#if that was their first fic ever...how do some people cope with all that talent?

[cosette141]

Write and Create for Yourself First | thoughts on fanfiction, art and external validation

When it comes to fanfiction, or any creation for that matter, so many people judge their own fics, art and talent by the amount of interaction with it.

I only know because I recently used to be one of them.

For people who seek external validation, if they have a story that has a thousand kudos or notes, they consider it worthy.

But if it has only 2, or god forbid none, then they feel like it wasn’t good or they “wasted their time” writing it. But that’s just not true, and it’s such a hurtful way of thinking about yourself and your own work. It’s only human to feel drawn towards external validation, but it’s your choice whether or not to chase it.

I implore you to think about it a different way, and hopefully make you feel a little better if you are the kind of person who thinks this way. Because in most cases, kudos, likes, comments, interaction—it’s a reflection of exposure, your current following, the luck of an algorithm, the traffic to that specific corner of the internet, or just how niche of a genre you’re creating in.

Not talent.

Think about this: imagine someone you idolize, respect or even envy the talent and success of. It could be a famous musician, author, a fellow fic writer—anyone who is successful and talented.

Now ask yourself: if no one in the world, not one single soul, ever saw any creation this person ever made…

Would it make that person any less talented?

If that famous musician never shared their music with anyone, are they no longer talented? Are they any less worthy of feeling confident in themselves and their work? Should they feel any less about themselves because they don’t have anyone validating their talent and ability?

If your favorite book writer kept their stories to themselves and never shared them, are they any less brilliant?

No.

But society makes it seem like it.

Think about your favorite books or movies or fanfics—(not your own, but someone else’s work that you love)—that don’t have a lot of kudos or likes or engagement. You love this story/creation. It touched you and you can see how incredible it is. Does it matter that the rest of the world doesn’t? Does it make you love it any less? Do you look at the kudos count and then say “Oh, wait, now it isn’t good anymore.” How many times are you commenting on something saying “I can’t believe this doesn’t have more comments/likes/etc!”

Do you realize how many people say that about the fics you’ve written that have little engagement? Even if they don’t tell you, there are people who are thinking it. There are countless posts and comments on tumblr from people who admit they don't comment because they simply are shy or don't know what to say.

External validation is a dangerous hole to fall into. Because the more you reach for it, the more you rely on it, the deeper you fall.

The easiest way to avoid falling into that hole is to look at your creation the moment you’ve created it, and capture the feeling you have right then and there. What does it make you feel? Did it help you cope? Did it make you smile or laugh? Did it make you cry and ease some of your emotional weight? Did you just feel that you created an incredible thing, and that you love it so much?

Someone liking it or not liking it doesn’t change what you feel in that moment.

Sometimes, you just have to wait for your time. Maybe your creation needs a few years and then it’ll get noticed and you’ll be rolling in success.

Does that mean you’re supposed to feel sad and invalidated until that happens?

If you currently have a creation that’s seen some external validation already, what would you tell your past-self who just posted it, and is waiting for engagement, thinking it isn’t good enough until they get some?

Think of all the time you spent sad, waiting for everyone else to change your mind. Think about how much power you’re giving them! Imagine that person whose underappreciated fic you love. If they were sad about it, what would you tell them?

Because sometimes, there are just things that won’t get exposure. There are just tv shows that won’t get picked up or movie deals that fall through and never get made, books that never get published and fics that never get read.

And if that is devastating to you, I ask you why you’re writing them in the first place.

Of course we all want to share our creations and get comments and positive reviews. And they are wonderful and fulfilling and inspiring and motivating! But if they are the only reason you are creating, if you always feel you wasted your time on a story that receives little interaction, you will feel empty so much of the time. You will always be wanting more, because you are focused on the quantity of them. When you are in this mindset, the moment after you finish reading the most heartfelt review you’ve ever gotten... you’re already waiting to get the next one.

But instead, if you create for yourself, if you sit in that moment of creation and you feel incredible about it, just between you and yourself… and you remember that feeling and that fact even after posting it publicly, everything else is just extra. It’s just the cherry on top. If you wrote that story because you needed to get something off your chest and you did, it doesn’t matter what someone else thinks of it.

If you felt incredible when creating art, then that art is incredible.

Hopefully, you are sharing your work with people, rather than writing it for them. Or, more accurately, for their positive feedback and compliments. Comments are sweeter when they aren’t viewed as payment to you or validation, and are instead like a gift to you.

You are always happy with your work if you view it this way.

You are sometimes happy with your work, depending on the actions of other people, if you rely on external validation.

Obviously you can do whatever you want! It’s your life and it’s your creations. But I can at least tell you that you will be a lot happier if you create for yourself first and take everything else as a wonderful surprise addition.

Because as someone who has climbed back out of that external validation hole and saw the sun for the first time in a long time, I can at least tell you that it has been so much happier for me.

.

I wrote an addition to this post to answer this question: How do you write for yourself first when you are making writing a professional career? That post is here!

[damnfandomproblems]

5300 This problem has "I don't understand their point of view" written all over it.

Like someone commented, popularity isn't just all positive stuff. A lot of people don't like the amount of attention they get, and oftentimes while they may like it at first, they start to dislike it, because attention comes with scrutiny. It can be terrifying knowing that people are looking at you a lot closer than everyone else. Ever be in a crowd and all the eyes are on you? It's a similar deal with this kind of thing. Not everyone likes that. Not to mention, people are more quick to find flaws about a person and magnify them just because they happen to be popular, for no other reason. It's fun for a lot of people to "pick on the popular person". And being popular in no way means someone has a thick skin. Most people in fandom become popular because they made A Post That One Time, or they make talented art or fics, or they've done other things that have no bearing on their personality, their ability to cope with bad situations, etc.

You see them answering/getting "kind messages". Do you see the bad ones they never publish, or block so they don't appear on their blog or posts? You see people kissing their ass. Do you know for a fact, through the screen, it doesn't overwhelm them at times? You see them getting a lot of positive feedback, but do you know for a fact their mental health isn't putting them in a position where, in spite of that feedback, it just feels like magnitudes more people lying to them about how great they are?

If someone is complaining, it's for a reason, and while I know some people "attention bait" by posting certain manipulative styles of comments, that isn't the case with most people who complain about popularity. There are actual, legitimate reasons that it sucks and I'm grossed out by how ignorant this comment comes off, at least at face value.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[simpingcowboy]

If It Wasn't For The Nights

Pairing: just Marcus Moreno missing his wife, no reader/no pairing

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: ANGST! Themes of grief, fear of loss, feelings of parental inadequacy, widowing, some negative self talk and self-consciousness, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Summary: Marcus could deal with the passing of his wife...if it wasn't for the nights.

A/N: Me writing another grief themed Moreno fic...who would have guessed. March brings us the first angsty fic for my Year of ABBA! Part of the incredible Year of Creations @yearofcreation2023 !

Please heed the warnings and know that this does not have a particularly positive ending! <3

The day began as most, Marcus Moreno waking up bright and early. Lances of light piercing through the soft eggshell curtains. Cloaked in the warmth of day, he begins pacing himself through his extensive morning routine. Wake up. Shower. Make the bed. Wake up Missy. Start the coffee. Turn on the news. Cook breakfast. Check his itinerary. Get dressed. Drop Missy off at school. Before finally, starting his work day at the Heroics headquarters. Beginning a long day of appointments. Meeting with military personnel, government officials, city council, press, HR, the heroics themselves, anyone and everyone who requested a word with him. Accompanied by an even longer day of work. Paperwork, strategy plans, team analyses, weapon development, public statements, heroic training, taking on extra work when asked by teammates. All with the same goal. To keep him busy all the day through. To keep himself from thinking of her.

But as the sun sank down into the sky, so too did Marcus’s resolve.

The first pang of the day followed lunch. With the sun high overhead, Marcus heads out to join the team on the training field. The Heroic’s training regime was strict. Personally adapted to each heroic and their individual skill set. Everyday focused on a different element of their talents. Though Marcus was exempt from fighting, he still chose to partake in the exercises. Always setting an example for the rest of the team. And for a moment, everything feels right. It feels normal. Training on the field with his fellow heroics, basking in the thrill of a fight. Glowing with pride to be a part of the most elite team on the planet, just to be reminded that Marcus Moreno doesn’t fight.

Everyone believed it was for Missy. A promise he made to her so she'd not have to lose another parent so young. But Missy would have never asked had Marcus not said it first. She was too brave. Too bold. Too much like her mother to discourage him from fighting. But Marcus had asked her, with a silent plea that she would say yes. Beg him not to fight. To hang up his katanas like he so wished to do, but was too prideful to admit on his own. Thankfully for Marcus, Missy said yes.

He recalls that first battle after his wife died. His hands, his lifelong companions, had shook with uncertainty. Mind, ever clear and focused, was riddled with fear. No move he made was steady. No direction he gave confident. They’d barely cleared the mission. And all Marcus could think of, was how much more disastrous it could have been if the threat was worse. He imagined losing them. All of them. His friends. Coworkers. People he’d known since he was a child. Losing them to his own cowardice and fear. And if it wasn’t for the nights of lonesome terror, maybe he'd even have strength left to fight alongside his fellow heroics. Instead of being resigned to coaching from the sidelines.

