#Are they too short? Is my quality really bad? do I not post frequently enough? Am I problematic or something? What the fuck is wrong???

[negativepeanuthoarder]

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[mondaymelon]

hush. (yandere!childe x gn!reader)

warnings! this series contains yandere implications, mentions of murder, kidnapping, stalking, and blackmail usage. there will be pov swaps that are marked by symbols!!

(for more information please check my masterlist here)

part 1 here! ←

(a/n) this post contains triggering topics and generally dark themes. please read at your own risk. ^^ this is the second part in the yandere childe series!! requests are closed, sorry ✩

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

He had let you go once. It had been a foolish mistake. And since then he vowed to never do so again.

✾✽✾✽

Work in Inazuma had gone... interestingly. The mere idea of having a puppet run the nation, at least that was what the fatui files entailed, was intriguing in and of itself. The culture was just so different and the scenery so stunningly vibrant compared to the bleak snowy tundras of Shneznaya. Yet, Shneznaya still felt so familiar and, well, homely.

On the topic of Shneznaya, or more specifically, Tartaglia, you often thought about him. While the two of you frequently exchanged letters, it was a painstakingly slow process and was in no way an ample replacement of actually being able to be with him. The aching in your heart subsided each time you received a good-spirited Tartaglia's letter, but it just wasn't the same.

Was it selfish of you to wish he felt that way too?

But there was no time dwelling on strange thoughts like those. Work in Inazuma had been extensive. In came as a surprise that you would be working with Signora, another one of the Fatui Harbingers. Still, you supposed it was foolish of you to hope that sending just one general to the nation was enough to end all of the fatui's problems regarding Inazuma... still, you were slightly disappointed.

But that was okay, since Signora treated you nicely. She wasn't as close to you as Childe, not by a far margin, but while she did have a cold exterior, she was a lot more sweet on the inside than you had expected.

However, you had a feeling that if you said that aloud to her, she would certainly not be pleased, so you kept all those feelings to yourself. Nevertheless, there was never a day where you were bored, so all in all, you had it okay.

If only you knew what Tartaglia was facing, halfway across the continent in a different nation.

༘⋆♡⊹。°˖➴

I miss them.

I want to see them. Their smile, their laugh.

I want to talk to them and laugh at their jokes.

Those were the thoughts that ran through the male's head as he stared down at the device he had commissioned from Fontaine wearily. They had said that if would be undetectable, and all he had to do was somehow install this onto you or one of your belongings and then he'd be able to hear everything.

In short, it was a listening device. And it had been bought at no cheap price at all, considering it was high-quality and built for long-distance transmissions. But if it really did work the way he had intended to, then it would be all worth it.

And so, he lovingly sent one of his best guards, whom he knew would never betray him. But it was never a bad thing to be cautious, so he made sure to make him sign a contract - if he failed, it would be punishable worse than death.

That way, his little darling would be kept oblivious to it all!

And it did work.

About a month later, as the soldier returned, he relayed his extensive report the harbinger, but really the only words he heard were, "They didn't notice a thing."

Perfect.

And so he waited for a perfect time, when he knew you would be asleep. Watching the round moon rise up from the craggy horizon, he laughed to himself as his voice cracked in a manic manner. "I'm keeping my promise, aren't I, love? I'm taking care of you in my own special way!"

The sound of your breathing and soft snores were transmitted into the device, along with the ambience of the inazuman rain in the background, and the man let a smile spread across his face at the sound.

"Soon. Soon I'll be back and I'll never have to worry about you leaving my side again."

– end of part 2.

prev. masterlist. next.

[albertonykus]

You Wouldn’t Really Know Shizuka from the Doraemon Movies

If you’ve experienced enough Doraemon media, you’ve probably noticed that the movies tend to emphasize the main characters’ positive qualities, which often paints a very different picture of them from the regular manga and episodes. The contrast is especially noticeable with Nobita, Gian, and Suneo, who in the mainline series are frequently cast as anti-role models to show children how not to behave.

Shizuka, on the other hand, is already kind and morally upstanding by default, so it’s only natural for the movies to continue portraying her that way. That makes Shizuka pretty much the same between the regular series and the movies, right? I would argue not exactly, and unfortunately her character in the movies suffers for it.

It’s not that the movies never characterize Shizuka well. She’s had very important roles in some of them: in my reviews, I counted at least eight films in which her actions are critical to resolving the plot. Certainly one can gather from the movies that she’s compassionate, quick-witted, brave, and adventurous, and all of these things are true about Shizuka in the mainline series.

However... if you only watched the movies, you might not realize that Shizuka also enjoys messing with other people for fun...

... or can be very blunt towards her friends...

... or participates in schemes to get even with people who have wronged her...

[A short time later...]

... or becomes disproportionately violent when she’s upset (“Janie” being one of her dolls)...

... or lies to get out of things she doesn’t want to do.

(If any of this seems like it conflicts with Shizuka’s usual characterization, I don’t think it does. When I was Shizuka’s age, I was also a “good kid” who stayed out of trouble and got along with most of my peers, and I still did every one of these things.)

From the movies alone, you might even miss that Shizuka is supposed to be bad at playing the violin, which is her one “flaw” that the franchise likes to highlight with any regularity. Her violin playing has shown up in two movies so far (Nobita and the Knights on Dinosaurs and Nobita and the Kingdom of Clouds), but only in very brief scenes where we don’t see anyone else reacting to it. (Edit: I’d forgotten that she also plays the violin in The New Record of Nobita’s Spaceblazer. There, it is a similar situation in which she is only seen practicing alone. She is finally shown playing in front of an audience during the end credits of Nobita’s Sky Utopia, which I hadn’t had a chance to see when I first wrote this post.)

Of course, there are other ways to add dimensionality to a character besides giving them flaws. However, Shizuka in the movies almost never exhibits quirks of any kind, except maybe for being just a bit too obsessed with bathing. (Now that they rarely neglect to include in the movies, for some reason...)

In the main series, Shizuka is often the voice of reason who is strung along by the foolishness and craziness of the others around her, but she still gets her kicks. When the kids test out Doraemon’s Mysterious Trash Chute, there’s the implication that she goes the extra mile to throw in a concrete beam. (As far as I know, none of the animated adaptations of this story have included this particular detail, which is disappointing.)

There’s also the time she hesitates to partake in karaoke, only to have trouble putting down the mic once her turn comes around.

Even the manga counterparts to the movies sometimes contain facets of Shizuka’s character that weren’t adapted into the films themselves. (Perhaps that’s not a surprise considering that the original author had a more direct hand in the manga.) Nobita’s Three Visionary Swordsmen is already one of the best movies when it comes to Shizuka’s portrayal, but if you’ve never read the manga version, you probably wouldn’t have known that she aspires to be a diplomat working for world peace.

Then there’s this moment in Nobita and the Tin Labyrinth, where she makes a bet with Suneo over whether Nobita is lying to them. This conversation does happen in the movie, but the film version doesn’t quite get across just how smug Shizuka looks when she takes that bet.

And check out how pleased she is to be eventually proven right! (This expression didn’t make it into the movie either.)

Nobita in the Robot Kingdom was not written by the original manga author, but I’ve discussed before how the manga version of that story gave Shizuka an important part that was unfortunately cut out of the film.

Is this really a problem? After all, it’s well established that the other main characters in the movies don’t act exactly like they normally do in the manga either. With the others, however, subverting their usual roles is precisely what gives them character depth. Relegating Shizuka solely to being “the nice one”, which she already comes across as most of the time, makes her feel much more static by comparison.

An understandable concern is that swinging the pendulum too far in another direction might erode Shizuka’s kind image, but this need not be the case. Like anyone else, nice people can say and do some very un-nice things, and the trick for a storyteller is to interrogate what might lead them to act in such a way. I think the Nobita in the Robot Kingdom manga does this very well, but an example found in the films themselves can be seen in Nobita and the Steel Troops.

In this movie, (SPOILERS) Shizuka rescues a severely damaged robot spy, Riruru, and works on nursing her back to health. After Riruru explains the history of the robot society that she belongs to, Shizuka observes its parallels to human history. However, Riruru, who is still operating under a belief in robot supremacy, takes offense to this comparison and tries to shoot Shizuka, which results in Shizuka expressing regret and bitterness over having saved her in the first place. Shizuka gets over this very quickly and it’s not explored much further, but this still a rare deconstruction of her role as “the nice one”. Sometimes, being kind is hard.

Overly-long story short, it would be nice if the Doraemon movies let Shizuka do more “bad” (or mischievous, or just plain weird) things, especially for the sake of good.

[garaksapprentice]

New Post: Turning bedsheets into a wardrobe and other op shop thoughts

Originally posted on my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2023/09/turning-bedsheets-into-wardrobe.html

The Dilemma

When it comes to my clothes, I'm a remarkably lazy snob.

I want things that fit well. (This isn't an unreasonable thing to want, I feel.) I want comfortable fabrics that breathe, and don't end up smelling like a billy goat slept on them. (I swear, since starting T, I strip my shirts more often than I ever had to strip the cloth nappies.)

I want colours - black and white and grey don't count - that don't make me look dead. (When did all the t-shirts in the men's section become navy and olive?) And I want them to last longer than six months before they start a part-time internship in the mending box.

(The pile doth wax and the pile doth wane, but there's always a bloody pile.)

This short list is surprisingly difficult to achieve, off the rack. Anything that fits my shoulders won't fit my chest, and vice versa. The armscye is usually either comically large, or too small to fit my biceps. And pants? Let's just not go there. (Belts help. Kind of.)

I really dislike how polyester and other synthetics breathe (they don't), so I avoid them whenever I can. It's getting much harder to find clothes made of 100% natural fibres, whether new or second-hand.

Colours I have slightly more luck with - or I would, if the first two things didn't get in the way. Longevity is always an utter crapshoot. (Though I've found that wovens last longer than t-shirts.)

The Solution

Luckily, I know how to sew. I used to do it for a living. (Not clothes, mind - baby carriers. More structural, less technically complex.) My possess all the basic tools, a few of the extras, and a reasonable set of skills.

(I've been making clothes for the kids for years - they care a lot less about style and fit. And skirts are easy.)

So I'm taking a two-pronged approach to this dilemma. I'm practicing making things I actually like and will wear, and religiously patching my current wardrobe while I make replacements.

Making clothes, naturally, requires material. So instead of going to the op shop for clothes, I'm going for fabric. (I stopped buying new years ago, except for underwear, shoes, and the occasional really high quality item from places that at least pretend to pay their garment workers.) But my favourite deal-hunting section isn't sewing/craft - it's the linens.

Wait, what? Why?

Thrift store fabrics usually can't tell you what they're made from. (The staff get narky when you try to burn test the goods, sadly.) Plus there's just not that much of it. Bedding, tablecloths etc are donated far more frequently, and often still have their tags on them.

Now, you do have check for wear. Some donations look brand new, some have had a long life already. Check for pilling or thinner areas, especially in the middle of bedsheets (fitted ones are worse for this than flats). It's easier if you can hold things up to the light. Usually things in worse condition will be priced lower, but not always.

Why not buy clothes six sizes too large and chop them up to make new stuff?

I mean, you can. It's certainly a common choice, what with all the "thrift upcycle/refashion" videos and blogs and such out there dedicated to it. I personally don't, for the following reasons.

Care for people: I take the permaculture ethics seriously.

Have you ever really looked at the racks in an op shop? Piles of sizes S-L, much less outside of that. The bigger your meatsuit, the harder it is to find things that have a hope of fitting. Too bad if you hate stripes, or the fabric is itchy - if there's only two things in your size, then that's the choice you have. It sucks. (I am in no way body shaming here. Bodies do a lot of hard work for the people who live in them, and no one gets to judge anyone else's.)

I'm both outside the common sizes, and a weird enough shape to have trouble besides. And I've been broke enough that op shop clothes were a necessity, not a choice. I know what it's like to have to take what I could get as long as it fit "enough".

To me it is deeply unethical to take the few decent garments that are available for plus sized people, chop them up, and make something for me to wear out of them, when I can just as easily start with a sheet or a table cloth and achieve a similar result.

Efficient energy planning: I have limited time and brainpower available, and sometimes my executive dysfunction is bad. Like, "I'm eating peanut butter out of the jar for dinner because my brain has stopped" levels of bad.

Cutting up a garment, taking off buttons, and so on, adds several extra steps to a sewing project. Sometimes that's fine - in those situations, I have plenty of old clothes in the stash. More often, though, those extra steps completely derail me.

So I find it easier to start a project with what is essentially yardage. Even when I have to cut around stains, rips, or worn spots, it uses less cognitive capacity.

I also prefer rectangularly cut garments, and zero waste patterns that have you draw directly onto the fabric. These work better on something that started out life as a rectangle.

Use biological resources: Natural fibres are renewable. Mined ones are not. Where I can, I use the former. That's not to say I never use things with synthetic content - it's technically possible, but in practice hard as hell.

Produce no waste: I've still got a sizeable stash of acrylic knitting yarns, plus other bits and bobs, hanging around from before I made this commitment. Throwing them out or donating them (ie making them someone else's problem) won't actually fix things; I simply use them in appropriate projects, and when I replace them, I do so with things that fit my current ethical stance and needs.

But sheets are all plain white and boring!

I can see why you might think that. TV has done a lot of false advertising on that point. It is false. Trust me.

(Ignore the movies. Real sheets come in just about every colour you can think of.)

But, I know not everyone likes plain colours. What if you're madly in love with prints, or shirts with witty slogans on them? Well, besides the growing number of fancy sheets out there, might I interest you in the doona covers?

(The top right and bottom left are ex-doona covers. The rest are sheets.)

Or the fine art of embroidery?

(I shall have the most glorious shirt sleeves when I finish embroidering them.)

Or fabric painting?

(This is technically a mend, but I totally plan on doing similar to brand new things I make.)

Or the many different styles of natural dyeing?

(Soursobs from the local park, gently turning into dye liquor for some dyeing experiments.)

Or, if you've got lots of smaller or oddly shaped pieces of fabric hanging around, maybe some patchwork (all YouTube links)? It's not just coats and dressing gowns, either - you can patchwork jeans, trousers, dresses, shirts and more.

The point here is that fabric (and buttons, zips, thread, etc) doesn't have to be a thing you buy brand new. With time, patience, and a bit of luck, you can find everything you need to create great things second hand.

(Maybe I'll write a future post breaking down the costs of some of the things I've made...)

[essektheylyss]

im going a little crazy but huuuuuuge respect gained for you (and all writers, really) im taking a short story class and im fighting for my life out here. deadlines today so it probably won’t matter that much but how do you not despise what youre writing while writing. drawing’s like ok yea ok this is fine but writing. oh my god. :(

Hello! Deadlines are the worst, so sending some solidarity. (Also huge respect for you as an artist! I tend to feel the opposite—I can usually find some reason to keep a piece of writing but the number of times I want to kick a drawing to the curb entirely is HIGH.)

This is a really hard hurdle to get past though, and I don't think there's really a point where any writer always clears it. I recall, if I remember correctly, a pretty prolific writer (possibly Neil Gaiman but don't quote me on that) telling a story about how they had gotten like 60% done on a draft, called up their editor, and went, "This is crap, I'm giving up and moving onto something else, or better yet I'm never writing again," and the editor with utter chill went, "Oh, you're at that point in the writing process. It's fine, keep going." And the writer was gobsmacked to discover this had happened frequently enough that the editor recognized it.

In any case, I do actually have one trick for this, which helps me a lot! This got long and possibly overly extrapolated, so I'm putting it under a cut:

A lot of writing advice focuses on the timeless but, imo, useless mantra of, "Write the bad first draft because you can't edit a blank page." This is useless because it does nothing to tell you how to live with the shit draft, which is hard and discouraging for continuing with the draft, and also, if you're taking one writing course among many courses, you don't have time to labor over a piece in editing for months. Plus, especially with shorter pieces, I don't find laborious editing useful, especially if you're a perfectionist or worried about whether it's good. (Nothing kills my productivity like long-term editing; hence my current suffering, but sometimes it can't be helped.)

HOWEVER, my trick is this: do not focus on quality at all. "Good" is so subjective, and you can drive yourself crazy trying to achieve it. This is of course easier said than done, but what is easier is replacing it with something. I approach everything (whole pieces, individual scenes, bits of dialogue that I want to burn with fire) by asking myself what I am setting out to accomplish with that bit of writing, and then I evaluate or write it by deciding how that could be accomplished.

