#this has been in my drafts for many moons but it remains A Lot :'(

[sounwise]

CH: How have you dealt with your bereavement? PM: The main answer is my kids. I don’t know what I would have done without them. Being such a close family, it hit us pretty much equally. They lost their best friend as well as their mum. It hit us all hard, but they have been very strong and very helpful. We’ve cried a lot together. None of us has held that back. We pretty much still cry, daily. Because Linda was so important, so much the center of everything in our lives. So it was mainly the kids. But I did get a counselor, realizing that I would need some sort of help. And although it’s not much of a British tradition to do that, I was married to an American so I know quite a lot of people who have no problem with psychiatrists and counselors. Funnily enough, Linda used to know psychiatrists when when was young; she’d say, “I used to sort out all their problems for them.” And you know that’s true. So I knew a particular one, who I talked to. He was a good help. It was mainly to get rid of some of my guilt. When anyone you love this much dies, one of the first things is that you wish you could have been perfect—every minute of every day. But nobody’s like that. I would say to Linda if we were arguing, “Look, I’m not Jesus Christ. I’m not a saint. I’m just some normal man. I’ll try to do something about it but that’s who I am, that’s who you’re married to.” So I had quite a bit of guilt and probably still have. You remember arguments. When you’re married you don’t remember them so much, you just get on the next day and as long as you don’t have too many and they’re not too bad you figure it evens itself out. But when someone dies, you remember only the arguments in the first couple of weeks and the moments when I wasn’t as nice as I would have wanted to be. So I need counseling with that. I found that really helpful. (continued under the cut)

[—from “Tears and Laughter” in USA Weekend (October 30, 1998)]

Friends have been very supportive, we’ve got a lot of lovely sincere friends who, because of the nature of Linda and I, unless they’re sincere they’re not our friends anyway, and they’ve been very helpful. And funnily enough, and something that I didn’t expect, the public at large have been a huge help. I thought that if you didn’t know Linda, you might not get it. But I was wrong. So many of the thousands of letters that I got said, “Although we never met Linda, you could tell that she was a great woman.” For some of them, it was because of her attitude to animals. A lot of others said it was because of the way that she brought up our kids. Yet they wouldn’t even know that we had kids, you hardly ever saw their pictures in the paper, we guarded their privacy in case when they grew up they wanted it. We figured you couldn’t rob them of that. The public said, a lot of them said, “It was just the way that she brought the family up,” and I realized that so many people did get what Linda was about. From one little fragment, you could tell. It still shone through. The public sent very uplifting quotes and prayers. A lot of them had been through a similar grief. They’d write and say how they’d lost their wife and this little poem they’d enclose had sustained them. A lot of people sent me a lot of good stuff that helped me. But it was mainly the kids. Now, when I get sad, I do pretty often; like if I go for a ride she’s not with me—I find myself going down, I let myself go down for a moment, just because I have to. And then I try to counterbalance it and think that Linda’s life was very upbeat. She wasn’t a downbeat kind of person, so she wouldn’t like it now if I went downbeat. She was always the one for the joke. If you spat inadvertently while you were talking to her, she’d say, “Do you serve towels with your showers?” She just had a line for everything. If you looked a little inattentive while she’s talking she’d say, “What, am I boring you?” She was a really funny lady, very witty. A delicious sense of humour. She was happy. So I use that now. I balance every sad moment with a happy moment. That kind of helps day to day. It helps me get through.

[cb-writes-stuff]

Because of this post, I’m gonna be dropping some info about my WIP, which is currently going by the codename…

Project Opal

…because I can’t think of a proper title. (Now that I’ve shared this, I can finally start tagging stuff with it.)

Synopsis

Nauth never understood why things happened. Why the wind comes alive at noon and dies in the evening. Why some moons in the sky are smaller than others. Why he lost his parents. Why an ordinary man’s life is thrown into chaos.

Things had been going well. He had good friends, a home, and even prospects of a better job. Everything turns upside down on the Night of Wyrd’s Watch, when an attempt on his life forces him to flee the city.

As far back as he could remember, Nauth has always had why’s. Is this the time to find a because? Or is it merely the start of a life constantly on the run from death?

Character descriptions below the cut.

Character Descriptions

Nauth - A second-generation native of Kem lon-Dalan, Nauth currently lives alone, working as a stablehand at the Fox and Rabbit alongside Ven to provide for himself. He’s rather reserved about himself and his past, but still quite outgoing. He’s playful, but also has a hard line of what he will and won’t put up with (even if that line does move around a lot).

He’s not especially tall, usually an inch or two shorter than the average man on the street. Granted, people in the Vandeth Desert are generally taller than usual. Compared to Delgane people, on the other hand, he’s around average height. His skin and eyes are darker than a native, but he hardly stands out in the wide array of nationalities in the city.

Ven - Ven fits the typical idea of a shodathi*. Sun-tanned, light on his feet, and a little cheeky. Ven’s family took in Nauth many years ago after his parents died, and he and Ven grew up as brothers, almost from birth. Even after Nauth moved back to his family home, they remained quite close. Now, they work together at the same job.

*The Vandeth word for “person”; also used to mean a native of the Vandeth Desert, typically by heritage as well as citizenship.

Lynn - For reasons unknown, Lynn moved to Kem lon-Dalan with her younger sister almost seven months ago, leaving their homeland of Delgan. They both took jobs at the Fox and Rabbit, Lynn working in the stables with Nauth and Ven. The three of them quickly became friends. With their help, Lynn learned the Vandeth language, though she still struggles to speak it. Her peachy complexion and long honeygold hair made her an exotic sight in the desert, landing her a job serving wine inside. She also sings for tips.

Lynn is typically very easy-going and fun. At times she can be possessed by self-righteousness and haughtiness, courtesy of her Delgane upbringing. She can appreciate a good joke, though. A good joke.

Fun fact: Lynn was actually male in earlier versions of the story, and will likely be male again in future drafts. For reasons.

Other Things I Wanna Say

So, Nauth’s storyline isn’t the only one. There’s also gonna be one that follows Ven and Lynn, and at least one more following another character. But if I had to pick, I would say that Nauth is the main character. But Ven and Lynn are important too.

[emcscared-whumps]

WiJ 2023 - 01: Introduce Yourself

WiJ 2023 Navigation Post

(I'll put my favourite tropes under the cut because this post is getting a bit long, oops lol)

Re-Introduction

I've been in the Tumblr whump community for a couple of years now, but hello and welcome to everyone both old and new to my blog! I'm emc, and I'm an Australian writer and artist specialising in the bloodthirsty subject matter we all love here on whumpblr! I mostly reblog at this stage, but I love to participate in community events, and have plenty in the works :)

I create original whump works. I'm only in one fandom, Danny Phantom, so I will occasionally reblog stuff from there.

Project Updates!

I'm completely, totally obsessed by one singular whumpee... so everything I work on centers around him... lol

Anyways, so, it turns out that SP multiplied...

Shifting Phases - This is gonna be a loooooong fic lol, but! I'm making good progress, and I've managed to stay inspired and motivated for +6 years, so you can count on it getting finished, no matter how long it takes :)

10 of 59 chapters are drafted, one of which is pending review,

8 of the remaining 50 chapters are in progress,

The word-count as of writing this post is 23.5k.

I'm sure a few of you have followed for this fic/pieces of the boi, and I think about that constantly especially since it's still a major wip lol ^-^' Not worry, I will not rush uwu

I'll link the masterpost of it though because I keep it updated with my progress, and also any good snippets I write :)

Full Moon Waning - Because I'm horrible and have so many thoughts all the time, I've actually started planning this; the sequel to Shifting Phases! I think I have some cool whump ideas, and it provides another chance to explore the worldbuilding and character backstories, so I think it has a lot to offer and will be fun to write :)

Plotting; jotting down vague ideas and arranging them in a semi-coherent order.

Eclipse Descending (AU) - Oh this one is incredibly fun and fucked up, and somehow manages to be SO much darker in which Pete falls down a terrible path and becomes a hunter. It goes about as well as you'd expect lol. I explained the premise to a friend and she wondered, since it was so compelling, why it wasn't canon, and man, that's a fun thing to hear. It also means it's gonna be an absolute behemoth...

Plotting and detailing scenes simultaneously.

Caesar Salad (AU) - Remember how I said I wanted to stab my whumpee during the Ides of March? Guess which concept got WAY out of hand XD It will be a much shorter fic, but it's still a major project. It's an alternate secret reveal, so, it's an AU.

Detailing the scenes while trying desperately to come up with a resolution ^-^'

Anything Else? - Yep! I have a few other little scene/whump ideas that I'll eventually write out, but for now, I just keep them stored in a little au/idea doc. I'm still also working slowly on my BTHB card, and also the gift and several treats for the exchange I mentioned earlier, but I shan't be spoiling those :)

Favourite Tropes

Those of you who've been around me/know me will find that I am indeed very consistent XD Some of my favourite tropes include:

Bad caretaker/s

Collapse

Compromised mobility

Dehumanisation and animalisation

Domestic abuse

Emotional whump

Environmental whump

Hyper/hypothermia

Long-term injuries and scars

Near-death of the whumpee

Nightmares/Night terrors

Nonhuman whumpees (usually vampires, demons... and especially mer)

Panic attacks

PTSD

Restraints, especially creative ones

Secret angst-- whumpee having to keep their species/identity secret for their personal safety, and because they fear they'll be rejected by the ones they love most

Severe sickness

Species-specific whump

Starvation

Transformation whump

... and so many more...! Also, caretakers and whumpers are not necessary for me to enjoy the whump ^-^

[ivanttakethis]

A STAR IS BORN: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH “THE STAR OF SEASON 39” TOV

At the top of Season 39’s leaderboard with 77 points, Tov once again sat down with ALIEN STAGE MAGAZINE for an exclusive one-on-one interview!

————————————————————

Hi Tov, how have you been? I believe some congratulations are in order for your top score!

Tov: Thank you. I’ve been well. It’s nice to see you again.

So tell me, what was it like to earn the highest score of the season so far?

Tov: It was definitely unexpected. After Khoi won his round with 70 points, I was just hoping for somewhere in the top three or five. I didn’t think I would match his score, let alone surpass it. But I guess the audience really liked my performance.

When you saw your final score up on screen, what was going through your mind?

Tov: The shock is what hit me first. I was still trying to catch my breath from singing, so it took a minute for me to register what I was seeing. And then I just kept staring at the screen and thinking: “Is this real?” “Is that really my score?” I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.

Let’s talk about your last minute song change for Round 10. We’ve all been dying to know what led you to make the decision to switch so late. What was your thought process? Were there outside influences?

