#And the space opera thing was so important also because it had been years since they had funding to put a show and it was their big comebac

[independentartistbuzz]

Indie 5-0 with Paul Shapera

Paul Shapera makes pulp operas who’s fantasy musicals cover a 180 year span of history in the fictional city of New Albion. Albums can shift genre from steampunk to dieselpunk, atompunk to weird west, psychedelic to cyberpunk, depending on where in the timeline the story is taking place. These strange tales are full of morally ambiguous characters, high drama, intricate world building, and soaring melodies.

His most recent work, Jill’s Psychedelic Sunday, covers the bounds of the psychedelic genre as we take a journey with his staple character Jill through her initiation-induced psychedelic trip. 

We got to speak with Paul Shapera about Jill’s Psychedelic Sunday and his career in this edition of Indie 5-0. So, without further ado, let’s dive in:

What made you write pulp operas like your latest release Jill's Psychedelic Sunday?

I am the son of a librarian and grew up with my mother bringing home about ten books a day for me to choose from. Thus reading and stories were ingrained in me. I first wanted to write and draw comic books, then be a straight up writer, but by high school, the incredible, emotional expression that music offered had taken hold. Creating pulp operas is the perfect amalgamation of these ambitions. I get to tell stories, paint emotional moods, and create excuses for singers to sing wailing, dramatic high notes.

Which song on Jill's Psychedelic Sunday was the most fun to write/record/produce? Which one was the most difficult?

The song Cerebral Deep was probably the most fun because the entire second half of the song is a long, at times chaotic build. I love making builds and having all these sounds come in and out was enormous fun. My second favorite is also the hardest: The Cosmic Hoedown. The Cosmic Hoedown is great fun because it’s so driving and making it keeps me in this constant, ecstatic state. However, getting the mix right required  endless tinkering. Because it’s space rock, a sweaty, hairy band of musicians could bang it out with ease. Impersonating the sound and energy of that sweaty, hairy band required a lot more finesse than one might think.

How did you come up with your cast of characters and the fictional city of New Albion? What does your creative process look like?

The sprawling epic that is the New Albion universe happens story by story.  I’ve been able to build up to longer arcs, but this was done by first mastering connected short stories, than album length tales. The very first thing i do is decide what genre of music i want to create. This will decide where in time the story will take place. Then i write the story, always leaving some holes to be filled once i’m in the middle of the process. Once the story outline is made, it’s a matter of dividing the story beats into songs. It’s important to make sure  songs aren’t simply events happening. Since this is not text but music, the best moments will be a character emotionally reacting to a situation.

It is at this point i can sit down and begin making the music. These days i first come up with the sung melody, which I’ll jot down on a piano track.  Next is my favorite part, creating the musical texture, the sound itself. Once this part begins, the structure has already been decided on, and so everything now is moment to moment decisions. As these moment to moment decisions are made, the song can take an unforeseen identity and i will usually abandon my preconceived ideas and follow where the song wants to go, as long as it still serves the larger piece. Once all the fun stuff is done, i have to do the drudgery of making sheet music for the singers and sending it off for them to learn.

Is there a genre you haven't yet explored in your pulp operas that you would love to dive into? If so, which one and why?

I always wanted to do a tribal sounding album. Lots of drums and old instruments. Peter Gabriel’s Passion meets Rusted Root meets Heilung. I don’t know when I’ll possibly get to do this as it doesn’t fit any of my current plans, but it is a style I’d like  to do.

What can your fans expect to see next?

I am extremely excited to wrap up the current New Albion timeline (I’m almost there) and embark upon a space opera. The space opera will be a sprawling tale that be well outlined in advance (with room for inspired ideas along the way) and take several years to tell. I have a decent bit of it mapped out, although I’ve tried not to, but sometimes the ideas just come. The New Albion tales were mostly assembled album by album, and this gives me an opportunity to start with a relatively clean slate and plan out a long, sprawling tale with greater and more careful intention. It will begin about 300 years from when The Lost Fairy ends and feature an entirely new cast of characters and settings, although along the way a few continuations will emerge. My goal was to finish the live show next July before hunkering down to conceive and outline it, but ideas keep showing up at my house despite having asked them to please wait.   At some point while making this space opera series i may need a break, in which case I’d like to make an album of short stories, each one being a different bit of the various creepypasta myths.

Connect with Paul Shapera via: Website / Instagram / Facebook / Twitter / YouTube / Spotify / Soundcloud

[maxwell-grant]

Excuse Me what is pulp and why is it importan?

Good question! And probably one I should have answered sooner. Time to put on the historian hat for this one.

"Pulp" is a term used mainly to describe forms of storytelling that sprang out or were dominant in 20th century cheap all-fiction American magazines from the 1900s to the 1950s. The pulp magazine began in 1896, when Frank Munsey's Argosy magazine, in order to cut costs, dropped the non-fiction articles and photographs and switched from glossy paper to the much less expensive wood pulp paper, hence the name. The pulp magazines would mainly take off as a distinct market and format in 1904, when Street & Smith learned that Popular Magazine, despite being marketed towards boys, was being consumed by men of all ages, so they increased page count and started putting popular authors on the issues.

It was specifically the 1905 reprint of H.Rider Haggard's Ayesha that not only put Street & Smith on the map as rivals to Argosy, but also inspired other companies to start publishing in the pulp format. Pulps encompassed literally everything that the authors felt like publishing. Westerns, romance, horror, sci-fi, railroad stories, war stories, war aviation stories. Zeppelins had a short-lived subgenre. Celebrities got their own magazines, it was really any genre or format they could pull off, anything they could get away with.

Nowadays, although they came quite late in it's history, the American pulps are most famous for it's "hero pulps", characters like The Shadow and Doc Savage that are viewed as a formative influence on comic book superheroes. The pulp magazines in America lasted until the 1950s, when cumulative factors such as paper shortages, diminishing audience returns and the closing of it's biggest publishers led to it dying off, although in the decades since there's always been publishers calling their magazines pulp. That's the American pulp history.

But pulps are a phenomenon that spans the entire world and has a much bigger history to it, because pulps have become synonymous with cheap fiction magazines and those have a much bigger history. In America, before the pulps, you had the dime novels, the direct predecessors of the pulps, as well as the novelettes. England had it's penny dreadfuls and story papers, and continued publishing pulp-format magazines past the American 1950s, and that's how we got Elric of Melniboné. France and Russia arguably got to it first with it's 1800s coulporters, chapbooks and particularly the feuilletons which lasted all the way to the 20th century and created characters such as Arsene Lupin, Fantomas and The Phantom of the Opera. The Germans published pulp under the name hefteromane. Japan also published pulp magazines both original as well as imported, and the current "light-novel" phenomenon started off as an equivalent of pulp magazines (it's even on the Wikipedia page). China has wuxia, Brazil has cordel, Italy has gialli. There were Indian, Persian, Ethiopian, Canadian, Australian pulps and much more. Look anywhere in the world and you'll find examples of "pulp" happening again and again, under different circumstances and time periods.

Even if we stick to American fiction, it's impossible to state that all pulp heroes must come from the 1900s-1950s pulp magazines, because that forces us to exclude some of the most popular pulp heroes like Indiana Jones, Green Hornet, Rocketeer and The Phantom. Pulp may have once been a term meant to refer to pulp magazines exclusively, but it's morphed and lost structure and it's become the closest thing we have to a general umbrella term that allows us to try and consolidate these under a shared history. It's a lot, as you can see, and it's why several pulp historians that broaden their scope outside of 1930s American fiction have adopted Roland Barthes's definition of pulp as "A Metaphor With No Brakes In It", which is still the closest thing to a true working definition we have.

Why is it important? You tell me. I don't like to stake claims about stuff being "important", everyone's got their own priorities in life. Surely a lot of people would scoff at the idea of old populist fiction published in what was functionally equivalent to toilet paper having any sort of "importance". On the other hand, some people definitely want to talk big about the pulps as a cultural bedrock of fiction, something that's baked into the lifeblood of all fiction as we currently know it. Which it is, mind you, but I don't like to talk about pulp fiction's value being derived mainly from merely the things it inspired.

There is definitely a historical importance to be had in cataloguing them. According to the US's foremost pulp researcher Jess Nevins, 38% of all American pulps no longer exist, and 14% of all American pulps survive in less than five copies. Many libraries have very scant, if any, records on them, many collectors are hard to locate and are uncooperative when it comes to sharing information and letting outsiders view their collections. A lot of them are bound up in legal complications that prevents them from taking off in the public domain, and a lot of them ARE public domain but are completely inacessible as research material. And that's the American pulps, foreign pulps have fared far worse in posterity, with records inaccessible to people unfamiliar with the language or locations, many existing merely in mentions on decades-old records, and hundreds if not thousands of them being completely gone beyond recovery or recall.

Gone, dead, wasted, destroyed. They can't be found in barbershops or warehouse or bookstores, not even in antique stores. Hundreds, thousands of characters, stories and creators, gone. Time and posterity have crushed them to dust, forgotten and ignored by their successors. Unfettered by pretenses of respectability that repressed their glossier counterparts, in packages meant to be destroyed after reading, proudly announcing itself as trash. Things that should have never even lasted as long as they did have died many times now. It's heroes peripherical shapeshifters, nearly all of whom seem dead, quite dead, as dead as fictional characters can possibly be.

But they do not die forever. Many of them have, maybe most of them have, but many of them linger on.

"The strange red flickering of 1930’s fiction seems distant now.  You hold in your hand the product of a time too remote to recall, and feel a slow stir of wonder.  The smell of pulp pages, an illustration, an advertisement, these fragile things mark the slow hammering of time and display what it has done.  About you are today’s machines, today’s shadows.

Outside the window, leaves hang against the sky, as did leaves during the 1930’s.  The sound of voices are no different then than now.  You hold the magazine and feel something quite delicate slipping past. These solid forms surrounding you are all insubstantial. Time’s hammer will also pass across them, leaving little enough behind." - Spider, by Robert Sampson

Many of the things people call dead are just things that have been sleeping for a while or haven't had the chance to be born. Pulp fiction is dead on the page, inert, unless your imagination breathes live to it, and every now and then, one way or another, these characters dig themselves out of dustbins. Maybe it's a brief revival, maybe it's a successful reboot. Maybe they find publishers, or maybe the public domain allows them to find new life. Maybe new creators do interesting things with them, and maybe, just maybe, they live again because some won't shut up about them online. Some curious impulse led you to me, did it not? 

We all have our Frankensteins to obsess over, and these are some of mine. As someone who's lived a life perpetually restless over pursuit of knowledge, pulp has lured me like a moth to flame, because I literally never run out of things to discover within it, I never run out of possibilities. As the years pass and the public domain starts being more and more open to the public, more and more narrative real state is brought forth for writers and artists and creators to play around.

Pulp is the dark matter of fiction, the uncatalogued depths of the ocean, the darkest recesses of space. It's the box of your grandfather's belongings, the treasure you find in an attic, a body part sticking out from an old playground. It's the things that don't work, don't succeed, the things that don't fit, that are out of place. That shouldn't live and succeed, and did so anyway. The things that slither in the cracks, the shadows behind the curtain.

Aren't you interested in peering on what's behind the curtain?

The exquisite workmanship of the head, of a pre-pyramidal age, and the hieroglyphics, symbols of a language that was forgotten when Rome was young–these, Kane sensed, were additions as modern to the antiquity of the staff itself as would be English words carved on the stone monoliths of Stonehenge.

As for the cat-head–looking at it sometimes Kane had a peculiar feeling of alteration; a faint sensing that once the pommel of the staff was carved with a different design. The dust-ancient Egyptian who had carved the head of Bast had merely altered the original figure, and what that figure had been, Kane had never tried to guess.

A close scrutiny of the staff always aroused a disquieting and almost dizzy suggestion of abysses of eons, unprovocative to further speculation. - The Footfalls Within, by Robert E Howard, quoted by Stuart Hopen’s The Mythic American Culture

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of the dog days of summer

monday, aug 22, 2022

on my phone again in the hopes it’ll help me preserve (some) brevity! it has not worked! vague but important spoilers below for winter’s orbit (and a little for the left hand of darkness). it’s been a while, actually, since a summer of mine has had real, actual dog days—it requires a combination of heat, breathlessness, and a feeling like time has suspended which is actually quite hard to get, as an adult. you’d think the last two years would have but, for me anyway, not really? anyway, i think we finally got there this weekend—neat. dry grass, bright days, breathlessness. thunder woke me at 2am last night, and it’s been raining on and off all day, at last, at last. i think i’m calmer than I have been in…weeks.

reading it’s been a week+ (a summer, maybe) of space operas. listening to murderbot 4 network effect any time i’m on public transit (and thinking abt how tuning in and out of the events in the audio book while commuting is a bit like having them all coming to me in a feed, actually), got 80% of the way into a memory called empire before the loan expired and i was so so bereft that i’ve turned around and started rereading ancillary justice (fascinating to pair with murderbot, i should talk about that next time). we’re talking empire, we’re talking what it means to be colonized, human- and person-ness, we’re talking gender, and cool info tech, and more political machinations and unpronounceable names than you can shake a stick at. but today’s post is for everina maxwell’s winter’s orbit, since that’s what i actually finished most recently. very good experience, i found it immediately engaging, a good mix of all the above Space Opera Themes with then lots of small touches of humor and genuine fun romance to stand out. i saw a blurb describing this as red, white, and royal blue plus imperial radch, but honestly i think it reads better as its own thing, or at most as a love letter to the left hand of darkness. (it’s not as anthropological or poetic, but there is Gender, there’s negotiations abt joining an echumen-esque galactic alliance, there’s a winter camping trip. winter’s orbit is for people who really wanted genly and estraven to get it on in that tent). is an arranged political marriage tropey as hell? yeah! did i have fun with the miscommunication and unreliable narrators? yeah! was this also one of the most searing portrayals of spousal abuse i’ve ever read? yeah. you can see it immediately if you know what to look for, the details are peppered in very intelligently. we hear the term gaslighting thrown around quite loosely these days— that’s not how i’m using it. i mean quite seriously, it’s clear through flashbacks that a character has previously been made to second guess their own perceptions by their spouse, has had their communications with friends and family shut off, privacy invaded, sense of self eroded, been shamed, manipulated, and taught to anticipate outbursts and apologizes to avoid them, and is an unreliable narrator in part because of negative self-talk learned through abuse. it’s heartbreaking. but there’s a journey of healing started, and watching the other protagonist’s righteous fury was very satisfying. also getting to destroy his own evil ex (even in a hallucination scenario) helped.

listening been spending a lot of time with my spot of fy top songs of 2021 playlist. you know how you sometimes scroll your own blog to bask in your own good taste? a bit like that. it’s also very funny, bc there are songs on there i one thousand percent have barely heard once—i guess they have to algorithmically pad it out to reach 100 songs for weirdos like me. anyway, here’s dom fera’s ‘easy thing’, which grooves like a lazy sunday mid morning bop if I’ve ever heard one but has lyrics that go surprisingly hard!

watching finished up season 2 of gentleman jack with @hematiterings (including much consternation at some of the rushed, disjointed, mystifying editing in the last episode), watched some full metal alchemist: brotherhood with her, @pep-squad-lizzie and @dimir-charmer, and finally started ‘Turning Red’ for myself! only about halfway through it, and so far the toronto details are my favorite. local friends please weigh in, but it seems like it must be fun to watch if you grew up here. i have also watched another episode of oath of love, bringing me up to 12 i think? @witcheryen they just surprised gu wei with the house warming (bet he haaaaated that) and lzx saw the hot female doctor at his window. gasp.

playing still on my stardew bullshit—more cut scenes with more characters has been really lovely, and leah gave me her statue! i have also purchased a cow and named her marigold ☺️ then tonight, got to play some more ‘it takes two’ with my xbox buddy; i have liked each level of this thing more (we’re done with the squirrels and wasps now and have reached the space-faring baboon!! the scenery is so starry and beautiful!) and have still got to hold myself back from shouting at the dialogue.

making repotted my poor fucking nasturtium, which had been gnawed off at the stem by a squirrel again. it has put out some root hairs after sitting in water for a few days, so it’s back in soil to see if it can actually pull through, but i haven’t much hope. meanwhile, the rest of the garden is starting to really produce!

working on anyone besides me not notice we’d skipped this section last week XD. which is hilarious bc I do think about work almost constantly, however it is depressing so a break isn’t a bad thing. still, as a small check-in, I’ve more or less reframed my chapter plans in my head (‘offering a reading rather than a definition; this isn’t a lexicographical project’) and now just get to explain and justify those to my supervisor on wednesday. still reading this welsh article, as part of getting extra tutoring yn gymraeg. he was very nice to me last week, which is good bc one word conversational gambits still seem to be my limit. oh, and the post doc / publication chat i had with a supportive prof last week thoroughly shook me. everything’s dandy.