This could just be what your assignment is (though I find that a bit broad), or what theme or message you want to convey by the end (though I find that getting this specific is kind of stifling and often a bit too nebulous for me, which negates the point of the exercise). What I've found most helpful especially in writing short stories is to decide what emotion I want a piece to make people feel. That way, if I feel like it's crap partway through, I have a really specific way to evaluate it when I read it back; I can go look at other books or stories that make me feel the way I'm trying to make other people feel; and it's a much easier target for both large and small edits than, "Is it good?"

This also really helps my perfectionism, because it doesn't require it to be the best possible way to accomplish the goal—it just has to accomplish the goal itself. There's a lot less qualitative value being placed on it. Some of my writing that other people have liked the most have been things I thought weren't great, but I read it back and decided it accomplished what I wanted it to do regardless of my feelings about its quality, so I posted or submitted it, and it got the reaction I wanted it to.

And being able to hit those targets consistently is definitely a product of years of practice—which brings me to the one other goal that I find useless: having specific publication or posting goals. I spent basically all of my teenage/college years going, "This is Not Good but it's just practice." (My screenwriting professor did think I was crazy for writing so much as practice when I couldn't use the products as samples for various reasons, but good god am I a better writer for it.) I have written short stories for specific themed anthology calls and the worst thing I can do when I'm writing those is to put my goal down as getting accepted to the anthology, because I do the same thing that you're describing and freeze up while I'm writing it.

And your goal might not be a specific emotion—if you like writing to theme or message, do that! If all of that's too limiting to your creativity, focus on the point of the assignment and write to that! And if you don't know what goal to set at all on projects you're doing for practice, you can think of a piece of writing that makes you feel or think something that you thought was great, and evaluate it for why it achieved that, then try to hit that benchmark. Kind of the writing equivalent of artists practicing a specific artist's style while developing their own. (Needless to say, but since I'm saying this publicly, don't try to copy style too closely, and definitely don't plagiarize, both because it's shitty and also because your teacher's plagiarism checker is likely to catch it even if the teacher doesn't.)

Also, obligatory "your mileage may vary"—I am sure this will not work for all writers, and plenty of pantsers will be scandalized by the suggestion of thinking about an end goal before starting, but I really like having the benchmark and find focusing on that the most useful thing I can do when I'm stuck or discouraged, and find that it genuinely improves my writing because it means it's more cohesive in the end.

[getoutofmyjaneway]

Beta Cannon: the Pre Voyager Era of Kathryn Janeway | Mosaic v The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway

This weekend, I got a copy of the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway from a local book store. For how frequently we speak about Mosaic in the community (despite having some flaws) I was shocked that I had not heard a lot about this book and assumed it was a bad thing. And yeah in some regards it was (see @mia-cooper’s post on the subject). I have a lot of feelings (I’ll post a proper review at a later point) but one thing that did stick out to me is the divergence from what we have considered Beta Canon, aka, the extended universe of Star Treks told through novels, short stories, video games, etc. After completing the novel, I jumped right into my old standby copy of Mosaic, which has dictated a lot of Janeway’s back story since 96. Both of these novels cover the beginnings of Janeway’s life and how she was shaped into the woman we know. 

TLDR The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway changes a lot of things for no reason. Some of these are for the good. Some for the bad. And some, for like no good reason at all, like it was fine as it was, and was accepted cannon for like 25 years, but sure fine whatever.

I will mention that, as Mosaic has been a book in my library and I have read it too many times, so of course, I do have a bias toward it. Additionally, I feel like it is fair to mention here that authors of Fanfiction have leaned on this as their bibles since 1996 as Mosaic is written by Jeri Taylor, one of the show-runners for Voyager. Because of its connection with a showrunner, Mosaic is also integrated into the canon of the show. It seems that most points that are taken from Mosaic in the Autobiography are only included because of their existence in cannon material.

Anyway, this review is going to focus on the characters that shape Kathryn and I will end with my final thoughts. This is long so to respect your dash, you are going to have to click keep reading. You’re welcome.

Obligatory Spoiler Warning for ALL of Mosaic, chapter 13 of Pathways, and chapters 1-7 of The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway

Edward Janeway

In all media, I feel like we can safely say that Kathryn Janeway is in fact a daddy’s girl. Her relationship with her father is very important to her, so it is interesting to see how it is portrayed very differently in both novels. In Mosaic, a lot of the highlights of Janeway’s earlier years revolve around time spent with him. From giving her special attention after ‘Your Sister’ was born, to consoling her after her losing tennis match and subsequent walk home in the rain, and trips to Mars, Kathryn mentions great fondness of quality time spent. In the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway he is more described as an absent father, one that she always wanted to see and please. When he was home, she wanted all of his attention and to impress him greatly. She wished to follow in his footsteps after gaining a love of flight and the stars with a plane ride and a telescope he gave her. He tried to prepare her by detaining the events of the current conflict with Cardassia and inviting Starfleet brass over for dinner. Overall, in her early childhood, it makes more sense for Edward to not be around often. There is not a lot of conflict between the sources, other than the details of the aforementioned tennis match and different childhood nicknames.  

Edward is in a crash aboard an experimental ship on Tau Ceti Prime which leads to his death. This is where the big differences begin. In Mosaic, Kathryn and her fiancé are also on board. In  Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn is still on the Al-Batani. The fall out of this event has a great effect on Kathryn of course in both novels. As this is a missive shaping event of Kathryn’s life, I felt it very jarring to be changed. This moment shaped Janeway and gives us good context for why she handles situations the way she does. I see this trauma and I understand her character better, for dealing with the loss of two of the most important people in her life all at once.

Gretchen Janeway

The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway was good to Gretchen Janeway as her character is basically a blank slate. We know little about her from Mosaic as it mostly focuses on Kathryn’s relationship with her father (and other male influences in her life). It is nice to learn more things about Grechen as with Edward’s job, it is likely that Kathryn was mainly raised by her. Other than being an artist, she also wrote some of the Flotter holos and wrote a number of children’s stories about the people of Bajor during the occupation. She does a lot of humanitarian work with the refugees from Bajor during the occupation. She loves to garden and get her daughters involved. She has a close bond with Phoebe due to their overlapping interests, but you can tell that she strives to support her in what she does. Overall, I like getting know Gretchen to be someone of than Kathryn’s mother.

Phoebe Janeway

 I was shocked when researching Memory Alpha for this review, Phoebe is never named in any Cannon media up to this point (Star Trek Prodigy could very well change this). We know Janeway has a sister and she is an artist, but that is it. Both novels keep her very similar personality-wise. In both stories, Kathryn is not looking forward to being a big sister. They also both mourn the loss of their father together. In Mosaic, she is not mentioned much. Kathryn tells her she is not old enough on an off planet trip and Phoebe plays pranks on her. The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway goes much more into depth. They don’t get along when they are younger. They fight a lot. I feel this is a very realistic portrayal of real siblings, vying for attention and approval, snapping when they don’t get their way.  They both excel at what they do, Kathryn in her studies and Phoebe through her art. They seem to need to one-up each other at every turn.  As they grow up, they grow closer together, as many siblings do. Points added for giving Phoebe a wife, something which has been included in a lot of fanfiction. Overall, there are no big conflicting points.

Mark Johnson

Kathryn’s fiance at the time of the Voyager’s disappearance, Mark is a very different part of Kathryn’s life in both novels. In Mosaic, he is a childhood friend and went by his middle name Hobbs. Seemingly always two steps behind Kathryn, he did a lot of the same activities that she did, tennis and swimming in the underground cave systems. He did these poorly, and this makes Kathryn always look down upon him. They reconnected after her father’s death and she fell head-over-heels for him. Personally, I always felt this was a little uncharacteristic of Kathryn, to run away from her responsibilities to be with a man. It just seems very out of character and has always bothered me. The  Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway takes a completely different approach. She meets Mark as a friend of Pheobe and her wife as a widower. They hit it off and they fall hard. You can see the conflict in Kathryn as she debates how to move forward with a relationship as they have different outlooks on life. She has a drive to explore but does not want to be an absent parent. She debates quitting, which I don’t think is something Janeway would have ever done. Overall she decides to accept Mark’s proposal just before taking command of Voyager. This makes the Dear John situation a lot more believable as it makes sense that he would want to move on with his life much quicker. Overall, I have to just ask, why? I know Mark doesn’t have a lot of character, but why change basically their whole relationship dynamic? 

Justin Tighe

Justin is a character I actually like for selfish reasons. This explains why I was very miffed that he was nowhere to be seen in the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway. Justin is Kathryn’s first love, they were coworkers, engaged and in love, and dies in the same accident that takes her father. As a person who always wanted Chakotay and Janeway to get together, this incident perfectly gives the reason. She is afraid to get romantically involved with a crew member because of the nature of the job. This dynamic is seen between Picard and Nella Daren in TNG very well. Kathryn has learned the hard way that she can lose a person under her command and how it feels when you are in love with that person. In early Voyager, you can see she isolates herself from the crew and it takes time for her to get comfortable. And during Night she relapses to her old ways. This is the way I have always justified Janeway’s reluctance to have a romantic relationship during their time in the Delta Quadrant. By understanding her background, I have a lot of respect for that choice. Her relationship with Justin really shaped how she handles relationships and without the impact he had on her life, it actually makes her character weaker.

Owen Paris

Owen is Kathryn’s mentor. In Mosaic, they meet as he is reviewing her junior honors thesis advisor on massive compact halo objects. From here they gained a relationship built on respect and learning. It makes sense that, as he was her personal mentor, that she would be close with his family, and why she would seek out Tom as a person to bring with her to the Badlands mission. In the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway, she does not meet him until she is on the Al-Batani. This doesn’t only weaken her relationship with Admiral Paris, but moreover weakens her relationship with Tom. If he was her superior officer, why would she develop such a ‘big sister’ mentality to Tom if she didn’t have as many opportunities to meet him?

Tuvok

Mosaic does not go too much in depth with Tuvok and Janeway’s relationship, but its sister novel Pathways does. In Pathways, Tuvok meets Janeway when he is an ensign under her command of the USS Bonestell. The Bonestell and the Billings, two ships that Janeway served on, tend to get confused a lot. Most sources have Janeway’s first command as the Voyager, Including Voyager itself -  “It doesn't seem like my first command is shaping up the way I expected,” Janeway Shattered. The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway has her and Tuvok meet on the Al-Batani. I actually really like the dynamic between them, as they grow to respect each other over a much longer period of time. I also like that, though Janeway climbs through the ranks, it does not change their relationship dynamic as she still relies on him and asks him advice as if they were equals. I think giving them a longer time to build their relationship. Also would like to note that Janeway and Tuvok also had a friendship with the original CMO of Voyager, Dr. Fitzgerald. I always wanted to know more about the Pre-Caretaker crew and I would have loved to see this dynamic and how the grief of losing a close personal friend in the Caretaker incident would impact them both.

Also I feel obligated to shout out the Janeway and Tuvok story in Star Trek Waypoint One-Shot. I need to get around to doing a series retrospective, but this short story I have not seen anyone talk about and I love it so much. Please read Waypoint. Okay next.

Other characters

Cheb - Janeway’s boyfriend in Mosaic. He was kind of an asshole and got her into trouble. He is not in the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway and I see no problem with this.

Boothby - “[he is the] head groundskeeper at Starfleet Academy. When I was a cadet, he used to give me fresh roses for my quarters,” Janeway Revulsion. Boothby is not in Mosaic. In the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway, it is explained that her mother loved to garden and this was something that Boothby did as a gradian figure to make her feel at home and destress. Makes sense.

Aisha - A childhood friend of Katheryn’s. Only in the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway. Mosaic has this weird thing about highlighting the relationships with only the men in her life, so it is nice to see her have some other female friends.

Nexa - Katheryn’s roommate at the Academy.  Only in the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway. Nexa helps broaden Kathryn’s horizons by helping to learn about Exoliguisticts, first contact, and the Betazoid culture. Again nice to see her have other female friends.

Riker - Yes they go on a date in Mosaic. He is not mentioned in the  Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway. I know he is a gag character but I still liked it.

-----------------------

Final Thoughts

A lot of characters were changed between these two novels. There is a lot to like and a lot to hate. I really like what the Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway did with characters like Tuvok and Gretchen Janeway. Other characters were not so lucky (Justin, sweetie I’m so sorry that they would erase you like that, oh my god). It’s a mixed bag, but one thing I need say is... why?

We have had a good thing going here with the established canon as is. Mosaic (and Pathways) is the foundation of which the last 25 years of fanworks and the relaunch novels are based on. Why change history when it is already written?

Always, would love to hear your thoughts and thank you for reading my novel of a post. I will see you in the full review.

[sunshineandbnha]

Unexpected - Denki x reader (Valentine’s Day)

Word count: 3,978

Warnings: none, aside from a case of “Did not edit, just finished this this morning”

A/n: HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG?? I swear, I started it with the idea and intention that it would be 1.4k or 1.9k words. How did I accidentally write two thousand more words? Anyway, I hope this is a good valentine fic for Denki boy. I thought of it due to a prompt on tumblr. If I can later remember who it was who made it, I will edit this and have a link to that post.

Edit: Found it. The prompt was made by @love-me-a-good-prompt

~

When was it you started to look at him differently?

"Hey!"

You looked over your shoulder to find Kaminari making his way past several students in the cafeteria to get to you. You turned your body to face him. Though, you felt awkward about still holding your lunchtray, as if it was a barrier between you and him.

"Do you got a date for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

Your heart gave a weep at the reminder of Valentine's day. As if the hearts and commercials all over the place weren't enough. "What do you think?"

"Just checking." He dashed to get his lunch tray he had set down, and sped walked to your side as you picked a table to sit at.

Kaminari had been your friend for several months. One day you had simply overheard him talking about a manga, the same one you had read, and you jumped into the conversation. After that, the both of you became easy friends, and frequently had lunch at the same table.

"Why would you even ask?��� You slid into a seat at the table. “You know there's no one I'm really interested in."

"Except for fictional characters," he added while getting into his own chair across from you.

"Yeah. Unfortunately they aren't available for me to ask out."

He leaned back in his seat. “We’re really missing out on these things. I thought by the time I was in high school training to be a cool hero, I would have tons of girls who like me by now.”

“And I, for some reason, thought I would magically manifest a special someone. But that’s clearly not happening anytime soon.” You stared down while absent mindedly stirring your food.

He suddenly sat straight and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. The kind that told you he had an idea. "What if we did all of that classy Valentine's day stuff together?"

"I think you meant cliche."

"Banana, ba- ... oh wait, that's not how the saying goes."

You let out a large laugh and nearly choked on your food.

"Something with tomatoes or potatoes," he continued with a wave of his hand as if throwing away the topic. "Well, what do you think? You wanna do it?"

"You just want the chocolate, don't you?"

"No! I would never!" He waved his arms around. "... Well, that too."

"I knew it!" You lifted your fork/chopstick of food into air in triumph. "Just make sure you get my favorite chocolate once White Day rolls around."

"Sure thing!" He gave a thumbs up. "I'm sure I can get enough money by then!"

"You've been using all of it on manga and snacks again, haven't you?"

"What else would I use it on?"

"Okay. Just don't use the money for my chocolate on manga."

"If I did, It would be a great manga and be worth a lot more than some chocolate. Actually, that should be a thing. Instead of getting girls chocolate, get them manga! And we should get manga too. ... So, are we doing it?" he asked when he paused long enough to think.

"I don't know,” you shrugged while taking another bite.

He slammed his hand on the table. "But you said it like you did! I just agreed to get you chocolate next month!"

"I was saying if I agreed. If I agreed then you would have to get me chocolate.” You internally laughed at his response.

Kaminari slumped in his chair. "Okay, but my point is, how long have we been single? And it doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, so I was thinking why not we experience some of it while we're still in high school?"

"Hmmm," you tapped your finger against your lip. "Well, you have a point. And I guess I got nothing better to do tomorrow."

“So it’s a yes?” his eyes lit up.

“I guess so.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and some heads turned towards him. “I got a—!”

You hastily pulled him back down and got a hold of his ear. He yelped in pain before you shushed him. The attention he had gained was beginning to die down after doing that, much to your relief. You released a small puff of air, grateful that you didn’t feel like you were in a spotlight anymore.

“Kaminari,” you whispered into his ear, an edge present in your voice, “Don’t go announcing it to the world, especially if it’s not an actual date. Do not ruin it for me.”

You let go, and he got out of the awkward position of being pulled half way onto the table. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed in his food when you pulled him down. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his ear.

“Okay! You can count on me!”

 Maybe it was a bad idea to suddenly agree when that meant you had to make chocolate for him that night. You already had some chocolate you bought from the store for family and friends. One of those giri chocos was originally going to be his, but now you would have to actually make him honmei choco if you were going to have the whole Valentine's Day experience. You considered skipping on that for a brief second, but you had already agreed to do it. Plus, you weren't sure if you would ever get to do this during high school at this rate. And you wanted to at least have done it once.