Tov: No, nothing like that. It was a personal choice. I lost someone very important to me in Round 7, and I wanted to honor him with my performance since he never got the chance to see me sing. But the song I originally chose didn’t feel right as a tribute.

I spent most of the time between Round 7 and Round 10 searching for the perfect piece, and only came upon Cosmic Love the night before. It fit so well that I did whatever it took to sing it, even if things were a bit rushed. I wouldn’t change anything about how the performance turned out.

Many are now calling you the “Star of Season 39”. How does that make you feel?

Tov: It’s an honor that people think so highly of my singing and I’m very grateful for their support. But now there’s also a lot of pressure to be as perfect as possible. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.

These next few questions come from some of your fans!

First up, BlueBluBleu asks: “Your outfit in your first round was so inspired! How do you plan your look before a performance? What goes into that?”

Tov: Thank you. My guardian would probably talk your ear off about our process. We started concept work on the outfits right after I was confirmed as a contestant for Season 39. I told Cassio that I wanted all of the designs to fit within the theme of stars and constellations. From there we went through several draft iterations trying to represent a different elements associated with that theme: stars, the night sky, the moon, meteor showers, things like that.

We also tried to incorporate the mood of the songs I planned to sing and the emotions I want to evoke in my performances in the fabric colors we chose. Everything we’ve done has been very intentional.

My first outfit was meant to resemble the night sky. So we started with a midnight blue dress as the sky itself, and then sewed on the diamonds as the stars. Cassio and I chose diamonds specifically so they would catch the lights and twinkle when I was on stage. It came together beautifully.

After I won Round 10, we got right back in the studio to work on my second round dress. It’s a different style from my previous one, but it is truly stunning and still fits my theme.

Next, a question from M00N: “Of the 13 remaining contestants, who are 3 you'd love to sing with and why?”

Tov: I’m very biased about this one, but I would love the opportunity to sing a duet with Himei. She’s one of my oldest friends and we haven’t sung together since our Anakt Garden days, so it’d be like stepping back in time and reliving simpler days. Our voices harmonize well together too. I think My Clematis would be a great song choice. It speaks to our relationship in a way.

I’m also biased on my second choice as it’s another close friend of mine. I’d love to sing with Nyx. He’s such a talented bassist and composer. It would be an honor to sing one of his original songs with him on stage. I’ve been wanting to for years now.

My last choice would be Cirrus. Their performance in Round 1 was absolutely captivating. Something about their voice has stuck with me, even through all of the subsequent rounds. It’s haunting, but in a good way. Great for songs with a slower tempo. I think I do well with slower songs too. Maybe we could do a ballad together?

And finally CastorKyo4Evr asks: “Which round so far, outside of your own, did you find the most inspired?”

Tov: I really enjoyed Round 4. It was our first duet of the season and it really got me thinking about all of the possibilities duets could bring to the table. There’s a lot of creativity and cooperation that goes into a joint performance and I found it very inspiring.

Himei and Min’s performance was also very high energy. The song choice played to both of their strengths so the audience got the best out of both of them. I think it really represented what ALIEN STAGE is all about: putting on the best show possible.

Since you scored the highest in Row 1, you’ll be the opening round for Row 2. Does that change anything for you, in comparison to your first round?

Tov: It does change things. The field is narrowing, which means the stakes will be higher. Lark didn’t have the chance to perform in Row 1, so he’s a bit of a wildcard to me. I’m not sure what to expect from him.

Then there’s also the added stress of being the opener. I must confess that I’m a bit nervous. But I’m sure Lark and I will both do our best to make Round 17 memorable for everyone.

What do you have planned for your next round? Will you still be singing for that important someone?

Tov: I’m always going to sing for him. But I’ll also be singing for other people who are important to me too. I hope they’ll be listening.

No hints on what’s to come. You will have to wait and see.

Tov returns to the stage with fellow contestant Lark in Round 17 of ALIEN STAGE Season 39!

————————————————————

This interview took place after Post Row 1 - Tov’s Log.

While Tov isn’t known for being overly talkative, Cassio taught her from a young age how to handle media and public relations matters.

She’s kind of like how Ivan was in his Outstanding Pupil Award interview, very good at coming across as pleasant and sociable.

Notice the difference between how Tov presents how things happened versus how they actually happened 👀

She knows she needs to spin this story and convince the AREPH that she’s not a threat.

The important people she planned to sing for in Round 17 were Nyx and Himei. But we all saw how that went…

Thank you to @lookatmysillies for the fan questions!

Khoi belongs to @junebluues.

Himei and Tallis (not mentioned by name, but we all know) belong to @lookatmysillies.

Nyx belongs to @rockwgooglyeyes.

Cirrus belongs to @yunoftheclouds.

Lark belongs to @kamersona.

[nslomo]

Mountain tattoo

#Mountain tattoo generator

#Mountain tattoo series

These mountain tattoos, due to their great use in recent times, are finding an audience among both men and women. They are usually placed on the arms, legs, forearms, ribs, chest, back or shoulders. Peace, tranquility, steadfastness and surpassing oneself are other meanings of mountain tattoos: they can convey all these qualities, especially when someone reaches the top of a mountain after long hours of via Instagram Ideas and P ossible O ptions For Mountain Tattoos for Men and Women Love of nature and all that composes it, especially when accompanied by drawings of streams and trees or even the sun or the moon. They also represent a place in the world that we want to remember or the memory of an event or important adventures that we have experienced there. These epic representations of nature are often included in mountain tattoo designs of other elements of nature. But they have so many separate meanings that they are often found alone. These meanings are: Mountains are nature's gifts welcoming the hikers who visit them and the people who live there. They stand before our eyes, majestic. There are very high mountains which represent a great challenge for those who wish to climb them. They have a lot of meanings which is why the use of this type of designs in mountain tattoos is such a booming via Instagram Meaning of Mountain Tattoos for Men and Women Mountain tattoos can have thousands of meanings already established by the designs themselves but which can be supplemented with other tattooed elements. They also have a personal meaning, which is why the true meaning, ultimately, will always be determined by the person wearing them. This way, the artist is aware of the process and I’m not picking things off the Internet blindly.”Should you go to her for a tattoo, rest assured, it’ll be an original.MOUNTAIN TATTOO DESIGN IDEAS FOR MEN AND WOMEN Lately, Jhaveri has been working with Warli artists from Maharashtra to come up with a sheet or two of flash tattoos “where the artist studies the human anatomy and composes designs based on different placements. I’ve also created literature around it, and when people ask about them, I try to introduce them to the original art forms that have inspired them.” “For each of these folk art forms, I’ve tried to explore in depth.

#Mountain tattoo generator

“Tattooing is a key income generator for a lot of these people who, let’s face it, often do not come from places of privilege.” She insists that the endeavour has to be to protect these art forms and help the artists behind them not repackage and sell it to an urban, Western audience who might think of it as ‘cool’ and ‘exotic’. This is tricky terrain, but Jhaveri also underlines the need to do what she and tattoo artists like her are doing – but ethically. To encourage the art form and its practitioners, Mo Naga has kickstarted an ambitious project for a physical space, the Godhna Gram in Manipur eventually, perhaps, he’ll put out a coffee table book documenting this culture. “I don’t talk too much about what I have discovered in my studies and travels over the past decade, we need to be careful and sensitive with the way we put out this information into the world,” he says. He remains wary of cultural co-option especially, because tattooing in Naga culture is a marker of identity. Whatever Mo Naga has learned has been evolved into what he calls neo-Naga tattoos: Where the styles are borrowed in part, not exported as a whole, as their meanings remain sacrosanct to the tribes that developed them. Mo Naga spent the better part of last decade touring the north-eastern states, living in villages, understanding the meanings of tattoos, methods of drafting tools from bamboo thorns and pigments from the flora of the region, techniques such as the Konyak style of tattooing, as well as the historical reasons why Naga tattoos are a cultural artefact on the verge of extinction. After a few years of exploring tattoo culture, almost as a hobby, he returned home to have his eyes opened to the rich tattooing traditions of the Naga tribes of his homeland.ĭocumenting vanishing tattoo tradition at Laruri Village, Phek district, Nagaland. But also, while still in college, to tattooing as an art form, where he could incorporate the design sensibilities that most influenced him. Over a decade ago, the Manipur-based artist trained at NIFT and felt drawn to the weaves of India.

Unlocking opportunities in Metal and MiningĪ post shared by Stick n Poke Tattoos by Aaradhya impulse is particularly strong for Mo Naga among India’s most respected tattoo artists today.

#Mountain tattoo series

Interview Series Business In The Week Ahead.

[dapandapod]

Dearest Pandolfius,

I have heard that you write excellent stories, so I have come to your askbox to humbly beg for some Lambden content. I'm thinking a Modern AU in which Aiden is a ballet dancer, but in one of his performances he stumbles on stage. Do whatever you want with that hehe.

Love, Jolfius

I am so sorry Jolfius my love, this took way too long to publish. It has been sitting in my drafts for ages because I couldn't think out a crude thing for Lambert to say. But here it is at last <3 (Oh yeah, and let's see if anyone catches my zelda reference ehehe)

Thank you @kuripon for beta reading and @all-hail-the-witcher for helping me do dancing somewhat correct, and @damatris for letting me borrow drunk sheep on a tightrope <3 You are the very best

Warnings: Mentions of serious injuries and recovery. Lambert shows he cares by getting angry, and poor dancing knowledge.

On Ao3 here

Lambert sits in the audience, his knee jumping. It is opening night and the company has been practicing for months. And practicing harder than probably most was his love, Aiden.

He doesn’t have a big part, staying towards the back of the corps sections. Nothing that can be too much. They are really lucky they decided to keep him, but Tissaia always had a good eye towards Aiden.

The curtains open, the orchestra starts, the ballerina on stage breaks her pose and starts her pirouettes and twirls, her complicated leaps and turns, ever graceful.

A man approaches her and together they dance to the trembling violins. It is beautiful, it is painful, it is aching and full of emotion. Two years ago, Aiden had been in an accident. A piece of scenery came undone, the moon literally falling down on stage. Luckily, Aiden was the only one who got hurt.

Nothing lucky about it, in Lambert's opinion.

The worst part of the injury had been the head trauma. He spent two weeks in a coma, and when he woke up, they discovered that he had lost sight in one eye and was suffering terrible migraines. His right knee had also taken a bad hit, and nothing pained Lambert’s heart more than watching Aiden get the news of his injuries.

Lambert had spent many months with him in the hospital, in physical therapy, cuddled together in their pitch black bedroom when the outside became too much.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could keep Aiden from his dreams.

The first time Lambert drove Aiden to the studio, they both were nervous. Tissaia said Aiden would always be welcome back, but they all knew they couldn’t afford a dancer that couldn’t dance.