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy. 

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family. 

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

.

.

.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident. 

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

.

.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them. 

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate. 

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one. 

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around. 

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former. 

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is. 

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see. 

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

.

.

.

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Follow my steps (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,8 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 12/13 added content. Claire gets fed up with the way Ethan’s been treating her lately. She gives him one last chance to make things right, at Boston Opera House - for old time’s sake.

Warnings: It’s angst time.

A/N: I don’t even know what’s going on lately. I wanted angst and here it is. My girl C really is running thin on her patience for her man’s bullshit (and so am I).

Are you okay? was the first message he received from her that day. He left shortly after he revealed his departure from the team, so her concern really should be no surprise. Still, he sighed deeply, silenced his phone and turned it screen side down, then went back to cooking, unsure what his answer would be.

Minutes dragged by, yet somehow turned into hours and before he knew it, the sun was racing towards the horizon. Almost completely consumed by it. He reached for his phone, planning on heading to his living room and rest his mind after he spent what felt like ages of grueling research into his options. His face twisted into a frown at the sight of his screen. Immediately after, blood drained from his face.

Ethan, please let me know you’re in one piece.

A simple ‘I’m fine’ would be enough. Seriously, I’m getting worried.

He battled with his brain, still uncertain what to tell her. She had enough on her plate with the team and the Boards, she didn’t need his problems to be added onto the already enormous pile. He replied with the only thing he could think of in that moment, resenting himself for letting her worry about him for so long.

I’m okay.

By the time he sat down on the couch and some ridiculous show was playing in the background – Claire was the one that introduced him to it, and he would never admit it, but he enjoyed their debates about it – a new message was waiting for him.

Oh, thank god.

Followed shortly after by a longer one, contents of which made him feel a pit opening in his stomach.

So, want to share with class why you went radio silent for the whole day, instead of, I don’t know, letting your girlfriend know that you’re not dead so she could worry a bit less?

He had no answer to that. How was he supposed to tell her that he was terrified of what was to come and that it could possibly be fatal for him? How was he supposed to say that he didn’t want her to be even associated with the case, because he cared about her too much to risk her getting affected by it too?

In the end, he didn’t reply. And she didn’t say anything else. An impasse, of his own doing, that he had no idea how to end. He knew he had to do something – she was a very patient woman, much more patient than him, but even she had her limits. And this? This wasn’t the first time he’s pushed her away in a similar manner.

Although he was aware of that, he still refused to call her. It was getting late, she was probably studying or getting ready for bed. She needed her rest, the next week was incredibly important for her future as a doctor.

That’s what he told himself for the next two days. Every time he felt a tingle in his hand to contact her, he reminded himself of her commitments and pushed the thought down. Despite that, every single time his phone made even the smallest sound, he threw himself towards it, hoping that it was her.

It wasn’t. Two days of no contact between them.

Realizing how long it’s been made him think of their conversation a few months back. They were sitting in the exact same place he currently occupied, close to each other. His hand holding hers with certainty.

They promised each other no more secrets. No more pushing each other away. And honest conversation. All of which were his ideas. He whispered all of them with deep sense of urgency, in a fever-like state that surprised her. She nodded her head eagerly, muttering words of affirmation, then let him pull her onto him, their lips meeting again and again in a soft reassurance.

He’s broken the rules he wanted them so much to have. And not even once. No wonder she didn’t try to get in touch with him – he’s given her every indication that he didn’t want to talk about it, and she pushed only until a certain point was reached.

“I can take a hint, you know.” She once joked, poking his ribs when they walked out of the patient’s room, their initial consult being far from ideal. He smiled sadly at the memory, his chest aching from her absence.

As though he called her with his thoughts, his phone announced an incoming message. He planned what he would say, what he would do once he saw her – and what he would not do in the future. He hated when they didn’t talk to each other, and he hated the thought of losing her even more.

Instead of her words, like he expected, the screen greeted him with a single picture she sent him. Two tickets, for an evening show at Boston Opera House. A clear invitation, an olive branch that she should not have been pushed to extend – she didn’t do anything wrong. He looked closer at the photo, zooming in on the time the show was supposed to start.

Two hours. He had two hours to get himself together. Two hours until he’d see her again.

Heart pounding, he jumped up from his seat and began preparations, dialing another phone number and giving clear instructions to the person on the receiving end of the call.

~

He doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was this nervous when stepping into the Opera building. And it was a different kind of nervous, a kind he never wanted to experience again. He was used to the anticipation that came with every date they ever had, the good kind of nervousness that stemmed from his inability to wait until he saw her. This, however, was torture in its purest form, and he admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he subjected himself to it on his own.

His hands were full. Full of flowers that the florist somehow managed to put together when he called frantically two hours ago – he left a hefty tip with a grateful nod. His fingers traced the stems of the white roses, shaking nervously. From time to time, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, restlessly, the uncertainty of what was to come making his breathing labored.

“Nice tux.” She called out, waiting patiently for him to face her. It didn’t take long – her voice made him turn around haphazardly, his eyes drinking in her face and then widening when he noticed the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, he couldn’t see anything else but the way the fabric hugged her in the classiest way.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed out, his brain short circuiting. Her lips curled in a subtle smile. She touched the pearl necklace he once gave her in wonder.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Ethan took a step towards her, extending the bouquet slightly with an uneasy look. Her eyes fell towards the flowers and, for a moment, he thought he could see her gaze softening. She took the roses from him, the scent reaching her in waves.

“Thank you.” she muttered without looking up at him. Despite her being just mere centimeters away from him, he could still feel the chasm between them – and he felt like the space was suffocating him.

“It’s not nearly enough.” He tried again. Claire hummed, not disagreeing with his words. She reached into her purse, taking two tickets out and handing him one of them. He accepted it gratefully, combing his mind for something that would start a conversation between them. The silence was killing him.

He looked closer at the ticket and noticed something was off. “You didn’t book our booth?”

The corners of her lips shot up slightly at ‘our’. “No, I got us seats in the booth on the other side. I needed…” she hesitated, avoiding his searching gaze. “A change of perspective.”

His mouth opened and closed. She rarely said anything without thinking it through, so the choice of words she used made him feel unease all over again. Claire finally looked up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t go bankrupt because of those.” She nodded towards the tickets in their hands. “I have more than enough money to spend on things I want.”

“That resident salary is treating you that well, huh?” he tried joking and it worked. She gave him a laugh, shaking her head.

“A resident that’s also on the Diagnostic Team. And you’re clearly forgetting what my family does for a living.”

“Did you just flex your family muscle on me?” Ethan grinned, taking another step towards her. She nodded, challenging him with her stare. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That’s your job tonight, babe.” Claire shot back, walking around him swiftly. He froze in place, turning towards her like a sunflower towards the sun – always following where she went. Her hips swayed from side to side alluringly as she walked, and he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she stopped to look over her shoulder, smirking at the look he was giving her. “Are you coming or not?”

~

The lights from the stage illuminated her face just enough for him to see her features. Since they sat down and the show has started, he’s spent a total of maybe five minutes watching what was happening on stage. Remaining time was occupied by her, on the forefront of his mind and right before his eyes. Her cheeks were reddened slightly – something he noticed when a particularly bright light shone on her face.

They’ve done it countless of times before. Dates. He never got used to nerves that accompanied them, and he hoped he never would. It was a part of the allure that made it all the more exciting. Claire’s always made him feel nervous, since the first day he’s met her. Three years later, he still felt the same spark that ran through him when he first touched her hand.

He turned to her again, unable to ignore the pang that hit him every time he saw her stopping herself from reaching for him. She may have been the one that organized their evening, giving him a chance to make things right between them, but it didn’t mean she was going to ignore what was obviously there.  

She’d never make him talk if he wasn’t ready to do so. Their relationship was built on mutual respect. They recognized when the other needed to talk and when they needed some time to gather their thoughts. Through the time they’ve known each other, they learned to find those cues and signs.

That’s how Claire knew that Ethan wasn’t really ready to tell her what exactly happened, hence why she stuck to texts instead of calls or visits. His lack of any contact, however, hurt her – more so when his previous behaviors similar to this were taken into consideration.

In light of this, her hesitation to initiate any sort of contact between them made perfect sense. All he had to do was let her know that he was okay, however relative it was to say in his current situation, and none of this would be happening. All he had to do was let her in, even if only a little – she’s never asked for anything more. And yet, he couldn’t even give her that, not immediately at least.

It became clear to him that he needed to let her know how much he trusts her. When she said she knew him. When she said she understood him – better than anyone, he added with a grin. When she said she’s falling for him. He trusted all of those words, but his actions didn’t support it. He could see it in her eyes when their gazes crossed earlier that evening. She thought he still sheltered himself from her, and him disappearing, again, was the proof that spoke the loudest.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. A soft brush of his finger against hers, testing the waters to see if she would flinch, if she would push him away or avoid him. When she did none of those things, he carefully covered her hand with his, only to, after a moment, lace their fingers together. Ethan gave her a squeeze, unable to bring himself to look away from the way their hands fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She squeezed his hand lightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Music swelled around them, tugging on their emotions until it was difficult to breathe. He noticed how her face twisted gently, revealing more of her feelings to him than he’s seen the entire evening. The characters on the stage have separated, each singing their hearts out about the feeling of loss – Claire couldn’t have known that, but the pain in their voices was enough to bring her to the edge of tears by the time the break in the show began.

Before Ethan could say anything, she excused herself breathlessly and walked out of the booth, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And he’s been alone with them for quite some time now.

He began reflecting on the first time he took her to see an opera. The similarity of the situation was striking – he suddenly knew why she suggested this out of every place they could go to. Her thoughtfulness really shouldn’t surprise him, yet he was always amazed with how well she knew what needed to be done. Oftentimes, she neglected her own needs to accommodate others, which left not much space for her in it all. That’s what became one of Ethan’s priorities early on in their relationship – make sure she remembered about herself.

She was taking care of him too, sometimes even unknowingly. Making him take breaks in the middle of the day. Bringing him coffee when he was stuck in meetings and couldn’t walk out of the room for even a second – the whole Board by now knew about their relationship from their first-hand observations, sending him meaningful looks when she left the room.

One thing that spoke more of her feelings for him than anything else was how she persistently stayed by his side through it all. His world was quite literally falling apart, and she was the one holding it in place. She told him that she knew how it felt to risk losing something you’ve worked for, how it felt to come so close to having everything slip away and that she was going to help him in any way she could.

Claire told him all of that when he broke the protocol – yet here they were again. If there was one person between the two of them that had a pattern of behavior, it was him – running away when things got too complicated. Or, as it stood right now, when he didn’t want her to get impacted by his problems. She’s told him that she wants to be impacted, that she wants to help him, because she cares about him. She’s by his side because she cares about him. And he told her he knew and understood her concern, but clearly, he didn’t register it enough, if he was in the exact same position right now. It’s as though he hasn’t learned a thing.

Perhaps she was getting tired of it. If he continued to act the way he’s been acting up until this point, she’d surely be pushed enough to leave him – and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that for himself.

It was the last time I let myself run, he thought to himself, cursing for even allowing it to get to this point. Where was his brain when he even considered it a viable option? In what universe would that behavior be okay? Her resolve and persistence became even more striking to him – he knew that he most likely didn’t deserve her.

She was still here, though, so he must have done something right. But one good deed wasn’t enough to make up for letting her down, time and time again. Ethan didn’t need her to tell him that what he was doing was unacceptable – he’s realized it on his own.

It’s never happening again.

Claire walked back into the booth, leaning against the wall to watch him. He was perfectly aware of what she could see in his posture. His nervousness in the way he played with the edge of his jacket. She’s been gone a moment too long and he was a second away from standing up from his seat to go after her.

Ethan turned around at the sound of her steps, refraining from saying anything until she was seated. His hand itched to reach for her, to feel her skin again. He got the permission to do just that, when their gazes finally crossed and she nodded gently. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he laced their fingers together, feeling the soft fabric of her dress under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, raising their joined hands to kiss her wrist. Claire guided the movement, pressing her palm to his cheek. The gesture ensured their eyes didn’t stray from one another and allowed them a moment of clarity.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” her words were laced with emotions so much, it felt like a mental blow to both of them. It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to. Nothing was more obvious to him.

“I am.”

She held his gaze, silent for a moment, then placed her second hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it again.” she whispered, a hint of a tear shining in her eyes. “We’ve talked about it before, Ethan. I’m tired of going in circles with you.”

“I know.” He brushed the tear away, bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t.” Claire agreed, nodding her head. She leaned away, lowering their hands and resting them in her lap. “You can tell me anything, in your own time. I’m the last person to judge, because I know that some things need that time. But I would never cut you out the way you just did, especially if I knew that you were worried.”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, finding no words to defend his dense behavior. He knew she was right – his behavior left a lot to be desired. Claire continued.