You'd have to run to the store to get better quality chocolate, a cute wrap for it, and a heart shaped mold. In order to save time, you went directly to the nearest store after school. It would save time, which you didn't have much of it. You didn't know how long it would take to make them, and you wanted some extra time in case you make a mistake and had to do something over again.

It was more crowded than you thought. You also didn't realize how many stares you would get just for being in your U.A. uniform. Thankfully, everything you needed was there and you made your way to the counter to pay. As you were weaving your way through the people, you thought you saw another student. You did a double take. Uniform. Pink skin. Ashido.

You tried to duck and hide, but it was too late.

"Oh, hey!" She waved you down and ran to you. A bag of purchased goods was hanging from her arm. "What are you doing here? Are you getting last minute giri choco too!"

“I, uh.”

“Hey, isn't that stuff to make chocolate? Wait a second… OMG! Who’s the lucky person!”

You nervously held the items close to you. This was why you didn't want her seeing you. "No one, really. I'm just... making it for the experience." You put a smile onto your face and did your best to make the last half of the sentence sound cheery.

It wasn't technically a lie. You just hoped she bought it. Because if she kept prying and learned it was for Kaminari, you would never hear the end of it.

"Okay. Can I have some when you're done?" She joked and bumped your arm with her elbow.

"Only if I didn't eat it all first." You internally high fived yourself for the quick reply.

"Okay. Well, see you at U.A." She waved before dashing out the door.

"Bye!" You watched her go. When she was out of view, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding.

 You stood nervously in the park. You wore a Valentine Day themed outfit you had put together, with the help of some ideas from the internet. It was 5:45 pm, the time you agreed on meeting. You had honestly expected him to be slightly late. Though it did nothing to make your feel less jittery.

There were quite a few people who also had the same idea of going to the park. Some friends playing Frisbee. A family walking by. And some couples. You scanned the area for him, multiple times, but still couldn't see him.

Why were you even so worried? This was your friend. It’s not like it was an actual date with someone you liked. If he forgot or something, you could just chew him out later. Then that 'what if' situation made you sick to your stomach and you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Hey!"

You head turned up within a split second and you saw him. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. This plus his smile and hair... somehow made him look nice. A smile spread on your face, yet your nerves didn't completely calm down just yet.

"Hey!" You greeted back.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You too." You nodded. "So, what were you planning on doing first?"

"I thought we'd walk around here first, then go to this one restaurant. And after that we can wander around shops." he shrugged.

"Okay, sounds nice." You began walking side by side with him.

Your brain tried to sabotage the moment by beginning to make you feel awkward. You did your best to push it away. But were you supposed to be walking in silence? Or talking?

"You wanna hold hands?" He offered.

"Hmm," you joking held your finger to your lip in deep thought. "I think no."

"Oh, come on!" He acted upset, but there was a big grin on his face.

You laughed and he joined in. A few more jokes were thrown back and forth as you passed trees and other people. Though within a seemingly short amount of time, the conversation hit dead end. You pulled on your sleeve and look in any direction but him.

"Okay, this is getting boring,” he said. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

"Lucky for you, I think we're almost at the end of the park, and I'm hungry."

“Yes!” he cheered. “They always make walking through the park look more fun in the movies.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh.

Kaminari led you to the place he picked out. Well, more like he tried to go there, then got lost and had to give up on relying on his memory. He made the brilliant move of pulling out his phone, setting the location on his map app, and he following it. But you both realized that he had gotten the point where you going mixed up with your location.  This resulted in having to backtrack and ignoring your growling stomach as it took even longer to get there.

Finally, you found it. You entered through door with him. Inside were tables placed around a large circle. The conveyor belt had several plates of food with different types of sushi and other dishes. The chiefs in the middle of the circle conveyor worked hard to keep the food coming. Almost every table was filled.

“Aw, man. We should have gotten here earlier,” Kaminari grabbed your hand. “C’mon.”

You both ran until you spotted a free table and slide in. It took a second to catch your breath after the sudden sprint. Sitting in the chair, you looked around more closely. It was a nice place. There were people chattering, some clanking of plates, and mouth watering food slowly passing by you. You reached up to begin to grab one, but then you stopped yourself.

"Wait, am I paying for myself or where you...?"

"You can have whatever you want. My treat," he replied with a ish eating grin. Probably meant that he thought what he just said was very cool.

You laughed to yourself and picked one and he did the same. It was good. You were pleasantly surprised, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he had only learned of the restaurant while looking up ones online to take you to. And it was only yesterday that you agreed. Then again, you had made honmei choco the other night...

You suddenly remembered something and nearly choked on your sushi roll.

"You okay?" Kaminari said, unfortunately dismissing any hope you had that he didn't notice.

"No, I'm good. I just need to make a phone call. One second." You excused yourself and walked outside while pulling out your phone.

It was an uncomfortable change to suddenly be greeted by the chilly February air. Was it really that cold when you  were with Kaminari? You dialed your mom's number and resisted the urge to pace.

As soon as you heard the other end being picked up, you began. "Mom, I need you to get something for me. If you look in the kitchen, somewhere on the counter is where I left a bag of chocolate for Valentine's day. Can you bring that to me?" You had been so busy trying to get ready and be on time, that you had accidentally left the honmei choco you made.

"Uhh, okay. But where are you? It’ll be awfully hard to give it to you if I don’t know where you are."

"In a little bit I should be..." you tried to think of a good point to meet up, "near Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Probably close to that one gazebo. I'll text you that so you don't forget after I hang up."

"Okay. I hope you appreciate this. I really don't feel like going all the way out there to give you something you forgot."

"If I could go back and un-forget it, I would. Thank you. Bye."

With that, the call ended. You took a deep breath to calm your heart, which seemed to think forgetting chocolate was a catastrophic event, and went back inside.

When you caught sight of Kaminari again he was dunking a chunk of seaweed and fish into soy sauce, before shoving it into his already full mouth. He stopped  and paused upon seeing you. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could and finished by the time you sat back down.

"So, what was that about?" he started it off as a joke, but his voice seemed shaky for whatever reason.

"I just forgot something and asked Mom to go get it for me." Technically wasn't a lie.

"Oh, okay." He began eating more. He started counting the plates and you could see his face pale a tad.

"Is everything alright for you?"

"Huh? I mean, yeah, everything's great." He smiled at you.

You shrugged and focused your gaze on the conveyor belt. A particularly delicious looking morsel. It was clearly more expensive, with a nice layer of tuna in it. You reached out your hand, considering getting it when you saw Kaminari flinch at your action.

You turned to him. "Do I need to pay for my own meal?"

"No, no," he tried to retain the coolness he built up, "I can pay."

You sighed. "No, you are not going broke because of expensive fish."

"But, that's not-"

"What? It's not cool? Denki- oops.” You realized you accidentally used his given name.

His face turned the slightest bit pink, though you hardly even noticed in your own embarrassment. “That’s fine. You can call me Denki. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Thanks,” you nodded and continued, “Denki, you are my friend," why did the word 'friend' leave a different taste this time 'round? "and I don't want you doing something stupid because you think it makes you look cool."

He struggled to make a comeback and ended up blurting out, "Doing something stupid that makes me look cool defines me."

"Look, let's split the bill between us, that way you pay for some of mine, but you don't spend up the money for the chocolate you promised me."

"Wait, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to make sure you still got chocolate." He faked an offended expression.

You exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better. As long as you agree."

"Fine."

"But don't purposefully buy more just because I'm offering to pay half."

"Can't make any promises~"

"You little-"

Eventually, you became full enough, or rather reached the maximum to what you were willing to pay. Then you left. You blinked when you stepped out. You hadn’t expected it to become this dark. Kaminari began walking off, probably to some store or the mall, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Is it alright if we stop by the beach?"

His eyes lit up, like the stars in the sky. "Great idea! That'd be much more romantic."

You expected to roll your eyes, but what you found was your face growing warm and your mouth being lost for words. Thankfully, he didn't notice and just started running for the beach, pulling you along. Buildings loomed over you in the dark, until they finally cleared and the beach came into view. The sea seemed to become the night sky. It gently washed over the sand in a rhymic pattern. The sound of it filled your ears and your senses listened. A sense of calmness washed over you.

You both walked up to the gate that separated the beach from the road. Kaminari leaned against the metal gate, resting on his arms. The two of you stared at the view in a comfortable silence.

“Wow, this is nice,” he commented.

“Yeah.” There was a weird feeling, somewhat reminiscent to a flutter or squeeze, in your chest. Something that made the moment seem more magical. You could almost feel this feeling rising and beginning to climb up your throat.

More silence, then a movement caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Your mom was waving to you and held a small bag that slightly reflected in the small amount of light there was.

“One second, I need to go get something,” you let him know and ran to your mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t make this a habit,” she handed it to you. Then she glanced to where Kaminari was and squinted. “Is that your date? Is that why you were making chocolate?”

“No,” your voice came out more unsure for some reason, “well, I… was just making that for myself. This is just giri choco.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Don’t stay out much longer.”

“I won’t.” You quickly ran back. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Noting important,” you shrugged and leaned on the gate. “Oh, and here.” You held the bag out to him, trying to act cool and nonchalant, but you knew you had a big smirk on your face.

He gasped and snatched it out of your hold. He wrestled with the bag, trying to get it open. Once he succeeded, he looked inside. A big smile spread across his face and he pulled it out. He held a large chocolate heart on a stick, almost like a lollipop. You thought that would be fun to make. Of course, now that he held it, you could see all the tiny imperfections. Like where a small air bubble had been, or how some chocolate had gotten on the stick. But Kaminari didn’t seem to care at all. He stared at it in awe. Like he had just been given something he wanted for years.

“Wow! Wait, did your mom just give this to you? Did you forget?” he looked over to you.

“What, no, I would never…” you laughed nervously. “But I did make it. You better like it, or else,” you joked.

“I’m sure I will! Wow. You made this?”

“Yep. Last night.”

“Thank you!” He took a bite out of it and began happily chewing.

You smiled. Your eyes locked onto the gazebo on the beach. It looked really nice. The thought of you being in it made you want to go even more. Currently there was a couple there, but then they walked out and started going down the beach. Your eyes lit up.

You looked to Kaminari, tugged on his sleeve, and pointed to the now empty location.

He grinned. “I think I know what you’re thinking and I think we should do it too.”

With a couple of small laughs you both hurried down to the beach was fast as you could. The sand made you slow your pace into a walk, but you didn’t mind. The sea air on you felt refreshing, chilling your skin. The moon was beautiful and the water reflected slivers of the moonlight that danced.

"It looks really nice." You smiled.

"Yeah... wanna hold hands?" He offered his free hand to you.

To your surprise, this actually sounded nice. And to your greater surprise, you accepted. Your hand slipped in his perfectly. Almost like it found its home. The second you skin touched, it was like electricity ran through you and jump started your heart. You were about to ask if he was using his quirk, but quickly realized that it didn't feel exactly like electricity. But the strange feeling in your heart continued. You couldn't tell if it felt nice or if you wanted it to go away.

Your feet kept sinking in the sand until you reached the pier and had to get used to walking on concrete again. You made your way to the roof on the end of the pier, hand in hand. You stood by the edge. Staring at the water.

Kaminari took the last bite. “That was delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” he looked around. He put the stick back into the bag and placed it in his pocket. “Wanna dance?”

Instead of your usual joking reply, you felt flustered, but shyly accepted. He pulled out his phone and started some music up. You put your hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He held you by the waist. You tried to regulate your breathing and calm down. The two of you began spinning in time with the music. He twirled you around. You even did that one move you would see in movies. When you’d spin out, like a door opening, while still holding his hand. The he’d pull you back to him. It all felt simple, and fun.

Right as the fourth song was ending, you had an overwhelming urge to ask him something. “Umm,” then you stopped yourself when you realized exactly what it was you actually wanted to ask. But why did it feel like it was rising out of your throat, desperately wanting to be said.

“Yeah?” he looked at you. His yellow eyes made you feel like melting, an effect they never had up until that point.

“I… it was nothing.”

“Really?”

“No.” You cursed yourself for automatically saying the truth.

 “Then what is it?” He looked at you more intently.

Your mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out what to do or say. “Date, please,” you blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Well, um.” You really wished you had kept your mouth shut. You stared down and said in the most quiet voice possible, “I think maybe I kinda like you and maybe, kinda, want to go on a real date with you. Maybe? If you’d be fine with that, maybe.”

“Wait,” he stepped back as if in surprise. “You. Want to date… me?”

Your face was burning to the point you wanted to stick into the water like an ostrich. “Yes?”

He threw his arms in the air and jumped around. “Yes! I got an actual date! I’m finally dating someone! They said I couldn’t do it!”

“You don’t need to announce it to the whole world.” You laughed.

“Well, you are m—”

“I swear, if you say finish with ‘my world’ I will knock you over the head.”

He let out a big laugh. “Why? You don’t want to be my world?”

His laughter was contagious. “No, it’s cheesy, and this literally just happened a minute ago.”

You both started to walk back, and hardly even noticed when your hands slipped perfectly into one another.

[lightsinthedistancee]

Darkness : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Excerpt: “Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.”

Summary: A short talk to Poe is always enough to cure a case of loneliness.

Warnings: Some sexual references

A/N: This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I actually originally meant for this to be a perhaps 500 word-ish Drabble but it ended up way longer obviously. But I’m really proud of it and love the concept of Writer Wednesday, so hope you guys enjoy! (Also, we’re just gonna pretend that phones and phone booths exist in the Star Wars universe...).

You’ve always found something lovely in darkness.

It’s simple, quiet, a constant that never changes, that rolls around at roughly the same time each night. Settles over cities and towns and every being in the galaxy in a thin blanket. Darkens faces into comforting anonymity, conceals the activities of lovers, provides peace in slumber for the weary.

There is a saying: One should not be afraid of the dark, but of what lies in it.

And after years of life, years of travel, years of experiencing the galaxy, you know that nothing sinister hides beneath darkness. No monsters, no demons, no ghosts. It is something that simply exists with no ulterior motive, something that is debatably hard to come by these days.

Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.

In those times, darkness is there, still a constant. Hiding his features, hiding those eyes you adore during the daytime, allowing you to become entirely tactile, to simply feel him to the fullest, void of the distraction one’s most used method of perception, sight,  provides.

Yet tonight is a rare night. Your feet hit pavement as you walk quickly, hands in your coat, head bent towards the ground. You’ve been on this Outer Rim planet for nearly two months, gathering intelligence undercover, maintaining little to no contact with the Resistance, and therefore, Poe.

The darkness seems stronger than ever tonight. It slithers up and down the sides of buildings, seems to wrap around you in strings. In this moment, it is not simply a cover—it is suffocating.

The loneliness had been getting to you. Too many days going by a name that is not your own, too many days living in constant fear, too many days away from the touch of someone that’s always able to take your mind off of everything.

And that’s exactly what you need right now. A distraction. A brief moment to bind you back to everything you know, something you are slowly, imperceptibly slipping away from in your mind. The buildings seem to tower over you, to dwarf you. It’s an intimidation act, and you feel it’s working.

It feels as if you can sink into the asphalt, become one with the soil that had been so cruelly compressed by man-made rock. As if you can sink beneath and become one with the dead, the figurative and the literal that had most likely been so barbarously worked to death to build this historic city in the dark days of the galaxy.

You round a bend, turning onto the main street, and your eyes, adjusted to the dark, flare painfully as light hits you. You snap them shut on instinct, flinching. However, the object of your discomfort is not an unknown. This route had been walked by you every day the last two months, and the light is the same phone booth you’d been using to transmit information back to the Resistance due to the anonymous, unmonitored, and therefore, rare quality of it.

It is hardly used anymore, for everyone has their own personal holos, and this one is particularly beat up. It’s translucent walls are cloudy, it’s metal backing dented. Nowadays, it is probable that is it only frequented by drunks and Spice addicts and, well…you.

There is something ironic about the fact that this small, dilapidated booth is your only connection back to D’Qar.

But not ironically, perhaps in a poetically symbolic manner, it also shines bright in the darkness, eradicates the very thing that had been suffocating you moments earlier. It is almost a physical embodiment of hope.

It is also a universal rule that hope births more hope, and an unwise desire comes over you. One that could put the whole operation at risk. But resisting the temptation, it hurts. It’s agonizing, and you want to give in to it. You want to hear one voice. One voice that can wrap you in softness, encourage your imagination to conjure up the sensation of his touch.