It only worsened after that. Shadows befell the office. Stretching longer and growing darker with the passing hours. A restlessness consuming Marcus, like a great pit in his stomach. Motivating him to fill the time with more and more work. Busy busy Moreno. Who began his days slow and steady, but was a frantic workaholic by day's end. He got jumpy. Temperamental at times. Snapping at anyone who interrupts his work flow. Anyone who makes him think. And it was obvious to everyone who had known him before, Marcus was not alright. But somehow, he thinks, he’d be doing alright if it wasn’t for the nights.

Much to Marcus’s dismay, the day does end. Twilight flitters on the horizon. The crowd of workers in the Heroics headquarters slowly disappear, as if they’d been devoured by the dusk. As the final reminder to leave rings on Marcus’s phone, he too must succumb to the setting sun. After closing up the various tabs on his computer, he heads out the door. The drive is quiet. Just Marcus and his mind locked in a standoff. A contest of wills. Thoughts of her blurring the edges of his vision. Appearing faintly, like the pale light of the moon barely visible in the sky. But there’s still a light, He reasons. Hanging low in the sky, and reflecting off the moon. She’s there too. Missy.

Marcus breaths out a heavy sigh of relief as he breaches the doorway, a familiar laughter is heard from the living room. Missy lounges across the warm suede couch, scrolling through her phone. And suddenly the world is a little lighter. They chat- briefly before he goes upstairs to change out of his work clothes. Both clothes and briefcase haphazardly find their way to the floor. A bad habit he was never fully broken of. He returns downstairs and gets to prepping dinner. Missy sits up at the kitchen island, ignoring the pile of homework in front of her in favor of chatting Marcus’s ear off. All of which he listens to attentively. Basking in the light of her youth. Letting her block out the bitter darkness that infiltrates their home.

Dinner comes and goes. Marcus serves up a mediocre meal. And though it's burnt around the edges and woefully seasoned, Missy still finds a way to compliment him on it where she can. Relishing in the way the corners of Marcus's mouth turn up into a smile when she does. And though she doesn't remember much of what he was like before, she likes to think that in these moments she gets a glimpse at who he used to be. A look at the man her mother married.

A rush of sorrow hits Marcus, as Missy is all too quick to ask to be excused. Bounding from the table up to her room. The tween years came too quickly for his liking. Too large a distance had grown between them. They were still close, but she grew more independent by the day. His pride and joy. Everyday he was reminded that the light of his life, Missy, would never need him as much as he needed her. And if it wasn’t for the nights, even he could take it.

But there’s no one to turn to. No one who would understand. He was not prepared for something like this. The loneliness of being a widow. The difficulty that comes with raising a teenage girl on his own. He sees them all so clearly, all his mistakes. His pitiful failures to be everything Missy needs. And he feels so bad. At the end of the long hallway, the door to her bedroom shuts, drowning the hall in darkness. A terrible panging guilt filling Marcus’s chest as he tirelessly scrubs away at the dishes. He never did get the hang of cooking. Even on his best tries, a portion of his attempt always makes its way into the trash. Cooking was her specialty. The once sweet aromas of his wife’s cooking, were now displaced by the bitter scent of his subpar meals. Just one of many inadequacies he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for. Just one of a million things he misses about her. As he flees the empty kitchen and turns out the light, It feels as if he’s never gonna make it.

Moreno saunters up the stairs. Doing his best to ignore the still hanging photos of his wife on the wall; lest he remain there staring at them til morning. His breath is heavy as his hands land on the knob of his bedroom door. The final pang of his long day was about to incur as it always did when he saw the wide empty bed awaiting him. With his last ounce of bravery, Marcus turns the knob, throwing the door wide open. Fresh linen sheets greet him. Suddenly looking much rattier than he ever recalls them looking in the morning. Moonlight dusts the empty room through the cool toned curtains. The moon itself hangs just in view, taunting his loneliness.

He had work to help him through the day. People he had to write to. Bills he had to pay. A child to care for. But everythings so different when night finally came. Robbing him of the solace of day. Freeing him of the distractions. Bringing him to that precious time of day he’d have just for her. When he’d wrap her in his arms and fawn over her. Spend hours getting lost in each other. Talking about their days. Their dreams. Their memories. All of which is now lost to time. The heavyweight of remembrance pins him to the bed and leaves him staring at the wall. Marcus Moreno shuts his eyes and tries to ease his agony.

His job…

The Heroics…

His friends…

Missy…

Maybe he could take it. Maybe he’d make it...

Yes, even he could see a light, if it wasn’t for the nights.

Marcus even guesses that his future would look bright…

If it wasn’t for the nights.

[liquorisce]

it makes me so angry and sad that you’ve dealt with so much negativity to where you’ve had to close your inbox to anons and even to the point where you feel discouraged from creating.

as someone who’s only fairly recently discovered aot, fics, and this community- the only thing i feel is GRATITUDE for those who create for the rest of us who don’t have the talent or ability to do so but love the anime just the same. it may sound silly but you and so many other creators have helped me cope with not just the anime ending but provided an escapism to my real life problems.

your work is so, so wonderful and i’ve reread all of them multiple times. it truly goes past the point of wanting more eremika or aot and just appreciating your abilities as a writer and storyteller. also insane respect for contributing to the fandom for 10 years!!!!

and to anyone reading that’s ever had a different view on how the characters are portrayed, root for different ships, or simply just don’t enjoy whatever was created- that’s okay. what’s NOT okay is verbalizing it in a negative, hateful way. let’s all remember that the work shared are out of the GENEROSITY of our creators. their time and efforts are used to create things for our enjoyment at no cost to us. there are tags for a reason, you don’t like it close the tab. and if you can’t do that, if you feel so strongly that you need to leave hate, please seek help because that is extremely weirdo behavior. these are real people with real feelings, remember that.

(genuinely tho if you feel the need to hate, especially anonymously, you need to touch grass and experience the real world. i cannot emphasize how embarrassing and nasty it is to act like that.)

i know I took a while answering this, I just wanted some space from this platform... but i really treasure your constant support and kind words (i know this isn't the first time) <3 please know that I read it many many times and felt a lot of comfort that there are people out there who actually GET IT and get me.

i think i dont have much more to say on the weirdness that exists in this fandom... that is not just about anonymous harassment and hate but also just an extremely judgy vibe that exists in common spaces where certain kinds of fiction and tropes are judged to be superior than others and its just exhausting! i simply am out of energy to engage with this sort of thing so my presence on social media will reduce drastically soon :)

anyway that said: fuck the haters!!! im very excited about all the cool fic that was written for the Amour zine, very kinky very eremika very hot!!! istg its like they were all written for me <3

[firesofdainix]

If your still in the ninjago fandom, do you have any good ninjago fic recs for people?

I don't read Ninjago fic nowadays, but here's the recommendation post I made over a year ago lol:

Ninjago fic rec

However, since I am ALSO a narcissistic individual, here are some of the fics I wrote that I found myself liking.

[it's under the cut lol]

memories drowning in the ocean

A 10k word one-shot made after the first part of Crystallized aired. Somewhat divergent from canon in which there's a gap in Nya's memories and she has to cope with that.

spectral

15k word one-shot, College AU all about Kai and Cole. Kai moves into the big city and rents the cheapest dorm ever, disregarding the warning it was haunted. Soon he finds himself falling for Cole, who isn't who he seems.

and the earth buries the dead.

12k word on-shot where Cole still survives the Oni invasion of Season 10, but getting exposed to the darkness gave him a chronic illness, dying months later.

lloyd garmadon discovers the Ninja's inability to bargain with vendors

A 6k word one-shot set in Season 1. Lloyd discovers how the ninjas biggest weakness is the marketplace, and how scary Kai could be.

green and gold

A 3k one-shot set in a Pre-Canon time, during Wu's training regime on Morro. He accidentally injured himself from overtraining and Wu, being the father that he is, takes care of him.

lloyd garmadon makes kai smith cry on his birthday

8k words, set in Season 1 or 2. Lloyd resolves to give Kai his own birthday present, and as the title says there are some emotions shed over this gift.

paternity

4k one-shot set during Season 9. A teenager Wu with muddled memories reflects upon his relationship with one of his guardians.

Then I'll Settle For A Ghost

84k, 31 chapters complete in the occasion of Morrotober. All collection of prompts are here.

Way of the Devil Hunters

31k words, 3 chapters and incomplete. Surrounds a world where elements of Chainsaw Man and Ninjago are combined. Follows Kai and Nya, who, after being ambushed, the latter gains devil powers, putting them in the eyes of Wu and Garmadon. They are joined by different devil hunters as well, as they uncover one truth at a time.

The God of Destruction's Wingman (is his brother)

30k words and 2 chapters complete. Pre-Canon AU where Wu isn't the other man and instead is Garmadon's matchmaker, pairing him up with the sassy, snarky and feisty historian he met.

The Astute Guide of Morro's Journey Through Redemption

113k words, 8 chapters and incomplete. Deals with Morro seeking redemption without the ninjas meddling, and traveling all across Ninjago. He comes across a nice family, and he starts to reflect on the damage he's done in the world. Aka my magnum opus.

this gruelling cycle

A telephone wip fic I made with a few other talented authors. I wrote the first part, and it was supposed to have been discontinued. Anyways, Kai and Nya's life before Wu came.

PHOENIX.

52k words, 3 over 5 chapters posted hence incomplete. A DC x Ninjago AU where Ninjago is set in a darker universe and Garmadon is a lot more evil than usual. He kills Kai to fracture the ninja Force, and six years later a new vigilante is out for Garmadon's blood.

[cactusspatz]

April recs

In a shocking turn of events, I'm posting my recs EARLY this month instead of procrastinating! May the Fourth be with you!

