#i almost considered not posting this on a wednesday but then i wrote everything and uhhh yeah i think i gotta so

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[thenextdawn-backup]

I Will Rescue You

Word count: 3.4K

Summary: story inspired from a Tik Tok, you have always had a blog about Jenna and your mental health, and one day your dreams about meeting her will finally come true.

Warnings: mentions of depression, suicide. Fluff at the end

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

This is my favorite story so far. It has a special meaning for me. There’s a lot of me in this story, almost for 6 years now I’ve been struggling with depression and aside from this being a story, I meant what I wrote, I really did. Don’t ever give up because there’s always something’s good in the end of a storm🤍✨

———

Your account on twitter has always had a big following, mostly because of the contents and the subject of your posts. Jenna Ortega. You were the same age as her and you’ve loved her and her work ever since you first saw her on screen, on Stuck in the middle. Ever since you saw every show or movie she was in, every interview every nomination. You never missed any of it, though people on twitter didn’t just follow you because of your contents about Jenna, they also had learned to care about you and your mental health. You’ve always shared how Jenna has saved your life just with some sentences she’d say on the internet that’d make you keep going.

You were suicidal and depressed, and on your twitter account you shared your road to recovery, your ups and down, all of it but most of all you’d encourage people to keep on going, just like you were trying to do, thanks to Jenna. You had never talked to her, she did like your post at times (it was very rare) and that was enough for you, it was like a sign that you had to keep going and that you had to do it so that one day you could get to meet the girl that has saved your life. Each times there were castings open for a show of hers you’d try send your tryout or application even for a side character, you might have seemed obsessed but really, you just wanted to thank her, that was all you wanted to do. You never got called back for her shows until one day.

You had auditioned for one of the side character in Wednesday Season Two, but the director really liked you - considering you had no experience, you must have been really good - and decided to give you one of the main roles in season two of the show. Of course you had to share this with the people that followed you but obviously you couldn’t spill too many details and had to keep it up to a certain point, so you ended up not posting. Recently you had been posting less and less, making your followers really worried about you, given the fact that your last post was “currently about to give up. “ people might have thought you’d do that for attentions but your followers knew better, they knew you were serious. Luckily you hadn’t given out your name so no one could actually retrace you.

You were thrilled, you would finally get to meet the girl that saved your life. You wanted to tell her everything, you just wanted her to know that she saved your life in so many ways that she couldn’t even imagine. And here you were, heading off to Romania to film Wednesday Season Two. You knew your schedule would be tight from now on and you didn’t mind that, because you knew that you would be happy. You finally had the job of your dreams with the girl you always admired… only she didn’t know about you of how she saved you, but that’s where you were wrong. She had been following your twitter account (she wasn’t a follower of yours, but she’d look for your profile to check on you, see if you were alright.) she knew that this fan of hers was struggling, but she didn’t know that it was you, her new cast mate. How could she have known, after all? You never gave out your name for obvious reasons.

Your first day on set was surprisingly good, the atmosphere was just everything you dreamed of. Trailers, sets ready, cameras, booths for food and hair and make up. You had imagined that there was a lot of work behind a show like this, just not THIS MUCH work. The other cast members hadn’t arrived yet but you got the chance to meet the director, Tim Burton. “Hey there! You must be (Y/N) right?” He asked as he shook your hand with a smile. “Yes, it’s really nice to meet you and to be here, it feels surreal” you looked around, still pretty astonished from the whole environment. “It’s good to have you here! You seriously have no experience in the movie industry? Your audition was amazing.” You shook your head, scratching your neck as you blushed. You were a really shy person.

“Really, I have no experience… that’s why I auditioned for a side character… I never thought that you’d want to take someone with Zero experience as a main character” you said and that made him smile. “Well I can recognize talent whenever I see some and there’s really a lot of talent in you, I couldn’t just let it go to waste” he said and that made you smile “plus, the other cast members are around your age and they are all really nice people so they’ll give you lots of tips and tricks of the job, just wait till you meet them” he said kind of excitedly. A while later the other cast members arrived, all together. Percy, Hunter, Joy, Emma and… Jenna.

There she was. The girl that had saved your life. You’d repeat that a thousand of times and you’d never get tired of it. You were ready to tell her everything, and then… you were not. “Hey! I suppose you’re (Y/N)!” It was Emma talking, who held out her hand to you. You shook her hand happily as you looked to everyone else “y-yes it’s me, hi” you said awkwardly, blushing as you shook everyone hers and else’s hand, and Jenna’s too. “I’m Jenna. It’s really good to finally meet you, Tim has talked a lot about you and your audition, we can’t wait to see you in action” she said smiling as she let go of your hand and flashed you one of her brightest smiles. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it. I’m a big fan of all of your works I have to say.” You tried to keep it formal, you didn’t want to seem like the obsessed fan as you didn’t want them to push you away, so your dream of telling her everything vanished with that thought.

The talk with her and everyone else was pretty casual, you didn’t want them to think you were nothing but a fan, and with you being really shy you stayed quiet all the time. They were really good friends with each other and it was easy for them to just talk about anything, but you were scared of being refused by them and you didn’t even know how to engage a small talk with them, unless it was them asking you stuff to which you’d obviously reply, but aside from that, you were quiet. That day like the cast usually does they all sat together in one trailer to play Uno and they invited you as well. They had noticed you were really shy, but they figured you just needed to warm up to them. So they included you in each activity, wether it was hanging out together inside someone’s trailer or going out on dinners together.

That night as you were playing Uno and you were being really quiet as your usual, you had noticed that Jenna was quiet, too. She was very distracted unlike her usual when these nights happened, not that you’d learned. “Jen, are you okay?” Percy asked, getting her attentions as well as everyone else’s in the room. “Yeah, I’m just worried… do you remember that girl on twitter I told you about?” He nodded, but Emma looked at her confused. “What girl?” She asked “there’s this girl, she’s the same age as me. She’s been following me and my work ever since Stuck in the middle. She has always struggled with Mental health and always talked about how I saved her even with just a sentence…” shit, she was talking about you. Was she? “Well her last tweet is from two weeks ago and she tweeted “currently about to give up” and I’m so worried, I just want her to be okay” they definitely were talking about you.

“Well do you know her name? Have you tried texting her-“ everything else became background noises as you thought about everything that she had just said. You couldn’t be in the same room as her at the moment, you just couldn’t bare to. You didn’t want to break and end up telling her everything, you didn’t want to sound that desperate that you’d audition to spend time with her… you had to find an excuse to leave. “Uhm… I’m sorry to interrupt but I think I’ll go to my trailer… it’s been a long day, I woke up pretty early to catch the plane and I’m really tired so I’m going to sleep… goodnight everyone and thanks for the night” you thanked them and they all told you good night, including Jenna but with that same worried look in her eyes.

As soon as you arrived at your trailer you had to keep calm, you wanted to keep calm… only you couldn’t. You wanted to tell her everything but at the same time, could you? Would you seem like a stalker if you told her everything? It was all so scary, and you were reevaluating your choices of coming here. Yet on the other hand, if there was anything you could do to make Jenna less worried was write a tweet. “Hi guys, I’m sorry if I worried you all. I’m fine, just been a rough period. Thank you for supporting me <3” Jenna got the notification of your tweet and her friends saw her exhale of relief as they went on with their night.

The following days went by pretty smoothly you would say. You started filming and you were really good, you’d do all scenes in one take, mostly because your anxiety made you do all things good and precisely, that was probably the only good thing about it because except from that it was not a healthy kind if anxiety. You were slowly warming up to everyone else but you still tried to keep your distances from Jenna. She had tried asking you about it but of course you would just tell her that it was her impression, and that you acted like this with everyone else as well, though she knew that there was something else behind it.

Your time with the others was strictly on set, you refused to spend time with them anywhere else, too scared to break in front of everyone. However even on set the situation was becoming too overwhelming for you, Jenna’s presence and all, good you just wished you could hug her and finally feel safe. The other actors as well as the director noticed your “situation” but just wondered that it was because you had never been on set before and you were still trying to figure out everything, get used to the sleeping schedule and all of it, luckily there was a period where your character wasn’t included in filming so you had a period of rest. Of course the others asked you to spend time with them, wanting to include you in their friend group but you would always make up some excuses.

Though Jenna wasn’t stupid. She knew that there was something up with you and she wanted to help you. The fact that you were also trying to ignore her told her that something was going on and that you refused to tell her, so she had to find out. One day after filming, she saw the lights on in your trailer and decided to come in and talk to you. You heard knocks on your door as you put on a hoodie and opened the door. “Jenna… hi” you said with a small smile, your attempts of ignoring obviously had all failed? “Can I come in? I want to talk to you real quick” she took a quick look at you, eyes puffy and swollen as if you had been crying, but she didn’t want to interrogate you on that, not yet.

She walked in the trailer and looked around. It was meticulously clean and everything was in order, except for your bed. Your laptop and phone on your bed open for everyone to see, but she minded her own businesses and only looked at you. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re ignoring me, but I know you’re going through something and I would like to help you…” she started and looked at you, tears filling your (e/c) eyes as you tried to look away from her. “Uhm.. I’m-I’m going to the bathroom real quick and then we can talk…” you said and watched her nod lightly, as you quickly went to the bathroom. You were going in full panic but you couldn’t Jenna was there in the other room, so you just washed your face real quick and tried to catch your breath.

In the meantime, Jenna in the other room had to figure out what was going on. She was sure you wouldn’t tell her everything, so she decided to invade your privacy. ‘Just momentarily,’ she thought. ‘It’s for her own good.’ When she went to take a look at your laptop she saw Twitter was open, your account - the one she has been worried about - open for her to see. It wasn’t like you were just looking at that profile, it was your profile and she was sure of that because you had the interface of writing a post open.

And suddenly she realized everything. The girl who has always wanted to meet her, the one she has wanted to meet; the girl she had saved; the girl she has always wanted to reassure that she’d be okay. It was you, it was you the whole time and she was honestly so glad that it was you, she was so glad to see you were okay. When you came out of the bathroom and saw her look at your laptop, you immediately walked over “what are you doing?” You asked her and immediately took the laptop, shutting it close and moving it away. “(Y/N), you’re that girl from twitter-“ she didn’t know what else to add, it all came out as a shock to her. You looked down, tears still filling your eyes as you refused to say anything. “Why did you never tell me anything?” She asked you and you sighed, sitting down trying to calm down and catch your breath.

She sat down next to you, hand on your back as she waited for you to speak. “I- I didn’t want to come out as desperate to your eyes. I mean I am I never denied I’m not… all I ever wanted to do was just meet you and tell you everything but when I came here, I just couldn’t. I froze, I didn’t want to seem like the stalker of the situation that would find a role on set just to be with you. Truly that was not what I meant to do, but I did and now I’m going out of my mind. I tried not to say anything because you have your perfect life, I didn’t want to be a weigh in your life with my pathetic needs, so I never said anything. But it’s getting really heavy, It’s really hard to keep everything in with my condition-“ by now you were full on sobbing, and Jenna took your hand to try and reassure you.