And before you know it, you’re in the booth, dialing a long string of numbers you’ve memorized by now. A voice of a communications officer sounds.

You state your name.

“Security code?” the officer asks.

“Six nine eight oh seven three.”

Your eyes nervously glance around. Despite having done this a few times, the experience still makes your heart race. You can only hope that any observer would see only an ordinary lone figure, silhouetted in the light, making an emergency call to a friend because she drank too much or got her wallet stolen.

“You got information?”

“No,” you respond, letting out a soft breath and lying through your teeth. “I need you to transfer me to Commander Dameron. I have a hunch regarding something naval, and I need his opinion.”

You silently chide yourself at your quickness to over explain.

But luckily, the communication officer says nothing. “Transferring now,” he says.

You thank him, leaning against the inner wall of the booth, hovering the phone directly next to your ear. Moments of silence pass before a voice breaks it.

“Hello?” says Poe.

Every point of tension in you seemed to relax in a moment as your eyes slowly close. The timbre of his voice washes over you, through you. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds confused. Above all, tired.

“Did I wake you?” you ask, feeling bad all of a sudden. The high that had been coursing through your veins moments earlier plunges back to the ground. The intensity with which you feel it is irrational, yet nothing in you mind is steady.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” he replies, a slight urgency to his voice. “Is something wrong?”

You picture him in your shared bed back on D’Qar, shirt off like usual. Propped up on one elbow, sheets falling to his waist, holo to his ear, concern on his features. Concern at his love calling him in the middle of the night, her voice shaking.

“Nothing’s wrong…I just…I….” Your voice trails off, and a silence a bit too long elapses.

“Baby?” he asks.

Your breath trembles slightly as you let it out. “This was a mistake,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, just—“

He interjects at the tone of finality in your voice. “Hey…don’t go, sweetheart.” You hear him shift, perhaps sitting up. “Just talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I miss you,” you blurt out. You’d meant to say it more eloquently, less directly, but that’s not something you have the energy for right now. “I miss everyone back on D’Qar. This assignment…it’s the most least contact with base I’ve ever had, and—why am I even telling you that? You know that.” You let out a frustrated breath, gathering your thoughts. He patiently waits, something you’re grateful for. “I’m just…having a hard time. That’s all.”

His energy transmits well through the phone. He’s thinking, the gears in his mind turning. You can feel the helplessness, for there is undeniably little he can do. “I miss you, too,” he finally says. “It’s a few more weeks, baby. I know you’ve got it in you…”

It’s a simple sentence, yet nearly reinvigorating in a way. Nothing that immediately lifts your mood, but perhaps something that briefly abates the hollow feeling within you.

“I’ll be there the moment you’re back.” His tone is soft, a little raspy with tiredness, slightly reminiscent of the way he tells you how much he loves and how amazing you are in a post-sex haze of exhaustion. It’s an odd relation, but the sense of peace that both tones hold is something you always cling to. “I’ll be there to kiss you. To hold you.” He pauses. “To take you to bed….”

The way his voice, on the last statement, walks the line between humorous and genuinely seductive makes you laugh quietly. It’s neither a common nor desirable combination.

“There’s that beautiful laugh,” he says softly, letting out a breath, returning to his previous demeanor. “I’ll be there, baby. I know you know that.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. Air brushes past your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “I know.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl

Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @spider-starry @paper-n-ashes

If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, just let me know or do the form on my Masterlist if that’s easier!

Based on this Writer Wednesday pic:

[rpbetter]

Thanks for your thoughts. Nope, I don't have another problem with the psa. It's the subtle word choice pretty much, but nothing else. I don't mind if people use me as a meme farm, so when I see psas like that or comments like that, I get upset because I associate it with people who make other blanket assumptions about all rpers, I have it linked in my head with people going around saying "rp is a hobby not a jobby" and making other assumptions about how all rpers do their thing.

Thank you for answering those questions!

The assumptive quality of the RPC can seriously be annoying as hell, especially if you're in the minority on any particular issue. When that's the case, the PSAs are so rarely geared toward you and any issues you might be experiencing that it's legitimately upsetting. I absolutely feel you on that!

I mean, obviously. Obviously lol I do. It couldn't be much clearer that I have a serious issue with the constant bombardment of PSAs insisting that we normalize shitty behaviors that are the damn norm, that we're all just losers RPing on tumblr so no one should be anxious about anything ever (instead of, you know, maybe trying to legitimately boost people's confidence, radical thought), or that anything that isn't being hostile to oneself is being hostile to everyone else.

I think the issue is that, while there is obviously a majority set of takes/issues/experiences (though, those, too, absolutely can skew toward one's particular RP corner and style), there's no way to address every instance and variable of an issue. Particularly not when anything other one paragraph is too lengthy for a lot of people here to engage with in a meaningful way.

So, I know I have to frequently ask, "is this a legitimate or hostile sort of blank-statement, or is it just addressing the majority experience? If it's the latter, is it genuinely enough of a problem to address?"

Like, did they mean that this is an experience most RPers have, or did they mean this is the only experience/is the correct and only way to do things? And that's not always answerable, of course, but when I feel like it is, it's usually found on OP's blog and RPC itself.

If OP has expressed things that are not the majority experience, expressed that they do not agree with blanket-statements, and doesn't imply with every rule, PSA, point on the DNI, and so on that to approach and proceed with RP in a way they do not is to commit some manner of terrible IRL crime? It's almost certainly that they were just expressing a majority experience and nothing more.

And in this case, yeah, as I'm sure you've noticed from being on the opposite side of this, it is the majority experience. I don't recall ever seeing very many RPers who do not espouse having an issue with having their memes and aesthetics reblogged without some manner of (rules specified if they're not a dick) interaction/relationship with the other mun. (Such as "mutuals are okay to reblog" or "I expect reblog karma and practice it.")

I don't know if there has been an influx of newer RPers or those who have migrated from more relaxed areas of the RPC, but recently, there really has been an increase in at least my corners of muns being used as resource blogs when they do not wish to be. They've all expressed in their rules their particular boundaries for that, have made overall posts politely but firmly asking that people who do not write with them and haven't even read their rules not do this, and have gone directly to the worst offenders to ask them to stop. And it continues to happen. So, I imagine that is why you might be seeing an influx of PSAs about the matter in response.

For anyone watching this conversation that might not understand why some muns are so against this, some reasons are:

clogging up their notifications

the aesthetic was their picture, edit, quote, etc. and not meant to be shared off their blog/only by the partner(s) tagged in it

when you reblog from someone, their URL is obviously attached, spreading them to another dash full of people - they might like you, but not want some of your mutuals following to their blog

their muse doesn't get much interaction, but other muns keep reblogging memes/aesthetics from them when they won't write with them or send anything in

they feel used for the above reason or any variety of other reasons

I'm really sure you know that, Anon, but I think it's important that we all understand where we're coming from because there are so many different preferences and experiences. It's really not good enough to just feel like everyone can do whatever they want, so long as it isn't harassing anyone else/they're being respectful of others. Because can feel that way all we want to while still getting upset when we lack the understanding of preferences that are extremely different, or even in opposition to our own.

We can't effectively respect each other without that sort of understanding of even the things that annoy us, you know? So, I try to promote that understanding and explain things for people who might simply see this on their dash.

Like the "hobby not jobby" thing! I don't get that, I think it has some concerning IRL connotations people are not recognizing, and it's a great way to treat other muns like shit while justifying the behavior. It's in opposition to what I do not because it exists, but rather, because it is weaponized in order to excuse bad behavior and vilify muns who do not engage with the hobby in this way. It doesn't have to exist in hostile opposition to how I enjoy RP, the use of it has made it this way, is what I'm saying.

But I understand where it came from and what it means for the more rational, adult muns here who feel this way. To them, it's just that this is an ultra casual hobby. The way I engage with RP is like a full contact sport lol it requires a lot of effort and engagement, and the effort and engagement is fun. They way they engage with RP is an act of disengaging, it is more like what watching TV is for me - they're just here for some light, quick entertainment.

Understanding this difference is understanding that not everyone who feels so casually about RP is a jackass insisting that everyone else better feel the same way, that their way is the only correct and good way. I'm still not interested in writing with them, it's far too different for that to work out, but it allows for delineating who is enjoyable on my dash/OOC that is into casual RP and who needs to stay behind a block somewhere because they think anyone who has RP as a primary hobby is trying to ruin it for them somehow, attacking them by existing, and the following list of terrible things as a person.

I think that all problems in the RPC could be drastically mitigated by a combination of understanding and mutual respect. People who are alright with others treating them like a meme resource absolutely can and should interact with people who don't feel that way without a problem, for example - all that takes is being aware of your mutual's rules and respecting them.

Damn near 100% of the PSAs out there honestly should not ever have to exist, they come down to the same factors of just exercising some easy respect for each other.

Again, the trouble often comes in at those very differing factors we need to be mindful of. When we feel like the weird one out in the RPC constantly, whether something is actually othering us or not, it starts to feel like it is. We start finding reasons and evidence, and much of the time, at least among those whose first inclination isn't to label OP as various terrible shit as a person, that takes the form of "not everyone."

Well, of course, not everyone! But unfortunately, when we are of the minority opinion/experience, we sometimes have to just realize that very thing. It isn't personal, and that while someone has caused issues coming from this side with that difference, we are not for our mutuals, so this isn't about us. We're actually doing the thing the PSA is speaking of by not pushing our preferences on others. If that PSA is just speaking from a place of the majority experience and nothing more, we're just annoyed with it for that reason and nothing else when it comes right down to it. We're just kind of sick of being in the minority opinion on this issue, and now are geared to feel like we're being hounded by most PSAs.

It's not an easy thing to get over or work with, it's not even something that gets to be faultless, but it definitely makes the experience less irritating when we can get to a point of stepping back and analyzing the situation without those emotions intensely in play. Seriously, if I allowed the issues I have with most PSAs out there to be evident by reblogging them with refutations or anger? That's all I'd spend my time doing, that'd be my hobby and not actual RP...and I'd absolutely be the most hated and blocked mun on tumblr in short order no matter how valid my points were. (And, I think, with good reason, I really do not support reblogging that sort of thing with negative commentary.)

What helps? Make your own positive PSA about your experience! Make one of those "reblog if" posts, I have never seen one that says "reblog if...you are alright with your mutuals reblogging memes and aesthetics from you without reblog karma."

I'm being dead serious, I encourage you to do that! It's great when you're of the minority opinion and do something like that because you can literally see not only that you're not alone at all but also that it's made other people feel seen. If you do that, let me know, I'll reblog it, even.

[angeltrapz]

howdy 💙 chainshipping ask time: on days when they’re feelin bad, what do they do for the other person? also favorite date night activities? + th first moment post-bathroom where they each realized they’d fallen in love w th other?

hi!! 💜

ooh I think abt this a lot actually. I think th two of them have a tendency 2 bottle things up, so it kind of takes a lil bit fr them to realize tht Hey, Someone Wants To Make Sure I'm Okay and fr them 2 then get to a place where they share how they're rly doing rather than bein like "no everything's fine wdym :)" but once they Do get past tht n r able 2 be honest w each other, it's a lot better fr both of them + honestly its own form of healing.

a lot of th time when Adam's having a bad day, he's either nonverbal or responds w as short of an answer as possible, so th big thing Lawrence does fr him is just let him know he's there when/if he's ready 2 talk + there's no stress 2 tell him what's wrong right away. tht's smth tht's rly important to Adam, n smth he appreciates greatly. often times, along w tht, Adam tends 2 seek out physical contact - so like coming up behind Lawrence while he's cooking breakfast n wrapping his arms around him, holding his hand when they're walking together, sitting close enough so their knees/shoulders/hips brush + just leaning into Lawrence's side altogether, etc. so another thing they do is either cuddle up on th couch or in th bedroom n they watch a few movies together. sometimes Lawrence will read 2 him too. it's rly all abt proximity + lil actions tht in reality r a wordless way 2 say "I'm here, it's okay, we'll get thru this together." Lawrence is patient, doesn't rush him, n stays close by. fr Adam, tht is more than enough + means th world. n it eventually leads 2 him being more comfortable voicing how he feels more often!!

Lawrence's bad days r a lil harder to catch bc even tho he knows Adam's there, he still feels a pretty intense amount of guilt + doesn't often feel tht he has like. a right 2 complain? bc I think, fr a long time, he views himself as th one most responsible fr what happened in th bathroom n how they got there. it takes a while fr him to break out of tht mindset, but th main thing Adam reminds him of is he's still here. bc Lawrence spends a lot of time thinking like, "if I wasn't a bad person, Jigsaw wldn't have chosen me or put my family in danger, therefore it's my fault + I need 2 atone somehow." Adam is aware of this, n they've found tht th best solution is fr him 2 just b very blunt n ask "well was I a bad person? was I so horrible tht Jigsaw chose me based on tht n I deserved what happened next?" n of course Lawrence will immediately be like "no of course not??? nothing u cld've done cld warrant tht?" (kinda like th way u mentioned Adam comforts William) so Adam gets to respond w "tht applies 2 u too, u know. yr not a bad person. nothing you cld've done wld warrant smth like tht, either."

n Lawrence mentally bluescreens th first time he hears Adam say tht bc it's just like. He's Right. if he doesn't think Adam is a bad person + deserved wht happened, why did he? so tht's like th big thing Adam does fr Lawrence. he reassures him tht despite his brain's best efforts 2 convince him otherwise, he is a good person who Adam loves n tht might've made mistakes, but they didn't warrant being chained to a pipe in a fucking bathroom somewhere w his family in danger + being tasked 2 kill his now-bf, christ.

favourite date night activities!! I think they're mostly p lowkey fr th most part just bc of like, th unease of potentially being around A Lot Of Ppl, but every once in a while they'll dress up a lil bit n go somewhere nice fr dinner bc Lawrence is a hopeless romantic + he likes being able 2 do tht fr Adam sometimes. Adam thought it'd be like, wayyyy too stuffy + uncomfortable esp bc it's not smth he's used to, but honestly it's rly fun n they get to spend time together, so in th end it's all fine! plus there's never any pressure 2 like, go all out w dressing up or anything, so tht's nice too. honestly, if Adam wasn't so in love w Lawrence, th way he holds his hand over th table while they skim thru th menu + talk abt what sounds good might make him think he was somehow th main character of a romcom.

a lot of times, too, they frequent this local diner tht Adam used 2 go to fr breakfast all th time when he n Scott were teenagers bc it was relatively cheap, th food was good, + th staff was full of kind ppl. the lighting is lowkey n they usually have some sort of seasonal decorations around th place, n it's just somewhere Adam feels Safe, which of course leads 2 Lawrence feeling tht way abt it too. it's rly nice fr when they still want to go out, but don't rly want to put too much effort into it (tht's not to say th diner is low-quality tho!). they're there so often some of th servers know them by name + are friendly w them, so there's tht too!

their favourite, tho, is nights in where they order takeout or delivery so tht neither of them have 2 cook (Adam is getting better w it, tho Lawrence still cooks fr th majority of th time) n they can just relax. sometimes they lay a bunch of blankets on th floor n camp out there, sometimes they make a pillow fort bc why not, n sometimes they just grab their favourite blanket n curl up on th couch while watching random TV fr background noise or movies. Adam’s head always ends up on Lawrence’s shoulder at some point. Lawrence will have an arm around his shoulder. sometimes Adam will rest his legs across Lawrence’s lap. it’s just being close + enjoying some downtime tht they both rly appreciate.

as fr th first time they realized they were in love each other... in all honesty, fr Lawrence, it was pretty much th moment Adam finally woke up in th hospital n looked at him n said “you came back fr me.” (like yr text game Still Life is Exactly how I see it happening!!) however, th first time Lawrence rly became CONSCIOUS of tht feeling n was able 2 put a name to it was honestly so simple and yet so meaningful. it was Adam standing in his kitchen th morning after he’d spent th night bc he cldn’t get to sleep on his own, too worked up n on edge n afraid 2 be alone.

it’s Adam in only a faded n too-big t-shirt n boxers trying 2 figure out how to use Lawrence’s keurig. it’s th sunlight streaming in frm th window above th sink n framing Adam’s face n turning his eyes this bright honey-green when Lawrence catches them. he’s in th middle of washing the dishes bc he’d been meaning to since th night b4, watching as Adam moves around n learns th placement of everything, his presence so natural-feeling tht it’s hard fr Lawrence to even imagine tht he hasn’t always been there. and then Adam turns 2 look at him bc he can feel him staring, his hands curled around a mug of hot coffee, eyes still half-lidded w remnants of sleep n hair a wild unruly mess, and he smiles - tht is when Lawrence truly realizes tht he loves him. he cldn’t imagine his life w/ out Adam in it. he can hardly remember how it felt to live w/ out him. tht’s when he knows.