“You could always become a teacher?” Lambert offered after a long silence, Aiden staring out the side window. “If you are half as good as that twat Vilgefortz, you would run him out of business. He looks  worse than a drunk sheep on a tightrope.” 

Aiden didn’t reply.

Somehow, Aiden had made it through a gentle training program. He was not the first dancer with injuries, and he wouldn’t be the last. His knee kept up surprisingly well, but his depth perception was fucked up now, so there had been some wobbly landings.

But how Aiden shined.

And here they are, after a long journey. Tissaia finally agreed to let Aiden be a corps dancer, to stand on stage again. Lambert follows the story with mild interest. It is an adaptation of a Polish fairytale about a sorceress, and a man bewitched to be her destiny. Despite being each other's halves, they fight like the sea fights the shore. 

It is a lot more complicated than that, but Lambert is not here for them. He sits with rapt attention, and after almost 45 minutes, Aiden steps out on stage.

It is hard to see him, hidden in the third row of dancers on the left side, but Lambert only has eyes for him. They fought about this. Hard and loud and angry.

Lambert thinks Aiden is an idiot for still trying, for not taking a step back, for risking everything all over again. The doctor had said one bad landing and Aiden might not even be able to walk again, yet alone dance.

But as the light shines on his hair, slicked back in a tight bun, his eyes rimmed with kohl, Lambert can see why Aiden fought him. The way he carries himself out here, how in control he is of his own body. He is beautiful. Alive. Happy.

He might never get a lead role, might never dance with the prima ballerina. But being out here is enough. Aiden lives and breathes for his dancing.

And just as Lambert relaxes, Aiden stumbles and winces. It is small, just a light misstep, but Lambert saw the wince, the clench of his jaw. 

Fuck.

As soon as the first intermission begins, Lambert goes backstage. Many of the dancers greet him, but he doesn’t have time. Aiden sits with his leg held high, muscles taped and tense. Worry and

anger well up in Lambert, and soon it spills over.

“I fucking told you this was a bad idea!” he spits, and Aiden jerks in surprise, turning to look at him.

“I’m fine, Lambs.”

“No, you are fucking not! I told you and you never listen!”

“Lambert.”

His tone is sharp, and Lambert draws in an angry breath. Holds it.

“Do you trust me?” Aiden asks him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

The anger drains out of him, but the worry remains.

“With my life,” he says quietly. “Just not with your legs.”

Aiden smirks, just on this side of dirty. The things they have done with those legs makes it hard to dispute just how much he trusts them, and Aiden knows it.

“Shut it,” Lambert mutters, and Aiden laughs, deep and happy.

Somewhere behind them, the stage manager yells the five minute warning, and Aiden pulls Lambert down into a kiss.

“I’m fine, Lambchops,” Aiden says against his lips and then he leans back. ”It was just a stumble. It happens, it hurts, but I’m alright. I have a half hour break before the next dance, and Triss will never let me out there if she decides I can’t. It’s fine.”

Lambert grumbles, but finds himself defeated.

He does trust Aiden, and he trusts Triss to keep Aiden down to earth. Aiden pulls him in for another slow, warm kiss, soothing the last remnants of anger and worry away.

“When we get home tonight, I got a surprise for you,” Aiden whispers, dragging his lips gently across Lambert's cheek. Fuck, how he loves this man.

Aiden doesn’t stumble again. His dance is flawless, and Lambert can’t breathe. When they get home, they are both exhausted. Lambert helps him with his night time routine of stretching and massaging.

He is beautiful, aching and full of emotion when he lowers himself down to one knee in front of Lambert. He is alive, happy and full of hope when he lifts a red velvet box and offers the ring inside to Lambert.

Once again, Lambert can’t breathe.

[cuddles-and-kisses]

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

[lokitvsource]

You came into the show with the idea of Loki clashing with the TVA already in place. How exactly does this kind of arrangement work at Marvel? Michael Waldron: There was a creative brief that was 20 pages or so that basically said: “We want to do something about Loki running up against the TVA. Here’s some different avenues that might be cool to explore.” It was really serving it up for writers as a jumping off point for us to put together our pitches. Then I went off and really worked on the idea of Loki being brought in to hunt another Loki, and that becoming the heart of the show, and the Loki/Sylvie relationship. The big thing that I did in my pitch — even as early as pitching it to Kevin [Feige] — I really walked through the six episodes, kind of similar to what they were. I knew I wanted Episode 3, for instance, to be a little bit of a Before Sunrise, with Loki and this character walking across this apocalyptic moon. But Marvel had the initial, probably the most important spark of genius, which was just Loki and the TVA.

Where did the idea of the variant being a female Loki come from? That was one of my ideas, that we then confirmed in the writers room. Yeah, we knew from the get-go that it was going to be Loki falling for another version of himself.

Why was that appealing to you? I love writing any romance; it’s fun. Especially, it hasn’t been done a ton in the MCU. There’s an obviously self-reflective quality to it. And a show that’s quite literally about self-love; it is Loki getting to see parts of himself. At the start of the show, he kind of hates himself. He assesses himself to Mobius as a villain. And then he meets Sylvie, and he sees her as someone on a heroic crusade. He sees the good in her, and is able to see the good in himself.

Mobius suggests that, of course, Loki fell in love with his own variant, because he’s a narcissist. Do you think he’d be capable of falling in love with someone who is not a version of himself? [Laughs] I don’t know if he didn’t fall in love with himself first. Maybe after that, but the first time he falls, maybe this is what it had to be.

What’s the key to telling a time travel story that takes advantage of the concept without confusing the audience? I think it’s doing a lot of work that the audience never sees. It’s really understanding the logic of this thing, building out the TVA as a real organization that actually exists in our minds. Our writers room, we had a TVA handbook, encyclopedia, what they do and why they do it, a glossary of terms. And then you want to only give the audience the absolute bare minimum to understand the story, and to just get swept up in the emotional stakes of everything. If the sci-fi of it all, if the time travel logic of this show did not hold up week to week, then that would have distracted from the emotional journeys of the characters. So I’m glad that even though everyone had to take their medicine a little bit, along with Loki, in episode one, I’m glad it didn’t distract from the story we were telling. And we had the benefit of Loki being the audience’s eyes in. The audience is learning as he is.

There’s a funny scene in Avengers: Endgame where the Avengers start arguing about exactly how time travel works in the MCU. How much did you have to study what other Marvel movies had done with the idea to make sure your rules were consistent? Fortunately, Endgame was the main one, and that’s how they understand it. The TVA is an organization that understands time travel on a deeper level, probably more comprehensively than the Avengers do in Endgame. We wanted to make sure we were staying true to any rules that they laid out, but sort of establishing our own rules. It’s a time travel show. What was I thinking? A movie’s one thing, but a show is hard.

How many Loki variants did you have on the writers room whiteboard at various points? Hundreds. So many different Lokis. There was one Loki, actually maybe it was a version of Mobius that took off his glasses, and he just had really tiny eagle eyes, like he could see everything. There was stuff like that all over the white board. Tom Kauffman, who wrote that fifth episode, he’s an amazing comedy writer, and was on the first three seasons of Rick and Morty. His first draft of that episode was just bananas.

Was there a variant, or a crazy idea in general, that you really loved but couldn’t ultimately do? There was so much different stuff that we wanted to do in the Void. But the truth is, I don’t want to say any of it, because you never know. The ideas that I want to do the most may pop up elsewhere.

Okay, so let’s stick with a variant we did see. Was Alligator Loki actually a Loki, or just an alligator that happened to be wearing a Loki’s crown? A magician can’t reveal his tricks, man. That’s the great debate. Let it rage.

What was Alligator Loki‘s origin story on your side of things? Who pitched him and how was that initially received? That was maybe my very first meeting with the producers at Marvel, Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, talking about the show, and me saying, “When we’re doing this, you can encounter lots of different Lokis. You could have an alligator Loki. Why? Cause he’s green.” And us all laughing about how stupid that was. I think I made the point that it’s that energy of what we can do with the show. We can have something like that, but let’s play it straight. Alligator Loki, you get a laugh out of it, but by and large you try and play it straight. That was the fun tonal balance that we tried to strike in the show.

There’s been some conflicting information out there about whether the big bad was originally just going to be He Who Remains, who’s a different comics character altogether from Kang, and whether the casting of Jonathan Majors changed the plan. From your point of view, what happened? The character was always written as a version of Kang, as early as the first draft of the script, we knew in the writers room, relatively early on. He Who Remains, that’s the guy behind the curtain with the TVA, and we saw an opportunity to fuse that mythology with the Immortus mythology. And that was just really compelling. It was a way to elevate, it just felt right for Loki, because Loki was there in the first Avengers, he’s the one who brought the Avengers together, and here is directly related to the exploding of the multiverse, this event that will drive the events of Phase Four. Certainly, when Jonathan came in, it allowed us to step on the gas of just how eccentric and charismatic this character could be. I was inspired in the writing of He Who Remains by Tom Cruise’s character in Magnolia, trying to give it that Frank TJ Mackey energy a little bit. He captures that and then elevates it to something else that’s different and weird.

You just said how important the multiverse is going to be to Phase Four of the MCU. How challenging is it to have to set up this big thing for the larger Marvel endeavor while also serving the needs of the particular story you’re telling on this show? It’s a challenge in the sense that it’s all a relay race, and you’ve got the baton on this thing, and you want to do a great job. The name of the game over at Marvel is with each movie or TV show, make it the best it can possibly be. And they’re really supportive of that, and trust that it will organically fit into the larger blueprint of everything. We were excited about introducing a version of Kang, because yeah, to introduce this new big bad was cool for our show. I was aware, and cautious, of the thing I read in your review, that it might not be the most sound storytelling to introduce a new character at the very end that we’ve never seen before as the big bad of this thing. Obviously, we had the benefit that people know who Kang is, and there’s a meta thing where a portion of the audience knows Jonathan Majors is going to be playing Kang in Phase Four. But the finale was only ever going to work if He Who Remains, in a compelling way, serviced the Loki and Sylvie emotional story. That was the most important job that that character did in the finale: he laid out a very compelling conflict that ultimately drove the two of them apart.

There has also been some confusion as to exactly when you knew that there would be a second season, as opposed to you just making a limited series. Initially, in the writers room, we were not operating as though there would be a second season. And the whole way through was, this should be a story that should stand on its own. I referenced The Leftovers and Mad Men all the time. I think about those seasons, they pushed the overall stories forward, but you can pull any one of those seasons and look at it on its own as an individual story. I wanted that to be the case here, whether we did a second season or not. I think we always felt that we would want to propel Loki forward into the MCU after the conclusion of our season. The only question was, would that be in an appearance in a movie, or would that be in a second season. And it was only over the course of development that the stars aligned to make a second season.