“It tells me that you don’t view me as your equal. You don’t trust me enough to confide in me. Every time something happens, it’s always the same story.” She sighed, falling deeper into her seat. Her hand was still in his, allowing him that form of contact. “I need transparency here, Ethan. We have rules, that you came up with, that you break every time things get tough.”

He winced at the vulnerable edge in her voice. More than ever before, he felt as though the ground was about to be pulled from beneath him.

“You can’t be in a relationship only a little. Or only on weekends. You’re either in it for good, and you take everything that comes with it, the easy and the difficult, or there’s nothing left to say.”

And there it was.

Ethan’s eyes widened. A hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making him feel lightheaded. If he ever had gotten a wake-up call before, this one was the loudest one. And the most devastating.

“Claire, wait.” He said, his voice strained when she tried to pull her hand out of his hold. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, her eyes glassy. Ethan breathed out heavily, pleading with his whole being for her to stay where she was. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair towards you.”

“That’s saying it mildly.”

“I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re my person. I trust you more than anyone else, even if I’m utterly useless at expressing it.” He gave her fingers a tender squeeze, his eyes finding hers urgently. “I’m an asshole for making you worry, and an even bigger one for keeping you in the dark. You deserve better, and lately, I’ve been messing up.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” She mused, tilting her head slightly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thumb traced her ring finger “It’s as though there is this outside force that’s making me do all those idiotic things, and before I realize what’s going on, everything’s already going to hell.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your impulse control.” Claire said, a tiny grin appearing on her face.

“You’re my impulse control.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the line of her cheekbone softly. She leaned in, just a fraction of a centimeter. Her gaze was a mix of feelings Ethan couldn’t describe – it made him feel a bit more at ease and at the edge of his seat, all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” He muttered, voice low and thick, overcame with emotions. Claire nodded her head, a sigh filling the space between them. Her eyes, even though they were growing softer just a moment ago, were now hardened and serious.

“Don’t ever do that to me, ever again.”

“Of course. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “If you don’t start treating me like your equal here, I will leave you. There’s only so much I can take, Ethan, and I draw the line at this.” Ethan’s entire body froze at a very real perspective of her walking away. The feeling of ground disappearing from beneath him came back, twice as strong. He shook his head, words rushing through his head. “And that would suck, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can’t lose you, Claire.”

“Then don’t lose me. Don’t push me away.” She breathed out, at last, squeezing his hand tightly. The atmosphere between them was heavy and it became difficult to breathe. Ethan knew they were not out of the woods, but he felt a bit less nervous when she cracked a smile. “Do I need to tie you down so you’d stop running?”

“You already did.” he mused, waiting for her permission, then leaning in to kissing her cheek softly.

They missed the second part of the show. He leaned close to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her by his side – she wrapped her hand around his forearm in return. Voice low and quiet, he finally began telling her everything, sparing nothing. Once the show ends, he’ll follow her lead – after all, he’s never gotten lost with her by his side.

Notes

Am I above dissing PB in a fic, of all places? Hell no, I’m not. 

Opera because C is clever like that - and we love throwbacks to better times. 

PB is making Ethan act like an angsty teen. And don’t get me started on the ‘prying’ bit. Ma’am, it’s not prying, it’s called caring about your husband boyfriend because something is clearly going on and it seems as though he’s covering someone else’s ass and taking a fall for it. It’s called *concern*.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[itsclydebitches]

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

[nordleuchten]

La Fayette and Emma Willard at the Opera

When Emma Willard was travelling Europe in 1830, she visited General La Fayette in Paris in late 1830. The two were close friends, had already met before and especially Willard had nothing but the purest admiration for La Fayette. In her book Journal and Letters from France and Great-Britain (1833) she re-printed several letters where she told her sister every last detail of her visit. Her letters are unusually engaging in my opinion, because they are so personal. Old letters and journals can sometimes feel very stiff, very old and completely removed from our modern reality – but hers is so lively, so ordinary that I could not help but relate to her during certain passages. Due to Willard’s hero-worship of La Fayette, I was afraid she would put him on a gigantic pedestal – but she paints a very humane picture of the ageing Marquis, one that is actually rather refreshing.

With all of that being said, here is a passage from Emma’s letter to her sister Almira Hart Lincoln Phelps from December 7, 1830:

I must now tell you, how it was that we spent the evening together. It was at the Opera Francais, usually called the Grand Opera. You will remember that he told me he had not been at a theatre since the revolution, and the first time he did go, he would go with me. One evening before had been appointed, and failed from the illness of one of the performers. It was the evening before last that we finally went [December 5]. I expected that the people would have cheered him as he entered. But he was in a citizen's dress, and went with a determination, as it appeared, not to be known.

The two boxes next, and each side the king's, were for the evening taken by the La Fayette family. There are places in each for six persons, two in front, and three deep. The General, Mrs. S-. of Baltimore, (a particular friend of Madame George La Fayette,) two of the General's grand-daughters, Col. C-, an officer of his household, and myself, filled the box to the left of the king's. Mrs. S— and myself were placed in the front seats, notwithstanding our entreaties that the General would take one of them; two of his grand–daughters had the two next, and the General was quite back where it was impossible for any one below to see him. The first piece was an opera, “Le Dieu et la Bayadère.” In this I saw the performance of M’lle Taglioni, the first dancer in the world. Much of this French opera dancing is what it should not be; but of Taglioni, though expected much, yet her performance perfectly astonished me; and I exclaimed in a pas seul, where she seemed divested of terrestrial gravity, and to fly, rather than dance, “this is the sublime of dancing!"

The scenery of the theatre — the splendor of the dresses and decorations — the crowds of actors, all capital in their parts — the perfection of instrumental music displayed by the grand orchestra, who were all so perfect in time, that it was as if one spirit played the numberless instruments — all this was admirable.

After we had been in the theatre about half an hour, an officer entered the box, bowed very low, and presented the General a paper, containing a few lines, written, as I observed, in an elegant hand. He looked rather grave, and perplexed for a moment as he read the paper; then said— “the king has sent for me to come to him. I must go, but I will return.” I begged him not to return on my account, if it would incommode him; but he said he could not consent to lose all the pleasure of the evening. Before he returned, the first piece was over; and those of the La Fayette family, in the other box, came in the interval, to greet us. Their countenances seemed a little shaded, and I though they were uneasy that he had insisted on sitting so far back. Mrs. S-. then took her place behind my chair, and all appeared determined that he should take the front seat, when he returned. Just as they had completed the arrangement, he came in, but he refused to go forward. Mrs. S-. now refused to take the seat, as did the other ladies also, who were in the box with us. Just then the sweet Mathilde La Fayette came from the other box to speak to her grand father. He told her to take the seat; and though she would not for the world have done an impolite thing by voluntarily taking the precedence of older ladies; yet she did not a moment dispute, what she saw was her grand-father's will.

Thus seated and arranged, we went through another dancing piece. It was the ballet pantomime of Manon Lescaut. The scenery and the dresses, represented the court of Louis XV. The stiff bows and curtsies,-- and hoops and trains, and elbow cuffs, -- the frizzed and powdered heads, and enormous head-dresses -- the silk velvet, gold-trimmed, long-skirted coats, and silver embroidered white satin vests,-- the little boys and girls dressed like their fathers and mothers, and curtsying and bowing as stiffly, -- the dancing of minuets -- slow, and graceful, and formal, --it was all pleasing: and the representation was historically true.

Gen. La Fayette was much amused. “Why,” said he, “this is exactly my time!” “Voila ce petit enfant!” exclaimed Mathilde, as a little boy, a sprig of nobility, in a long embroidered coat, and flapped vest, with his hair queued and powdered, appeared upon the stage. Said the General, “I was dressed just so, when I was of that age !” “Just so.”

That piece went off. But I observed that the eyes of the people, were ever and anon, turning towards our box; —and when at another interval, we rose from our seats, as every body did, suddenly there was a shout, “Vive La Fayette! Vive La Fayette!” It resounded again and again, and was echoed and re - echoed by the vaulted roof. In the enthusiasm of the moment, I exclaimed, “you are discovered - you must advance!” – and I handed him over the seats, unconscious at the moment that I was making myself a part of the spectacle. He advanced, bowed thrice, and again retreated — but the cries continued. Then the people called out “la Parisienne! la Parisienne!” You know it is the celebrated national song of the last revolution.

The curtain rose. Nourrit, an actor who, in the former piece had the principal male part, came forward. He was dressed as a Parisian gentleman. His figure was bold, and he bore in his hand an ample standard, which he elevated, waving the tri-colored flag. He had himself, been one of the heroes of the three days. He sung the song in its true spirit, amidst repeated applauses. When he came to the part where it speaks of La Fayette with his white hairs, the hero of both worlds, the air was rent with a sudden shout. I looked at him, and met his eye. There was precisely the same expression as I marked, when we sung to him in Troy; and again I shared the sublime emotions of his soul, and again they overpowered my own. My lips quivered, and irrepressible tears started to my eyes. When the song was over, the actor came and opened the door of the box, and in his enthusiasm embraced him. “You sung charmingly,” said La Fayette. “Ah General, you were here to hear me!” was the reply.

When we descended to leave the theatre, the thronging multitude reminded me of the time, when crowds for a similar purpose assembled in America. The grand opera house is an immense building. In the lower part is a large room, supported by enormous pillars, and used as a vestibule. To this room the crowd had, descended, and here they had arranged themselves on each side of a space, which they had left open for La Fayette, that they might see, and bless him as he passed. There was that in this silent testimonial of their affection, more touching, than the noisy acclaim of their shouts. There was something too, remarkable in the well defined line which bounded the way left open. A dense crowd beyond- not even an intruding foot, within the space, which gratitude and veneration had marked. I can scarcely describe my own feelings. I was with him, whom from my infancy I had venerated as the best of men; whom for a long period of my life I had never hoped even to see in this world. Now I read with him his noble history, in the melting eyes of his ardent nation. And I saw that he was regarded as he is, the father of France- aye, and of America too. America! my own loved land! It was for her sake I was thus honored, and it was for me to feel her share in the common emotion. My spirit seemed to dilate, and for a moment, self- personified as the genius of my country, I enjoyed to the full his triumph, who is at once her father, and her adopted son.

I do not know about you, but her descriptions have drawn me in, just if I had been there at the opera that day. The interactions of the family, the merry entertainment, La Fayette joking about his age and sharing childhood anecdotes, the want for historical accuracy being a think way back in 1830, the people singing their revolutionary song, the people lining up for La Fayette ...

A short clarification, the revolution mentioned in the text is not “the” French Revolution but “a” French Revolution – the July Revolution to be precise (also referred to as the French Revolution of 1830, the Second French Revolution, Trois Glorieuses or Three Glorious Days.) The Revolution saw the forced abdication of Charles X and the ascent of King Louis Philipe I. La Fayette played an important part during these events and many people of the time were of the opinion that King Louis Philipe more or less owned his crown to La Fayette. The revolution was also the reason why this visit with Emma Willard was the first visit to the opera this year for La Fayette. He thought people would think of him as vain were he to seek out a public place where the people would undoubtedly cheer for him (as they did).

[waitimcomingtoo]

Far From Her

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: the school trip to Europe makes you and Peter reexamine your relationship 

(post endgame, during far from home)

hope you’re all staying safe  

Masterlist

You gave it five months.

Five months of strictly platonic friendship following the blip before you and Peter got back together.

You were together for 8 months before it all happened. And when you came back, you both decided that if you still wanted to be together at the end of the five months, you would be. But, it you found that you worked better as friends, you’d stay that way.

Rebuilding your friendship with Peter was more enjoyable than you thought. You found yourself slowly rediscovering why you fell for him in the first place instead of forcing yourself to be with him. It was a good plan, though you missed him. But the Peter that blipped wasn’t the Peter that came back. This new Peter had seen things the other Peter hadn’t. He was sadder, and a little more guarded. He was still a good friend, but in no position to be a boyfriend. That’s why when you suggested the five month break, Peter was more than relieved. He loved you, that hadn’t changed, but he some needed time to himself. Spider-Man had become a beacon of hope for New York and Peter was feeling every ounce of that weight.

You weren’t blind to this. At a press conference May was hosting, you could see how overwhelmed Peter was, even through his mask. When he slipped away from the journalists to get some air, you followed him to the roof to check if he was alright.

“Hey.” You shut the door to the roof behind you and walked to Peter.

“Hey.” He said, relieved that it was just you. He held your hand as you sat down so you wouldn’t fall.

“You looked like you could use the company of someone who doesn’t know how to work a camera.” You commented and he gave you a half smile.

“Something like that.” He nodded before turned his attention to the horizon. You watched his face, noticing how tired and worn out he looked. You rubbed his back in slow circles to wordlessly let him know you were there for him.

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but you’re doing a great job. Just seeing your face is bringing people comfort.” You said softly. His jaw tightened as you spoke as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. You put your arm around his shoulder and pulled him in, not pressuring him to say anything back.

“I don’t know. What if I’m just giving them false hope? Everyone wants something from me, and I don’t know how much left to give.” He said quietly without looking at you. You tilted his chin to face you and gave him a comforting smile.

“You’ve already given so much. Just take it easy for a while.” You asked of him. He gave you a half baked smile and nodded.

“What about you? Is there anything you want from me?” He switched to a lighter tone.

“All I want from you is your company.” You grinned at him and he laughed.

“I can manage that.” He told you. You smiled at each other, just appreciating the others company.

“There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.” You remembered and Peter sighed as if he knew what was coming.

“Yes, there are aliens in space. I saw one.” He shuddered and you laughed in surprise.

“That’s not what I was gonna ask but we are definitely gonna get back to that later.” You chuckled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with me going on the Europe trip.”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Peter asked, who had been looking forward to spending the time with you.

“Because, I don’t know.” You suddenly felt awkward. “I know we agreed to rebuild our friendship before getting back together, but this might be too much too soon. Europe is very romantic and it could push us before we’re ready.”

“How so?” He tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t know, Peter. You might see me eating a baguette and think damn, I need her so bad. I need her so bad.” You said and he leaned into you as he laughed. “It might cripple you completely, if we’re honest. Who knows if you’ll ever recover?”

“I think I’ll be okay.” He assured you. “And where are you getting this baguette from? We’re going to Italy.”

“They have baguettes in other parts of the world, dude. God, you disappear for 5 years and come back acting like you don’t know nobody.” You joked, making Peter laugh again.

“Alright, alright. What about you, though? What if you see me eating some gelato and fall irrevocably in love with me?” He dished it back and you burst out laughing. “What if you’re so turned on by the sight of me eating that creamy gelato that you become paralyzed?”

“I hear that happens a lot, actually.” You told him. “You’re such a good friend for thinking of me.”

“I try, I try.” He agreed. Your laughter died down and he looked at you fondly. “I’m glad we’re doing this. I need a break from it all. Not from you, though.”

