#maybe i will expand on this later if i can manage to put the words together

[bisexualjohnseed]

My Hot Take Of The Day is that a lot of people see the Seeds as how they see/portray themselves and not as how they actually are

[sixhours]

Morning Sickness

Rating: Teen Word count: 1.2k

Notes: Post-ep for season 11. That “season finale” inspired me to try to make sense of the nonsense, and maybe give Mulder and Scully a chance to start to deal with the shit they’ve been dragged through.

Originally posted to AO3, Mar. 26 2018

It's dawn when Mulder shifts the car into park. A drizzle mists the windshield, muddying the house’s looming form, the dim glow of the porch light their only welcome. Next to him, Scully sleeps deeply, his jacket tucked into the crook of her neck.

He reaches across the console to touch her cheek. "We're home."

She stirs, blinking, before fumbling at the door handle in a rush. She's out of the car before he can offer to help, making her way to the house. He watches with concern as she pauses at the foot of the steps, leaning on the porch railing for a moment as if to catch her breath, before disappearing around the side of the house. He winces when he hears retching.

Skinner was going to make it, they said; a lumbar spinal fracture and two broken legs meant he had a long recovery ahead, but he was alive.

Reyes hadn't been so lucky. Mulder found her slumped in the driver's seat of Spender's car, blood pooling in the corner of her eye. Scully had moaned softly behind him, turned, vomited bile onto the pavement.

It wasn't until later that he remembered; Reyes had delivered William, had held him as he'd taken his first breath.

Mulder shudders, stumbling forward to check on Scully, finds her crouched over the overgrown garden. There's a lone rhubarb stalk struggling to greet the day, leaves beaded with rain, a survivor among the bittercress and chickweed.

"You OK?" he asks, feeling helpless.

"I need to eat," she murmurs, standing. "The nausea is worse if I don't."

He reaches for her hand, takes it, guides them inside. She shrugs off her coat, then ducks into the bathroom and closes the door.

Mulder stands in the kitchen, unsure where to begin. It had felt good -- too good -- to put aside reason, to put his finger on the trigger, aim, and let the bullets do the rest. He thinks of gunpowder residue and blood spatter, pushes up his sleeves and scrubs his hands until they're raw.

When that's done, he opens the fridge. She needs to eat. Bread, lettuce, turkey; this, he can manage. As he works, he doesn't think about the water lapping at the dock, doesn't think about watching himself fall backwards, doesn't think about the bullet lodged between his son's eyes.

He cuts the sandwich in half and sets it on the table with a glass of milk. She doesn't like milk, but it's good for the baby, right?

The baby. Christ.

He sinks into a chair as the weight of the day hits him. When she comes out, bathrobe cinched around her waist, he's staring at the table with his head propped in his hands.

"Thank you," she murmurs, sitting down, picking up half the sandwich and taking a small bite. Her expression is distant and closed, the dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. It's a long time before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice is almost inaudible.

"I had a...a vision," she murmurs, sipping her milk. "I saw William."

Mulder's pulse throbs, a glimmer of hope expanding in his chest. "You...he's alive? You're sure?"

She nods, avoiding his eyes. Bite, chew, swallow, sip. Repeat.

"How...?" he leans forward.

"I don't know," she sighs.

"If it's true, there's still a chance we could find him," Mulder says, thinking aloud. "We could--"

"Mulder, stop. Not now, I can't..." She trails off, ducking her chin, and he thinks of the warmth of her stomach against his blood-flecked palm. "He can't be another quest. You have to let him go."

Mulder swallows. "But...he's alive."

She nods, pushing the plate back. "He's weak, but he's safe. For now."

"Then he'll find us," he says, more to himself than to her. "Someday. When he's ready."

She presses her lips together. When she answers, her voice is hollow. "I'm going to bed."

"Scully..."

But she's already on her feet, moving toward the stairs. He watches her go, feeling lost, unmoored.

He's alive.

Mulder wraps the untouched half of the sandwich and puts it in the fridge, pours the leftover milk in the sink.

He finds her in the upstairs bathroom, staring into the mirror, her reflection haunted and pale. Steaming water runs into the basin, unnoticed.

"Scully?"

She startles, meeting his eyes before reaching for a cloth, but doesn't answer.

"Talk to me, Scully," he says, wishing for a church, for the ease they found over a prayer candle.

"Everything," she frowns, rubbing at her face with the cloth until the freckles across her nose burn pink. "Everything I tried to prevent for him, everything -- it came true."

She dabs lotion on her chin, under her eyes, punctuating each word with angry, jerky movements. "I lived with the guilt of his adoption, but there's nothing I could have done," she says, turning and striding past him to stuff the cloth into the hamper. "I never had a choice."

"Scully--"

"They used me, Mulder," she whirls on him, voice rising. "They used my body to make monsters. And I loved them, and they were taken from me. How can I bring another child into the world with that on my conscience? What hope do I have of keeping them safe, when everything that's come before has been ripped from my hands?"

She breaks off, her breath ragged, swiping at the corners of her eyes.

"What they did to you is unforgivable," he says, approaching her. "But this...this is different. You have a choice."

"I can't do it again," she breathes, eyes pressed shut. "Damnit, Mulder. It's not fair."

"No. No, it's not. But you don't have to do it alone," he whispers, taking her face in his palms, searching her eyes. "Do you want this, Scully?"

"I do," she says, her voice cracking as the tears pool in the whorls of his thumbs. "I do, so much. But I wish I didn't."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. "So we'll make it work."

He imagines he can feel her eye-roll against his chest, but she softens. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that. I'll trade in the Mustang for a minivan, we'll get a Baby Björn--"

She sniffs. "What the fuck is a Baby Björn?"

"I have no idea," he admits, chuckling. "But if the number of missed calls on my phone from Kersh is any indication, we'll have a lot of free time to figure that out."

"I'm fifty-four, Mulder," she sighs, her voice small.

"And your breasts will be the envy of every grandma at the AARP."

She barks a laugh into his chest, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as her laughter dissolves into a sob. He nuzzles the hair at her temple, kisses it, sways with her until the storm passes.

"What can I do?" he murmurs when her breathing has calmed.

"Just...hold me."

"That's what got us into this mess," he says, nudging her cheek with his nose, eliciting a tired smile. He pulls back the covers and follows her into bed, pulling her back against his chest. His fingers trace the line of her hip.

Tentatively his hand slides forward to her abdomen, barely touching, asking permission. She places her palm over his in answer, pressing down, guiding him to the spot just above her pubic bone where a gentle swell has already formed. He swallows hard, overcome with love and sadness and fatigue.

"I don't have it in me to hope for this, Mulder," she murmurs, her voice rough.

He kisses her cheek, whispering a prayer to the nape of her neck. "Sleep. I'll find enough hope for the both of us."

[earako]

Ughhh okay this idea won't leave, short form for now may expand on it later

-/-

It wasn't fair.

"Ambrosius..."

It just wasn't fair.

"Love, you're being dramatic."

"You're not being dramatic enough," Ambrosius shot back, aiming a totally-not-a-pout at his -totally-not-laughing-at-him boyfriend. His not-pout deepened at Ballister trying and failing to calm down his snorting laughter

"It's really not that serious," Ballister managed to finally get out through his laughter. Ambrosius shook his head at him.

"It is that serious, Bal! This is is like, a right of passage for couples!" Ambrosius exclaimed, almost slapping Ballister with his own hoodie sleeve.

Although Ballister was the slightly shorter one of the pair his clothing was always just a little bit oversized on Ambrosius. Not enough for Ambrosius to look like he was swimming in Ballister's hoodies, just enough to look baggy on Ambrosius' frame.

He loved wearing Ballister's hoodie, of course it could never beat the real thing, but during the few days or nights were duties [a.k.a rebuilding an entire bloody society] kept them apart Ballister's hoodie felt like a warm embrace and smelled of home.

To put it in less poetic terms, wearing Ballister's clothing made Ambrosius feel safe and loved.

And he wanted to do the same with Ballister.

Too bad Ambrosius shoulders said no.

Now, Ambrosius was aware that Ballister was more broad shouldered than he was, but he figured his hoodies could stretch and they tended to sit pretty loosely on him. So when Ballister relinquished on of his hoodies to Ambrosius Ambrosius took off his own hoodie and offered it to Ballister.

It didn't fit.

It couldn't even get over Ballister's shoulders.

Ballister of course, shrugged it off, but to Ambrosius this was the height of unfairness and, "Stop laughing, Ballister!" Ambrosius said, pulling his giggling boyfriend into his arms and beginning to pepper his face in kisses. "You wanna laugh? Fine, I'll give you a reason to laugh!" Ballister shrieked in glee as he was lovingly assulted with kisses all over his face, nose, neck, hands.

"What's gotten into you today?" Ballister asked though breathless giggles. Ambrosius managed to answer him through his little kiss attack.

"You always let me steal your hoodies. You also deserve the boyfriend hoodie experience."

"Am- lover it's not your fault I have big ass shoulders."

"Still wanna see in my hoodie," Ambrosius pouted into a kiss he placed on the hollow of Ballister's neck. He felt a puff of air above him, most likely Ballister sighing.

"If it means that much to you, you ridiculous man, we can figure something out. Does seeing me in your clothes mean that much to you?"

"Immensely."

"Alright then."

The next day the couple went rifling through Ambrosius closet, surely there had to be something large enough to fit Ballister.

After what felt like hours of digging Ambrosius finally found an old, stretched out, oversized sweater he used in his teen years. Back then when Ambrosius was feeling lazy in the winter months he'd just throw on two or three sweaters instead of trying to move around in his bulky winter coat.

He looked at the sweater, then at Ballister. He grabbed his boyfriend's ankle and dragged him over, earning a yelp and a startled "AMBROSIUS!"

Without a word, and really just Ballister being an indulgent boyfriend, Ambrosius bundled Ballister into his old sweater.

He sat back to admire his handiwork.

It fit over Ballister's shoulders alright. It actually managed to look baggy on him, the sleeves entirely covered Ballister's hands and if he were standing Ambrosius imagined the hem would fall to maybe just past Ballister's mid thigh.

Suddenly, those t.v shows and movies his classmates watched where the boyfriend would just stare at his girlfriend wearing his shirt made sense.

The baggy sweater combined with Ballister's doe eyes and the blush on his face...

"Adorable." Ballister's blush deepened. "You're biased-hey!" Another shriek emerged from Ballister as Ambrosius dove to cuddle his boyfriend nuzzling his face into his lovers chest.

"Adorable, Bal. So cute. So pretty. Love you."

"Not another kiss attack!" Ballister groaned though he only laughed and reached up to hug Ambrosius closer to him.

Through the numerous kisses Ambrosius was littering him with, Ballister finally managed to ask, "So...we fair on the boyfriend hoodie thing?" Ambrosius paused in his kisses and stared down at Ballister with a cheeky grin.

"Nope!"

"Wait what-"

"Need to buy some over sized hoodies, gonna wear em for a week then put them on you!"

"Am- you are a ridiculous, silly man do you know that?" Ambrosius leaned up to place a kiss on Ballister's nose.

"I'm -you're- ridiculous, silly man."

[vivalarevolution]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷

Robb Stark x Targaryen Reader

Request: „Hi! Hope you're having a great day, if you don't mind, please could you write a robb stark x reader?‟

„can you do just a fluffy oneshot with robb where reader thought he was dead (they were betrothed and in love so reader was like still in mourning even tho it's been months since he died) and turns out he survived the Red Wedding along with Grey Wind and they just have this super fluffy and teary reunion and later that day reader just wanted to cuddle robb and never let go hope that makes sense!‟

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for Robb Stark. I put two requests together in this story from anons I hope you as well as them gonna like it. 

English is not my native language so I am sorry for any mistakes.

*Thoughts, memories, and other languages are written in bold italics.

He was standing in front of her. Safe and sound, and above all... alive.

She looked at him with a shadow of tears in her violet eyes. Her hands, cold and trembling, held his neck like a lifeline, helping her not to drown in the ocean of bitterness and despair. The man held her near him, wanting to have her as close as possible, never wanting to let go, his hands gripping the material of the white-haired woman coat. In a silent act, conveying the care he wanted to soothe the heart of the dragon princess.

But nothing was able to help her.

-I beg you- she whispered on the verge of hysteria -I beg you, Robb, don't agree to Lord Frey's proposal. I can not loose you.

-You will not loose me. I am yours and you are mine, now, until the end of our days -he replied kissing her forehead lovingly.

-I don't want the end of your days to end tomorrow night, I won't let it happen - the woman said firmly- The people of Westeros are manipulative, wherever they go, they look for a chance. To use, to take and...

-I am the king of the north, but I am also a man of honor - Stark tried to explain to her, running his large hands over her soft skin.

-My father was a king - the young Targaryen drawled through her teeth - He saw people as traitors, unconsciously creating them himself. He paid for it with life, not only his but also his children. Don't make the same mistake.

-I will attend this wedding - said the brunette, sticking to his sentence - You should go there with me, as the future queen of the north - he added, more quietly, even though the two lovers were alone anyway.

-In the morning, me and Jaelarys return to Essos - she announced to Robb's surprise. -Dany want to discuss further expanding our alliances in here. I can't keep her waiting.

-So you're leaving me?- the northman asked, trying to hide the pain in his voice.

-I haven't seen my sister in over six months -Y/n said, offended -I want to see if she's safe, I have to. She may need me.

-I need you - replied her lover.

-Now you're the king of the north - the violet-eyed whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth -Maybe when I come back, you'll be the king of all seven kingdoms -she added, connecting their foreheads.

She said this words trying to hide her anger, preferring to leave rather than listen, not knowing at the time that that conversation was their last.

Or so she thought.

-Gaomagon ao gīmigon bisa vala,mandia? (Do you know this man, sister?) Daenerys asked, waking the princess from her thoughts.

-Kessa (Yes) - she managed to say - Īles se Dārys hen Jelmor (He was the king of the north) - she added more quietly.

-Oh- only came out of Taragryen's mouth- I thought Robb Stark...died -she admitted surprised, trying to choose her words carefully in front of her already emotionally sensitive sister.

