#it's got a skeleton outline now

[ameiniateria]

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Clay | Dream/TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza, Clay | Dream/Luke | Punz, Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream, Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude Characters: Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Luke | Punz, Alexis | Quackity, DreamXD (Dream SMP), Nightmare (Dream SMP) Additional Tags: Inspired by Apollo and Daphne (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Pandora's Vault Prison, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Rape/Non-con, dream/tommy -- doesn't actually happen, but is thought about in some detail, Anarchist Syndicate on Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Owes Clay | Dream a Favor (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Has Piglin Instincts (Video Blogging RPF), Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Stalking, Sleep Deprivation, Consensual Possession, mostly - Freeform, Extended Metaphors, Flashbacks, Lowercase, only in flashbacks dw i know what i'm doing, Recovery, Rape Recovery, dream is fighting it tooth and nail, but goddamnit he will get better, eventually, Bad Ending, with that being said Summary:

"with a right hand placed on the / trunk feels that her heart still trembles under the new bark, / and having embraced the branches as limbs with his own arms / he gives the wood kisses, and the wood shrinks from the kisses."

- Daphne and Apollo (Ovid's Metamorphoses)

After a decade (more or less) abandoned in Pandora's Vault, completely alone, Dream escapes with the help of a god and a demon, hellbent on getting revenge on his server for what they did to him. But things are far from simple, as he barters with both them and his own broken body for more time alive -- and only get harder when he calls in a favor with an old friend.

Because his Warden is hunting him.

Only one two  question (s)  remains: how long can he keep this up?

And is he really still in control?

------

Next chapter of HeartBark is out! This one was fun haha

[sugrhigh]

HALLOWEEN - ( m.s )

summary- you help your best friend matt with his makeup on halloween

warnings- none it’s cutie fluff

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: here’s a short little fluff piece i wrote a minute ago to hold you guys over for a bit!! more to come soon i promise

@fawnchives @l9vesick @junnniiieee07 @wurlibydominicfike @mazzystar111 @sturnlova @mattswrld @blueeyedbesson @urmommysbathroom @idkwhatthisevenislol

“will you quit shifting around? you’re messing me up.”

you’re so focused on getting his makeup perfect, and he won’t stop fidgeting, which doesn’t help. your bare knees press against his black jeans as you both sit criss-cross on his bed.

you're already in your costume, which is just a more adult version of dorothy, blue checkered dress and all.

“i’m not even moving!” matt protests, squinting one eye open to look at you.

“don’t do that either! keep ‘em closed.” you scold him, and he surprisingly listens.

matt feels your laugh fan across his face as you lean back in, and he can smell your light perfume. being this close to you always drives him crazy, whether you’re just friends or not.

“so damn rude.” he jokes with a small smile as you continue applying the dark eyeshadow to his eyes.

you’d already finished with the bottom half of his face; he’s a skeleton, teeth outlined around his mouth and cheekbones emphasized by the smoky makeup. he’s even got the shirt with a ribcage printed on it to match.

you’re copying an inspiration picture he found on pinterest, of all places, and you have to admit you’re doing a damn good job.

matt looks great. a little too good, with his face all scruffy against your hand and his hair messy across his forehead. it’s hard not to notice when you’re right up against him.

“who else is going to keep you in check?” you reply, adding a few finishing touches to some of the outlines and trying not to stare at him too much.

“true. you definitely know how to humble me.” matt says as you lean back a bit to observe your work.

“hey, i’m not always mean.” you find yourself frowning a little bit, and you’re not sure why his answer upsets you.

this time he fully opens both eyes, that striking shade of blue, and he looks at you like you’re crazy.

“sure you’re not.” he says sarcastically, and your eyebrows furrow further.

his small grin fades when he notices your own expression, and matt nudges his knee against yours gently.

“i was just joking. i love you, even when you’re kind of cranky.”

this makes you smile, even though you try to fight it. you have to admit you’re not always the nicest, and that sometimes you do have a bit of a guard up with him.

it’s just because you love him as so much more than your best friend, and it scares you. looking into his eyes right now is scaring you even more, and you see his gaze flick at your mouth.

“your makeup is all done, princess.” you tease matt softly, and he licks his lips.

now he can see you staring at his mouth, and it makes his stomach erupt with butterflies. it’s embarrassing how many times he’s thought about kissing you throughout this process, having you just inches from his face as you helped with his costume.

maybe that’s why he liked the idea so much in the first place.

“then i guess we better get going, sweetheart.” he taunts you back, and you suck in a breath.

a stroke of silence passes between the two of you, one of the most charged moments you’ve ever experienced with him.

“tell me not to kiss you,” matt says quietly as he leans in, lips so close to yours you swear you can almost feel them, “tell me it’s a stupid idea.”

“i…i can’t do that.” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear.

he can’t take it anymore. he closes the final bit of distance between the two of you so that he can capture your mouth with his own.

it’s steady and sweet, and you’re just so glad it’s finally happening. you put a hand on his chest, pulling away after a good minute.

you’re breathing a bit heavy and so is he, both unable to contain your smiles. you smudged his makeup a bit, so you reach up and fix it with your finger gently.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to ruin your hard work.” matt apologizes.

“it’s okay, i liked it enough to forgive you.” you tease him, giving him one more careful peck just for the hell of it.

he laughs, and it’s his turn to extend his hand out, using his thumb to wipe the black streaks off of your lips. your heart feels like it’s going to explode, and you don’t know how you’re going to go to this party with all of your friends and act normal.

“we should do that more often, maybe when i’m not a skeleton.” he suggests, dropping his hand back into his lap with a grin.

“you’re actually right for once, because we really should.” you joke, licking your lips to make sure your own makeup still looks okay.

“what did you say earlier about being so nice?” matt tilts his head, eyebrows raised in a knowing look.

“hey, i never said nice, i said not always mean.” you point out, and he chuckles again as he shakes his head.

he’s about to respond when chris throws the door open and both of you flinch hard.

“hurry it up, lovebirds. we’re going to be late.”

[am-i-interrupting]

You Get A Set Of Nails That Match Her

For @mimikyu-of-death

(Part one— the boys)

Lute

Lute did not know how to react when you showed her nails inspired by her.

She looked between you and the nails, complexion slowly turning more and more golden.

“They’re pretty?” was what she finally managed to choke out.

They were likely matte with a grey and white color scheme, maybe a grey french tip on a white base, some white wings with black outlines, her halo.

She liked them.

These would be the pair that you would catch her actively trying to look at whereas she normally couldn’t care less.

She thinks she sneaky about it. She is not.

Rosie

Rosie goes to get her nails done with you as often as she can. She makes it such a fun experience.

She is gossiping with the nail techs or listening to their struggles and giving advice.

She’s a real lively person.

She normally gets something rather simple, black stilettos. Occasionally she’ll get a French tip of simple swirl design. Nothing major.

When you get nails designed with her in mind? Oh, dear lord, everyone’s going to know. She’s going to find a way to slip it into conversation.

Pink with black and white detailing. Maybe a bone, definitely something resembling black lace.

No one’s going to know how the conversation gets to you or nails but if you’re around, she’ll call you over and hold up your hand.

Definitely a very happy camper when it comes to it.

Vaggie

Vaggie would have to be talked into getting her nails done, I feel like.

She wouldn’t go for anything major.

Probably square or almonds, whatever the grey equivalent of nude is. She might get some pink swirls.

Whenever she goes to grab your hand and realizes you’ve gotten a new set done, she immediately flips your hand and is stunned.

A grey base, some pink Xs, a pink bow, and some swirls which match her eye colors.

They’re beautiful.

She just sort of melts and starts finding more reasons to fiddling with your hands.

Velvette

Velvette is the person who first brought you to get your nails done.

She’s been getting her own done for decades. There is nothing this girl has not tried.

Some of the things I think she would not like are the chrome. I think she’d like the cat eyes but chrome in general is a no go.

She’s not big on sparkles unless it’s specific to a design. You will not watch her with a nail covered in just glitter.

I also don’t see her being big on textured nails or the lava lamp trend that’s going around right now.

Aside from that, free game.

It’s hard to surprise her with stuff surrounding your fashion because she likes to be so involved with it but when you pitch surprising her and trying to impress her with your nails as a video idea, she agrees.

“I hope you’re ready to get torn apart, babe.”

Then she sees your nails and is actually surprised.

Obviously the color scheme is pink, black, and white. There’s some stripes, some swirls, maybe a couple hearts, and a nod to her skeleton earrings.

She brings you in for a kiss that she covers the camera for.

“You’ve got to pay to see this.”

Of course, Valentino and Velvette both get a lot of questions about when she’s going to do a video.

She promptly shuts this down.

[dduane]

Hope this isn't an ask you get all the time, but how do you track your progress when you're doing editing?

Everyone talks about word goals, and that seems fine for a first draft, but doesn't make sense to me when it comes to revisions. Do you have any kind of system for setting daily goals for your revisions?

Actually, I don't think anyone's ever asked me about this. :) So no sweat.

Briefly: I think you're wise in not attempting wordcounting in this phase of dealing with an MS—or trying to push yourself into a structure so rigid. ...There's this, too: there's a whole lot too much emphasis out there at the moment on trying to force yourself into other people's writing and editing paradigms—so many of them riddled with bar graphs and "demonstrable" daily progress. You need to find what works for you. More words dealt with in a day, sure, that's encouraging in its way. But are they the right words?