About half the stories in this set are Star Wars, because I finally watched Andor and it was AMAZING; the other half are DCU, because I am predictable when sick (Tim + Batfamily h/c my beloved). Plus a Leverage/Old Guard crossover!

STAR WARS

To Climb by Nock_and_Bolt

“Climb,” Kino urged others to escape a prison he never would.

“Climb!” Nemik screamed past multicolored explosions and his own crushed spine.

“Climb!” K-2SO’s voice juddered out over the intercom, punched from mechanical lungs by blaster fire.

And what else could Cassian do but be borne up by the bodies of those that had gone before him?

Brutally good, full of the parallels and motifs in from Andor, all woven into Cassian's final climb in the tower at Scarif. It WILL make you cry in the best way.

Coping Mechanisms by mosylu (Cassian/Jyn)

It takes a heat wave for Jyn to notice that Cassian never, ever goes barefoot.

Intimate and sweet if-they-had-lived look at Cassian's trauma from the Narkina 5 prison.

Kino Lives by ad_asterism

Set at the end of Andor Episode 10: "One Way Out". Kino fucking gets to live.

Look, a girl has needs, and those needs include reading every single Kino fix-it for Episode 10 on AO3. This was my favorite by far, I think maybe because it *doesn't* involve Cassian? The episode ending was the right ending for that arc in Cassian's story, but this fic picks up the thematic threads and weaves them into off a very Star Wars escape for Kino. It could use some more love - possibly the very basic title and summary kept people away - so don't forget to comment!

No Survivors by elwenyere (Cassian/Melshi)

It had been three standard years, two months, and twenty-five days since Melshi had made himself walk away from the man he’d known as Keef Girgo.

Great mid-mission reunion for Cassian and Melshi, their slowly growing attachment and exploration of Cassian's trauma are beautifully written, and the plot starts to poke at the roots of Rogue One.

Personal Effects by mosylu

Spies travel light. Even so, Cassian Andor left things behind.

A neatly drawn outsider-POV character study, as the Rebels clear out the belongings of the Death Star's dead. This fic's older, but felt very matched in tone with Andor.

A Proud, Unpleasant Sort of Man by angel_deux (Han/Leia, Cassian/Jyn)

It takes Cassian Andor and Han Solo an embarrassingly long time to realize that they aren't each other's rivals.

Funny and sweet post-Rogue One everybody-lives AU.

DCU

Inscribed on Body & Soul by drowningfire

Jason Todd died knowing he was loved. His resurrection took even that from him. Turns out he came back to life needing saving just as much as he did when he left it. Thankfully the Bats and Birds have always specialised in impossible rescues. And while love can't fix everything having proof of it can't hurt.

AKA In a world where the names of those who love you inscribe themselves upon your skin, Jason's resurrection plays out a little differently.

Lovely platonic soulmates AU with lots of feelings and angst for everyone in the family, just the way I like it.

of crime lords and literature by adelfie

Gloved fingers close over Tim’s throat and slowly begin to squeeze.

“Jason!” he gasps, choking. “Have you ever read Macbeth?”

The Red Hood stares at him like Tim just slapped him with a fish.

With his grades slipping, Tim worries Bruce will take Robin away. So when the Red Hood breaks into his room with the intent to kill him, Tim decides it's a good idea to ask him for help on his English homework. It works. And then it doesn't. And then Tim solves a mystery and almost dies anyway.

The summary makes this sound kinda cracky but I actually loved the plot. (Tim, how is your life just SO disaster? It's really a talent.)

Little Red and the Big Bad Hood by CrzyFun

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone.

Then Hood had shown up on the scene.

Charming AU with tons of identity porn as Jason grudgingly big-brother-adopts genderfluid Tim while he's undercover.

For the Sick and Dying by GoAwayOlivia

It’s been a while since Jason has felt this bad. He’s used to being bruised and aching, used to broken bones and lacerations of all sizes and depths, but it’s been a hell of a long time since he’s been sick, and he’d honestly forgotten how much it sucks. His family isn't exactly helping matters.

In which Jason is hilariously dramatic about being sick. I enjoyed the hell out of this while actually sick, but I think the appeal is universal.

The last (but certainly not least) story I have for you is a delightful Leverage/The Old Guard crossover, which was the funniest thing I read all month.

The Fountain of Youth Job by BazinMousqueton

The Leverage: Redemption team are hired to investigate Merrick Pharmaceuticals following a suspicious death in South Sudan. They embark on a con, infiltrate Merrick’s HQ… and find some unexpected prisoners in his research lab.

This one is more accessible for Leverage-only fans than TOG-only fans, I think, but it has a pitch-perfect grasp on the Leverage crew (Redemption era) and a great con setup - which gets partially and hilariously derailed when they find Joe and Nicky.

[access--granted]

Apologies for keeping this nonsense going, you must be exhausted, so I'm clarifying before I speak - delete this ask if you don't want to address this topic anymore.

Anyway, to offer a different perspective, I have personal substance issues. Life's been lifeing and I eventually turned to not-so-healthy coping mechanisms over the last few months. Fan fiction about this is my safe way of exploring my feelings about it. This widespread assumption that I need a handheld, sugar coated portrayal to cope is offensive. Shying away from difficult topics is censorship. Period. And it is a big issue because it carries a massive real-world impact on those who use fiction to escape. The same cowards criticising you will bang on and on about "representation in media", but won't note their hypocrisy.

I'm not a baby, I don't need the teletubbies to show up and remind everyone that Leon is flawless and a hug willl fix him. The fact that there's a new age approach that hails this crap as gospel, is more dangerous and harmful than one might think. I know it's stupid, but I am utterly fuming on your behalf.

That fic was the first gently thought out, yet brutally realistic piece I've found in AGES (this isn't pressure to repost!!). The fact you were bullied into believing you did something immoral just... it fucking irritates me to no end. I am so tired of this huge scream for censorship, I'm tired. Just don't engage if it triggers you, it's that easy. The rest of us adults have every right to explore darker aspects through fiction because it is SAFE. It's safe and it helps people. Talented writing is a life skill. It truly is. (Also on an amusing note: if they think me exploring his drinking habits is sinful, I would he sent straight to prison for the smut I read, lmfao!)

I'll end it by saying THANK YOU for the effort that you made. If it's better for your mental health not to post about that specific thing anymore, then please don't, but damn I'm not leaving without saying thank you for that honest portrayal of how addiction and alcohol dependency harms people and how it feels for everyone involved. You've got a talent and your empathy is very noticeable. Fuck these puriteens, lmao.

You have nothing to apologise for, anon. I'm certainly not going to shy away from talking about specific topics on my blog just because other people don't know how to ignore content they dislike. I already made the mistake of letting a bully get to me during a low point, resulting in the deletion of a piece I was both proud of and that had all-around mostly positive feedback anyway. I still appreciate your concern, though.

I completely understand that life has been lifeing, as it has been for me, too. I wrote that piece because I want my fics to be inclusive to a more widespread audience so that more people can relate. There's a lot of happily ever after fic out there, even some that completely ignore the struggles that happen in real life, too. So, I thought I'd write something different. I'm all for fluff, smut, romance, etc. But there is so much content for that already. I wanted to, and will continue to, add mature content to my writing, but not in the sense that it's always about getting Leon naked and doing the devil's tango with him.

I'd like to say also that it's not at all stupid for you to be fuming about this; I certainly am, and even more so for letting asshats get to me.

I'm happy that my representation of the issue was well thought out and realistic in your eyes. The thing I was most nervous about, to begin with, was getting things right. While I've never dealt with it personally, I had a very close friend who went through this, and many people left them behind. I will be reposting the fic at some point. I was proud of that work, and nobody will spoil it for me or anyone else who finds some kind of solace in reading it. (Also, same - like, why is exploring real-life struggles so outrageous, yet reading a crap ton of smut isn't? None of it should be a problem for people to explore.)

This topic is in no way detrimental to my mental health. I was just down in the dumps for personal reasons at the time anyway, lmao. Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm touched you think I have talent as a writer, and as a colossal empath, I'm glad it's clear to see.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Hey, love! I hope you’re doing okay <3

Soo, I saw your latest post featuring the poll to help gauge whether your readers want there to be a post-outbreak act in “Elementary” and I hope you don’t mind that I wanted to throw my two cents into it — or rather just kind of explain my (irrelevant) thoughts on it since I voted one way but truthfully feel both.

First and foremost, I think it’s so important for you to know that you’re a truly remarkable writer. Like I don’t think you understand the actual extent of the impact you make on people with your writing. Your stories have real meaning; you have so much meaning — honestly, more than you could ever even imagine. Your level of masterful creativity, your flawless skill, your ability to really touch your readers through the beautiful use of words… well, all I can say is that it’s unbelievably inspiring and something you should be proud of. No matter what, please do not ever ever ever overlook or doubt that — even more so, please don’t ever let anyone else, regardless of who they are, tear down you or your innate talent at bringing stories to life.