I think fr Adam, th moment he became truly aware of how much he loved Lawrence was actually during one of his bad days where he was stuck in th mental bathroom, unable get out of his own head fr much longer than a few minutes at a time. he had gone mostly nonverbal n found the energy needed 2 keep up a conversation was just not smth he had, but instead of Lawrence being irritated by tht fact, he was going out of his way 2 be like, “I know yr not doing well, n tht’s okay, if u want 2 talk to me I’m here but if u don’t I’ll still b here anyways.” n tht’s like smth tht’s so foreign to Adam, ppl being willing 2 understand his struggles w things like speech n eye contact if he’s distressed + who don’t try 2 force him to power thru it, so tht first time he’s just sitting there on th couch, leaning against Lawrence’s side w/ his legs tucked up underneath him n w his weighted blanket covering them both, watching Lawrence fill out th crossword in th daily newspaper n just kinda coasting tht line between being present n checking out, he’s just like. Huh. This Is Nice.

bc no one’s ever rly offered tht kind of accommodation 2 him? esp not his parents, which is part of wht I mentioned earlier abt his tendency to bottle things up. neither of them have 2 say anything; it’s just comfy, reassuring, sitting so close + sharing a space while maintaining a comfortable silence bc Adam doesn’t think he can explain yet. n he looks up at Lawrence’s face, tracing th heavy line of his furrowed brows as he concentrates hard abt whatever word it is he’s trying 2 figure out, th tip of his tongue peeking out btwn his lips as he squints, occasionally mouthing a word or two, n tht’s kind of when it hits him. it’s just kind of like an internal ah, I see. Lawrence doesn’t mind tht he’s like this. he doesn’t badger him fr answers or expect him 2 be th perfect image of good mental health n is perfectly content 2 just sit w/ him as he rides it out. tht’s when Adam really gets tht this is love.

tysm fr this ask I had so much fun w it <3

[modern-oedipus]

Covid Vent

No one: Nila, who goes out maybe once in a month due to covid: *listens to coffee shop sounds in youtube to get in mood*  It’s really hard to maintain social isolation now that it has been 5 months. But the cases are going up and up and up, hitting my friends and their families. I myself had to split houses with my mother because she had covid cases in her work place. I don’t think I’d isolate myself this much if I wasn’t in the risk group, but I am. Knowing that I am most likely to go to intensive care and experience the trouble breathing again like I did during the asthma treatment is not good. The potential permanent damage on lungs, for someone like me whose lungs are already more prone to sickness compared to healthy people, is also a big no, considering that I’m only in my early twenties and if everything goes well and I live a normal life I’d live around 50 more years.  50 more years with a disability or isolating myself at home? Isolation, obviously. But this pandemic doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. I am only indoors because both my internships are online & college hasn’t started yet. I know that I’ll eventually have to go out if my college doesn’t switch to online education. It doesn’t scare me at all, though, I am not like, “anxious”. I’m concerned, disturbed, alert, but not in a paranoid anxiety. If I end up catching covid, I’m at least mentally prepared to deal with it. I’m also eating healthy and exercising and don’t really have health problems except for that past-lung-treatments that more or less put me to a risk group (risky enough to concern me, even though I don’t have a chronic illness), so who knows, I might just pass it like a flu as well. No one knows. It’s not good overthinking covid, all I can do is to keep social distancing & mask & hygiene, as always. I’m just so suffocated. I’m more prone to be an extrovert. Before pandemic, I’d only use my house to sleep I’d keep being out in public, attending events, ORGANIZING events, going to coffee shops, club meetings, lots and lots of stage plays, tours, everything. I’d sneak into my friends’ dorms and change cities and just so many more “normal” fun things. I was barely starting to enjoy my life again after the depression healed. Now, I’m mentally ok, but physically trapped. The “watch netflix, read books, stay home” thing is kind of overdosing me right now. I like this shit for a week maybe, not for 5 months. I don’t know how to not risk my mental health while keeping my physical health anymore. Of course, to even HAVE a mental health I need to stay alive, so I’m not complaining- health care workers, people who go to job everyday (including my parents), etc. are in such a harder situation. I know. But my own life is also valid, and while not as troubling and concerning as lives of others right now, well, I think I’m still worth caring, at least by myself. I don’t expect any extra outside compassion or validation (we all are in same situation), me writing my thoughts here is more of me just trying to see my thoughts being worded on screen so that maybe I can come up with a solution to these things as I go. Because I’ve always been a problem-solver rather than just merely venting. (I can’t always solve problems though, I need to work on accepting this fact.) Anyway, I just thought, maybe spending more time outdoors in the natural park that is close to my house could be a good thing. But it’s crowded since it’s outdoors and I really don’t want to share any commonly used areas right now. (I used to be more than okay with this before covid, as I said, I’m mostly extroverted and I like community gatherings, but I like being healthy more), so like... Idk, maybe I can just sort of have phone calls and videochats with my friends as I sit outdoors. Except I don’t even know I have that many friends anymore. I mean, I do- I surely do have bestest of friends in my life that I’m grateful for, but like. I am somehow an introvert magnet and while I’d die for most of my best friends (both irl and online) I don’t really think they are as hype about just chatting as often as I am. (I know that this doesn’t mean they love me any less. They love me in their own way & I love them in their own way so that’s OK.) So like. Maybe Nila, have this BRILLIANT idea of making more friends. Except. Like. You’re at home so you aren’t in much of social gatherings [you aren’t in any! That is insane!] and you don’t really know how to make friends from home. I mean, yes there are online friends but like. EVEN WITH THEM. How can I just *trust* them right away? I can’t, so like. I don’t know. I’m bored af.  On the bright side, today one of my bff from school called me and said he’s back in town and that we should catch up, he’s literally one of the greatest company ever and he wants to see the doggo, so I’m positive we can just have hour 9242309204 hours long in-depth chats again without getting bored (amazing to have people like that in my life). Anyway. I guess the moral of this is:

- I need to accept “the new normal”

- I need to protect myself but try to keep my mental health as good as possible because I like myself more when my mental health is fine and I can also come up with better creations then

- I need to finish my course work (internship) so that I can relax before school starts

- I need to spend more time outdoors but in isolated areas (good luck finding them!) 

- I need to recharge

- I “want to” make more friends or just check up on existing ones! I can’t use the word “need” for this because this would degrade the freedom of the other party. Friends are appreciated, and to some extend, a necessity for social creatures like us, but no “need” will make it happen. I will just make an effort to check up on my existing friends more frequently-- I’m quite selective at this, though, I prefer generally upbringing people who are mature to a certain extend (aka, no obsession, no passive-aggression. yes to personal boundaries, yes to an overall nice attitude [we all can have problems and that’s ok and that’s normal. what /I/ personally don’t wish to be around [with my all respect] is this mindset of “life is a disaster let’s be depressed” thing. I just love love my current friend circle because even if my close friends are just around 7 people, and even if we get depressed or sad or scared, our general look to life is nicer, we don’t make disasters out of regular days, we enjoy talking and chatting, which overall increases our life quality and makes it better. We also communicate & respect & listen to each other and all. I mean. It’s not like that with everyone, and that’s ok, but as I said, this is my personal preference. I prefer having bonds that are good rather than toxic and I am doing my best to be equally good, rather than being toxic to my friends. [I’m sorry I post a lot of Banana Fish to those who don’t know Banana Fish, ok. I know ur bored but like I just cannot help it. I’m trying to tone it down but BANANA FISH.] sOOOOOOOO, SOOOO that’s why it’s not how “i have 29420343204 friends uwu” mindset, like, I noticed I need to be reasonably picky with those I’m close to so that I and people I love can overall have a nice, fun days, which is point of friendship. (I mean. As I said. I’m here on bad days too. But I don’t feel mentally healthy enough to carry the burden of someone else’s depression. It hasn’t even been two months since I’m out of therapy yet, and my mental health is, while not bad, it is fragile. I’d rather not be around those who can [mostly, unwillingly] effect me badly. SO LIKE.  - that’s one hell of a long post nila, but long story short FRIENDS or you’ll die out of boredom

- also just finish your coursework i beg you

- thanks for coming to my ted talk, I actually always offer potential solutions on my vent posts, but this time i wanted to write this publicly [i dont think anyone will read this and i dont mind it] because like. why not? it’s just me thinking and I feel as if this could be of use for some people who are reading this & isolating themselves too. anyway, i love u, stay safe. 

[maki0725]

I’ve finished the 10th part! Though it’s only one-third...?

I’m planning to rewrite and post on AO3 the parts I’ve posted here.

***************************************

This morning Simon wakes up at a time that is barely morning. He can also see where he is. There are only two days left for the New Year holidays, including today. He feels relieved and a little lonely that he can safely return to his daily life from the day and night reversal. He drank a decent amount last night, and he noticed that both the 720ml bottle and the 1.8l bottle were empty. He isn’t sure how much he drank, but if Gavin stopped drinking, he would have done so, so maybe half and half? There is a myth that good sake does not cause a hangover, but for the amount he drank, he did not have a hangover and is fine. He even remember taking a bath again before going to bed and looking at the night view from the jacuzzi.

"Good morning"

Upon entering the living room, Gavin is sitting at the same kitchen counter as yesterday. Perhaps he is still wearing sleepwear today, he wears a black fluffy hoodie that looks like a sheep on a white T-shirt and wears long pants made of the same material as the hoodie. Music is playing from somewhere.

"……Good morning"

"Eh⁉︎"

Gavin makes his eyes round.

"What"

"Blackquill, do you say “good morning” in the morning?"

"What do you think of me?"

Indeed, it is true that he hesitated for a moment to return the greeting. However, there is no other way to reply.

"I didn’t think you are a normal person."

"I’m sorry to be normal"

"It's not bad .... Yeah, you used to look nice"

"You have always been flashy."

Simon and Gavin became prosecutors at the same time. However, they had barely talked. Gavin became a star as soon as he became a prosecutor, and he spent very little time at the prosecutor's office. On the other hand, Simon studied psychology in addition to work and visited the Space Center frequently, and had no time to interact with the fellow prosecutors, and did not want to do so particularly.

The impressions of each other are nothing more than a distant view. Gavin’s first court was a legend in a sense, but Simon abandoned everything in this world before hearing his impressions in person.

The music that is playing seems to be part of a radio show, with a disc jockey talking about what's called the "ideal New Year."

"Do you want to have something? I don’t have anything special ......"

The New Year's dishes prepared by Gavin were almost eaten yesterday. he offers Simon some bread and side dishes that Gavin bought for himself while new year shopping.

"Can I get them?"

"Yeah, it's better to eat them together. Is it okay for you to have bread from New Year?"

"I'll eat anything"

Even if he was at home, he doesn’t think he had something special. He thinks that at best he puts grilled meat on rice bowl. If he wanted to, he might have prepared Zoni.

"What's this lever?"

"It's a pork rillette. It's delicious when applied to baguettes. I want to have a glass of wine, but I think I should stop it."

There is also a big table, but breakfast is served at the bar counter, which could be used for light meals. Water is prepared on the counter, and Gavin says that Simon can have whichever he likes, carbonated water and ordinary ones, but both are in unfamiliar glass bottles that seem to be imported. He pours it into a glass and drinks it and it certainly tastes good.

French and Italian dishes that he doesn’t usually eat——according to Gavin’s explanation——-are the main ones, but they are all good.

The room is air-conditioned, and Gavin is wearing a T-shirt with his hoodie off.

The hair is lightly tied up and has gold lagging hair on the nape.

"What's wrong?"

"No .... what do you do your hair?"

It is more like an excuse to look at his hair than a serious question, but he used to have short hair in Simon’s memory.

"Are you talking about having it cut? ... Well, sometimes I think I'll cut it, but somehow it's just as it is. It would be hard if yours was so long?"

"I'm used to it"

Certainly there is annoyance. Sometimes his sister and Athena tell him to cut it, but he let them pass. He originally doesn’t care about the appearance, but somehow he doesn’t feel like cutting it until the phantom case is over. However, he doesn’t know what can be said to have been solved and whether he can know that. Perhaps he can never square it forever.

He can't say the story up to that point right now, and from the perspective of Gavin,Simon would remain silent. But he doesn’t seem to care.

"I think it's about time that your laundry is ready, so I'm going to see it."

With that said, he stood up after cleaning up the empty dishes.

"I feel bad. I'll clean it up."

"Thank you, you just need to put everything in the dishwasher .... can you see that there?"

It is his first time to use a dishwasher. There is plenty of room to put tableware for two people at appropriate intervals. His sister's house also had a dishwasher, but the one installed here is much larger. A situation like a home party may also be envisioned. Of course, there is no such thing at his own home. He never even wanted it.

He doesn’t think that the amount of tableware they used now is enough to require a machine. However, neither sponge nor detergent is found in the sink. Perhaps the landlord has no time to wash the dishes. Together with laundry service, it seems like a really reasonable choice.

"Thank you for cleaning up, your clothes has been ready"

Fang Ryu is back with a bag of cleaned clothes.

"Thank you"

He receives a bag from Gavin. Once he changes your clothes, it's a good time to leave here.

After returning to the guest room, he takes out the cleaned clothes and changes. He has been wearing the same since he ordered it when he became a prosecutor, but he doesn’t care about it. When he went to the store that his grandfather used to go to make this outfit, this surcoat was added according to his sister's advice, "Because you're young, don't be fooled." After he bought it, he remember being frustrated when he was told that she didn’t think he really bought it.

He puts on all his clothes and returns to the living room with his luggage. Gavin also changed into a black hoodie and casual cargo pants.

"Shall I drive you home? Where is your house?"

Simon’s home is the official residence of the prosecutor's office. It is very old, the facilities are outdated and there are few residents. However, it is large enough and the location is good. In addition to those, the rent is also cheap. Isn't it less than a tenth of this house? If it were for rent.

He just walked home from here just a week ago, and he doesn’t feel the necessity of a ride. However, he is also reluctant to refuse Gavin’s kindness.

As he crawls around, he can hear the radio talking that was left unattended.

"Then I'll introduce you to an email,'My unforgettable New Year is a hot spring trip. Soak in the hot springs slowly, forget about your daily fatigue, and eat delicious food ... Oh, I want to go there again!" Hey hot spring, ... "

"I haven't been to a hot spring at all ... You seem to like it."

Asked by Gavin. Of course he likes hot springs, but he hasn’t been to soaking relaxed after his release. At best, it's a public bath, and bathing here is the most luxurious.

When he tells him that, Gavin makes his eyes round. Then he laughs as if he came up with something.

"If you like, we’re going to go now? I think we can go in 2 hours one way."

"Is it okay?"

"of course!"

The blue eyes smiles like a child.

They take the highway from the city center and head south. Maybe it's because of Simon’s feelings, but he feels that all the cars that come and go are looking at their car. More than being an eye-catching luxury car, it seems that the reason is driving like a moving road traffic law that never exceeds the speed limit. It's not be tailgated, but he feels like they are overtaken by almost every car.

"You are so square......"

"I'm not slow, everyone is too fast."

Gavin shrugs. They are riding a two-seater sports car, not the day before yesterday's large car. The manufacturer is different, but this is also a German car.

"If you drive at the speed limit with this car, it will stand out."

"I'm used to it"

It is said that this car has been a favorite car for many years. Perhaps because the height of the car was relatively low, it seemed that the feel of the road surface was more vivid than the large car the day before yesterday, but all of them were comfortable to sit in, unlike police cars and convoy cars.

The car goes through a winding road in the city center like a racing game course and enters a wide road. Simon finds that he crosses the river on the prefectural border. After running for a while from there, the proportion of green in the field of vision gradually increases. In spite of the difference of the direction, he remembers when he was attending the Space Center. He remembers picking his sister up several times in her car.

Simon is not very familiar with high-speed nets, so the road is left to Gavin. He doesn’t use car navigation, but he doesn’t get lost. The main roads seem to be in his head.

It seems that this car also has a high-quality stereo, and various music is played, from songs that also Simon is familiar with to songs that he doesn’t know at all. The conversation is choppy, but the music and engine sounds complements it nicely.

The car goes down the freeway well before the destination, passes through a short toll road, and then enters the general road. There is still a distance to the famous hot spring area where he said he would go here, but it seems that Gavin intentionally chose that route. Shortly after getting off the highway, the car comes to the road by the sea. On the road that runs right next to the coast, he can see the sea unobstructed from the left side where he is sitting.

