. Your personal fav: Probably my WIP, “The Bonds We Choose”, but of the completed stories… I actually really love “A Morning Proposal” even though it’s just a short, fluffy ficlet. I’m also quite proud of my two Sailor Moon Smutember fics, “Distraction” and “Stoplight”

5. Your fav scene: This is a tough choice… Probably the scene in “The Bonds We Choose” where Otabek takes Yuri to an open house and surprises him by asking Yuri to move in with him and Mila. I’m a bit of an HGTV addict, so it was really fun to write Yuri making snarky comments about the interior design.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you: “Do Not Cry For Me”, without a doubt. Most ironic title ever, because there was a period of, like, three or four days back in August when I’d start crying if I even THOUGHT about that fic because I hated the first chapter so much. (And that is NOT a normal reaction for me, BTW. I’ve never cried in frustration over a fic before that I can remember.) Just ask everyone on the SS Bang Discord. I was a mess. It was so bad that I got to the point where I wanted to drop the fic altogether and start a new one (I came up with “Stoplight” as a backup story) even though 1) my artist had already drawn a rough draft of the artwork and 2) there was only a couple of months left until posting. With the help of my beta and a couple of others, I managed to get it to the point where I wasn’t exactly thrilled with it, but I at least thought it was okay. Then a couple of days after I finished posting it, I had another sobfest over it because only one person left a review over at FF.net (and it wasn’t really a review; just a prediction of what they thought was going to happen). Which, in hindsight was pretty silly because I know FF.net was having problems the week I posted, and I actually received the most comments I’ve ever gotten over at AO3 (thanks mostly to @teamvanessacloud and @vchanny-og being nice enough to leave a comment on all seven chapters *hugs*) and a decent amount of kudos, but something about that one single FF.net review really got to me and seemed to confirm my fears that it was a terrible fic. I don’t know… That fic messed with my head so much, y’all. (Probably didn’t help that it’s probably one of the most depressing things I’ve ever written. You guys know I love angst, but maybe that was TOO much angst.)

7. A line of writing you’re proud of: I have two picks for this, and both are actually from my Smutember fics.

First one from “Distraction” - After a weeks-long drought, they indulged in each other like weary travelers drinking from an oasis, almost frantic as they writhed together on the bed.

And the other is a piece of dialogue from “Stoplight” - “Your vow of chastity during our previous lives didn’t stop me from loving you, Rei,” he reminded her. “A lack of sex sure as hell isn’t going to stop me from loving you in this life, either.”

8. A comment that touched you: I’m not sure if “touched” is the right word, but I was really happy that a lot of people praised “Distraction” for its realism even though I actually don’t have any personal experience with sex. I guess I did all right, though! *laughs*

9. Something that inspired your writing: I can’t really think of anything in particular, honestly. Oh, wait, “Dahlias and Coffee” was kind of inspired by a piece of Taiki/Setsuna artwork! Which, of course, I can’t find anymore to link to, although I know I reblogged it a while back. I know the artist’s name was Alex Asakura, though. (EDIT: Now that I’m able to search my Tumblr again, I found it. This is the picture.)

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc): Despite all the tears, I guess I am kinda proud of myself of rewriting it to the point that I no longer hated the first chapter of “Do Not Cry For Me”, and I actually do think the ice-skating battle is the best action scene I’ve ever written. Also, finishing “Friends With Benefits” – one of the reasons I decided to return to fic-writing after a long hiatus was the desire to finish that story, so I’m glad I did, even if the fandom is mostly dead!

11. Do you have any writing goals for next year?: I’d like to finish “The Bonds We Choose”. Other than that, maybe get back to one of my Sailor Moon WIPs. Oh, and maybe learn to stop hating writing kissing scenes so much? *laughs*

[kpopfanfictrash]

Wasteland, Baby!

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader

Word Count: 3,098

Warnings: post-apocalyptic, depression, themes of death

Summary: A songfic, inspired by the song of the same title by Hozier (I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months and finally decided to post)

The end of the world was not as terrible as everyone thought it would be.

Or – that is what you have told yourself since, citing the mantra to keep the demons at bay. On the days when it does not work, when you cannot convince yourself of this fact, it is hard – near-impossible – to get out of bed.

Today is a good day. Today, the end of the world is not so terrible.