The thing is that for me I’m so conflicted about this because I love the idea of this creative twist (and the fact that it’d only make this fic longer considering I can never quite get enough of it), but ultimately… I’m just not entirely sure if I would be able to handle the angst that would come in this act. Please don’t get me wrong, I do love angst and never shy away from it when looking for a good fic to read. But this story in particular… god. It’s indescribably special. Like I’m talking about every single detail of this story — down to the story’s very essence — is so deeply and rawly and extraordinarily special to such an unfathomable extreme. The beautiful family dynamic you created between Joel, Reader, and Sarah (+ Tommy) is so precious and absolutely wholesome — it has the power to leave permanent beaming smile on faces and literally cure hearts and souls. It’s something I want to hold onto and just never let go because it makes me feel a kind of happiness and comfort that deeply touches me to my very core. It’s rare to find a story with that affect, and it’s even more rare to find a story with that affect in the world of TLOU. The show itself holds so much angst and, of course, that angst follows into its fanfiction. Which is fine! We all love some damn good angst. But on the other hand… I don’t know. This story is like finding a relieving and so immensely satisfying breath of fresh air. I guess it’s just been nice to finally read a fic that takes place before the outbreak and shows the kind of life Joel could’ve had — the life Joel could’ve had with Reader (and Sarah 😢). It’s nice to have this comfort story that’s full of love and family and regular real life struggles (like Joel doing his very best to be a single dad or Reader dealing with problematic coworkers or annoying students) and support and just so full of feelings of all kinds. A fic that’s full of all things good. There’s just a special beauty to it, which is one of the reasons why I fell in love with it in the first place. And while I’m sure the fic would be just as good if you did the post-outbreak because you’re that outstanding of a writer… I’m afraid it’ll lose that beauty (especially since I know for me the cute, happy butterflies I feel while reading this story will end up being replaced with knots of anxiety… lol). I’m even more so afraid Joel and Reader will lose the magical beauty of their wholesome relationship post-outbreak or at the very least have it tainted because, again for me, the mere idea of Joel and Reader being romantically separated to the point where he is with Tess or literally anyone else but Reader after all they had been through and built together (even if Joel is only doing it because that’s how he is coping with trauma, etc.) just actually really freaking breaks my heart to pieces in a way that just… just really chokes me up. I don’t know 😔

I promise this message was never meant to be negative in any way — you’re one of my favorite writers who has helped me through my darkest times with your writing, believe it or not. Plus, you’re a really damn amazing human being so there’s that too. I hope this message didn’t hurt or disappoint or damper or hinder or deter you (or literally anything of the such) even in the slightest because that truly wasn’t my intention at all. I genuinely want you to make whatever decision you feel is best and ultimately what you want to do since this is your story, and writers should write for themselves first before anyone else. I know at the end of the day I could always just not read whatever I’m personally not comfortable with, which is why I’d never wish to ever stop you from following your creativity. And the truth is, I love and respect and trust you enough that I would still follow the journey of this story even if you chose to do the post-outbreak act. I just chose to send this message to explain why I — or possibly anyone else, although ultimately I can only speak for myself — may have voted against the post-outbreak idea. It’s not personal against you or your creativity; it’s just… the lightness and domestic feel to this story has really been like no other, especially with the way it’s personally helped heal in ways I can’t even begin to explain.

So, now that I completely rambled far too much and started to hate on myself for even ever putting you through this… 😭😭 I am so sorry for this and just desperately hope this brought some clarity in a good way, or at the very least didn’t cause you any harm since that’s absolutely priority. I’m wishing you all the best and more than anything to know you’re very appreciated and valued and supported beyond what any words can express 🫶🏻

hi sweet anon!!!

first of all, thank you so much for being so fucking sweet and kind and my god you’ve just warmed my heart so much. thank you for taking the time out to not only say the sweetest fucking shit i’ve ever heard but also to give me your thoughts and opinions in a KIND way. it means so much to me to hear what this story has meant to you, and honestly made me tear up reading that my silly little writing was able to help you through a dark time because i only write because it’s what helps me through my major depression/bipolar episodes/anxiety. to get to bring that same comfort to you is just…fucking incredible and i could cry right now just thinking about it. i love you so much. 🤍

secondly, i see your points and i’ve decided to not write the second act. elementary will remain a tender little moment in time.

[kirayaykimura]

[thedummysdummy]

Hi ! I really love your writing you have an incredible talent 😊 can you please if you have time write an angst fic about mc being dead (victor couldn't save her) but she left their kids with him and how victor would cope while taking care of his kid etc.. if you don't to it's ok hope you are well !

Thank you so much! I'm so flattered by your kind words ;-; I've written this piece for you, and I hope that it hits the mark. <3

Left Behind

It came on the most normal of days. The sky seemed to have some sort of premonition; it wept softly over the landscape and made Loveland slick. 

The girl hurried across the street toward her office, clutching an umbrella in one hand and her cell phone in the other. “Cleo has ballet tonight at 6, and Little Vic needs to be at soccer practice by 7. I don’t know if I’ll be home before 10, so can you take the kids? I can send Kiki again if I have to, but they prefer when Daddy takes them.” 

She pressed the send button and paused to slip the phone back into her bag. It was such a pause that sealed the events of the day: A driver, late for his shift and driving erratically, saw the woman standing in the center of the street and slammed on his brakes. Under normal circumstances the tires would have gripped the road sufficiently to stop the impending collision, but the rain-slicked road spat the car forward and directly into the girl who looked up just milliseconds too late. 

People gasped and began to scream as tendrils of red began their cautious journey away from the prone form of the girl and into the surrounding water. The driver jumped from his car and rushed to her side, his phone already in hand. 

The crowd closed in as sirens could be heard in the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each passing moment. People parted as the first responders began their work, and police officers pushed the crowd back and moved them along. Little by little the rubberneckers went back to their own business, taking their murmuring with them and leaving behind the splash of raindrops hitting the sodden earth. 

~~~

Victor was halfway to his father’s house to pick up his children when his phone began to ring. For a moment he considered letting it go to voicemail, but with thoughts of the girl calling to make some sort of request he pulled over to the side of the road and glanced at the screen. It displayed an unknown yet local number, so he pressed ‘answer’ and held the phone to his ear. “This is Victor.” 

A look of confusion preceded a look of abject horror as the deep voice on the phone imparted its message. Victor slammed the car into drive and began speeding down the road, still holding the phone to his ear. “Loveland University hospital? Yes, I am on my way. Anything is authorized regardless of cost.” He hung up quickly and dialed his father, feeling his hands beginning to shake as the news penetrated his emotional core. 

“Hello Victor! Almost here? The kids are all packed up, so it shouldn’t be as much of an ordeal to get them to leave as usual.” Mr. Li’s voice was cheerful and bright, with the joyful sound of Cleo and Little Vic in the background. The contrast to Victor’s own mood was so sharp that he felt his breath catch in his throat for a moment. 

He cleared away the snag and slid his portcullis back into place, trapping the ever-increasing emotions deep within his walls. “Dad, I’m going to need you to watch the kids tonight. There’s been an accident and I am on my way to the hospital.” 

Mr. Li’s face drop could be heard loud and clear. “Is everything alright, Victor? I can get your aunt over here to watch the kids and accompany you to the hospital?” 

“I don’t know. But that’s unnecessary. I can handle this on my own.” Victor depressed the gas pedal farther and the engine roared in response. The tires slid just a little as they struggled to gain purchase on the slick road, but they eventually caught and lurched Victor in his seat. 

“You don’t always have to do things alone, Victor. I thought your wife had managed to drill that into your head by this point! Which hospital? Loveland University or Regional? I’ll get your aunt over here and meet you as soon as I can.” 

Rather than the annoyance he had expected to feel, Victor actually felt a warmth in his chest and sourness in his nose. “University,” he croaked, voice breaking just slightly. He quickly cleared his throat and wiped his face with his sleeve, frustrated at himself for losing his cool. 

But Mr. Li’s comforting voice held no judgment on the other end of the line. “Alright. I’ll be there soon. You drive safely, okay? I know how you are when you get worried. Remember that the roads are slick and you cannot drive like you’re the only person on the road!” 

Victor grunted in acknowledgement and allowed the phone to fall to his lap. With both white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, he sped through the streets of Loveland city toward the hospital where his entire universe held on by a thread. He managed to keep himself together, though his breaths came raggedly as he fought the storm rising inside. 

By the time Victor pushed his way into the emergency room lobby, he brought with him a full hurricane. He gave his name at the desk and was whisked away to a waiting room, more private and quiet than the general admission lobby. “Please take a seat, Mr. Li. Your wife is in surgery right now, but the doctor will be with you as soon as possible.” 

He made no move to sit, but the nurse left him there without any further conversation. Victor paced back and forth across the room, a panther trapped in a cage far too small. The ticking of the clock on the wall mocked him with its deliberately slow passage of time. Only his blood pounding in his ears competed with the clock for the attention of his eardrums. With each passing moment he became more and more tempted to go searching for his wife despite knowing it would do him no good.

The arrival of the doctor was a tender mercy at the end of the rope. He rubbed his bald head and tapped the clipboard against his leg. “Mr. Li, I’m afraid it isn’t good news. We have done everything we can, but I cannot guarantee our work will change the outcome. Mrs. Li has been moved to a private room where you can stay with her for the night, if you will follow me?” 

Victor nodded and walked just a half step behind the doctor, the man’s words rolling around in his brain like rocks in a tumbler. They chipped and crumbled as they grated against each other, their sharpness digging into his psyche painfully. He wanted to urge the doctor to run, feeling his own feet itching to move faster toward the other half of his soul. 

She looked surprisingly well. Victor blew past the doctor into the room and clutched his wife’s hand, finding it cold to the touch despite her exposed face looking only a little pale. “I’m here, my love,” he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips and exhaling his hot breath gently over her fingers. Her eyes did not open, but he could see her chest slowly rising and falling. 

“The anesthetic hasn’t completely worn off yet, but there’s also no guarantee she’s going to wake up. The car hit her going nearly twice the speed limit and the internal damage is severe. Do you have children? You might consider bringing them to say goodbye, just in case.” The doctor gave Victor an apologetic look and took a step backwards toward the door. “I’ll leave you with her. If anything changes with her breathing or heart rate, the machines will alert the nurses.” 

Victor gave the doctor a nod, though his eyes remained trained on the gentle curves of his wife’s face. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to run the side of his finger gently down her cheek, pausing at her chin before cupping her head in his palm. “Dummy, I told you I won’t always be there to save you if you don’t pay attention crossing the road,” he chastised, his voice muffled with pain more than sharp with anger. “How many times have I saved you from exactly this fate? I should have been there…I should have driven you to work this morning and dropped you off at the door! The useless meeting this morning was not worth this!” 

Each word rose one notch in volume, until he came as close to shouting as the man ever came. She did not react. Victor’s shoulders shuddered and he pulled out his phone, hands shaking as he hovered over the redial button. Mentally he did his best to form the words, but without enough confidence he could say them, he instead sent a text message. Things are bad, Dad. If you aren’t too far, please go back and fetch the children. Or have Auntie bring them.

He allowed the phone to fall to the bed and again took her hand in both of his own, his head drooping until his forehead rested on her fingers. “If there’s a God listening…Please. Take me instead! She is good and pure and far more deserving of a long life than me! Our children need her…I need her.” His teeth gritted tightly and Victor pinched his eyes shut, refusing to release any of the sharp liquid that threatened to escape their corners. 

The phone buzzed, but he made no move to pick it up. 

Little had changed by the time Mr. Li entered the hospital room. Victor still held his wife’s hand to his forehead and seemed not to even notice his father stepping through the door. Mr. Li placed an inquiring hand on his son’s shoulder, still eliciting little more than a grunt of acknowledgement. “You didn’t reply to my message so I don’t know if you saw it, but your aunt will be here with the kids in a few minutes.” 

Again Victor grunted. His father sighed and dropped into a chair next to Victor, resting his hand on the girl’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, son.”