“This is why I’m always staying alone in my trailer… I didn’t want to just be a weight” you kept not looking at her, wiping your own tears with your free hand, while Jenna was tightly squeezing your other one, rubbing her hand against your back. “When on my profile I said that you saved me, I mean it, Jenna. There were days where I was on the verge of… committing suicide…” you said the last two words in a lower voice tone “and then I’d remember your interview, when you said about fighting depression and I’d think “why kill myself when I still have my whole life ahead of me” and I’d be okay, if I never got to know you I would have never survived those crappy periods” you kept it simple, not wanting to go in details.

“(Y/N),” she called for you, and you looked up to look at her, eyes worried and eyebrows furrowed in sorrow “I’m sorry for everything that you went through, but I’m glad that even just a few sentences of mine managed to keep you floating.” She started and kept on holding your hand, but when she saw you pulling it away she squeezed it even tighter. “I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me. As you know I’ve struggled with depression too, and it wasn’t easy coming out of it but there’s nothing better than saying “I made it” and I want to hear you say it too” you looked down at what she said, you had been depressed for a really long time now and you didn’t believe that there was any chance of you getting better.

“Look at me” she used a soft voice of tone, eyes completely focused on you as you turned to look at her, she noticed fear in your eyes as you tried to focus on your breathing. “if you get lost, I will send out an army of people to find you, even when you’re in your darkest places I’ll be there to rescue you from every single one of them. Now that we know each other it’ll be even easier. I know you think you’ll never get out of it but you will and I’ll be there every step of the way. Are we clear?” She said with a soft, sad smile as she looked at you hopeful.

You slowly nodded at her and tried hinting a small smile as well, she knew you wanted to try, she knew you were willing to do so with her. “Come here” she said and pulled you in a hug, the one you have been craving for so long, and She heard you try and suppress sobs. “You can let it go (Y/N)” she whispered in your ear. You tried to keep your composure for some more, but you gave in. You were soon crying on her shoulders and gripping her shirt almost as if your life depended on her - which it kind of did - you finally got to tell her everything, you finally got to hug the woman that has saved your life multiple times and she promised to you and herself to help you out, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

You were so sobbing and screaming on her shoulders, your tears wetting her shirt but she didn’t seem to care as she held you tightly as one hand brushed through your hair, all while she kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “It’ll be okay (Y/N). You’re okay. I’m here with you from now on” she kept on repeating, trying to reassure you until you had actually calmed down, which took around 15 minutes. When the two of you had pulled back from the hug she moved some hair away from your face as you smiled at her, and noticed that her eyes were now red and teary too. “Why are you crying too?” You asked her, sniffling as you took a tissue and cleaned your nose. She smiled “I’m just glad to finally be at your side and see you’re okay” she nodded and sniffled as well, you smiled slightly.

“Are you gonna come to Percy’s trailer to play uno from now on? We really enjoy being around you” she asked, this made you smile brighter than earlier, luckily they didn’t just see by you as a “newbie” and actually wanted to be around you. You nodded at her and smiled, soon enough she took your hand and the two of you headed to his trailer.

Looks like you’ll finally have some friends.

[moqi2004]

Omgomg I need to see Dalv being introduced to Starlo's family

Hi! Sorry for how long this took! I wrote about 400 words last Wednesday and couldn't get myself to write more, and I was busy after that. It's done now though, and I hope you enjoy! I will tell you that on the proofread, I screamed to myself saying "THEY'RE GAY" multiple times out loud.

And to the anon who more recently asked for this same thing, you get your wish early :) congrats!

Family Introductions

Words: 1530

Cross-Posted on Ao3

Tags: implied past Staroba (one sided), family interactions, fluff, self-consciousness, anxiety, family teasing, sugary sweet, reassurances, Starlo being a proud boyfriend.

Summary: Starlo takes Dalv to meet his family in Sunnyside Farm. Dalv is understandably nervous about this. He finds that he has nothing to worry about.

Fic under the cut. Enjoy :)

Dalv’s first time in the Wild East had been the most fun he’s ever had. At first, the heat had been difficult to deal with, and the grains of sand loitering around within his shoes were almost unbearable. Luckily for him, his boyfriend was there. Starlo had offered to carry his cloak while they walked, which Dalv was quite happy to let him do. He also rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, attempting to cool down his body as much as possible. It didn’t take Dalv long to notice that Starlo was staring at him, eyes widened and face slightly flushed. Dalv bashfully held back from bringing it up.

He made a mental note of the reaction regardless.

The Wild East itself was a quaint little tourism spot with limited technology. Dalv noticed that most shopping and general commerce was done in Oasis Valley just west of there, while classic Dunes entertainment was celebrated right here. With a rustic tavern and even a jail (for show, thankfully), the place felt like it had jumped right out of a children’s tale! The aesthetic and charm quickly drew Dalv in, allowing to forget about the unbearable heat for just a moment.

Having the opportunity to meet all of Starlo’s friends was truly a blessing for him. After saying a quick hello to Ceroba, who he had kept in close contact with after she visited him in Snowdin with a box full of corn, he was introduced to The Feisty Four. They were all a joy to get to know. Dalv was content to sit and watch as Ed and Moray teased and bantered with Starlo, Ace staying back with him to make sure he was comfortable. Dalv had to reassure Ace a couple of times that he didn’t feel like he was being dragged around or forced into goofing with the posse. Star did have to stop Mooch from looting Dalv’s person a couple of times.

The two of them didn’t linger for very long, however. While Starlo did consider his posse as a second family, the real reason the two came all this way was so Dalv could visit Starlo’s family. As the two walked past Blackjack’s and out of town, Dalv couldn’t ignore how his heart began to race and his mind began to panic. What if Star’s family didn’t approve of their relationship? What if they didn’t like him? What would he do if things went wrong? Would he and Star have to…?

“Hey, Dal? You doin’ okay? Yer shakin’ a bit…”

Dalv’s attention quickly snapped towards Starlo. In his thoughts he had failed to notice that they had stopped walking, the pair’s hands carefully intertwined. Starlo could probably feel just how sweaty Dalv’s palm was starting to become. 

“Uh- I’m…”

Dalv wanted to tell Starlo that everything was okay…

He knew that would help nothing.

“I’m worried… I don’t really know if your family will like me…”

“Dal…” Starlo reached towards him with his free hand and rested it against his cheek, “I know my Ma and Pa will love ya. With a huge heart like yers, I know they’ll see ya for the monster I love. Heck, with the dedication to yer work and experience growin’ corn yerself, I’m sure even Orion will get along with ya! All you need to do is be the vampire I fell in love with.”

“But what if they hate me-”

“If they hate ya I’ll drag ya outta there and shower ya with all the kind words ya deserve t’hear.”

“So you won’t… Leave?”

“Of course not, darlin’... Never.”

Starlo leant forwards and pressed a delicate, reassuring kiss to Dalv’s forehead. Dalv allowed his shoulders to relax and nestled himself within his boyfriend’s arms. Star returned the hug eagerly, pressing a couple more light kisses to his horns. Dalv was unsure why he was so apprehensive in the first place. He had Starlo, after all. He knew the Sheriff was a noble and kind soul. He was ashamed to even think that he considered Star leaving him because of his family’s reactions.

“So, uh,” Starlo spoke up, the two still embraced, “you still ‘aight to do this?”

“Of course,” Dalv broke away with a warm smile, “lead the way.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. 🦇 .* :☆ ﾟ｡･ ───

Dalv was certain he had stepped into his own personal heaven. He knew that was probably a little sad, calling a corn farm the equivalent of paradise, but he truly couldn’t help it! The farm was a quaint little area with a corn field bigger than what Dalv could ever grow back in The Ruins. A cute, cobbled path and a little white house completed the homely feel that Sunnyside Farm radiated so strongly. Nearby, a four-pointed star in messy overalls and a plaid shirt was tending to the crops. Star momentarily glanced towards Dalv before waving.

“HEYYY, ORION!” he yelled, causing Dalv to jump a little.

The star turned around, eyebrow raised and lips drawn in a line of mild annoyance. He then caught sight of Dalv, who squeezed Starlo’s hand for support as the two were approached.

“Starlo,” Orion briefly regarded, “who’s this?”

“Right!” Starlo moved his hand from Dalv’s to wrap his arm around his shoulder, “Orion, this is Dalv, my partner! Dalv, this is Orion, my brother!”

“H-Hello there,” Dalv held out his hand for Orion to shake, "It's, uh, nice to meet you. This farm looks so well maintained, you must do an excellent job keeping the crops at this quality. I struggled to grow my own in The Ruins because of the lighting conditions and drab environment, but I found that with enough love and care the stalks can still grow to be incredibly strong and durable. It really portrays the… Strength of the… Plant…”

Dalv trailed off, eyes wide. Oh no, he’d been caught corn rambling! How could he let himself do that??? He focused back on reality when he felt his outstretched hand move up and down.

“You managed to grow corn in a place like that?” Orion asked, letting go of Dalv’s hand.

“Yea, he did!” Starlo chimed in, looking at Dalv with the proudest expression, “really impressive stuff, too! I’ve seen it myself!”

“Ah, it’s nothing that impressive-” Dalv began.

“Starlo!”

The three turned at the call of Star’s name. A sun monster and a moon monster walked down the steps of the house’s front porch. Starlo happily waved to the both of them, Dalv looking at him and then giving a small, shy wave of his own. When the two approached, the moon wrapped Starlo into a hug, which he seemed content with accepting. The sun monster came over to jostle the hat on Star’s head, as if ruffling the hair he didn’t have. The two then regarded Dalv, who Star was eager to introduce.

“Ma, Pa, this is Dalv! He’s, uh…” Star flushed a light pink, “he’s my partner.”

The two simultaneously looked to Dalv, who willed himself not to shrink backwards at the attention. He’d done many organ concerts at this point, but the stage fright from that could barely compare to the anxiety he felt at this moment. He steeled his mind. Please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please-

Dalv feels his hands being held. It felt different to Starlo’s hands-

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dalv,” the moon monster smiled sweetly, holding both of his hands within her own, “my name is Crestina. I’m Starlo’s Mother. Thank you so much for being there for my little boy.”

“Ma, please…”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, miss,” Dalv beamed.

“My name’s Solomon,” the sun monster added, “and truly, I’m glad Starlo finally found someone else after all these years. I thought that after Ceroba, he’d-”

“Pa, come on!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Solomon let out a hearty laugh.

“Don’t pay them no mind, Dal, I beg of ya…”

“Don’t worry, Star” Dalv looked at his boyfriend.

Dalv wasn’t sure what came over him after that. He just… Spoke.

“Honestly, I should be thanking all of you,” he began, “thank you for raising Star. I’m so happy I was able to meet him. He’s the kind of monster who can make any situation fun; who can bring joy everywhere he goes. He’s just so… Warm. So much so that I feel that same warmth whenever I’m with him. He’s supportive of me and my art, he’s amazing to talk to, and the only person I can think of spending all my time with… I couldn’t imagine life as it was before I met him… So thank you for having me, and uh, hopefully I can be the monster to stay by your son’s side.”

Dalv turned to Starlo, who’s face was a glowing scarlet. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were blown wide under his hat. 

“He’s perfect,” Crestina whispered to herself.

“Huh?” Dalv looked towards her, hands still within hers.