Yesterday was a bad day.

Yesterday, Yoongi tried for twenty-four minutes to coax you from under the sheets. Eventually, he gave up and left to chop more wood for the fire. Six minutes into his absence, you woke in a sweat-soaked terror, hands scrambling through blankets to seek out his warmth. Visions flashed through your mind, one after the other, like the worst kind of picture show.

Ashen faces, choked breathing, bloody splotches. Deadened gaze.

In the end, the world did not end with bloodlust and rage – but with folly.

It was folly that humans chose to live so close to one another, packed into homes stacked on top of the other. It was humans who were so dependent on technology that they could not survive once it disappeared. Once there were not enough people to run the power plants and take care of the phone grids.

Truly, Yoongi is the only reason you are alive. On most days, you can convince yourself this is a good thing. When the disease first emerged, Yoongi was the one monitoring it all from his phone. In those days, he came home from the lab later than usual, brow permanently furrowed and sandwich crumbs on his sweater.

Those were the days when you were his anchor, when you were the one who coaxed him in and out of bed. Yoongi was your workaholic pathologist boyfriend and you were his rock. Now, the situation is reversed and you find this to be oddly appropriate. Everything should be flipped at the end of the world.

It was when the airports began closing Yoongi demanded you leave.

“Today,” he said, slamming the apartment door as he entered.

You looked up from your workstation, surprised by his appearance. Architecture papers were spread out before you, half-finished buildings drawn in blue and white lines. Typically, Yoongi did not get home until after dinner on weekdays. You were used to the hours spent alone, sketching at your table.

“Today… what?”  

Yoongi’s eyes were red-rimmed; evidence of his many late nights. Circling your table, he came to a stop at the wardrobe. “My place outside the city,” Yoongi said, avoiding the question. “We can go there. Wait it out.”

“Wait what out?”

He paused before the drawer, one mustard-colored sock dangling over his hand. Swallowing, Yoongi seemed to wrestle with something. “Maybe nothing,” he said quietly. “Or… maybe something.”

You stared at him for a moment, debating how to respond. Granted, you thought Yoongi had gone insane. Everyone was saying this would blow over, like all the other scares. Avian Flu, Swine Flu and a million other Flus. Yoongi seemed serious though, as though he had not slept in weeks and likely, that was so. Everyone in Yoongi’s lab had been working overtime to search for a cure. Yoongi was one of the first among them to recognize the truth.

As an outsider, you were biased by precedent. As a human, you had always survived. This is another folly of humans – they think themselves invincible. They assume because they have survived thus far, they will continue to do so.

Most of the world’s population assumed this. Then again, most of the world’s population is now dead.

Something in Yoongi’s eyes convinced you. “Okay,” you said, standing up from your stool. It was better to humor him, at least. “What do I do?”

Forty minutes and one hastily packed trunk later, you two sped off down the highway. Few cars were on the road that day – in the early time of the sickness, most people stayed in. They quarantined themselves, only venturing out when absolutely necessary. It was merely a flu at that point – the world did not yet understand.

It was from Yoongi’s cabin you watched the world fall apart. The footage was horrifying – riots, looting when the hospitals became dead zones, and then the airports, and then everywhere. The TV stayed on until the cabin ran out of power, until the people were gone and there was nothing left to be said. You watched as, one by one, newscasters silently replaced one another. No one explained why, but you both knew the truth.

The world’s population was decimated in a matter of days. You and Yoongi watched it all happen, huddled on your couch and immobile with shock.

You two were lucky, you suppose. Yoongi kept his cabin stocked for his work rampages; the times he got a research hunch and would seclude himself for weeks in his reading. The cabin held everything one needed for the end of the world – canned goods, water purifiers, emergency candles and matches. The rations held out remarkably well while you determined a new way to survive.

Now, it has been three months since the lights went out.

For weeks you slept on edge, waking at the slightest brush of wind on the window. Living alone was a new kind of terror. Living in the city, there were dangers, but technology was always present to keep you protected. It warned you of intruders, kept the doors shut and updated you on your surroundings. No longer.

One month after the end, you ventured out in Yoongi’s car. Yoongi decided that, based on his research, most of the virus would be dead by that time. It needed living hosts to survive. Still, it was a risk and he would not let you leave the confines of the vehicle.