~~~

A full week had passed since the funeral. No one in the house had touched the dinner in front of them, despite Victor preparing each of his children’s favorite dishes. “You both should hurry up and finish your dinner. We need to leave for ballet and soccer practice soon.” 

Little Vic looked up from his plate where he had been pushing his mashed potatoes around with a spoon. “You haven’t eaten yours either, Dad,” he grumbled, eyes as dark as those he had inherited from. “Besides. I don’t feel like going to practice.” 

“I don’t want to go either,” Cleo piped in, setting down her fork and scowling. “I don’t like ballet anymore. I just want to go to bed.” 

Victor sighed and set his own utensils down as well. “Come, now. Your mother would not want the pair of you to be unprepared for the recital and the game. She also would not want you to give up the things you are striving for.” The kids sighed as well and stared down their meals as if digesting their father’s words. 

“Are you going to use that argument every time we don’t want to do something?” Little Vic asked, scowling at his father. “It seems a little underhanded to me.” 

Dark eyes settled on the fifteen year old, their irises heavy and weary. “It’s not an argument. It’s the truth. Your mother has always been your biggest cheerleader, both of you. And you both inherited her stubbornness, so I know we can all get through this together. Can we start by trying to make today as normal as possible?”

Both of the kids kept their eyes downcast for a long moment before nodding. Victor gave an inward sigh of relief and rose from his chair. “Why don’t the pair of you go get ready to leave? I’ll pack up dinner and you can eat later.”  The pair nodded and slowly disappeared into their rooms, leaving Victor alone at the table. He pressed both palms into the wood and bowed his head, shaking it slowly. I’ll hold things together for you, my dummy. I’ll raise our children for you. And when I join you…I will have no regrets.

[howlinchickhowl]

Heya Howl 💟 for fanfic ask 👀💯 ✨ 😭?

Hey Myn! Thank you for asking I would love to recommend some fictions to you! And anyone else who asks 😊

👀 A fic that you love a normal amount

Grow Some Guts! And really everything that @sunoficarus writes, but this one is so simple and perfectly formed, it gives you everything you need in such a short space of time and it's so unusual and if you are wondering whether or not magical AUs are for you, this is the perfect primer. To me it is perfect,

Also, I was just thinking about you outshined the best there was earlier and feeling totally normal and not at all unhinged about Mickey just wanting to be holding his daughter at all times and being an amazing loving dad and how his voice in that fic is just so spot on achingly perfect that I can't cope. So, there's that!

💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals

ah jeez dude. so many things. One of the amazing things about being a part of this community is that there is so. much. talent. it's absolutely wild. we are lousy with incredible writers here.

Thicker Than Forget was one of the first fics in this fandom I remember reading and thinking oh boy, imagine being able to write like that?

I think Tender Hearts and Other Maladies (wip) is incredible writing that I aspire to being capable of.

But genuinely I envy so many writers on a thrice daily basis, it's actually incredible that I ever post anything.

EDITED because I completely forgot my first answer to this was gonna be the Becoming duology by @arrowflier, which fucks me up so hard and is absolutely GOALS. If you haven't read it, you should!

✨ A fic you wish you could read again for the first time

Like Real People Do I have never in my entire fic reading life felt the way I felt while i was reading this for the first time. If I could have it back I would. I love it now and re-read it often, but if I got the opportunity to erase it from my memory just so that I could relive that soft quiet gasp inducing heart-stopping romance for the first time again? Give me the pill! I'll do it!

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

Where You End & I Begin cut my heart out with a rusty spoon it would hurt less than this. I remember full out bawling during parts of this. just straight up ugly crying in the absolute best way. If you need a little catharsis right now, this is exactly the thing.

Honourable mention to forever favourite Broad Shouldered Beasts which I think I recced last year when I got this question, but which has me in floods no matter how many times I read it. Genuinely gut-wrenchingly brilliant.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Hi💜 so I’m a new writer that’s just starting out, I was wondering if you had any tips? Also I love your work sm💜💜

this is so sweet! thank u so much angel, writing is different for everybody but i'm happy to share some of my views and tricks etc! probably going to ramble a lot so i'll add a read more tab ~

every fic needs a beginning middle n an end, so i would plan these before you start writing it so you know where the story is heading and have a clear guideline of what you need to follow

make notes of random plot / sub-plot points you want to include and keep referring to the list when you're writing! this is really helpful for me

not every character needs a trauma or a problematic opinion, tension is great in fics i 100% agree but it needs to be relevant to the overall story telling and shouldn't be random (especially with angst, writing arguments is great but make sure the characters will think back to the arguments be it to learn from it or for more tension further down the line etc)

don't get disheartened if somebody doesn't like something you've written - it happens to all of us / take negative feedback with a pinch of salt! feedback is feedback and it can be a wonderful tool to improve ur skills but don't get hung up on people's opinions too much

write what YOU want to write. as long as ur passionate about the characters / storylines etc the right demographic will find u eventually

TAGS TAGS TAGS TAG EVERYTHING ITS HOW PPL FIND UR WORK!!!

there are networks u can join too!!

don't overwork yourself. write however much you can when YOU want to!!

have fun with it. get creative. make worlds that leave readers wanting more! if u have a vision in your head for what you want to write stick with it and don't let anybody sway you into telling a different story!

don't fixate on notes / lack of feedback. it can be disheartening but i assure you a persons number of notes / followers do not directly influence their talent. some of the best writers on here have less than 500 followers and get barely any notes (which is sad, i agree :( but try not to let numbers affect how you feel about your work) also block hate anons because fuck them and their venom, not worth your time at all!

don't compare yourself to others. everybody starts somewhere!!!

write things you're passionate about, things you have experience in or things you want to spread awareness about

if you're going to be a ff writer even though readers *know* who you're writing about don't skip over their physical descriptions as they're still an important part of ff!

when it comes to plot planning try and think of niche or never seen before plots! we all love a good friends to lovers trope but make yours stand out. everybody is writing something similar these days in terms of tropes and au's so add a sprinkle of ***flavour*** to yours that makes it stand out and more memorable to readers

but MOST IMPORTANTLY!!!! remember that your blog is yours and you can do and you can write whatever you want to! the world is yours so show it what you've got. for me writing ff is a coping mechanism and also high-key a form of escapism, if you get stressed writing then don't force it honey. you should enjoy writing and if there's ever a point where you don't then you need to take a break. this is ur blog. these are ur fics. don't let anybody tell u any differently.

GOOD LUCK!!!!!!! I HOPE IVE KINDA HELPED SORRY JUST WENT ON A BIG RAMBLE LOL. IF U WANT MORE SPECIFIC ADVICE PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ASK IM ALWAYS HAPPY TO HELP!!!!

sending u so much love and positive energy cause i remember how nervous i was when i first started out!!! you've got this, show us what you're made of!!

[lannisterdaddyissues]

For the fandom asks, M!

(Also I will not be butthurt at all if you don’t say me because if you don’t, that’s another artist I can find and follow!)

@faeratil @madrielite @downton-not-downtown-smh tysm for the asks!!! <3

B - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind oooh tbh i wasnt super into robert/cora until i found some of the cobert blogs on here and they convinced me to read cobert fic. and it was sooooo good honestly so many talented people in this fandom!!! <3

E - Have you added anything stupid/cracky/hilarious to your fandom, if so, what lol yes, i have a whole tag for all the stupid tlk memes i made and then i made this meme thread for major on my anime sideblog bc im literally obsessed and had to cope with my trauma

H - Do you prefer characters from real action series or anime series ooh this is such a hard one, but i love anime so it's gotta be anime.