“Come with me, Dalv,” Crestina began to walk, gently guiding Dalv along with her, “I simply must show you our family photo album. I can assure you, my Starlight was an absolute treasure growing up-”

“MA!”

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

REBLOGS > LIKES

[ask-the-sagents]

Ask the Agents Masterpost

This is gonna be the post for pretty much everything about the universe and the characters. It'll be updated on occasion and will remain pinned on my profile - more under the cut:

Edit: I wrote this before side order/splatoon 3 so consider it an AU

Discord Server

Character Pages

Start Reading Here!

Askblog Stuff

The idols will be available for questions sometimes, but not all the time. I'll make a post and update the askbox with whoever is available for questions currently.

Magic Anons are allowed!

Posts will be on Wednesdays and Saturdays - will be a mix of answering random questions and small comics to continue the plot.

If a main character (3,4,5,8)is unavailable, you can still ask them questions, but they won't answer it til after they get back

If a character is available but spotty, it just means they may or may not answer certain questions for the time being.

World Info

The Idols:

Marie - Age: 30 - she/her - bisexual

Callie - Age: 30 - she/they - pansexual, trans

Pearl - Age: 27 - they/she - Lesbian, nonbinary

Marina - Age: 24 - she/her - lesbian

Deep Cut - Coming soon!

Marina and Pearl got married about a year ago (Marina, 23; Pearl, 26)

General World Info:

Currently taking 6 months after the events of Octo Expansion

Spawn points don't exist outside of Turf Wars/Ranked battles

Octavio has been captured and currently resides in a high security prison

Octavio had used sanitization and hypnosis as a tool for control and punishment - he was ruthless even to his own citizens.

NSS:

Their current goal is to find out where all of the sanitized octolings are coming from and to help the octolings coming to the surface. A majority of them don't believe the war is over and are too afraid to leave.

To their knowledge, there are no more hypnotized octolings.

Captain Cuttlefish is retired, NSS is run by Marie and Callie.

There's a temporary camp set up for octolings new to the surface - they make sure any injuries are taken care of and help them acclimate to the surface. They stay in the camp until homes are found for them, which usually takes just a couple weeks.

Marina and Pearl are agents 6 and 7, however their role is much smaller and mainly help on the side of helping misplaced octolings find homes.

Inkling/Octoling Stuff:

They take more after the human side

They bleed actual blood instead of ink

Everybody has a limiter, which is a chip installed in their arm. Without this, they could use up too much ink when battling and possibly die due to their bodies not being able to keep up with production. When low on ink, their tentacles will become extremely dull and lose almost all color. They'll become extremely weak and lethargic until their hearts finally stop.

They have more flexible bones, but they can still break

Inklings and Octolings gain their squid/octo form around puberty - they are in human form up until then

They cannot be in saltwater but can in other types. It takes about 5 minutes of being in saltwater for someone to dissolve

Ink burns are rare but can happen. It's caused by consistent exposure to enemy ink in a single area or an extremely strong shot. They can be painful but they will heal and fade over time - they turn blue in color despite the color of the enemy ink.

When a cephalopod feels intense feelings of romantic love for their partner, their ink color will subconsciously change to match their partner's.

They cannot fall asleep while in squid/octo form; if they do, they will change back automatically.

They have to use special shears to cut their tentacles or else it would be painful.

this will be updated as more information becomes available!

Octolings only have some control over their tentacles, and usually, their tentacles can give hints to their mood. Typically, the older they get, the more control they have, but this isn't always the case.

Inklings and octolings reach full maturity in their 20s-30s. This is where they develop a secondary color at the tip of their tentacles and octolings will also have their hands matching their ink color.

They can get grey ink due to age or extreme stress or anxiety

Hylian Font chart (old, ignore this one!)

Updated hylian Font chart

[chartreuseian]

For the writer's asks: 🍉, 💝, 💥, and 💌, if you would be so kind. :)

Hiiiii! Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

Ooof. Big questions for 6am on a Wednesday morning 😅 I'd say it's not so much about the content, but rather the process of writing that has helped me deal with some of the ups and downs. There is something so soothing about forcing myself in a schedule with it, and making it a part of my routine that means, when everything gets too much or I'm overwhelmed, it's like there's this built in happy place I can sink into. Even if what I produce that day is trash, the habit helps me manage everything else.

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Oh, this is easy! People seemed to get very into the final Valentine's Day story I wrote, particularly the text exchange between the Sanctuary crew in which everyone is just teasing Will for being so out of it that he didn't realise Helen and Nikola were together. I mean, I liked it well enough, but I didn't expect other people to be so into it as well.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

Ha! Well, I had an easy answer but now my fic that had zero has one, which means I have a tie. My two most recent offerings in my new 'A Lifetime of Learning' series are the lowest.

'A Lesson in the Aesthetic Qualities' - I really love how I captured the developing relationship between James, Helen and John. It feels really authentic to me, and the way they play off one another I think builds really well over the rest of the series (even if it's not all posted yet).

'A Lesson in Domestication' - purely from a writing standpoint, I love the first line/last line circular-ness of it. Plus, I think it's pretty damn steamy, tbh.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

OK. So, I went hunting for something I thought you would enjoy and then I remembered this beauty that I smashed out last night... So it is part of the 'A Lifetime of Learning' series which is my 'the Five was also a sex thing AU'. In it, Helen, Nikola, John and James are a Thing and it changes the trajectory of their lives in some ways, but not others. One of the 'nots' is that Henry still comes along and Helen all but adopts him, except now he's sort of raised by all of them.

The following scene comes from when he's around 14 and dealing with the realisation that he's a HAP, and I am IN LOVE with the whole chapter:

Nikola reached over, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. There was a moment where he wondered if Henry might push off the contact, but before Nikola could withdraw his hand, Henry threw himself into his arms, wrapping long gangly limbs around his waist.

Nikola was mildly pleased that he didn't hesitate before wrapping his arms around the boy in response. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Nikola ignoring the poorly muffled sobs that he could feel dampening his tie and choosing to pat the boy's head rather than complain.

A few minutes later Henry pulled back with a final sniffle, obviously intent on avoiding Nikola gaze. In a swell of something that he felt could almost be considered paternal, Nikola reached out and tipped the boy's chin up until he could look him in the eye.

“You know it's going to be OK, right? We'll figure this out.”

[simp-ly-writes]

A major update about my writings...

So... its been a while since I have talked and written for some fandoms or I am growing tired of others. In this long ass post I have colour-coded the sections for the fandoms I write for as an update to what I will be participating within the future. There are so many other shows and fandoms I want to try and write for beyond this list but my asks are always open. I can be swayed with a good idea beyond my points here!

Colour-coded for reference Stardew Valley Harvey Call of Duty Baldur's Gate 3 Hazbin Hotel The Gentlemen (2024)

Stardew Valley Harvey, I feel like I don't recognize the character anymore with how much peoples perspectives have changed on him. Don't get me wrong, I have always and will always love Harvey but I can't help but cringe a bit at, "having my whiskey neat, coffee black, and in bed by three." (I do like this more than him being considered 'boring' while he gives the player one of the most, if not THE most stable relationship in the game).

Also on the Stardew Valley Harvey train of thought. Even if I were to go back to writing about him, I feel as though my writing preferences have changed so much- like everything I wrote about him before all was inter-connected in my own little universe. I feel like I would be intruding on where I left things.

TL;DR: I don't know if I'll go back to writing things about him... but if I do, it will probably be in a separate masterlist quite some time from now.

--

Call of Duty, gosh, where do I begin. I have written the most about COD more than any other fandom I have participated in and I am so very thankful for everyone's support but... I'm a bit worn down with just how much I have written for it- I want to try and write for some other fandoms I have been eyeing.

I will be writing a few last headcanons and the last chapter for Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies. But after those, I will be posting less frequently for Call of Duty most likely (sorry).

--

Baldur's Gate 3, I have almost completed the game now! I have a few new fic ideas and headcanons yet I do not know how long those will take to brew... thank you for your patience up until now!

--

Hazbin Hotel, to put it simp-ly (haha), I am waiting for season two, whenever that will come out, (I do hope the producers take their time to make it a good sequel). Yet my requests and asks for this fandom are open if anyone has ideas!

--

The Gentlemen (2024), one of my newest fandoms and my smallest community. Hello to the usual group! I am still holding up the fort- promise! I have written pt.2 for Betting on Hearts, yet it needs some major editing- don't know when this will come out, but soon!

I also have had many asks as to why or when I am going to be writing an episode-by-episode series for Eddie and the thing is, I haven't started at all with it. I don't really know what side-story I want to follow along the canon-plot yet so *shrugs* it will come one day... maybe. Again I am always open to new ideas!

--

As for life updates with me, I have finished up uni for the summer (yay!) but now I have work. I still do not have an updating schedule but I usually post wednesdays/thursdays or on the weekend, this will stay the same!

Thank you all seriously for all the love and support, I think I am entering my sixth month writing on Tumblr and its still weird to me receiving daily notes for my silly stories.

[ren-c-leyn]

Happy STS Ren! Hope you are having a fun one today^^

Today I want to ask, what do you think makes up your writing style? What parts of it do you aim for and what came along as you wrote, what you realized was part of your style after time? And how do you make sure to keep developing as a writer and not get stuck on the same things? Anything you are aiming for to achieve with your style in the future?

And a writing/creative update if you so please :D

@writingonesdreams

Happy sts to you as well, Dreams ^^

While this would be a good question set for almost anyone else, I'm afraid I don't have the in depth answers you were probably hoping for. ^^;

I'm not really sure what makes up my writing style, Dreams. I actually don't have answers for most of these questions. I've never really stopped to pick apart my writing style before. And now that I'm trying, I don't really know where to start or how to go about it.

Most of my writing is just me vomiting up words and praying it's coherent enough I can edit it into looking like I did it on purpose in drafts 2+.

How do I keep developing as a writer? I just keep vomiting up words. There's no real secret here, I just keep writing and get better with experience. Sometimes I think a challenge or a new technique will sound like fun, like writing multiple POVs or writing a story using journal entries and will try that just to see if it works for me.

In fact, most of what people praise me for, like my characters and their dynamics and how my worlds seem vast even though I don't have everything fleshed out, are things I just do without thinking about it. They just became what they are as I've written and tried out new things that sounded interesting.

I didn't even know my poetry had bled into my prose until people started pointing it out to me. When I realized it was there, I decided to start playing with it more. Seeing what I could do with it. That's how I eventually got to where I could write the opening for The Shackles of Time the way I did.

If I hit a snag, I try to work through it. If I can't, then I step back and look at how the chaotic and utterly unpredictable mess that's my writing 'process' has failed me and try to find a way to fix it. I can't fully plot out a novel, it suffocates the characters and worlds, so I went to pantsing. Except having no plot to aim for left me with no direction and the characters lost interest, so I move to plantsing, for example.

If I'm being honest, the fact that I'm still writing despite it and the many personal set backs I've had/am still having is already a major achievement for me. I've come very close to quitting writing before, very close to giving it up for good. So, I'm not trying to write like anyone specifically, I'm not trying to make my writing anything super fancy, or appeal more to a specific group, and I don't really have an end goal for what I want my style to be, I just want to keep telling stories. As long as I'm still writing, my style can evolve to be whatever it wants.