The closest town to the cabin was once called Roshone – a small, miniscule lake village of maybe two thousand. You say once because now, just two people remain. 

You and Yoongi.

The drive through the streets was silent, chillingly so. Unplowed snow crunched under your tires. Yoongi peered out from the windshield, searching for life but finding nothing to speak of. No footprints in the snow, no flashes of movement from the corner of your eyes.

Many doors were marked with red x’s of paint – a makeshift Passover you quickly averted your gaze from. After about an hour, you returned to the cabin. This was the first of your dark days. For three days following, you did not rouse from your bed.

That was when you believed the world had truly ended; you two were merely ghosts, biding your time until you joined all the rest.

The silence was the worst part.

There were many days you forgot to speak, going from sunup to sundown with nary a word. Philosophy is what separates humanity from animals and so, when humanity is dead, what separates you then? What makes you different from the rest of the mammals when there is no one to talk to? Nothing. And so, you continued your motions of living – but only enough to survive. A gross pantomime of what you were before.

Yoongi clung to his routines. 

He woke early each morning, as he did in the city. As long as there were beans, he made coffee over a fire. When the beans ran out, Yoongi heated plain water for tea. When his computer died, he dug out books from his study and poured over those. What he was searching for, you did not ask. It all seemed futile to you.

Yoongi had never been a very positive person and so, in many ways, he was better equipped for the end. Perhaps this is why he adapted better than you. He had a stoic realness about him which suited the end times.

When you needed food, Yoongi learned how to shoot. He researched how to garden and found books to prepare for the springtime. The sight nearly made you laugh, watching him read about plants. Yoongi had always made fun of Namjoon and his bonsai trees. Remembering, you winced, heart tightening at the memory. Namjoon was a cold dose of realism you could not ignore.

All of your neighbors stayed when you two fled from the city. You do not know if they made it out. Somehow, you doubt it.

You often find yourself wondering which was be worse – the disease, or its aftermath. Anything must be better than this. Anything but this silence, this sadness, this agonizing nothingness which tears you apart and –

Banging open the door, Yoongi walks in.

His entrance reminds you of that day so long ago when he convinced you to flee. Remembering, you stare blankly at him from the bed. Yoongi is framed by the door; silvery light filters past and for a moment, he seems like some kind of savior.

Then, he is over the threshold and the door is pulled shut. Dropping a bag to the ground, he shakes dust from his shoulders. The light disappears and he is no longer a savior, merely Yoongi.

Stubborn, brave, wonderfully human Yoongi.

“I found more candles,” he says, removing his jacket. The cabin is small – only three rooms, the front of which contains a bed, kitchen and sofa. Crossing to the bed, he settles beside you. Yoongi’s hand covers yours, his eyes dark and sad. “How are you today?”

Glancing past him, you stare at the bag. “You found candles? Where?”

Yoongi’s lips tighten in a way which lets you know you will not like the answer. “I went into town again.”

Swiftly, your gaze moves to his. “Yoongi! That could be dangerous!”

He exhales, rubbing his thumb against yours. “There’s no one there, babe.”

“… No one?”

“No.”

Quietly, you let this statement sink in. A month prior, his words would have crippled you. Now, it simply seems… usual. This fact should give you alarm. It should not be normal for you to think of an entire town dead and not feel some remorse. It should spark sadness, at least – or maybe some sort of horror, outrage, or despair.

Lowering his head, Yoongi brushes his lips to your hand. “Y/N,” he says, against your skin.

“Yes?” 

He slowly looks up. “I feel numb.”

Freezing, you take in his expression. Yoongi stares back at you, helpless and you realize with shock he was counting on this. He was counting on there being someone left but finally, the evidence is too great and he is giving up. Yoongi, your steadfast in this ocean of madness – the one who coaxes you out of bed, who convinces you to make a plan – has given in.

He truly thought you were not alone.

And now, he does.

You can see it in his gaze. There is a haunted fear which can be explained in no other way. It is one thing to treat this as a vacation, a temporary respite before getting back to your life – it is another thing to accept this is reality.

Hesitantly, you push yourself into a seated position. Carding your hands through his hair, you examine his face. Yoongi’s locks are long, shaggy across the front where you cut them poorly with scissors.

“Numb?” 