Today’s Writer Take that will probably strike some as Hot (and ask me if I care): Some kinds of writing progress are just neither graphically nor numerically quantifiable. And damned to the least TripAdvisorally-acceptable regions of [insert your preferred underworld here] be those who’ve tried to sell people the idea that they are.

(sigh)

Now, for what it's worth: here's how I do it. Which may be useful to other people, or not so much so. And that's fine, because I'm not editing their novels. :)

(Adding a break here. Under the cut: advice + advice = advice, and some images of text I shouldn't be letting y'all see just yet... but WTF.)

Revision for me is a fairly relaxed business—unless my editor has told me WE NEED THIS ON TUESDAY, which thank sweet Thoth on his e-bike is very rare.

It also helps that I like revising. (When I was a kid, I liked liver, too. And spinach. Just call me Miss Outlier and let's move on.) I really enjoy the feeling of the work’s rough edges being filed down and the sparse places being filled out.

And also: second draft/first revision draft is nowhere near as tense for me as first draft. Because, thank God, at least there's a book.

First draft is where I sweat blood and otherwise suffer. While I can see the story just fine in my head, it's not really real for me until the first draft, whole in narrative and action, is complete on paper/in the machine. And till it's achieved at least that level of reality, I can't relax.

But by the time I hit my second/revision draft, I can be confident that any really serious problems in the novel have already been solved—because I'm an outliner. In the outline stage, potential thematic or structural troubles will routinely have revealed themselves way long ago: before drafting even got started, as I first wired the story's bones together. The successfully-executed first draft acts as proof-of-concept for that structural wiring. By the time that draft’s done, it’s immediately apparent whether the skeleton can successfully stand up by itself. And gods is that a relief when it does! You’re tempted to jump around yelling “It's aliiiiiive!" as the lightning strikes around you.*

However, if after submitting that draft my editor's found something structurally or thematically troublesome in it that I've completely missed until this point, my first order of business becomes to fix whatever their notes involve and submit the fixes. Nothing further happens until the editor sees what I've done about those problems, and until I get agreement that whatever intervention I've enacted has now sorted the problems out.

After that, everything happens in bed.

(...casually noting that for a line to use somewhere else...) :)

But seriously: I do my best revision and editing before getting up in the morning.

Some of this is because, for me, the mind's nice and quiet and (theoretically) at least moderately well rested, right after sleep. I might take the briefest glance at my email first to make sure nothing urgent needs attention... but once that’s done, I refuse to let myself go any further down that hole. That early-morning calm is a mental state I'm glad to exploit, and one I jealously guard. On days when I'm forced to do without the working lie-in**, I use a different approach: when there's a pause, sit down and do nothing—no reading, no video, no music, no phone, nothing—for half an hour: then start editing. Routinely, the quiet I need will once more have fallen.

The in-bed-editing approach also works for me because (since I'm working in Scrivener) it's absolutely no big deal to finish a day's editing on a file by exporting a version of the file containing the day's edits to ebook format, and into my Dropbox. From there, in the morning, without ever getting out from under the covers, I can pull that .epub file into my tablet and read it as an ebook, making corrections and notes there.

This is what it looks like (on a page without too many corrections) if the app you're using is "Books" in an iPad. The second image is what you get when you touch on the marginal yellow square of the note to examine it.

Then, when I'm finished looking over the previous day's/evening's writing and adding notes to it, I go downstairs, get some caffeine in me, and make the changes in the main Scrivener file. (If I was running the project in question on the iPad version of Scrivener, I'd just make the change right there. But who knows when I'd actually get up, then? Better to do it this way.) :)

In the normal flow of things I'll attempt to deal with a chapter or two a day in this mode. (Always bearing in mind that my chapters in early drafts typically run long—often 10K or so—and I'm likely enough to rebreak them later.) This first level of revision is the easy one: catching typos and bad or clumsy phrasings, reworking character interactions that need smoothing out; adding better descriptive passages (with particular emphasis on staying in the visual, audio and tactile senses), etc., etc.

So again: no way I'd ever bother worrying about word counts, with these. What seems to count for more is giving yourself time to recognize, gradually, at a reader's pace, what's working in the prose and what isn't. Rush—or try to force the pace to a given number of words per day—and you run the risk of missing something vital. To me, at the tracking level, it seems sufficient to note which chapters have been dealt with, and which are still hanging fire. (I can change the chapters' color labels in Scrivener to make this status visible at a glance, if I need to.)

When everything's dealt with on this pass—which if I'm lucky will take no more than a couple/few weeks—I try to take a couple weeks off before dealing with the MS again. Sometimes that's possible: sometimes not. The longer you can leave the book alone to let your perceptions of it rest and reset themselves, the better. Distance—mental or temporal—seems to lend clarity.

In any case, for me, next comes another pass, tougher to describe. Casually, I refer to it as the "Missed Opportunities/Complications" pass. This is a thing that one of the very best writers I know, John M. Ford, used to do. One of his editors (I think it was) came across him working on an MS one time, and asked him what he was doing. "Complications," Mike muttered. "Removing them?" said his editor. Mike shook his head. "Adding them," he said.

In this pass you look for in-novel connections you've previously missed making. Some dramatic moments have their impact significantly increased if you've found a way to connect them, even casually, with previous events, situations, character thoughts, or dialogue. (The cheap and easy mnemonic for this kind of thing: "Say a thing twice, and it echoes. Say it three times, and it resonates.")

Equally, events (and people) may turn out to require more complex backstory than you've given them in your first draft; so this is where you take care of that. And of course there are almost certainly character and emotional interactions that can use attention; fewer words, more depth, more complexity. What things do these people, in this situation, need to say to one another that they haven't? And also, what drama got scamped or passed up on because you were just too damn tired in the last draft? —Because you too, poor baby, are human; and that state can, entirely logically, make you want not to deal with any more damn drama just now. Even though drama is the lifeblood of your narrative, usually, and tying a tourniquet around it really doesn't help. You are the conduit of power into your narrative, and your varying ability to conduct it is always an issue… so you need to keep an eye open for places where the flow may have temporarily failed.

This pass, ideally, might take no more than another few weeks or a month. And again, I'm not sure any attempt at wordcount tracking would do this work any good. Because, again... are they the right words? And to make the narrative more effective, you may wind up removing as many words as you added in previous passes.

Finally, with all things taken together, I usually reach a point where (by myself, anyway) I can't think of anything to do that'll make this book any better. That's where there then comes—and again, impossible to assign a word count to it—a time when you know you're as Done As You Can Be. If you've been doing this long enough, you may even hear a strange kind of sigh in the back of your head, as the book gives up and lets go...

...into the next stage of production. But even then you keep an eye on it… because in my experience it’s rare that any book's ever that easily just finished. Even in page proofs, something may happen to surprise you.

Anyway, that's when I throw the book the hell out of the house—because no matter how much I've loved it previously, by that time I'm usually seriously tired of it—and wait to see whether the editor feels it needs one more draft. (Disclosure: this has never happened. There might be a few notes that need to be handled. But another full draft? Never yet.)

Anyway: hope this is of help to you.

But the heart of it all? Find your own way, and screw the bar graphs.

*That line, too, is an indicator of trouble to come. "It's?" Not "he's"? Tsk tsk.

**Usually sort of 7-9 AM. Sometimes way earlier, depending on the time of year. Dawn comes real early in the summertime in Ireland…

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Happy (belated) fifth anniversary for Triaina Academy, Leo! I hope that you got to at least do a small celebration for five years of work sometime in June. In the spirit of Triaina being five, I wanted to ask you about the old demo, actually; is there a scene you left / are going to leave on the cutting room floor that you miss? Are there other plot points from it that you really liked? I'm curious about how you feel about it after so long. Regardless, I hope this finds you well!

Hey there! Damn, it really doesn't feel like it's been five years since I've began undertaking this project haha. The very first showing of Triaina Academy was in june, and was fairly sizable for its first posting, hovering around 70k-ish words leading up to the middle of the 2nd chapter and having introductions for everyone except S and F. During then, I had far more free time available to me, and worked on that version of the demo until it grew to around 250-300k words spanning nearly 5 chapters.

But I realized as I had progressed through writing that the quality of my early chapter writing wasn't consistent with the current standards I wanted to have now, and so much of that wordcount was scrapped, with only the skeletonized outline remaining of the old work. I returned to square one and rewrote the story in its entirety from the beginning, leading to the current state now, with the revised version hitting close to 220k words. In the back of my head I consider that, had I just continued writing without a revision, Triaina Academy would already be a finished product.

In many ways I regret that despite it being five years, it feels like there is nothing much for me to show for it. Even more so now that my work pushes me between mental stress and physical exhaustion, often giving me little time or motivation to pull up the writing on my computer. But I love what I've created. I love the joys it brings me as a creative, as well as hearing the joy it brings you all to read. So even if it seems like I fall away, I am still pressing on to continue, even if it's a tiny bit at a time, until it becomes something both I and readers can find joy in.

Now, speaking of the old demo, there's many scenes that have become nonexistent. I liked quite a few of them, and there are probably many overarching ideas that will return in different forms within the new context of the current demo. But there are also many that won't.

A few mentions of old scenes that probably won't be making a return, either because they've been replaced or they are no longer relevant:

During the very first date with raven, although the makeshift "home" returned, there was an additional scene where the MC discovers mutilated bodies in a closet space.