But that end scene, where Mobius no longer recognizes Loki and the TVA is filled with Kang statues, wouldn’t have been a satisfying conclusion to a limited series. That is an ending that only works if there’s going to be a second season. So there is another conclusion to the story that I wrote that exists out there, that I guess is just for me. My own little play, that I perform with my action figures.

What was Sylvie’s original plan, before Loki hijacked her to that dying moon? It was to empty out the TVA. The entire bombing of the Sacred Timeline was to create a diversion. She’s not going to be able to create a multiverse from doing that. Ultimately, the TVA has the manpower to get out and take care of these events, but they’re going to have to scramble a lot of their minutemen teams, and it leaves the Time-Keepers significantly less guarded than they would have been otherwise. That was her plan.

You didn’t come into this as a big comic book nerd. So was there someone on staff who could tell you, “Well, there’s this giant cloud called Alioth that eats time,” or, “Well, one time Thanos had a helicopter,” or maybe someone assigned to you by Marvel? I’m constantly reading the comics but trying to not be so beholden to the and do our own thing. I charged our writers assistant, Ryan Kohler, with, “You’ve got to become the authority on all things TVA, all things Kang, and all that.” So he and my assistant, Sophie Miller, became a support staff who read a ton of these comics and became a wealth of knowledge for the writers to turn to. And then the Marvel producers, obviously are very well versed in the comics. It was Kevin Wright who came in one day and was like somebody throwing down a blueprint in an asteroid movie, going, “Alioth! Look at this!” And we were like, “Ohmigod, this is perfect!” The best thing about working on these comic book shows is that if it’s from the comics, it doesn’t matter how much of a deus ex machina it is, it’s just cool, like, “I can’t believe you pulled that from the comics.” Alioth, that was a big breakthrough that unlocked the last two episodes for us.

That is not a famous comic book that introduces Alioth. It’s an obscure Nineties miniseries, with really ugly art. But you look at it and see what it could be. You say, “If we do this, and it feels like Twister, it’s going to be really cool.”

Was Mobius’ love of jet skis there simply to illustrate his character, or did you have a grander idea in mind? I will come clean: I’m a jet ski guy. I’ve spent a good amount of time on jet skis in my day. I used to tow a jet ski to a lake and ride it in college. So it probably was me. Loki, I was just becoming a steward of that character. Mobius was a character I really felt I got to create from nothing. There’s not really anything to that character in the comics. So bits and pieces of me found their way in. I just think there’s something so poignant — here Mobius is, a guy who is literally fighting to preserve all of time in the multiverse, and yet his interests are maybe the most humble, human, terrestrial, unremarkable thing you can think of. Just a jet ski. And when you’ve got Owen Wilson playing him and it’s just that much better.

Will you be back in some capacity for Season Two? [long pause] Time will tell.

‘Loki’ Head Writer Michael Waldron — and ‘Rick and Morty’ Alum — on MCU, ‘Heels’ and More

[incoherentbabblings]

I saw some of the wips of your Robin! Steph and Civie! Tim, and I thank you for giving the exact ‘what if’ fic in my head that I have been looking since I ventured in this fantastic paring. I absolutely in love with your fics, and this is just the part of the cherry on top. I love you and ur fics so muchkoisjioshios ❤️💜

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Thank you so much! I'm so pleased that you have read through all those wips! I just finished drafting Chapter 12 (of 19 or so) last night and it racked up to 8,000 words so hearing that someone is looking forward to it is wonderful. I really hope you enjoy it. If I keep up my current pace with the remaining chapters, it should be ready to go come the end of August. I just have to be sure with this one that it's all cohesive and good to go. But thank you so much for this, I'm so over the moon! So... another snippet for you? This is from Chapter Eight, where Steph has well and truly indoctrinated Tim :D

Watching Tim work, Stephanie very quickly gathered that he was not lying when he’d declared his experience in building computers. Hours had passed, and the sun had long set. Tim had brought a sandwich, then rather obsessively cleaned his hands. Has to be pristine, he’d said. Stephanie remained longer than she should have done. It was interesting to see.

“I can do it in my sleep at this point. I built my dad’s,” he explained, handling items with far more gentleness than Stephanie thought possible, but with a confidence that was endearing. 

He had lovely hands. 

“And before that,” he continued, lips screwing up as he realized he needed to change screwdriver heads, “Hudson’s, and then an old beat up one that I - maybe - stole parts from the recycling center for.”

“For shame, Timothy.”

He giggled, working away quietly. Taking a chance, Stephanie brought up some music on her phone to play quietly, and his face lit up.

“Enya?”

“I like her in the background when I’m studying.”

“She’s good for getting rid of my headaches,” Tim concluded. “When I would get them as a kid - I used to get really horrible ones, screaming kind of pain - Dad would swear she was better than Tylenol. Take me to his office, sit down with me on the sofa, and just hold me as we listened on his big music system. Worked miracles.”

Stephanie smiled fondly, trying to imagine Tim as a young boy. Gawkish, maybe. Fey, possibly. Sweet, enthusiastic, curious. 

“You’re close with them, aren’t you?”

Tim looked embarrassed to admit it, shaking his head and looking bashful. “I wasn’t always. They used to travel a lot more for work. Everywhere and anywhere. They’d go on digs a lot too, leave me behind. Nanny after nanny at first. Then, when I was old enough, boarding school after boarding school. Then they were attacked. It’s terrible, but there’s nothing like almost dying to make you examine your lot in life.”

“That’s true…” She curled up on the bed, holding her knees. “I’ve never asked you about it.”

Tim was quiet, pretending to listen to the music. When he spoke, it was without sarcasm, without humor, without the gentleness she had come to associate with Tim. 

“I was told on the phone what had happened. Went to the hospital, watching them in two seperate rooms. Mom was weaker. She’d had a higher dosage. The nurses spoke to me like they were already dead.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

He looked back at her, a bottle of cooling liquid in his hand. He looked hollowed out, tired.

“No-one understands. They think because they got better, the horror goes away. My mom can’t stand people touching her anymore, apart from me really. Too many people poking and prodding and intubation and needles and a biopsy… She won’t even let someone cut her hair anymore. Dad just wanted to forget it. Move on and never talk about it. Start fresh. New wife, new house…”

“What about you?”

His shoulders sagged. “Frightened for them. Still. If mom gets breathless, if Dad’s spine starts to hurt again. Grateful, that they recovered. But then. I feel guilty… So much guilt.”

“Because you weren’t with them?”

He nodded, then turned back around to work. “I think about it a lot; what would have happened if one or both of them had died. What would have happened to me? But then I feel selfish.”

His voice broke, and Stephanie reached out from her place of kneeling on her bed, and touched his back. She felt the shiver run up it, the muscles tighten.

“You stayed with Bruce for a while, right?”

“Yeah. Such a weirdo,” he scoffed. “He’s a good man. But…”

“Weird,” Stephanie concluded. 

Tim worked a bit harder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “all I do is tell you sob stories.”

[transmissionsfromthebattlefield]

Fun-MUN

Last weekend was my second excursion to Fugaziland, otherwise known as Washington, D.C. Instead of engaging in punk rock rambunctiousness like last time, I had a much more formal mission: my first Model UN conference, the North American Invitational Model United Nations. I had always been interested in Model UN, but I never embarked on it until the beginning of the current school year. I’m very glad I did. Never would I have thought I would have an experience like I did at this past conference before I started college.

I wasn’t used to being around people my age who weren’t the same people I saw every day at school, and it was a little strange how everyone looked so familiar yet so unfamiliar. But I got used to my surroundings quickly. I joined the crowd of gussied up teenagers checking their notes and crossing their fingers, and I fit right in. Transplanted from my usual surroundings into a swanky Hilton hotel, I found myself representing Hong Kong in the C40 Cities Climate Leadership Group, working with other high schoolers to tackle the problem of urban greenhouse gas emissions. It was a lot less nerve-racking than it sounds, especially considering that the real world implications of those decisions weren’t actually weighing on us. It was a fascinating and enriching time hearing the stances of everyone else’s assigned city, which resulted in some heated debate despite the general consensus that climate change equals bad, and working out alliances and plans. Many sixty-second speeches were given and many notes were passed.

Our committee meetings were spread across four days with plenty of time to explore the hotel and the surrounding city (within the radius designated by our advisors) in between. On Friday my school’s delegation took the metro to see the Capitol building (from a distance) and the Washington Monument (which I got to lean against). It was slightly surreal being where a homegrown coup against democracy had been attempted, even if it was from afar. When you spend so much of your life picking up on worldly events from afar it’s interesting to find yourself at Ground Zero, even after everything seems to have settled. I felt similarly watching the news about Russian escalation in Ukraine on the flatscreen in my hotel floor’s lobby while waiting for the extremely congested elevators. So many monumental changes happening while everything else in life seems to remain just as it was…I read a good post on here about this phenomenon the other day—diary entries from the past casually mentioning the beginnings of large-scale wars and man’s landing on the moon beside daily routines and boy gossip. There’s more than two sides to every story, I guess.

At least, the metro looked gorgeous.

But at the conference I didn’t feel like I was just sitting idly by while everything happened around me all at once. I had a role to fulfill and duties to undertake, and I engaged in them successfully. On top of that, socializing was easy considering that almost everyone else was a stranger. I met people from New Jersey, California, Mexico, and Puerto Rico to name a few, and everyone was friendly and open. No matter where we came from or what our committees were, we were all united by the same purpose: to solve some problems and flex some mental muscles. That uniting factor really opened up my horizons much more than being trapped in a high school I never made where everyone else has been BFFs since their elementary years. And in the end, through these alliances and plenty of teamwork, it did really feel as if we had gotten something done when our draft resolutions passed. We had shown our ability to take responsibility and work together. It was a truly liberating experience in every sense, and I almost wished it didn’t have to end.

The day after I got home, it was abnormally nice out, nice enough to take a walk through the neighborhood in a three-quarter sleeve cardigan and my favorite leather-y jeans. If only the weather had been so agreeable down in D.C. It was brisk the entire time we were there, and the winds almost bowled me over as I stalked the street down from the hotel for Thai food that Saturday. I didn’t actually think my group would be leaving the hotel throughout the weekend, so I didn’t pack a coat or gloves. I made do by layering the three blazers I’d brought along. I think it’s going to be a hip winter fashion trend next year for those who follow the philosophy that “beauty is pain.”

The attire of champions.