Gently, he closes his eyes. “Maybe you were right.” Lowering himself on his side, Yoongi scoots back to make room. “Maybe there isn’t a point anymore. Maybe we should just… sleep. I don’t know.”

His arm slips over your waist, pulling you into him. His breathing softens, warm on your throat and normally, you would sleep, too – except Yoongi is not supposed to be numb. He is not supposed to be the pointless one, the aimless one. The entire time you have known him, Min Yoongi has been driven by something. Without that…

The world has not yet ended, you realize.

It ends when you both think it has.

His snores rattle your body, letting you know he is sleeping. Once you are certain, you slip from his arms and lower both feet on the floor. The floorboards are cold, making you shiver. Pulling on his jacket, you deeply inhale. It smells like Yoongi, but not city Yoongi.

City Yoongi always wore the same jeans, used the same laundry detergent and slept in the same bed. He smelled of chemicals from the lab, shampoo from CVS and some fancy cologne. This Yoongi smells like woodsmoke; metal and iron and the bitter taste of wind.

It is not a bad smell. Glancing over your shoulder, you find him asleep, like a rock. Yoongi does not move, one arm dangled over the mattress to drag on the floor. Without pausing to think, you grab the keys of his car and walk into the cold.

Seated behind the wheel of Yoongi’s black Ford Taurus, you stifle a shiver. There is a knife on the floor of the passenger’s side. You glance at this quickly before looking away. Hopefully you will not need to use it. As you pull from the driveway, you follow Yoongi’s earlier tracks into town. It has been a long time since you drove. Even longer, since you went out alone.

The engine seems loud – near-deafening, compared to the silence of Main Street. Your gaze flicks uneasily over each storefront; despite Yoongi’s insistence that they are deserted, it is hard not to imagine the worst.

Pulling into a parking space – even at the end of the world, some habits die hard – you turn off the engine and sit for a moment. Your hands are shaking, clutching the wheel and you force yourself to let go.

Outside, the winter air is crisp on your skin. Despite the lack of humanity, the world has not yet noticed the void. Or, if it has, it does not care. The snow crunches beneath your feet as you cross the street, peering into a shop to pause on its curb. 

The windows are dusty, untouched for months and the tables inside have not fared much better.

At last, you inhale and push open the door. It is unlocked, as though the former owner left in a rush. You winkle your nose at the staleness of air. Flies buzz past when the door swings shut behind you. Shadows stretch before you, elongating the worst parts of your imagination. Beneath the sweet smell of chocolate and sugar is a damp, rancid stench you know all too well.

You shiver. The virus should be dead but always, there is this fear. What if?

Ignoring this – and the back room from whence the smell stems – you cross the room and duck behind the register. Bags, boxes and canisters line the shelves at eye-level. Grasping the first one you see, you grit your teeth together and bolt towards the door.

Outside, seated in the driver’s seat, you finally exhale. Lowering your head to the steering wheel, you sit still for a second. Vision blurring, you stare at the vinyl wheel of the car. So many people are gone. The sheer magnitude always weighs on you, wondering why you survived when so many did not.

You glance sideways. The bag you took lies on the floor, beside the knife. For some reason, the image strikes you as funny. Your upper lip twitches.

Taking that bag makes you a thief. You have never stolen something before.

Of course, in this hellish landscape where the word means nothing, you find yourself a criminal. 

A laugh escapes, too loud in the silence. Clasping trembling fingers over your mouth, you attempt to shove it back in, only to realize – why? No one is here. There is no one around to be quiet for and so, you laugh. 

Again. 

And again, until tears mix with the madness and slide down your cheeks.

Did Yoongi say he felt numb? Did you ever feel numb? Right now, you are the opposite. You are every emotion ever felt in the universe; a black hole drawing everything in and spitting out nothing. You are bursting, so full of anger you think you might break. 

Full of sadness, as well. And hope.

It is a long time before you can see clearly enough to turn on the engine. Stubbornly, the car catches beneath you and in the fading rays of twilight, you drive back to the cabin. As you go, you keep wiping tears with one hand. It is lucky that no one else is on the road, since you are certainly a hazard to the silence’s safety.

As the cabin comes into view, you recognize something is wrong.

The front door is ajar, which is not how you left it. Footsteps are stamped in the snow – fresh ones, frantic ones which are not your own. Throwing the car into park, you stare at the doorway. Reaching out, you grab both bag and knife from the seat. The weapon seems foolish to hold, since you are not a killer, but you do so anyways.