"Is this road good? You can see Mt. Fuji too."

Exactly, the silhouette of a snow-capped mountain is floating in front of him. Simon is told that they can open the roof of the car, but he refuses because he wants to avoid making it stand out any more. Gavin seems to be more cautious, but today he wears a black baseball cap and sunglasses, so at first glance almost anyone may not be able to tell who he is.

He asks a reflexive question to a pop song that came from a car stereo.

"Is this your song?"

The voices seem to be very similar. It is an English song, and he doesn’t think it is Japanese singer at all, but that was the case at that time. Only about 10 days ago, when he sang just for Simon.

"Yeah, it's a popular duo in the 80's. This is a pretty hit song."

Gavin smiles when Simon tells him that he thought it was his voice.

"Is his voice similar to mine? It was often said. I've covered this song, but it's still not as good as the real thing."

"Don’t you play your " real "song?"

He casually asks the question that comes to his mind. He isn’t confident that he could hear all the songs played today, but it didn't seem like they were.

"Um ... you mean the Gavinners’ song, right?"

There seems to be a slight tension in his voice.

"I can’t hear it yet .... Daryan’s guitar. I'm sorry."

Thinking about it, it is a matter of course. The gentle tone rather reveals the hidden sadness.

"I’m sorry"

"... Don't worry. I have too many things like this. If you can't talk about my family, my band, or my friends, it’s natural to be estranged. I don’t feel like meeting my friends, so it's okay. "

Oh, I'm not saying you're not a friend, Gavin laughs. Simon, who has never had a close friend, can answer nothing.

Simon wonders how much Daryan Crescend was to him. He can’t imagine.

Looking out the window, the winter sea just below the road is shining in the sunlight.

"Isn't this beautiful? It's a lot of inspiration."

"Is that so"

Simon, who had never thought of creating something, doesn’t quite understand it, but that's what artists are.

Even though it's midwinter, he can see some people who seem to be surfing.

When he says that there are some whimsical people Gavin laughs and says that he used to come.

"There used to be a villa owned by my family, near here."

This is close to the historically famous summer resort. There’s no wonder that the Gavins have one of the villas.

The car breaks from the road by the sea and heads north, gradually entering the deep green mountains. There is a target hot spring area a little further away. The sports car, which probably doesn’t perform at half its performance because it is owned by Gavin is still heading for its destination with a solid run. After getting off the highway and climbing up and down the winding mountain road, Gavin’s car arrived at the hot spring facility in the mountains.

"I came here for shooting a long time ago, and I liked it so I came by myself a few times, but it's the first time I've come with someone."

It may be unconscious, but Gavin seems to be really good at catching the hearts of others. There are few people who don't feel good because they think they are treated specially by Klavier Gavin. However, it may be that only the minority are around him right now.

"The view from the large communal bath is nice, but the melting hot water is nice."

"That's good"

Each person has a different taste of hot springs, but the quality of the hot spring cannot be surrendered for Simon. That point seems to get along with Gavin.

"And it’s always empty"

"That’s good, but you don't know how long you can come here."

"Let's contribute a little"

They pass through the gate while cracking jokes. After completing the one-day bathing procedure at the reception, they head to the dressing room immediately. In addition to the large communal bath, there’s the private family bath for free if it is vacant, so there is an entrance to the family bath in the middle of the corridor leading to the large communal bath, but there seem to be other guests so the bill in use is hung.

In the spacious dressing room, there is only one young man in addition to Simon and Gavin. Perhaps he’s already up, he is wearing clothes at a distance.

Simon himself didn't mind taking off his clothes in front of others because of his unfortunate experience in prison, but what about Gavin? When Simon glances at him, Gavin had taken off his clothes at an amazing speed. He may be accustomed to changing clothes in public.

"Then, I’m ahead!"

He quickly has become naked and heads for the entrance to the bathhouse with his towel in his hand. Simon took a long time to unbutton and has only taken off his upper body clothes.

Suddenly, Simon feels a strange look. He is sensitive to disturbing signs, though it doesn't seem to be aimed at him. He immediately confirms another customer. He holds his smartphone in a strange way and points it at Gavin. A thick index finger touches the edge of the screen, and a faint shutter sound is heard between the fingers holding the speaker so that it is difficult to hold.

His body moves before he thinks. He grabs the wrist of a young man looking shy and twists it up.

"Ah ..."

A smartphone falls on a floor lined with bamboo and makes a dull noise.

"……What's wrong?"

Gavin, who noticed the uneasy air, asks.

"Get dressed"

"......!”

Gavin takes a breath.

"Fully"

"Got it"

Simon turns to the voyeur and looks down at his horrified face. The eyes behind the glasses with a white round face are almost crying.

"Oh, oh ..."

He picks up the smartphone while feeling the soft touch of the man's wrist with one hand. Looking at it, the camera is still running, and he can see the image just taken at the bottom left of the screen.

"Which do you like a broken phone or the police? I let you choose”

".......”

"Wait, "

Gavin, who has worn all his clothes, approaches and touches Simon’s back. A quiet voice echoes.

"I can't make you a criminal."

"Well, then the police are the only ones."

"Wait a minute. Can you show me that smartphone?"

Gavin picks up a smartphone that has fallen to the floor.

"I'll check it. Okay?"

Gavin glances at the man who nods and quickly checks the photo folder from the camera app that is still running. Simon can’t see the contents from where he is, but Gavin has a rugged expression from beginning to end.

"You seem not to have done camera voyeurism except me."

"I haven't done it! That devil has just inserted ... y-you are so beautiful ..."

The man is desperate. He may have felt the possibility of being overlooked.

"Sure, it's not in the image folder on this smartphone. But ... I can't confirm this alone. There may be other smartphones and cameras. I'll contact the front desk and the police. ProsecutorBlackquill, can you bring him for me?"

The man's pale face gets dyed in despair.

When Simon, the current criminal arrester, has finished preparing the record and leaves the office at the back of the reception, Gavin, who had already been interviewed, is sitting on the bench in the corridor. He’s wearing a cap over his eyes. Considering that it is a customer business, there are no police officials in the public eye. On-site verification was also processed quickly and neatly. The time is already close to the evening.

"Sorry, the day has been ruined ..."

"It's not your fault."

What is bad at all is the voyeur demon.

"There was nothing in the image folder that seemed to be a voyeur other than me. It may be true that the devil was inserted. You see, I'm beautiful."

Gavin jokingly says, but Simon doesn’t laugh. Gavin smiles bitterly.

"So it wouldn't have been a hassle if I pretended not to see it."

"You can't do it, right?"

"... I don't know. I might have missed it in the past. But in Diane's case ... I helped the smuggling because of my abuse of authority, so I haven't been able to do it flexibly since then."

Gavin laughs powerlessly, saying that the detectives may hate him because I can only do stiff things according to the rules.

"Isn't it just more victims if you missed him now?"

The bitter memory of missing the phantom revives in the Simon’s heart. Had he had a little more courage, the future could have been completely different.

"You haven't done anything wrong. Be proud."

"Yeah ... you helped me repeatedly. I'm sorry, it's no longer a hot spring."

Suddenly, Simon notices a guide to a family bath. Luckily it's free. He grabbed Gavin’s arm and lets him stand, and pushes him in half forcibly.

"Is it safe here?"

Gavin rolls his eyes. Usually, it's not a place where friends would enter. However, this is probably the best in terms of security.

"I'll wash your back”

Winking seemingly annoying, Gavin puts his luggage down and puts a "in use" tag on the door.

By the time they leave the hot spring facility, the sun has completely set. Police vehicles have also left.

"By the way, I feel hungry."

It's been a while since they ate breakfast in the morning. Simon couldn't afford to feel hungry because of his unscheduled work, but he feels that his appetite suddenly grows, probably because of the sense of security that he has settled down. It may be time to eat.

"I have a restaurant I wanted to go to, can you go out with me? Of course I’ll treat."

"No, I’ll pay"

Simon was served such a gorgeous New Year dishes, and if he didn’t pay for only one meal there would be a mark against him. He can't imagine what kind of restaurant it is, but it seems that even if the cash he has isn’t enough, it wouldn't exceed the limit of the credit card he rarely use.

Gavin searches for something on his smartphone, says, "I think this is good," and then enters something in the car navigation system. He probably hasn’t been there because he says"I want to go".

They return from the hot springs in the mountains to the suburbs. There aren't many cars on New Year's night. Gavin seems not to have made a reservation, but is there a store in such a place that they can go to suddenly in the New Year?

"Oh, there is"

At the end of Gavin’s line of sight is conveyor belt sushi.

After parking the car in the parking lot, they sit at the table. This kind of restaurant is often crowded, but fortunately they were able to sit down immediately.

Gavin looks curiously looking at the sushi that comes around and the seasonal menu that is posted. He is s also surprised to be able to order his favorite sushi on the touch panel. He gets also excited about the system where the bullet train runs on the upper part of the lane and delivers the ordered items, which would be a production for children.

Simon has been taken to the conveyor belt sushi by Athena several times, so he has a rough idea of ​​how it works. It's usually the same in different stores (He has never seen the bullet train.).

Gavin takes some of the standard items that have come around, challenges individual orders, and then checks the limited items on the touch panel. Suddenly, he seems to have an idea.

"This looks delicious. Can we share one for each?"

“…………!”

"Oh, was it a violation of manners? Excuse me”

"No, I don't think so, it's a good idea."

He has just felt a little too intimate. It's possible between family members, but he has never shared one pair of sushi even with Athena, but rather she took a plate or emptied it, and as soon as she ate it, she took the next plate or received her order. When her best friend was present, she said she didn't know if she could eat a plate, and Athena cheerfully declared, "I'll eat half!", and as a result, they shared a pair of sushi one for each.

"I was wondering if we could share in such a casual place, but I don't know much about this, so it would be helpful if you could tell me if something was wrong"

What kind of position do you think you are in the line that you should not do that other than me?

"It's not strange, if you don't mind it one another, there’s no problem”

"Then, can I order the monkfish livers?"

Gavin squints happily when he sees Simon nodding. It’s not bad to share a small happiness of about 100 yen per plate.

*********************************************

Washing one’s back is not sexual at all, it’s a kind of communication like grandpa and grandson(or seniors and juniors, there is a clear distinction between the seniors and the juniors even if the age difference is a little.).

[fancifulbutsensiblething]

Adventures in Auditory Agony

So I recently made a playlist of absolutely horrible music to drive around to, and the image of Ronan and Blue terrorizing the others with it popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this entirely self-indulgent fic to go along with the playlist. It’s v silly and also my first foray into writing TRC content, but...here we are.

Post-TRK/Pre-Epilogue Bronan friendship and gangsey shenanigans, rated T, read on ao3

In the week following Gansey’s graduation, something strange happened.

He hadn’t wanted to leave for a week, not when he was going to be leaving Henrietta so soon anyway. He’d disliked the plan even more when Maura had insisted Blue couldn’t go with him, that if she was going on this road trip with him and Henry, the Fox Way ladies needed to take advantage of every moment they had with her. Gansey couldn’t begrudge Maura time with her daughter, just as he couldn’t blame his own mother for wanting him to spend a little time with the rest of the Gansey clan before he took off again.

So he acquiesced to his mother’s demand-phrased-as-a-polite-request that he would spend a few days at home, on the condition that he could bring Adam along. Adam was even less thrilled than Gansey at the prospect of leaving Henrietta, especially when he knew Ronan wouldn’t come with them, especially especially when he remembered the last time he’d visited D.C. But Gansey desperately wanted company, and with Henry visiting his mother, Adam was the only option left, and he knew it. Besides, at Gansey’s suggestion, they’d added a few extra days for visiting some of the colleges Adam was applying to.

(Neither of them mentioned that the idea of some quality time together—just the two of them—before they each went their separate ways for the foreseeable future was an appealing one. They both thought it.)

The plan was met with mixed feelings by every party involved, but it went off without a hitch, and four family dinners, three college visits, two breakdowns in the Pig, and one emotional late-night heart to heart later, the two boys had returned to Henrietta.

For a while, Gansey noticed nothing amiss.

The first night back was a game night. As usual, Blue somehow managed to beat everyone at Super Smash Bros. despite passing up actually learning how to play in favor of smashing buttons at random. As usual, Adam was alarmingly good at Monopoly. As usual, Ronan got bored before they could finish a round and insisted on playing Cards Against Humanity instead. As usual, Gansey was terrible at every game but nonetheless seemed to have the most fun.

The next day was spent split off in pairs. Gansey spent some time at 300 Fox Way, helping out around the house and good-naturedly tasting Maura’s experimental teas before Blue got fed up with Orla, who was not in the least deterred from her usual flirtatiousness by the official nature of their relationship, and dragged him out of the house to 1) go for a drive, 2) make out in the back seat of the Pig, and 3) explore a local farmer’s market. The rest of the day was spent at Monmouth Manufacturing, though Adam and Ronan were nowhere to be seen. Ronan had been spending more nights at St. Agnes than Monmouth, though, so Gansey wasn’t surprised. All went as usual.

It was on his second full day back that Gansey realized something had happened during his week away.

After a lazy morning, everyone was gathered once more at Monmouth Manufacturing to go for a trip to the Barns. Ronan had volunteered to drive the BMW.

Adam and Gansey followed the other two as they headed out of the apartment, watching amusedly at the scene unfolding. Blue had thrown herself sideways into Ronan, and despite her size, she’d managed to knock him off balance for a moment.

“Hey, asshole, cut it out,” he growled, mussing the colorfully clipped mess of her hair affectionately.

Blue huffed and attempted to shove his hand away. He redoubled his efforts. She ducked away, but he followed, and it quickly escalated into a chaotic tussle.

“‘M gonna shave it all off,” came Blue’s muffled voice from behind Ronan’s arm, “just to spite you.”

Adam laughed. The sound made Gansey grin.

“I’d shave it for you if you asked nicely.”

“No way. It’s a punishment, not a reward.” By this time she had freed herself and was grinning breathlessly back at him as she jogged up to the Beemer.

Then Blue climbed in shotgun.

Ronan was unfazed by this. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gansey saw rather than heard him answering her quip.

Gansey, however, was not unfazed. And neither was Adam, if the slight frown and amused quirk of his lips when he turned to meet Gansey’s eyes was any indication.

Gansey could only shrug and follow Adam into the back seat.

Blue rode shotgun in the Camaro more frequently than Ronan or Adam did these days, and on the rare occasion that any of them ended up in Adam’s piece of shit car, she had as fair a shot as either of the others. But if Ronan was driving, it had always been Gansey or, more recently, Adam in the front. It wasn’t that Blue and Ronan weren’t close—they were just about as close now as any of them, and it made Gansey’s heart feel like it was swelling up three times it’s regular size, like the Grinch’s in the old cartoon he and Helen used to watch every December. But Blue had never attempted riding shotgun in the Beemer if either of the others were along, and Ronan had never asked her to, and something about it felt significant when she casually swung herself into the front seat.

It was practiced, Gansey realized as he buckled his seatbelt. It was easy. What had Ronan and Blue gotten up to while he and Adam were away?

He didn’t have to wonder long.

Ronan wordlessly tossed Blue his phone, and she hooked it up to the aux that he’d dreamt to work in the BMW. This, too, was practiced and easy. Blue even knew his phone password.

Just as they screeched out of the parking lot, some kind of music that Gansey could only call aggressive blasted through the speakers. It wasn’t the murder squash song, which he appreciated, but it also wasn’t all that much better. It was all angry electric music and yelling and loud, so loud, but Blue and Ronan were both yelling the words and head-banging, which he had never seen from either of them. It was so strange, he had to glance over at Adam for confirmation that he wasn’t hallucinating. Adam stared back at him wide-eyed.

For a while they only watched in silence, and Gansey almost felt as though he were intruding on some kind of private ritual until Blue turned and began to teasingly sing some of the lyrics of the next song—a horrible, upbeat electronic sounding one—at him. From the few lyrics he could understand, it was about carrying out a relationship over the phone. It was more than a little pointed, and he found himself blushing at some of the more explicit lyrics.

Some of his discomfort evaporated when she laughed delightedly at him and returned to dancing in her seat, replaced by fascination.

Finally, Adam broke in, yelling to be heard over the music, “Can someone please explain what is going on?”

Ronan met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shouted back, “We’re going to the Barns, Parrish. Where have you been?”

“Or do you just mean like, the state of the world today?” Blue asked, turning to face him. “Because you will not believe what’s going on with climate change.”

“I mean the state of my good ear, which is on the verge of becoming my other bad ear. The hell are we listening to?”