Before the festival scene seen in the demo now, the working equivalent of it in the old demo was an underground party held by students of the academy in an abandoned airport. The idea of this was cut out because within the story, I decided the world wasn't in a current state for airspace travel save for very specific exceptions. But during this scene, the party is interrupted by a body being discovered hanging from the overhead walkways of a hangar, paired with a bloody message.

There was a scene where you could order and allow V to shoot and kill a student. Originally I had thought to make this into a fail state where the MC and V were thrown in jail for a game over, but upon the revision this was taken out entirely, as I decided against abrupt, early endings.

Infamously, E was originally written as a step-sibling character in the old demo. I had thought on testing and developing the dynamic, since I didn't see very many games do it, and my game was pretty heavily inspired by various anime and manga related tropes and character styles. But eventually, I decided to shift them into a childhood friend/next door neighbor romance without adjusting their personality because I put a lot of effort into developing the entirety of their story arch, and I wanted them to appeal to a more general audience. Funnily enough, they are still labeled as their old role within the code, just because it has become too much work to change all of the variables haha

F's personal assistant, Fiore, didn't actually exist within the old demo. At least not in the same capacity. She was added because I realized F's personality didn't work well as an independent romantic driver, and they needed an additional external factor to push F into more romantic situations. Fiore RO DLC is an additional purchase of $9999.

In the old demo, MC's, and to a lesser extent everyone else's parents, played far less of an apparent role. I wanted to develop a story showing the previous generation compared to the current one, as in some ways there is a "passing of the torch" theme throughout the plot.

S and F were introduced far later in the old demo, to the point every other RO was given a full extra date scene before they joined the picture. One goal of my revision was being able to give these two an earlier introduction so they could all have their own date scene. In the old demo they were introduced in a scene where P and the MC had to switch rooms, allowing the MC to meet the last two members of Dorm Exul, as well as I think letting them read P's diary.

You used to be able to choose both M and P's gender independently, but with them becoming more structured as identical twins, M will always be the same gender you pick for P.

R used to be far more of a directly flirtatious character like M, but has since naturally shifted to the laid-back, bantering character they are now as I've continued writing them.

Similarly, V was written in a far more robotic tone with only short one-to-three-word responses, and although they are still fairly terse and unemotional, they've developed over time to have far more spoken dialogue and hints of emotional cracks.

There used to be a fail scene in M's romance if you refused to hit them the first time. Much like the other fail state, this was taken out and the decision between leaning into their masochistic tendencies or not became part of their path selection.

Many of the side characters within the story were not introduced, and so neither were their stories. Lewis and S's hostile relationship was not developed, Rex and Acer only had passing remarks, Treyla, Juno, Uno, and others who were nonexistent to the plot now hold some relevance to specific MC specializations, and instructors other than Rosaline and Hoft were given names and a larger part as progressors of MC specializations.

As far as the most favorite scene that I'll miss leaving on the cutting room for, hmm. It is most likely the school tournament arc that I had planned in the old demo. It was in the works and quite far in development at the time that I realized my writing had taken far steps away from the book's early development, both in quality and creative direction. The tournament was supposed to be a method to more actively showcase the combat capabilities of each character's powers, with several rounds and fight scenes already written. But within this new revised plot, I plan for the S.T.E.M. abilities to develop far slower and gradually with trackable leaps in power, not yet becoming combat capable at the time this tournament arc would've occurred. Still, the scene and idea I had in my head, and what I had already written, was quite fun! Although I probably won't be able to figure out a way for this exact scenario to happen now, eventually I would love to bring back the idea of a tournament, or arena type of setting, at some point in the story haha.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings. I didn't think the response would get this long haha. Triaina Academy has recieved so much more positive reception and love than I could have ever imagined when I first began working on it. In all honesty, I had figured that maybe I would be writing for a handful or so to see and think it was neat, and I'd be plucking away at it from time to time with no real thought to its success in mind. But it has instead risen to a stage far larger than I thought it could perform on, almost dauntingly so as I fear for disappointing so many, both with its quality, and the fact I can't dedicate as much into its development as people hope and ask for. Even still, I hope you can forgive me for not being able to rise to expectations, especially in regard to the pace of development, or the length of silence revolving it. The one thing I can promise, is that I still love this creation of mine, and all of you who have seen and may continue to see it flourish, and I do not plan to end its development unless I die a very painful, early death.

Thank you very much!

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

How I Hacked My Short Story Brain into Developing a Novel

I promised I'd make this post, so here it is, but with a proper title and everything so that it'll be more generally helpful to other writers.

Regulars of this blog have probably noticed that I've struggled a lot with long-form fiction over the years, despite having churned out a library's worth of short fiction.

This time though, things are coming together, and it's because I've got a technique down that plays to my strengths as a short story writer.

Step 1: Outline and Draft Something

After writing and abandoning several outlines for my WIP Last Night, New Body, I finally set one in stone and wrote a draft for it this January.

The rough, first, skeleton draft was 30,000 words long - far from ideal, but better than nothing. It was tough, but I got it done in two months.

Step 2: Read Through and Take Notes

Next, I read through the draft and took notes on how I thought the novel could be improved. This included notes on plot, characters, and setting. The notes were all taken in a spread sheet in the following format:

Page Number -> Note Title -> Description -> Category

The 'Note Title' could be something witty or referential, but it has to be short, like the name of an achievement in a video game. So for example, it could be:

23 -> Enemy at the Gates -> Why does Nadia shut the door when she sees that Rhea has come to visit? -> Character

I took these notes freely, writing down any point that I thought could be changed, expanded, removed, or otherwise mused.

Once I was done with these notes, the question arose: what the hell do I do with these notes?

Step 3: Treat the Notes As Writing Prompts

This step is in-progress at the moment, but I'm halfway through it already! The idea is to take each note and write 500 words for it.

This comes naturally to me because I've written hundreds upon hundreds of flash fiction pieces for my blog, each one targetted for 500 words. This means I'm now developing the novel 500 words at a time, based on the notes I took while reading through the skeleton draft.

The process has been beautifully productive so far, and I've come up with so much detail, so many new scenes, and better developed characters. My next draft will be assuredly be much longer than the 30k words I got down before.

So how long will this take? That depends on how many notes you take. I initially took 72 notes, but I've found that as the story develops and changes, I've had to "delete" many notes because they became redundant or irrelevant. I say delete in quotes because I've actually moved them to a 'recycle bin' sheet of sorts, so that I can retrieve them later if I deem them important after all.

Next Steps? Outline and Draft the Thing

I'm generating a lot of meat for the skeleton draft, and I'm dying to put that meat on the bones. To do that, I plan on first constructing a very detailed outline, including as much detail from the expanded notes (the 500-word pieces) as possible.

This done, I'll write the 'flesh draft' while referencing both this outline and the skeleton draft. As excited as I am for this, I do anticipate this process to be difficult, so I might find a way to divide it into small, short story sized chunks as well.

Then come the edits and everything else. We'll cross those bridges when we get there.

[ash-is-dying]

Temporary Tattoo

A/N: Felt compelled to write a quick blurb after drawing one of these on my own hand. Idk guys the delulu is really getting to me today. Anyway enjoy!

Shy!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 782

Fluffy / Mildy Spicy Blurb

---

“Just stay still Eddie!”

“But you’re taking forever!”

The pen runs over his knuckles as you outline the bones on his hand. You had spent the entirety of calculus at the back drawing on Eddie’s hand. He had breached the topic of getting a skeleton hand tattoo so you had made the generous offer to be his temporary tattoo artist.

His various rings had been scattered across the desk and the sleeve of his hellfire shirt had been rolled the full way up his arm exposing his actual tattoos alongside the detailed sketch on his left hand. You sat knee to knee with the boy as the arm you’re drawing with pins his arm to the table and the other holds his hand flat.

For someone who was covered in hidden tattoos you’re genuinely surprised by how much he moved while you were working and how whiney he was being about you taking too long.

“How long?”

“Eddie I haven’t even done your wrist yet. Chill your balls. We’ve still got half an hour anyway.”

He throws his head back and sighs deeply. His other hand starts to fidget, miming the chords for some metal song or another. His eyes close and he looks like a toddler who’s been denied chocolate from the shops. His head lolls to the side to look at you.

You’re completely oblivious to the look he gives you as he studies your concentrated face, biting your lip and your brows furrowed as you smoothed over the outlines you had drawn. Unbeknownst to you the real reason he was so all over the place wasn’t because the tattoo was taking too long.

It was because you were the one drawing it.

When you had started your gentle touches had left him flinching, moving towards your warm hands. Hence the need for physical restraint. Eddie’s cheeks flushed the moment you had wrestled his arm under yours, your closeness making his heart jump start. He could spend hours here just having you draw all over him. He’d let you fill every gap between his tats if it meant he could keep you like this.

The only reason he was now encouraging you to hurry was because he didn’t need the artist girl he’d been crushing on for months noticing the semi he was sporting. He had tried to slide further under the desk to make it less obvious but the hold you had on his arm was making things increasingly harder.

In both ways.

“I don’t think we need to do the wrist, just my hand is fine-” he said sharply.

“But didn’t you want a half-sleeve anyway? Thought you wanted me to try the whole tattoo.”

“As cool as that would be I kinda need my arm back sweetheart-” He says with an edge of panic in his voice.

“Okay okay, I’ll be done in ten.”

The next ten minutes were probably the longest ten minutes of his life.

For the fine detailing you had made the decision that you needed to get even closer. You had rotated his arm and had folded your leg over his, just adjacent to where he desperately needed you not to be. He watched anxiously as you shifted to finish off the tattoo. He genuinely tried to sink into his chair and disappear. If you had even a hint of what was happening under the desk he would be absolutely mortified.