Yoongi barrels around the side of the house.

He comes to a stop at the door, chest heaving. His eyes are wide, gun trained on your head. 

Yoongi pauses. 

“I,” he exhales, squinting into the cold. “…Y/N?”

“It’s me.” Regaining motion, you push open the door. Hurriedly, you drop the knife to the ground. “Yoongi, it’s me.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats your name, slightly lost. “What are you doing?”

Unsure what to say, you walk towards him. Once he is there, your feet falter. “Here,” you say, thrusting the small bag upon him. “I – I went and got you coffee.”

Yoongi does not move. He stares at the package, not understanding. Wind ruffles his hair, exposing pale skin and hesitantly, Yoongi reaches out a hand. “Coffee?” he murmurs. Turning the bag over in his palm, he looks up. “Why?”

Staring at him, you feel oddly exposed. You thought you knew Yoongi, but here in this dead world, everything is new.

“Because,” you whisper, feeling somewhat foolish. “You like coffee. You need it… for, you know.”

To not be numb anymore.

Yoongi does not move for a moment. He stands there, bag of beans in one hand and looks wonderingly at you. Then, he drops the bag to the snow and crushes you hard to his chest.

Yoongi buries his face in your neck, exhaling brokenly. For the second time in the same hour, your vision blurs. Hugging him tightly, you burrow your face in his sweater. His large hand strokes your hair, winding in strands and keeping you firm in his arms.

Yoongi chuckles when he feels you wipe your nose on his front. “You know I’m still here?” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “Right?”

You nod, pulling back to see him. Tears cling to your lashes, and you blink them away. For the first time in months, you feel the breeze on your skin. It does not make you feel numb, but alive. The rustle of the wild is all around you.

The world is not dead – merely holding its breath.

Yoongi stares back.

“I know.” Lifting on tip toe, you brush a kiss to his lips. “I know. I’m here too, okay?”

Swallowing a smile, Yoongi nods. “I know.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

10 things finishing my 10th book taught me

Hey People of Earth!

(I cannot believe I typed the title of this post!)

Today, I’m going to be sharing 10 things finishing my 10th book taught me, which means--as of 2:30 this morning, I have finished writing my tenth novel, aka MOTH WORK. I’ve written posts like this for my 7th, 8th, and 9th novels as well!

Enjoy this note no one asked me to write but that I wrote because I was sad: 

I introduced this project on this blog back in June, but actually started it in the notes app of my iPhone (iconic) sometime in January of 2019. At this time, my mental health was *lackin* as I was stressed and in my final months of high school. I needed something to cheer me up, and so Moth Work became a place where I could dump my “bad writing” and also have fun. For more context, you can read more about Moth Work in my various writing updates HERE. 

I didn’t intend for this project to become a novel, but thought I’d write it as a longer “for fun” story (prospective word count was 5k words). I chipped away at it for a few months, but didn’t really start picking it up as a serious project until around May/June. It was only once summer vacation hit that I, under the advice of my therapist to have a “reach goal” for the summer, decided to say fuck it!! I shall write this as a novel (prospective word count now 50k words). This novel has seen me graduate high school + almost finish my first year of university, and I’m so excited to share all the wonderful things I learned while writing it!

1. It is totally okay to take your “guilty pleasures” seriously. 

I was in a mega dilemma writing this book. I’d wrapped up writing my ninth novel just after starting this project, and felt a need to write something that was more “serious”. Though I’m an advocate for writing what you want, when you want, even I struggled not to feel like I was wasting my time writing a project that didn’t have very much literary/craft merit (in my eyes, this changed eventually). 

I am here to tell you--do NOT let anyone, including yourself, shame you out of writing what you like. Allow yourself to let loose and write “bad” things, and remember you don’t have to feel guilty/ashamed for writing stuff that seems “juvenile” or “bad”.

2. Processes change--embrace this.

I took about 4000 different approaches writing this book, and though I really wanted to stick to one (outlining, pantsing), eventually, I let my process be what it wanted to be. For example, I am a pantser and began this novel pantsing. Very quickly, I realized I needed an outline because I could not keep track of events (this book begins very plot-oriented). But, pre-determining events that would happen eventually stopped working as I began feeling constrained, and so I settled for outlining as I went so I could keep track of plot points. 