Y/n thought so too. Her grief and sadness knew no bounds since they had been awakened by the news of the death of Young Wolf, her beloved Robb.

-I'd like to talk to the king in private - the silver-haired woman confessed after a while, feeling her last particles of stability starts slipping between her fingers.

-Of course- queen of Dragonstone replied, sounding soothing and warm, wanting to reassure her sister from a distance.

The violet-eyed princess left the throne room without hesitation and, to the surprise of the oldest of the Starks, did not even looked at him. Her footsteps were quick and hard, each one bouncing off the stone walls of the castle.

She didn't have to turn around. She knew the man was following her, even if he didn't know where she was leading him.

When she was sure that no one would interrupt their conversation, only then did her footsteps stop.

As she turned around, Robb was able to take a close look at the changes that had taken place during their separation. Once full of joy and feisty face changed to a colder, almost indifferent expression. The eyes were more faded, deep down drowning in the sadness that Y/n had experienced.

Looking at her ,broke his heart and filled him with anger at the same time. It was because of him that the young woman found herself in this position, because he didn't listen, because he didn't came earlier but four years later, when instead of the stubborn girl for whom he was so crazy, he found her shadow.

Stark's first instinct was to embrace her fragile form, so he did exactly that. Taking her body to himself, he covered it with thick, black fur and wrapped his arms around it.

Y/n felt as if for the first time in a very long time she could breathe fully, as if her lungs were finally filled with the air necessary to survive. Her hands disappeared into the brunette's coat, holding on tightly, not wanting to let go.

-I should have listened - the northman said after a while -I should have been wiser...

-Robb, don't - the young Targaryen interrupted him, placing one of her hands on his chest, then lifting her head and staring into his blue irises -We can't change the past. What happened… I really thought I lost you - she confessed, the first tears in her eyes.

-They killed everyone...my mother begged them to spare me but in response they slit her throat and stuck a dagger in me- he replied bitterly, clenching his hands on Daenerys sister's waist -I thought it was my end. But Greywind found my body, dragged me to some hut. The old lady must have been terrified when she saw me, but she helped me anyway.

-It wouldn't be wise to ignore the king of the north and his direwolf -Y/n stated, and Stark smiled at the hint of sarcasm in her mouth that he loved so much -She saved you and I'm glad she did, especially when...- halfway through, she frowned ,putting on a serious face, it was obvious that she wanted to confess something.

-Princess - one of the maidservants suddenly interjected -Rhaella woke up from her nap, she's fussy. I believe she's calling for her mother.

Y/n left her former lover's arms at the words about her child. Smiling gently at the Dothraki woman, she nodded her head in understanding.

Watching as she leaves in the only direction she knew, the violet-eyed woman looked at the man out of the corner of her eye.

-Robb, I know a lot has been dumped on your shoulders, but I think you should meet someone - she announced quietly -It's important.

Northman at first thought he had misheard. 

That it wasn't about Y/n. Then the thought of a new dragon crept into his mind, but when he stood in the doorway of the chambers, he knew exactly who Rhaella was.

The young Targaryen with natural delicacy lifted the toddler up, cradling her in her arms, thus soothing her. The girl was a copy of her mother, inheriting every trait of the dragon bloodline.

Walking slowly towards the brunet, she involuntarily clenched her hands on the child harder, not knowing how he would react.

-Is she mine?- whispered the blue-eyed man, gliding his hand over the girl's ruddy cheek.

-Yes - the princess replied simply.

Y/n woke up in the middle of the night. Half of her bed was empty, causing her to awakening instantly. Where was Robb? Was it another nightmare, or was she slowly starting to lose her mind?

Her eyes quickly scanned the room. They finally found a man who held her heart in an iron grip.

Targaryen rose carefully from the bed, approaching him quietly. The king from the north greeted her, wrapping his arm around her body so she could shamelessly take his warmth for herself.

-Why aren't you sleeping?- she asked softly, kissing his jaw.

-I couldn't sleep - he replied, staring at the sea outside the window.

-Are you sure it's just sleep problems?- the princess asked, seeing the change in Stark after seeing his daughter.

-I...- he began, but couldn't finish, grabbing the stone balustrade, squeezing his hand around it -I can't stop thinking what would have happened if you hadn't flown away that morning and stayed with me. If you had participated in this carnage - he whispered, looking at Rhaella sleeping, unaware of anything.

-You didn't know, nobody knew that I was with child - the young woman admitted - The news of your death resulted in too much stress, my body couldn't stand it. Then I found out I was pregnant. You couldn't have known Robb - she assured, stroking his back.

-How can you be so calm, so forgiving? - he asked confused, looking at her like a lost child rather than a king.

-Because I can't stay stuck in the past any longer. I can't think what if. This world won't let me, I have to push forward not only for myself, but for people who need me Robb, you should do the same - Y/n stated, after a moment she kissed his lips lovingly.

-I love you my queen - he murmured, cupping her face in his hands.

-And I love you my king - replied Daenerys' sister, closing her eyes -Now and forever.

-Now and forever - Stark repeated, connecting their foreheads.

The impending war was at their feet, but tonight, at this moment, only their feelings and sensations mattered. Their touches of hands and brushes of lips. Their song of ice and fire. The Wolf and the Dragon.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @ciriceart! They have sixteen works under the Stranger Things tag and ten under the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag over on Archive of our Own!!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following of their works by CultOfAdoration:

I get this feeling I'm in motion

Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty

a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with

to have everything you can see

They care alot about capturing the accurate voice of the characters they write about, and put lots of thought and care into character motivations and worldbuilding :} - anonymous

Below the cut, @ciriceart answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I just like the dynamic, and getting to write dialogue and think about conflicts that might naturally crop up between the two. I don’t think that there was a chance for them to get along well at all if not for the kids dragging them both into the end of the world, so it’s kind of fun to find different ways for them to get past it. Less of a “they would never get together” and more of a “under what circumstances would they get together” situation.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I think I just like anything that falls into character study or backstory development. I used to eat up anything under the hurt/comfort or angst tags as well, and those can all go pretty well together. Anything that even vaguely evokes Orpheus and Eurydice is also pretty much guaranteed to get my attention.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Slow burn. A lot of my writing never sees the light of day (or outside groupchats), but a majority of it is “will they, won’t they” slow burn with the two kind of dancing around the subject until it feels inevitable.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m not sure if I have a singular favorite fic. “New York Hardcore” by CaptainHoney is pretty high up there. It’s part of a larger series, but that first entry stuck with me. The tag “Steve deserves to be happy and go ham in the moshpit” is the truest statement I’ve ever read about that man.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been working on a sort-of AU road trip fic about Steve, Jonathan, and later a hitchhiking Eddie, as they go cross-country. It’s very “right person, wrong place, wrong time”. Right now it’s just a big mess of notes and writing sprints, though.

What is your writing process like?

Almost everything starts off as scribbles in a notebook/Notes app, or taken down in notes app using speech-to-text on my phone. I always have to do the worst version first or it just doesn't feel right. Everything I want to be included gets thrown in there with very little regard for eloquence or order. From there, I break everything down into bullet points that I can expand on whenever I have time, and move things around into chronological order.

Do you have any writing quirks?

There are some words that I feel like I overuse. Things like “definitely”, “just”, and “very”, which reflects my real life speech habits.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I try holding off posting until I’m finished if only because it feels SO bad if I don’t manage to complete something. It doesn’t usually work. I get excited, so usually I end up starting to post when things are maybe 60% finished. Schedules remind me too much of school to be fun.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I don’t think I have one I’m most proud of, but I don’t have one that I’m not proud of either. “a good age to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with” is one that I thought a lot about and still think about, even though it’s pretty short. I only posted it very recently, but I wrote it shortly after Vol. 2 when thinking too hard about Robin and what her personal life might be like after everything.

How did you get the idea for Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

I thought it would be interesting to explore the two of them fumbling through kink and figuring things out in a more organic way. It’s something I always find quite cute, and it feels more natural to me when they’re not exactly well versed in the ins and outs of “proper” kink etiquette and terminology. 

I’m also a Dom-leaning switch Steve truther and I’m out here in the trenches. 

When writing to have everything you can see, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response to it from readers, mostly. I had several people letting me know that the subject matter is more outside of their usual interests but that they ended up enjoying it and seeing the appeal regardless. That’s a pretty big compliment to me because I’m somewhat in the same boat.

What inspired to have everything you can see?

So, when I don’t share an interest with others, I get really heavily invested in why they like that thing, or how the interest came about. It could be about anything - books, music, shows, ships, spirituality, kinks. I just like to Know, I like “getting it”. 

I wrote that fic to understand “under what circumstances would this be A Thing for this character” in a somewhat judgment free zone. Just going right the hell into it like “alright, this is what these characters are into. Make it believable and make it fun”. It works!

What was your favorite part to write from I get this feeling I'm in motion?

I think it’s the implication of how routine hangouts like that are, with Steve and Robin. They go to her house, they get snacks and drinks, and they immediately make themselves comfortable in her room. There’s something really sweet about a best friend making themselves at home in your house, and just existing beside you.

How do/did you feel writing Rule Me Captive, Drain Me Empty?

Nervous! I get really in my head about how I go about things at first. Am I being too needlessly verbose? Too much exposition? Do people even care about all the pointless errands they’re going on, or should we just get right to the bedroom?

But then I calm down and figure, I’m having fun writing about Steve intentionally dragging Eddie around town, and everyone else is just going to have to make peace with that. 

What was the most difficult part of writing I get this feeling I'm in motion?

Does “not immediately oversharing all of my personal hang-ups in the author's notes” count?

Actually, it was probably making the “repercussions” of Steve’s actions still be scary enough for him to internalize as a kid, but not be too disastrous or dangerous for him. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s very small. In “a good age (…)”, Robin thinks about what it might’ve been like if Steve were her brother and they (affectionately) come to the conclusion that they would have been little shitheads to each other as kids.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a handful of steddie illustrations based on fics that I’m waiting for the green light on to post, and quite a number of fics I’m chipping away at. Watch this space!

Thank you to our author, @ciriceart, and our nominator! See more of @ciriceart’s works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[dappersheep]

Part 3: Continuation of Fate

Kal’tsit brings Mizuki into a meeting room and offers him a seat. Other than a change of clothes, she seems completely unaffected by the passing years.

‘Your return is indeed unexpected.’ Kal’tsit holds a glass of water, her ten fingers tapping rhythmically across its exterior. ‘When you completed your series of metamorphoses and, as a ‘Firstborn’, sent the Doctor back to land, I thought you would climb up to the stars. But instead… You’re sitting in front of me, playing with your food just as before.’

‘Then, can I dig in?’ Several pieces of fruit have already disappeared down Mizuki’s gullet as he asks the question.

‘This is a reception room, everyone may freely enjoy the food that has been placed here. Moreover, this food was a change that you brought about. The desert has disappeared, the temperature has stabilized, and disaster has subsided. Terra has become a garden, and you had no small part to play in that.’

‘But, I’m also the villain who left humanity with nothing else.’

‘When the Doctor explained the plan to me, I did worry about its feasibility. Sacrificing the vast majority in exchange for the human race’s survival. It was insane… but ultimately, also the most rational and correct choice.’

‘Nobody wants to be sacrificed. Nobody wants to be part of that doomed majority.’

‘So, all Rhodes Island could do was put some stopgap measures in place. When Skadi became Ishar’mla, humanity’s fate was sealed. Collectively, all we could do was hole ourselves up in this prison and peek outside at a barely visible dawn.’

‘So how’s the Doctor doing?’ As soon as the words leave his mouth, Mizuki instantly regrets asking such a stupid question.

Even the Doctor has no hope of defying time. He begins to silently pray, hoping that Kal’tsit will not give him an answer.

However, when Kal’tsit opens her mouth again, the expression on her face remains unchanged.

‘The Doctor is still alive.’

‘Wh-what?!’

‘We managed to move the Sarcophagus here before we built the city. It preserves both the city’s power supply and the life of the one who gave us hope.’

Mizuki suddenly feels the weight of the world slip from his shoulders. He slumps into the chair, his face full of joy.

The Doctor is indeed alive, but even if the ‘Sarcophagus’ can close all wounds, it cannot turn back the clock. As the Doctor sleeps within it more and more frequently, the wick of life will eventually burn down to nothingness.

But, considering the Doctor’s condition is far from this dire state, Kal’tsit continues to conceal the fact from Mizuki.

It is also at this time that she feels the absurdity of reality.

All of humanity’s efforts to break its shackles and return to the sea of stars have been obliterated by history.

On the contrary, it was an out-of-control planetary transformation plan that birthed new life after the extinction of humanity.

She finds herself with nothing more to express beyond a sad sigh.

‘So, Mizuki, what do you plan to do before the Doctor wakes up?’

‘Nothing in particular. Maybe find some good eats, run a few errands here and there. I’m still a Rhodes Island operator, right?’

‘I’ll try to get your ID verification and dorm room prepared ASAP.’

‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’

Suddenly, as if she just thought of something, Kal’tsit hurriedly calls Mizuki before he can leave the reception room, and asks him to go sightseeing in the city.

‘One last question. Did ‘they’ really all leave?’

‘Hmm… My disaggregation was completed before the ascension, so I’m not exactly sure how ‘I’ went about it in the end.’

‘I see…’ Kal’tsit’s expression becomes serious.

Years later, mankind’s domain once again expanded to the edge of the sea.

The sea was once a source of calamity for humans, so the pioneers were told to fortify the coastal waters.

However, curiosity will always trump fear.

On a sunny afternoon, while the adults’ attention wanders, a girl slips off to play on the beach.

She carefully picks up jewel-like stones, wanting to sneak them back as a present for her little brother.

But as she walks, she spies on the beach—

A flower deep in slumber.

The Seaborn are nothing more than a distant, bygone nightmare, so the girl has no impression of the creature in front of her.

She steps forward and strokes the petals gently.

Seeingly sensing something, the petals slowly open, revealing the blue, jewel-like sensory organ beneath.