“Why do you get so many tattoos Eds?”

Her sudden question pulls him out of his head. “Oh- um. I guess because they look cool? And they help me express a part of myself that I want to show people rather than tell them about.”

“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause. “Can I ask you something?”

Eddie’s brows raise in concern. “Yes?”

“Do you get this turned on for all your tattoo artists or just me?”

The silence is deafening as his eyes widen in shock and realization. He stutters as you move off of his lap unable to find the words. The bell goes and you begin to pack up your things not sparing him a glance until you put your hand on his shoulder and lean to whisper in his ear.

“If you ever need another tattoo done… call me okay.”

You give his cheek a quick peck as you turn away and walk out of the room with a flush on your face, leaving behind an extremely flustered and red faced Eddie. He looks down at his arm. It’s amazing of course. But what really catches his eye is the messily written phone number on the underside of his arm.

Maybe he will get another temporary tattoo.

[roughdaysandart]

3 cheers for cheers for neat Din charachter analysis!

Got overwhelmed with learning how to paint crystals (Christophsis is featured in 0-2, worked out for one of the made up cities i did before even watching TCW series, what a lovley concidence!) and distracted myself by finally neatly writing down the mando charachter arc I'll be incorporating (which has been on about 10 different sheets of notebook paper up until now) based off of the background drabble of the original fic.

Again it's not exactly anything unexpected so I dont consider it a spoiler (unlike SG's filler content, which has ALOTTA baggage and reveals im still pondering if i should reveal early) but spoiler warning I guess if you think it'll change the quality of your consumption of the future releases that much:

TW: EMOTIONAL SUPRESSION, SENSORY DEPRIVATION, BODILY SELF HATRED, RELIGIOUS COPING/MISUSE, ANXIETY, EXTREME LOSS, UNPACKIMG/REMEMBERANCE, sad tin can

Let me know what yall think! If it's got a logical flow of if there's any inconsistencies with the S1 Mando were dealing with for this fic. Does it SEEM like something he'd have the potential to have as an issue and navigate in the fic's context? I think yes...as m's backstory and lack of a family thereafter could be the root of such things... Anything seem too outlandish or unreasonable? These are notes, yes but I'd still be able to appreciate feedback with just this skeleton outline/timeline.

Shoutout to @thefrogdalorian for the "fierce independance born from trauma" line (from her one-shot "downpour") that stuck/resonated with me all these months brainstorming this interpretation of Din.

Can't say that @djarins-cyare didn't heavily influence my charachter analysis approach when it comes to mando so shoutout her writings are phenomenal

@the-mandawhor1an look at Dins scruffy ✨️shelter cat✨️ aestetic

[uhohbestie]

TAMN Outline

Since we're so close to the end of TAMN, I just wanted to share what Lock and my outline looks like, especially because neither of us ever used outlines for writing fic before this LOL

The only reason we have one for TAMN is because we were determined to finish this thing within a year of starting it and really wanted to post a chapter a week. Realistically, between work and irl and different timezones, there was no WAY we'd be able to keep up with a weekly posting schedule OR our self-imposed deadline if we were writing on the fly, so an outline was a good way to keep us on track.

(Details under the cut 'cause this got long af lmao)

SO FIRST OF ALL. We have quick chapter markers to refer to just to keep track of where we're at. The obvious ones are as follows:

🐈 Scar POV Chapters 🦜 Grian POV Chapters 🧟‍♂️ Some sort of significant zombie encounter that chapter 💦 Smut

I took this screenshot a WHILE back so Chapter 12 was actually split into 2 chapters, as was Chapter 14. So while the two emojis in Chapter 14 were meant to signify both Scar and Grian's POVs in that chapter, we ultimately just split it into a separate Scar chapter and a separate Grian chapter.

As for the other markers, this is what they mean at a glance:

✔️ Chapter is written ✔️✔️ Chapter has been edited by one person ✅ Chapter edited by both of us; Ready to Post 💯 Chapter has been posted to AO3

The last one isn't in the screenshot above, but is another one we use. And, ofc, if it doesn't have any of those markers beside it, it means the chapter hasn't been written yet.

Other than that, every chapter heading has not only the chapter number, but a reminder of where Scarian are, the time of day that chapter starts at, and how long of a walk/drive to their next destination remains. Plus, the very first point is always the current date and the weather (in Celsius 🍁) for the day. It looks something like this:

For a short chapter like Ch. 6 where not too much happens, the outline is just a handful of points. Also, we put a strike through things we skipped as we wrote when we felt they no longer fit the mood we were going for. (Basically, the outline is here as a guide and we adjust as needed for full creative freedom.)

Now the LINKS at the bottom lead to ANOTHER document where Lock and I's original conversations are sorted, in case we need to reference back to something we don't remember. That looks like something like this:

So when you click the link, there's a pop up that will take you directly to the original conversation about it located in another doc.

Basically, Lock and I had talked about TAMN for months before every writing it, so when I suggested making an outline, Lock was like "yeah, we basically have a skeleton already with how much we've talked about it". So what we did was, I copy-pasted EVERY conversation we had about TAMN into a Google Doc, and then Lock went through and SUMMARISED EVERYTHING in each conversation into The Main Points. After that, I went and put them into chronological order in a new doc which then became the outline we use today! 💫

Thus, when you click on a link from the outline, you get taken to the conversation summary, and if you scroll down past the summary you get to the actual conversation itself, minus our usernames/formatting/timestamps to make it easier to read at a glance:

And then, ofc, the further along we got in the fic, the more complicated the plot and the chapters got. So instead of short and sweet outlines with a link or two to old conversations, we had to come up with a lot of in between events that still somehow added to the plot and moved the story along to the main points we wanted to hit.

This was actually what took me the longest during outlining, and poor Lock kept going "JUST LEAVE IT BLANK, WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT AS WE GO" but I really wanted to have SOMETHING down just to give us a springboard to launch off of, because we had no idea if we'd have time WHILE writing to come up with anything.

(This continues on for more pages since we combined two chapters into one here, but this is the gist of what the outlines turned into per chapter as we got later and later in the fic LOL)

Turned out to be the right call, because it's saved our asses more than once when on a time-crunch! That said, there were a couple chapters where we DID in fact go "idk about what's in the outline, what if we do this instead?" and then do that because it Felt Right. So again, the outline was super helpful but not a hard and fast rule. (Though Lock and I had our fair share of "WHY DIDN'T YOU WRITE WHAT WAS IN THE OUTLINE"/"I FORGOR" moments that have been fun every step of the way 😂)

AAAND, I THINK THAT'S IT! THAT'S OUR OUTLINE! 🎉

Just wanted to make a post for it to document because it was such a novel experience, hahaha! Like I said earlier, neither Lock nor I ever used outlines before, even when writing fics together for other fandoms :')

I've got two completed longfics under my belt from before TAMN in my last fandom and I wrote those completely on the fly as well. Worked out just fine, but like. It took me 2-4 YEARS to finish the fics, and they were both MUCH shorter than TAMN is. 😅 Nothing wrong with that obviously, but it was a lot of fun to try something new and it felt incredible to be able to have a new chapter ready to go each week! ;w; 💜

We're almost done writing the fic and honestly idk what we're gonna do with all this free time once we've wrapped it up... time to come up with a new longfic ig LMAO

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, HOORAY! 🎊

Here's a little bonus for you--

From the time I went to a gun range and shot both a rifle (near the head) and a shotgun (the spray by the stomach) and took notes so that we could use it in our fic JHGFDSKJHDF THE CRAZY RESEARCH WE'VE BOTH DONE FOR TAMN I STG 😂😂😂😂😂

[luckybyrdrobyn]

Chapter 1 draft 1 (its technically draft 2 but we don't talk about that one)

It was a pleasant night in Miyazaki, the wind was low and the temperature of the air was a pleasant chill. The full moon illuminating the few corners untouched by the streetlights. The only shadow cast came in the silhouette of the stranger who made their way swiftly down the street, long striding steps causing their cloak to billow around and behind them despite the non-existent wind.

There is the vague outline of a bundle, disappearing in and out of folds of black fabric. The stranger holds it close to their chest as if to shield it from view of their surroundings. Not that anyone who might catch a glimpse here would care much more than to gossip the oddity over a lunch break the next day. But the strangers appearance alone is enough to spike that curiosity.

-

Further down the street is the hose of Kuroo Tanoshi and Keriena, marked by a goofy Halloween skeleton with a now empty bowl in hand and a sign reading "take one" in spiky characters.

Kuroo Tanoshi was a well built man with neat black hair and warm brown eyes that could see into your soul. He was a kind man who valued the comfort of those around him, often more than his own, much to his wife's chargin.

He worked at a small chemist, preparing prescriptions and identifying worrying customers' maladies. While the pay was not the most ideal, he would often state that he "wouldn't take any jobs over it", finding happiness in aiding those who came to him.

Keriena Kuroo was a confident woman, with a toned body that didn't quite match the heavily pregnant silhouette she currently supported. Her long dark brown hair was cropped short underneath and her eyes were dark enough to be black. Tanoshi would often declare that they held all the stars of the night if their depths.

While currently on maternity leave, Keriena had still been burrying herself into her work, unable to stay out of the loop for even a week, let alone three. She worked as a detective and field agent in the local law enforcement with a 89% success rate in her field.