So, yeah, basically the short version is - I don't know. I tried stuff out and it became this, but I'm not going to complain about it because at least I'm still writing.

~

Creativity update - Nothing new since wednesday. Still working on the last few follower celebration posts as my primary focus. Nothing else is really going to get done until they do.

... Except for the new project which has joined The Dark Princess project in gnawing at my brain stem for attention. I've fleshed out more of the two main characters and have started brewing a few plot points for it. I'm not going to name it or really commit to anything until I know it intends to stick around.

I've also been considering sitting down and naming the characters in the dark princess wip because having 'jerk noble 1' and 'scheming noble' and 'pissed off princess' is making my outline of the story kind of hard to follow.

I've also been considering drawing the casts of the rest of my projects, but I'm not sure how much time/energy I'm going to have once the holiday season gets underway, so it might not happen anytime soon.

As it stands, I've already decided to skip nano this year. My energy levels are just too low to handle another project on top of everything I'm trying to juggle.

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a lovely day/evening.

[amberlyn-34]

Forever! (chapter 1)

So I wrote a thing, a long thing (80,000+ words) and I had it on AO3 for a few years. I recently removed the work but I know some wanted to read it so here are the first few chapters. I will post more later, I am having to re edit it because the edited version was not saved to my computer. 

Also you have to ignore the way technology works for this fic to work, because it would be hard today for someone to disappear because they have amnesia.

Lastly here is the synopses

Landon (Louis) has amnesia following an accident. He does no know who he is or where he is from but he has made a new life for himself. That is until he begins to dream in memories and suddenly remember everything. Now he has to choose between his old life and his new. But the problem is everyone from his old life thinks he is dead and they have moved on without him.  

Chapter one

"Hey Jim, How’s it going," Landon called out to a tall brunette making his way across the room.

"Hey, Landon" Jim says taking a seat at the bar. "Can I get a beer?"

"Sure thing," Landon responds grabbing a glass and opening the tap.

"Is Camie working tonight?"

"Umm. No not tonight, not till Wednesday I believe. Everything okay?" Landon says passing the beer over the counter

"Yeah, I’m just still trying to get her to go out with me."

"Well good luck, Camie goes out with no one."

"That may be true but I'm not giving up yet."

"Okay, but don't say you haven't been warned, that girl is focused on school and not much else."

"yeah. but it's summer."

"I know, but I've known her three summers now and she never dates anyone, from this small town anyways. I think she doesn't want the hassle and distraction of a possible long distance relationship, but what do I know? Good Luck though." Landon says as he heads to the other side of the counter to take a to-go order.

 When he's done and has placed the order with Robbin the cook,  he heads out into the dining area to clean up a few tables and check the trash. This is Nialls, Landon has worked here for seven years. He's not sure how to describe it. It looks like a bar, feels like a bar, but it opens at 11:00 daily serves lunch, and dinner and stays open until 3 am serving apps and drinks. Niall the owner calls it a bar, but it's more than that. It's a small place, there's a pool table and jukebox in the corner. A big flat screen on the wall and about twelve mix-matched tables with chairs scattered around the space. The floors are hard wood hand-built back in the early 1940s, and the walls are a dark wood paneling it's has a very rustic feel. The lighting fixtures are made out of old mason jars hanging from the ceiling and there's a moose head hanging on the wall behind the bar. This is where Landon mostly stays, considering he is the bartender, however, he fills in wherever he is needed. Niall is Landon's best friend and boss. Actually, Landon isn't sure where he would be without Niall and this whole town, they sorta saved his life in more ways than one. The town (Havenston, North Dakota) isn't very big or well-known, population of 2500. However, it is sweet and quint and home to the most friendliest people Landon is pretty sure he has ever known. Main Street makes up most of the town and almost all the businesses are family owned. The Kellers, own the only grocery store, called Keller's Market. There's also a fabric and clothing store owned by the Branch family, called Martha's. If you need or want, natural soaps, fragrances, or cleaners then Sam's is there to help. It's owned by Samantha May Vines, Samantha May is also Landon's girlfriend of two years. The town also has a record shop, a small arcade, a movie theater, (that never shows new movies just classics), a drug store, and a consignment shop/furniture store that Niall's parents have owned for years. It was just furniture, Niall's dad is a carpenter and hand makes most of the furniture there, however, a few years ago they opened the space to consignment as a way to better serve their community. It's called Sauls, after Niall's Grandfather who opened the store in 1950. Along with those shops plus nearly a dozen more, there's a family diner, Kimballs, and a McDonald's, the only chain anything they have. The courthouse, city hall, and post office are all in one building and sits right in the middle of Main Street, right at the turnabout. There's a beautiful park, with a gazebo, picnic area, and a small playground right in front on the turnabout. It's the most beautiful place on earth at Christmas time when it's all decorated and lit up. It could win awards if there was such a thing. The police station sits just behind the courthouse on a small road and the only school is located down Main street a bit. The school is small and educates all children in Pre-K through 12th. Next to the school is the public library and one of Landon's favorite places.  There's a beautiful Bed and Breakfast owned by Debra and Gregory Higgins, they also own a few apartment buildings in town.  Most residents own land or farms that have been in their families for generations, still, others just have small homes in neighborhoods just like every other town and city in the United States. This really is an ideal place to raise a family and grow old, the crime rate is nearly nonexistent, nobody locks their doors and everybody knows everything about everybody. If you're bored or need something more than what this amazing town has to offer, it's only a 20 min drive to the nearest city, which has every superstore, department store, and restaurant there is to offer, not to mention plenty of entertainment. It has that small town feel and look that makes places like this so special and Landon loves it here.

 "Landy, how's it going? Slow still, I see." Niall says looking around while coming through the door from the kitchen.

"It is only 7 pm," Landon reminds him. "What are you doing here anyways, thought you and Jessica had a date.

"Yeah, she had to cancel, her daughter has the flu or something, so I figured I'd come to keep you company."

"ooh, lucky me" Landon jokes.

 Niall and Landon have been best friends since Niall stumbled upon Landon's half dead body while walking on the border of his Grandfathers property, Landon still has no clue what he was doing there or how he got there, it's a mystery like the rest of Landon's life. It's like he just dropped out of the sky and landed, right here in Havenston 8 years ago. Niall dragged Landon a mile back to his grandfather's house and called the Doctor. Dr. Wanda Miller came over as fast as she could and Niall helped her load Landon into her jeep and they took him back to her clinic where she could help him better. Dr. Wanda washed him up, gave him fluid to hydrate him, antibiotics to fight any infection, and prayed for the best. He came too five days later, while Niall sat by his bed talking to him because Niall had read in a book once that talking to people in a coma helped them heal faster. That is Landon's first memory of Niall or anything or anyone really. Landon had no Identification on him, nothing but the clothes on his back and a tattoo on his wrist of an L and H inside a heart. He didn't know his name, or where he was from. Niall and he decided that one of the initials on his wrist where probably his name. Niall named off a few  H names Henry, Hank, Harry, and then some L names, Lucas, Larry, and Lenny, when he said Landon it just felt right. He chose Landon to be his name. Dr. Wanda ran many tests and even took him into the city to the nearest hospital to have a more extensive test run, but nothing really came from it. They called it acute memory loss, probably from some trauma that his mind was trying to protect him from. He would probably gain his memory back when he was ready, however the longer it took, the less likely he'd be to gain it all back. The police put out an APB, trying to figure out who he was or where he came from but after months and now years they still have not found anything. Landon was accepted into this town by its people like family, and Niall gave him a job and let him live in the apartment above Nialls free of charge, except for the utilities he used. Still, to this day, Landon lives in the apartment, but now he insists on paying rent. He lives there with his girlfriend of two years Samantha May, or Sam for short. Sam is beautiful, she has long dark hair, she's short and thin with the most beautiful smile Landon has ever seen. Sam was born and raised right here in Havenston, leaving only for college and some job experience before moving back five years ago to open her own shop. She is a successful 29-year-old woman and Landon is so in love with her. The apartment they share is small, with one bedroom, one bath, and a great room, which is not so great. It's small but called a great room because it's one space for the living room and kitchen. They have plans to buy a house once they marry, but Landon is hesitant to ask her. He will one day, he just doesn't want complications from his past to ruin what should be a beautiful thing but he doesn't know who the other initial on his wrist belongs to. What if the old him is already married, what if he has kids, what if one day someone finds him, his marriage could be voided and he never wants Sam to have to go through that. So for now, they are happy and that's what matters.

 Nialls gets busy like expected, tonight Landon is managing the bar, Kimmy is waiting tables and Robbin is on the grill. Niall is here too, helping wherever he can. The night goes by fast and before long it's 3 am and they're saying goodbye to the last patrons and locking the door. Niall helps Robbin get the kitchen cleaned up and Landon and Kimmy are tag teaming the bar and dining area. It never takes long when they have lots of hands. Kimmy and Robbin leave first just before 330. Niall and Landon stay for a drink before they head out.

 "Busy night," Niall says sounding exhausted.

"Always is," Landon says taking a deep drink from his rum and coke. "So are you and Jessica going to try to go out again soon? Tonight would have been your second date right?"

"yeah, it would have and probably. Her ex was supposed to take her daughter Jenny tonight, but then she was running a fever and Jessica didn't want to leave her. I told her I could come over and hang out with them and watch movies or something but she said no. I guess she's not ready to introduce a new relationship to Jenny. She wants to wait till we are more serious or something. I mean. I get it but it kinda sucks."

"How old is Jenny now? Four?"

"Just turned five last month I believe," Niall says emptying his glass and pouring another.

"Are you sure you are up for this? A relationship with a kid involved could get complicated."

"I know, but bro, I really like her. Besides being smokin', she is so sweet and funny. I could see something more serious with her. I like her a lot. Like, A LOT! A LOT!" Niall says

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm happy for you, I hope it works. She seems great in the few conversations that I have had with her over the years and I agree she is very pretty." Landon says getting up to wash his and Niall's glasses. "Come on, I'll walk you out, I'm tired I need sleep." He says pulling Niall up from the stool and leading him out the back door. He locks up and watches Niall walk to his car before he takes the steps up to his apartment. He comes through the door and heads straight for the bathroom, trying to be very quiet and not wake a sleeping Sam. She has to open her business at 9 am tomorrow and a cranky Sam is never a good thing. He comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later and climbs in bed slowly, trying not to let the mattress dip too much, but as soon as he settles, Sam rolls over and cuddles up into him. He isn't even sure she knows she does it every night but it is his favorite thing.

  ("Piper, let's go sweet girl we are gonna be late." He says as a beautiful little girl around age 3 with a head full of golden brown curls comes running down the stairs. As soon as she sees him, her whole face lights up and she jumps into his arm. Screeching "Daddy" at the top of her lungs. In the distance, he can hear a baby crying. However, he is too distracted by the laughing child in his arms to figure out where the baby is. "Tickle me, daddy." She says and he obliges her and she squirms and giggles until she asked him to put her down. "Come on Daddy, I'm gonna be late," she says taking his hand and pulling him through the door. He helps her in the car and like on autopilot begins to drive, it isn't until he pulls up to an extremely familiar house that things start to get weird. He has been here before, in fact, he knows this house, this is his house and on the porch stands his mom.)