M - Your favorite fanart or fanartist man this is really hard because i have a lot of them?? but i think my favorite tumblr artists are oekaki-chan, ikimaru and tinymintywolf! i really love their works and they are lovely people! (i DO love your art though! <3)

N - Your favorite fanfiction or fanauthor oooh this is even harder!! anyway shamelessly gonna promo @f-ro-g whos amazing and @tonyamariestark who has amazing writing! i love her fic so much. my favorite fic of all time is probably this one, i really love the author's headcanons and it fits seamlessly with the source material!! my only regret is that it has remained a wip for years

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon omg i have SO many personal headcanons for major you don't even know. first off one of my fav hcs is that goro listens to white noise when he sleeps at night bc he cant fall asleep without it. i also think junior can sing an impeccable falsetto and he has the most trashy teenage white girl music taste ever its so cringe but he doesnt care. and you can catch these hands with the headcanon that momoko does dance and she would actually be really good at baseball if she ever played!!! lastly i have a whole fucking list of headcanons about gibson bc hes so important to me but some of the highlights are: 1) hes objectively a terrible driver but ironically loves driving fancy cars and wrecks one every 6 months 2) hes actually a pretty decent cook bc he had to teach himself how to cook after laura died and 3) he was drunk for his own wedding ill die on that hill

X - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms OOOOOOOH this is a tough one i have so many!!! but i think my top 3 have to be braime (got), wrightworth (pwaa), and mary/matthew (downton abbey) bc im obsessed

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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

“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[ruewrites]

Raising Them Right

AO3

WBT

Ships: Diavolo/Lucifer (minor near the end)

Word Count: 3960

Warnings: Abandonement, Self Deprication

A/N:  Here it is! So this is the second fic that was inspired from the one angst anon that wanted to know more about Asmo’s past relationships. I really had a wonderful time writing it, and I hope you guys enjoy!

Lucifer could still remember that day. It was clear in his mind and bit at him like a viper, slowly killing a part of him that was now long lost to time. He knew that Levi and Mammon remembered as well. Maybe Satan. But Asmo and the twins? Not so much. Regardless, he knew it had toyed with his brothers in various ways. Forcing different insecurities and means to cope down their throats. Honestly Lucifer didn’t even get away unscathed. 

Hurt and betrayal had bubbled up in his throat as he tore their room apart. Part of him was looking for an answer of sorts. A reason. But the bigger of him wanted destruction, wanted to erase them from their lives entirely. They chose to leave, so why should they have any memory of them? 

Lilith’s room was left untouched. Lucifer boarded up the door the best he could. This made his heart ache the most. He couldn’t focus too hard on what he was doing. It wouldn’t lead to good things. He needed to keep a steady composure for his brothers. They needed someone to look up to. Someone they could rely on. 

They had all packed up and left that night. The oldest three couldn’t bear to be in the house anymore. Satan hadn’t said anything, conflict swirling within his young mind. Asmo and the twins questioned their actions slightly.

“What if they come back looking for us?”

“Are we gonna go home soon Luci?”

“What if they miss us?”

It made the situation worse. It made Lucifer’s throat tighten and his eyes burn. How could he tell them that they weren’t even going back? That that place was no longer home? That they’d been abandoned? That was how Lucifer saw it, and he could feel that Mammon was just as bitter. His teeth were clenched, trying so hard not to snap at the little ones. They didn’t know any better, and Lucifer wished he could have protected them all from this reality. 

He was helpless.

They’d travelled around for a while, until they found a small motel with a vacancy. The older three had done the math. If they worked enough, they could stay here.. He wasn’t sure who called about them, but he wasn’t surprised. Who wouldn’t have been worried about seven children of varying ages wandering around alone on their own? Honestly, it was the responsible thing to do. Even if Lucifer hated admitting to it.

Ever since that day, Lucifer fought tooth and nail for his family. He refused to let anyone take his brothers away from him, refused to let them be torn apart any more than they already were. He’d heard everything. He was too young to effectively take care of them, that the little ones would be better off in more stable households. These conversations only succeeded in making Lucifer angrier. Eventually they reached a compromise. All seven of them would move in with a family, until further notice. 

Lucifer had agreed to this, but also took it as a challenge to get them their own place as soon as he could.

***********

Lucifer had gotten the call. He put himself down as the primary contact for all of his brothers, so he always knew what was going on with them. 

Deep breaths. In. And out. 

Getting angry at Mammon rarely got him anywhere. It was just frustrating. Mammon was smart  dammit! And he was a good kid deep down. Lucifer knew this, and it made it even worse every time he heard that Mammon had acted out once more. Lucifer had apologized to his professor multiple times about not being able to show up to class, and they understood, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

Lucifer got out of the car and started the routine he’d become so accustomed too. What could it be today? Acting out in class? Snatching something off of the teacher’s desk? Stealing from the cafeteria? Oh Lucifer could only imagine.

Greeting the ladies at the front desk, Lucifer was quickly ushered back to the principal's office. Mammon was hunched over in one of the chair’s, his hoodie obscuring his face.

Suspended.

For getting into a fight with another student.

It wasn’t  a long suspension, but Lucifer still didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. There was a tense silence in the car.It got to the point where Lucifer pulled off into a parking lot and shut his car off. Mammon sank down further in the car seat.

“Would you like to explain yourself?” Lucifer hoped his voice came out even, despite the twitching he felt in his lip. 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“It wasn’t- Mammon you got suspended.”

More silence.

“Let me see.”

“Luc-”

“Let. Me. See.”

Mammon hesitated for a moment before pulling his hoodie down and looking over at Lucifer. He had a black eye. Lucifer put his head in his hands and Mammon quickly went on to try to explain himself.

“It wasn’t my fault! These guys came along n’ they were makin fun of Levi and were tryin to take his-”

“Levi?”

Lucifer’s head perked up as he looked at Mammon. His frustration slowly melted away as he listened to his brother with new interest.

“Yeah! These guys are normally jerks, but then they started goin at our family, and messing with Levi really bad.”

Lucifer was silent for a moment before starting the car. He was quiet for a few moments before speaking up, “Is there anything you want?”

“What?”

“You know I don’t reward bad behavior Mammon,” Lucifer started, “But I don’t think I consider what you did today bad behavior.”

Mammon blinked a few times before snorting, “You sound like a dad.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Aight aight…. Thanks Lucifer. I’ll think about it.”

***********

Levi had always loved his games, and he was good at them. The time he spent on them honestly had Lucifer concerned for his eyes. They made Levi happy and Lucifer could usually hear him talking about the lore behind them or the characters when he wasn’t talking about his favorite shows or manga.

Lucifer didn't understand any of it, he didn’t pretend to. Usually he couldn’t stop the confusion that spread across his face. Understanding what Levi was trying to understand quantum physics. But Levi didn’t seem to mind, he would continue to talk, excitement rising with each word that passed through his lips. Honestly, Lucifer was fine with anything that made him happy.

As long as his brothers were happy and safe, that was all that mattered.

So when he heard sniffling from Levi’s room, Lucifer couldn’t help but investigate. The door was open ever so slightly. He peeked his head in first, eyes scanning the room and settling on a pile of blankets in the center.

He walked closer and sat down on the bed and let the silence permeate for a moment.

“Levi,” he said softly, the sniffling stopped for a moment, “Why are you crying?”

Levi didn’t say a word. Lucifer didn’t move.

“I’m not gonna do anything or amount to anything,” Levi sniffled, “I’m not good at anything. My interests are weird. I’m  just taking up space and… and-”

And Dad said so.

The unspoken words lingered like a bitter perfume in the air. Lucifer knew their father had most likely said such things to Levi, he knew that he’d probably said more to Levi and the idea made Lucifer’s blood boil. Just because his brother had interests that their parents hadn’t deemed worthwhile, it didn’t  mean that it made them any less important nor did it define his worth in any way. 

Yet the words of their abandoners still ran hot through Levi’s veins, and the idea of his own self worth suffered. 

It was despicable.

Deplorable.

“Who told you this Levi?” Lucifer asked.

The pile of blankets went quiet for a moment, “Just people…”

“Well they’re wrong,” Lucifer said, pulling the blanket down from Levi’s head, “You have plenty of talents and you have a place in this family.”

He picked up one of the controllers around them. The plastic felt awkward in his hands, and the buttons were foreign to him. Levi hadn’t moved, so Lucifer went to the next thing he could think of.

“I’d like it if you could teach me how to play.”

***********

After countless hours of research on cats, Lucifer finally made a decision. Satan had difficulties when it came to being calm. He surrounded himself with teas, and books, and music, but every now and again something (or someone) would ruin the atmosphere he worked so hard to create. Lucifer wanted to help him, he wanted him to find some sort of peace and maybe a cat was just what was needed.

Satan loved cats. Ever since he’d been young he’d had an affinity for them. Lucifer used to catch him setting out scraps for the strays outside of their old house, and maybe on more than one occasion Lucifer had left out said scraps for Satan to find. 

Cerberus was good with other animals, he’d seen the dog around cats and Lucifer didn’t think there’d be any problem with having another pet in the house. Satan was responsible and a wonderful student.  Lucifer wanted to help him and wanted to see him succeed.