Keriena is seated at their dinner table as Tanoshi stands in their kitchen, cleaning the plates from the evening's meal. They chat amicably about Tanoshi's day and plans for their unborn son.

The conversation finds its way to forgein politics and Keriena mentions that it's been a year since the end of the mass murders in London. The news had spread quickly around the world at the time. The sudden end to an eleven year war was bound to cause ripples, even in Japan.

No one was certain how the cult leader had died. There were speculations in Keriena's workplace of course; bombs, gas leaks, structural damage enough to crush the leader, even the occasional suggestion it was suicide for one reason or another.

The Potters had been the only ones home that night, the young couple and their son. At the end of the incident, the only member left unaccounted for was 1 year old Harry. Neighbours had heard him crying in an upstairs room after the incident but when responders got up there, there was no baby in sight.

It sparked a huge search at the time. But no reports or reminders had been put out about it since June. One baby, no matter how symbolic, wasn't worth the time and money when you were rebuilding from a war after all. The boy who lived, forgotten, reduced to a title to stir action.

A quiet fell momentarily as the couple sat in contemplation. Tanoshi with his mouth set in a grim line, never one for such sour endings, as he finished in the kitchen and moved back towards the table. He bent to hold his wife for a moment, to thank the spirits that both her and their son were safe, that they had no need to fear such dangers.

A knock echoed from the front door. Three strong raps and then silence.

The couple traded looks, not expecting anyone at this time, moat of the trick-or-treaters having dwindled off an hour ago. Tanoshi, slightly spooked but never one to let others down, stepped away to answer the door anyway. Keriena a short ways behind him, curious and cautious.

There was nothing visible through the peep-hole but Tanoshi proceeded to unlock and open the door eyes automatically scanning the front garden and along the street for figures. It was Keriena's gasp that made him look down. Following her gaze to their doorstep his eyes found a small bundle.

Neatly wrapped in green cloth, clutching a letter in one small chubby hand was a little boy with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. He couldn't have been much older than two, tiny face, framed by messy black hair scrunched in some sort of dream as he sat there, no other person in sight.

Picking up the child carefully, neither of the Kuroos noticed the soft crack as the stranger across the street turned on his heel and disappeared, only a corner of his cloak waving behind as he left. Harry Potter was safe for now, their job was done.

[alienducky]

Fire Emblem Three Houses Crochet Wyvern - attempt 1

I finally finished it! It's taken me since the end of March 2022 (on and off, I got sidetracked making Alligator Loki for a while) but my prototype wyvern is done

Wyvern is 123.5 inches / 10foot 3.5 inches / 313.69cm wingtip to wingtip, and 56 inches / 4 foot 6 inches / 142.24cm nose to tail tip, and roughly 6 lbs / 2.72 kg ish. So a chunky baby He was made out of aran weight yarn using a 5mm hook and for the most part is Tunisian knit stitch. His toes were done in Tunisian simple stitch, and I think I did his teeth in normal rounds?

And now I do a cut to save everyone's feeds from all the pictures I'm going to share ^_^

(For reference, here are two photos of the wyvern from in game)

First, a few more angles on wyvern, and then I'll point out things I want to change for the next one

He's a handsome lad, and very recognisable for what he's meant to be!

But he also could be improved. A lot

Example 1, I lined up wyverns nose and tail tip against the in game 3d model to see how close he was to being accurate. And, er. yeah.

To give myself credit, when I first started this back in March 2022, I was working out lengths and widths and general sizing from screenshots taken from examining units in Three Houses, where I traced the outline onto a sheet of paper to measure things and perspective makes things AWKWARD, ok? (As is having brain farts and not remembering that the ruler had metric on the other side of it, but shush, let's not mention that bit)

So the biggest thing to fix will be the scaling, if I can. I can definitely make the tail longer, the head shorter and thinner, the chest between the wings thinner, the wing sockets bulkier, and thanking all the stars, the wings get to be smaller too. By a LOT

The other major thing I want to do different/better is how the ridges along his back from nose to tail tip work.

While they do work on wyvern, they don't look as great as I think they potentially can? So I'm going to be doing double layers of crochet, sort of, to help give the sticky up bit of the overlapping ridges more definition, and hopefully make them look like the slightly thicker scaling they're meant to be. It'll also help to smooth them out, so they won't have the weird dips where I've joined one to the next

I'm going to do the wings differently too, because what I did with these ones was quite frankly awful? I cut each wing segment into individual pieces to then hem and flip inside out to over sew the visible edges, and then hemmed up the sides that went inside the struts to then sew the crocheted parts to the fabric. So the fabric was the cheese to the crochet bread in this awful, awful sandwich situation. I am also never, ever buying anything that is even vaguely silky or satiny or slippery ever again for anything

For the next one I'll keep the two pieces of wing fabric as one big piece, since the top and bottom of the wing membranes are actually slightly different colours if you look closely, but I'm going to cheat and use some of that iron on hemming tape stuff to fill the inside of the fabric after I've done all the outer hemming and over sewing so it'll kind of look like all the veins and stuff that the membranes have? So the fabric hopefully won't slip around so much, so will be easier to sew, and keeping it as one big piece means there's less change of me messing up the positioning of the struts on the panels because the wings on this one aren't equal despite my best efforts

Next is Claude's white wyvern, but it'll be made with DK yarn and either a 3.5 or 4mm hook, so it will (hopefully) come out significantly smaller than this one. And that one is going to get plastic boning/skeleton in it, so it'll be poseable!!!

[pastriibunz]

NIGHTMARE KAI-ME OFFICIAL LINEUP!

“LOOK WHAT HAPPENS, NIGHTMARE TI KAIME!”

Summary: A 10 part/episode miniseries revolving around Kai’s misadventures in Hatchetfield! Follow Kai’s goofy hijinks as she deals with everything from robots to cat loving kidnappers! Some episodes are based off of episodes from Team Starkid’s series “Nightmare Time” and some episodes are original works by yours truly (with prompts/plot outlines by @local-soda-can)!

SEASON ONE, EPISODE ONE - Hey, Melissa!

“meow meow meow meow - meow mix cat food”

Episode Type: Canon (?)

Summary: Kai gets involved in a very bizarre adventure with her father’s bubbly coworker, Melissa. KAI GETS CATGIRL’D LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

SEASON ONE, EPISODE TWO - The Waylon Squatter

“we’ll meet again - vera lynn”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Peter Spankoffski and Stephanie Lauter decide to break head into the Waylon to make hang out. Their plans are interrupted by Grace Chasity, who decides to tag along on their little adventure, much to their dismay. The three are informed of the rumors of the Waylon being haunted by various ghosts, one of which being the ghost of a young homeless girl who hid in the Waylon in hopes of shelter, but was driven insane by what went on inside the walls. She now stalks the halls, singing a beautiful, yet haunting melody, now dubbed ‘The Waylon Squatter’. The trio brushes off the rumors as just that and sets off to disprove them. Their adventure takes a turn for the worse as they come face to face with a very real Waylon Squatter, who doesn’t take well to strangers in her territory. The trio now has to try and survive while uncovering the mystery behind The Waylon Squatter’s past.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE THREE - Forever And Always

“forever & always - original starkid cast of nightmare time”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Paul Matthews and Emma Perkins are finally getting hitched, and their adoptive daughter, Kai Drew, is happy to join them on the ride! However, when secrets arise from Emma's past, the happy family's lives are turned upside down as the couple is forced to confront their skeletons in their closets, and Kai is forced to choose between the family she thought she knew or the truth.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE FOUR - Revised Reprise

“puppet boy - devo”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Paul and Emma love Kai! Of course they do, she’s been living with them for a while now, she’s practically their daughter! But, they realize something: they don’t really know much about Kai’s past, other than she lived in a town called Unington with her parents and friends. Everything else is a mystery to them. So, what do they do? Ask the source, of course! Kai is hesitant to share the details of her past, as her life has been full of tragedies and hardship. With enough convincing, Kai starts to think back to her past. While doing this, she stumbles upon something strange: she can’t quite remember what traumatic events happened to her. And the things she can remember? They’ve been twisted and turned into a more romanticized version of events, along with an entirely new person added into her memories. Confused and determined to get to the bottom of this, Kai heads back to her hometown to figure out why her memories were rewritten and who was behind it.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE FIVE - Watcher World

“the blinky song - original starkid cast of nightmare time”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Kai is invited to spend the day with her Uncle Bill and his daughter, Alice, for some “family bonding time” at Watcher World, an older amusement park located on the edge of Hatchetfield. But, of course, Kai can never catch a break, as her fun turns to fear when she realizes there’s more to the park than meets the eye.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE SIX - Miss Ingénue

“venetian blind man (song) - will wood”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai loves living in Hatchetfield! She’s got some awesome parents that she loves a lot, and most of everyone is half decent towards her. Recently, however, things have been a bit…odd. Paul and Emma have been strangely overprotective of her, barely allowing her room to breathe. Plus, whenever she goes out alone, she can’t help but feel like she’s being watched by thousands of eyes, and not in a good way. Watch as Kai tries to get to the bottom of the strange happenings that are occurring to her.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE SEVEN - Abstinence Camp

“virginity rocks - original starkid cast of nightmare time 2”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Kai is forced to go to Hatchetfield’s very own Abstinence Camp by Paul when she offhandedly mentions she kinda, sorta, peggedaman lost her virginity and he freaks. Despite her protests and repeated reassurances of the fact that she is asexual, she gets sent to the camp. And as trouble follows Kai everywhere and refuses to lay off her, she learns of a dark secret, one that stalks the camp, lurking in the shadows. One that punishes the horny and troublemaking teens of the camp that refuse to abstain. One that carries an axe.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE EIGHT - Food For Thought