I outlined 10 of the 15 chapters like this before I sort of... stopped doing this (though I will go back and fill it in just for future reference)! I went back to full-blown pantsing in the last four or so chapters, as what I’d planned would NOT pan out--and I think it’s so important to let your process be what it wants to be. Sometimes this book needed some planning--sometimes it really didn’t. This flexibility has really allowed me to be in touch with my projects more, and really listen to them/understand what it is they need. 

3. Sometimes plans change. Don’t be afraid to follow your gut.

I did not plan for Moth Work to be a novel. But as the project developed, so did its final form. My gut was telling me what I needed to do (continue writing), and another example of this is when I sporadically made this a dual point of view book! I’ve never written a full-length dual POV manuscript, and haven’t written dual POV since I was 12, but I didn’t let that stop me from doing what I knew in my gut, was what the book needed. 

I want to emphasize here--sometimes the vision you imagine changes. Allow this change to happen if you feel it’s right, even if it’s scary. I feel I’ve grown a lot as a writer by just allowing this of myself! It’s easy to beat yourself up for not following your plan, and I did this a lot. Understanding that sometimes plans turn into other plans turn into other plans etc, is the most freeing thing you can do for your writing!

4. Write what makes you happy!

This project began as a means to increase my serotonin lmaooo and I think sometimes as writers, we forget that yes, art is hard, but writing what you like can make that difficulty just a little more tolerable. This book started toiling toward disaster mode for a few chapters in the middle, and I really was not happy writing it. You can feel the difference in the chapters when I felt comfortable writing, versus when I struggled because I felt I “had to”. And so I took a step back and re-evaluated. Since this was not working/not making me happy, what would? This question solved my problems (not easily, but lead me on the right path). The artist! does not! have to! suffer! 

Sometimes problems occur, and critically thinking through them is vital. I’m not saying just to do whatever every time something doesn't work because this isn’t a shortcut. However, my point is not to be afraid to change things up and write what will make you happier and help you finish the book if you feel that’s what you need. I wanted to write a cheesy romance about two boys who both need to chill, and so though I could’ve written something else, I wrote this because it genuinely made me happier! And I love that about this book!

5. Things can take longer than you expect. You’re not a bad writer because of this.

Y’ALL. I wanted to write 50k words of this book over one summer. One month! One! Month! Lots of folks can do this, but I did not! In fact, I hit 50k this month, which is half a year after I projected. 

I think a lot of us constitute speed to being a good writer, and while speed and being a good writer can coexist, speed is not necessarily a determining factor in whether you can write or not! This book took me just over a year from when I started it (nine months from when I took it on as a full-time project), and while sure, I could’ve written it faster, I let it develop as it needed, and wrote it when I felt I could. I am not a professional writer with deadlines (that’s different)! While you gotta put in the time to improve, I think you also gotta look out for yourself! Use your gut, and take your time if that’s what you need!

6. Craft and play can coexist.

This took me so long to grasp, and I still struggle with this today! Craft and play can coexist. Say it with me y’all: craft and play can coexist!!

My manifesto for Moth Work initially was to have it be my dumping ground for shitty writing. While this took the pressure off initially, I then felt like I was regressing in my craft (which was untrue, I just didn’t realize it at the time). So, I decided to begin taking the craft aspect of this book very seriously, trying to write polished, delicious prose (every! time!) and the fact of the matter is that often, this did not happen. 

I beat myself up over this! I was like: Rachel, 16-year-old you was pumping out better prose than this, what’s up? And I put so much pressure on myself to perfect the writing, even though this was only ever meant to be a “for funsies” project. Eventually, I came to understand that, okay, I really do want this to be a for funsies project, but I also want to enjoy re-reading it and not criticizing every aspect of it. I then began incorporating a few passes of line edits after drafting a chapter, until eventually, I stopped circling back to chapters to line-edit them altogether. You don’t have to be perfect on the first draft!

You also don’t have to sacrifice craft to have fun, just as the opposite is true. This book taught me a lot about finding this balance, something I’ve lacked in my writing process for years!