“Where are we going?” Satan asked, crawling into the passenger seat. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The look in his brothers eyes when he realized where they pulled up  to was one Lucifer swore he’d never forget. He asked him not to run as they got out of the car, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. He knew every cat in the shelter would be coming home with them if Satan could have his way, but they would be settling on one.

“Lucifer?”

Satan was staring into one of the pens. A small grey kitten with bright green eyes stared back. Needles to say, the soft bundle made the trip home with them. Lucifer swore that the calmest he’d ever seen Satan was when he was with that cat. He became a happier child and took care of her all on his own. His laughter filled the halls of the home more often, and it was contagious. Lucifer enjoyed seeing Satan smile, and he hoped the world would continue to allow him to have this type of happiness.

***********

Clothing stores had become a second home for the Morningstars. Lucifer swore the clothes he bought for his brothers never fit past the mall dressing rooms. Every other week he was bringing one or two of his brothers for shirts, or pants, or shoes, or some other article of clothing. Today it was him and Asmodeus.

Lucifer pushed the cart down the thin aisle glancing at the various clothes on either side of them with Asmo hot on his heels. However, the closer they got to the usual section the further and further Asmo lagged behind. It wasn’t until Lucifer was in front of the button ups that he realized his younger brother was no longer close behind him. Panic seized him for a moment, thinking he’d lost one of his siblings, but soon he spotted Asmo a few aisles down looking off at something.

“Asmo. Don’t wander off,” Lucifer said, as he approached him. The closer he got to Asmo, the better he could see what he was looking at. 

Pretty bows, flower clips, other sparkling hair pieces, skirts, loose fitting sweaters. Lucifer took a moment, looking over all of the different clothes, before realizing how nervous Asmo looked. Normally he was talkative and bubbly, but right now he was uncharacteristically silent and avoiding Lucifer’s eyes.

His brother had always liked pretty things. He loved picking flowers and having Lucifer catch butterflies for him to look at. He loved to watch the way sparkling dresses twirled in the movies they watched together and looking at the makeup on models on posters in the mall. Lucifer noticed these things, Lucifer knew these things about his brother, but Asmodeus didn’t know that Lucifer knew.  Asmo was worried, and unfortunately Lucifer thought he knew why. 

His brothers deserved to feel safe, to be happy, and even if they’d had a rough beginning, Lucifer wanted to make sure the rest of their stories led to a happy ending.

Lucifer leaned against the cart and offered a smile, “Well, pick out some things to try on.” 

Asmo perked up, looking shocked before a wide grin spread across his face. He put multiple outfits together from various sections and filled the cart. Lucifer honestly hoped they’d last him a while and that he wouldn’t outgrow them as soon as they got home. Asmo’s excitement was contagious.

Later that night, when he dropped him off at Solomon’s, Asmo tore out of the car, excited to show his friend his new clothes, hair clip sparkling in the sunlight.

***********

“Is dinner ready yet?”

Lucifer sighed and put the knife down next to the vegetables he was chopping. Beel had an appetite unlike any he’d come across before.  Doctors had said that he was probably going through a growth spurt and that he was likely going to be tall. A growing boy needed food, and Beel was far from a picky eater.

“Not yet.”

It was the same answer he’d given a few minutes ago.

Beel’s stomach echoed through the small kitchen as Lucifer picked up the knife once more. As he chopped away, his younger brother inched closer until his little eyes were peaking over the counter. A small hand reached out to steal a carrot piece from the counter. It wasn’t sneaky, Lucifer saw, but it didn’t matter.

Beel watched Lucifer in silence for a while, eyes wide and tracing every movement his older brother made.

“Lucifer?”

“Hm?”

“If I help you with dinner will it be done faster?”

The chopping stopped once more as Lucifer thought for a moment. Of course he could let Beel help. He didn’t want him using the knife, but this could still be a good opportunity to learn.  Slowly he nodded and looked towards the vegetables he’d already cut. 

“See those right there? Could you put those into the pot for me? I have another pot on the stove filled with water if you’d like to watch it warm up. When it’s boiling we can put the noodles in,” he said.

Beel’s grin widened and he nodded quickly, almost tripping over himself to help.

“And make sure you wash your hands, and be careful with the stove!”

Dinner had been quite lively that night. Beel chattered on and on about how he’d helped Lucifer with dinner, which led to some of the other younger ones wanting to learn so they could cook what they wanted. Lucifer chuckled quietly to himself. He knew he’d have to teach the rest of them eventually, but he never thought that he’d have a little cooking class on his hands.

***********

Finals had Lucifer stressed. He was running off of at least thirty-six shots of espresso split between six separate cups of coffee. Sleep seemed like a distant and fond memory to him, something he hadn’t experienced in a long while. He almost didn’t pick up on the sounds of small feet slowly padding against the floorboards of the house.

“Lucifer?”

The voice startled him, and he almost spilled one of his cups of coffee that had long gone cold. He swore softly before turning around. The soft glow of his laptop had been the only light source illuminating the room, and it took his eyes a while to adjust. Belphie stood in the doorway, pillow in one hand and his blanket trailing behind him. 

“Don’t tell the others, but,” Belphie was hesitant, his eyes swept to the floor, pink flooding his cheeks, “I had a really bad nightmare, and I can’t fall back asleep.”

Lucifer sat up a bit and tilted his head, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about it?”

Belphie started to shake his head, then he hesitated. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head again. “No,” he said, “But can I stay out here with you? But don’t-”

“Tell anyone? Of course I won’t, but you’re welcome to stay,” he yawned, scooting over ever so slightly to make room on the couch. He could feel his brother hesitate for a moment before wandering over to lay down. Minutes ticked by, and it wasn’t long until Belphie’s eyes shut once more and his small body slowly rose and fell

The more peace he could bring his brothers the better. Even at the slightest disturbance of sleep, Lucifer would smooth back Belphie’s hair in an attempt to calm him. Nightmares had become a common thing after what happened for a lot of them, and that meant Lucifer became alright when dealing with them.

He wasn’t going to leave them ever.

*********

Had he made the right decision? Or had his own pride made him so stupid as to make the worst mistake of his brothers’ lives? Should he have let them be taken by other families, potentially more stable families, and just set up dates to meet? Had he been selfish in his decisions?

These thoughts often plagued Lucifer when he was alone with his own thoughts. He thought about the problems his brothers faced and part of him felt responsible. He felt responsible for their fears, their problems, their worries. Everything bad that afflicted them could potentially be his fault. 

Mammon’s rebellious behavior.

Levi’s self deprecation.

Satan’s frustrations.

Asmo’s issues with his image.

Beel’s misplaced guilt.

Belphie’s angst.

Maybe he thought he could do more for them than he was actually capable of.

Maybe he’d been wrong.

**********

“Lucifer!”

Lucifer’s eyes glanced up from his paperwork to look at Diavolo from across the desk. He’d had piles of paperwork today, it felt like more than usual. There’d also been an influx in clients. New hires would definitely be needed soon. Perhaps he could have a meeting with Diavolo and Barbatos about it. 

“It’s time to clock out!” he said, bright and chipper as usual, “I was wondering if I could walk you home?”

Lucifer sighed and put down his pen. Diavolo was a good man and Lucifer did love him, but sometimes Lucifer felt like he took his work a little less seriously than he did.

Or maybe Lucifer was a little too strict. 

“That isn’t exactly necessary, besides, I have some things I need to finish up before I head home.”

“Nuh uh!” Diavolo clicked his tongue and shook his head, “The last time I let you stay past close to work, you were still here when I got back in the morning! It’s time to clock out. I’ll even help you where I can tomorrow!”

If he could stay on task when Lucifer needed him to. But Diavolo was a good man to work with, and he had proven himself time and time again. So Lucifer really shouldn’t worry himself all too much…

With a sigh of defeat Lucifer stood from his seat, each vertebrae in his spine cracking as he did so. He’d sat longer than he intended to…  “Alright, you win,” he said, “Just let me organize my work.”

Barbatos was waiting for them by the doors of the firm, keys in hand. Diavolo’s hand was pressed firmly against Lucifer’s back as he chattered away excitedly. It brought a soft smile to Lucifer’s face as he nodded to Barbatos. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how routine it had become for the three of them to walk home together. They were two of the closest friends Lucifer had ever had. After all, taking care of his brothers hadn’t left much room for socializing.

He knew Diavolo walking him home would also require him staying to talk for a little bit. Lucifer was already thinking of the variety of teas he could make for the two of them to relax with. His home wasn’t ideal, considering his brothers could be nosey when it came to his relationship, but if it made Diavolo happy it would suffice.

“Thank you,” he said as Diavolo opened the door for him, “Now-”

His sentence was cut short. No sooner had he walked into the kitchen and turned the lights on than confetti streamers went off, and a chorus of ‘surprise!’ surrounded him. 

His brothers were all there, standing with wide smiles and eager faces. In the center of it all was a cake: “Congrats on One Year!”

Diavolo was behind him again, guiding a stunned Lucifer into the room. His hand squeezed his shoulder, excitement coursing through his veins. 

“You haven’t forgotten have you?” Barbatos hummed, “The firm has been around for a year now. Your brothers wanted to congratulate you and asked us both to help.”

Ah. That’s right. This is why Barbatos was their secretary. The man knew how to keep track of the passage of time. 

Seeing that their brother was still in shock, Beel decided to speak up, “We wanted to let you know how proud we are of you.”

“Despite everything you’ve had to do and all the odds stacked against you, you still did it!” Asmo chirped in.