“dinner is not over - jack stauber’s micropop”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: All your worst nightmares have come true: Kai has entered the work force! That’s right, Miss Drew now has a job at Hatchetfield’s very own Miss Retro’s! Kai’s extremely thankful for the job, as it allows her to do one of her only comforts left: cooking for others! Kai’s BANGIN cooking skills begin to attract attention, and the diner gets a lot of traction! However, cooking takes a turn for the worse, as Kai begins to get plagued with horrific and grotesque visions of her friends and family as she cooks. Panicked and overwhelmed by the visions, Kai is forced out of the kitchen and onto the diner floor, taking orders and bringing customers their food. But when a mysterious customer enters the diner and requests Kai to cook their meals, Kai is forced back into the kitchen. The food ordered is strangely familiar to her, and Kai’s suspicions start to grow as she wonders who the customer is, and what they want with her.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE NINE - Web Of Lies

“kiss me, son of god - they might be giants”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai has won. Finally, after years of searching, Kai has found a timeline where nothing bad happens. She’s finally able to have that happy family she so desperately wants! But, nothing lasts forever. She soon is plagued by visions of other timelines. With her deduction skills, she soon concludes that something or someone is messing with her, and she has a pretty good idea of who. She confronts them, and she thinks her problems are over. Soon, however, things start to spiral out of control. Also, does anyone mind telling Kai what the heck a Webby is?!

SEASON ONE, EPISODE TEN - Space Drifter

“another believer - rufus wainwright”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai’s habit of running from her problems finally catches up to her.

SOUNDTRACK LINK:

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello! Thank you for every advice you give here!

This might sound like a weird ask, but I don't know how to write the second(or more) draft. I've heard some advice about rewriting and not editing, but every time I try to write the second draft, I just end up copying the first one, with very few differences.

So my question is, what is your way of writing the second draft and if you have any advice on that? I know some things that work for some don't work for others, but I just can't seem to find the right way.

Oh, second drafts. Only the most difficult writing step after drafting, followed by the most difficult step of writing the third draft.

The good news is that almost no one pulls together their story on the second draft. If your first draft is putting down the bones of the story, the second is figuring out where to lay the connective tissue. Maybe you've got too many bones, maybe you don't have enough. Maybe some of your bones are too short, or too misshapen to work. The second draft is getting that story skeleton together, knowing full well you're gonna need to fix some of those bones first.

Get yourself a plan to put that skeleton together - make an outline. I swear I'm not the sworn enemy of pantsers that i sometimes seem to be (it's professional jealousy, I swear), but if you don't have an outline, now is the time to get one. If you do, go back and revise that first. You'll want to know what you want the story to become from the pile of bones you're working from.

Not enough bones - identify what you're missing. If you're like me, sometimes while drafting you write 'figure this shit out later' and then forget to do so. Thanks for nothing, Past Me. But chances are your story needs some added scenes, more character development, etc. Identifying those missing pieces and fleshing out your outline can help you tackle a second draft.

Too many bones - figure out what needs to be cut. Not every scene is going to be worth keeping no matter how attached to them you are. If you're on the fence about a scene, consider if it serves to move the plot forward, develops the characters, or establishes important worldbuilding. If the scene meanders plotlessly, repeats character beats instead of expanding on them, or seems to suck the oxygen out of the story, you may have to rethink or remove them.

These bones don't fit - figure out what scenes are lacking. Another thing I tend to do in first drafts is sell my scenes short. I just don't think of the best outcome, the most dramatic climax, or a great setting when I'm trying to figure out what happens. In going through your novel, think about each scene carefully. Should this argument take place in a deserted library, or would it be more emotional and dramatic on a crowded train? If the villain's plot seems small, how can you make him a greater threat?

Uuuh bro that's not a human bone - revising scenes that went off the rails. If you're gearing up for NaNoWriMo yet again, you might know the feeling of writing pages of bullshit to make that wordcount. It could be good bullshit! It could be really fun! But if it sticks out like a sore thumb in the story, it may be best to set aside to figure out what to make out of it later.

You're not going to get everything right in the second draft either, so don't over-stress in trying to get your story whipped into shape. But you will be better off after giving those bones a little polish and assembling them into what could conceivably pass for a decent skeleton, one that you won't mind sharing with others to see what other work it might need. Good luck!

[skeleton-mischief]

Teeth

Just some Rus x Reader

CW: some suggestive stuff :-)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"You're a weirdo, y'know that right?” “Shhh, I'm not! I'm just curious, is all!” “mhm,”

Rus’ response was promptly cut off at the feeling of your hands touching his mouth. He had sharp teeth, uniquely shaped in comparison to the others inside the home. And, since you both are so comfortable with one another, you asked to explore them. Little weirdo.

He felt your hands prying his lower jaw open, the pad of your thumbs pressing against the tip of each edge of each special tooth. Your eyes were wide as you tilted your head and adjusted his skull to your will, his jaw slack so as to not accidentally bite down on you. “Hold still,”

He hums but does not listen, his eyes averted as he feels his head leaning into your hands. “Hey, I said hold still,” He once again hums, muttering, “m’sorry,” He lied, of course, only to feel your eyes glaring up at him half-heartedly. You went back to looking at his teeth as you traced an outline on the golden tooth he had, your eyes dilated.

He couldn't help but focus on those eyes of yours, your face, your touch. He didn't want to admit that he was quite comfortable with feeling your hands so close to his mouth, so he kept that weird feeling down. You were so pretty, he was starting to blush more heavily now.

Your other hand placed itself on his shoulder, your grip there to not accidentally fall into him as he patiently sat on the couch and you stood over him. “So cool,” he heard you mumble, and he couldn't help but snort as his shoulders were jostled.

His phalanges, as sharp as they were, barely dug into your skin as he was careful to hold them in place. His tongue rolled out and bumped against the softness of your flesh, and Rus swore he felt you flinch. He wasn't going to be so bold as to mess with you completely like Cash would, but it was tempting. He was too shy to do that though, and instead he grinned when you recoiled with a look of partial disgust.

“Ewww!”

He felt his smile form into a wider one as he suppressed laughing, if not only a little bit. He liked to mess with you, at least a little. He leaned forward, faking out that he was going to lick your face as you yanked your face away. “What's the matter, darlin', hm? Ya don't want a little lovin?” “Eugh- you're gross-! Wait- ew, don't you dare-!”

He snorted, and he knew that he distracted you enough to not notice how he had almost got too excited. Too excited. When he finally managed to lazily pull you closer with ease, he had already rolled his tongue back as the smell of maple and cigarettes pooled around the two of you. “Sorry, m'sorry,” He laughed, even if he only partially meant it. He didn't want you too mad at him now.

You weren't even commenting as he pulled you to sit on his lap, which he found delightful. He quickly wrapped you up inside his large, black coat as he felt you adjusting to straddle his legs as he leaned back onto the couch. “No you're not,” You huffed, which only let him snicker as a result.

“Well I do mean it, darlin', I do,” He replied, arms looped around you as he clung onto you, feeling your face not quite lean on him entirely due to your suspicion that he would probably try to lick you again. “Liar,” “only a little,” He finally got you to laugh a little at that, seeing your chest deflate as you let go of your half-hearted disgust. He liked to see that smile of yours, the unique way your lips curved and the way your teeth bared slightly.

“I knew it,” you claimed, and he simply hummed as he felt your hands move to comfortably drape over his chest. He reached for the remote, quick to throw something on as his eyes drifted away from looking at you so intently. He was happy that you were spending time with him today after being so distracted from the others, and even if he originally planned for something different to happen, he was happy that he got you to finally relax with him. He was a simple skeleton after all, no?

[ariadnes-red-thread]

Congrats on 150 followers, Aria! ✨💖💕✨ you deserve all of them and more!

My request is for a Fem!Reader or GN!Reader with Wolffe. The prompt is “I thought I lost you.”

Hiiii Vee! I'm so so sorry this took so long. I never forgot about it and I wrote most of it a long time ago but the ending just didn't feel right and I couldn't bring myself to rush it. I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for all of your love and support, darling!

Pairing: Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warning: NSFT *MINORS DNI*, Explicit sexual content, established relationship, Fingering, PiV sex

It had been almost two years since Order 66. Two years since you lost everything. The order, your master, your troops, and him. First, Master Plo fell on Cato Neimoidia. You’d only survived by sheer luck. Your own ship had malfunctioned that morning, and you’d been directing the 442nd and the 104th on the ground. After the battle ended, you ventured into the forests alone for a moment of peace. Instead, the order came down. Plo’s last call was to tell you to run and not look back. The staticky warning, followed by a vengeful rain of blaster fire from men you loved as brothers and more while you fled, still haunted your dreams.  After the battle, the 104th was torn apart and scattered among the Empire’s troops. You looked for a while after, even though you feared what you might find, but there was nothing left. No pieces to find or recover, no trail to follow. They were all gone. Even him. You told yourself that you’d long since given up hope. The focus was on the fight now, but deep within the well of your heart, you knew that wasn’t true. Hope still lurked in those murky shadows, and despite your best efforts to brick it in and let it suffocate in the rot deep within you, it crept out sometimes.