[obsessive-dumpling]

Mini Fic

Meant to post this before Wednesday but didn’t have enough time! But I wrote this little doodle for my beautiful moot @hoe-doroki she deserves better but this is all my brainrot could muster. (Sorry doll)

Please enjoy this mini fic of Izuku, in his sleep deprived state, trying to figure out how to address Kacchan’s apology.

It was a blur. All the people who came up to check on Izuku, being ushered this way and that. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, or that he wasn't happy to see so many faces he missed, he was just exhausted. The adrenaline long since run out, and in its place was just the sheer weight of it all. Not to mention, the additional weight of doubt over simply being there. But even tired and distracted as he was, he wasn't oblivious. 

Or maybe a better way to put it, is that he could never miss something that he never looked away from to begin with. His eyes always automatically scanning and landing on blonde. If we wanted to consider this one of his parallel processes, then it would probably be his first. Always looking to Kacchan, automatically fixing on where he was. He had done it his whole life, and though he was sure the other boy knew of this, he never seemed to acknowledge or participate. 

Until now. 

No matter how the crowd jostled Izuku, pulling him from talking to the citizens, then the heroes, then Recovery girl, then being brough back to the dorms, spikey blonde hair never once left his peripheral. Before UA, it was as if Bakugo Katsuki simply marked north, and Izuku would align himself to it. His former friend’s back the needle guiding him. During their time at UA, that metaphor shifted as they learned to work together again. Making it seem more like being attached by a bungee cord than someone following a compass by themself. If Kacchan pulled one way, Izuku was forced to follow and vice versa. But this? 

This felt more like a dance. As Izuku moved, Katsuki moved, but it wasn't forceful. It felt more natural. Izuku, and his second natured awareness of the other found himself shifting every time he was moved, keeping his body pointed towards the other. This wasn't new, he had been doing it since the compass phase. What was new was the fact that Katsuki was doing the same. His movements were almost unnoticeable but always ended with his body pointed towards Izuku, and usually no more than an arm's length away. With the exception of when his mom finally dragged him to the dorm showers to get cleaned up. Even then though, when he came out, Kacchan was standing near the door. Somehow Izuku knew, he had been there the whole time.  

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us, but I gotta speak... my truth.”

The words rang through his mind.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

Izuku..

Izuku.

"Izuku!" 

"Huh, what?!" He shook his head and looked at his mother, whose eyes were wide with worry. "Sorry, I must have spaced out." 

He rubbed the back of his neck and allowed himself to use the opportunity to glance over his shoulder, hoping to still find the blonde hair in his sights. They sat in the dorm kitchen to eat before his mother would allow him to go sleep. When he looked over his shoulder though, he was met with red eyes already on him. He lowered his arm but held his gaze. Neither looked as if they were going to look away. Or even that they wanted to for that matter. Both just stared, with quiet resolution.

“I knew he would bring you home,” Izuku’s mother spoke softly, her voice pulled him away for a moment to look back at her. “It was in his eyes.” 

Izuku didn’t know what to say to that. Just like he didn’t know what to say to Kacchan. His mother saw his lack of answer and smiled.

“You’ll get there,” she continued in her hushed tone. “It’s in your eyes too.”

His eyebrows pulled together, he didn’t know what that meant. He looked over his shoulder again, only to find that Kacchan was gone. Panic built in his stomach, as his eyes scanned the room. Why am I panicking? He thought to himself. Class-A milled about as they “celebrated” their successful retrieval mission simply with some time spent together. But there was no Kacchan.

“You should get some sleep, nerd.” A low voice said next to him. He whirled around just to find Kacchan leaning over him to pick up his and his mother’s plates.

“Oh, thank you Katsuki,” Inko smiled at him, but stood and took the plates from his hands. “You should get some sleep too though.” He looked back at her for a moment, they seemed to share a silent conversation. In the end he shrugged and turned to walk towards the staircase, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly as he passed Izuku. Izuku stared after him.

“Now, I don't expect this to change a thing between us,”

But how can it not? Izuku thought. And what if I want it to?

Izuku stood abruptly when the door to the stairwell swung shut, cutting his sight of the other off.

“Maybe you should go upstairs too,” his mother spoke next to him. “I’ll tell everyone you said goodnight.” She winked at him. He leaned down and quickly kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered and made his way quietly to the elevator. He waited for the doors to open and when they did he jammed his thumb into the number four button.

“Izuku... I'm sorry for everything.“

I don’t know what to say to that! I never expected an apology! I never wanted an apology! I forgave you along time ago! Did you not see that?

The doors closed and he felt the elevator starting to move.

“but I gotta speak... my truth.”

No, of course you did. Just like I saw you trying to atone. We always see each other, don’t we? But we never say anything! We’re always missing each other.

The elevator dinged and Izuku staggered off, the exhaustion slightly over taking him now. But he stumbled on down the hall, letting his sleep deprivation fill him with bravery, until he faced the second to last door on the right with the gold name plate that read “Bakugou”.

“Izuku...”

I don’t really know what I want to say yet, but I know what I want to hear, and I know who I want to see!

He took a deep breath and raised his fist to knock on the door.

“Izuku…?”

That was too loud to be in his head.

He whirled around for a second time and feared for a moment that he might get whiplash. The thought washed out of his mind as quickly as it appeared though as he faced surprised red eyes. There was silence for a long moment as they stared at each other. Finally, his mom’s voice rang through his head:

“It was in his eyes.”

“Again.” Izuku spoke firmly. He watched as surprise changed to confusion.

“What?”

“Say it again.” The confusion deepened for a beat before suddenly blossoming into understanding.

“Izuku…” The corners of Izuku’s mouth twitched but he held back his smile.

“Again.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow but obliged.

“Izuku,” He spoke with less hesitancy.

Izuku swallowed unsure of how far he could push his luck telling Kacchan what to do. Something told him though, that he could push this pretty far if he wanted to. Unsatisfied with the current results, he continued.

“Again.” He said taking a step towards Kacchan, who immediately stood straighter.

“Izuku.” He finally said with complete confidence and also took a step forward, leaving only one step between them.

Izuku couldn’t contain it any longer, he let go of the sun flare smile he had held back and a fresh new set of tears all at once.

“I gotta speak my truth too,” he choked out. “Kacchan, I---” his eyes became heavier than he was expecting with the tears. They slid shut and he slid forward, closing the gap.

Katsuki caught him quickly and turned him to see his face. Izuku had finally fallen asleep.

A vein pulsed in Katsuki’s forehead.

Are you kidding me? How are you going to pass out at a time like this? He thought to himself.

Unconscious, Izuku turned further into his arms. Katsuki froze until he settled again.

“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled. Katsuki leaned forward. “I’m home.”

With no one around, a single tear rolled down Katsuki’s face as he slowly bent down and scooped Izuku up under the knees. He fumbled with the doorknob, walked in quietly, and closed the door behind him. He gently laid him on the bed so he could finally sleep, safe, and where he could see him.

Ya know what? I can wait.

“Welcome home, Izuku.”  

[feitansluver]

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

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

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

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

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

[youaremysamshine]

So I wrote a thing! A whole thing! If you want to read some mostly-angst about Sam’s feelings directly post-Gadreel, then maybe think about reading this? I’ve posted it below and on AO3.

-----

Sam is reeling after he has kicked Gadreel out. He never wants to lose time again - unfortunately, his body needs sleep. 

Post 9.10 "Road Trip"

----- The first night is easy. Tired as Sam is, the fear and pain and disorientation far outweigh any exhaustion, and despite promising Cas he’ll try to get some rest, he never considers actually going to sleep. The idea is absurd. So yes, on the first night it’s almost effortless to avoid sleep. 

The next day isn’t extremely hard, either - in terms of staying awake, that is. It’s plenty hard in other ways, of course, but a staple of Sam’s life has been the sleep deprivation, and he is well practiced in functioning on precious little. He can act awake well, and any slips are easily chalked up to his recovery from the events of the past… however long.

But Cas has now spent time being human, and so notices - where previously he might not have - that Sam needs sleep. And after his prompts have been shrugged off several times by Sam - “It’s only 10, it’s not that late...”, “Yes, Cas, after I finish this chapter…”, “Yeah, I’ll just have a bite to eat first…” - Cas all but leads Sam to his bedroom and tells him to sleep. Now. 

Sam acquiesces to this command, knowing Cas won’t let it rest if he does not, but again, he still has no intention of falling into unconsciousness. The idea of sleep is terrifying. He can’t. He’s well aware his body wants to - his eyes are sore and he has been frequently yawning for the past hour - but he will not give in. Not today. 

He picks up another book from his own shelves - the one he had been reading in the library had been left behind when Cas had shepherded him to his room - and settles down in his chair to read. Okay, he might be needing to reread each sentence to take in the meaning, and yes, he did just spend several minutes wondering if queue was really a word, but no, he won’t yield, this is still far better than-

He startles, jerking forward, bashing his abdomen against the desk. The book has fallen out of his hands, the noise waking him up from his split-second nap. 

Alright, he concedes. I’ll just take a short break.

He sets his phone timer for fifteen minutes. Then ten. Then five. Then ten again. He lies down and shuts his eyes, but immediately gets up again, pacing the room. He cannot do this. He sits down at the desk again, not bothering to pick up the book this time, tapping his fingers anxiously against the wood. He can barely think, he’s so tired. 

Go back to bed, set your timer. Lie down, just stay there. Wait. It’s only ten minutes. It’s fine, Sam. Just ten minutes.  The timer goes off, quicker than he had expected, and he resets it. This will work, this might actually work. He had changed into his pyjamas earlier to placate Cas, and is pleased with the comfort that they afford him now. His eyes close, his body relaxes, finally getting the rest it deserves. 

BEEP. A brief moment of panic checking where he is, that the time is right, but relief soon follows. He resets the timer. He falls back to sleep. 

BEEP. Frustration at being woken up. Relief that he has woken up. Resetting the alarm.

Sleep. BEEP. Repeat. Sleep. BEEP. Repeat. Unconventional, but effective. Sam sleeps. He sleeps well. 

And then suddenly Kevin is there, looking at him trustingly until his eyes burn out and he no longer can and Sam is painfully wrenched back into wakefulness, the name of the boy falling from his lips as his eyes fly open. He scrambles for his phone. 

4:32

It’s 4:32. It should be 2:15. He is certain he’d last restarted his alarm at 2:05. He had been checking each time, paying close attention because he needs to know. 

Oh God, 4:32. That’s two whole hours. Fuck. Anything could have happened in two hours. He can’t -- He needs --

Cas. Shit.

In a blind panic he races for the door, turning into the corridor at high speed, his hunter reflexes being the only thing that stops him from hurtling straight into the man he wanted to find. 

“Sam?” Cas’ voice is laced with concern, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Sam. But, importantly, he’s still here, still alive, nothing has happened to him. 

“I just…” Sam trails off. Now that he knows Cas is alright, the need to see him has completely changed into a desire to get away, be anywhere else. Cas’s penetrating gaze and worry is not what Sam wants right now. “Toilet,” he finishes lamely, and sidesteps Cas to head to the bunker’s restrooms. 