Blue lowered the volume just enough that they could speak without having to shout, warding off Ronan’s dirty look with one of her own. “Our playlist. I wanted to name it “emo to the excreamo,” but Ronan kept insisting on names that were objectively terrible and we couldn’t compromise so now it’s a sad nameless little playlist.”

“For the record, ‘songs to commit crimes to’ is the perfect name.”

“It doesn’t make sense! I can’t commit ecoterrorism while blasting Britney Spears.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t. You probably shouldn’t even fucking bother with the ecoterrorism if you aren’t gonna blast Britney Spears while you do it.”

Gansey’s head was spinning. “There’s Britney Spears on this playlist?”

“Obviously,” Blue shot back over her shoulder. It did not seem obvious to Gansey given that the current song was some kind of angry electric rock and that the playlist had been made by Ronan Lynch and Blue Sargent, but then again, nothing else about their current situation had seemed obvious to him ten minutes ago, either.

“I can’t blast anything as bop-worthy as Britney Spears, or I’ll get caught and then I won’t be able to commit more ecoterrorism.” This Blue directed at Ronan. “You must be a terrible criminal.”

“Fine. ‘Songs to get murdered to’ works just as well.”

Blue punched him in the arm. “That’s insensitive! Gansey’s been murdered!”

Ronan barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah, by you and your kiss of death, Maggot.”

“For the record,” Gansey interjected, “Jane’s kiss of death was vastly preferable to the thousands of hornet stings.”

“What a compliment.” Adam raised an eyebrow and looked from Gansey to Blue.

Ronan snickered. “Congrats, Sargent. Kissing you is slightly better than getting stung to death.”

Blue’s reply was interrupted by the sound of “it’s Britney, bitch,” from the stereo, which sent her scrambling to set the volume to its previous ear-bleeding level.

They carried on like this for a while, Ronan pushing 20 over the speed limit and Blue scream-singing lyrics to songs that almost all had to do with sex, cars, or both. Gansey thought the one about a dreamer in a Beemer seemed a little on the nose, and sentiment Adam voiced moments later.

“I can’t help it if I’m someone’s muse,” came the reply. Blue snorted loudly, and Ronan reached over and pinched her on the exposed skin between the top of her knee socks and her ripped shorts. She slapped his hand and squirmed away.

At one point, Blue sang (if you could call it that, when it was really closer to talking or shouting but set to music) the intro to a song that began, “Hey you lil piss baby,” leaning across the center console to get in Ronan’s face, without missing a single word. In fact, Gansey realized, she knew at least some (if not most) of the words to all of these songs, and he wondered just how many times they’d listened to them together.

The fact that they had coordinated dance moves and established which of them sang specific parts when there were back and forth elements solidified for him that the answer was…many, many times.

This coordination was amusing for the most part. An amused smirk played across Adam’s lips as he watched their stupid dances, and Gansey was just ruminating on how happy and carefree both of them seemed, open in a way he rarely saw from either of them, when their performance jolted him out of his reverie.

Blue was moaning. Loudly.

It was part of the song, of course, the singer’s desire to — like rabbits, with a moan in place of an expletive, blaring over and over through the speakers. Ronan was singing along with the rest of the lyrics. Blue contributed the…interjectory sounds, and apparently took this role very seriously.

When her eyes, glinting mischievously, met his in the rearview mirror, he realized she was doing this on purpose. To mess with him. His mouth finally caught up to his brain, and he spluttered a scandalized, “Jane!”

She threw her head back and cackled gleefully. Ronan fist-bumped her. Gansey’s face felt hot.

“I think you’ve become a bad influence, Lynch,” Adam shouted, but he was failing to suppress his smile.

“If anything,” Ronan shot back, “Sargent’s been a bad influence on me. She’s the one that found most of these songs.”

Gansey wondered at that. He wondered all through the suggestive and outright explicit of the next song as well. He wondered at Blue’s ability to sing along without so much as a blush, all while he tried very hard not to think on any of the images his mind conjured up in response.

But of course, she was dauntless and outspoken in everything she did. He smiled at the mental image of her playing these songs for Ronan, ranting all the while about how women in media are sexualized for male gratification but expected to keep themselves modest and pure, the double-edged sword that is the masculine perception of female sexuality, and raging against the vilification of the women who wrote songs expressing that sexuality while men could objectify women in their song’s as much as they pleased. Gansey wished he could’ve been there for Ronan’s response.

None of that made the upbeat, electronic excuse for music any more aurally appealing, unfortunately.

One song ended with sudden bursts of horrid, metallic clashing sounds at a volume so painful that he, Adam, and even Blue covered their ears. She reached to lower the volume, but Ronan slapped her hand away.

“Come on, Ronan,” Gansey yelled, “this isn’t even music! It’s just…screeching!”

Ronan threw a wolfish grin at him over his shoulder. “I know. It sounds just like the Pig when she breaks down. Does it turn you on, Dick?”

Gansey let out a deep sigh, but before he could defend himself, the song had changed and Blue had let out a little excited yelp.

“I just remembered!” she gasped, grabbing for Ronan’s phone. “Henry gave me a song to play for you. You’re gonna love it.”

Ronan sneered. “I don’t trust Cheng’s taste in music.”

Blue only waved her hand dismissively and fiddled with his phone until a new song, not dissimilar in style to the rest, was playing. A few verses in, Adam began laughing, a full, joyous laugh rarely heard and positively contagious.

“It’s perfect for you, Ro,” he gasped out.

Ronan had to concede that a song about only answering the phone for your boyfriend’s personalized ringtone was rather fitting, even if Henry was the one to recommend it. He didn’t fight Blue when she added it to the playlist, and his threats following her announcement that she was making the song Adam’s ringtone were halfhearted at best.

Looking from Blue and Ronan’s bickering to Adam’s gasping laughter, Gansey tried to take in and file away every detail. He wanted to be able to look back on this moment when they were spread out across the country, to remind himself that the separation was only temporary. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

By the time they got to the Barns, it was his eardrums that felt like they were going to burst.

“Next time,” he groaned, stepping out of the car and into the Virginia summer heat, “I’m bringing ear plugs.”

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Eleven

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost (ff.net isn’t working for me rn, so i’ll update chapter eleven there probably tomorrow)

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti ​ @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

hey hey hey!! i’m back with chapter eleven after only two weeks!! i was actually procrastinating writing my poetry essay and working on my novel by writing this, so that counts as productivity, right?

thanks to my fantabulous beta @thestarwhowishes and thank to you all for reading!! i am just floored by all of your support, it means so much to me!!

(and psst!! if you like my writing maybe try out my sideblog where i post original content @liorzoewrites)

anyway, chapter eleven! enjoy!

---

November 2 - 4 years after

 When Hazar finally arrives at the shop, Maz, Amir, and Xeyale start to tell the whole staff what happened at Amalike Orchards’ berry fair.

“Chokecherry already had booths set up when we got there,” Maz says, grimacing. “With Morrisey’s new novel.”

“And they had agents with them,” Xeyale adds.

Adil frowns. “What do you mean, agents?”

“Publishing agents.”

“They were signing authors at the fair?” Hazar asks, disbelief all over his normally cheerful face.

“Not exactly,” Xeyale says.

“They were taking in manuscripts,” Amir says. “For short stories, we think. We think their plan is to publish a collection of them.”

“And that’s their brilliant archiving strategy?” Nesta says. “Just taking any short story from any writer who shows up at the berry fair and tying it all together into a book?” She shares a look with Adil.  No one appreciates the art of literature anymore.

“It is a brilliant strategy,” Hazar says, reluctant to admit it.

“We think so, too,” Amir says, and Xeyale nods behind them. Before any of them can protest, Amir raises their hands in surrender. “Look, you’re all archivists. Readers. Some of you are writers. But from publishing and marketing standpoints...it goes faster. If one author writes a three hundred page novel, that one author has to have a good idea and a good execution. Or people won’t buy it. But if you get ten authors each writing thirty pages...even if four of them aren’t that great, people will still buy it for the sixth.”

“Or one big name author with a few other smaller ones,” Hazar says. “That’ll sell just the same.”

“But the same number of books get sold,” Adil says. “Don’t they lose money, with all the authors they have to pay per book?”

“More books get sold,” Hazar says.

“It suits a larger audience,” Nesta realizes. “So more people buy it.” Because those six authors they’ll buy the book for are different authors for everyone.

Sometimes Nesta hates individual taste. Especially if it’s poor.

Adil puts his head in his hands. “How many publishing agents do they have?”

“Not many,” Maz says. “We only saw three at the fair.”

“For all those new authors?”

“I imagine the authors aren’t treated very well,” Hazar says, frowning slightly. “But they might not care, if they get published quickly.”

“That’ll be bad for them in the long run, though,” Leyla says, speaking up.

“I agree with you, but again, they might not care.”

“Do we have to start publishing short story collections?” Zeyn asks.

Nesta thinks about what would go into that. They would need to find so many new authors. Sugar Books--and Adil--believes in the separation of genre, so they couldn’t just cram any random ten stories together. It would go against their idea of what the literary world should be. What would that take, to find a variety of authors who write on the same subject, with the enough of the same general style to create harmony, but each unique enough to justify its presence in the book?

She shivers involuntarily, very thankful for Cassian’s shared account.

"We’ll definitely have to start signing more authors,” Adil decides. “We’ll...send out scouts.”

“To Chokecherry?” Maz says.

“No,” Adil says. “But everywhere else. Where authors frequent. We’ll have to go overtime on reading manuscripts. But we will not--” he slams his hand down on the table quite suddenly, startling them all “--compromise on the integrity and quality of literature.”

“Hear, hear!” Zeyn calls, and Nesta suppresses a smile. He catches it and winks at her.

“We’ll split up. Xeyale, Amir, and Nesta, you’ll stay and run the shop. Hazar, you stay here, too, and wait for our new clients. Miri and I will go to Berries’ Rivers, Maz, you go to Privet Falls, Leyla, Wintergreen Glen, and Zeyn, Juniper Hills. We’re talent scouting. Find places authors frequent, approach them, if they’re any good, send them here.” He looks at them all intently.

Zeyn and Nesta exchange a glance.

“Ah, Adil,” Zeyn says, rather timid. “You do know that that’s insane, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says, already making to leave the room and go back to his office.

“All the gods,” Hazar says, standing up. “I’ve got to go get a cup of coffee.” And he leaves too.

“I mean, that’s insane, right?” Zeyn says.

“I think we’re all in agreement of that, yes,” Leyla says, nodding.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Miri says.

They all look at her.

"Maybe it’s time for a change,” she defends. “Maybe this is the way to do it. This is what they do in the acting industry, right?”

“But this isn’t the acting industry.”

“He’s really stressed about this,” Miri says. “He doesn’t want this place to lose anymore than Chokecherry has already taken from it.”  He doesn’t want any of you to lose anymore than Chokecherry has taken, she doesn’t say, but they all see it in her eyes. “I think it will work.” She stands. “And at any rate...it’s what we’re doing.” She leaves.

“I hate what this is doing to everyone,” Maz complains, and Nesta hates to agree with him, but she does too.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be the only archivist while you’re all off turning into the acting industry,” she says, shaking her head.

Zeyn and Leyla laugh.

"Don’t worry,” Xeyale says, grinning at her. “We’ll be here to keep you company.”

“A real comfort,” she says dryly. She stands too. “Well, I suppose we’ve got work to do. We need to find all the places...authors frequent.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, in a fifty mile radius,” Maz grumbles. “This is never going to work.”

“Don’t say that,” Zeyn says lightly. “It might. And wouldn’t it be great? To discover new talent like that?”

Nesta knows the question isn’t directed at her, but she wonders anyway--what would it be like? In publishing? She didn’t think she’d like archiving before she started; she thought reading was the only thing she enjoyed.

That’s not something she can explore now, though, and that’s why Adil is having her stay here. So she shakes herself and goes to find maps of the surrounding towns.

---

November 20 - Year of

 She avoided him for days after she snapped. He caught her in the living room when she came back from work one day.

“Wait, Nesta,” he said, jumping to his feet as soon as she walked in.

Nesta stifled a groan. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

She didn’t like that tentative, detached politeness. She was angry.

(And Cassian was anything but tentative and detached. It felt abnormal sharing that with him.)

“Please,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

Nesta said stiffly, “Don’t worry about it,” and tried to push past him.

“No, Nesta,” he said, raising his hands and blocking her path to the hallway. “Not for breakfast. I mean, yes for breakfast, but also...for everything. For bringing you here. For...leaving  you here.”

She froze. He did too.

She moved her eyes from his face. She couldn’t look at him.

Why was everything so hot all of a sudden?

“I...should have known this wasn’t the right thing to do,” he said, slowly, carefully. Nesta could tell he was thinking hard about each word before he said it. “To bring you here and leave you alone. Here, of all places. We thought...I thought it would be good for you. I thought...you would have space and maybe you would want to train and that would be a good outlet for you the same way it is for me and you’d get....”

Better, he didn’t say.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was hoarse and Nesta was scared to look at him so she didn’t.

He sat back down. “That’s...all I wanted to say,” he said lamely.

Nesta kept her eyes averted as she nodded slightly and ducked into the hall, into her room, shutting the door behind her.

He apologized. 

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

And he certainly seemed sorry--just by his voice, of course, because she hadn’t seen his face.

He’d thought she might want to train...he didn’t know her at all, clearly. And he hadn’t mentioned all of it; not all that happened in Velaris and the fact that  she was this thing now, but she was glad of it, because all he did say was nearly too much to bear.

And she couldn’t spend the rest of her night going over everything, playing it all back in her head until she knew the words by heart, so she tried to best to put it all out of her mind.

Because...was she supposed to forgive him now?

---

November 2 - 4 years after

 The staff is gone later that day, as Adil is determined to discover five brilliant new authors before the month is over. Nesta is glad Miri is going with him; she might talk some sense into him.

“Does he actually think Gilameyva’s just bleeding ingenious writers?” Leyla had muttered to her before they all left.

Nesta laughed a little. “He’s just anxious,” she said, echoing Miri.

"I can’t believe I have to go to Wintergreen Glen. It’s so boring.”

"Well, maybe you’ll find a whole new world to fall into.”

"Right. I’m sure we’ll find the next Morrissey in Wintergreen Glen.”

"Why not?” Zeyn had said, appearing next to them. “Morrisey’s from Privet Falls.”

And Morrissey, Nesta thinks to herself as she walks back home, isn’t even that great of a writer.

She doesn’t have to pick up the children from nursery because Cassian’s already got them. It’s quite nice, actually, to be able to spend a little while longer at work locking up and stop for a coffee from Jamal’s without worrying too much.

Aysel is there, too, and she walks back with her. “So,” she says to her, eager to get to the point after what was surely a painful exchange of pleasantries for the town’s resident busybody, “I hear that Cassian of yours has been staying for quite some time.”

"He comes and goes.”

"He’s been here a week.”

“That’s true,” she says.

“I saw him today. He picked the children up. Oh, they’re so cute, you know. Just the sweetest little things.”

“I agree with you.”

“You do such a good job with them!”

“Thank you, Aysel.”

“I remember when they were born. Ooh, Ollie was so tiny, do you remember?”

“Their birth?” Nesta laughs. “Vividly.”

Aysel laughs too, in that hurried way she always does. “Of course, of course. He’s so big now.”

“He is,” she agrees. She can’t believe it, sometimes, how much they have grown in three years. Especially Ollie; he had been so small.

“And his father,” Aysel says, in a tone she thinks is supposed to be sly. “Well, he’s not small, is he?”

“He’s tall,” Nesta says neutrally.

“ Very  tall. Probably the tallest person in Sugar Valley, ever.”

“We had some tall people in for the last Berry Fair.”

“Tallest one now.”

“Probably.”

“How tall do you think your boys are going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“And Ava?”

“Taller than I am, I hope.”

“Oh, don’t say that, dearie. You’re such a darling height.”

They reach their street then, and Nesta might’ve invited her for strawberry tea and jam, but she’s not going to. Confirming personally that Cassian is her children’s father to Aysel is one thing, inviting her inside to meet him is quite another.

“Well, have a good evening, Aysel,” she says.

“You too, dearie. Kisses to the babies!”

 She waves at her over her shoulder and strides up to her porch.

She might’ve guessed something is wrong by the fact that she can’t hear any noise from the inside, but she knows for sure because Cassian rips the door open as soon as she reaches it. His face is pale.

Nesta’s heart drops. “What is it?” A million different scenarios run through her mind, each one worse than the last.

“Come inside,” is all he says.

They rush up the stairs, Nesta’s pulse going faster than it ever has before when he leads her up the stairs and to her children’s bedroom. She braces herself as best she can for when she goes inside, but she knows there isn’t a good way to prepare.