“Me too.” You looked up at him before resting your head on his shoulder. You sat in comfortable silence for a while, just taking the time to be with each other.

~

You weren’t in Italy for even five hours before you were attacked. You had been standing by the docks, talking to Peter when a giant wave came from the water. You made eye contact from a distance and he gave you a knowing nod. He helped Ned and Betty out of a boat as he made his way to you.

“What is that?” You asked him as the water took shape.

“I’m not really sure. It wasn’t in any of the pamphlets.” The wheels in Peters brain turned as he thought of his next move.

“I’ll make sure everyone on the ground is safe. Try to get as high as you can and do your whole spider thing.” You strategized and he turned his attention back to you.

“Okay.” Peter nodded right as a massive wave was sent your way. He wrapped one arm around you and used the other to shoot a web at the wall. You both flew back against the wall and he covered you with his body as the wave hit.

“I gotta go. Be safe.” He instructed before he turned to swing away.

“Peter, wait.” You called, still pressed against the wall. He turned back to you and you grabbed his face, kissing him like it’d be the last time. “Please make it back this time.”

All he could do was nod before you ran after your friends. He watched you even after you had left before swinging to the tallest building to fight the water.

~

“Hey, Pete.” You leaned against his doorframe in your pajamas later that night. Unbeknownst to you, a very impatient Nick Fury was also in the room. Peter smiled at little at the sight of you ready for bed, but quickly cleared his throat when he remembered Nick Fury was losing his patience.

“Hey, uh, hi.” He stumbled over his words as an angry look crossed Fury’s face.

“Can I come in?” You asked and Peter looked to Fury for approval. Fury took a gun out from his hip and pointed it at you, out of your sight. Peter gulped and shook his head.

“No!” He held up a hand to keep you from coming any closer. “Ned is sleeping and you might wake him.” He said the first excuse he could think of.

“Oh, okay. No problem.” Your face faltered a little and Peter knew heaven was unintentionally hurting your feelings. He looked at Fury again, who looked like he was ready to kill Peter, and Peter had a feeling he’d do it.

“He’s really sleepy.” Peter said, never taking his eyes off Fury.

“Right.” You nodded awkwardly. “Do you have a minute to talk? About before?”

“Before?” Peter squeaked, playing dumb so you wouldn’t bring up the kiss in front of Fury.

“When we -uh- when I, you know…” You trailed off, wondering if he really didn’t remember you kissing him.

“Right, that. Totally forgot about that.” Peter lied. “Can we talk about it some other time maybe? I’m really busy right now.”

“Busy brushing your teeth?” You half laughed and nodded to his toothbrush. Peter looked to Fury for help, but found none.

“Dental hygiene is very important.” Peter stated.

“Sure. Some other time, then.” You nodded curtly and left his room. Peter sighed in relief when you walked away.

“That was my-“ He tried to explain.

“I don’t care.” Fury boomed. “Next person to walk through that door gets shot.”

Peter complied and reluctantly followed Fury onto a boat, thinking about you the whole ride.

~

After having to ditch you at the opera to fight an elemental, Peter positioned himself outside your door with an apology ready. You had made plans to sit together before Peter remembered he had previous arrangements. He slapped his face to react himself and knocked on your door. Every second he waited for you to open him brought more anxiety. Finally, you opened the door to him and your face saddened.

“Hey.” You said softly.

“Hi.” Peter responded, nervously shouldering his backpack.

“I missed you at the opera.” You spoke. Peter sighed in defeat and nodded.

“I was sick.” He barely committed to his lie.

“Right.” You nodded, not believing it when Ned told you the first time and not believing it now.

“Did you maybe want to go on a walk?” Peter asked timidly. “I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to talk really since we got here, and I have something I want to tell you.”

“Yea, sure.” You said, knowing what was coming. “I’ll grab my jacket.”

You and Peter walked a few paces from the hotel until you were past the entry way. Peter dug his hands in his pockets, looking nervous and unsure of himself. You studied his body language and chewed your bottom lip, his nerves giving you nerves.

“Y/n, I-“ Peter began.

“Don’t want to get back together.” You finished his sentence for him with a defeated but accepting look in your eye. Peters entire body retracted in confusion at your statement. He was about to tell you he loved you and wanted to get back together. After the kiss, he thought you felt the same way.

And then you hit him with that.

“What?” He stammered.

“It’s fine, Peter. You don’t have to say it. I got all your hints.” You folded your arms, putting your guard up. Peters felt a twinge of pain at your actions. He never wanted to be someone you needed to guard yourself around.

“My hints?” He repeated. “Wait, what?”

“In your room the other night.” You reminded him like it was obvious. “You refused to talk about the kiss. You wouldn’t even look at me.” You said the last part like it stung you to even think about.

“I have a reason.” He promised, realizing he was losing his handle on the situation quicker than he wanted.

“What’s your reason?” You asked. Peter was dumbfounded for a moment. He was specifically instructed not to tell you his reason.

“It’s a secret reason.” He offered timidly and you rolled your eyes.

“Is it the same reason you ditched me at the opera?” You humored and you shoved your hands in your pockets.

“Yes.” He said weakly.

“How convenient.” You laughed bitterly and distanced yourself from him.

“It’s a really good secret reason!” He pleaded with you to understand.

“I bet it is.” You looked up at the sky to keep from crying. “You don’t have to lie to me, Peter. You obviously took me on this walk to tell me you didn’t want to get back together.”

“I’m not lying. I took you on this walk because I wanted to talk to you for once. And I wanted to sit with you at the opera.” Peters voice cracked as he got emotional. “I really, really did. But I have a lot going on that I’m not allowed to tell you about. You think I don’t want to be walking the streets of Italy, holding your hand? I would so much rather be spending every second of this vacation with you than what I have to be doing.” He cried as you stood silently. “I’d love to talk about the kiss. I’d love to hear about every second of that four hour opera from your perspective. But I can’t. You have to believe me when I tell you, I just can’t.”

“Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even upset.” You shrugged and wiped a tear from your cheek. “I should be used to you leaving by now.”

“What are you talking about?” He panted.

“You left the bus when we were going to MOMA. Ned told me you jumped off to follow that space ship.” You brought up for the first time since The Blip. Peter tilted his head in confusion, never knowing that bothered you.

“The Avengers needed me. I had to go.” He said like it was obvious.

“Did they call for you?” You questioned and Peter was caught off guard.

“No.” He realized, still not knowing why it mattered.

“I did.” You told him. “When the cars piled up because drivers had disappeared from their cars, I looked for you. And when our bus got hit from the back because the person driving behind us turned to dust, I called out your name. And when kids started faded away, kids I knew, I started to cry because I couldn’t find you. With dust in my lungs, dust made up of my classmates, I cried out for you. And you weren’t there. You were off helping the Avengers.”

“I didn’t know that.” Peter said quietly. You looked at him with a pained expression.

“You abandoned me, Peter.” You whimpered as tears fell down your cheeks. “Now I know that if the world was ending, I wouldn’t even cross your mind. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“I didn’t know what was gonna happen.” He tried to defend his actions, but even he knew what he did was wrong. He left you during the most traumatic moment of your life.

“But you knew something was gonna happen. And when given the choice, you chose to run to the Avengers instead of me. And I bet Mr. Stark tried to send you home. I bet he told you to leave but you wouldn’t go, am I right?” You asked and Peter reluctantly nodded. “I know it’s selfish of me to even think this. A part of me knows that this is your job and you had to go. But the other part, the other part of me really wishes I could’ve seen my boyfriend one last time before I disappeared. Is that selfish?”

“No.” Peter sniffled as his heart broke.

“I don’t mean to blame you. But Peter, you jumped out of a moving bus and swung away without anybody seeing you. I’m pretty sure you could’ve tapped me on shoulder and told me you were gonna leave. I could’ve gone with you. I could’ve helped.” You said weakly and Peter could see just how hurt you were. How hurt he made you.

“You could’ve gotten hurt.” He protested.

“Look at me, Peter. Do I not look hurt to you?” You laughed sadly.

“I didn’t think when I saw the spaceship. I just acted.” He tried to defend his actions, but even he knew he was in the wrong.

“I didn’t even get a goodbye.” You looked down and hugged your jacket to your body as Peter realized what this was about. You didn’t want him to not help the Avengers. You just wanted a goodbye from your boyfriend before he ran off to space to fight a war he didn’t start.

“I’m sorry.” Peter said sincerely. He took a step towards you and you took a step back.

“I was looking for you as my body turned to dust. I just needed to see your face one last time to know everything was going to be okay.” You mumbled. “Were you looking for me too?”

“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged in defeat. You both knew he wasn’t. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“I don’t know either. Maybe that’s the answer, though. Maybe we’re just too different now. I know we broke up to find ourselves, but maybe the people we found aren’t meant to be with each other.” You found some strength in your voice as you took the emotional upper hand.

“I don’t believe that.” Peter insisted, grasping at the straws of your relationship.

“Look at the material, Peter!” You stated. “Can you honestly look at me and say I’m the girl you fell in love with?”

“No.” Peter said after a moment of contemplation. “You’re not her.”

“But that’s who you want.” You said tearfully. “That’s who you look for everytime you look into my eyes. You want the girl who lived across the hall who you used to stay up all night watching movies with, and the girl you knew like the back of your hand. She’s the one you look for, but it’s me who disappoints you when you can’t find her.”

“But I love you.” Peter swore.

“And I love you.” You told him.

“More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” He continued.

“But what if that’s all we have? We can say we love each other, but do we know each other? Can we still read each other? Or am I just a stranger you think you recognize?” You tilted your head and he thought about it.

“I don’t know.” He said, dumbfounded again.

“I don’t think I want to find out.” You said before digging through your bag. You pulled out a black device covered in Peters webs and shoved it into his hands. “Here. I found this by the Ferris wheel. I was there, by the way. And apparently, so were you.” You said as you began to walk back towards the hotel. Peter looked at the device curiously before calling o to you.

“Please don’t go.” He begged you, his heating up with panic.

“I’m taking a page out of your book, Peter.” You called, never looking back.

Peter held the device in his hands, watching you walk away until his vision was blurred with tears. He dropped the device to rub his eyes, causing it to project an elemental monster he hadn’t seen before. When Peter saw Mysterio flying around in the projection, he realized leaving you wasn’t the only mistake he had made that day.

~

Peter found himself battered and bruised on Happy’s jet after he tried to tell Fury about Mysterio. Mysterio somehow got ten steps ahead and nearly broke Peters will to go on with his illusions.

Nearly, but not quite.

As Peter sat in the jet, entire body aching and head throbbing, he thought of you. It might be impossible to take down Mysterio on his own, but he’d do it if it meant you’d be safe.

“Can you dial Nick Fury’s number on my phone? I gotta get started on this suit.” Peter asked as he tossed his phone to Happy. Happy opened the phone app and was alarmed with the number of notifications Peter had.

“Do you ever check your voicemail?” Happy said when he saw the multiple messages in Peters inbox.

“My what?” Peter asked as he finished up the suit.

“Voice mail. The messages people leave when you don’t answer their calls.” Happy explained like it was obvious.

“That’s a thing?” Peter wondered and Happy looked unamused.

“I hate teenagers.” He grumbled. “Look at this, 28 from May, 13 from Ned, 6 from Y/n. Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

“From Y/n? From when?” Peter walked to Happy and peered at the phone.

“April 10th 2018.” Happy read the date.

“That’s the day we all blipped.” Peter realized. “Can I see that?”

“It’s your phone, man.” Happy said tiredly as he handed the phone to Peter. Peter quickly played your message and put it on speaker phone.

“Hey, Peter. Its Y/n. I don’t know where you went but I’m getting kinda worried. The sky got really dark all the sudden and the road is building up like crazy. Can you call me please? I just need to know you’re safe. Alright. I love you. Call me back.” Your voice sounded through the phone. Peter listened with a pained expression as he played another one.

“Hey Peter. It’s me again. The bus got hit by another car. I don’t…I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out of this. I love you. Wherever you are. Okay. Bye.” A tearful message played. Happy took Peters phone before he could torture himself with another message.

“I messed up.” Peter said stolidly as tears fell from his eyes.

“Yea, kid, you did.” Happy agreed. Peter didn’t say anything, just cried silent tears as Happy watched.

“Look, if she was dumb enough to date you, she’ll be dumb enough to take you back. Okay?” Happy tried to comfort him.

“I gotta see her.” Peter decided, wiping his face.

“Sure. Just save Europe first, if you could. Then you can talk to your girlfriend.” Happy bartered. Peter nodded and readied himself to enact the plan.

~

A few hours later, Peter limped along Tower Bridge after taking down Mysterio. He was exhausted, dirty, and in a desperate need to see you. He looked around for a moment, thinking he heard your voice, but ultimately decided it was his imagination playing tricks on him.

“Peter!” He heard your voice again and heard footsteps accompanying it. He stumbled through the smoke until he saw you running towards him.

“Y/n?” Peter asked before your arms were thrown around him. He immediately hugged you back, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to keep from breaking down. “I thought I lost you.”

“I know the feeling.” You squeezed him back, apologizing and making up all in one hug. You tucked some hair behind your ear and gave him a tight smile. “Is Mysterio gone?”

“Yea, he’s gone.” Peter said as you rubbed some dirt off his face.

“So everything’s okay now?” You asked, giving him a once over to check for injuries.

“No, it’s not.” Peter shook his head. “Nothing will ever be okay as long as you and I are broken up.”

“I understand what you’re trying to say, but in the current context of our situation, I just feel like that was out of pocket.” You told him.

“I don’t care.” He protested. “Y/n, I just got hit by train, jumped out of a jet, and nearly got shot in the head. But during all of that, all I could think about was seeing your face again.”

“You got hit by a train in broad daylight?” You repeated.

“I think I only survived because I knew I had to come back to you.” He laughed lightly. You stoped thinking about the train and looked at him fondly, taking in what he had said.

“Peter.” You bit your trembling lip and rested your arms around his shoulder. He pulled you by the waist and rested his forehead against yours.

“When I was laying on that train seat, bleeding out, the only thing I could think of was you.” He said softly. “You made a lot of good points on our walk. I did leave you that day on the bus. And you’re right. You’re not the girl I fell in love with.”

You pulled away a little and looked at him curiously. All he gave you was a smile.

“You’re braver, smarter, stronger, and more badass than that girl ever thought she could be. And the girl I see today? The girl I see when I look into your eyes, I’m in love with her.”

“In love with me?” You smiled at his confession.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“Was it the gelato?” You teased and he let out a laugh.

“It might’ve been.” He said before pulling you into a long awaited kiss. You pulled apart after a moment but stayed in each other’s embrace.