It is a Deep Sea Slider hatchling.

Seeing the girl, the newborn instinctively raises its appendages to attack.

However, after the girl offers it a piece of food, it confirms this gesture as friendliness. Its coiled appendages roll over the food and ferry it into its feeding organ.

It is at this moment, from the bottom of the sea to the stars high above, that the many receive a new perspective: Humanity today is no longer a threat.

We can coexist with humans.

[dvzaiosamu]

Flowers of dispair (2/2)

"Took me by surprise, I must confess... But you're still weak, aren't you, (first name)?"

── Flowers of dispair.

The continuation of the last chapter of Flowers of Dispair. This oneshot meant to be only one part, but since I accidentally clicked the publish button sooner, I didn't manage to finish it, so here I am making a "part two" for you hungry fellas.

The same as before! You can chose any song to listen to. Whatever you prefer! I recommend reading this oneshot in a mid-slow manner, so it has a different vibe. Idk if it's only me, but when I read these types of oneshot, I feel like when reading it slowly, it changes the whole vibe and gets you more into the story, maybe putting yourself in the character's shoes.

Not many seconds later, you find yourself in an awkward moment with him. An obvious tension was felt in the atmosphere, an uncomfortable tension that increased more and more in the tension of his words. You knew that he considered you a crumb, nothing, not even an object, and you also knew that you hated him, very, very much for what he did in the past, but one way or another you still wanted his attention and presence even if you didn't like it, why did you miss him like a little girl?

"You really... never cease to amaze me, you really have become extremely—"

Before he can finish, you activate your ability, out of some anger that his words caused you. You contradict yourself, you didn't understand each other anyway... You missed him when he was away, but once you met him, you started to hate him.

Two dagger-like tentacles expand from your back, attacking him at high speed, with a low growl that this time was not a figment of your imagination. These tentacles manage to surprise him and you manage to make a small cut on his cheek, which he simply ignores and rushes to grasp your arm and activate his ability, making your dark arua fade just like the tentacles did, you let out a frustrated sigh. The surroundings had become an interesting place, the people seemed to not exist, that place seemed more like a forest transformed into a simple park with dirt roads. There was no one there except you and the devil.

"Took me by surprise, I must confess... But you're still weak, aren't you, (first name)?" He smirks. His hand remains in contact with your skin and chills run through your body. It seemed like he was humiliating you in front of no one but your almost zero confidence in your abilities.

"Why don't you die yet! You don't know how much I hate you!" You yell at him, and this seems to bother him, judging you with his indifferent gaze as if you were a sick and almost dying mutt.

A silence of a few seconds eats at you inside, you try to calm down, but your breathing is still audible due to frustration and anger. Shouldn't a dog be loyal? Why would it growl at its owner?

“Believe me… I tried many times, it's a shame I never achieved my goal of dying,” his hand moves away from your arm, and with a sigh he turns around, looking at you with his head turned to the side. His hands hid in his pockets.

You cough lightly, having to bend down a little. Once again you have forgotten that using your ability also caused you weakness. The more you used it, the worse your condition would be after deactivating it.

“Everything would have been better now if you hadn’t shown up this afternoon to fuck with me,” you reproach him, and he just laughs softly, turning his body towards you, smiling simply. "Go die."

"Be careful with your words... Measure them well, remember that you are still someone deplorable and miserable, but we are not very different, we are both tired of living."

A step forward, you take a step forward, almost inevitably.

"I don't know who you think you are, it's my life, not yours, don't involve me in your suicides."

"What can I say, I wouldn't want to leave so soon after you were being so ungrateful to your owner. Likewise, the Agency needs me to be present, so I have to leave now," before leaving the scene, he pauses, with a sigh, and with his thumb he wipes the blood from his cheek, bringing it to his mouth and tasting it with a single lick. "You see, you're still the same. You're a flower, not in the sense that you're beautiful, no... Don't think that, it's because you're pathetically weak once you use your ability. I wonder when you... crack. You seem a flower of despair. Has anyone told you that? Now you do."

His words leave you thinking, but your strong feelings prevent you from relaxing so easily. But it doesn't last long, since you don't decide to continue attacking or making a fuss, you don't want to, it doesn't make sense, even though you know that internally you hate him.

Flower of Dispair, what if I am one?

I am the only one so pathetic, but I yearn for him, I long for his raw gaze. He hurt me, but I still want more, I want to feel that he bothers to hurt me, he has time to injure me badly with words or not. He is crude, and that's what I yearn from him even if I feel fear.

Later that day, you get a message. He's back.

STRANGER.

Today was fun, maybe next time you'll behave. Today I was nice,

but next time I will not be so kind.

You frown. Eyes pierce through, and anger curls around and melts with other sentiments, yet you feel a strange feeling inside that this is something not true.

What was real and what wasn't...?

Flowers of Dispair, stop spinning around me, it makes me mad... I'm going crazy.

Flowers of Dispair, what have you done?

Flowers of Dispair, I feel dizzy, my head spins, what am I feeling?

Flowers of Dispair, I think I'm going to fall down.

Flowers of Dispair, I'm kneeling on the floor, I feel sick and I feel like I'm going to vomit. Before I was a small flower of despair, and my petals are gone, the last petal falls, and with that I also fall, lying unconscious on the ground.

Today was the day I didn't woke up again. I'm not alive. I remember how I died in one of my training sessions with him, now I don't know where I am...

I am on the hospital's bed, the hospital indicator device begins to beep constantly, prolonging the sound, the device indicates a completely continuous and straight green line on the screen.

Deceased.

This is rushed... Idk if you guys liked this story. I personally don't liked this second part but... Y'know.

[villainessprefect]

title: try to keep it hidden, honey we can see right through you

summary: "Yes! I- No! Ugh!" Idia groans and pulls up the hood of his jacket. That should help. "You're only distracting because I like you! And losing to the one I like would be super uncool, okay? I'd lose points!"

He blinks.

Ah.

His blood runs cold.

Did he really just say all that aloud?

ship: Idiazul

word count: 1,929

Read on AO3!

The silence shared between them is never considered bothersome, especially when shared in the club room. It means the other members have left while he and Azul are granted some privacy over their latest game. This one involves trying to cover an entire board with their selected color with limited and oddly shaped blocks. It lacked chance and relied on reading your opponent.

Would you take the chance to block their movement or concern yourself with gaining more area?

"Come now, Idia, you shouldn't have that hard of a time making a decision," Azul smirks as he awaits his club member's turn to pass.

"I don't rush you on your turn..." He mumbles. Maybe he does edge him and gloats when he believes he has the upper hand, but he's kind enough not to rush his opponent. Time limits are a pain, he knows this well, so he doesn't mind if Azul drags out his turn whenever he starts calculating a way to victory. Besides, it gives him a chance to see if he can outthink him. Rare, but possible in a board game.

In this game, he feels the checkmate coming his way. They upped the difficulty by having each player use two colors instead of one. It allowed for a more interesting game. You could allow one color to gain momentum, stealing half the board while your opponent was concerned with your other color, or have one dominate a quarter of the board. To win, you would need to paint the board in both colors as much as possible.

And it seemed Azul had picked up on the trick to this game fairly quickly. Idia's red had been blocked by Azul's yellow, which was also slithering into his blue territory. Azul's green had covered enough ground on its own, but he had to be greedy and start spreading into his domain, didn't he?

"Tch." He clicks his tongue as he places an L-shaped blue block down.

Glowing yellow eyes glance up from the board to spot Azul's smug grin unchanged. Ah- shit. Wrong move? No, Azul wouldn't give away anything while he's in the lead. How he managed to not react over his move is beyond him.

Azul, the charming bastard, quickly puts down his weirdly shaped yellow piece without a care in the world. As expected, this stops Idia's blue from expanding into his territory.

"I saw that one coming..." He sighs.

"Then you should have prevented it."

"If I did, then you would have just pushed with green. I know you like to limit my movements anyway." Idia hums. "The last thing I want is hearing you rub it in my face that you beat me at another game."

Maybe he should have gone with another game that involved chance. One that he had a fair chance at winning before Azul found a way to control or tip the odds in his favor. Although, it was amusing to see his face fall whenever his tricks failed and landed him in a bad spot. Like rolling an odd number and losing all of his money and getting sent to jail! Oh, Idia would never forget the crushed look on his face when that happened. The mere memory makes his lips curl upward without knowing it.

"You don't seem that bothered by my guaranteed victory," Azul comments. "Unless you're planning something?"

"Huh?" He blinks, becoming aware of his smile. He bites down on his lip and raises a hand to shield his mouth. A faint pink dusts his cheeks and he hopes that's hidden with his jacket's sleeves.

'Ugh. Can't get distracted by his pretty face now. Gotta not think about that and think about kicking his ass! Win now, fantasize later! I mean- gah!'

He runs a hand through his hair to kick out those stupid thoughts. Focus on the game and not Azul!

"Why'd you have to be so distracting...?" He breathes out.

"Pardon?"

"Ah-! I-I mean...I'm thinking!" Idia yelps out as his heart races. There goes his big mouth. He was dangerously close to spilling words that should never leave his thoughts. He hated how relaxed he was around Azul. Not in a bad way. It's nice to let his guard down and speak almost like a normie, but...sometimes he felt too comfortable. Which didn't help his heart one bit.

He'd like to keep things as they are between them anyway. He finally has someone he could call a friend and losing that would...suck. Big time. It would be game over forever for him. Though it never hurts to think that something could happen...right?

He peeks a look over to Azul. The other is sitting with his legs crossed and eyes down at the board. He sits with his back against the chair, hand pressed against his chin. Fingers attempt to hide that winning smile, but Idia can easily see it. His confidence spoke volumes in his pose alone and Idia wished he could exert the same energy instead of being hunched over like a gremlin. Then blue eyes flicker to meet with his yellow.

Idia immediately looks down. God, he hopes he wasn't caught staring!

"Am I still distracting you?"

God. Dammit. He was!

"Yes! I- No! Ugh!" Idia groans and pulls up the hood of his jacket. That should help. "You're only distracting because I like you! And losing to the one I like would be super uncool, okay? I'd lose points!"

He blinks.

Ah.

His blood runs cold.

Did he really just say all that aloud?

Idia doesn't have it in him to even spare a look at Azul. He's probably looking at him like he's trash, which is fine because he is. Stupid trash that doesn't know when to shut up!

"Idia...?"

"Y-You heard nothing! Wipe everything from your m-memory banks!" Idia shouts as he gets to his feet, hitting the table as he does. He's definitely losing more cool points now if he even had any left to spare after that poor confession.

He does his best to hide his growing red face to spare Azul the sight of his embarrassment. He feels his hair heat up and has a feeling the tips are changing color to match his cheeks. At least some of it is covered by his hood, but not all.

"I-I- Ortho needs me, yeah! So, uhh, GG, Azul!"

Idia practically stumbles out of the club room, nearly tripping and falling and making an even bigger fool out of himself. He ignores his name being called and focuses on running home. He doesn't care if people are staring for once, he just has to go to his room and disappear. Forever.

When he does reach the dorm and finally his room, he collapses onto his bed. He takes in heavy breaths and grips a hand over his chest. It stings and he can't tell if it's from the burst of adrenaline or from the fear of confessing to his crush.

"I did not just say that I did not just say that I did not just...!" He repeats while curling up into a ball. He feels tears pricking at his eyes and a disgusting sob bubbling in his throat. He must really look pathetic.

Even as he tries to keep his mind off Azul, he can't help but think of him. He wonders what he's doing. Probably had to clean up after he had left in a hurry. Then he's probably going to go to his dorm and work and go about his day as if nothing happened. He flawlessly helps other students, unlike him who wouldn't move for the rest of the day. Idia wishes he could help him out. If only he wasn't the source of his current problem!

"I'm going to miss hanging around him..." He mutters. Azul was a rare one. He actually didn't mind Idia's tangents, and never once did he tell him to stop. Sometimes, he'd even inquire more! Plus he was into board games! It may not be digital, but a game is a game after all. He'd also learn a thing or two from playing with him, picking up on new strats that translated fairly well into some other games.

Idia lets out a long sigh. "Mm...still got some dailies to do..."

It should help distract him from all of, well, this. But he doesn't have the energy to drag himself out of bed and into his chair. Maybe he'll just stay here for a while.

But his peaceful moment comes to an end when there's a knock at his door.

"Eh? Ortho?" He calls out, assuming it would be his brother. No one else came to his room nor did he want anyone else to. Especially not now. "Sorry, I'm not feeling well-"

"It's me, Idia."

"Eek!" Idia jumps, immediately sitting up in bed. He pulls the blankets up with him, hiding underneath them.

"A-Azul?!"

"Yes," he answered from beyond the door. "I've come to...check on you."

"N-No need! I-I'm fine! Err forget what I said before wh-when I thought you were Ortho! I'm at f-full health!" He stammers out.

"I find that hard to believe."

Idia gulps.

"I just...wanted to inquire about what you said earlier." Azul continues. "I'd like to know if you meant it or not."

Idia falls silent and his grip on his blankets tightens.

He could admit to it, again. If he did it once, a second time would be easier, especially now that he had a door between them. He wouldn't have to deal with catching a look of disgust or disappointment in his gaze from admitting his feelings. Not that he’s sure if he had done so the first time. It’s better not knowing in his case.

"...If I did?" He asks, just loud enough so he’s sure that Azul could hear. "I-It doesn't matter though. Y-You're too top-tier for someone like me. Go on and l-laugh and reject me! I didn't even make a proper confession..."

"Can you at least open the door?"

"No."

"I figured..." Azul sighs. "Very well. I won't laugh or reject you, Idia. While your confession was surprising, I...am touched by it." He clears his throat. "I'd never guessed you'd feel that way about me. I'm glad the feeling is mutual."

"...wha?"

Idia blinks, staring at the door. This isn't some twisted joke, is it? No, no. Azul isn't the type for something like this. Maybe one of the eels, but not him. Still, he can hardly believe what he's hearing. Did his route that leads to doom actually lead to a good ending instead? How did he dodge that ending?