“Sam, I know you aren’t okay.” Castiel’s deep voice follows Sam down the corridor as surely as the angel does himself. Sam ducks into a cubicle and locks the door, hoping Cas will get the hint. 

“Sam?”

A deep breath. Closed eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m fine.”

He can almost feel Cas’s skepticism about that statement. “I highly doubt that, Sam. Let me help.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sam, I sensed you distress from-” “I don’t WANT you here, Cas!” Even as he says it, he hates himself a little bit more. Cas is just being kind, far more of a good friend than Sam deserves, but right now Sam just can’t stand it. “Let me shit in peace, please,” he adds for good measure.

Footsteps, and Cas’s presence disappears. When Sam makes his way back to his room, he does not see Cas. He’ll apologize tomorrow.

4:44. Three fours. Huh, Good job it isn’t three sixes right? But you can’t get three sixes on a clock, Sam. Unless you count in military.. miltry.. mil-i-ta-ry time? No, don’t be stupid. That only goes up to twenty-two - no, wait, twenty-four? But does it ever reach twenty-four… Oh, crap, I really, really need to sleep. 

4:45. Only one more hour until. Until what? He was going to say until he can get up, or at least, pretend to get up, and go about yet another normal day, no longer needing to feign sleep. But it hits him now that he’s still going to be bone-tired.

He wonders at how he has missed this great, big, obvious fact. He’s been so caught up in avoiding sleep right here, right now, every single minute, that he’s lost the bigger picture. How long can he carry this on for? The rest of tomorrow? Until Wednesday? But he’ll have to stop at some point. 

This is too big, too awful, for him to contemplate right now. No, right now he does not need to sleep. And he can continue doing that. Saying no. He’s good at saying no. He just needs to keep on, just keep on, Sam. 

The next hour goes as slowly as the last two had gone quickly. Eventually he judges it a suitable time to leave for the kitchen to get coffee. He’s thought of how to apologize to Cas, reworded it several times, a good distraction from anything else in his head. 

The kitchen is empty. He still stops every yawn, stifles every urge to rub his eyes. Cas will not get a chance to send him back to bed. The coffee helps, a little, and the second one even more. Cas walks in as he is sipping his third. Sam can’t read his expression. He instinctively lowers his eyes, looks away from Cas, then realises this could be seen as rude, and looks up again. He doesn’t want to hurt Cas more. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“Good morning Sam. Did you sleep?”

Sam notices that Cas missed off the “well” that usually accompanies the end of that question. Cas really knows him. 

“Yeah, thanks.” It isn’t exactly a lie. Sam is fairly certain he had fallen asleep for those two hours, and that has to count for something, right? He quickly plunges on, needing to put the apology out there as soon as possible, and ends up stumbling over his words in his haste. 

“Look, Cas, erm- I’m really sorry about pushing you off last night. I’m not really sure why I acted like that but yeah, it was- I shouldn’t have.” 

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas replies simply. “I was worried - and I was wondering if this morning you might be wanting me to leave properly, to give you your space.”

“What? No!” Sam stands up, needing to ensure Cas does not think that necessary. “No, that’s not at all what I… Well, I mean,” he bites his tongue and thinks about his words. “If you want to go, of course, I don’t want to be the thing that stops you, but no. I was just tired and, well, like you said, not okay last night. I want you to stay here, of course I do - that is, if you want to stay here?” He’s looking at Cas cautiously, hopefully, but is suddenly convinced that of course Cas will leave, everybody leaves.

“My wish is to stay here with you,” Cas says. Sam lets out an involuntary sigh of relief. 

“You look surprised,” Cas comments. Sam is taken aback at how easily Cas can read him. 

“Yeah, no - I… You don’t need to, like, look after me, or anything. And I was horrible to you last night.”

Cas frowns. “But I want to look after you, Sam Winchester. You’ve suffered a great deal and that needs to be put to rights. I am your friend. As for last night - I understand that you were tired; you have now apologised, and it is forgotten.”

Sam stares and nods his head, a little unsure how to react to Cas’s words. “Thank you,” he manages to say, quietly, and Cas’s gentle smile suggests that he might be aware of everything else Sam means beyond the two words. 

Cas walks slowly towards Sam, raising his arms somewhat awkwardly. “If you would like,” he says, “the hug we shared yesterday was rather comforting, and I would like to give you that again.” 

Unbidden, Sam’s mind snaps back to their first meeting. “The boy with the demon blood,” Cas had called him, then. He marvels at how far Cas has fallen, to be here, now, with him, but selfishly he closes the gap, and allows himself to be hugged. It’s the best he’s felt in a long while. 

-------

A second part may happen but probably not. Subscribe over on AO3 if you’re feeling lucky :P

[saras-almanac]

creator tag meme

The lovely @softlass27 tagged me to do this and I am literally only seeing this now, on January 3rd. But what is time anymore? Right? And she’s also the reason her ask about my fic “letting go” has popped back up. Was that really only in September that I answered that? Seriously, what is time? 

Also... yeah I didn’t really write a lot this year. I usually write a fair amount, especially with my own original stuff too, but I just didn’t have it in me this year. My biggest problem (if you consider it a problem) is I love angst and character studies and really digging in to characters and allowing them room to speak their truth or really explore something that canon leaves unexplored. If you will. And in this year of the pandemic and staying at home and all the constant anxiety around that, I just didn’t have the emotional endurance to write a lot of the things I wanted to write. So... just know that I didn’t write a lot this year. 

1. finding one’s footing 

Summary: Two years after Robert is sentenced to prison, he comes home to Emmerdale. Unfortunately it's not that simple as Robert struggles with the anxiety and stress of leaving prison, his mind reverting him back to his post-shooting days, and Chas trying to run him from the village. She's understandably upset at how much Robert hurt Aaron, but Aaron's more closed off than Robert has seen him in years. Robert's desperate to find a way to mend things with Aaron, if only to be friends, but he's not sure he'll be able to with Aaron's strange attitudes towards him, Chas angrily coming at Robert for so much as breathing, and his own struggles.

Reunion 3.0 - Very Robert-centric as he works to rebuild himself and the relationships he "ruined" years ago. Will eventually lead to Aaron/Robert reunion.

I literally cannot believe that this was started at the beginning of the year. And I also can’t believe that I haven’t written anything for it in months. Oops. I still really love this fic idea and really being able to dive into Robert’s frame of mind after being released from prison and really trying to readjust to life again and also just sort of facing the things he tried to avoid in prison. I just love all fics where Robert gets to really voice what he wants or needs and / or fics where Aaron fights for Robert. Plus I cannot wait to write the scene were Robert basically yells at Chas and Paddy for treating Aaron like absolute shit after he was arrested. 

2.  waiting 

Summary:  It’s been two years and Aaron’s still waiting. Literally ever since he found out Robert had been released and on his way to Emmerdale. Reunion 3.0 that is really sappy…

I honestly forgot I even wrote this! (What is this year?) And I just realized that I never cross posted it to ao3 so I’m gonna have to do that this week. But I just really love reunion fics or fics where they’re just happy together. I know that seems contradictory to what I wrote above, but it’s true? And I mean, this isn’t entirely all fluff there’s definitely some emotional angst here because it wouldn’t be my fic if there wasn’t. 

****

And so we come to the end of what I actually wrote this year. Like I said... it wasn’t a lot and that’s totally cool. You gotta just live and let live, you know? But I figured I’d add a few projects / things I’m working on and want to work on for 2021. To sort of even it out in a sense.

1. finding one’s footing

Yeah. This is definitely on the list of things I want to work on this year. I really hate having unfinished works out there and usually don’t start posting a fic until it’s written or almost entirely written just in case things happen in my life and I just can’t get to writing on it. But I was really excited about this fic and wanted to post it as I went. And then the pandemic hit and all my creativity and writing drive disappeared. I do hope to continue it and make progress on it / finish it this year. 

2. letting go  sequel (commentary ask on the sequel)

It’s not secret that people have been wanting a sequel to this fic since basically the second I posted it. And to be totally honest here, I was a bit worried to write it back then because I knew it was going to be not as pro-Liv as I thought people wanted. I didn’t want to bash her or Aaron at all, but I was afraid that people would be really upset at me for daring to question Aaron or make him actually confront the fact that his sister got his boyfriend arrested and Aaron literally seemed to not understand why Robert was upset. And I was really new to writing in the fandom so I didn’t want to cause any disturbances. But now it’s been a few years and I no longer am that concerned about it. People who want to read it will, and those who don’t won’t. And if I get some drama and hate for it, well that’ll be exciting wouldn’t it? My last hateful anon was about Supernatural which was WILD. 

3. 2017 rewrite where Robert finds out he’s got a secret kid after Aaron goes to prison. 

So I’ve written a few snippets of this verse and just really love the idea of dad!Robert and thought that he was the perfect character to have a random kid turn up and turn everything upside down. So I wanted to write one and while there’s so many times that this will upset everything... I figured when Robert was frayed at the seams and Aaron’s in prison and Liv’s acting up was the perfect time for this kid (who’s Noah but not Charity’s kid cause I didn’t want to make up a new kid... *shrug*) to turn up. This is going to have a much healthier relationship between Liv and Robert because as much as she annoys me now, they had such potential in this storyline to actually build Robert and Liv up to being something of a father/daughter unit since they never were going to go there with Aaron. And the drama / tension for Aaron when he is released and for him to see that relationship and the relationship that Robert now has with this kid who Aaron doesn’t know... it’s my favorite kind of tension. 

4. Pub Share AU 

So it’s not really written in any real way, but the general idea is that Robert does end up buying Diane’s half of the pub in 2015-2016. This leads to Aaron and Robert sort of becoming friends of a sort even though Chas hates that Robert’s there. It’s just basically a small rewrite of the 2016 and trial era where they’re already friends and just the tension of living and working around someone you still have intense and complicated feelings for and sneaking around and the also slow burn of enemies (ish) to friends to lovers is just really good. 

5. And I’m honestly probably going to end up writing a Supernatural fic because that’s just who I am now and what I’m about where Dean ends up adopting Claire and Jack in a non-hunter AU. 

Look, I’m going to level with you all... I played The Witcher 3 this year and now all I care about is writing about kids being happy and my favorite characters learning to be fathers. I can’t help it... I just love the idea of this fic because I adore Claire. And after the resurgence of Supernatural in a sense, I remembered how much I love Dean (though he is hitting a bit closer to home now that I’m over 30... but we’re not going to get into that.) 

So yeah... that’s that. It’s not really what it was supposed to be... but I answered it. That counts right? 