7. Your writing styles can differ from book-to book!

I couldn’t understand why my prose in this book felt “thin” (aka awful in my eyes), why the only thing I felt capable of describing was literally everything shining in some sort of way (glinting, glimmering, glowing lool) or overzealous descriptions of the moon. It was only about a month ago that I realized, after making a breakthrough with my litfic novel Houses With Teeth, that Moth Work was not sucking the life out of my prose--it was just a different book with a different style of writing.

And this makes sense! I was writing with two different characters, in two different perspectives, in a completely different POV than I’m used to writing in the long-form (third-present). Of course things were going to be different! I felt a bit silly realizing this, lol, because it felt so obvious, but I struggled with this for a long time (you can even see bits of this struggle in my video Problems I’m having with writing + solutions). 

I thought I had regressed to being a bad writer because of this book, when in reality, the fault was on my inability to stop comparing a very different book to my very different past works. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re working against yourself! Acknowledging this, and then letting it go was the best thing I did for this book and it allowed me to draft it much faster toward the end!

8. Writing is NOT linear.

I spoke about this in my Problems video, and I honestly was nervous to see how this hot take would be received. However, I was surprised to see that some folks thought this hot take was actually not a bad one, so I’m re-iterating it here!

I think, because we writers are often always practicing writing, we assume everything we write will be better than the last. Honestly, I feel like at least for me, this was my goal--to always be working linearly in terms of progress. It wasn’t until this book that I really came to realize that this is just not how writing works. The easiest way for me to compare this, also as a visual artist, is to say that sure, practice does make perfect, but I have sketches from last week that are worse than sketches I drew two years ago. Why is it that we expect writing to always be linearly better from one project to the next? My answer is that this is just not how writing works. I wrote some of my favourite paragraphs years ago, and may be embarrassed of a paragraph I write tomorrow. 

I got caught up in this idealism of “I must be writing better each time I write” because I thought this was the most logical progression of my writing craft, but realizing that actually!! progress jumps around, was so important for me. Some days I’m better at writing description, some days I write dialogue worse than I did when I was fourteen! It’s okay not to always be uphill. 

Y’all, if I step down a wrung on a ladder and then step up four the very next day, that’s how it’s going to be! Practice intrinsically will make you grow as a writer, but it doesn't mean everything you write has to be better than what you wrote before (though this can be the case, which is awesome). I feel like I don’t see this spoken about enough, so I do want to know if this is relevant to any of you or if this point is bologna!!!

9. The story wants what it wants.

This is heavily in line with some previous points, but is something that was driven home for me while writing this novel. If I can give one piece of advice, it would be to let the story be what it wants to be. If my story wants to be a YA fantasy trilogy, but I’m trying to force it to be a standalone pretentious character-driven coming-of-age saga (calling myself out), my writing may suffer! Of course, some writers can take control over their story and execute their initial vision perfectly! I am not! one of those! people!

I’m a firm believer that sometimes the story wants what it wants, and it’s often your best bet to follow this path. Write intuitively--if you know something feels wrong, or contrarily, feels right, follow that path. 

I did not know how to end this book. I’d had an ending planned for a few months, though it eventually fell apart in the last few weeks. I didn’t know what I would do instead, but last night when I was drafting the last two chapters of the book, I felt in my gut that I was heading to the end. I wanted to stop writing for the night--I almost did, but instead, I kept at it because I knew I was on a roll toward the finish line, and I felt compelled to follow my instinct. This is how I landed at the end I wrote in, and it was a completely organic process.

Planning out your story is a great thing to do, and I’m not here to start a debate about whether plotting/pantsing is better because they’re both amazing!! But for me, it’s important to let the story breathe, and let it eventually grow into the shoes it chooses for itself. Taking a step back so I could stop trying to mould this story into a place it didn't want to be is probably the best thing I could’ve done for it because I finished the book. Any process is a good process if it gets you to the end healthily, and for me, allowing the story to be what it wanted to be and allowing it to take the lead helped me get there.

10. It’s okay to love your story.

I’m going to end this post on another hot take because it is probably what I primarily felt early this morning as I typed up the last paragraph of this book. I’m not going to lie--I cried finishing this book lol. I ached finishing this book. It *hurt* to finish this book. I didn’t want to finish this book. What I wanted to do was shut my computer, and pretend the end was not coming, and come back four months from now to finish it, maybe. I wanted to hang onto my story because it’s my story and I love it!