You felt its tendrils now, wrapping around your neck and squeezing. You steadied your breath, taking slow inhales and exhales as you tried to focus on the basics of the mission at hand. You counted the exits for the ninth time. There were five - six if you included the window, but that was a several-story fall that you preferred not to chance. You silently let your gaze fall to your blaster, aimed at the ready. You tilted it slightly so you could see the energy cell, the barrel never moving from its aim on the large doorway one level below. The cell was still full, just as it had been the last time you checked and the time before that.

“You good?” The comforting voice crackled over the comm and echoed in your ear, a welcome intrusion to your own thoughts even if you didn't appreciate the implication.

You let your eyes wander up the skeleton of the old building. Several levels above, you could just barely make out the captain’s outline. Rex was watching you from the shadows of the upper level of the abandoned maintenance center. Your contact chose the location, the abandoned GAR shipyard. You and Rex chose the building. It was a good location for a risky meeting. The middle of the building was hollow and large enough to house a transport ship, leaving plenty of space for hiding and good viewpoints. It helped that both you and Rex knew it well too. In another lifetime, you had walked it many times together and separately. Even now, as you looked up to where he was waiting in the shadows, you could almost see the ghosts of his brothers crawling, working, and laughing all around the rusted-out structure.

“Yeah, just tired of waiting.” You snapped back, your voice barely a whisper. “You sure this information is good?”

“Eh,” There was a muffled crackling in your ear as Rex shifted. “You heard the call. But how good is any of our information these days?”

You sighed. Rex didn’t have to put up with your testy attitude but he always did.

“Sorry, Rex.” 

“Nah, you’re alright.” The mic rustled as he shifted again. “I’m on edge too. It’s just…”

“I know.”

You both fell silent. You and Rex had been on edge since you got the call. It was an extraction request. It had been a long time science you’d gotten one of those. There weren't many clones left to rescue these days. Between the effectiveness of early missions, the elimination of the clone trooper from the Empire’s army, and the assassin program, it had been three months since Rex had heard anything about a clone trooper looking to be rescued.

Then, Senator Organa called late last night. He said he had it on good authority that an insider contact needed to be pulled out and fast. He couldn’t give any more information, only that they would be in the GAR shipyard at 0300, and their code word would be Khorm.

As soon as Bail said the word, you could feel Rex’s eyes on you, gazing over the blue haze of the holo. He waited until Bail hung up.

“It could be anyone.” The words fell halted from his lips as if he was arguing with himself. “Thousands of us fought on Khorm.”

“I know that, Rex.” You replied coolly. “Do you?”

That was the last either of you spoke of it. 

Now, Rex stayed silent on the comms, and despite wracking your brain for something to say, some way to make up for your coarse tone early, you couldn’t think of anything worth saying. It was probably better if you didn’t say anything anyways. You were never good with words. If you had been, you might have told… well that didn’t matter anymore.

Something moved in the shadows. Not a movement, you realized as you scanned the upper levels. A disturbance. You felt something in the force. Familiar but so far away. You searched the dark crevices, looking for anything that might have alerted your senses. Then you realized Rex was too quiet.

You swiftly scaled the scaffolding, moving with a speed and stealth that, if you thought too hard about it, would have reminded you of who you are… who you were. On silent feet and with your cloak wrapped close around you, you skirted around hanging equipment. You couldn't see Rex anymore, but you knew his last location.

You crouched in the darkness, staying low to the ground and keeping your back against the wall as you crept towards the corner where Rex had been. You kept your blaster trained out in front of you as you reached out through the Force, chasing that fleeting feeling from before.

You could sense Rex. He was still there and he was troubled. There was something else, a clouded presence, the same one you felt moments ago. It was near and that made you cautious. The darkness parted as you closed in on them. Endless shadows formed into shapes. You could see Rex again, but he was no longer alone.

Rex was kneeling, his hands resting on the back of his cloaked head and his elbows up in the air. Behind him stood a looming figure. Someone was waiting for you. Haar’chak, you silently cursed in Mando, a habit you picked up from the clones years ago. Dressed in black commando armor, a shrouded man stood with Rex’s blaster in one hand, pointing out into the darkness. He moved it every second or so as he scanned the shadows so he must not have spotted you yet. It was the second blaster that troubled you more. It was pointed directly at the back of Rex’s head.

You sized up the stranger. He was a clone trooper, or at least his armor belonged to one. Was this a set-up? You glanced at the carefully-mapped exits. No one else emerged. You couldn’t feel any other presence. It didn’t feel like a set-up. Not yet anyway. Before you could figure out your next move, the man moved first. His second weapon was suddenly trained on you.

“I see you.”

“Then you see my blaster.” You said, not moving from your crouch but tilting your head to ensure your hood shadowed your face. “Lower your weapon.”

“You’re no clone.” His modulated voice bit at you. So it was a clone beneath the armor, the accented mechanical voice was unmistakable. But something else rumbled deep in your chest. “This is an Empire trap. You lower your weapon, or your partner dies.”

Rex. Your heart stopped. You couldn’t see the Captain’s face under his hood, but you could guess at his expression. Stubborn and defiant. You couldn’t risk his life. You would do anything not to risk his life. You released the trigger on your blaster and held it up in the air.

“No trap.” You had to convince this man you were friendly, whether that was true or not. “Fulcrum.”

He tilted his helmet at the safe word. He waited for a moment, shifting just slightly as he decided whether or not he trusted you.

“Khorm.”

You tried not to flinch at the safe word as you holstered your weapon in a show of good faith. It almost sounded dangerously familiar as it left the shadowed man’s lips.

“Bail sent us.” You nodded to Rex, who was still held at gunpoint. “We’re here to get you out.”

Not quite satisfied, the fugitive clone trooper reached for Rex and slipped the cloak off of his head. His blonde hair shown in the light of the moons and his face was just as stubborn as you’d imagined it would be. Still, the fugitive extended an arm, and Rex accepted it.

“Should have guessed it would be you, Rex’ika.” The clone chuckled. “I always could get the drop on you.”

Your heart seized. There was no denying it now. And even if you had wanted to, the clone stripped his own helmet from his head. Two eyes, one a deep pooling brown, and the other pale and cybertronic met yours.

Your hand flashed to your blaster. It couldn’t be him. This was a trap. Your cloak fell away with the sudden motion. The world threatened to tilt, spinning around you. Only the cool durasteel felt solid and steady as you clasped the gun.

“Cyare.” Wolffe whispered, his voice instantly choked.

Your weapon slipped from grip, its clatter echoing against the empty walls.

…

Rex had long since gone to bed, sleep overtaking him as soon as you were safe on the ship. You and Wolffe sat in the hull of the ship with only a bottle of whiskey and a table between the two of you, but even as you talked into the late hours of the morning, the space felt impossible to breach. He danced around his own story all evening with an evasiveness that you hadn't felt from him since the early days of the war. The way Wolffe pressed you for stories of the rebellion reminded you of your first conversations when he would ask you a thousand and one questions about the temple and being a Jedi, all to avoid talking about himself. You didn’t mind. You just wanted to talk to him back then. Now, you could see through him.

“Wolffe,” You raised an eyebrow at him as you topped off both of your glasses. “You’re going to hear all about the rebels and then some. Where have you been? What happened? What changed?”

He sighed, looking away from you for the first time in hours. It was just for a second before he turned back to you, but you ached in that brief eclipse of a moment. His eyes locked back on yours, and he watched you as he raised the glass and tilted the warm liquor down his throat. He emptied the glass, his tongue darting out to run along his full lower lip. You waited, never flinching under his stare. Finally, he gave you a small smile and a shrug.

“It took a while, but my mind… it slowly cleared. It was too late to do anything. The Jedi were dead, the Wolfpack was gone. I almost couldn’t bear it.” His head hung as his voice became graveled. “Cody tried to get me out at first.” Cody’s alive?, You started at the revelation but Wolffe didn’t notice. “Wanted me to leave with him after we realized what was happening. But I thought, if you were gone, I had nothing else. Nothing besides getting out as many brothers as I could, and pulling the Empire apart from the inside out.”

“I worked with Bail for a long time, passing information to rebels, sabotaging missions.” He raised his head to look at you again. His eyes were narrowed and his words were hushed, as if he was afraid the Empire was still in the room with you. “You know how Bail is - plays his cards close to his chest, that one - but he let something slip one day. That there were Jedi still alive, still in the fight, and I tried not to hope, but I couldn’t help it. It started to eat away at me. Bail never let anything slip about Jedi again, but I knew I had to get out and find out for certain.”

“What made you think it was me?” A shiver went down your spine. He knew and he looked for you.

“I just knew…” His inscrutable face tilted and something twisted deep in your gut. “I knew if there was any chance you were alive, you would still be fighting.”

He looked for you, the truth hit you like a Venator. And you had given up on him a long time ago. Shame burned your cheeks even as the awe of what Wolffe had fought through brought tears to your eyes.

“If there was even a chance you were alive, I had to look. I didn't ask Bail. I knew he couldn’t tell me, so I just asked for an extraction. Said I was done. I never, not in my wildest moments of hope, dreamed you’d be the one to save me.” Wolffe cleared his throat. “I don’t deserve it. Not after… not after I tried to kill you. Not after Plo.”

His eyes fell and his hand trembled around the empty glass. It was the first time he’d said your master’s name. You reached for his hand. He jerked at your touch, pulling away from you, but you chased him, tugging his hand back into your grasp and finally crossing the chasm between you.