"If it's too much for you right now, I do hope I can see you tomorrow for our usual club meeting? We can discuss this more when you're ready."

"Y-Yes!" Idia blurts out and internally curses. He hates sounding like a giddy schoolgirl and agreeing to that immediately. He was still processing the fact that Azul liked him back and how he didn't mess up a friendship at all but got one better! Or supposed to be better. They hadn't officially said they were a couple yet.

"Then, I'll see you tomorrow, Idia."

He listens to the sound of heels clicking against the ground grow further and further away. Then, he lets his body fall to the bed. His hair immediately bursts into a fiery pink. A burst of nervous laughter escapes from his lips.

"I never thought I'd survive a confession," he breathes. "...n-now what?!"

[ifidiedinadream]

babies of the band you say? well, good sex is nice right, and it only gets better the more you do it with the same person, so why wouldn't the two of them decide that hey, we might both be straight or so we think, but hooking up with someone always there on tour seems like a great way to relax right? do the others know? do they walk in on them and wonder when the hell these two turned gay and dating? do they think they're being secretive but really, constantly sneaking off together for a quick bj in some supply closet or behind a corner isn't all that subtle? does one of them high on concert endorphines bring up wanting to try anal sex/penetration and they both end up learning a lot about their bodies that night? i'll leave it up to you!

hellooooooo i wrote something funny please tell me it's funny

also on ao3

"Sorry for earlier," Aleksi blurts out. The curtains of their shared hotel room are closed and it's night. They should be sleeping, the day has been exhausting enough for them to doze off immediately and sleep like babies until tomorrow morning, but they're scrolling their phones in the dim light of their bedside tables instead. Olli just couldn't relax. 

"It's fine, you were irritable, I understand that." 

Olli does understand, but it still hurts a bit. Aleksi hardly ever loses his patience, and he never snapped at him before. Olli was expecting a reprimand from Joel or Niko if there had to be one, certainly not from Aleksi. 

He guesses getting lost in a Swiss train station when their train was supposed to depart fifteen minutes later was too much bullshit even for calm, seraphic Aleksi. 

(Especially when their flight had been canceled, they had to wait for hours at the airport with no certainty they would be able to leave at all, and when they finally managed to land in Switzerland, Aleksi found most of his gear broken and part of it missing. All in the same day.)

"I deserved that," Olli adds later. 

"No, you didn't. I was an asshole." 

Olli will never forget his clenched teeth and hard eyes, the way he spat out "Are you for real? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" when they finally reunited. Olli had been panicking himself, because what the hell was he supposed to do in a foreign country that wasn't part of the EU therefore provided no internet connection nor signal to lost Finnish boys like him, but he didn't tell the others. He was relieved upon finding them, very much so, but Aleksi's hostility made him feel like shit not even a second later. They didn't exchange a word all day until now and it felt so wrong. 

It never happened before. Olli would say Aleksi and he are good friends, Aleksi is probably his favorite guy in the band and they get along very well most of the time. He's his best buddy, even. 

He's glad they seem to be normal again. 

"This tour has been stressful," Aleksi says, putting his phone on the nightstand to charge and rolling on his side, giving his back to Olli. They're sharing a double bed. "It really is no excuse for how I behaved but... I really need some release." 

"You could've gone out with the others," Olli remarks, but he knows Aleksi doesn't unwind like that. Aleksi's back expands and shrinks back down, like he just took a deep breath. 

"Clubbing won't do. I need something..." he trails off. He rolls in the bed again, turning to Olli. "Something more physical." 

Olli snorts and puts his phone away. "You can lock yourself in the bathroom, dude. I'm not gonna judge, nor interrupt." 

Aleksi grunts. "I become grumpy and obnoxious when I don't have sex for a while." 

"I think any person with balls can relate." 

Aleksi stares at the ceiling, seeming to consider it. "Maybe I should've gone to the club after all. I could've found a girl to hook up with." 

Olli can't help but imagine the scene. He thinks of Aleksi getting on top of a woman and pounding his hips into her. His stomach flips because apparently he's a perv like that. A sigh from Aleksi's lips pulls him out of his daydreams. 

"How I wish I had someone I could hook up with. I don't mean a one night stand." 

"'Cause sex is nice, but it gets even better when it's always with the same person, right?" 

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I do hook up with strangers when I'm at home sometimes," Aleksi confesses, "because I need the sex, and my hand isn't always enough, but at home I don't need it as much as I do when I'm on tour. It's stressful on tour. But at the same time, is finding a different girl every other night worth the hassle? When at the end of the day she doesn't know me, I don't know her, I come because of course I do but maybe she doesn't because I don't know where to touch her, I don't know her body, she doesn't know mine, it doesn't feel as good as it could, you know. When you know a person, it's one hundred times better." 

"Yeah," Olli agrees, "it would be nice to have someone to hook up with. Always the same person." 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah." 

"Too bad there's no one." 

"Yeah. Too bad." 

Olli reaches his arm out to turn off his bedside lamp, assuming the conversation is over. When he makes to lie down again, he finds Aleksi hovering over him, blue eyes huge and bright even in the dark. Olli gasps. 

"You didn't get what I was trying to say, did you?" 

"I - what were you trying to say?" 

"We could hook up. You and I." 

Olli's hand, still on the light switch, turns on the lamp again. Aleksi is looking down at him with expectant eyes and Olli doesn't miss the vague desperation dwelling in them as well. 

"But dude," he says, "I'm not a girl. You're not a girl." 

"I'm aware." Aleksi pushes the blanket off of him, sitting up. He takes his t-shirt off. "Who gives a shit. It doesn't have to mean we're gay." 

"So if I, a man, hook up with you, also a man," Olli looks at his hands, counting on his fingers, "it won't... it won't make us gay?" 

"Nah," Aleksi says, "it's only gay if we catch feelings for each other. Which can't happen, 'cause we're not gay." 

Olli must admit Aleksi's argument doesn't convince him in the slightest, he's pretty sure it's not how it works, but Aleksi's hairy chest is right there in front him, there's a bulge in his pajama pants, and suddenly he doesn't give a shit about labels anymore. 

"Alright," Olli says. "Let's hook up, then." 

*** 

Despite them not being gay in the slightest, it becomes a habit quite easily, naturally even. Olli and Aleksi hook up backstage before the shows, in the showers after the shows, in the bus when the others are exploring the cities, in the hotel rooms the others always let them share for some reason (Olli is sure no one suspects anything, they're being very subtle and sneaky about it, they're good at that. They've always been attached at the hip anyway, so why would anyone notice a difference now?). 

One night they're both in Olli's bunk in the bus, Olli's cock is in Aleksi's mouth, his hands in his hair. And Olli's being silent. The others are asleep. Aleksi's slurping sounds are quiet, and so are the heavy breaths he takes when he resurfaces for air. 

It gets a bit harder to not make a sound when Aleksi swirls his tongue around the rim of the head of Olli's cock, focusing on a particular spot on the underside, one that drives him crazy, so he puts his own fist in his mouth. Aleksi looks up at him with mischievous eyes, cheeks hollowed out, and when he pulls away he's smiling smugly. 

"Stop teasing or I'll tell everyone you're into sucking dick."

"Shut up or I'll tell everyone you're the one whose dick I usually suck." 

Aleksi wraps his lips around him then, relaxing his throat so that he can take all of him in. Olli sends his head back and it hits the wall behind him. It hurts but he's pretty sure it didn't wake anyone up. 

*** 

Another time would be when after a show that went particularly well, in the heat of the moment, Aleksi grabs Olli by his shirt and pulls him into the nearest secluded space, which happens to be nothing more than a small storage closet. The others arrive when the closet door is closed, missing them by mere instants. The door isn't even closed, to be fair, it doesn't lock and the way Aleksi is thrusting his cock in between Olli's thighs makes it move and open slightly. No one is watching, no one is listening, Olli tells himself. It feels so good, Aleksi's dick soft to the touch yet so hard, his breath on his neck from behind, his hand wrapped around Olli's own cock - he doesn't want to stop and worry. 

And why should he worry, anyway. It's not like they're being loud. It's not like Joonas and Joel aren't yelling and filling up cups with booze. It's fine. 

What probably isn't fine is how much Olli is getting into this. Their habit soon turned into some sort of tradition, where Olli is having sex more than ever before in his life, even multiple times a day, and he's never felt better. Aleksi said it's not gay until they catch feelings, and sure, there are no feelings to be caught, they're best bros, but the idea that all this will stop once the tour is over makes Olli sick to his stomach. 

But Olli doesn't have to think about it now. Tour is far from over. Aleksi's amazing dick is between his thighs where his pants and underwear were pushed off just enough to allow Aleksi this movement, and the urgency feels nice, too nice, desperate Aleksi must be Olli's favorite brand of Aleksi. 

He's going fast and muffling his moaning by pressing his mouth on the top of Olli's shoulder. Olli comes all over Aleksi's fist, biting his lip hard, and Aleksi follows soon after, tightening the grip on Olli's hip. They stay in the closet until they're sure the others are too drunk to notice. They giggle and tell each other to stay quiet, making more noise in the process, and maybe they kiss, even make out (just to pass the time, obviously, no other reason), the urgency from before nowhere to be found. Olli doesn't find it in himself to care. It feels good; Aleksi's mouth is so warm and gentle and his hands on Olli's face are delicate and his eyes always turn so soft after sex, when he's finally satisfied. That specific gaze sort of brings butterflies to Olli's stomach, and today, when they part, it's not any different. It's only a moment, though; soon mischief is animating Aleksi's eyes again and he reaches out to grab Olli's balls, just a bit too tightly for it to feel nice. Olli says "ouch" and Aleksi giggles again, kicking the door open and storming out of it. 

"What was that for?" Olli asks, fixing his pants before following him. 

"For pinching my ass during the show." 

They don't look suspicious, Olli thinks. The others wouldn't be able to notice anything with how much they've been drinking. 

*** 

Tour goes on and the habit-turned-tradition turns into obsession, at least on Olli's side. It's science, Olli tells himself. The more endorphins, dopamine, oxytocin his body produces, the more it wants them. It's chemistry, really. He doesn't like Aleksi and he isn't gay, he's just getting his body addicted to the feeling. 

Which isn't a problem, he'll get over it after a week or so of detox when the tour ends. 

(Something Olli doesn't really want to think about, the tour ending.) 

Now he's lying in the bed of his hotel room just like that first time, and something is bothering him, but this once it has nothing to do with Aleksi being mad at him. 

"Can I ask you something?" Olli inquires, the kisses Aleksi is leaving on his neck doing little to clear his mind. Aleksi hums. "Do you think it's gay if we have, like, anal sex?" 

Aleksi stops kissing his skin, pulling away slightly to look at him. His gaze is heavy lidded. He looks into Olli's eyes, then at his lips, and that's when he says, "Nah. Why should it be?" 

"Because it would be. Two men having sex." 

Aleksi has started kissing Olli's neck again, this time it's slower though, wetter. "It's two men having sex when you're sucking my dick behind a gas station, when I'm giving you a handjob in the lounge area of the bus when the others are watching hockey on TV." Aleksi's lips move downward, caressing Olli's collarbone, and then he's biting there, making Olli yelp. "It's two men having sex when we grind against each other first thing in the morning, still in bed, when Tommi knocks on our door and tells us to get ready for breakfast." Aleksi's hand fondles Olli's cock through his pants. "All of this is two men having sex. And it feels good, doesn't it? It feels right." 

"Yes," Olli breathes out, because what else can he say when Aleksi is stroking his dick like that. 

"Remember this: we're good as long as we don't catch feelings for each other." 

"Right." 

Right.  

"We can try anal sex if you want," Aleksi says. "We have condoms and lube. Did you want to be on top or -" 

"I actually wanted to try bottoming," Olli says, cutting himself off before he can add because I want to have you inside me on a whole new level as he suspects it could sound, indeed, a bit gay. 

This isn't catching feelings. 

"Alright." Aleksi flashes him a reassuring smile. "I'll be gentle." 

"How do I - have you done this before?" Olli asks. 

"A couple of times, yeah. With women, of course." 

"Of course." 

"Lie down." 

Olli does. Aleksi takes his pajamas off slowly and then undresses himself. He grabs Olli's knees and parts his legs gently, lowering his face and kissing his inner thigh once. He tells Olli to raise his legs and keep them folded. 

"Like this?" Olli asks, feeling a little exposed but Aleksi is eyeing him tenderly. 

"Yes, perfect," Aleksi says. "I'm gonna touch you a bit... getting you used to the sensation. Okay?" 

Olli nods. Aleksi's fingers end up in between his cheeks, brushing lightly, then up his perineum, making Olli shiver. Aleksi pours lube on his hole directly from the bottle and it's cold, but Aleksi assures him the lube has to be copious. 

"Tell me if you need more, alright?" Aleksi says, and Olli nods once again. 

Aleksi's fingers are gentle. He describes what he's doing to Olli, making sure he's okay. When a finger is inside it isn't necessarily comfortable, but Aleksi's patient and soft gaze makes Olli relax easily and his body gives in. Aleksi prepares him for a while longer, and when Olli says he's ready, Aleksi withdraws his hand and ends up on top of him, kissing him slowly before smearing his cock in lube. 

Their bodies are flush and it's so slick where Aleksi's cock and his ass touch. Olli wraps his arms and legs around Aleksi because he loves the feeling of having Aleksi everywhere, of his scent permeating the air all around him; he loves how sweet Aleksi is tonight, his considerate questions and kind eyes. 

He won't tell him that, of course, because that would be gay, and we all agree that neither of them is gay, so Olli just hugs Aleksi silently as the latter gently penetrates him, not before asking if it's okay a million times, not before reminding Olli he can tap out if he needs to, he can add more lube, he can stretch him more, he'll do whatever Olli needs him to. 