But upon returning home, I got to crack open my bedroom window (in February!) and let the fresh air float in without freezing to death. There’s something about the spring air that stirs something inside of me, that end of seasonal dormancy. It makes me feel as if things are happening as opposed to having to wait for the world to unthaw. I know things are happening for me, no matter how frustrating life may be at times. In the next few months, my concept of normalcy will be changing, and it will resemble the freedom I experienced last weekend more than what I’m going through now. I couldn’t be more jittery—in the best way possible, that is.

[avasghost]

WIP Intro: When We Drown

did anyone see this coming? i didn’t. but hey hi hello i’m working on another book! aahahahaha not again

this is a side project, and i’ve written the first three chapters and love what i have so far. this is the first time i’ve started a side project and been almost 100% sure that i’ll continue writing it.

i’ve been brainstorming this for a while, and then i came up with an opening and decided to jump right in with very little planning. the story is unfolding very naturally.

crane anatomy is still my main WIP, so don’t expect writing updates for this very often, but hopefully i’ll be able to give it a bit more attention when crane anatomy is done (which will be in the very distant future).

genre: literary fiction

setting: british columbia probably, weird small fictional town right by the ocean and lots of forests <3 not sure about the time period yet

POV & tense: first person retrospective referral (with the protagonist’s lost brother referred to as ‘you’)

stage: brainstorming + drafting

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3GWIXZ7WW3CV7zkqNchaeL

logline: After the disappearance of her brother, April Foster is forced to grow accustomed to life without him. As years pass and her life darkens, she remains the only one who doesn’t believe he’s dead. She begins to see her brother again: his ghost, drifting over the water, but she can never quite reach him. Her hallucinations (or not hallucinations) cause even her closest friends to question her sanity, her loyalty, and her ability to cope with the dark world she lives in.

inspiration: this book has so!! many!! inspirations!! but the main thing that inspired me to start writing was an opening idea. the idea i had was that there was a woman with her four year old son on top of a lighthouse on new years eve, and they’re on the run from someone for some reason. they hide in the lantern room, then the woman gives birth to the protagonist in the lighthouse, and the new years day fireworks start going off. when i came up with this scene i was like “well, i’ll never be more inspired to start this book than i am now” so i started it and i’m happy i did! the other thing that inspired me to keep writing was the ending: the story follows the protagonist from birth into old age, and she keeps seeing her brother’s ghost, but can’t reach it. the last scene is her when she’s very old, and she sees his ghost, and follows it into the ocean. this is my favourite ending i’ve ever come up with, and i decided that i couldn’t let that go to waste. Note: this is the THIRD TIME i’ve killed the protagonist of my own book send help.

aesthetic: pine trees, mountains in the distance, bleak winter days, dewy forests, moths, secluded cabins, the ocean in a thick fog, rain clattering against the window, ghosts, old deteriorating buildings, a skeleton in the woods, thawing lakes, waves lapping against stone, moonlight sifting through the canopy, wolves howling far away

characters

april

the protagonist

face claim: abigail harrington

a genuinely good person (shock)

Sad

INFP/ISFP?

really nice but also moody

likes the moon

small and scrawny

Traumatized

doesn’t like people

people don’t like her and she’s fine with that (or pretends to be)

hides her feelings, pretends to be happy

magnolia

dies (spoiler alert)

face claim: barbara palvin

fun, loud, funny best friend trope

one of the only happy characters

soft

ESFP

bold, loves breaking the rules

wasn’t invited but shows up anyway

does not care

agree and you will be best friends forever. disagree and she will stab you

easily offended, holds grudges

elena

INFJ

face claim: rachel trachtenburg

also Sad

a bit cold but means well

wears a lot of jean jackets

very reasonable

cautious, probably the reason magnolia is still alive

keiran

ENFP

hair always a mess

fashion icon

terrible at sports of any kind

good at comebacks and thinking fast

artist and musician

quiet

deirdre

introduced quite late in the book, probably about halfway through

helps april out a bit (everyone say thank you deirdre)

face claim: adut aketch

ENFJ

lots of jewelry always

Aesthetic

lives alone in a log cabin far from society <3

always has the coolest earrings

don’t cross her

elias

april’s brother

face claim: timothee chalamet

sadly goes missing in chapter 3

was never found

four years older than april

referred to as “you” in the narrative

ESTJ

helped april out a lot before he disappeared, was her only friend

april keeps thinking she sees his ghost

helena

april’s mother

distant, doesn’t talk much

lonely, very depressed

also traumatized

tragic backstory

cries a lot

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed!) : @shaelinwrites​​​, @august-iswriting​​​

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin- King of my Heart

Happy blog birthday @cheri-translates! Here’s your present!! Hope you enjoy. 💙 🎉

You honestly don’t know why you were so terrified of chess.

Was it because it was the fear of losing? Or the fear of being humiliated? You would question yourself every time a chessboard appeared in your foresight.

Still, you took out the chessboard that had been casted away in the sad corner of your storage closet and wipe the box clean, sneezing from the minuscule dust particles escaping in the process.

“There are two opposing sides- black and white. White always makes the first move. How you win the game is by checkmating the opponent’s King.”

You lay the board flat on the coffee table in the living room then pour the pieces out, catching them before they roll off the edge. You make sure that everything was in the right order according to the guidebook as you check back and forth for each piece, hazily reciting the rules to yourself as you go. You adjust them carefully so that the pieces were all were staying perfectly aligned in their corresponding squares- white emulating black.

You knew Gavin had spare time during the weekends and so you used this opportunity to offer a game of chess. Surprisingly, he had never touched a chessboard in his life, but you guess it didn’t really matter since Gavin was used to thinking critically and strategically similar to his interactive simulation missions at STF. And of course, Gavin being the amazing man you love, is a quick learner and you have no doubt that he will perform well for a beginner.

“It’s not all about winning or losing, so don’t be so conflicted with the end result. You’re always a winner to me.”

Cookies that you baked beforehand- check. You had made sure not to make it overly sweet with the chocolate and sugar. Your pu’er tea accompanied by a matching Jupiter teapot and Moon teacups- check. You had bought them last week with Gavin and this would be the first time he’ll see it being used. Chessboard, good natural lighting from outside, comfy cushions to contribute to the cosiness and grounding sensation from sitting on the floor- all check. Yourself- check. Gavin... not check- yet.

You glance at the clock, noticing that it had just turned 1:59pm. Gavin should be here in exactly a minute.

You do a final sweep of the room, sighing from the satisfaction of the view being easy on the eyes for once. You know Gavin wouldn't mind the mess, but since you had the time to prepare and clean up beforehand, of course you took up the opportunity to do so and save you from the embarrassment afterwards.

The sound of the doorbell finally rings from outside, echoing through the walls of your home and heart. You feel your adrenaline pick up and dash towards the door to open for the person waiting behind, ready to let him in. Without having to say anything beforehand, you pulled him straight into a tight hug, with your head buried between his neck and shoulder.

Gavin- check, you remind yourself and smile. Nothing is missing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, hugging you right back. He then laughs, his voice sounding through the halls of the apartment complex. “I’m not even halfway through the door.”

You hug him tighter. You feel Gavin secretly smiling as he follows suit.

Being the first to let go, you finally lead him to the assortments of your hard work after he shuts the door behind him.

Gavin obediently sits down across from you on the carpet at white’s side of the board as you hand him the biggest cookie from the cookie platter. You watch him consume everything without hesitation, smiling at the remaining crumbs.

“Chocolate chip cookie made especially for you. Not too sweet this time, I promise. Should I have added chilli to this? Apparently the combination exists.”

“If that’s something you want to try making, sure.” He simultaneously chews while he smiles, his eyes fixating on you after you sit directly across from him.

You then pour the tea equally into the Moon cups and place one in front of him, making sure he could clearly recognise the cups- though not like he could ever forget.

“What do you think?” you exclaim.

He replies immediately with a cough. “It’s cute.”

You help yourself to your own cookie, letting the chocolate bits melt on your tongue. You smile too at tasting something edible that is of your own making, finally something that you and Gavin could eat safely without risking to add it to the long list of one of the “dark cuisine” foods.

“So about today, you said you wanted to teach me Chess?” he asks. You nod vigorously, a spark of happiness coming from within that you are the one now teaching Gavin instead of how it normally was the other way around.

“This piece is the King. It can only move one space at a time.” You point to the tallest piece that holds a cross at the top.

You then point to the piece fixated next to it, the one with the crown. “Next to it is the Queen. She can move anywhere she wants, however many squares she likes. She’s the most powerful piece in the game.”

You then point to the row above the King and Queen. “This row is full of pawns. They can move up two spaces in their first move. After that, they can only move one space up at a time.”

“When you’re older, you’ll find someone else to play chess with... and someone who will be by your side.”

That memory abruptly resurfaces from the depths of your subconscious, like each Chess piece of a chessboard gradually coming together with each piece of explanation you gave to Gavin. The black and white pieces- the good and bad memories, especially the ones with your father. You pause for a bit, before continuing on- before Gavin could notice the split second of hesitation.

“Rooks move horizontally and vertically, and Bishops can only go diagonally. Knights move two squares and one across on either side, like an “L” shape, and is the only piece that can jump over other pieces on the board,” you say, pointing to each corresponding piece. Gavin’s eyes follow your every move, nodding with his eyebrows slightly furrowing. You can’t help but let out a little smile from being able to capture a glimpse of this rarer side of Gavin- Commander Gavin.

“You have a choice to capture the opponent’s pieces if the opportunity ever comes up. The point of the game is to “checkmate” the other person’s King. This means that it is being targeted and has no other places to go. Before that, when the King is in danger but not checkmate, this means the King is in “check��� and is forced to move. That’s it! As long as you remember these few rules, you’ll be okay.”

Gavin nods. “Got it," he responds, sternly. He most certainly is starting to look like a Chess grandmaster to you at the moment. You know he has to deduct investigations and complete various missions and STF tasks daily while you struggle to write the first draft for a show proposal. You feel he's way too intelligent, sometimes.

“Since you’re a beginner,” you start, “you can play as white first. White always makes the first move. We can start now if you don’t have any questions.”

Gavin pauses and observes each piece before him. Then, he reaches out for a pawn on the right side of his board and moves it forward two spaces. You move up the pawn in front of your King in response. Both of you slowly exchange moves, and more pieces congregate up in the middle of the chessboard.

“Who taught you how to play Chess?” Gavin finally asks.

“My father. Whenever he had time off set. He taught me a lot, including important life lessons relating to Chess as well. Though, I can't remember much.”

“Oh.” Gavin looks up from his chessboard, his eyes filling with concern. You look back with indifference, but smile, using this opportunity to stare right back. In this moment, you gradually take in the way his hair perfectly falls into place, with the sunlight highlighting the contours of his face and bringing out the shine in his amber eyes.