Y’all, this book is cringey. It’s melodramatic, juvenile in some places, comically serious in others. But it’s mine, and I love it. Sometimes I’m ashamed of the writing in this book--sometimes I think I’m getting worse. But it’s my story, and I love! it! 

I think so many of us want to please other people! Or maybe that’s just me lol!! oh boy!! There were so many times I wanted to give up on this project because I thought others would find it cringey in places I too, thought were cringey, but simultaneously loved.

I’ve written for other people a lot in the past, and sometimes those ‘other people’ are just me--many critical versions of me. Don’t forget about how much you love a story (for its quirks maybe, its clichés, its “bad writing”) before you finish it. A first draft only comes once and finishing a first draft is so wonderful, and even more so when you love that story. We got enough hate y’all, lets give our stories some love. 

So that’s it for this post! I still have five chapters to write writing updates for, so the party ain’t over til it’s over!!!

For my obligatory Oscar’s speech! A special thanks to @sarahkelsiwrites​​ for reading about these trash people for five years, and for enthusiastically contributing to their trash decisions (#do it for the tea)! And for reassuring me that the prose in this book is actually not as bad as I believe because I would never have finished this book without that pep talk lol. To @imdisappointed​​ for helping me crack some of the toughest plot problems!! You talk me out of problems and it’s magic! And to my MOM @shaelinwrites​​ (for being my mom) and also for all the kind/insightful things you say! Y’all get me through it!!!

And of course!! I thank all of YOU for following this journey of drafting Moth Work. My community on here never fails to amaze me, and I’m a big stan of you all!! Please tag me in your stuff--I’d love to read about what you’re writing!

Here’s to finishing a book, but more importantly, to hoping I don’t make Moth Work a series lmaoo!!! *pops confetti*

--Rachel

[calliecat93]

So with March now here, I’m ready to get back into being productive. Here are the upcoming plans for the blog. Of course how far these go will depend, but this is the general plan that I hope to follow.

Resuming the Disney Princess Retrospective. I have Beauty and the abeast sitting halfway done in my drafts and hope to have it done and posted by the end of the month, though no promises. After we continue forward. I also decided that despite my intentions to do so... I’m cutting Frozen out for now. Mainly of how massive and time consuming it would be, and I’m already struggling. Also I have to determine if Raya is going to count as am official Disney Princess and if so, that will be taking Frozen’s place. I’ll do Frozen and Frozen II another day (I AM consideirng reviewing the Disney Animated Features, so I’d include it then maybe). If Raya doesn’t count, then it will end with Moana.

RWBY Reviews are remaining on hold until the volume is over. I will go back and do it then. I am making a few changes like shortening the overview to just a basic paragraph instead of a play by play and onviously predicitons will be cut all together. There will be one mass volume review when completed. I am sorry to have dropped the ball on this for multiple reasons, especicially since I did so well with keeping momentum up during V7. Guess 2020 and some certisn events took their toll on me. But I AM going to grt it done even if it takes me until V9.

As I announced not too long ago, I am beginnign a Star Trek TOS Review Project. This I am doing for fun. I’ll be critical nd analytical, but this is simply for my own enjoyment. These will be longer and more detailed than my brief watchthrough thoughts and expect opinions to change from those first viewings. Unlike last time not only am I going to watch the oriignal pilot that I skipped last time (and already have a plan on how to review The Menagerie two parter which consists of mainly footage of that pilot), but this time I am going in production order listed on the Alpha Memory Wiki. Whenever I review something, I like going in the intende dorder since there’s always these little things that affect characterization and development even in an episodic series like TOS. So I will watch it as it was intended... with ine exception at the very end, but that’s for later. The movies will also be reviewed if I make it that far. Reviews are planned for a weekly release. Got some other TOS related posts I’m consideing, but those will come later.

The ST Watchthrough will continue. First with the Kelvin Timeline films, then we jump into TNG. As it is over 170 episodes and four films, this is very much going to take me a while. After that if I still have the urge to continue the plan is to proceed to Deep Space Nine, then Voyager, Enterprise, and finally Discovery. I’m on the fence about apicard after looking it up and Lower Decks and TAS don’t appeal to me. I will likely be watching Strange New Worlds when that starts, but I hope to be done with the watchthrough project by that time.

Again, IDK if these will go forward or not. But we’re gonna try!