They have slow sex. It's uncomfortable before it feels even remotely pleasurable, but Aleksi's tender care makes it all worth it. He moves so slowly Olli can feel every centimeter of him inside himself, and the way Aleksi is looking at his face, attentive and careful, makes Olli feel all fuzzy in the chest. However, it's when Aleksi tells him he feels so good that Olli lets out a moan, which seems to invigorate Aleksi, making him move a bit faster. Olli doesn't mind, he's totally relaxed now, and when Aleksi lifts his hips a bit and the angle changes, Olli feels a kind of pleasure he's never felt in his life before. 

"Found it?" Aleksi asks, amused. 

Olli moans louder, holding Aleksi closer to him. It's heaven. Heaven. His body has never felt better, his heart is warm and large and full, his head is above the clouds, and Olli comes untouched for the first time ever. 

"Good boy," Aleksi says, and when he finally comes as well, Olli wishes he wasn't wearing a condom so he could feel all the cum inside him, claiming his body like it's his right. 

But it's not because he's catching feelings. It's just that the sex is particularly good. 

They're best bros. Fuck buddies at best. 

*** 

The habit-turned-tradition-turned-obsession somehow ends up turning into something else by the end of the tour. Olli doesn't exactly know what, but he knows it's bothering him. If he couldn't stay a day without having sex with Aleksi before, now he finds himself fighting for his attention, hating it when he spends time with someone else (like when he went shopping with Joel on their day off) and feeling like the king of the universe when Aleksi rests his head on his shoulder (like that day they were late to the venue because the bus was stuck in traffic). 

It's bothering him because deep down, despite him not being gay, despite Aleksi being his best bro, Olli knows he caught feelings somewhere along the way. He tells himself it isn't the case, that he doesn't like Aleksi like that, he only likes the attention, the sex, having someone to occupy his mind, but lying to himself can only get him so far, and it won't spare him all the hurt that will inevitably come. 

Because to Aleksi it's only sex, he made it clear right from the start. 

It gets even heavier on the last day of tour. They're getting back to Finland tomorrow and the fact that Aleksi will be in Helsinki and Olli in Oulu, how they won't have any excuse to sleep together anymore, how Aleksi will probably go on with his life like nothing ever happened tears up Olli's heart. 

It wasn't supposed to come to this. Fuck.  

That's why he agrees to go to Joel's acquaintance's party (a friend of a friend of a dude who works at a radio station), to try and drown his sorrows in alcohol before the hole in his chest gets too big and sucks too much of his life away. Aleksi will be there too, everyone will, but staying behind on the bus and crying his eyes out in his bunk bed is most likely the more pathetic option and Olli doesn't need that. 

At the party, Olli drinks and drinks and drinks. He's Mr. Recovery Man so he'll be just fine for the flight tomorrow. There are a lot of beautiful women trying to start a conversation with "the Finnish bassist who looks like a model", as Olli overheard one of them say, but sex is the last thing on Olli's mind right now. All he wants is to hold Aleksi's hand for one last time before they have to part. 

Before he has to tell him he fucked everything up by catching feelings and evidently not being as straight as he thought he was. 

Olli drinks again. His mood gets better the more he drinks, his head and heart lighter, to the point, some time later, where he's actually having fun and dancing to the beat pumping through the speakers and talking to people; however, it's short lived. He keeps drinking until a line is crossed and his stomach starts to hurt. Olli finds a bathroom before it's too late, throws up his entire soul, and by the time he's done, he can barely stand. 

Joonas finds him in the bathroom, holding on to the sink. His friend washes his mouth and takes him to the couch in the living room, asking him if he wants to go back to the bus with him and call it a night. Olli refuses. 

(He doesn't want the night to end, because that would mean the tour has ended, and so has whatever he and Aleksi had.) 

Joonas leaves, not without mumbling something about someone being a lovesick idiot. Olli considers the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table before him, but decides against it. He fights sleep but allows his eyes to close, focusing on the music resonating in his chest. He tries to figure out the notes of the bass he's hearing. It's a pretty basic bass line. 

Someone sits down beside him. Olli opens his eyes and it's a blurry, blurry Aleksi, with wild hair and sweat all over his face. Olli's senses come back to him at once, suddenly alert. Aleksi doesn't look much more sober than he is. 

"Kiss," Aleksi says, moving closer, but Olli pushes him away. 

"In front of everyone?" 

"They know." 

"They don't." 

"Literally everyone in the band knows. Niko just called me a pining mess," Aleksi slurs. Olli furrows his brows because it reminds him of something. "I just want one last kiss before you tell me to fuck off forever." 

"You're drunk." 

"So are you." 

Aleksi tries to kiss him once again but Olli moves away. It hurts. It hurts like hell, but another kiss would only hurt more. "We can't do this. Aleksi, this was a mistake. We said we wouldn't catch feelings. But I have." 

Aleksi suddenly turns serious. He looks at Olli's face for a moment, like he's searching for something there. His face is still blurry but he's as gorgeous as always, even with the two little expression lines in between his eyebrows. His gaze drops as soon as he starts speaking. 

"So have I. I fell in love with you. Sorry I can't say it sober." 

"You - what?" 

Aleksi's face crumbles after an intense moment. He starts to laugh loudly and for a second Olli thinks this was all a cruel, heartless prank. 

"Dude, we're so fucking gay," Aleksi says. "Don't know about you but I told myself so many lies during the last few months. Ever since we started hooking up. But I wasn't fooling anyone. Dude, I like you so fucking much. Always have." 

Olli feels like he could cry; he hugs Aleksi tight instead, kissing him on the mouth when they part and not giving two shits about it. 

"We should... probably talk about this when we're both sober. In the morning," Olli suggests. 

"Can you - can you just say it out loud? Again? Just one last time... Or tomorrow I won't think it's real," Aleksi says, looking small somehow. It makes Olli smile fondly. 

"What, that I like you back?" 

"Yeah." 

Olli cups the side of Aleksi's face, looking deep into his eyes, so blurry yet so beautiful. 

"You're all I ever wanted."

[ikeromantic]

Since I'm stuck in bed with covid...could I request some ikesen Motonari fluff of him taking care of a sick MC? Pretty please.

I hope you are feeling much better now! Here is some soft Motonari taking care of his Ava. Approx. 1200 words

Motonari was awake and out of the cabin before Ava as usual. The sun wasn’t even up yet and the last of the stars still glittered above the ocean to their west. He gave orders, checked their stores and supplies, and checked on the state of his crew and ship. Then he sat on the railing to watch the sun rise over the water. 

The light washed the sea in gold and turned the sky a rosy hue. Ripples sparkled in expanding circles from unseen creatures swimming just beneath the surface. A high wind creaked in the upper reaches of the boat’s sails. This, he thought, was peace and freedom. And he could finally, truly appreciate it. Because of Ava.

He imagined her still nestled in their sheets and smiled. He was off the railing and headed back to his quarters before his mind caught up with his body. Motonari slipped into the room, quiet as a mouse in the larder. 

Ava was right where he left her, tangled in the sheets, her hair fanned out on the pillow, one foot sticking out from the bottom of the blanket. It was only when he leaned down to kiss her that he realized something was wrong. Her forehead was hot to the touch, and her lips were pressed together in a firm little frown instead of her usual care-free smile. 

She made a little noise and her eyes opened, blinking and bleary. “Moto . . . nari?” Ava started to sit up and then laid back down. 

“Are you alright?” Motonari’s voice was harsh, the gruffness hiding the cold fear that suddenly gripped at his heart. 

“Just dizzy.” She rubbed at her face. “And my head hurts.” Her voice was more nasal than normal, he noticed. “I think I have a head-cold,” she added reluctantly. 

He nodded as if this made perfect sense. Ava didn’t seem worried but he still felt a tightness in his chest. “I’ve got just the thing,” he told her. Though he wasn’t sure what ‘the thing’ was exactly. Only that he would do whatever it took to make her feel better again.

Motonari kissed her forehead again and then walked over to his cabin kitchen. He started with some tea. Tea always made him feel better. And then he made her a fish soup with ginger broth. And rice with pickled radish. 

“That’s . . . a lot of food,” she eyed the tray as he walked over. 

“Got to keep up your strength. Feed a cold.” He grinned. “Keep them flowers in yer head growing.” 

Ava pouted. “I don’t have flowers in my head!”

“Yer sure?” He leaned down to peer into her ear. “Looks like flowers to me . . .”

She started to laugh and then sneezed. Twice. 

Motonari waited until she settled again and then held her tea cup out to her. She tried to take it but he didn’t let go. “You just lay back and let yer favorite sailor take care of you.”

“I’m pretty sure I can hold my own tea. It’s only a head cold.”

“Mhmm.” Motonari held the cup closer to her lips, one eyebrow raised.

Ava sighed. “Fine. Just don’t spill on me, ok?”

He carefully tipped the cup as she set her lips at the edge. Slowly, slowly . . . his whole body tensed as he watched her face for signs that she had enough. He held his breath until the moment came and he took the cup away. He felt quite proud of himself. Not a drop spilled, even on the slightly rocking ship. “Hungry?”

“Not really. Maybe a little?”

Motonari got a spoonful of the soup. “Open wide, princess.” He thought she might refuse but she went along with it, from the first bite until the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. “Got some pickled radish for you.” He lifted a bit of radish and rice.

Ava shook her head. “No. I don’t think I can manage another bite.” At his crestfallen expression, she added, “Maybe a little later?”

“Alright.” He put up the food and cleaned up his cooking space. When he turned around to see if she’d like some water or more tea, Ava was fast asleep. Motonari wanted to sit down here with her so that he’d be right to hand if she needed something. But he should be on deck. He stroked her hair, feeling the soft strands catch on his calloused palms. 

It was still a wonder to him how such a lovely creature could have fallen for him. He felt sure he would wake up one day from this dream and find that Ava was only a fantasy. A life he imagined with a woman too good for a scoundrel like himself. But here she was, in his bed. As real to the touch as the ship beneath his feet. 

He crept out of the room as quiet as he could. The crew were all working, even without him. Experienced sailors that needed only a bit of discipline and direction. He caught a few giving him a wink and a smile. “What’re you lookin’ at? Got something in your eye?” 

They quickly turned back to their tasks, grinning. Motonari wondered if they all had flowers on the brain. 

The next few hours were smooth sailing as they made their way to the river mouth. Things would be trickier headed up the river but the best deals were further up from the coast. Every hour or so, he would pop down to check on his beloved. Adjusting her pillows, fixing her blankets, getting her water or tea. 

Every time he saw her, he felt reassured that she would be alright. Especially when, a little before sunset, she cracked a smile and asked, “What are you cooking for dinner, Nurse Motonari? Please tell me there’s no jello.”

He looked at her, his expression all grim-like and very pirate-captainical. “Jello is all we’ll be having until you’re well, ya flower-head.” 

Ava tried to pout but ended up laughing. “I better get well soon then. I hate jello . . .”

Motonari kissed her cheek, and then at her request, wrapped her up in her warmest blanket and carried her up to the deck to watch the sunset. A couple of sailors whistled or whooped at them, glad to see the lady up and around. Ava handled it well, with a wave and a smile. She was used to their enthusiasm by now. 

“Ya can only be out here for a little while. The night air’s not good for illness.” He hugged her tight to his chest, reminding her that she wasn’t all better yet. 

“I know. I just wanted to be out of the room for a little bit.” She snuggled, laying her head on his shoulder. 

He held her like that until the last golden edge of the sun dipped below the waves on the horizon and the first stars glimmered on the eastern edge of the sky. “It’s too bad yer still sick,” Motonari whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “This is the perfect moment ta kiss ya, and take ya to bed for a proper loving.” 

Her cheeks flushed and she wriggled a bit in his arms. “I’m actually . . . feeling a lot better!”

Motonari chuckled. “Heh. Well, I dunno about that. Still feel a little peaky to me.”

“I’m not!” She protested the whole way back to his cabin. But she didn’t mind a bit when he just snuggled into bed beside her and pillowed her head on his chest. Motonari kissed her hair and held her close until she fell into a restful sleep, which he soon followed her into.

[basofy]

ON UR LATEST POST I HATED THAT ENDING SO MUCH LOL they were both so out of character?? i do like the idea of buddy verbally breaking buzzo down but idk they did it so badly it didnt feel like the two of them at all especially him being all GRR YOU BITCH like eben if thats just the joy getting to him IDK it just. felt so :/ to me SORRY FOR THE LONG ASK

oh hi lolll dw about the ask i like getting asks(as long as i can think of a reply)

yeah much like with other stuff in the definitive i liked some of the concepts in the dialogue/ending but not the execution, as some people have already said it the stuff buddy tells buzzo feels more like the game is trying to make up for the fans's mistakes when misinterpreting lisa instead of trying to work through the mistakes it had made with the characters in the past, much like buddy's words about brad later on don't feel like it's her talking but it's instead austin talking agshgahgf i think all this happens because joyful continues failing to fully put itself on buddy's shoes so she becomes hard to write she barely even has a personality and it's sad, i did like some of the new stuff but the way it was set up and concluded is kinda goofy

i was surprised to see that the definitive edition managed to expand lisa's character nicely (save for that one implication buzzo made about hearing her voice and blah blah) but it didn't do the same for buddy as much as it tried. i think the stuff buddy says is especially weird because it all feels like conclusions we didn't see her reaching we didnt get to see the process and some of the stuff feels unfair to her as well, and making buzzo lame feels like a desperate attempt to get people to understand this guy isnt good he's just saying shit!!!! and it's funny some fans still dont get it lmao, i feel like it tried so much to make buzzo look bad and it didn't do it in the way it could've done it?? buddy could've had beef with him about how much he mistreated her, they dont even talk about the nipple thing even though it was aknowledged in the dream segment, also i would've preffered if buddy learned about lisa through buzzo instead of through weird ghost stuff but i'm wondering if she really knows at all?? i admit i cant be too mad cuz i understand that making joyful better would require rewriting soooo much stuff which was maybe not possible i dunno

i think austin understood that lisa needed more told about her as a human being rather than a haunting memory and that was rly nice to see yet it failed to understand that buddy's issues is that the story doesnt feel like it's about her that much, it tries to solve so much stuff for everyone that buddy is left with so little

[monstersinthecosmos]

do you have any tips on editing longer fic? Your writing always flows so well and is so well put together. How do you work out what stays/goes/gets expanded without getting overwhelmed?