Your thoughts drift back to that autumn day, vividly reminiscing the ginkgo leaves dancing with the wind, pleasantly surprising you enough to stop your piano playing.

You blink out of that memory, and move your Queen towards Gavin’s King, cornering it with the support of a Rook.

“Checkmate.” You smile, a giggly feeling overcomes you from finally being able to beat Gavin at something, especially with a game that values a lot of strategy and analysing.

“Hm. Very good,” Gavin says, observing where I had cornered him, no doubt archiving this moment to use against me in future matches. Even though he lost, the corners of his mouth perks up at the sight of my joy.

“Let’s have a rematch! One more," you exclaim. Hopefully you could keep this enthusiasm up and form a winning streak.

Gavin helps reset the board without the help of the guidebook. This time, you play white and Gavin plays black. You both follow the same rhythm of how you two were the first time, however you notice Gavin’s movements were faster and more sure, strategically succeeding in capturing a lot of your pieces- pawns and all, though luckily not the Queen yet. The amount of growth he was displaying compared to earlier really shouldn’t surprise you, but it did anyway.

In the middle of the game, you make a bold risk, moving up the black Queen to the adjacent square to his King, certain that you have won this time again. “Checkmate!”

“But… you don’t have a supporting piece for it,” Gavin states, watching your face slowly flush in embarrassment. You observe his slim fingers move the King towards where your Queen was, and captures it. You grab your cup and take a sip of your tea in response, hopefully covering up your disappointment behind your hand. You kick yourself for having completely forgotten about that.

From then onwards, Gavin swiftly checkmates your King with the two Rooks lined up on the board, making it impossible for it to escape. You sigh. You tried your best, at least.

You try to disguise your disappointment in the wake of your defeat again with a smile and grab another cookie to chew on while Gavin studies the board. However, despite the result on your end, you were still admittedly proud of Gavin and allow yourself to feel grateful for being the only one to see this side of him to you.

“You lost a lot of pieces trying to attack. Especially with your Queen- you weren’t hesitant to sacrifice. Your pawn structure was weak and you moved without purpose.”

You stop munching the cookie. “You got all of that from those two games?”

Gavin nods slowly. He nonchalantly takes a sip of his third-time freshly poured tea, its steam floating towards the ceiling. “In STF simulations, you need to take note of every variable. Evol abilities, weather, weapons, and your fellow comrades- especially time. The criminal won’t hand you that much luxury. Every wrong decision would cost you. You need a plan for attack and defence, always. Always have a Plan B. If not, a Plan C. And if none of them will do, always have a Plan Z. Sometimes I’ll need to command nine groups at once. Other times it’ll just be me.”

You look at him blankly, your eyes widening as the only sign of response to his words. His eyes widen as well, not expecting that you would take it that way.

“I mean…” Gavin coughs before continuing, “it always works out. Please don’t worry. We’re highly trained for these operations, remember? I’ll always come back to you. I promise.” His hands reach out to hold yours at the table, meeting each other’s half-way.

"When I got used to holding your hand, buying different flowers for you each occasion, having reserved dinners and looking at the stars with you at night, I knew I couldn't continue the way like how I was before... before I met you again. Like being trapped in a building or apprehending someone and missing out of something that we planned in advance, I- I can't have that. Which is why I'd need to think of alternative operation routes, ones that require less sacrifice however still bear the same effectiveness as before. This is why I am the way I am now."

Who knew back then that this man would be your first love- a man so honest and sincere. Back when you would take a moment to smile at him in the hallways, receive help for retrieving the textbooks on the 2-metre shelves or just those few times when passing by the senior classrooms on your way to the music practice room and see him sleeping or staring outside the window where he sat.

“And you’ll find him. That person who will be with you through all life’s joy and heartbreak. Someone who will never leave you. Your King.”

You recall your father’s words as you squeeze Gavin’s hand a little more tighter. He squeezes right back three times.

You notice Gavin’s eyes awaken with a certain emotion that only you will notice- that something only you will ever know- directed at only you.

You squeeze his hand a little more tighter. He squeezes right back three times.

“Whether life is a game of Chess or not, you’re the only one who can dominate my territory, my pieces and my King. And when it comes to you, I’ve already won... my Queen.”

Closing his eyes, he brings forth your hand to his lips and lightly kisses it, already forever fulfilling his declaration of love.

I haven't posted any fan fiction before, let alone officially write one. This also accounts my first time having written this particular second person perspective, (apart from the Blue Temperature Gavin Empty Arena story) as this isn’t how I usually write. Normally I use first person and more indirect dialogue more than direct dialogue in my creative writing but this was really fun to try! Honestly, I couldn’t help myself but to bring forth some foreshadowing/parallels with the actual main storyline because admittedly, my writing takes need a lot of thought to understand the techniques I use and why my writing is the way it is. So, I won't be completely sure on if this will be received or not HAHA. But apart from everything else, this piece of work was made for this very special case for this very special day for a very special person so I won’t be posting much fan fiction as much as my other current work as I still prioritise my analyses and miscellaneous posts more but if you happen to want to see more, please let me know :) Thanks for reading and let’s all show Cheri much love for her accomplishments and milestone, today!

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

_

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

_

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

[malucy31]

Time is On Our Side

Pairing - Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Raiting - Teen and Up

Tags - Time Travel AU, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Reunion, Married Malec, Alec Misses Magnus, Happy Ending, Malec Love Each Other A Lot

6599 words - COMPLETED

Summary - Alec is stuck on a mission in India in the 18th century and he misses Magnus. One day, he wakes up somewhere that feels and smells like home.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Home, at last

There is a whole ritual every time Alec comes back from time traveling. Magnus is always there at the Institute, wearing a mix of worry and eagerness on his features.

The anchoring spell is performed quickly, just a way to make sure that no traveler’s history gets lost when the timelines merge a couple of hours from now. But Alec stays out, always. He refuses to be anchored to anyone but Magnus. They do it in the quiet and intimacy of their loft.

They don’t talk much. Even when they are in their kitchen, Magnus watches in silence as Alec eats like he hasn’t in days, which in this case is accurate. In the two days between meeting Magnus and the new moon, Alec has been so scared of having divulged too much that he hasn’t come out of his room, using nourishment runes, one after the other.

As usual, Magnus doesn’t eat a thing. It has only been a few minutes for him anyway; they had dinner before Alec left. The dinner before a time travel is always a heavy moment. It’s weird for them both. Not sharing time, knowing the next minutes of Magnus’s life could feel like weeks, a month…a decade to Alec.

A decade never happened, but the fear is always there. So, to remind each other that no matter what, Alec will always come back, they keep a third plate for Alec’s return, leaving everything on the table as it was. Alec will always come home, and their home will always be ready to welcome him back.

They don’t really have a lot of time after that. They need to prepare the protecting circle for the anchoring spell, but Alec can see that worry hasn’t left Magnus’s face. As Magnus is tracing the circle on the ground, Alec puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, calling his name as softly as he can.

They still don’t exchange a word. Alec can’t, knowing that if he starts, he could talk for days, shower Magnus with every promise of eternal love flaring up in his lungs with each intake of breath, with every moment of longing that peppered his last month and a half.

But it will have to wait. In the meantime, fear and worry start evaporating with a soft kiss, then a second one which turns into a hungrier one. That’s all it takes. The reminder that they share time again, they never stopped sharing it in some way.

Clothes are being discarded. They don’t have to feel each other’s skin for the spell, but their hearts do.

Alec finds the ingredients Magnus needs without having to ask. His hands are full of jars, and there is an apple tree twig between his teeth. He feels Magnus’s stare on him when he re-enters the living room where a circle of candles has been set up around a mattress.

What? he asks wordlessly with raised eyebrows.

Magnus sniggers, his voice finally filling the silence. “This never gets old.” He unburdens Alec’s arms by taking the jars one by one and setting them on the nearest table. “You, finding your way through my apothecary…” Alec doesn’t move, chuckling when Magnus finally takes the twig from his mouth and kisses his lips. “On your own…” Fingers trail up along his sides, and he can’t hold back a giggle, “in your underwear.”

“Feels good to be home,” Alec whispers into their kiss.

“It does.”

*

Once the spell starts, everything goes quickly. Time adjusting itself around them is intoxicating. It feels like those life showers Magnus likes to take with him sometimes. Running from portal to portal, hand in hand, hopping from a green and sunny hill to a rainy seashore, from hard concrete ground to silky sheets. Remaining there for a few breathless kisses before disappearing into the mattress with laughter when they hear a door opening. Landing on a trampoline, then more streets, more mountains, more kisses and the sweetest of all exhaustions. Watching the first minutes of a play before falling back, trapped between something fluffy and the comforting weight of Magnus. More laughter, always more laughter…then running again. Running around the world and taking everything in as the Earth keeps on spinning.

*

A draft wakes them at the same time. Alec feels Magnus stir, his arm and head leaving his chest before returning there with a sigh.

Around the mattress and the protecting circle, it’s havoc. The windows to the balcony are wide open, curtains billowing out in the breeze, birds exploring the living room and eating crumbs the wind scattered from their forgotten dinner.

There are even a few plants here and there, growing from the ground. It happens sometimes. It’s Magnus’s magic going a little crazy when it comes to protecting what they have. They are used to it. The flowers that grow don’t even always exist outside their own little world.

Alec plants a kiss in Magnus’s hair, inhaling a scent he has been missing for the last month and a half. Already grinning with delight about what’s to come, Alec eventually speaks. “Go ahead, ask…”

It doesn’t take long for Magnus to react. It’s endearing. Magnus always waits for Alec to start this conversation, making it another ritual with its codes and rules.

“Which stranger were you this time?”

There’s joy in his voice, one that Alec usually doesn’t link with Magnus thinking about his past.

Alec doesn’t answer, already shifting to retrieve the small pouch of sandalwood blend, eager to see his husband’s face light up when he figures it out on his own. But he should know better.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Magnus asks, his body suddenly weighing more heavily above his to make his point clearer. Alec isn’t going anywhere. It makes him laugh softly.

“I have a clue, but it’s in my jacket.”

“Which one?”

“The one I had yesterday? The one you took off with so little regard…”

“Well, there were other important things that demanded my attention,” he punctuates with a kiss, not letting his lips leave Alec’s, “and it’s a black leather jacket. You have thousands of them.”

He could tease him back, maybe tickle him, hear him giggle, feel the laughter and joy spread through his body. With Magnus so close, he would feel everything. But he is overwhelmed.

“I missed you so much, Magnus.”

“I know, darling. But I’m here now, we both are…and I’ve missed you just as much. Whoever you were this time, you can be sure that even though I barely knew you, I missed you the second you were gone. That I missed us without really knowing what us meant.”