“I’m gonna change.” Peter mumbled. “I won’t abandon you this time. I don’t ever want to be far from you again.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human​ @celestial-skylines  @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2  @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @thegr8kush @dnsa-parker @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @probablyparker @awkward-danish-girl

[heloflor]

Fun facts to notice about Cavendish and Dakota’s personalities

So most of this is probably stuff that a lot of people already noticed but I still wanted to compile it. And this list is way longer than I thought it would (did this post accidentally became a character analysis/deconstruction ? Maybe ?). One last thing : “fun” is a very loose term here.

- When he’s excited/very happy about something, Cavendish becomes touchy. For example, you have the last minute of “Time Out”, the scene with Professor Time near the end of the PnF crossover and the resolution of “Managing Murphy’s Law” (the episode where they discover the memory eraser machine). On the same vein as “Time Out”, there’s the beginning of “Abducting Murphy’s Law”.

He also seems to be touchy when he’s nervous, as we see in “Snow Way Out”, though he seems more to bite his nails or hold his hands a certain way when nervous. Also, Dakota never really reacts when Cavendish grabs him (which I find hilarious and adorable; it’s like it was a normal thing for him).

Finally, one could argue that he can get touchy when sad, given the last minute of “Snow Way Out” (Cavendish be like “Sir this is my emotional support husband” everytime he feels a strong emotion that isn’t anger/annoyance), but it only happens once, or Dakota is the one reaching out when Cavendish’s feeling down.

- On a related note to that first point; and though it goes without saying because everyone in the fandom already knows it : Cavendish and Dakota basically have no physical boundaries when it comes to each other. They constantly get into each other’s personal space without warning, with the other not being bothered in the slightest. Like their first physical contact is literally Dakota putting his hand over Cavendish’s (“Smooth Opera-tor”) and none of them seem to care about it, as if it was normal.

They also seem to be the characters who hug and get into each other’s arms the most and, if we were to put every character in pairs (and by pair I mean that for the main trio, it would be three pairs in total) and count how many physical contact every pair had, Dakota and Cavendish would either be the ones with the most contact or very close to the first (since they don’t show up in every episode but when they do appear, they touch at least once in almost every episode).

- Another thing that everybody already noticed but still : that whole gimmick with Dakota explaining something/a joke until he’s cut by Cavendish saying “I get it” (gimmick that they kind of lost in season 2).

- While Cavendish acts in a way that makes him seem very self-centered, every time he and Dakota find themselves in a dangerous situation, Cavendish’s thoughts are first and foremost on Dakota’s wellbeing. Examples : at the beginning of “The Island of Lost Dakotas”, when Cavendish sees the construction site thing fall, the first thing he says is “You [Dakota] could’ve been hurt !”; in “Fungus Among Us”, he calls out for Dakota when the latter tries to run away after eating the small pistachions; in the PnF crossover, he keeps saying “be careful” when Dakota tries to get a ‘time clock’ but most importantly he puts himself in front of Dakota when attacked by a Pistachion, with his facial expression clearly showing that he expects to die, and when Dakota scolds him for it, Cavendish defense shows that he would have no hesitation going back in time to protect Dakota. Finally, in “Disco Do-Over”, he shows concern when Dakota’s being beaten by the old lady; during this season he ghosts Dakota with the excuse of wishing to protect him; and in the last episode of season 2, right before the “I fall down” song, Milo comments on the team’s looks, which brings Cavendish to say “Prepared and Protected”. And as he says “protected”, Cavendish knocks on Dakota’s helmet, as if, when he says “protected”, he’s mostly thinking about Dakota being protected.

- Cavendish and Dakota act differently in public and in private. When in public, Cavendish has that ‘serious’ and ‘done with your shit’ attitude, almost acting all-mighty. But when in private, he’s shown to be much nicer but also drops the confident façade and shows his fears and insecurities. For example, his panic in “Snow Way Out”. As for him being nicer, there’s the fact that he calls Dakota a ‘meanie’ in the Halloween episode, which is an improvement over “We’re Going to the Zoo”. In general, it also feels like he sees Dakota as an equal, compared to how he treated him at the beginning of the show.

As for Dakota, he acts lazy and laid-back in public (to the point where he sometimes reminds me a bit of Sans. Seriously) but, in private, he’s grumpier and talks about what bothers him.

The best example for this dynamic is at the beginning of “Perchance to Sleepwalk”, with Dakota complaining about Block not believing them about the Pistachions and Cavendish actually trying to comfort Dakota.

You know, this difference of dynamic is actually pretty sweet. As I said, Cavendish has a tendency to act like some villain who bosses around his underdog, especially during the first episodes. But the way they act in private shows that their relationship is actually much healthier than that. Also, the way Cavendish expresses his insecurities and Dakota vents to him shows that there’s a lot of communication between them, which can explain how they were able to keep up such a strong relationship for so long. The two of them trust each other, care for each other and view each other as equals. Though, I have to admit, this difference in behavior also really fuel my headcanon that the two had been married for years but had to get used to hide their relationship due to travelling in the past (and the reason why they call each other by their last name is because Cavendish noticed that people used to do that in the 18th century with people who aren’t family, so he convinced Dakota that they should try doing that to hide their relationship better; because let’s be honest, if there’s something between them, they are really bad at keeping it a secret).

- A short one, but Cavendish softens as the first season progresses. At the beginning, he mostly has that ‘all-mighty know-it-all’ attitude and acts like Dakota was his underdog, though there were some signs that Dakota wasn’t letting himself being walked over, the best example being “Murphy’s Lard”.

Then, after “Time Out”, Cavendish starts being nicer, showing more appreciation for Dakota and even showing some amusement about the bet in “We’re Going to the Zoo”. Finally, after “Missing Milo”, Cavendish completely softens up and becomes the character we’re used to see.

- Dakota seems to act laid-back as a counter point to Cavendish’s irritation. When you think about it, the times when Dakota is the most laid back are the times when Cavendish is the most irritated. The best example for this has to be “Abducting Murphy’s Law”. At the beginning of the episode, Cavendish goes on a rant about their job and you can see Dakota, who was frustrated two seconds ago, close his eyes for a few seconds. And when he reopens them, he starts talking about eating lunch. Then, when Cavendish calls him out on his attitude, Dakota becomes serious again to give Cavendish a reality check, only to then ask Cavendish if he wants food. In a way, it feels like Dakota uses his laid-back personality as a way to soothe Cavendish, to try to make his less tense.

- Cavendish seems to have a pretty low self-esteem. This is something that I’m pretty sure everyone has already picked on, but I still feel the need to mention it for one reason. First off, for those who haven’t noticed, basically Cavendish is borderline obsessed with saving the world and being someone important, and the fact that Dakota seems to be a better time-traveler than him probably doesn’t help (“Time Out”). This would also explain his need to give Dakota orders while on mission.

But one thing I want to mention about Cavendish’s desperation to be important is the PnF crossover. Indeed, in this episode, there’s a moment when Cavendish is ready to get himself killed to save Dakota (as mentioned earlier). But thing is, Cavendish’s facial expression bothers me in this scene. He looks resigned, as if knowing that he’s going to die, but at the same time, I feel like his action is some kind of cry for help or cry for attention.

But why would he suddenly feel this way ? Simple : the island of lost Dakotas. As I said, Dakota is a better time agent than Cavendish, which is something Cavendish seemed to have learned to accept, probably helped by Dakota letting him be the boss. But when he discovered the island, Cavendish also discovered just how much of a better person Dakota was. And yes, Cavendish was genuinely touched by what Dakota did, it clearly made him happy. But at the same time, it could’ve created some strong insecurities. After all, he just discovered that Dakota was willing to sacrifice his life hundred of times for him, while all he did was being an ass while on the job. So with that in mind, it’s possible that Cavendish wanted to prove himself to be a protector too and prove it to/repay Dakota, using the first opportunity he could to try showing that; being willing to give his life to show he can be great as well.

But hey, all this is just speculation from someone who almost only writes angst so what do I know.

- Dakota’s a mess during the second half of season 2, but it’s pretty justified given the circumstances. First off, when I say that he’s a mess, I mean that for a guy who’s always chill and in a funny mood, he has no patience whatsoever when interacting with Heinz (though you could argue that he already found Heinz annoying; and there might still be some disappointment regarding the whole ‘Professor Time’ situation). There’s also the episode “Escape” in which Dakota keeps switching between being sad to angry to hopeful (the hope in his eyes when Heinz starts the clone machine…) to miserable/hopeless. We also see him get up quickly, accidentally knocking Cavenpuss in the process and not giving a single shit about it. But yeah, someone please give this poor man his husband back (and I could say “someone please give him a hug” but he does get one in the next episode so…).

I swear you could make a drinking game out of all the times Cavendish’s name is said in this episode alone.

As for the justification of him being a mess, reminder that Cavendish has a track record of dying and Dakota not only has no idea where the guy is but he can’t go back in time as well, meaning that, if Cavendish dies, it will be permanent.

- In “Picture Day”, there’s that scene with Cavendish and Dakota ‘cuddling’ for warmth after arriving in the wrong place. During this small moment, Dakota has a face as if he was chattering his teeth but his teeth doesn’t actually move, giving him a borderline panicked expression. Two interpretations here : 1. It’s an animation error. 2. It’s probably the first time the two are in a dangerous place since their lost their job. In other words, this might be the first time Cavendish could potentially die since they lost the ability to time travel. So what if Dakota’s expression is from realizing just how mortal Cavendish now is, and how powerless he is to stop death ?

- Dakota doesn’t seem to follow a dream or want much from his life. As said before, most of the time, Dakota is pretty laid-back and lazy. The only time he mentions a life goal is in “Time Out” with the Mississippi purchase. But overall, Dakota just acts like he was satisfied with his life, despite not liking his job in season 2 and despite the small ‘apartment’, and seems like he just wants to have fun and be with Cavendish. Heck, in “School Dance”, he admits that he has no idea what the plan is, he’s just following Cavendish around. On that note, he also seems lazy regarding his job as a time agent because he knows that what he does doesn’t really matters when you can just go back in time and fix it (the Sans vibes are coming back !). So yeah, Dakota feels like a guy who accomplished what he wanted to do with his life and is now just want to enjoy his time and be with his husband Cavendish.

- Finally, I know everyone already noticed this, but Dakota has that tendency to just stare at Cavendish with a smile or a smirk while Cavendish is ranting. I’m just mentioning it because it’s adorable.

[fictionadventurer]

Thoughts on Edwardian literature (as opposed to Victorian)?

To keep things as simple as possible, I’m defining Edwardian fiction as anything published between 1900 and 1914, no matter which country it was published in.

The Edwardian fiction I’ve read seems to be a lot lighter than the Victorian fiction. Maybe it’s easier for the lighter works to stick around since not as much time has passed? Or maybe it’s just that the age of pay-by-the-word epics had passed? (Is this the point where cheap paperbacks started to be a thing? That could account for the rise in short, fluffy literature, unless my just-making-this-up-off-the-top-of-my-head method of historical inquiry turns out to (somehow) be faulty).

First association with this era’s always Chesterton. My love of him is no secret, and a lot of my favorites of his works come from this pre-war era.

Graybeards at Play was his first published book of poetry--conveniently, for the purposes of this post, in 1900. According to Ward, even Chesterton hated it. (He always considered The White Knight his first published book). I don’t think it’s deserving of hatred. It’s like, four or five poems. They’re light and forgettable (I couldn’t have told you a thing about any of them an hour after I read them), but there’s nothing all that terrible about them.

I don’t talk enough about my love for The Napoleon of Notting Hill. It’s such a fun story, and a lot of the ideas of it form important parts of my mental landscape. I think of it every time I see a Renaissance Fair, and any time there’s a Cheat-the-Prophet style prediction about the future. So much of it is so very silly, but it’s built on such an interesting tension between people who care too much and people who don’t care enough. Adam Wayne and Auberon Quin are such good characters. The ending section always kind of creeps me out--of all things, it made me think of Elmo Saves Christmas, because both stories left me with an extremely unsettled feeling when the silly story turns into an unexpectedly dark alternate reality--but the ending reconciliation between Quin and Wayne is excellent.

Manalive is delight in novel form. It was the first book I ever read by Chesterton and it changed my life. At first, I was just blown away by the love of life shown in the pages, but I thought it a better essay than a story. Later rereads have made me appreciate the excellent character work and the turns of the plot.

The Ball and the Cross was an excellent book, but very weird. A lot of the issues are still relatable, but I don’t understand the weird mystical happenings of the later part of the book.

I think Chesterton’s essays are my favorites of the things he’s written. “On Running After One’s Hat” is a particular favorite. As is the one about drawing with chalk on brown paper.

Lepanto is one of my favorite poems of all time. Ballad of the White Horse gets a bit long and repetitive, but it’s a stirring epic.

I have an entire section of Father Brown reread posts that go into my love of the stories. Those rereads gave me a greater appreciation of the stories as stories, rather than Chesterton essays. I low-key regret that I was never able to finish my post for the last story in Innocence. The reread posts were a big undertaking, but I would have liked to have had posts for at least the first volume of stories. (But there was something about that last story that just halted all attempts to say anything about it.)

Oh, how can I forget about Orthodoxy? Absolute cornerstone of my mental landscape. But Chesterton has already taken up far too much space here.

I’ve also got two years’ worth of Psmith Pseptember posts talking about my love of Wodehouse’s work in this period. They may not be Wodehouse’s best work, but they might be my favorites. It kind of shocks me to remember that the Psmith author is the same guy who wrote the Jeeves and Wooster stories, because I’ve kind of split them up in my mind. So much similar between the series while feeling so different.

I always assumed The Phantom of the Opera was the quintessential Victorian Gothic novel, but I ran across a copy this week and was shocked to see that it was published in 1911. I like the book, especially the parts that didn’t make it into the musical. I love that the book casts Raoul as the hero of the piece and plays up the horror of the Phantom’s past, making him this exotic genius. (The scenes with the traps below the opera house? Shivers.)

I seem to have developed a deep fondness for A.A. Milne’s adult books. His sense of humor is so relatably daffy, and I can see why he hated only being known for the Pooh books. I have a copy of The Sunny Side that I read about half of, and I really need to go back and finish the rest of the stories sometime.

Peter Pan is...fine. I was glad I read it, but I can’t say it’s a favorite.

This period also gives us Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. The first book deserves its status as a classic. It was one of the first books I ever bought for myself at full price (I had won a bookstore gift certificate). I hadn’t even heard of it before, but I loved it. Then I tried to read the second book and got so bored that I never finished it, and I never read the rest of the series until I was an adult. I’ll always hold a grudge toward that second book for depriving me of years of Anne enjoyment.

A Little Princess was one of the only books I got as a gift as a kid (my parents are not bookish). My aunt gave it to me, with an inscription saying it was one of her favorite books. I read it lots, still have that copy, and was glad to see that it held up when I reread it last year.