!! that's such a nice thing to say, thank you!

(this is going to be long LOL - TLDR break everything you do into tiny unthreatening tasks)

Writing is weird bc like, everyone works differently and my process is tailor-made to my own needs and might not work for you but I'm happy to share how I do it!!!!!!!

First of all, my writing process is like cultivated from misc writing advice combined with misc ADHD adulting advice. The foundation of my writing advice comes from Stephen King's book On Writing which I just super recommend even if you're not a fan of his because he really talks about the necessity of treating writing like a commitment of time, and how to create discipline around making time to write. I don't think getting snobby about prose and making rules about like what to do and what not to do with your actual words is helpful at all, but treating writing like something I have to make time for and approaching it with task orientation in mind is the only way I get anything done. 😂

So for editing, and for writing too, my ADHD approach is that I always need to look at a project in terms of small manageable goals. This is like some brain trickery stuff when it comes to your reward system and ability to stay motivated. Some people are better at this than others and some people are ADHD messes like myself. 😂 So for me I know that I have to approach any project as a series of small tasks or else I get overwhelmed and lose the motivation. This is as true for writing as it is about cleaning my house, it's the same principle. (I really also suggest @unfuckyourhabitat for all these same ideas when it comes to housekeeping LOL. My writing routine is a combination of Stephen King & UFYH.)

So, having said that:

The way my brain works (and a lot of people's brains, maybe yours too!) is that if you try to do something and fail, you lose motivation to try again. In terms of house cleaning, if you say "I will clean my entire house today" and you don't finish, you feel bad that you fucked up. But if you set a small manageable goal like "I will clean my kitchen today" and reach it, you can then continue "I will clean my bathroom now!" and work you way down the list. Writing is the same for me. I create loose outlines for myself and think "I can just write this one scene for now" and then I don't get bogged down by the huge task ahead of me.

For editing, it can be: "I can edit the first 500 words today". It really depends what feels most comfortable for you, but don't think about the entire story as a marathon you have to get through. Even if it's "I will edit for a half hour and then take a break." Break it into pieces.

It took me a long time to get in the habit of writing outlines (this is relevant to editing too, I swear) because I felt very constrained by them, so it took some practice to figure out how to write ones that worked for me. I need enough guidance to feel like I've broken the story into small pieces, but with enough space that if I change my mind about something I have the freedom to rearrange. And to your question about what stays and goes, a lot of this work gets done in the outline. Sometimes if I come up with ideas or the story becomes more clear once I'm writing it and if I think of something I want to add, I can like put it in my outline notes to make sure to weave it in later, and if it's something I have to go back to add to/remove a part I wrote already, I make a note in my editing notes to do it later so I don't forget. (As an example, I'm writing a hurt/comfort fic right now with some caretaking stuff and in the moment I'm like "I want to make sure she comes off extra pathetic and helpless" so I made a note for myself when I edit to make sure I emphasize that she's limping.)

I know you asked about editing but for me it's all the same process LOL so I'm talking about writing a little bit, too. One of Stephen King's methods that I adopted (which is also the NaNo model) is to just GET THE FIRST DRAFT DONE. King will write a whole manuscript and then he sets it aside for a few months to let his brain reset, and then he rereads it and starts making notes with a clear mind. I don't do that, I usually edit immediately when I finish something LOL but I do try to finish the first draft completely before I start editing. This took a ton of practice because I used to always tinker with the earlier part of the story instead of writing MORE and as a result I never used to finish anything 😂 but I worked really hard to break that habit. But outlining and writing copious notes in my outline actually helps the editing process a lot for me. I tend to write very slow but in the end when it's time to edit I've gotten a lot of it out the way I want it the first time.

Another method thing I want to mention regarding outlines & notes, the way I write (for ADHD purposes LOL) is I always keep my outline at the bottom of the body of text, just at the bottom of the screen.

(I write with Scrivener which is a whole other thing but I'm on my work PC so accept a Word screenshot. SCRIVENER IS GREAT FOR ALL OF THIS BTW, ASK ME AGAIN LATER.)

So basically at all times, I can glance to the bottom of the page and remember what's the next point I'm supposed to be getting to. I try to break these into the smallest points possible for the sake of small manageable goals. For example, breaking it into those small points instead of "Basement scene" lmao. Like I'm talking, really small. Joke small. Treat yourself like a toddler.

And then beneath the outline I'll have editing notes like

Make sure you mentioned x y z enough times

Check if whatever scene is too repetitive bc you wound up saying it again later

That way if I think of something I can just park it in those notes as a reminder to look for later, without getting distracted from moving the story forward and continuing to add to it.

But I'd say in general like writing an outline and having notes & guidelines for myself really cuts down on any heavy restructuring when I'm editing. I don't edit huge things unless I really change my mind about something. And that does happen! But idk it feels fun I think. I don't get discouraged because I get excited that it's going to make the story better.

ANYWAY I APOLOGIZE I SAID ALL THAT STUFF ABOUT WRITING & EDITING BUT my actual process that works for me when I am ready to edit:

Full screen (this is great with Scrivener bc it's actually full screen)

Change the font/font size; your eyeballs are going to be really used to looking at your page and we all experience that brain thing of missing small typos because they blend in. Changing the font just causes us to look a little harder.

Both of these are visual methods which work for me because I'm a visual writer; if you are visually impaired the screen reader is awesome for listening for typos. If you're paranoid about typos I would listen to the screen reader read the story back to you, too, it always catches more stuff for me.

If you're full screened and can't see your notes, open notes on your phone or even write some by hand. The phone can be hit or miss if you need to not distract yourself, but it doesn't distract me when I'm editing to have my notes app open on my phone. This helps for the reminders I make myself but also as I'm reading I can ask questions like "Did I answer this question later?" and that helps to remind me to come back to it.

Sometimes I read out loud because it can help hear weird cadence stuff but with long fics my throat hurts by the end so I don't always do this. =P

If there's a specific thing you're self conscious about, make an extra run through for just THAT THING so that you can focus on it and not be worrying about anything else. I suggest this for people who are worried about errant limbs during sex scenes, for example LOL. Like reread the sex part by itself without looking for any other mistakes to look for continuity on all the positions and where everyone's hands are, etc.

I always run it through Google Docs spell check too before I post it because it's got a really good spell/grammar check. I break grammar rules all the time but it's pretty smart at noticing when something is actually a mistake.

I sometimes run it through Hemingway Editor but I don't take all of its advice. If you've never used it it's a tool that highlights how often you're using adverbs, passive phrasing, or over-complex sentences. This is going to go back to what I said before about how I treat writing advice as a discipline and it's not really about prose, so I don't necessarily buy into these rules about what makes writing bad LOL but I do like to skim over to see if I'm like being too repetitive or if something can be punchier. A lot of times I can write something completely incoherent and not notice because it's my own voice so this kinda checks me on that. It can be helpful but don't let it discourage you because you'll post your story in and it'll tell you you're stupid. 😂

AND THEN WHEN IT'S ON AO3 I READ IT ONE MORE TIME because I'm really self conscious and I feel like on AO3 it's finally *finished* but then I find 100 more typos bc the pressure of it being public gives me hyper awareness.

Okay I mean, this is a lot of steps, but. I think like, for me, the hard part is the writing and I baby myself through it the best I can, and then when I'm editing I'm just trying to read my story and see where I can fix it up a little. I'm not a heavy editor so I don't get too bogged down in the edits.

I'm not sure if this answered your question or if it helps but that's pretty much how it works for me. As far as like what stays & goes etc I really just feel like at all times I'm asking myself like "Why is this important to the story? What does this add to the story? How does this change the character?" etc so I'm constantly rearranging the outline. But I do most of that work in the outline so when I edit it's not really a big problem. Scrivener does have a side-to-side page view (you could also do this with two gdocs or Word windows or whatever you're using but I'm gonna just plug Scriv all the time) so times when I have had to restructure something I'd open them side by side and tinker with it that way so I could see what I was doing. But most of the work I do when I'm editing is checking for typos and like making sure I'm not repeating words too much. It can happen in the moment when I'm writing and in the zone because I'm not paying attention and I don't notice until I reread.

It could be something like "He turned his face and felt the warmth on his face." LOL SO MANY FACES. So you fix it to "He turned his head and felt the warmth on his cheek." That's getting into prose advice again and I don't want to tell anyone how to write, but that's the kind of editing I do. I'm just polishing stuff really.

Also, I personally don't use beta readers for my own fanfics, A LA MATER LOL, but if it helps maybe ask a friend to beta read for you. Then you're not doing the editing anyway. :) I know a lot of fic writers who won't share ANYTHING that hasn't been beta'd and if that removes some of your stress you could try it!

SORRY FOR THE ESSAY i hope you can use something here LOL. Please ask questions any time I love to write and I am here to help!

[melusine0811]

The Dream of Atlas, REWRITTEN.

The Doctor and Rose have been left behind on Bad Wolf Bay, and they begin to take the tentative steps towards a new life by way of a true telepathic bond. It's sometimes angsty, sometimes fluffy, sometimes smutty fic with lots of adventure. Rated T for now, E later.

Part of @tentoorosemonth2022​

Chapter 1 : Sun

Chapter 2: Venus

"As a Gallifreyan, the Doctor was fortunate to have been born with measurement and reason stacking the gyres of his DNA’s double helix like a library with a spiral staircase. But unfortunately for him and for all the other members of his gracelessly stuffy old species…nature measures naught.

It never ceases in being dramatic in its demonstration of how wonderful and simultaneously terrible it can be—-the universe’s very own rhetorical device, surely.

Hurricanes, volcanoes, tsunamis, solar flares, the aurora borealis, sunrises and sunsets, supernovas, star birth, the expanding and contracting of the universe… and on and on. These were all things the Doctor had found himself at odds with, particularly in his inability to contain or control them.

But Rose, in her quest to help others, had always seemed fluent in the discourse of the cosmos. She could apparently pluck the laws of dimensions like the strings of a harp, like a phoenix she called fire her friend, and through it all she’d soaked the universe in her empathy. In the process, she had proven that she was much more natural to artron energy than any Time Lord ever had been.

He’s never been a religious man, the Doctor. But he’s considering changing his tune once again, the syllables of his own sermon he’d preached to Satan thundering through the sterile hallways of his synapses as he looks at her as though he's either ready to bow down or flee for being unworthy of her presence.

His single heart currently feels as though it could bruise the insides of his ribs, and it rises in his throat, finally yielding and scattering as a flock of birds into the horizon.

Rose’s arms are wrapped securely around her body, the sun to her back, and she looks as though she’s an eclipse, edged by a corona. He’s appreciating the contributions of the pagan sun worshippers, as he speculates not for the first time how she manages to pull off this effect on a rotating schedule.

As he approaches tentatively, like shadow seeking the sunrise, she turns, allowing more light to reach her face. He notices then that although the colour has returned to her cheeks, and the faint circles under her eyes have faded, she’s still looking at him as though her heart has been torn in half and discarded. Fresh tears trickle down next to the salty tracks of older ones, and she is trembling slightly, as though she’s trying to speak.

The Doctor’s mouth gapes open like a useless bucket as he scrambles his brain for something…anything to say. 

It’s then that he realises that she’s shaking with anger.

“You. Were. GONE!"

He attempts to stammer a response but she gives him no such opportunity.

"I went to find you, I knocked on your room door and you didn’t answer, even when I called to you. I was afraid that you had died or something, new body an’ all…. I remember how sick you were the last time…then I thought maybe this was all too much for you and you left.”

She leaves out the “me” at the end of her last statement, but at this point it’s not necessary. Rose’s entire being dissolves in body- seizing sobs again, and the Doctor’s insides liquify with self- hatred…for himself, and especially for the other him.

He still continues to stand there like an idiot, mentally kicking himself for it and searching desperately for words….words? Any words. Because what could he say? 

His body is moving before his brain can wrap around what it’s doing. His arms are suddenly held out for her….he doesn’t expect her to comply, and the part of him he despises wants to put them down immediately and bluff that he was just trying to fix his blanket or something. But they remain, as if by force.

Rose’s body seems to betray her brain as well, and to his shock, she doesn’t hesitate in being surrounded in him.

He pulls her in, wrapping his arms tightly around her, just like he used to. She collapses against his chest and lets out a sigh, finally melding her arms around his waist. He can’t stop thinking about how good she smells, and how he wants to bottle it.

He poignantly remembers the last few years—smell has a tendency to do that. His brain starts going off on his usual sciencey tangent about how scents bypass the thalamus and go straight to the brain's smell centre, known as the olfactory bulb, and the olfactory bulb is directly connected to the amygdala and hippocampus, which is the centre of the brain where…dingle dangle bingle bongle…there he goes again…

At that second, the warm press of Rose’s lips along with her breath on his neck shut his brain up forthwith, and he attempts to pass the resulting shiver off as just being cold.

Rose, in spite of herself, must have fallen for it, so she starts rubbing his back and arms up and down to warm him up.

He finally is able to squeak out words, much higher pitched than normal.

“Nope. Didn’t leave." He clears his throat so that his voice returns to normal. 

"I’m not leaving you again…ever. Not unless you tell me to,” he whispers into the tangled, illuminated constellations in her hair.

He panics slightly at the thought, as though having mentioned it might plant the idea into her head, and she’ll realise that she could potentially be free of the burden of him if she so chooses. 

He holds her closer and rocks her slowly, breathing in that scent. He doesn’t want to let go… to ever, ever let this go, even if these might be their last moments together and she tells him to sod off tomorrow.

He pushes the thought from his mind and melts from pure, cathartic euphoria at the feel of her pressed flush against him, even though he’s starting to feel the moisture from her tears soaking through his jacket.

His pitiful heart begins to swell like a balloon, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, and he’s even more unsure he even wants to bother trying to. He kisses her forehead. 

Then, her body begins to shake once again, and he realises that these are from the dam finally bursting. Waves of wracking sobs and long overdue grief overcome her thin frame, and he gets the distinct feeling that it is only now that she is allowing herself to feel the force of it, possibly since Canary Wharf. 