Neither of them moves, not even for a kiss. Magnus swallows thicky, and Alec is struck by the emotions on his face. Years of being together and Magnus still feels self-conscious when he confesses things like that. But it never stops him, and even after all these years, Alec still feels like the luckiest man alive.

Magnus continues, his collected tone and loving smile trying to bring Alec back to him. “Do you see it?”

“Huh?”

“Your jacket, Alexander, can you tell me where it is so I can summon it?”

“Sure, it’s…” Alec cranes his neck. Their place is a mess, but he spots his jacket on the floor, somewhere between what seems to be an orchid and a cat napping in a morning sunbeam. “There.”

They laugh as Magnus follows Alec’s pointed finger, apparently realizing for the first time the state of their living room.

He snaps his fingers, and the jacket is there. In one of its pockets, Alec finds the small pouch. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Magnus to recognize it.

“It’s one of mine! Where did you get this?”

“You gave it to me.”

“I gave it to you? You must have made a big impression on me.”

“I think I did,” Alec smirks, still a little worried that he told too much to that past version of Magnus. “Especially when I told you about my husband.”

He sees Magnus’s eyes widen, just like they did all those centuries ago.

“The married traveler, of course… Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? For a long time, I was obsessed with that place in the world where it seemed possible for people like us to exist.” His voice breaks a little on those words.

Alec can’t resist the urge to hug him, take him in his arms and secure his head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry. It broke my heart to leave you this way.”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. I kept a very fond memory of that encounter. And who knows, maybe you’ll have to go back, and we’ll realize we met again in the morning.”

“Maybe we never really stopped meeting.”

“What a lovely thought…”

They bask in the silence for a little while, Magnus’s body relaxing against Alec’s.

“Can you remind me what happened? What we said?”

It’s still so fresh in Alec’s mind that he tells him every detail.

The anchoring spell protects those moments, frozen in time. They have so many memories like this one now, not really knowing if it really happened, if this is part of their story or some sort of alternate reality. It doesn’t matter. They are still here, together in the end, with dozens of memories of a life that maybe was. None of them affecting their life, only adding to it.

Somewhere during the story, Magnus rolled on his side to face Alec.

“When did we see each other after that?” Magnus asks.

It gets complicated to answer that question, Alec doesn’t time travel every day, but he has done it a few times already. It’s not always easy to keep track.

“The pirate ship!” They exclaim at the same time, laughing at the memory.

Alec reaches out, grazing Magnus’s cheekbone, outlining his jaw and diving into his eyes. They sparkle with joy, gold shining proudly in the morning light.

“It feels good,” Alec eventually utters. “Seeing you talking about your past with such lightness, laughing.”

Magnus whispers his answer into the crook of Alec’s neck. “It’s easier now that I know you could be anywhere in it.”

The words turn into soft kisses, each of them reminding Alec why those time travels are always worth it, no matter how long they can feel. Each of them is a chance to give Magnus back what life took from him. Hope, happiness, laughter, cheerfulness…

“You really are a man of your word, aren’t you?” Magnus continues.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re taking our wedding vows further than I would ever dare ask you to, Alexander… As if your love in our present wasn’t enough, you give it to past versions of myself too, do you realize how extraordinary this is? How extraordinary you are?”

“‘m not. Loving you is easy.”

“Stop selling yourself short, my heart, and accept to be worshipped like you deserve to be.”

“Only if you accept it too.” Alec tastes the giggle on Magnus’s lips, letting it infuse in him. He doesn’t need to see him to notice the sudden stiffness in Magnus. “What is it?” he asks, his fingers rubbing soothing circles at the back of Magnus’s hair.

His answer comes in a murmur. “I know it’s selfish, but I’ll never have enough of your lifetime. Whether it’s to repay you or to love you. It will never be enough.” He sighs, his next words barely audible. But it doesn’t matter. Alec would hear those words even in a storm. “I need you for more than your lifetime.”

Magnus has never said it like this, never so directly. It makes Alec’s reply so much easier. “Then, maybe we should find a way to extend it?” Any tentativeness dies when Alec is met by two golden irises and a smile that has rarely been so big. “I never want to leave you alone. I mean, if you’re being selfish, I may just as well be too, right?”

“Yes, yes you may be, darling… You can be whatever you want.”

“I love you.” It’s impossible to stop beaming at Magnus in this moment, so he doesn’t. They will have forever, no matter how long it takes to find it. “Who you are, who you were, and who you will be. I’ll love every version of you as long as you’ll have me.”

“Oh Alexander… An eternity or two is a bare minimum.”

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟿)

Chapter 9: Then It Won’t 

A/N: Hi. I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I was feeling a little stuck and Honestly overall uninspired and unmotivated. I needed a break from writing, I also don’t know how long to have this story going, but if you have any feedback PLEASE let me know, it would be greatly appreciated:) As always my asks, requests, messages are open so please talk to me:) 

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. She and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch.6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 

I was so confused. I didn’t know what had gotten into JJ. Why did he kiss me like that? Out of nowhere. I know that we were both happy and excited. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, but it opens up too many doors. As much as I want to be with JJ, it puts a lot on the two of us. We both are dealing with a lot right now. What if that is why he kissed me? What if he was confusing one emotion for the other, and it wasn’t what he was wanting to do? My thoughts were everywhere as I stood still. JJ and I are still standing in front of the counter. JJ arms were wrapped around my shoulders, and mine around his waist. It was a hug that was full of emotion, what those emotions were, I am not sure, and I don’t think that he was either. 

After our breathing started to settle down, we didn’t talk much. More of a silent agreement between the two of us to go to bed. The air was thick, but not in the same way it had been. There was a tension between JJ and I. A tension that I didn’t want to be there, one that made me fall further into the already present feelings that were there. As I was changing in John B’s room, like every night, it was gloomy. The room held a weight that I still did not want to bear. Tonight though it was different, there was a glimmer of hope. I didn’t want to take over his room because he would be back. He would be back here as soon as JJ and I found a way to make it wherever that ship was going. 

JJ knocked on the door, pulling me from my thoughts as I finished pulling my shirt down over my body. “Yes?” 

JJ leaned in, then entered the room. There it was again, that sticky, emotional tension. JJ was only wearing a pair of worn, faded, khaki cargo shorts, hung loosely around his waist, his hair wet from the shower that he just took, and I couldn’t help but look at him. Once I realized what I was doing I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “Hey, would it be weird if I, uh, borrowed a pair of JB’s pajama bottoms?” He said looking down. “I just realized I am out of clean ones and I don’t think you wanna sleep next to me in these smelly old clothes.” He laughed off the last part. I could tell he was unsure of my sleeping plans for the night, but I was glad that he still was okay with sharing a bed. 

“You’re right. I didn’t want to say anything but you were starting to smell” I let out a laugh, and JJ followed laughing as well. The mood was better, almost normal again. “You know where it’s at,” I said nodding toward the dresser on the far wall, then walking out into the living room. I began removing the couch cushions to pull out the bed again for the night. 

3:15 am 

I read the clock on the microwave again. Less than an hour ago I was begging for sleep, but now my nerves were on edge and I was full of adrenaline. I laid down staring at the dark wooden ceiling, only light coming from the moon and the crack in the door from John B’s room where JJ was changing. I was so stuck in my thoughts that I barely noticed the bed dip as JJ laid down beside me, his hands laced together behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling, now only illuminated by the bright moon outside the open window. The wind caused a cool draft sending a shiver down my spine. 

“I’m sorry” JJ finally broke the silence. I knew it was coming, I mean we couldn’t just ignore it. JJ’s nerves were just as high as mine were at this moment. I sat up turning to face JJ slightly, running my hand through my hair. 

“Don’t be sorry” I said letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I felt JJ relax a little beside me. He closed his eyes and I heard him let out a deep breath. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. I wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“What?” JJ said. He sat up, turning to me. I could see the way his eyebrows were scrunched in confusion. 

“Why did you kiss me JJ?” I said in a long breath. I started talking, I didn’t know if I actually wanted the answer once I asked the question. “Because if it was just the adrenaline or the joy of our lead on John B, that’s totally fine. If it was just a way to distract us from the emotions we’re feeling then that's okay too because I know that we’ve been comforting each other like that because we don’t know what to say. I just want to --” 

“I did it because I like you Y/N, that’s it, that’s why” JJ cut me off. It felt like his words hung in the air. I didn’t know how to respond. “I mean I guess the adrenaline and everything helped me get the courage to do it. I mean look at what you did Y/N. You are like halfway to finding John B. You’re amazing.” I reached over and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“I like you too JJ,” I whispered into his shoulder before pulling away. The tension in the air is significantly less. Things were more clear, but still so much remained unsaid. JJ and I sat back, looking between each other, silence falling over us once again. Neither of us knows where to go from here. 

“What does this mean?” I said swallowing. “Does it change things?” Again, I didn’t want to know what the answer was. “I need you to get through this JJ. You saw how Kie and Pope reacted to what we’re doing here, looking for JB. You know what I’m going through better than anyone JJ.” I put my hand on his jaw looking him in the eyes. I could barely see the blue in them from the dimly lit atmosphere. I saw the way that the light hit his face illuminating the way his features softened into my touch. 

“Y/N, you’re smart and beautiful, and a literal genius. I don’t want this to change anything between us, but you know me. I speak my thoughts, and since you came back, and with John B being gone, I just, I guess I just started to see you as more than my best friend's sister.” I could see the thoughts turning in his head as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“And moving forward?” I asked. I felt the break in my voice. I’m sure JJ saw the tears that brimmed my eyes. 

“Nothing has to change.” He reached his hand up to cover mine that was still sitting on his cheek. “I don’t want it to change.” 

“Then it won’t” I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. “Let’s get some sleep yea?” 

“Yea,” JJ said, he looked away from me and I felt my heart drop. I felt like I handled this wrong. JJ was feet from me, and I could feel the nerves vibrating off of him. He laid back down, the same way as before.I moved, up next to JJ, resting my head and my hand on his chest. I felt his arm fall, wrapping it around my torso. I started to trace little patterns into the hollow of his chest and he moved his fingers up and down my spine. Comforting each other, just like normal, like we said nothing changed, right? 

I looked up at JJ, only to meet his eyes already on me. I smiled softly as he drew me in. I kept looking between his eyes and his lips, softly illuminated in the moonlight. He bit his lip softly, a small smile forming across his face. He leaned his head down, slightly shifting his body lower. His other hand came to rest on my chin as he turned to face me. I closed my eyes feeling his face get closer to mine. His thumb running across my bottom lip and his lips barley ghosting over mine. I moved forward pressing our lips together. It was different from the one before, it was more meaningful. With everything out in the open now, the kiss was more real. I could feel the emotion behind both our lips at that moment. Things got heated quickly. Moving to press against each other, quickening the pace of our kiss, passion growing. Then I pulled away looking at JJ resting our foreheads together. 