“And you did it while still raising all of us,” Satan smiled.

“Even when we could be the biggest pains in the ass,” Mammon said.

Levi turned to look at him, “Hey, stop talking about yourself Mammon.” 

“Oi!”

“Nah, he’s right, we can all be annoying,” Belphie snorted, “Well, you guys anyways.”

Despite his brother’s bickering, Lucifer’s smile had found its way back on to his face, “Thank you… All of you.”

“Well, why stand here when we have a cake to eat?” Diavolo chuckled, “Come on now Lucifer, let’s take a seat. Ha! That rhymed. Look at me being a poet!”

As Lucifer sat down with the others, he couldn’t help but look over all of his brothers. They’d all grown into such fine young men with bright futures. They were laughing, and happy, and together… They’d had their rough patches and a rather depressing beginning, but now they had a bright future ahead of them. Maybe Lucifer did make the right decision and maybe he’d been too hard on himself at times.

Despite every terrible thing that had happened they’d made it. They’d all beat the odds. As he sat there with his family he looked each of them over.

Confident and boisterous Mammon, who enjoyed drawing in attention.

Passionate Levi, who loved his hobbies more fervently than anyone Lucifer had ever met before.

Intelligent and calculating Satan, who’d always be hungry for knowledge.

Sweet little Asmo, who wore his heart on his sleeve and could spot beauty in anyone.

Gentle giant Beel, who was so compassionate and was always sensitive to the needs of others.

And a mellow Belphie, who knew how to appreciate the little things in life.

Lucifer was proud of them. No. Pride couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling spreading throughout his chest. This feeling was so much more intense. They were all so happy together, and Lucifer wouldn’t give this up for the world.

Their parents would never understand what a grievous mistake they’d made. Lucifer would never understand their reasoning, and he would never make excuses for them.

Lucifer had one thing they’d never have: the love of his brothers.

They would never have the satisfaction of seeing them be successful in life, and Lucifer would make sure they were successful and happy.

Even if Lucifer hadn’t been perfect, he knew he raised them right.

He knew they’d have bright and happy futures.

[angstblanket1]

Dear Yuletide Writer 2023,

Thank you for writing for me or considering writing for me! Treats are enabled. Some fandoms/prompts may be more lengthy than others or different from last year- please try not to read too much into it. This is a product of many factors, but not my enthusiasm! I will be thrilled by a gift for any of these fandoms, whether you’re inspired by what I write here or whether I get to read a take on these fandoms completely different than anything I would have thought of myself!

General likes:

things that experiment with the possibilities of the medium! Whether the gradual realization of the framing device in The Strange Case of Starship Iris, or The Bletchley Circle and The Queen’s Gambit turning internal thought processes into something that is focused on (creatively, gorgeously, in a way that builds tension) instead of invisible. So for fic, anything that plays with the (change in) medium is super exciting to me- from 5+1 to epistolary to Interactive Fiction to whatever weird formatting you want to experiment with.

Using that to bring us inside the uniqueness of a character’s though process

characters or authors showing off their specialized knowledge or overanalysis for absolutely any topic

worldbuilding

bittersweet

angst

forced to make difficult choices that have no get-out-of-jail-free, best-of-both-worlds escape hatch

loyalty- against all odds, or attempted loyalty that just isn’t enough

self-sacrifice

characters who enjoy being around each other (in their own idiosyncratic way)

Relationships that are non-monogamous, shifting, complex, difficult to define, involve competing needs, require negotiation, that are platonic yet extremely important to the people involved in them, that revolve around shared interests, that are extremely strong

characters who are messed up, abrasive, solitary, and/or super smart

making yourself better

making the world better

teamwork

team as family

The Bletchley Circle- Any (Jean McBrian, Lucy Davis, Millie Harcourt, Susan Gray)

Why I love it: Smart ladies! Who specialize in math! Well-defined characters with different strengths and ways of coping with a sexist society! Beautiful cinematography! Depicting internal thought processes is a challenge for visual mediums, so I love how the show depicts it as non-instantaneous, challenging, and also gorgeous. Teamwork!

Other notes: My gift may feature any characters from the tag set

Feel free to draw from the San Francisco spinoff too, if you’ve seen it (I have).

DNW: PWP (explicit content fine, but not as the sole focus), gore (canon-typical crimes fine, just not detailed descriptions of injuries), character bashing (characters can be products of their time and have the universal trait of thinking of themselves first without being 1-dimensional antagonists)

Fic ideas: I’d love a fic focusing on any combination of 1, 2, 3, or 4 of these ladies, as a character study, friendship and/or romantic and/or sexual relationship. Some ideas:

A character’s relationship to her skills, talents, the work she does.

Bletchley era: snapshot of the work they’re doing.

Bletchley era: what kinds of relationships are going on, when they’re able to visit each other more freely?

Bletchley era: did they ever meet Joan Clarke, or Alan Turing?

Millie seems to take Susan’s decision to get married instead of travelling the world very personally. Were they in a relationship at Bletchley? What happened?

How did Susan end up deciding to marry Timothy? Does she decide to put more effort into repairing her marriage, or not? Does she succeed? Feel free to diverge before their decision to move away, or to elaborate on it.

The Queen's Gambit- Beth Harmon

Why I love it: It keeps enough of the troubled genius trope to be fun for those of us who enjoy it, while deconstructing it enough to improve on it. She's a girl! Which impacts her story without being central to it! Her character struggles are a mix of inherent and a result of her experiences! She's talented, but does better when she admits she has to practice the parts that are less fun to her! And also when she learns to accept help! And she not only realizes drugs and madness are extraneous to her success, she does even better without them!

Other notes: My gift must feature all of my chosen character tags; or it may use exceptions I explain in the form: I have listed prompts for the backstories of Alma, Annette, and Alice Harmon- if you want to focus on one of these characters, using my prompt or not, I don’t expect Beth to also be a main focus.

The extent of my chess knowledge is the basic rules and a vague idea of the tournament system. Trust me, I will not know if you are fudging the details.

DNW: PWP (explicit content fine, but not as the sole focus), gore, character bashing, Beth/Borgov

Fic ideas:

tell me more about Annette Packer, that other girl at her first tournament? It must take a different type of courage to play against guys because you want to and should be allowed to and you’re just as good as them, instead of being able to prove that you’re superior.

tell me more about Alma? It sounds like she was also very good at something (piano), and that she had to give it up, and that that cost her.

Alice Harmon is clearly also a talented woman who's been through some stuff. What made her into the person we see?

was being banned from playing chess the extent of her punishment for the pill incident? How did she cope?

Beth clearly spends a lot of time alone reading chess books, while Jolene clearly has other friends to fill her time… what makes their bond special compared to the other girls at the orphanage?

Beth and Mr. Shaibel are both very much not people people; I adore their special friendship. Maybe fill in some gaps about their thoughts during their fight? Why didn't Beth pay back the $10?

for her chess friends/sometimes-lovers, I love domesticity, bonding over the shared love of the game, and the messiness of hurting each other without meaning to. More in-between moments of studying? Post canon or in an AU, does one of the canon pairings make it work? Or does Beth have more messy, complicated relationships like the young adult she is?

It’s a shame Beth’s one same-sex encounter directly preceded a disastrous game, but hey, she’s perfectly capable of making bad decisions without encouragement. I’d like to see Beth spending more time in Paris or globetrotting with Cleo, having a fun but dysfunctional time getting involved in her polyamorous bohemian lifestyle- if you can make it a function of these particular characters in this particular time of their lives rather than an inherently dysfunctional choice, even better.

Now that Beth is at the top of the chess world at barely 20… what does she do next? How does she stay sober? Or does she fall off the wagon a few more times?

This canon is ripe for a 5+1 or something with different character’s perspectives on themes like gender, chess, genius, and/or madness. Don’t worry, I won’t be put of if you go hard on stuff like this.

Just doing something fun with formatting to show us inside her head!

I saw a suggestion that characters and events could be metaphors for chess pieces or moves, and: yes, please! Don't worry, I'm not a lit professor or a chess player, I'll eat up whatever halfway plausible ideas you come up with.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris- Arkady Patel, Sana Tripathi, Violet Liu

Why I love it: Complex characters! Who are super important to each other! And who work together! On the work of making the universe a better place! With great world building about what differences there would and wouldn't be between different civilizations! Linguistics is key to unravelling the plot multiple times!

Other notes: My gift must feature one or more of my chosen character tags (giver's choice)- I'd equally enjoy a fic about the whole S1 gang, or any subset!

DNW: PWP (explicit content fine, but not as the sole focus), gore, character bashing

Fic ideas: 

Everyone has such tantalizing backstories- I want all the details.

More cultural comparisons. Do the humans learn about a Dwarnian culture different from Krejjh’s? Does the nanobot swarm struggle to understand the concept? What's the story behind fish bullying?

Arkady- being gruff and not touchy-feely, getting embarrassed with Violet

Sana- The stress of feeling responsible for everyone, does she find other “comfort out there”? Arkady/Sana/Violet?

Violet- fighting through the fear, getting embarrassed with Arkady

Brian- How did he get from grad student to criminal underworld? What else does he uncover about aliens through linguistics?

Krejjh- cultural differences/similarities, being cute with Brian

How did Arkady & Sana become best friends?

Just the crew hanging out and enjoying each others' company. Maybe they solve a manageable problem, or celebrate a 22nd century holiday.

Alternately, putting them in dangerous situations where they have to worry about each other and protect each other.