#athob

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Okay, this is fun. There's been a couple times. Can't talk about the most recent one before tomorrow, but. In Hourglass. Cashton were never supposed to be a thing. It was a one-sided crush side plot. And then Ashton looked me dead in the eyes and was like "did you really think you could put Calum next to me for an extended period of time being his cute and talented self and I wouldn't develop fEeLiNgS???" so... 😅

Oh, and let's never forget Ashton growing a sudden tragic past when I was writing what I thought would be a fun lil christmass-y one-shot fic that would later be known as All The Hues Of Blue 🤭 He was just "well, you see, I'm a bit broken. So this is not going to be just a fun one-shot. It's going to end up being a huge ass series. You're welcome 💙"

7. tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

LUCIFURR. Gosh he's so fun. Although I've never written him, him. Always about other character's perceptions of him hahahah. And, of course, Otto, my beloved 💙 Otto's always a joy to write. Can't wait to write more of him. Eventually. Some day. He's such a sweet character, I can't 🥺

15. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

Mayaa, you know the answer to this one 🤭🤭 YES! I'd love to, but. I'd also love to be involved. I have a degree in film, if in this hypothetical world they offered me the chance to work on the script, or helping the casting, or being a part of the creative team? Sign me the fuck up. Athob for example is huge on colour symbolism, I'd absolutely love to explore that in an actual film 😍😍 One can dream hahahahah

17. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

It is the hardest thing sometimes. I spent two months with Hourglass as "Batman fic" on my drafts, trying to look for a title then deciding on using the name I had given the animation studio on it for the title.

For my one-shots, unless I've had a clear direction from the beginning (Kokology), it's been hard. Then they end up being named Crayon Record Store because there was a record store on the fic and since it was Cake I wrote for my best friend's birthday, who I have saved as "Crayon" on my phone –she misspelled crying and wrote crayon once and I will never let her live it down–, well, I just put two and two together.

Then there's All The Hues Of Blue, which working title was "Christmas is all around" up until the moment I was about to post the first chapter, then the title just came to me. Funny thing, because it ended up being the thread that bound together that entire story, part of what gave it meaning. And it just... came to me. And Rare as Gold came to me when I was reading about neutron star collisions and how they're believed to be the origin of all the gold found in our galaxy (at this point I already knew what the last words of ATHOB were, and chose the title for the sequel knowing that). And... it will play a big part on the final scene 🤭

22. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you. or talk about several. seriously, writing is cool. you’re making up whole stories out of your brain, revel in that shit.

Pleasantly surprised me? 🤔🤔 There's been a lot. Of course all the friends I've met through writing, that's the first thing that comes to mind.💙 Even though I don't think that question refers to that, but. It's the most important thing.

***

“Hey.” Calum beamed as he got into the kitchen, taking off the beanie and his jacket and leaving them on the table. “You need any help?”

David frowned a bit as he looked at him as if he was surprised to see him, stopping in the middle of cutting an onion, but he still replied, “You can cut the carrots.”

“On it.” Calum smiled back, washing his hands and getting to it.

He had passed his mum on his way in, actually stopped for a hug and a kiss on her cheek that he knew must have completely floored her. He hadn’t seen Mali-Koa yet, supposed she was upstairs in her room.

His dad was softly humming along to the song coming out from the radio –Dougie MacLean, Calum thought–, apparently immersed in cutting the onions. He followed suit. Cooking with his dad had always been nice. And he hadn’t gotten to do it for a while. Not a lot, really, since a couple years ago. And before that, it had always been under the attentive supervision of his grandmother.

He peeled and cut the carrots, passed them to his dad. Peered at the tray, seeing the diced sweet potato, realising what his dad was preparing and already turning around towards the pantry and fetching two garlic cloves, setting them next to the chopped onion as the oven beeped.

“Should I start the stove?” He offered then to his dad, who muttered thanks as he drizzled some olive oil over the carrot and sweet potato, then seasoned them before putting the tray in the oven.

Calum turned on the stove, pouring a sufficient amount of oil on the pan. He stared at it for maybe a minute, hovering his hand and checking the temperature before adding the chopped onions. His father soon relieved him, taking over. So Calum took a seat at the table. Same seat where he had sat that morning. With his mum.

He watched as his dad stirred the onions every few seconds, still singing along to the song.

“Remember that time Nan scolded us both for using sunflower oil instead of olive oil?” Calum found himself saying with a slight chuckle.

He almost didn’t notice the way his father froze for a second. But then his dad was saying, “Well, in our defence, we had run out of olive oil because we used the last of it for that cake batter.”

“Soup tasted weird, though. She was right.” Calum snorted.

“That she was.” His father laughed, turning around to look at him with a smile. “Your grandmother had a knack for being right.”

His father turned back to the stove, back to stirring. The radio changed songs. Calum stared at the oven. The mitt hanging next to it was the one his Nan had had in her house. There was an actual burn at the edge of it, from one time Calum and Michael had been stupidly trying to test if the fire from the stove would be felt through it. That had been another scolding Calum could still hear ringing in his ears.

“I miss her.”

This time, he did see his father freeze. Took him five long seconds to get back to stirring, coughing as he cleared his throat.

“Me too.”

By the time Mali-Koa walked through the door of the kitchen looking for something to snack before dinner, they had already set the table, put the roasted vegetables and the onions and garlic on the blender, added the creme fraîche, and were about to press start on it.

“Smells fantastic!” She exclaimed, to which David just shook his head and started the blender.

Calum laughed as she fetched some walnuts from the pantry, extending his hand and wordlessly asking for some. Mali reluctantly passed him some, taking a seat opposite him and basically devouring the few that remained in her hand.

“How was the free day?”

“Who says I was free?” Mali-Koa fixed him a stare. “We were cleaning. Which you skipped out on.”

Calum smiled apologetically, “Sorry?”

Mali-Koa rolled her eyes at him. Calum had forgotten about that. And then he felt even worse thinking about what he was about to ask implied.