“We really should sleep,” I said with a slight giggle. JJ just nodded and wrapped his arms around me pulling me close. 

“I know we said nothing would change, but I could get used to kissing you like that,” JJ said, pulling my closer to him and resting his head on mine. 

-- 

I woke up to the sound of rain beating down on the tin roof that covered the porch, JJ and I separated in our sleep, his arm now barely laying over my hip. I was careful not to wake him up as I got out of bed. I stood up stretching out from the confinement of the pullout bed. I looked over at JJ, his mouth slightly open and laid out on his back. One arm behind his head, the other across his body where it had rested on my hip, holding onto me. I smiled to myself, letting my hand reach up and touch my lips softly, remembering what had happened last night. I took my time in the shower, for once letting the warm water relax me rather than letting the pouring water blend with my tears like it had been the past few showers. 

I got dressed, before leaving a note for JJ. I didn’t want to wake him, both of us were struggling to sleep soundly, and he seemed at peace. I didn’t want to disturb that. 

“Went to find some work. We need money to stay afloat J. See you later? - Y/N” 

So with that I headed out to my car, toward Figure 8. Granted that was the last place that I wanted to be, but I know that is where I could find good work. Every summer I worked as a waitress at the club. I was hoping that since I was under my mother’s last name on all their paperwork, they wouldn’t recognize me as JB’s sister. The other pogues were worried about the cops and their help in John B’s escape. I knew that if my last name was “Routledge” that my chances of even getting on the Island were slim. The club was full of kooks, and kooks didn’t care where I came from or went to after work. All they cared about was that I showed up on time and did my job. And I did. 

I parked my car at the edge of the lot, away from the Range Rovers and Jeeps that littered the lot. Everything was shiny in Figure 8, it was clean and sparkly, it lacked character, much like the people did. I had called Mr. Jones before I left for the Island, telling him, like every summer, that I would be returning to the island once the ferry recovered from the storms. So he should be expecting me. I looked at the large double stained glass door, pushing them open to a grand room. I was not expecting the strong scent of sandalwood to overwhelm me as it did. 

I looked around at all the adults here, dressed in slacks and polos. This was their casual wear, which I could not imagine how uncomfortable it must have been. I walked through a back hallway to avoid any looks with other kooks, or anyone who might notice me before I secured my job. I went through the routine of getting the job with Mr. Jones, signing paperwork saying that if I get hurt it isn’t their fault, then he handed me my uniform. “Sit here and wait for me to finish scanning this stuff in, then I’ve got a few more things for you to sign.” He pointed to a bench in the main hallway before disappearing behind another large door. I sat tapping my foot. I played with a white string that was coming loose from my shorts. “Head down, don’t make a big deal” Is what one of the older waitresses had told me when I started working at the country club. She was also from the cut, she told me that it was the best way to deal with the teenager kooks who would pick fights with us while working. 

“Y/N” I heard someone call. The tone in their voice was cold. I looked up only to be met with who I wanted to see the least. My blood boiled at the sight of him, how was he free walking around. “Y/N Routledge” He spit, his tone venomous and dark. I stood up taking steps back and away from him. 

“Rafe Cameron” I breathed out barely audible.

-- 

Masterlist 

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[avasghost]

When We Drown Update #1

wip intro here.

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work. please do not plagiarize in any way.

hello!! i’m back with the first when we drown update!

so. i’m around 8000 words into the draft. i started writing on february 15, and its currently march 20, so its already been over a month which is ... wild. time flies when ur having fun kids.

its flowed a lot smoother than crane anatomy so far. i’m really enjoying the process, since i’m not trying that hard to make it good?? i didn’t know i was capable of “not trying to make it good” but maybe i am 👀

the writing style is very different from crane anatomy. CA is very flowery, but the prose in WWD is a lot plainer. i really like both prose styles, which is why it’s nice to be able to alternate between them when i feel like writing in one and not the other.

i used to get these random line ideas when i was only writing crane anatomy, but they didn’t fit the prose of that book. i’ve realized that those lines fit perfectly into the style of this book so yay my children found a home <3

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 1: the lighthouse

the story opens on a lighthouse on new years eve, 1999. this was an image that popped in my head while i was brainstorming and i decided to jump in and start writing because i was Intrigued. it’s a snowy night, and a woman and her four-year-old son (elias) are on the run from other members of the cult she is part of. we see her finally picking up the courage to run away, because unfortunately in this cult leaving isn’t allowed and they want to kill her. this is why she’s so depressed all the time because :) cult trauma :) they escape from their pursuers by hiding in the lantern room of a lighthouse, and then the woman gives birth to a daughter, the protagonist. her brother, elias, is referred to as “you”, and even though she wasn’t born yet, april narrates this scene because she’s been told the story so many times that she thinks of it almost like a memory, sometimes she wonders if she actually does remember it slightly.

the first line:

The first time I met you was on the lighthouse. It was the midwinter of 1999, new years eve, five p.m., already dark. I wasn’t born yet.

i quite like this opening! every opening i’ve written for the last four books has been good so that’s good

anyway here’s some night ocean and moon imagery:

The black ocean dilated in a gauzy breeze far below, waves ruffling like crow’s feathers. The distant sloshing drowned out some of the noise of the men’s boots clattering on the stairs. A cloud slipped in front of the moon, puddling its glow.

then the woman and elias hide under some tarps in the lantern room and the men who are hunting them come and look for them and somehow don’t find them which is completely unrealistic but :) if they got found april would never be born so :) that wouldn’t work would it :)

and then the men leave and april is born in the lantern room which was the most aesthetic birth i could think of okay. i had to. also the new years fireworks start going off:

We slept in the lantern tower. The beam that guided sailors lanced over our heads, a pinprick you hardly noticed. The fireworks all burst at once – a blur of  orange, green and blue lights popcorning in the dark. I was tiny, too skinny, I shouldn’t have survived the night, but I did. Mother told me years later that I was the last baby of the 20th century, and that made me lucky.

the irony <3

chapter 2: lacuna

this is a chapter that takes place years later (and covers the first nine years of april’s life) and talks about her awful childhood. her older brother, elias, is her only friend other than two other girls (Elena and Magnolia). lets just say her life is terrible and i’m v happy i’m not her!

Mother always said I looked like her, and you looked like our father. I never thought so, even though I’d never seen pictures of him. Mother never showed us any. I couldn’t bring myself to associate you with him. From what I’d heard of father, you and him were opposites, different entities, born in different worlds and buried in different graveyards.

and their mother tells the story of april’s birth so often that april thinks of it as a memory, which is why she was able to narrate it:

She retold the story of my birth so frequently that every detail was visceral in my mind: the snow sparkling in juts of moonlight, a lonely rowboat almost invisible in the dark sea, the footsteps thudding along the passage, fireworks sparking in the sky and lighting the night on fire.

chapter 3: found and lost

in chapter three, ten-year-old april and fourteen-year-old elias play hide and seek and april fails to find elias. he is unfortunately never seen again.

the first line of the chapter:

There was a stretch of time when life was at its fullest, even if, for me, that meant half-empty. Ten years old, you were fourteen. Still friends, we didn’t share the usual sibling rivalry. It was midwinter, four days before my birthday. Ice glossed the branches of the spindly elm trees that studded our quiet street, scabbed the pavement so it was hard to walk.

yes i know this is set in BC and it doesn’t snow that much here but the aesthetic was too perfect so this is apparently an alternate BC where it snows a lot <3

another brief lighthouse description:

The lighthouse was a pinnacle that made an incision in the sky, clouds spiralled around it. Close enough to walk, too far to see in detail. Its lonely beam jittered over the water, even in broad daylight.

april counts and then goes to look for elias

Snow crinkled in my mittens, numbed my fingers so I could hardly move them. Rice-paper clouds obscured most of the sun, so the light that dribbled through was watery and lukewarm.

but she can’t find him

I searched every corner of the forest, every backyard of every stranger, I searched the lighthouse where I was born, I searched the rim of the ocean, which churned like a flame, licking the sand, eating it, spitting it out. The world snowglobed around me, disorientating every thought and movement. No birds, no beasts, no you. In that frozen world I was alone. The sky melted into a deep Aegean blue, and the stars winked like exit wounds, every tear an ocean, every finger an ice cap. Tears shuddered down my cheeks. They shattered on the icy pavement as I walked home, hoping you would hop out from behind a tree, a house. Maybe you were already home, maybe this was all a joke.

and time passes and they still can’t find him

Everyone said you must have drowned, even though they searched the ocean floor for days and never found your body. Maybe it had already drifted beyond our reach, they said. Maybe you were eaten by something, and your remains coated the mouth of some sea monster long assumed to be extinct.

at the end of chapter three, there’s a scene break that flashes forward to when april is fourteen, walking along the beach in a mist, and she sees elias’s ghost for the first time, and is momentarily convinced that he’s still alive, just like she thought.

It was almost unnoticeable, the way you popped up. A face in my peripheral, probably just a memory in the corner of my mind. But when I looked, you were there: a pearly mist with a face, eyes, a mouth. You breathed daylight, basked in fog like a natural habitat. I stared, unsure of what you were, where you were. Was this it? Had I been right all along? You were here, drifting in front of me, disembodied but still very much alive.

chapter 4: gooseberries

short flashback chapter! i wrote this entire chapter in about half an hour. its only 700 words, but i’m a very slow writer and that’s a lot of words for me to write in such a short time. also this chapter helped me realize that i want to write this book non-linearly! i love non-linear books and i think its a perfect form for this book!

the flashback goes to when april is still a baby (i know she shouldn’t be able to remember this but? she just does okay) and their mother takes her and elias to the woods and they hide in the roots of this tree while she goes and gets stuff for them to eat: gooseberries and pine needles (had to look up an article about edible wilderness food). april chokes on a gooseberry and elias helps her, which creates trust, and distrust of the mother because she didn’t try to help at all. thats it thats the chapter. not entirely happy with this, it needs a lot of work, but i think its still necessary to keep in the book for now.

She left, and like a mother bird, found food and brought back heaps of veiny gooseberries, her pockets stuffed with red pine needles, which she knew were edible from a wilderness survival course she took in high school. I had no teeth back then, the craggy flesh of my gums wasn’t enough to chew berries or pine needles, my throat too frail to swallow.

that’s all i have for this update! i know i said in the wip intro that there wouldn’t be updates very often, but i think the next WWD update will be soon because i’m really in flow atm!

- Ava

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