Daddy-Long-Legs was a book I discovered thanks to tumblr recommendations, and I loved it. Such an engaging voice! (Though the twist does make the MMC a bit skeevy). The musical is rather good, too.

The Rosary by Florence Louisa Barclay was an impulse pick when I was looking for free Kindle books. (It has nothing to do with religion--The Rosary is the title of a song the character sings). It was apparently the bestselling novel of 1910, and I can kind of see why. The characters and humor are surprisingly sharp, and the romance is sweet, even though it devolves into improbable tropes. I’ve only read it once, but I have intensely fond memories of it, and it always makes me wonder what other Edwardian gems have been lost to obscurity.

Kilmeny of the Orchard has some beautiful descriptions and cute characters, which makes it a crying shame that the entire plot hinges upon complete medical codswallop.

There are a lot of books that I think of as Edwardian that turn out to have been published during WWI or the ‘20s. But that’s probably a good thing because this post is already far too long.

[utterlyinevitable]

Their first kiss is so sweet! What is Odes friends reaction to the news? Naveen and Alans?

What was their first time like? Did she stay with Ethan in his bed?

Do they get the big house? Does she like to play for him? What was going through Odes mind when she went home after their first kiss? Was their next interaction awkward? What was their first official official date like?

Thanks for indulging me and answering my questions about these two! Let me know if its too much 😬

> ask me anything < 

I’m going to answer kinda out of order as I think about things lol 

So Odette gets into her apartment building and walks to their flat in kind of a haze, like she’s not quite sure anything after dinner actually happened. A part of her thinks she fell asleep at work and made up the whole evening anyway. She makes as little noise as possible padding through the apartment. None of her friends are in the common areas and she’s glad for that. She goes to her room and leans against the shut door with a small unbelievable sigh she didn’t know she was holding in. And then suddenly she shoots up to attention and fumbles trying to fist her phone out of her clutch. She calls Ethan - he’s still in the cab, it’s only been about 4 minutes since he dropped her off. “I am so sorry” she says when she hears his receiver pick up. Ethan couldn’t help but expel a chuckle, then says “I was worried for a second there”. 

They talk things through a bit that night. When they see one another at work two days later they are a bit.. quieter with one another? A few members on the DT and nursing staff on their floor notice a shift but don’t think anything further into it. It doesn’t last long and when people see Ethan driving her home like he usually does they assume it must’ve been the caseload getting to them. 

Their first date after the kiss and them talking things through is to the opera. Its an event she agreed to go with him weeks ago - before they were more than friends. Nothing seemed different except now she didn’t feel the need to make sure there was some space between them as she draped her arm through his. She didn’t need to stand straighter or be on the defensive - to prove that she belonged on his arm. She was here with her boyfriend enjoying one of their shared passions. 

Her friends are not surprised at all that they’re together. They really just make fun of her and comment about how long it’s taken Ethan and Ode to get together. Especially since the gang concocted a short-sighted plan at her birthday party to push the two in the right direction. 

Naveen isn’t surprised either. Ethan’s favorite topic of conversation is Odette. The two could not have a get together or lunch without him bringing up how she’s been handling the DT, cases, studying for boards, or something she’s done to upset or wow him. Naveen’s first comment is “So when’s the wedding?” which makes Ethan blush and turn right back around and leave the old Chief chuckling. 

Alan was the last to find out. Ethan kinda forget to tell his father he’s dating his best friend -- the woman who’s gotten under his skin one too many times. It wouldn’t be the first time Alan turned up unannounced at Ethan’s apartment when his son hadn’t answered his calls for a while. It also wouldn’t be the first time he found Ode and Ethan having dinner together one evening. After the three enjoyed their meal and E and O were clearing the table, Alan caught Ethan placing a kiss to Ode’s temple. Alan never brought it up to them, but he always knew they’d make a great match. 

Their first date after everyone finding out was on a trip to Providence. Alan invited them over for the day. They had a lovely family day and on the road home they stopped at the good Friendly’s for food, and a $5 film. The cinema across the street from Friendly’s was playing Singing In The Rain, and they figured why not. They’re here - what the hell!  

There first time was meticulously planned on Ode’s part, Ethan knew about her rule and figured there’d still be two months until they crossed that bridge. They’ve had a few sleepovers throughout their friendship/relationship with Ode taking the second bedroom. Only in the last few weeks has she started to like staying over more... and in bed with him. She psyched herself up for about two weeks, subtlety bringing candles and spare clothes and necessary toiletries. Upgrading the small amount of things she’d keep in a cupboard in the spare bathroom. So when they get home from dinner, while he’s making a nightcap, she says she’s going to get more comfortable. Ethan’s used to her immediately shedding her day attire for some yoga pants and tank now. But she comes out in a baby pink satin robe - a color she does not wear in all the years he’s known her - and he’s speechless. He raises a questioning brow. And all Ode does is give him a sultry smile. He follows her lead and tries very hard like a good boy not to get too over zealous and jump the gun. 

It’s all very slow and sensual - beautifully slow. They’ve kissed many times before but never like this. And every single touch felt like the first time - fingers grazing skin, eliciting goosebumps and tingles of electricity. Their hands always on the other, but no heady grabbing or bruises for tomorrow. Just swollen lips and love-filled eyes. 

It lasted well over an hour; neither sated nor wanting it to end. 

She’s conflicted when it does though, in regards of where to sleep. She knows it’s important to put space between them - doesn’t want to settle into comfort too early. But the way he’s holding her she doesn’t ever want to leave his embrace. All too soon she does. Because she has to pee and certainly needs a shower. 

“I’m going to shower.” 

“Okay.” He says as he gets up as well. He’s told her she could use his many times, there’s no point in arguing. 

Ten minutes after he hears the shower stop, he knocks on the bedroom door. 

“Yeah, come in!”

He stops in the doorway and just admires her as she braids her long hair. 

She turns and smiles at him. The admiration between them is ridiculously palpable. 

“Will you be staying in here?” he asks as he moves to close the distance.   

Her smile broadens. “Miss me already?” 

He takes her now idle hands, “Always. Since the moment you took a chance on me.” 

She leans up to delicately kiss the edge of his mouth. 

and the two make their way back to Ethan’s room. 

They get a house, eventually. The condo - which they also bought the adjoining apartment next door and combined into one big penthouse - is their main residency because it’s so close to work. They get a beach house outside the city with a grand piano and bi folding doors overlooking the water. All her most important scores are framed and they have music and books lined the walls floor to ceiling. She plays for as he reads from his chair close by, or she’ll treat him to one of his favorite pieces. Sometimes he’ll play the small bits he knows -- he’s forever trying to find the piece she played for him on her 30th birthday. Ode will never tell him. 

And in a weird way, in all his trials, he seems to be writing an ode to her.  

---

This was so long and I don’t care! Thank you so much, anon, please never stop 💞

[cristobalrios]

My Holo-Headcanons that I still need to turn into fics sometime and the original posts I made about them, A Compilation:

The Trouble With Emergency Holograms: La Sirena Tribble shenanigans, already started writing this one but has just been sitting in my WIPs for like a year.

Multiple Personalities: Some Sci-Fi reason the holos all have to temporarily be inside of Cris's head so they temporarily take over his body like That Episode With Data or That Episode With Seven, or kind of like That Other Episode With Seven and Doc although personally I'd prefer this to be an episode and not a fic, so we actually get to see Santi doing the rapidly-switching-between-personalities thing.

Holo Programs for Emergency Holos: Steward's recreational holo-program for the EHs where everyone gets to have their own dream job that's supposed to be not what they're programmed for, like an "if you could do anything other than your current job, what would it be" scenario. Emil is just... A doctor. Or is he? His hospital is actually a front for his secret spy base and no one knows it until Enoch spies on Emil and then the secret's out.

The Importance of Being Eddie: Rios pretends to be an Emergency Hologram that doesn't exist to get out of a conversation when he was Not in the mood for anything resembling social interaction; it was quick and easy and felt really good so he started using this excuse more, so he invents Eddie, the Emergency Departure Hologram. The Holos hear Rios doing this sometime and decide to help him out and have some fun of their own, so they take turns pretending to be this Eddie holo so people don't only see Eddie when they're looking for the captain and Eddie doesn't only leave the room to "find him" and never come back. And things... Get out of hand. Title named after the fact that this sounds suspiciously close to a variation of "Bunburying" as Algernon named it in The Importance of Being Earnest (I also love the fact that his name is Eddie, as named by @enigma-the-mysterious, specifically for the fact that it's reminiscent of Edward Hyde that this also... kind of resembles, if you squint, although the name came from "Emergency Departure Hologram" and was not, as far as I know, a literary allusion)

Hospitality: The origin of the Emergency Hospitality Holograms, an idea pitched to Doc when working on the Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package, by his friend and fellow Voyager veteran Neelix, after meeting another beloved self-aware hologram, Vic Fontaine. Not exactly a story about our Holos on La Sirena, but sort of an origin story for Steward, so related.

The KitKats and That Time Cris's Generosity Was Mistaken for Negligence: Working title. Two things were talked about here; a Cute Fluff story where Enoch gets to have Emil's KitKat because Emil doesn't like them, but there are Conditions, and; Rios handing some things out the the holos, and Enoch sneaks back in line seeing if he can get away with getting Two without Cris noticing, and when Cris does give him another without any comment, he is suddenly worried that Cris really didn't notice that one of the holos was there twice and he's slightly offended.

Holo-ween: The Holos have a tradition on Halloween; try to confuse Rios about which Holo is which. They switch it up every time, including one time all of them looking exactly like him with no other visual or auditory indications of differences.

Portal: The Holo Squad play Portal. That's it, that's the entire thing.

I Swear My Smart Devices Are Alive: A modern AU where the EHs are Cris's smart devices and Agnes is the cute IT Tech who comes over to fix them when their idiosyncrasies get on Cris's nerves enough.

Forgery: The Holos can mimic Cris's handwriting perfectly...

Collection: This one is actually post-Picard S1, or during. Elnor wants to learn about why people have... Stuff. Just, stuff, for no apparent purpose, that they seem very attached to (read: Cris and his mermaid statues). Steward tries his best to explain it to him and the Holos show Elnor their own collections and hobbies, and help him find hobbies of his own.

Diagnostics: Ian takes his duty as their equivalent of ""Doctor"" to his fellow Emergency Holograms very seriously, but in true Rios-fashion, neglects to take care of himself. This results in the actual EMH having to step in. @talvenhenki already did an absolutely wonderful fic based on this idea that I love in chapter 8 of Voyages of the Freighter La Sirena, but I might do a version of my own. Maybe it will take place not long before this one, when Emil (and possibly Agnes, as mentioned in that version above, so that's an idea) goes to Ian before Cris intervenes. Anyway, whether or not I ever actually write it, definitely go read that version!

Emergency Command Hologram: A theory I had pre-Stardust City Rag that started off as a joke and turned into "wait this would actually be fun if not in canon, at least as an AU" - I have subsequently decided that this is going to be a recurring nightmare of Rios's, that he finds out that the real him died and he's a holographic copy of himself as a modified ECH the holos have been using to fake still having a captain. That he actually died and the holos covered it up to avoid being deactivated permanently or changed by the ship's next owner. The cover up aspect, of course, goes "nicely" with Cris's trauma.

Steward and His Roombas: I really don't know where the original stuff is for this (the link to the post is broken now, I don't know where it went) but this was completely inspired by Stabby the Space Roomba about Steward and his ship cleaning bots and Emmet taping a knife to one of them like the infamous Stabby that inspired the wonderful, beautiful fic @procrastinatorproject wrote and gifted to me, A Night at the Opera. Please go read it if you haven't (and reread it if you have). And listen to the podfic version @thelaithlyworm is making, here. They're both wonderful!

Meta that aren't fic ideas but are interesting/important observations and/or headcanons:

An Exploration of Emmet's Tattoos: Pictures, identification of whatever I could identify, and discussion of all of Emmet's various tattoos that we have been able to see on screen so far.

Connection: The holograms in the Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package are interconnected with each other and the ship in intricate ways. This post itself is mostly a meta on the holos instead of an actual plot bunny but there's definitely stuff that can be done with these concepts.

Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package: I have character bios for each of the holograms on my carrd that also has some headcanons about the EHBIPs as well. Carrd Home Page; Emil; Enoch; Steward; Emmet; Ian.

Also, these ideas are open for other people to steal (I would love but it's not required to credit me and possibly any others who helped make these ideas, as shown on their original posts, since a lot of them were definitely a collaborative thing).

If you do use any of these ideas, feel free to reblog this with the link to it!!

[darkpoisonouslove]

Sparks of Life Opera Edition

I am still not over Singing a New Tune so I am going to recap for you the experience of writing that fic because there were many interesting moments over the course of those three days. Lemme start from the beginning.

- So I’m writing a fic that mostly focuses on sexual stuff but it is also mainly happening in an opera so my first order of business is to figure out what that opera is. Both the building itself and the show they’ll be watching. Because that is of utmost importance.

- I have already mentioned that SoL is located in New York so I looked up New York operas. I do not vibe with research most of the time but I vibe even less with having to come up with names for any kind of thing so research was definitely the choice here.

- I somehow get results about operas that are in the other end of the USA. That was not great. I get to the Metropolitan Opera House at last (which I might have known existed if I cared about opera in any way, shape or form) which is great! I am so close to starting the fic! Just need to figure out what opera they’re watching. Because I need that for reasons.

- I end up downloading a PDF with the seatings inside the Met Opera so that I can figure out where the hell they will be seating. But I leave that for later. I look through the actual plays that they’re having while absolutely failing with the navigation of their site. I find a show that catches my eye. It’s called The Magic Flute. I have zero idea what it’s about so I read the Wikipedia summary just to be aware. It mentions that a character has a moment when he’s singing about his search for a wife and I think ���Perfect! Foreshadowing!” (since this is set pretty early on in Griffin and Valtor’s relationship).

- I decide to look up the opera and see if I can find a part of it on youtube to figure out how it will sound. I am pretty sold on it already because of the summary I read and also because it implies there is magic as a subject in it which would call back to canon. Still, I look it up. I find a full version of it on the internet with English subtitles... It is 2 hours and 35 minutes:

- “Wow, okay... that’s a bit much. But hey, it has got subtitles in English. Maybe I’d actually watch that... once I’m done with the fic. I’m just gonna listen to a little bit while I finish my research, though, so I can have an idea of what it sounds like.”

- Now it’s time to open the engagement fic - Enough to Be Yours - because I don’t remember what year they got engaged in and I need that to reverse engineer the year in which this fic is taking place so that I can make sure that The Magic Flute was being performed back then. I don’t have an year stated in the engagement fic, though. I have a date - 9th October which is Friday and that means the year is 2015. Great! So I need to figure out if they were performing The Magic Flute back in 2010. Great.

- That takes a shit ton of time and nerves as it turns out. I spent over 4 hours just researching the logistics for this fic and a lot of that was unnecessary but I’m getting ahead of myself.