He holds her through them as though he’s holding her through a tidal surge, the force eventually passing through him as well. Soon his own tears join hers, hitting him like a ton of bricks. White heat rips through his chest as he remembers everything that is suddenly lost to him. Friends, companions, and his beloved ship. He once again feels unworthy of being here, standing in her arms for all of his violence, his genocide…and now all of that twisted hatred is in human form.

She catches on though, his Rose. Because of course she does. She begins to focus her attention on him, her empathy coursing through his body like rivulets of golden balm, and he nearly stops breathing at the feeling.

He is nearly floored by it."

[ladyniniane]

Happy birthday to me!

I’m 27 now! Some musings below the cut.

So this last year was good…but also pretty hectic in some places? I’m happy that a solution has been found to my cat’s health problems. 

The biggest change for me right now is that I’ve decided to leave my job. Long story short: they didn’t keep their promise of giving me a raise (and it’s almost impossible to get one). I’m fed up of not getting enough recognition and being just an expandable employee. Plus, my manager had been petty for no reason. So it was starting to take a toll on my wellbeing. To be honest, I’m going through all sort of emotions at this moment, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, but deep down I believe I did. It’s a big jump into the unknown and it’s a bit scary. But I will try to find a way. Beside, I can still be proud of my work achievements. 

A year ago, I started taking driving lessons again after…4 years without driving. I was determined to get my driver’s license, but sadly I didn’t. I’m even more afraid of driving than I was before, because the exam was an extremely…unpleasant experience to say the least. Going back to driving and taking these lessons took a lot of energy and I feel kinda burned out when it comes to driving. Getting help isn’t easy, and even if I know that I sound like an emo kid, many people don’t really understand what I’m really going through. This experience leaves me a taste of failure, but we will see later.

A thing I’m proud of is writing. I’m able to write consistently and I did my best word count ever during NaNoWriMo in November 2022 and I did all the Camp NaNos. I’ve been able to move forward on many projects. I’ve also published stuff on the internet again, something I hadn’t done in 3 years. But, that’s where the disheartening part starts. My stories get (some) views, but barely any interactions (shout out to those who did interact, you’re axe some) I feel like I’m screaming in the void. I write for myself, but I also write to connect with other people, especially since I put a lot of time and effort in it. I know that it happens to many people and that at the end of the day I’m not entitled to anything. I hope that it doesn’t have anything to do with the quality of my stories, I think that it’s just that my audience isn’t there. 

There were also many pleasing moments, travels, food, books and all the little nothings that make life beautiful. I’ve progressed at dealing with some doubts, traumas and anxieties even though some new stuff has taken their place (put a coin in the jukebox and whe start again?). That’s funny because when I turned 25, I thought that things would only go upward from this point on. Turns out that they’re still a little chaotic and that I still have many things to figure out (and that makes it even more sad for people who think everything is over at 25, come on, that’s just the beginning). Anyway, that’s just life, trying out stuff, making mistakes and at the end, maybe, find your place. 

There are good things to come, I think, and right now I’m excited for the FE OC Week. 

Anyway, happy 27th birthday to me! I’m happy to turn 27, I like this number and beside, every year imparts me with more wisdom and life experience. Which is good. And as Julian of Norwich wrote: “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well”. 

[littlegodzilla]

Next chapter about The Farmer!!

Thanks for your comments and reblogging for the first chapter! If I'm honest I didn't expect that someone read it.

I hope you'll like this one too!!

As I said the firsts chapters are to introduce our man to the story, then the story will go faster.

Enjoy!!

The Farmer Masterlist

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The Farmer.

John Rollins x FemReader.

Mini series. Chapter 2.

Warnings: Domestic life. Awkward moments. Making friends. Slow burn.

Words: 4200.

Summary: John's still trying to fit in his new life. But it's easier when you and his neighbor help him.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

≈≈≈≈≈≈

The good thing about anxiety and light sleep is that it allows John to wake up early. Maybe more than necessary, but it's a good excuse to get to work. His body resents and protests the poor posture after falling asleep on the couch. He grunts in pain, rubbing the back of his neck, and makes himself a cup of coffee while washing his face in the bathroom and going back to the planning he has prepared for the farm. He doesn't want to put a very extensive field of corn, because cultivating it requires great use of water and his water is limited, not to mention that he is a beginner and hopes to make some profit for next year, with some crops and fruit trees he is already late, but if he can get them at a good price he will buy them anyway for the next seasons, the orchard he wants to cultivate is the simplest part, for his own consumption he does not need much land, he only has to deal with the weeds, plow the land and prepare the ridges for the irrigation of the vegetables. His eyes then fix on the folder on the table and he makes a mark on the back of his hand to remind himself to take it with him.

After breakfast he leaves the house looking at all the land he has, his first task is to get the tractor out of the barn, he has managed to get it started, now he has to make sure it is working properly and that no part is missing that would prevent him from working. Again the roar of the engine encourages him, he climbs into the huge vehicle and pulls it out of the barn, hidden behind it are several devices that will help him in the task. He doesn't know how long he has been on the tractor, but when he takes a look behind him, he has already managed to till much of the land, he doesn't have much left, so he hurries the last meters of land before leaving the tractor to one side near the barn where he will mount the seeder to go distributing the grains of corn, but first he has to mark how far he wants to expand the area and where he wants to place everything else. Not to mention he needs a power tiller for the orchard area, the tractor is too big and will make furrows he doesn't need, maybe he can buy one at the green house or borrow one from Hershel.

He looks at his watch and is surprised at how quickly the morning has gone by. He quickly goes into the house to take a shower and change his clothes, he can't walk around the dirt and sweat filled town.

**

He parks the van in the nursery like the day before, today it seems that there are not so many people and he feels a strange relief, that they do not see his clumsiness in the subject relaxes him. He takes out the folder with the papers and enters the greenhouse to look for you. Your companions quickly notice him and greet him like a normal customer, but their eyes follow him as he wanders around the large room, discovering the shelves with fertilizers and herbicides. He'll need that, too, later.

"Good morning, John." You greet him as he returns to the counter and you finish serving another customer.

"Good morning." Your name sounds strange in his ears and mouth, but he tries not to think about it. "I'm bringing you the water discharge form." He explains and you nod, taking the papers he hands you.

"Perfect, with this we can..." You shut up when you discover that in the remarks he has noted that he attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. "T-there was no need for you to put... it doesn't mean that kind of... you're not the only one..." You don't know how to explain and you feel your cheeks redden.

"I know, but it's part of my therapy, my sponsor advised me to always make it clear, I don't introduce myself as 'I'm John, alcoholic' to everyone, but this is like a job, so... I should make it clear." You nod as you understand what he's referring to and smile again downplaying it.

"All right, well, with that we can discharge you. I'll process it today so that you can use it tomorrow."

"Thank you very much, that reminds me that I have to clean the raft." He says wryly and you can't help but chuckle and look at him with mock pity.

"You're in for some rough days." You joke and he agrees with a murmur. "Do you need anything else?"

"I didn't want to take it away so soon, but... Do you have sacks of corn grain? I've started tilling the ground so I'll start planting what I already have ready." It's one of the things to cross off his to-do list and the sooner the better.

"Yeah, sure, do you know how much you're going to need?"

"I'll take a couple of sacks for now, if I need more, I'll be back." He shrugs as he follows you through the huge place to where you have the sacks laid out, there's corn, barley, wheat, even animal feed on the shelves next to it. "Thirty kilos, yes, I think two will be enough." He thinks out loud and helps you put them on a cart to better carry it to the car.

You go back to the main counter, charge him for the sacks of corn and help him load them into the truck. John thanks you once again and you shake your head.

"So... Are you adjusting well?" You ask him curiously.

"For the time being, ask me next week." He jokes rolling his eyes. "I forgot, I need a power tiller for the orchard, do you guys bring machinery?"

"No, sorry..." You tell him sorry for not being able to help him. "But I can ask around, maybe I can find some old model that someone is trying to sell..."

"That would be enough, thanks." He smiles and you shake your shoulders.

"It's nothing, I have your phone number on the form, so if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

John nods again grateful for your attention. You wave goodbye to him as you hear your coworkers call your name and head back to work, the new farmer stands there for a few seconds, before turning around as well and getting into the truck, heading back to his farm.

"So the new guy, huh?" You hear the voice of one of your coworkers and you frown.

"What?"

"That you seem to be getting along with the new guy." She repeats and you stammer for a second.

"I was just giving him a hand." You fight back and pick up the form. "I'm going to sign him up for irrigation so he can get water from the canal tomorrow." You try to ignore your partner's sly smile.

"Do you want to give him a hand with anything else?" You hear the laughter and roll your eyes.

"Shut up already." You whisper trying to concentrate on the form.

**

John feels himself getting dizzy on the tractor. He shakes his head and stops it. He hasn't noticed the time, he's been sitting there in the sun for too long and hasn't eaten anything since first thing in the morning. He doesn't have much time left to finish planting the corn, but he's exhausted, and if he goes on any longer he's afraid he might fall off the tractor.

He turns off the engine, gets out of the vehicle and walks back to the house, turns on the tap of a small sink on the side of the house and wets his forehead and the back of his neck to reduce the heat that runs through his body. When he arrives, he prepares himself something quick and grabs a bottle of water, sitting down on the sofa, feeling his body relax. He doesn't know how long he lays there transfixed but he opens his eyes as the bottle slips from between his fingers and it's already starting to get dark.

"Shit..." He whispers sitting up and picks up the bottle leaving it back in the kitchen, he needs to finish with the tractor, if he gets the water passage tomorrow as you told him that morning, he needs to get everything ready today.

"I see you are getting serious about being a farmer." He listens as he leaves the house, discovering that Hershel is there and seems to be waiting for him. He nods to him and walks down the stairs to join him.

"I haven't done anything serious, just plowing the land a bit and putting out the corn grain." He explains, crossing his arms.

"Not bad for a first day, you've fenced the land." He says as he sees that the tractor is tucked into an area surrounded by some wooden fences.

"Actually it was already fenced in, so I just took advantage of the fact that the area was already limited... Should I fence it all in?"

"Are you going to have animals?" He asks and John shakes his head. "Then it's not necessary, but when the corn starts to grow maybe you should keep an eye on those fences to make sure they resist wild boars that want to come in."

"Thanks." He looks at him relieved and notes the information in his mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, I got a call this afternoon because someone was looking for a power tiller and I wanted to come over to find out what exactly you need." He smiles kindly and John laughs through his nose. Your name comes to his mind and he thanks you for the help.

"I'm not sure yet, I wanted to start with the strongest thing first and then the whole orchard, I don't want something too big, so..." He shrugs and then laughs. "I don't know what exactly I want to grow either. I'm going to need help with that."

"Don't worry, when you get it all figured out, I can give you a hand with that."

"I'd appreciate it, but I need to finish that first." He points to the tractor.

Hershel snorts understanding the dilemma and weariness the young farmer presents, he gives him a few gentle taps on the back to cheer him up.

"Have you been discharged from irrigation yet?"

"Yes, I brought the form today, one of the girls helped me with it." When he says your name out loud, Hershel smiles under his beard.

"Very well, in that case I'll let you finish so you can leave it watered tomorrow." He bid him farewell. "Will we see you next meeting?"

"Sure, I'll be there." He nods and as Hershel walks away he walks back to the tractor.

**

Water rushes out of the raft tube beginning to fill. John howls with glee as he sees the clean water begin to fill his well and lets it continue to do so, when it is about to fill completely he will open the canal to fill the corn field. Today he is going to focus on the water, he doesn't want to lose a drop or have it overflow from the pond and not notice. He has some papers to sort out so he goes back inside the house listening to the splashing of the water behind him.

The house papers are finally in order, the last bills that were in his name are paid, everything he had in the city finally seems resolved and for a second he feels his heart soar, he is tempted to call Mark to tell him that everything is resolved, that his debts are settled, but he restrains himself, no, he can do this on his own, maybe he will call him later or talk to him at the meeting next week, but not now.

He hears a motor in the street that alerts him. He gets up from the couch walking out to the driveway, a pickup truck parks next to the corn fence. He frowns, the raft isn't full yet, but he takes the opportunity to approach too and opens the channel so that the sprinklers start watering the field. Then you get out of the truck and greet him with a smile.

"Good morning." You say approaching towards him, John relaxes and nods when you are closer.

"Good morning... Is something wrong?" he questions you rubbing his hands against his jeans.

"No, no, Hershel asked me to come and bring you something." You play it cool and point to the back of the vehicle.

John raises an eyebrow curiously, makes sure the water is under control and follows you discovering in the back a power tiller strapped down with several straps so it wouldn't move from the rattling dirt ground. He gasps in surprise and leans against the truck, looking at the tool with curiosity. It may be about five years old, but it's in perfect condition, the blades are still sharp, the wheel hasn't lost any air, there's no rust at first glance and no major parts are missing.

"It's fantastic, but... I don't think I can afford it."

"No need, Hershel says he doesn't need it, at the farm we use a newer model." You explain and climb into the load of the truck to untie the power tiller.

"Are you his daughter?" he asks you as he climbs up too to help you, it's a heavy machine and he doesn't want you to hurt yourself.

"Hershel's? No." A laugh escapes you. "I'm friends with one of his daughters, Maggie, I give them a hand with the animals and the fields." You shrug and between the two of you lower the device to the ground.

"Do you help out in the fields too?" He looks at you in surprise and reaches over to shut off the water as the raft is pretty full and lets it run off into the corn field, then fills it back up. "When do you sleep?" he jokes and you let out a chuckle with a shrug.

"I like it, I do it in my spare time, I'm not always there, and less so now that the winter season is approaching." You laugh again and John watches you silently.

"Hey... Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yeah, sure, tell me."

"I need advice about fruit trees." He gestures to you and you follow him to the other side of the farm. "I want to put all the fruit trees here, peach, almond, some plum, lemon or orange trees, or both..." He bites his nail thoughtfully. "Maybe a hundred of each... What do you think?"