I do have plans to work on and/or finish some of these this year but I cannot guarantee anything. I also am just going to let my inspiration and muse take me where it wants to go and work on whatever I want to work on in the moment. I might try to do some more wip wednesday snippets (when I actually start writing again) so anyone who follows me can see what I’m actually working on and just to try and get back into the habit of actually working on my stuff.  💖

[cordonian-literature]

wip wednesday :)

hi y’all so i wasn’t tagged (whoops broke the rules) and it’s still kinda early in the day but i wanted to make this post because i’ve been working on a few other fics and wanted to share :)

i’ve been finishing up Aftermath - the reason it’s taking me so long to post chapters is because i initially had a very sad ending planned. i weeped when i was rereading it because i’ve gotten emotionally attached to the characters (what a surprise) and am now rewriting a happier ending. i think there’s like... 3 chapters left (don’t quote me on that, i’m a mess and it could change, but its unlikely).

there’s also two other fic ideas that i had. the first one kinda throws canon out the window - but there are still some elements, like Bertrand and Savannah’s relationship (though it’s extremely altered), the assassination with Olivia’s parents, Godfrey & Barthelemy’s treason... it’s just changed, like Queen Eleanor’s story is different, Leo doesn’t abdicate, Liam and Drake never really became best friends, and MC (Klara/Claire Brooks) leads a double life, keeping both men (and families) away from each other

the second one throws TRH 3 in the trash (even though it already is kinda trash, haha). this would take place during the last chapter of TRH 2 and throw the whole vote stuff out the window - because the farther we go with that, the less it makes sense. basically, Auvernal kidnaps the heir, Barthelemy is involved in it, and Liam and MC (i’m keeping her as Riley Brooks for this one) along with the gang do everything they can to get her back (obviously why wouldn’t they). i thought it would be interesting putting a part of it in the heir’s point of view, since those were kinda funny in some of the recent chapters. nothing too dark or serious (i mean yeah the heir getting kidnapped is serious, but you know what i mean. besides that, there are no major trigger warnings)

both these fics will most likely flop, but i had fun with these ideas and wanted to share

so here we go

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The Aftermath - Chapter 32

When Bastien enters, his eyes widen as they rest on Boris. He gives Olivia a look.

“Drake,” she tells him, hoping that would be enough of an answer. Bastien frowns. Olivia didn’t know why Drake had done this either. The fool hadn’t given her any information as to what this man had done. Where was she even supposed to start?

Now she was really wishing she had called Jacob to give her a background check.

“So,” she begins, pacing in front of Boris. Bastien was at full attention, closely watching both of them. “What happened between you and Drake?”

Boris spits blood to the opposite side of the room. It drips down the wall. “Call the bastard in here. Tell him to explain.” His accent is thick and his voice is tried.

I probably should, she thinks to herself.

Bastien gives Olivia another look. She nods at him.

“Let us shift the conversation,” Bastien begins. “Can I ask how long you’ve known Lady Riley or her late husband?”

“How is that important?” Boris questions.

“Just curious.” Bastien’s voice remains level.

Boris sighs, then leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Potter. I met him in college. He introduced me to Riley-”

“I’m sorry,” Bastien interrupts him. “Who is ‘Potter’?”

“The lovely Theodore Blaise.” Boris lets out a rueful chuckle. “You have not seen him in person? The idiot looks like Harry Potter. Stupid glasses, stupid hair.”

“Alright,” Bastien stops him again. “Continue. When did he introduce you to Riley?”

“New York. That one year. I was visiting before I had to go to... Switzerland? Sweden? One of the two. It was lifetime ago. Can’t remember everything.” He pauses to look around the room. “She was... with your King. We saw her in the park. Theo wanted to see her. We waited for the king to leave her before he went up to her hotel.”

Olivia knew that he was talking about the last night Riley had been with the court. But Boris was drawing out the conversation. She didn’t like how slow Bastien was approaching this. Olivia wanted to draw a knife — she had a new one she was itching to use — and force the answers out of him.

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Until the End - Prologue

A/N: also i made a thing for this series. it’s not a moodboard. idk what its called. like a banner or whatever? i felt creative and made it. i’ll probably end up making a moodboard too. there are three parts of the series, each part has seven/eight chapters. anyway this looks kinda wack i might not even use it

As we near the stairs, Olivia Nevrakis chases after Maxwell Beaumont, who tumbles down the steps.

“Why are you running?!” Olivia cries after the boy, a long object in her hand.

“Because you have a stick!” he cries after almost tripping over his short, chubby legs.

“What am I gonna do, hit you with it?”

“YES?!” Maxwell screams, a confused and fearful tone in his voice.

As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, Liam emerges from another corridor, laughing after his friends. His hair is a whorl on his head, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“Hello, Mother!” he says. My son hugs my waist, then reaches to hug his father, but Constantine has already walked on.

I take the boy’s hand and we follow after the King. Near the entrance of the palace stands a man in guard’s uniform, a woman in a denim dress, and two small children.

“Eleanor, Liam,” Constantine begins. “I would like for you two to be introduced to a new member of our security team. Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca, and their children, Drake and Savannah.”

“A pleasure, Your Majesties,” Jackson says as he and his wife bow respectfully. The little girl blinks up at me while Drake looks between Liam and I.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Liam!” My son holds out his hand to Drake.

Constantine audibly coughs. Liam’s hand falls to his side, and his smile falls as well. I knew that the differences in status would not allow Liam to interact with the boy so improperly, but they are just children. I didn’t think there was a reason for such excessive formality.

Bianca slightly nudges her son. In a monotone voice, Drake greets, “Nice to meet you, Prince Liam.”

Liam’s expression lifts. I send a smile in Bianca’s direction, and she hesitantly returns it. Jackson holds eye contact with me a moment longer, a wide grin stretching his face.

Constantine grabs our attention again. “Jackson, you will be primarily working on my wife’s security team. Now if you’ll excuse us, we are expected at dinner. My head of security, Bastien, will lead you through the rest of your orientation. After dinner, you’ll be able to speak to my wife and receive any orders she has for you.”

“Yes, Sire,” Jackson bows his head again, and Constantine leads us away.

Godfrey and his family, along with the Beaumonts, Olivia, and Leo are already seated. They all stand quickly as Constantine comes into the room, giving polite bows.  

The moment we sit, there’s a flurry of activity as the servants set our plates in front of us. Adelaide sips on her wine absently. Annabelle fusses over Maxwell, who has cookie crumbs on his fingers and face. Madeleine attempts to get Leo’s attention, but he laughs with Bertrand, the boys giving each other impish smiles. Olivia converses with Liam, taking on a gentle demeanor compared to how she behaved with Maxwell.

“Hostilities between Monterisso and Auvernal are increasing by the day,” I hear Godfrey mention to Constantine.

“The whole of Europe expects them to break out in war,” Barthelemy adds.

“Monterissian and Auvernese citizens anticipate some sort of peace treaty,” Godfrey continues. The men speak as if they are one unit, with one mind. “But other nations have already begun taking sides.”

“The King of Hidar is siding with Monterisso.” Barthelemy motions for a servant to bring him more wine. “But there are rumors that he is only doing so after receiving threats.”

“Most nations are waiting for Cordonia and Monaco for their decisions for who to ally with.”

When Barthelemy and Godfrey finish filling Constantine’s ears, they return to the food on their plates, staring down as if nothing else in the world concerned them. Constantine chews slowly, visibly considering their words.

“Monterisso has always kept a neutral face when it comes to Cordonian issues,” the King mentions. “They have never asked or hinted towards alliance. They are not many nations who ally with them at all.”

“So you must admit,” Barthelemy finishes chewing, “that allying with them instead of Auvernal makes a bad impression—”

“—and reduces the chance of alliances with other nations,” Godfrey finishes with him.

“How so?” I speak up. The three men turn their heads to look at me. No one else at the table pays attention to the conversation, but as their eyes burn in my direction — aggressive looks from the Dukes, while my husband raises an eyebrow at me — I want to take back my words.

But I do no such thing. After more than seven years of marriage, I had become accustomed to Godfrey and Barthelmey shutting down the advice I gave to my husband. This instance is no different.

✦✧✦✧✦

The Lion and the Heir - short series - Prologue

A/N: just as a heads up, i laughed while writing this. like i wrote this just for a good laugh and wanted to share. my friend sent me a writing prompt about a kid’s wild imagination and she thought it was funny and sent it to me (i sent her this same passage and we both laughed our heads off reading parts of it) so what i’m trying to say is that thinking this is terrible and cringe-worthy is understandable - i cringed at this myself and am very scared to post this lol, and might not even continue it. yes i made a moodboard thing. yes i laughed while making it. goodbye.

"Is everything well, Mommy?" I ask. Instead of answering me, again she attempts to silence me! I repeat my question, but this time the man tells me to silent myself.

Did they not know who they were speaking to? Perhaps I was interrupting something. Was there a lesson to be learned somewhere in this? I wish that Daddy were present at this meeting. Though most of his explanations were gibberish, he would at least attempt to make me understand.

The man walks towards me. He reaches his hands out to carry me, but I do not know this man! And he was quite stinky! I do not like him. I smack his hands away, and he takes a step back.

"With all due respect," I try to explain to him, "please introduce yourself before any forward actions. They are most unwelcoming. Your Princess does not appreciate this behavior."

He turns to my suspicious mother and says something in gibberish. I frown, for the language barrier does not mean that my subjects may disobey my wishes in such a manner!

Suspicious Mommy takes off the shield that was over her eyes. I find that it is NOT Mommy! Though they look similar, their differences are too contrasting. This woman's eyes were a tad sharper. She was too aware of me, and did not seem comfortable in my presence.

"Shhh sh shhh," she goes again, trying to pick me up, but I allow my short legs to fall from under me. My behind hits the mattress, and I feel my friend, General Lion, against my hand.

"Is everything well, Your Highness?" my trusty General says to me. "Is there anything I can do to be of service?"

"Dismiss this woman from my presence!" I command him.

"But... but that is Mommy!" he cries.

This woman was good in her disguise. She had fooled my trusted advisor!

"Believe me, General, it is not!" I tell him. "She has fooled us!"

"And she is trying to take you away?" he observes.

"Yes!" I am suddenly aware of what is happening. The woman begins to reach for me. "Quick!" I say, panic swelling in my chest. I had to do something about this, but all my heart is telling me to do is cry! I have to take more serious measures than that! "What am I to do?"

"Uh... uh..." General Lion looks around the crib, before he reaches out to me. "Take a hold of my paw!"

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putting my Aftermath taglist because that’s the only one i have :) - y’all can see what’s happening in the next chapter & these other fics. if you’re interested in any (besides Aftermath) let me know! if you don’t interact or anything, i’ll leave you on the Aftermath taglist and won’t remove or add you anywhere :)

(also, people probably know this but just a gentle reminder, the only reason i don’t reply to comments is because this is a sideblog. i see them all though, so don’t worry. i just don’t want to confuse people by replying from my main blog or anything :) anyway let me stop trailing off)

@captain-kingliamsqueen​ @gkittylove99​ @lovablegranny​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @mom2000aggie​ @kingliam2019​ @queenrileyrose​ @shanzay44​ @cordonianroyalty​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @twinkle-320​ @amandablink​ @texaskitten30​ @pens-girl-87​ @ladyangel70​ @sanchita012​ @cordonianprincess​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @pink-diamond13​ @queenwalton​​ @yourmajesty09​ @alj4890​​ @choicesbutterfly​​​ 

^if anyone from this list wants to do the WIP Wednesday thing, feel free!!