- I cannot find out whether they were performing the Magic Flute in 2010. I get results of it being broadcast in English (for the first time, I believe) in 2012 but that is way too late for this fic to be happening. Also, they are speaking of a broadcast which just doesn’t work for me. So I am having a hard time over here.

- I find a list of the new titles in 2011 but nothing mentions The Magic Flute as far as I can see.

- I am now considering switching to another opera. I see an opera that is based on events from The Song of the Nibelungs (I cannot be assed to go back and check what the actual title was). That catches my eye because I have read a book that was titled The Ring of the Nibelungs, I believe, and I kinda remember stuff from it... which is what makes me hesitate because that was a big tragedy.

- Meanwhile, I have stumbled upon a trailer for The Magic Flute:

MY GOD IS THAT BEAUTIFUL! THOSE PROPS ARE FUCKING GORGEOUS! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU GET TO GO AND SEE THAT LIVE? THAT IS NUTS! (Also, when I mentioned paper birds (I think they are) in the fic, I meant the ones shown in 0:13, not the big one in the beginning but HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT THING????? HOW IS THAT REAL?!?!?!?! IT IS SO FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN’T. I AM DYING. THIS IS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL.)

- I somehow happen upon an old archive of the opera (idk how I did that but I bookmarked it in case I’ll need it again) that has information about plays going back as far as the year 1900. This is nuts! I am in too deep but I can’t pull myself away. I’ve gotten this far, I will see it through.

- I search for keyword “flute” and I get results. Some of them are pretty old but I finally find what I need. Performances of the Magic Flute in 2010! Bingo!

-  ...Oh, wait, they’re all around Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Hmm... when will it be okay for them to go? I mean, Valtor has been established to have zero free time around that time of the year and I can’t see them going on the 24th or the 31st... Oh, those are matinees. Definitely no! I need them to go in the evening. And some of these are broadcasts which doesn’t work for me either.

- I looked up earlier years as well. I considered another opera again. I decided to switch up the timeline a little. It makes sense if it’s in 2009. I think they had spring performances of The Magic Flute then. Or was it 2008? Anyway, I finally settle on an early April date in 2009 (I think). Now that that’s settled, let’s go back to the seats.

- First I need to figure out what floor (let’s say) of the opera they’re on. I was thinking of the last one first (family circle) but the boxes (I figure those seats will be safest for their activities) look like this:

which isn’t vibing with me because they would be in the front row and it seems more visible. So I relocate to the previous floor (balcony) that looks like this:

That works a little better although there’s the danger of having more people in their box. But they’re sitting in box 14, seats 5 (Griffin) and 6 (Valtor) (where the arrow is pointing) and there’s only one man in seat 4 in front of them. So that is the best I can do.

- Wow, all that’s finally figured out. I decide to do all the rest of the research up front in order to be able to just write after that and not stop for another 4 hours. More on those other things later BUT I get to the part where I need to pick a vibrator and... well, I done fucked up.

- First thing that comes up for a remote controlled vibrator is Lush, of course. And I am immediately sold because it has a sound activated setting which Valtor will definitely love to utilize while in the opera.

BUT

Lush 2 (which is the first one to have the sound activated setting, I believe) came out in 2018. Even if we accept that Lush also has it, that came out in 2015. My fic is set in 2009. Searching for 2009 vibrators literally went no where so in the end I decided that the SoL verse is actually set in a parallel universe where time is a little warped so the Lush 2 is out in 2009. Plus, that way there isn’t going to be a pandemic in future installments. Overall, that works. Except that I needn’t have been so thorough with my opera research beforehand. Oh, well. It’s finally time to start writing.

- How do you write? How do you start a fic? One word in front of the other? Oh, okay, never mind. Lipstick is a girl’s best friend. Let’s start from there. And a kiss that leads to the discussion of lipstick... Damn, I forgot to spend one more hour on researching what kind of lipstick Griffin would have worn. Shame! You don’t get that detail now. I believe I didn’t even mention a shade.

- Oh, wait. Need for his breath to taste like something. Hmm, let’s see. Tonic water? Yeah, that sounds about right. Never mind that he should have probably drunk it right before getting out of the car to kiss her if it was still lingering on his breath. I mean, that’s not impossible. Just improbable.

- He’s also wearing cologne, right? Gotta research that too. How else would I get this:

and zero idea what it actually smells like despite the description. Also, did not check if that was a thing in 2009 but the story now exists in a vacuum so who cares.

- Apparently, Griffin doesn’t own any golden bracelets even though she does have a golden necklace? Or she could have a golden bracelet, just not one she likes for the current situation? Anyway, I wanted to mention Ediltrude as well because the twins always go together and that was the best I came up with. (That said, I didn’t need to put the mentions of them one sentence apart.)

- My god, I used a semicolon! That feels illegal. I sure hope I used that bitch correctly.

- Okay, I absolutely love all the banter and just flow in the car. Idk how I did that since it’s such a constricted space but I am really proud of it. However, the logistics were sometimes hard to logic my way through. I mean, Valtor doesn’t get to look at her a lot and I had to employ a red traffic light to give him the chance to do so.

- I hit a wall about three paragraphs later. Things started going in a weird direction. I was considering even deleting the last two lines but then I managed to get back on track thanks to having figured out how they met and I decided to write a little bit about that without spoiling it (that will be a fic of its own some day). Suffice it to say it was a meet-very-ugly. But it bailed me out. Also, they got over it so it’s all good.

- And now... that paragraph. You know which one I’m talking about. It stands out with the locations I’ve given. That paragraph required 30 minutes of looking at Google Earth to figure it out and I still nearly got it wrong. At that point it occurred to me that they’ll need a place to park. I mean, idk how parking is in NYC but it’s probably not the way it is in Bulgaria especially on small neighborhood streets where it’s just... park wherever (even in front of a garage if you’re brazen enough and don’t fear having your tires slashed). So first, I was going to have them coming down Tenth Avenue and passing by the backside of the Opera which is not ideal for me because I needed Griffin to figure out they’re going to the opera so that they can have the following dialogue. But there is the New York Public Library of the Performing Arts right next door so I figure Griffin will recognize the area if it’s next to a library. And I have them almost at the garage but... that’s not looking right. This garage is on 65th Street and mine is on 62nd... I have been looking at the wrong garage for the past hour. Now that I have caught that mistake, things get easier. They just drive right past the facade of the opera, take a right turn and then enter the garage. Easy peasy. For whoever’s actually paying attention to the map.

- They’re in the garage now and I have to write another kiss. Shoot! I do not vibe with writing kisses. Writing sex scenes is much easier. But I’ll try my best because this is a little bit necessary if we’re dealing with an insertion of a vibrator in a public bathroom one minute from now. (Again, logistics!) I actually went back to add in a little discomfort during the kiss (but not too much because they’re consumed with each other anyway and probably missed something) just to make it more realistic. They can’t be comfortable in the car. Also, you have got to love how I never even thought of what make the car is. But I did stop to research the tinting of the car windows.

- Now this is extremely funny but I would have had zero idea that there are different laws about how tinted your car windows can be in the USA if I hadn’t read a very extensive critique of Fifty Shades (whichever part it was that had that info). So I look up the VLT for New York and it says 70%. Great! Then it won’t be that visible through the windows what they’re doing inside. Oh, wait! VLT means Visible Light Transmission aka 70% of the light should be passing through the window. Aka it is only tinted on 30%. This much:

That’s practically nothing. You can see everything through it. Welp, then someone’s gonna see, I guess.

- Can’t believe I didn’t stop to look up clutches either. (Lmao, I was calling it a purse instead of a clutch at first even though I definitely meant a clutch. And then I remembered that clutch existed as a word. Who would’ve thought?) It’s baffling trying to figure out why my brain was prioritizing some details over others and I just genuinely have no idea what was going on.

- Griffin is blushing a lot in this. Can you tell I have no idea how else to convey Valtor giving her feelings through body language?

- I first envisioned the box being opened by the hair pin by turning it like a key. Only later did I realize that that wouldn’t be possible because the pin has two parts (whatever they’re called) and that would make turning it impossible unless all of the base fits into one hole in the lid of the box. So I had to adapt my vision to using the extensions at the ends of the hair pin like a hook that pulls the lid up once it’s clicked free. I have zero idea how that would be done but I’m sure it can be done. So yeah, anyway, the pin looks like this but with attachments at the ends to open the box:

- I might have gone a little overboard with Griffin’s reaction to having the vibrator inside her. I might have made her a bit too embarrassed but I still think that she simply wouldn’t appreciate someone knowing about what she considers a private experience (despite the very public setting).

- And I am being overly specific again with the seats but I worked for that information so you’re getting it against your will!

- Speaking of, that man in their box was pretty ignored throughout the fic. But then again Griffin wasn’t overflowing with lucidity. She is sure to have missed... A Lot, actually.

- My apologies (once again) to @her-majesty-wears-jeans​ for not letting Griffin punch Valtor in the face for the terrible pun he was about to make but I thought that that would ruin the mood so I had to skip it.

- I might have imagined things a little differently but then consent factored in and I had to change things up so that Griffin is clearly on board with everything. I hope it came through that way at least. She is on board even if she is very, very frustrated. She would never throw the bet just because it’s difficult for her. Though, I’m taking note for future fics of maybe being a little bit more explicit about the enjoyment of all parties involved. I just couldn’t really think of a way to convey it better back then and I am coming up with several ideas now and I will try to keep them in mind for future fics.

- I keep going back and forth on just how far into their relationship this is. Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough time for them to get this familiar with each other and sometimes it feels like too much for them to still be skirting their feelings for each other like that. Will update when I make up my mind about how long exactly it has been.

- In retrospect, probably should have picked up an opera that people would be less likely to bring their children to (as brought to my attention by @her-majesty-wears-jeans​). I apologize for this. Did not consider it at all.

- A wild tangent about Griffin’s sexual experiences before Valtor popped up (for the second time now). This is giving me thoughts and I am not even sure if I’ll manage to get them all out in the bachelorette party fic. Oh, no, I am getting ideas again.

- God, I had to mention those paper birds because I adore them. Also, needed to do a time skip somehow (sure hope they don’t show up at the very end or the very beginning).

- So there are some things about the whole thing with the suit jacket that if you squint, you’ll miss the very far-fetched and convoluted ways in which I could make them make sense but again, it isn’t impossible to make them operate according to logic so good enough.

- And now for the dress:

I thought it would be reasonable for Griffin to own something like that. It doesn’t look overly expensive or dramatic.

- I swear that most of the 2% angst was an accident. Griffin was supposed to say the “You paid how much for tickets exactly just so you could fool around?” line but the following few paragraphs sprang on me out of nowhere. That was where I left it off the first day I was working on it and I wasn’t sure how to continue it. Then the angst happened.

- I do not believe the retaliation part was planned but would it really be a Griffin x Valtor story if something like that hadn’t happened? XD

- “reverberated”, “multitudinous” and “unobtainable” are probably not words that Griffin’s muddled mind would go to in that precise moment but everything else I came up with for them just did not sound right.

- I completely forgot the word for neckline and was so mad at myself for that but, luckily, I managed to remember it before posting the fic. I believe the original read “he slipped a finger under the fabric of her dress, running it over the top of her breast” which is not incorrect but just not precise enough for my liking.

- Sure hope the shortened version of the opera did not cut out the ending musical sequence. But that seems unlikely.

- The idea was running overly long in my head by having them going back to the penthouse so that I could have the scene where he picked her up so I decided to move things around and have him carry her bridal style on their way from the opera to the car. It’s not like she didn’t earn it.

- Pretty sure I had planned something a little different for the last several lines of dialogue but I couldn’t remember what so we get this. Which isn’t a disadvantage. I mean, Griffin is already thinking of marrying him. XD (That’s probably a bit of a stretch at the current status of their relationship but then again, she was thinking of a wedding, not necessarily of their wedding even though I’m clearly a little romance gargoyle that meant exactly that.)

- Originally, Valtor was supposed to floor the brakes while they were out in the NYC traffic but then I decided that doing it while still in the garage with only one car behind them and both vehicles driving at a very slow speed was a lot safer so I switched to that. It also saved me writing more words which was appreciated. I thought this fic would be a bit shorter.

- I was at a loss for how many orgasms Griffin should want from him but then the commitment line happened and that was all avoided.

[bookaddict24-7]

I said at the beginning of the year that I would share my reviews more on my blog instead of just on Instagram and Goodreads. I’ve been reading a lot so far this year, so my reviews will be delayed on here. I’ll hopefully post five (mini-ish) reviews per week!

Friend me on Goodreads here to read my reviews in real-time!

Since I’ve already posted the first ten reviews on here earlier in the year, we’ll start with reviews for books 11-15. Let me know if you’d like me to re-post the earlier reviews in this format! 

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11. The Call by Peadar O’Guilin--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I’ve had the ARC for this book on my shelves for YEARS. I’m happy that I also have an ARC of the sequel because this book was a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be. This is such a unique fey story. The idea that in a dystopian world, teenagers are essentially stolen for three minutes to be hunted down and tortured is something I’ve never seen before. I enjoyed the unique premise AND also the other story of our MC having to survive not just the imminent call, but her horrible classmates. My attention was captured from the very beginning and I can’t wait to read the sequel!”

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12. Waiting for Tom Hanks by Kerry Winfrey--⭐️⭐️.5

“I remember when I first heard about this book, I was excited. I loved the concept and am a huge fan of romcoms. And then I read this book. The MC uses her love of romcoms as the base for her ideal man to a toxic level, even going as far as just being impossibly naive. Her idealization went from adoration to obsession. It was worrying and the real MVP is her best friend for calling her out on it. In this book, her best friend was the best character. She was also a massive bitch. She was just so rude for no apparent reason other than a nickname given to her by the love interest. The poor guy couldn’t even breathe without her snapping at him. Sure, it’s supposed to be this cute enemy (not enemies because she was the one that hated him) to lovers, but there’s a line between dislike and pure rudeness. Also, that conclusion. There’s a moment near the end after the big climax happens (and it wasn’t even a big event, it was pretty tame) where she is again her unreasonably rude self even though there is no reason really for his sudden turnaround. Also, hey, the spice? I KNEW it would be tame af. I just KNEW it. These books should come with a warning, aha. Anyway, I wasn’t a big fan, but others might like it—it just wasn’t for me.”