"Not a bad idea... You said you were going to sell some at the nursery, right?" John nods and you mentally do the math. "In that case you should put in two hundred of each... otherwise the production will be too tight for your consumption and then the sale." You explain.

"Can you advise me what will go best for this time of year? Or for this land in general."

"Sure, you can stop by the nursery anytime and we'll look at what we can order, we'll have it all ready for the winter season, which will start in mid-December..." You look at him hesitating a bit as you imagine he would want to get started on something already.

"Uhm and if I buy them now, from those you have in the nursery..."

"They're a bit more expensive, I wouldn't recommend you buy them like that..."

"Ok, then tomorrow I'll come by the nursery."

"Okay, well I've got to get to work now, I'll see you tomorrow, John."

"Yeah, and thanks for bringing me the tiller." He looks at you gratefully, you smile sheepishly as you shake your head and walk back to the truck along with his company. "See you tomorrow." He bids you farewell and lets you leave his farm, following the trail of the car with his eyes.

When the car disappears from his field of vision, John checks the corn field, turns off the water and lets the raft fill completely and pulls his phone out of his pocket to call Mark.

"You remembered me sooner today, I'm flattered." He listens on the other end and snorts through his nose.

"If I don't call you you get all hysterical mother, so I go ahead." He defends himself.

"Speaking of mothers, have you called yours?"

"Yes, you know I have, I'm sure she's called you too."

"A couple of times, just to make sure you're okay, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." He rolls his eyes. "That's why I'm calling, I'm still working on the farm and it keeps my mind busy."

"I'm glad, I think this change will do you good, John."

**

He closes the van door walking towards the nursery entrance as he puffs hard on his cigarette and blows the smoke out his nose. He flicks the butt on the ground before entering and walks up to the counter where one of your coworkers is standing.

"I think they're surviving." He laughs softly. "I was just coming to take a look at the trees you have..."

"Hi, how are things at the farm?" She asks him curiously.

"Did they explain the rates for the campaign?"

"Yes, but I wanted to take something with me already anyway, so I'll have something in advance next year."

"Very well." With a shout she calls out to you and you appear through one of the greenhouse doors. "Will you show him the fruit tree display?" She asks and you nod.

"Sure, come with me, John."

"Thank you very much." He says to your companion, Rachel, and follows you to the other side of the enclosure where you have several lines of trees already two or three years old.

"Have you decided yet?" You ask him and he shakes his head.

"Not yet, but I wanted to see what you have first."

"I think I'll take ten of each..." He rubs his chin thoughtfully.

He wanders through the different lines of trees, cherry trees, apple trees, Kakis, pear trees, there is a little of everything, he also finds lemon and orange trees, some even already bearing fruit, he smiles brushing his fingers over a still growing orange and you watch him curiously. You cross your arms waiting for him to decide on something, the morning is quiet, you were busy taking inventory and that is certainly more entertaining than crunching numbers.

"We can leave them ready for when you come looking for them..." You nod watching him examine each tree, he may not be an experienced farmer, but he knows what he's looking for.

"Can I leave the order ready for everything, including these?"

"No problem with that, I'll leave everything ready for you."

As you prepare his order your companions don't take their eyes off him, he's only been in town for a few days, he's still an outsider, he knows that, but he didn't expect people to be so intense, nor brazen, he can feel their eyes burning into his skin and he feels nervous. He can't tell exactly if they are judging him or just curious about him.

"Are you alone at the Moonson farm?" one of your companions asks and you stop writing, opening your eyes wide.

"Excuse me?" John blinks several times.

"You always come alone...we were wondering if your wife and children..."

"I'm not married." He cuts off her explanation and looks away, uncomfortably. "Yes, I'm here alone..."

"The house must get huge when you're there."

"Well, I try not to think about that too much, I concentrate on the field." He purses his lips into a line, an uncomfortable smile.

"The order is done." You rush to finish it and give him a copy. "For the display trees you can come by anytime to pick them up and the rest we'll call you when we have it ready." You explain and leave the counter to escort him out so your coworkers don't keep bombarding him with questions.

"Well, thank you, you're really being a great help." He laughs sheepishly and you shake your head.

"That's what we're here for, for anything, you know where to find us." You say goodbye to him and go back inside the tent. "What was that all about?"

"I was just curious, besides, this way you could clear your doubts."

"Doubts?"

"Don't look at me like that, we've all noticed that you like him."

"Oh for..." You mumble and cover your face with both hands. "He's cute, but he's only been here a week, I don't even know him! I-I'm just trying to be nice." You defend yourself but your companions' faces don't change and you decide to hide back in the inventory.

You need to get your mind on something else.

**

John parks the truck in the driveway of the Greene family farm, he wants to thank Hershel for the power tiller. As he drives up to the house he notices how large the man's land is, he has animals, crops, horses. He is a really busy man. He hesitates for a moment when he reaches the front door, but knocks and steps back a few paces, waiting. Beth opens the door and smiles at him.

"Hi, can I help you with something?"

"Uhm, I was just coming to see your father, is he home?"

"He's in the stables, treating one of the horses."

"Then I'll come another time, I don't want to intrude."

"No, no need. Come with me." She leaves the house leading John toward the stables where Hershel is handling a mare who looks uneasy. "Dad, John Rollins is here to see you." She tells him and the man releases the animal for a second.

"John, hi, I wasn't expecting you here."

"I was just coming back from town and wanted to stop by to thank you for the power tiller." He explains holding out his hand as a thank you, Hershel shakes it tightly and smiles under his beard. "As soon as I'm done with the orchard I'll give it back to you."

"No, that's not necessary, consider it a welcome gift."

"I can't accept it, it's in perfect condition, I... I can pay for it in installments."

"We don't use it here anymore, really you can keep it." He insists. "Don't do that to a poor old man."

"Dad..." Beth interjects and Hershel laughs again.

"It's okay, I don't want there to be any fighting." John jokes. "I'll keep it, but on one condition."

"You say."

"Let me help you in your fields, I need to learn to cultivate my own..."

"I can help you with yours, I can ask one of my boys to give you a hand, surely they remember it all better than I do."

"But I'd still owe you a favor." He protests and Hershel snorts thoughtfully.

"In that case help me with Nelly, I have to change a shoe that's bothering her and I alone can't handle it." He offers, John doesn't particularly like horses, but accepts the deal. "And then you'll help me with the barbecue, today my men have worked hard and deserve a good dinner."

"Of course." John smiles a little more cheerfully, Beth leaves them alone and walks over to Hershel laying his plaid shirt over the door of the horse's stall as he holds it from the bit.

"All right, hold her steady." He asks him and the two men get down to business.

Managing and handling Nelly is more difficult than he expects. The animal is skittish and nervous, every time Hershel holds her paw the animal keeps kicking and rolling around, but they finally manage to change her shoe and leave the animal alone who is already starting to get stressed.

"Thank you, John."

"It was nothing, shall we go get the barbecue?" he jokes wiping the sweat from his forehead.

**

The atmosphere is pleasant, Hershel and his family have set up a large table near the barbecue with wooden benches so that everyone can eat comfortably, he smiles turning some pork ribs, there are several employees, Beth talks to a young guy that he imagines is Jimmy, Hershel places the plates and cutlery next to Patricia. Then he sees you appear with Maggie and an Asian boy who is holding hands with the Greene's oldest daughter, you are still wearing your work clothes, but your face is more relaxed and you laugh with the couple quietly.

"Would you like one?" Beth's voice brings him out of his thoughts and he sees her offering him a can of coke, John smiles gratefully taking the can.

"Thanks, it's actually too hot in here." He jokes and the young blonde smiles sheepishly.

"Dad likes to barbecue, but he always tricks someone to avoid the fire." She laughs looking at him regretfully and he gestures, understanding and nods laughing as well.

"He's a good player, no doubt."

"I'll let Jimmy know to take care of the meat, in case you want to walk around and talk to someone." She shrugs and walks away leaving John alone again.

When Jimmy replaces him and walks around the table, a few people stop to talk, introduce themselves and John feels comfortable, some are carrying beer in their hands, but he doesn't feel uncomfortable around them, he feels a touch on his arm and sees you next to him with a soda.

"Learning to be a farmer?" you joke pointing to his tank top and plaid shirt tied around his waist.

"Horse breaker." You both laugh at his comment. "I came to thank him for the power tiller and he's roped me into making the meat." He jokes again and you nod.

"Oh yeah, that's Hershel's best trick, be careful or he'll do it every chance he gets."

John eats and stands on one side of the table watching curiously, the group is varied, both in age and people in particular and they all fit together perfectly, they talk to each other, share stories, laugh out loud. It all seems really familiar. Their eyes fall on you then, with the Greene sisters, talking and laughing too, joking, you are totally at your ease, comfortable, relaxed, enjoying the food and the company. Your gazes meet for a moment, your smile doesn't falter, but stop talking without looking away from him, John smiles a little too, but doesn't look away either.

***

To be continued...

****

Okay I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapters!!

[ursulaismymiddlename]

no pressure tags, feel free to ignore: @duckland @laurelwen @nightmares-and-fascinations @whats-rambled-rambled

Fic ideas for Jake (Sweetbitter) x You that i've been kicking around, but probably won't ever write:

You were a barista at a coffee shop that Jake frequented, at the start of the fic he hasn't seen you in awhile (he wasn't actually keeping track, but he remembers faces) and then one day you're at the restaurant

---

“Coffee shop girl?”

“.... Large black Americano, 2 pumps vanilla?”

“You remember.” (that dumb smirk of his)

“Yeah, you have your regulars, I have mine.”

“Sure, but what are you doing here? Doesn’t exactly seem your type of place.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you’re some bright-eyed early bird barista.  Shouldn’t you be gettin to bed soon?”

“So you’re mistaking my customer service persona for actually knowing me? Hmm… interesting.”

— “Oh, Jake, I see you’ve met the new line cook.  She’s going to start fielding the expanded dessert menu until we can get a pastry chef hired.”

---

In an effort to be as big of an asshole as you perceive him to be, you keep referring to him as Statefarm (Like Jake, from Statefarm)... this may or may not catch on to others at the restaurant. And you give him shit about being from Cape Cod all the time (personally, I'm from St Louis, which seems like naive midwest shit, but statistically is a tougher area than ThE cApE so I enjoying the idea of making fun of him for it)

---

it's clearly antagonistic to start (a little Beatrice and Benedick going on) though y'all slowly start to become kinda friends and then probably more than that

---

"Yo, Statefarm, I need some Grandma."

"Drinkin on the job, coffee girl?"

"I got a tableside Flambé, so make with the booze, barboy."

---

Making homey food for family meals since you're the FNG and put in charge of the bitch work, especially when you're pulling double duty making prepping desserts for dinner service...

And making a particularly good looking/tasting dish, enough to even momentarily impress Jake and giving him a shit eating grin and a snooty "That's why I'm here, asshole."

---

At one point Jake catching you in the walk-in, visibly upset

“What happened?”

“Nothin.  Go back to the bar.”

*blocks exit from walk-in* “What. Happened?”

 “I said nothin!  … *insert some name* was just being stupid and it got to me alright?”

“What did he say to you?”

*something about fucking a manager but not being pretty enough to be FoH and being given a spot in the kitchen*

Jake’s jaw clenches and he turns on a heel without another word, storming out of the walk-in in search of the offending person

---

I had a separate silly thought of you having to use the kitchen-supplied knives because you haven't been able to afford your own knife set yet and maybe catching a little (mostly jovial) flack for it, and maybe he gets one decent one for you or some shit haha

"Look, I saw it on sale while I was ordering some other stuff, so I thought I'd pick it up for ya. Maybe now you can stop bothering everyone else for theirs."

"Jake, I... thank you. How can I repay you?"

"Well, for starters, you can try this new cocktail I've been working on..." *pops open the bottle that came in the package*

---

“Wow, did you take these photos?  They’re gorgeous!  And is that… the hostess? Oh wow, she’s beautiful, all of these are so beautiful.  But there’s something about them that feels so..  I mean I’m no art critic but… Nevermind, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, go on.  Tell me.”

“Well, just… everything looks… out of touch. Disconnected.  There’s a beautiful woman in your bed and you’re miles away.  Guess life is easier through a camera lens… Sorry, I talk too much. Project too much too probably.”

“You’re right… You do talk too much.”

*rolling your eyes* “Shut up and make me a drink, Statefarm.”

---

Getting tipsy with Jake, he reminds you about your vlog for the folks back home and you decide to make one at his place, he’s just tipsy enough he’ll make an appearance, there’s some banter, later after posting someone you know comments “so when y’all gonna kiss?” and Jake decides to tease you about it whenever y’all get into your banter.

---

“I deserve to be pursued, to be worshiped.  I don’t think I’ll ever have that, but I still deserve it!”

“Why wouldn’t you get that?”

“Have you LOOKED at me, Jake?  I’m a pudgy wannabe pastry chef. Lol”

“I’d fuck you.”

“You’d fuck anything that consents.”

“That’s probably the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.”

---

Simone fucked off to France with Etienne, Jake is trying to recover, gets a letter saying she's signing over her half of the house to Jake so he owns in full, her final goodbye, totally cutting him off now, which leads to some appropriate emotional drama

---

"Now the house is sold, me and *some cook name* are looking to start our own place. Got a space and everything.  You should come with us."

"I'm not a chef, Jake."

"No, but you're a good cook. You could make your diner food. We could do brunch on the weekends. I'll sling mimosas and bloody Maries to the waiting crowd. C'mon it'll be fun.  I think you'd really enjoy it."

---

“When are you gonna let me kiss you?”

“Maybe one day, if you mean it.”

“And if I mean it now?”

“Then kiss me, Statefarm… See? You don’t mean shi–”

*grabs face, interrupting you with a kiss*

“Don’t fuck with me, Jake.  You know I’m not about this fuckboy bullshit.”

“I’m not fuckin with you, okay?  I’m not. I want you. And I think you want me too.”

This is all just shit I have in my doc, maybe another couple little ideas floatin around, but here's the long and short of the idea haha If you've read this far, thanks! ^_^