“That wasn’t you, Wolffe.” Your voice was quiet. You didn’t want to startle him, not while you finally were holding his hand in yours again. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver to your core as you ran your thumb over his rough palm. 

“It might as well have been.” The scorn in his voice was cutting. “If I’d been in the air or if he’d been on the ground, I would’ve taken that shot. I can’t hide from that.”

“It was Palpatine. All of it was.” You moved to clasp his broad hand in both of yours, “I know you, Wolffe.”

He returned your grasp as his achingly familiar fingers dug into your skin.

“I missed you, cyare.” Wolffe finally met your eyes again. His brow was soft in the dimly lit ship and the gentleness in his look was a sharp contrast to the hungry way his hands gripped yours. “I thought you were dead and that I would never be able to tell you…”

Your heart fluttered. He raised his free hand to your face, tracing along your hairline and down your jaw until his palm came to rest on your cheek. You tilted your head to rest into his palm, your breath light and rushed at his sudden closeness.

“I love you.” Wolffe finally said. “I always have. Even when I thought you were gone and there was nothing I could ever do to see you again. That love stayed with me, the thought of you was like a spark. It spurred me to find Bail, to get my brothers out. I just knew I had to be the man that you always saw in me.”

Tears slipped out from behind your eyes. It was far too late. You should have said all this and more years ago but all you feel was grateful that you could say it now. 

“I love you too, Wolffe.” You tried not to choke on the words.  “I always have. I should have looked harder. I should have torn the Empire apart for you.”

“We’ll tear them apart together now, cyare.” With a large thumb, he brushed the tears from your cheek.

You stood. Without another word or releasing the hand you still held, you pulled him towards your cabin. He followed like a shadow, just skirting your look but never more than a step behind you. 

When the blast door shut behind you, you spun to face him. For a moment, time stood still. You were closer now than you had been in a long time. He looked the same but the few years apart were still evident on both of your faces. Small lines and scars had etched themselves along his skin, and you could see his eyes tracing maps of the slight newness in you. But, despite the differences, the look in his umber orbs hadn’t changed at all. Cool and calm and, yet, still endless hungry. 

You stepped towards him, closing the distance between you. Wolfe lifted a hand to your waist and then stilled, as if he was afraid any other movement would startle you away. Your breath became slow as gravity tugged you towards his lips. You raised a palm to his stubbled cheek and pressed yourself to him. Your lips found his softly at first. Gentle, chaste kisses passed between you as you relearned the taste of him. His lips molded perfectly to yours still, as if he had kissed you every day for the last year. Then, as your mouth slid open and his tongue found yours, it all came rushing back; the way his heart beat against your chest, the heat of his heavy breath mixing with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs. Your teeth clashed as the kiss became anything but gentle. Both of his hands found your waist and fingertips dug into your flesh. You were used to Wolffe leaving marks. His grip had always been strong, and you liked the reminders when you were on separate missions, it was like he still held your body. Now, his hold was different. It was desperate. He clung to you as though he might lose you. And you held onto him the same way as your arms snaked around his neck.

Somehow in the tangle of limbs, you managed to guide him backwards to your bed. Gently pulling him down, his weight landed on you in a way that you had ached for on long and lonely nights. Wolffe broke your kiss for a moment. He stood at the edge of the bed, leveraging his position to find the hem of your shirt and strip it from your body. He turned his furious attention to your pants, tugging them off and tossing them aside. Wolffe bit his lip as his eyes skirted over your naked form. You reached up for him, tugging at his own shirt, silently begging him to join you. 

“I missed you,” Wolffe murmured, desperation edging into his voice as he pulled his shirt over his head.

His pants went next and your breath caught in your throat. His body was every inch as perfect as you remember. Study shoulders, the left one tattooed, his broad chest, strong legs, and his hard member already swollen and throbbing, all for you. 

Wolffe was back on you before you could reply. Any words, any thoughts at all became a low, pathetic mewl that left your parted lips as he found your neck. His mouth traced over your bare skin, pressing smoldering kisses to your flesh. His weathered and battle-worn hands weaved their way through your fingers and pinned your arms above your head as he found your chest. Wolffe nipped and licked at the soft flesh, raising your skin and bringing your nipples to sensitive points. His lips wrapped around one bud as he released your hands so he could tease the other with slow, gentle circles. 

“Wolffe.” You moaned as you writhed beneath him already. 

His hand dropped lower, tracing its way down your skin and leaving a trail of pearled flesh. Wolffe followed the crease of your hip until he brushed up against your lower lips. He softly teased your entrance for a moment before a singular thick finger sunk into your molten core. You bucked into his hand at the touch, another lewd moan escaping you.

Your vision clouded as Wolffe added a second finger and began to slowly fuck you with his hand. His eyes never left your face, his pupils dark and blown as he watched you come apart beneath him. His thumb found your sensitive mound and you cried out.

“I need you. Please.” You begged, desperate to feel all of him.

“Gods, I missed the way you taste.” Wolffe grinned as he slipped his hand from inside you and brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean. Then he captured your lips again with a promise. “Later.”

You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as Wolffe flashed a shadow of his playful side. There was so much you missed about him. So much time to make up for. Quickly though, your mind went blank with need again as Wolffe slotted the tip of his member at your soaking entrance. 

“Slowly,” you whispered to him as he began to press in. “It’s been a long time.”

Wolffe nodded, and you noticed a small breath of relief.  

“I won’t last.” He warned through gritted teeth.

“Me either.” You ran a hand along his brow, fingers dancing across bronzed skin, grazing top of the long silver scar and trailing down his cheek.

Wolffe pressed his lips against yours again. Your tongues intertwined as he inched forward slowly, entering you. He moved in sync with your body, letting you adjust to every advance before he pushed again. Finally, he sheathed himself fully within you with a throaty groan. You clenched, an involuntary reaction to how full he made you. His fingertips dug into your hips at the small movement and a whimper left Wolffe’s lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He muttered. 

“Okay, okay,” Any pain had passed and you were quickly becoming desperate again. “Please move. Please fuck me”

All of Wolffe’s restraint snapped at your plea. His thick cock dragged across your center as he thrusted into you. You canted your hips up to meet him, any pain now replaced by a heavenly stretch that made you pulse around him. His head fell to your neck and his lips latched onto the hollow along your collarbone. You reached for him, gripping a hand into his curls as you began to tremble beneath him. His thumb found your clit, drawing rough circles and sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core.

Finally and still all too quickly, the chord in your belly snapped and you came around him, shaking and crying out. Wolffe followed you, emptying himself inside you with one last thrust.

Hours later, when the sun was surely high in the sky, but you never raised the blinds and Rex had the good decency not to knock, you traced the tattooed star map of the Abregado system. It started on his chest, over his heart, and trailed down his left shoulder to his bicep. He’d had the tattoo as long as you’d known him, and you found that every line was still etched into your memory. His eyes fluttered as you traced the ink. For a moment, this could have been any night. Master Plo could still be alive. His brothers could be in their own bunks outside the door, waiting to tease you both as they helped you sneak back to your quarters. But it wasn’t. You’d lost all that. Somehow though, you’d found each other.

“I can’t believe this.” Wolffe finally spoke as if he could hear the inner workings of your mind. He murmured into the top of your head, his hand trailing down the bare skin of your waist. “I thought I lost you.”

“Never.” You whispered as you clung to him. “You always have me.”

[ckret2]

Hi there! I used to read your radiosnake fics religiously a few years ago and the lore you created for them was just so perfect imo I could never find any authors that scratched the same itch for me personally. I stumbled back upon your work again after watching the new show so I hope you don’t mind me asking about your older work - I was just wondering, if you were to write a sequel to CDIH would it feature Al and Pen rekindling some sort of friendship or romance? I know it would probably take a heck of a slowburn but I’m interested to know where you would’ve taken that story

I've got people following me for a fanfic I posted in 2008, I'm always happy to talk about older work.

I had a skeleton of a sequel outlined that I put on hold to wait to see what the show was like (and it's gonna stay on hold until I finish my current fic and am free to switch my primary fandom), but yeah, the goal was a slowburn reconciliation that leads back to romance.

90% of it would be dedicated to working Alastor around to the point where he decides a relationship is something he wants to choose for himself, rather than something he's unwillingly being forced into by his own treacherous heart.

After a betrayal like that, no big gestures nor lavish gifts nor daring rescues can win Sir Pent back. Big gestures and lavish gifts and daring rescues are cheap and easy for the Radio Demon—and he already gave Sir Pent plenty of those things back before he backstabbed him, so they can't be trusted. Theatrics and heroics are completely useless here. There's only one thing that could possibly win Pent over again:

~*emotional vulnerability*~

The only way back to where they were is by addressing and fixing the root cause of why things fell apart in the first place, and the root cause is Alastor being a cagey lone wolf who's scared of commitment and afraid of his own feelings. He's gotta be a big boy, honestly explain why he did what he did, and state in words what he actually wants now.

Which seems so small and easy. But we're talking about Alastor, here. He's not about to do something crazy like offer vulnerability and honesty until he's already tried and discarded literally every single other Hollywood-approved romantic gesture he can think of, up to and including attempting to win back all Sir Pent's lost turf as some sort of ridiculous courting gift. (It doesn't work. He takes it as an insult. "You don't think I can win it back myself?!" well, the past fifty years suggest no, but—)

In keeping with the theme of "it's Cold Day In Hell part 2, but it's a slow burn, so it's much longer," the tentative title of the fic would be Cold Wave.