[skgway]

1823 Aug., Fri. 29

6

10 55/60

Very comfortable bed, and slept well till 5 20/60, at which time it was raining heavily downstairs and in the stable at 7 1/4 everything ready, but it rained so much (began at 3 1/2 they said and was incessant till after 9) I determined to stay breakfast, and set off at 9 or 10 – 

Took upMog’s edition of Patterson’s roads published London 1822. Saw Shibden hall inserted according to the letter I wrote mentioning its situation – Then took up volume 1 Miss Benger’s life of Mary Queen of Scots and read the first 50 pages. 

Sat down to breakfast (boiled milk and hot rolls) at 8 1/2 – It just then occurred to me that the last time I was in this room (the ground floor parlour on the left entering the Bridgewater) was with M– [Mariana] on the night of the 9th of March 1816. 

A host of reflections crowded on me – I felt the tear starting and my heart grow sick. ‘How foolish,’ said I, then sank into the thought that my knowing her had perhaps been the ruin of my health and happiness. She has not the heart to suit me. Perhaps I should not be happy with [her], yet almost foolish, [w/c]ould not be so without. I had almost said, ‘Oh, that I had not a heart,’ but God be merciful to me a sinner, and enable me to fix it. Here alone true joys are to be found. 

How very little π [Mariana] guesses what passes within me. I do not blame her. Heaven has not given her that sweet sensibilit soul of the soul after which my spirit panteth, likes the hart after the water brook and than which nothing less can satisfy a romantic and the enthusiastic mind like mine. To π [Mariana], if I shewed myself more openly I should be an enigma. She could not understand. We have not much fellowship in feeling, yet am I attached to her. Alas, I see more and more plainly, too deeply for my own happiness. 

Were I to tell her the effect of this three step business, she could not comprehend it. She would think it perhaps unforgivingness of temper rather than that wound at heart which festers unseen. It has taught me that tho she loves me, it is without that beautiful romance of sentiment that all my soul desires. But mine are not affections to be returned in this world. Oh that I could turn them with virtuous enthusiasm to that being who gave them. 

O Mary, Mary! You have enticed me with the glimpse of happiness and my heart has pursued the ignis fatuus till retreat is impossible or vain – But no more –

Left Manchester at 9 25/60 (the roads very heavy with the rain) and stopt at the Wellington Inn, Rochdale, at 11 35/60 – Fair the 1st 7 miles but rained the last 4 (of the 11 Manchester to Rochdale) – Went into the stable for a minute or 2, then sat down and mused and wrote all the above of today which took me till 12 3/4 (Shibden). Took a little nap – Had ordered George to let us be off in 2 hours but he was out, and 25 minutes beyond his time, and we were not off till 2 –

From 2 55/60 to 3 1/2 walked, and made George lead Caradoc, from the mound and while rails across the valley (perhaps 1/2 mile on this side of Littlebro’) to the Inn at the top of Blackstone edge – Stopt there 5 minutes and gave Caradoc some oatmeal and water – Then pursued our journey, and got home in 3 3/4 hours at 5 3/4, i.e. just before it struck 6 by the kitchen clock –

It rained pretty smartly all the time we were at Rochdale till about the last 1/2 hour when it cleared up and we had no rain afterwards – A fine evening too – My father and Marian called after tea and staid about an hour –

Told my uncle and aunt Mr. Simmons thought he could cure me, but could answer for it better if I was in Manchester under his own eye for 2 or 3 weeks – My aunt wanted me to give up going to Scarbro’ and York, and go to Manchester immediately – This I, of course, decline, saying I may perhaps be able to do without going to M– [Mariana] at all –

Barometer at changeable or rather above Fahrenheit 57º at 9 p.m. at which hour came up to bed – Put by my things etc. and wrote the last 9 lines of today – 4 letters waited my arrival –

Nothing can be better done than the new road from Littlebro’ to the top of Blackstone edge – From the very foot of the hill to about 100 yards from the Inn at the top are 15 white-painted black-capped stone posts as guides, I suppose, when the road is covered with snow – They were 149 strides apart (supposing them to be as as they look, at equal distances) perhaps these 149 strides might be about 100 yards or not much more –

It was at the 14th stone that I met M– [Mariana] last Tuesday week – This struck me forcibly – I had been thinking of the thing before – Indeed not a day scarcely an hour has passed since it happened, without its occuring to me in 1 shape or other – Oh! that I could forget it altogether – But I know and feel this cannot be – My memory is too obstinate for me –

3 of the letters came yesterday from M– [Mariana] (York); from Miss Vallance (Sittingbourne) and from Radford the Tailor (“ 27 Piccadilly removed from 188 Fleet street London”) the other letter (from Radford acknowledging the receipt of the draft) came this morning –

M– [Mariana]’s letter (2 1/4 pages hurried) written the very day (Wednesday) my letter to her would get to Scarbro’, on which day she seems to have been setting off for that place, having waited to take her father and mother within the carriage Eliza and Lou on the box and the 2 little Whites and her and Watson her servants in a hack chaise – Mrs. B– [Belcombe] seized with Cholera morbus on Sunday “which alarmed us much for a few hours, but it soon subsided”.... “however she is quite well” – Dr. B– [Belcombe] 

“in very low spirits about himself and I really think there is much cause even now to feel alarmed about him – His mind seems to have suffered, and when there is anything to be done he seems quite bewildered” –

M – [Mariana] not quite so well as she was – The moorgame arrived safe on Sunday – Dr. B– [Belcombe] appeared pleased with the attention – M– [Mariana] was to have written on Tuesday “but Bell came over and nothing could be done” –

3 pages crossed and the ends from Miss V– [Vallance] I must write to her very soon – She says my last is dated 14 February –

“Does your remembrance of your confiding friend ever cross your mind? Has her fate ceased to interest? Is her form forgotten? Her faults and sorrows faded from from your heart?” …. 

I must write – She is still in a very bad state of health – Gives a high character of her brother William’s bride – vide the latter 1/2 the crossing of page 2 and the former 1/2 of page 1 vide page 2 

“Memory often carried me to Langton – and recalls our wandering to Birdsall, the wold etc. etc. ...... those steps so well remembered, so fondly recorded in my bosom”.... 

Flll [full] well i remember my style of conversations. Does she too? Is it not evident she will listen again and grant all I ask as before? – At page 3

 “I hope to see Langton at no very distant time and I hope most earnestly to see you there” –

Surely the crossing above referred intelli[gi]bly marks her preference towards me and might warrant my taking gently any liberties I chose. She says, or strongly insinuates, that she and I think and feel more in unison than I suppose. Surely this is no cold water on anything that has passed between us – I have always maintained a lady cannot love sufficiently a second time. It is respecting this she owns my opinion, “founded on a knowledge of human nature in general” but consider herself an exception –

Radford’s 1st letter is to acknowledge the receipt of my 1st…. 

“as our business is conducted solely on the principle of ready money we cannot send goods to strangers in the country without 1st receiving a remittance to amount of ordered goods” … 

Strangers is in the original, strange ladies in the country – Referred to their “order book” and found my measure etc. etc. I could not help laughing –

The 2nd letter a respectful acknowledgment of the draft – The coat to be sent by “the York coach that leaves the Golden and Saturday morning at six” that I am expected to have it early on Sunday morning –

vide line 23 the last page the weather, what kept me up so long etc. – E [two dots, treating venereal complaint] O [one dot, signifying little discharge] A lit[t]le not much –

[sideways in margin] Rochdale

[urdearestmom]

I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.” What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

[bettsfic]

do you have any advice on writing chapter fics? i've been a one-shot writer for a long while now, but i'm feeling ready to branch out! i've found a great outline template, but i'm struggling. i've always written with minimal notes and figured the story out as i went. how do i make this outline tight enough to write and post on a schedule? what sorts of things should i be asking myself as i'm planning it all out?

i wrote a little bit on the topic of short vs. long works here, and a breakdown of my creative process here. 

the two most important things to consider when starting a long fic are:

if it will keep your interest, and

if it is within your means to complete

and by that i mean, finding the range of your ability. i can’t tell you how many times i began big projects that were either not interesting enough to pursue, or too complicated for my discipline and skill level. even now, i have projects i know i won’t be able to tackle for another five or ten years because they require patience and perspective i don’t yet have, and several outlines for projects where the stakes are not yet high enough, and a central element of the conflict is still missing (and i won’t be able to start until i figure out what it is; sometimes this takes years to figure out). i don’t mean this to be discouraging; if you have an idea that compels you, the goal is to plan it out in such a way that it can be completed. that said, the only way i’ve learned anything i’ve learned is by failing, in some way, at nearly everything i’ve attempted. 

conflict is key with long fics, namely building one that cannot be solved in a single chapter, and which is conducive to multiple obstacles and increasing tension. i like to think of a good conflict as one which has both an internal and external component, as in, a character wants something external, and through that journey achieves internal growth. if you’re writing a romance, the external conflict will usually be achieving HEA or HFN, while the internal one is getting to a place where each character is emotionally ready to begin a long-term relationship. 

before i begin a long project, i usually have to tell myself the story over and over and over again until i’m ready to write it, which means i start with a rough list of Things That Have to Happen, then put them in some semblance of 3-act-play order (inciting incident, locking in, rising tension, breaking point, everything goes wrong, everything continues to go wrong, climax, resolution). then i write a narrative outline which breaks the beats into chapters, then a more detailed outline where i break those chapters into scenes. then i break a scene out into what i call a skeleton draft (the bare bones of what needs to happen), then rewrite it as a spaghetti draft (chucking spaghetti at a wall to see what sticks), then the up draft (cleaning up the spaghetti). 

if i’m writing fic, i’d want a spaghetti draft of the entire thing before i begin posting, so i only have to clean up chapter by chapter to post. i say this having made the mistake of not having enough written before posting and then losing motivation. 

ALSO (i can’t believe i almost forgot this), definitely keep an exit strategy in mind before you start writing. if you don’t have an ending, you don’t have anything to work toward. it doesn’t have to be like a specific scene idea, but you should know whether you’re planning to end on HEA or HFN, or some other sort of ending. 

one question that’s important to ask yourself (not just in writing but any creative pursuit and tbh life itself) is “what don’t i know?” it’s always helpful for me to make a list of the things i don’t know and tackle them one by one than constantly aiming for solutions to problems i haven’t articulated. focusing what’s not yet there, for me, is way more helpful than staring at what is there. 

as for posting on a schedule, i recommend giving yourself way, way, way more time than you think you’ll need. if you intend to post on wednesdays, make sure your chapter is ready to go by the thursday before, so you’ll have enough time for random ideas and solutions to pop into your head, and get some space for the chapter before your final read-through. 

lastly, don’t set yourself up for failure, but also don’t be afraid to fail. i know that seems contradictory and also impossible, but opening myself up to “this is not working” has helped me to find creative solutions that i wouldn’t have found if i’d mindlessly barreled ahead. in some cases, i’ve only been able to finish projects when i’d conceded on certain goals i’d set for myself. i’ve only been able to find what works for me by figuring out what doesn’t. i’ve only learned how to assess my skill by overshooting my ambition. 

tl;dr keep an open mind to your process. set up a conflict with stakes high enough to lend themselves to a long-paced resolution. know your ending before you start writing. when stuck, ask yourself what you don’t know. 

best of luck to you!