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13. To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Okay, first thing I’ll say is that this book is COOL. The concept and the action scenes are really neat—it’s like reading a super sci-fi version of Venom, aha. The second thing I’ll say is that this book was way longer than it needed to be. This could have easily been multiple books. Props to Paolini for not leaving his readers with huge cliffhangers, but this was just so long. It almost felt episodic, like each part of the book was another problem they had to solve. I did like the arc of the MC and how she had to not only learn to live her new life, but had to work through her grief. She was a powerful character who was ultimately flawed enough that it made her even better. The cast of characters around her all had so much life and loved their interactions, especially Gregorovich. I listened to the audiobook alongside the physical book (because this is a SUPER intimidating book) and the way the voice actor said his name made me smile every time. That computer, in my opinion, was the best comic relief in this book. He also made me think of AIDAN a lot (from ILLUMINAE). The last bit of the book is just 100+ pages of glossaries and timelines and I’ll be honest, by that point I was exhausted because again, LONG book. I’d recommend this to anyone who like space operas and pretty cool action scenes. Also, if you’re a fan of Marvel, this one felt like it in many aspects.”

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14. The Reptile Room (A Series of Unfortunate Events #2) by Lemony Snicket--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Alright, this one was better than the first book! These poor children just can’t catch a break and seeing as this is only book two, I am both nervous and excited to see what other problems they face!”

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15. A Rogue of One’s Own (A League of Extraordinary Women #2) by Evie Dunmore--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I’m so glad this book was as fun as it was! I’m always so worried when I read a sequel or companion to a book I really enjoyed. But this book was fun, sexy, and had the beautiful trope of enemies to lovers. Much like with the first book, I thought it interesting to see what the suffragettes went through—especially while falling in love. This book raised the important question of what to do when you are fighting for something that seemingly (on the surface) opposes what you’re currently experiencing. Not only did this book have a great conclusion to that question, but the author also offered some more insight in the author’s note. This isn’t a five star read for me because the characters were so frustrating. I do love that they grew and learned from their mistakes, but sometimes I wanted to throttle them. Anyway, this is a great series if you’ve recently watched Bridgerton and want more historical romance with humour and sexy times!”

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Have you read any of these? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

[introvertguide]

Star Wars: The Franchise

Back in the mid 70s around Modesto, California, it is doubtful that George Lucas could have imagined that his idea for a space opera would become the second highest grossing movie franchise of all time. There has been some questionable content, however, since the groundbreaking original, and the returns have not been as great. There were also some one-offs that a lot of the younger fans might not be aware of. For my own sanity and organization, here is a listing of all feature length movies in the franchise:

Star Wars IV: A New Hope (1977) -

Definitely the most successful film (heck, one of the most successful films of all time) that made almost a billion dollars at the box office worldwide...in the 80s. Amazing. The story mimics the hero's journey as described by Joseph Campbell, giving it basically the most satisfying story imaginable. Nobody except for friend of George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, thought it would be as successful as it was. This kind of popularity meant there was going to be some sequels and, since George Lucas was the man behind the whole thing, only one man was about to get tasked with future success.

Star Wars Holiday Special (1978) -

This was a TV movie that was made to cash in on the massive popularity of the first movie while the second one was in production. It is terrible. I generally try to hold back judgement and point out subjective opinions, but I think I can say that this made-for-TV movie is objectively bad. It is the equivalent of a variety show, a format which was popular at the time, and it was awful. It is widely considered to be one of the worst visual productions of all time. Just to give a hint of its awfulness, the movie follows the adventures of Chewbacca's Wookie family and they only speak in growls with no interpretation or subtitles. Laughably awful.

The Empire Strikes Back (1980) -

Arguably the best of the films as far as story and plot, this film was actually directed by Irvin Kershner with a George Lucas story adapted to the screen by Lawrence Kasdan. This film is legitimately fantastic and not just new and fun. It is so well written and directed with the famous reveal between Luke and Darth Vader. It also is incredibly downbeat at the end that perfectly sets up the next film. I personally think this is the best example of fine film in the franchise, although it doesn't have as much big action and no giant space laser. Well worth watching and makes the third film a must see.

Return of the Jedi (1983) -

Well, not as good as the first two, but still pretty darn good. This film introduced the Ewoks and the Endor moon battle. Many fans thought that the introduction of living teddy bears was a mistake that distract from the story. What really made the film, apparently, was the whole sequence at the beginning that takes place at Jabba the Hut's palace and involves Princess Leia in a metal bikini. We also find out that Luke and Leia are twins, so that kiss in the second film suddenly becomes kind of awkward. This becomes kind of a theme from here on out: should we disavow canon or put in throwaway lines and scenes to cover things that were mentioned in previous movies. It plagues the prequels.

The Ewok Adventure (1984) -

I get a lot of garbage about it, but I love these movies because I grew up with them. They are not that great and the copy that I saw over and over had ads from the early 80s throughout. Heavy nostalgia. Also, some of the Ewoks were played by established actors from what is now called Episode VI, Warwick Davis as Wicket and Tony Cox as Widdle. It was a lot of fun, but definitely a higher budgeted TV movie. It did become so successful that it got a theater release as Caravan of Courage: An Ewok Adventure. This naming style stuck around for the spin off films that were made in the late 2010s.

Ewoks: The Battle for Endor (1985) -

Hot dang, they made a second one with Wilford Brimley! Both of the Ewok films were thought up by George Lucas and sold to ABC. Both films were also given special Emmy awards for special effects. I can't fault either Ewok film as far as visuals since both got the ILM treatment. I have stated that I liked both of these movies more than some of the prequels, and I stand by that.

The Phantom Menace (1999) -

The next three films followed the first three episodes in the Star Wars saga and are now generally known as the prequels. They are also pretty widely hated. One reason for that was the introduction of young Anikan Skywalker (eventual Darth Vader) and his growing attachment to Lord Palpatine (Darth Sidious). The problem with the prequels is that it was a path leading to a result that had been established over 20 years ago in the first film. They also introduced a character named Jar-Jar Binks who was just awful. There was a great pod racing scene and an epic Sith vs. Jedi battle that really were the highlights of the film. The music was also pretty epic, but the film was otherwise not that great. It was completely made under the helm of George Lucas and fans were suddenly starting to wonder if he was the genius they had thought him to be. What I consider to be the best YouTube deep dive movie review of all time, a group called Red Letter Media made a seven part review that explains why the movie was such a problem. You can watch the first part and it will auto load all seven here:

(1) Star Wars: The Phantom Menace Review (Part 1 of 7) - YouTube

Attack of the Clones (2002) -

Alright, here is where things really start to go down hill. There is a fine actor by the name of Hayden Christiansen that is just awful in this film. He is given nothing to do for the most part. He is supposed to be this amazing Jedi general, but he spends most of his time walking around speaking in a very monotone voice. He does have some fun piloting scenes, but he is written as such a whiny brat. There are two epic battles (the coliseum and Dooku vs. Yoda) and we get to see a bounty hunter in action. It does seem like a lot of fan service glued together by boring politics and horrifically bad acting.

Revenge of the Sith (2005) -

This is widely considered the worst of the prequel movies and generally laughable at some points. There is supposed to be an epic lava battle at the end, but it is just a bunch of screaming about a failed bromance. We get to see the end of the characters in the prequel and set up the original movies...that were now almost 30 years old. It was unsatisfying and not even slightly worth the wait. It was at this time that George Lucas said that there would never be a seventh episode that would follow the original trilogy.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) -

There was a very compelling series of Star Wars shorts in 2003 made by Genndy Tartakovsky that did very well. George Lucas saw this and decided that a lot of the most interesting Star Wars events had occurred during the time between the prequels and the original series. Lucasfilm put out an animated movie to test the waters and it was so successful that 7 seasons of great animated adventures were made to show the epic battles that were supposed to take place between the second and third episode. I honestly believe that this was the very best space action of the entire franchise.

The Force Awakens (2015) -

George Lucas sold the Star Wars franchise over to Disney and fans got a new movie that was never supposed to happen. Once Disney came on board, the brand became much more prolific. Until the pandemic, there were plans to put out a Star Wars movie every year for a decade. The first was episode seven and was made by J.J. Abrams. It was similar to the first film (episode IV) in so many ways that fans started to think it was just a remake. It even had a lot of the characters from the original trilogy. It was much better received by fans following the prequels and introduced a storyline that was not already spoiled by previous movies. There was a lot of unnecessary fan service for those who loved the original trilogy. This makes since because it involved Lawrence Kasdan, who helped with the screenplay for episode five and six from the original trilogy.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) -

A full big budget release of a Star Wars movie that wasn't one of the episodes was an interesting idea. It was an entire movie to explain a throwaway line from the original 1977 movie. I lot of people died to get some plans for the big weapon in the first film and people wanted to know exactly how that happened. Actually they didn't. But Disney thought it was a good idea and it seemed like it would make a lot of money (it did). It gave the producers a chance to make a movie with new characters and only mentions of the famous story (this was important because the other actors where making the next episode).

The Last Jedi (2017) -

This was an interesting change of pace from the rest of the films because it seemed to drop the idea of the "chosen one" and say that anyone could be a Jedi. It is basically one giant escape story and is closer to Mad Max in space than it is to the other Star Wars films. It was given in full by Disney to Rian Johnson and it shows. This was the first episode film that had nothing in common with any of the production group from the original trilogy. No Kasdan, no Kirschner, no Lucas, all Disney. It was not very well received.

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018) -

The worst performing of any of the Star Wars live action feature length films, this was the story of Han Solo. That's it. There is not a lot of history about the character and he is so cool, fans needed to have a stand alone movie about his youth. That's a lie, Disney wanted a movie to come out between episode eight and nine. This was the best that the suits could come up with and it definitely made money, but it is lame.

The Rise of Skywalker (2019) -

Well, the movie completely helmed by Rian Johnson was not popular enough so there was a total retcon situation and this film basically picked up where episode seven left off. It was the same team from episode seven (since that film was so much more popular) and they made a final film that wraps up with a bow. Sort of. There was definitely room in the film world for more Star Wars movies to be made (it is owned by Disney) and I really don't believe it is finished as a franchise.

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Just in case there are people who were nervous that this was the end of the franchise, there is currently a stand alone film called Rogue Squadron that is supposed to come out in 2023. Thank goodness. There was also the popular Mandalorian series on Disney +. But the franchise has been making huge films for almost 45 years now, so maybe it is time to stop. We have the MCU that has made almost twice as much money as the Star Wars universe, so most movie goers have picked their setting that they want to see. Maybe there could be a crossover (I am kidding, please no) and it would be the most watched film of all time.

[featheredtrex]

Matthew Stower on EU dark side vs Lucas-canon dark side

https://www.theforce.net/jedicouncil/interview/mattstover.asp

Interviewer: Can you discuss a little about the Force as it is described in Traitor? Where did the revelation about the Dark Side come from? How does it impact the Star Wars Universe?

I've often been a little bit bothered by the "deification" of the Force in the EU. The Force is not God -- it's not something "out there," a unitary entity with its own will and intention. It's right here. A Jedi is part of it -- and so is everything else. Its "will" (to use an inadequate word) is expressed in existence itself.

Stower didn’t pay attention to the fact that the Force is indeed “God” in the sense that it is a “metaphor for God” and the “greater mystery” as George Lucas put it “and God is essentially unknowable.” Lucas explained his views on life, God and spirit in 1999, saying, he believes in a collective spirit, life force and consciousness, both immanent and transcendent. This is very much the Force, a metaphor for his views on God, a reservoir, unified reality to life, what was said to be more pronounced in Buddhism. Thus, despite Stower is right in that the Force is not God in the Western sense, but it is in the Eastern sense.

And I don't see that there's any revelation about the dark side, either. When Luke is about to enter "The Cave of the Dark Side" on Dagobah, he asks Yoda what's in there. Yoda replies (if memory serves): "Only what you bring with you." That's a long way from anything resembling a Dark-Side-is-the-Devil kind of perspective; it was always clear to me that it wasn't intended to be a supernatural force of evil.

Stower did remember correctly and he is absolutely right. One should notice that Stower just said, he spotted a severe contradiction between George Lucas’ Star Wars and the Expanded Universe.

I'd like to quote here from something I wrote to one of the prominent members of the Lit Forum who was somewhat troubled by Vergere's teachings about the Force. He goes by the handle JediMasterAaron, and he asked me some pretty penetrating questions, that I think go right to the heart of this theme. This was part of my answer:

"It can be argued that Yoda trained Luke the way he did specifically to defeat the Emperor -- NOT because that's what JK were in the Old Republic. In fact, we now know that Luke would scarely qualify as a Padawan by Old Republic standards.

From my point of view, what Vergere teaches Jacen to become is far closer to what the Jedi are SUPPOSED to embody. Even Luke, remember, doesn't end up DESTROYING the Bad Guys -- instead he allows his mere presence to "save" the one who can be saved, and destroy the one who can't. (By my recollection, anyway -- it's been a few years since I saw RotJ.)

A war of Good v. Evil is better in concept than in execution. The division of reality into Good and Evil is a disease of modern civilization -- it's even infected our secular politics. It's okay for our armed forces to kill innocent civilians in Afghanistan, because we're "rooting out the Evil." From bin Laden's point of view, it's okay to kill innocent civilians in the USA (and elsewhere) for EXACTLY THE SAME REASON.

It is the responsibility of those who CAN look deeper to do so. I say: by the end of TRAITOR, Jacen is a better Jedi than he has ever been, because he has learned to LOOK DEEPER... I think SW is more about dealing with the darkness in your own heart -- Luke had to do that, in order to face Vader and the Emperor; and then instead of killing Vader he could lead him back toward the light.

I should also point out that "the Force is One." The darkness inside is reflected outside, and vice versa. What Vergere is really teaching Jacen is to seek truth within, because it will reflect truth without. To trust his feelings, you might say..."

That about sums it up.

Stower’s position on Yoda is not entirely clear, however, it’s important to notice that Vergere’s philosophy is the mainstream Jedi philosophy in George Lucas’ works: dark side is one’s own anger, fear, aggression, hate. Also, Luke acts in accordance with Yoda’s teachings in Return of the Jedi, not against it:

“There are already people sending me letters saying Jedi don’t take revenge; it’s not in their nature; it’s just not the way they are. Also, obviously, a Jedi can’t kill for the sake of killing. The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him. This is the state of affairs that Yoda should refer to. And then Luke says, “I don’t think he’ll kill me because he could have killed me last time and he didn’t; I think there is good in him and I can’t kill him.” (Lucas to Kasdan 1981 IN: Making of Return of the Jedi by Rinzler, 2013)

The impact of Vergere's perspective... well, that depends on the other writers. I can't really say. We'll see where they go with it. I'll only say this: the Expanded Universe is a living thing. Like other living things, it must either grow (learn, adapt, change) or die. Fans grow up. Star Wars can grow with them. There'll always be room for Ewoks and Young Jedi Knights. There'll always be room for the headlong happy-go-lucky space-opera of Daley's Han Solo trilogy. The Expanded Universe can also offer stories for fans who want to move into a more challenging realm. It's a big place. And it's still getting bigger.

You might notice that Stower explicitly said the fate of his contribution to the Expanded Universe will depend on “other writers” not George Lucas and his vision.

(Around 2002)