But they’re all there...whole. In three perfect pieces. Nicky and Ollie laying in the beds, Avery standing in between them, her hand on Nicky’s form.

She looks at Cassian, his face still ashen. “What?” she asks.

His eyes widen. “They’re sick!”

Nesta throws a hand to her forehead. For mercy’s sake. “Don’t,” she says, rubbing her temples, “ever deliver news to me that way.”

Her heartbeat back to normal, she joins Avery in the middle of her sons’ beds. She settles herself on her knees and pulls her close. She doesn’t feel hot.

"How are you feeling, ladybug?”

"Good,” she says, slightly muffled against Nesta’s body. She looks up at her. “Nicky and Ollie are sick.”

"Yes,” she says, nodding. Then she looks at Cassian. “It’s flu season.”

"Emilia’s sick, too.”

"Yes,” she says, still looking pointedly at Cassian. “Probably the flu, poor thing.”

He glares at her, but she can see his coloring darkens slightly, which probably would have delighted her once.

She doesn’t hate it, now.

She puts her hand on Nicky’s forehead and then Ollie’s. A fever, each of them. Ollie is sleeping soundly, and Nicky seems like he’ll fall asleep soon.

"Mummy will bring you something to drink,” she whispers to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

She leads Avery and Cassian out of the room.

“I don’t want to be sick.”

“You won’t,” she assures her. “You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want my brothers to be sick.”

Nesta feels the same rush of overwhelming emotion she always does when her children express how much they love each other. “Don’t worry,” she says to her, smiling. “They’ll be better soon. Why don’t you go play outside for a bit?”

“Are you out of your mind?” she says to Cassian when she’s gone. “Do you know what went through my head?”

"They’re sick!”

“Children get sick! People get sick! They’ll get better!”

“Well, I’ve never had children get sick before!”

Nesta softens at the fear in his voice, shining through his eyes as well. “They’ll be fine,” she says in a more gentle tone. “It’ll be a few days...it’s properly miserable to see them, but they’ll be fine. I only don’t want to keep Avery here...I don’t want her to get sick, too. Normally I’d ask Miri and Adil,” she says, talking more to herself. “But they’re gone, and I can’t ask Amorette. I guess I’ll keep her in my room. Oh, and I’ll have to stay here. Oh, but I’m alone at the store....”

"You’re alone at the store?”

"Yes, Adil’s got everyone traipsing around the country, looking for authors,” she says, waving a hand. “Unless...when are you going back?”

“Not before they’re better.”

Nesta straightens. That was the right answer. “Well, could you watch them during the day?”He nods, his expression casual, but Nesta can tell he’s terrified.

"It’s really not that big of a deal,” she says. “I’ll show you which medication to give them, how often. I’ll make soup. They’ll need fluids. Oh, and Nicky can’t have plain water when he’s sick, he’ll need tea...I’ll write this down for you...but it’s not like I’m going to be leaving you alone,” she adds at the sight of him. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Just work.”

“I know,” he says. Hesitates. “I just...”

“What?”

“I’m...worried.”

Nesta puts down the pen she’s picked up and crosses the room to his side. She moves her hand to take his, but thinks better of it. “You don’t need to. They’ll be fine. So will you. You’ve been...” her eyes dart around the room, but she meets his gaze when she says, “very helpful. This week.”

His head lifts slightly, and that all-too-familiar cocky grin appears. “Yeah?”

“Yes. In fact...” Now Nesta hesitates. “Maybe...if you would feel comfortable...you could spend the night with Avery at Miri’s house?”

His grin slides off his face.

“If it’s too soon,” she says quickly, “then--you know what? Forget--”

“No!” he says. “No, I can! I can--sure. At Miri’s...yes. I can. I know what she needs. I can...yes.”

“All right,” she says, relieved somewhat. “I’ll...make you a list.”

“Okay.”

“And...she’ll have flying lessons tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to go with her? And I’ll stay home with the boys?”

Nesta’s never seen his eyes light up the way they do now.

---

November 12 - 1 year after

 She didn’t feel exactly ill, but she felt off. Like the world had been tilted a few degrees. She had been hungrier than normal for her the past week or so, but it’s not till that day she wondered if something was wrong with her.

Only briefly. Then she pushed the thought aside. Things were going well, and she didn’t need to look for something to be upset about.

"Good morning, Nesta,” Zeyn greeted her cheerfully. How was he always so happy all the time? It was jarring.

"Hello, Zeyn,” she said, rubbing her temples.

“Headache?”

“No...” she said, because her head didn’t hurt, it just felt...weird. “Just tired.” Perhaps that was it.

“I’ve got a lot of new books today. Maybe you’d like to read one. Do you like mystery?”

“It’s all right,” she said. Most mystery novels were predictable to her. “I’ve got to finish mine, though.”

“How have you been with all those?” he asked, following her to the back room.

All that is Holy, she thought. “It’s going well, thanks.” It was reading. And fixing up books. And setting a price. As long as you could read, it wasn’t hard.

“I just get so overwhelmed sometimes,” he said. “You know, all those books. In such a short amount of time. And how do you set a price!”

“Length and demand,” she said, frowning slightly. How else would you set a price?

“Yes, but it’s hard to foresee demand at a store that sells used books,” he said. “I imagine it’s even more so for you, because human-authored books are so unpopular. Not that they aren’t good! Just so, I guess, uncommon. Yes, that’s the word. It’s rare to come across one. But now that the Wall is down, we might trade more. It’d be really fascinating, don’t you think, to see what books are popular with humans. Don’t you think? Nesta?”

“Just...” Nesta said, “I. Oh. Oh, I have to...” she trailed off, not being able to hear herself suddenly.

“Here, lie down.” She could feel a pair of warm, strong hands lower her gently to the ground. Oh, it felt so-- wrong , to be touched like that. By another male’s hands. Oh, she didn’t like it...

The room was spinning. She could hear more voices. Emerie was yelling. No, not Emerie. Not Emerie, right? Who was that? Who was speaking?

Someone was saying her name. Someone...but she couldn’t hear.

And then she couldn’t see.

---

November 2 - 4 years after

 Cassian’s still has yet to regain his power of speech, but it doesn’t matter, because Ava keeps the conversation going on her own.

“And I will put my horse here, and I will put my dog here, and I will put my owl here...” she sing-songs, placing her stuffed animals in various spots on the bed he has set up for her in Miri’s house.

She’s ready to go to sleep, after being fed  and bathed at Nesta’s house. But she wants to set up the room the way she likes it first.

"And I want...my giraffe.”

“Your giraffe?” Cassian repeats, looking around. “I don’t see...”

“Nicky has it.”

“Nicky has it?”

“Yes.”

“But Nicky’s at home.”

“Let’s go get it.”

“Well,” he says, wishing Nesta were here, “we’ll go home tomorrow morning, and we’ll bring your giraffe then.”

Ava looks outraged. “I want it now!”

She hadn’t mentioned this. Nesta didn’t say anything about a giraffe. And he’s never been out with Ava before; how was he supposed to know? “But...we’ll let Nicky have it. Because he’s sick. Just for tonight.” Maybe that tactic will work?

Ava considers it. “Tomorrow I will get my giraffe?”

He’s nothing if not strategic. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

Ava thinks some more. “All right, tomorrow.”

Cassian breathes a sigh of relief. Ava’s been throwing crisis after crisis at him. He feels like a novice, back when he did simulations. When his commanders had given them every possible thing that could go wrong, all at the same time. There was an Illyrian expression that loosely translated into “difficult training makes for an easy battle”--but there is no training for parenting and it is by no definition an easy battle.

“Tell me a story,” she orders him when he finally convinces her to get into bed.

Cassian nods. Nesta had told him one as they packed, reciting the important lines a few times over for him to memorize. “I’ll tell you the one about Jack,” he says.

“No, I don’t want Jack.”

Fantastic.

"Well,” he says, trying to keep a level head. “What...story do you want?”

“Not a Mummy story.”

“What’s a Mummy story? Oh, not one of Mummy’s stories.” She wants one of his? Nesta wouldn’t like him telling any Illyrian tales...and he doesn’t think it’s a particularly good idea either. “Maybe...” Cassian rack his brain.  He has stories, doesn’t he? One of them must be child-friendly. Or he can edit it to make it so.

Had he ever gone on some sort of quest that didn’t end in bloodshed?

“Not too long ago,” he says, in the way Illyrian tales always start, realizing as he begins that it’s quite eerie, but no matter, “there was a male who loved a female very much. And the female loved...very much...more than anything in the world...chocolate.”

Ava laughs. “I love chocolate!”

“You do? Well, the female loved chocolate so much, but there was one type of chocolate she loved more than all the others. But she hadn’t had it since she was a little girl, and she now lived very far away from the place where they made it. One day, she was very sad...and he knew only that chocolate would make her happy again. So he decided he would travel to find it.

“He had to cross an ocean and many lands, for only one tiny little town across the world made this exact kind of chocolate. When he got to the tiny town, he searched and searched for the chocolate shop. And then...he found it. And he bought some chocolate...and he brought it home...and then the female was happy again,” he finishes lamely.

Ava looks at him, unimpressed. He doesn’t blame her. Although in his defense, it had been more exciting when it had actually happened.

“Tell it again!” she says.

He does, trying to make it sound better this time around, but he isn’t very good at it. He might’ve laced the story with bits and pieces of other (real) quests he had been on, but he isn’t sure what he’s allowed to say.

After the second time, Ava looks at him thoughtfully. “That was not a good story,” she tells him.

He laughs a little. “I’m sorry. Should I tell you the story about Jack?”

“Yes!”

He recites the story Nesta had told him, exactly the way she had instructed, and Ava is thrilled. She laughs and claps along.

"Again!” she says when he finishes. And again and again.

Until he says, “It’s time for you to go to sleep, now, Ava.”

"So let’s go home.”

“We’re sleeping here tonight, Ava, remember?”

To his horror, her eyes well up with tears. “I want to go home with Mummy and Nicky and Ollie.”

“Don’t cry,” he says, fretting. “Don’t--it’s okay, don’t--oh....”

“I don’t--want--to stay here,” she sobs. “I want to go home!”

“I’m sorry...we’ll go home tomorrow, Ava.”

“I want my giraffe!”

“But we said we’d let Nicky have the giraffe tonight, don’t you remember?” he says desperately. But Ava doesn’t care. He can’t quite make out exactly what she’s saying and he doesn’t know what to do.

So he picks her up out of bed and lays her against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to bounce her. That’s how to calm children down, right?

“I don’t want to stay here all by myself!” Her cries are muffled against him.

“Well, you’re not all by yourself,” he says. “I’m here. I’m staying with you.” Would that be enough?  Please let that be enough. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that’s not good enough for her. Just for one night.

She sniffles a little and lifts her head, looking up at him with his own eyes. Except so innocent, so pure. “Can I sleep in your bed?” she asks, voice still wavering.

Relief crashes over him. “Sure,” he says. “Of course.”

The smile she gives him is vibrant, and he marvels at how little he loved her at the beginning of the week compared to now.

---

November 30 - Year of

 She’d told her sister, once, that the last thing she would want would be to be remembered as a coward. She felt like one now.

Like a coward and angry and hurt, perhaps, more than anything. Which made her feel stupid.

Sometimes Nesta thought she felt too much.

After Cassian had apologized, she’d fled to her room and avoided him successfully for over a week. It was made easier by the fact that he did have to leave a few times during the week, to one of those neighboring camps he always went off to.

She didn’t want to think about it. Especially the pain. Because if he had hurt her...she didn’t let herself finish the thought.

But one afternoon, at work, while counting out jackets in the back, she heard Emerie say, “What are you doing here?”

And then she heard him reply, “I came to see Nesta.”

She nearly dropped the jacket she was holding. She normally felt him before she heard him. Where had that gone? It was of no use to her when they were both in the house, and now it was too late to sneak out the back, because he was coming.

"Nesta,” he said, pushing open the door.

“The sign says ‘employees only’,” she blurted out, which she knew was the stupidest thing she could have said, but it was too late.

“Emerie said I could go in.”

Traitor.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“It couldn’t wait? I’m working.” Perhaps he’d make some snide comment about working in a clothier as opposed to being the Night Court’s Emissary and then she could pick a fight over that and kick him out of the shop and they’d go back to the way things were when she got here. Except she’d have Emerie and her drinking habit more under control, so it’d be better. 

But he just said, “I know. I’m sorry, it couldn’t wait. I’ll be leaving again soon. For about five days, I think. Maybe longer. And I couldn’t go without...” he trailed off. Ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sound. “I keep doing things wrong with you, Nesta. 

She averted her gaze. She couldn’t do this. This was too much. And if he mentioned...that day...the battlefield...she didn’t know what she would do.

But he did.

“I promised you time, once,” he said softly.

No. No, she could not do this.

“I have to go,” she managed. She pushed past him, quickly, careful not to touch him.

“Wait, Nesta, please--”

“Nesta,” Emerie said, turning as she entered the room. “Where are you--?”

But Nesta didn’t stay to hear her finish. Instead, she ran.

---

November 3 - 4 years after

 This time it is Nesta who rips open the door as soon as she hears Cassian approaching.

“Mummy!” Avery calls, reaching her arms out for her.

“Hi, ladybug,” Nesta croons. She holds her tightly against herself. “I missed you so much.”

She had regretted sending Cassian out with her the moment they had gone. She hadn’t spent a night away from them, ever. She had never not tucked them into bed. And now...Avery had had a night without her. It felt like she should look different. There should be some mark upon her face.

But her daughter looks just as she did last night, just as cheerful and chattery. Cassian looks relatively unscathed, too, if a bit tired.

“Did you have fun?” she asks her as she ushers them inside.

“Appa told me a boring story,” Avery says, and wiggles out of Nesta’s arm onto the ground. “I want some orange juice in my purple cup, please.”

“Boring story?” Nesta says to Cassian.

“She didn’t want yours. And I didn’t want to tell her something you wouldn’t approve of. She still asked for it again, anyway,” he says defensively.

Nesta looks at him. “And you told it to her?”

“Yes.” Now he looks unsure. “And then she wanted yours...so I told that one, like, three times.”

Nesta shakes her head. She looks at Avery. Her daughter knows how to get what she wants, that’s for sure. “Did she ask to sleep in your bed, too?”

“...is that bad?”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Avery wraps everyone she meets around her little finger. Why should her father be any different?

“How are Nicky and Ollie?” he asks.

"Still ill,” she says. “The main thing is just to keep them on a constant stream of fluids so they don't dehydrate. Soup, if they feel up for it. Talk to them if you can, but they might be too tired.”

“Shouldn’t we take them to a healer?”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d appreciate hearing him say  we . “We don’t need to,” she says. “It’s the common flu. They’ll be fine.”

“So...you never take them to the healer? If they have the flu?”

“It’s not necessary if it lasts only a couple of days,” she reminds him, “for adults and children both.”

“Infants--”

“Not the same,” she explains patiently. “They can digest medication. Infants can’t.”

She finishes putting Avery’s breakfast in front of her. “When you’re done, Mummy will take you to nursery.”

“I want to say hello to Nicky and Ollie.”

“Finish your breakfast and then go,” she says to her. Then she says to Cassian, “Well, other than that...how was it?”

“She cried,” he admits. Then he grins. “But I calmed her down.”

“By letting her sleep in your bed.”

“Why is that not allowed?”

Nesta shakes her head again. “You were only with her. What if they all wanted to sleep in your bed?”

“What then?”

“They would kick you out and you would end up on the floor.” Nesta had thought moving them into their own beds would be a hard step, and it was, but as soon as she woke up from her first night alone in over two years, she didn’t miss it anymore.

Cassian laughs. “I can take them.”

Nesta hides a smile. “Finish up, Avery,” she says. “It’s almost time to go.”

She busies herself around the kitchen with nothing in particular, just feeling his eyes on her.

---

November 12 - 1 year after

 She could hear everyone around her before she could see them. Low, hushed voices. Some whirring sound, too. She shivered from the cold and from something else.

“Oh, she’s waking up,” she heard someone whisper.

“Nesta?” another voice said. Miri, from Sugar Books. What was she doing here?

Nesta opened her eyes. Where was here, exactly?

Here was a small room Nesta didn’t recognize. Pale blue walls decorated with tiny sugar berries; the sheets on the bed she was lying on the same design. The curtains on the window were a cheerful yellow and the expressions on Zeyn and Miri’s faces were anything but.

“Can you hear us, Nesta?”

Nesta struggled to sit upright. “Of course I can hear you,” she said, grumbling slightly. “What are these?” She shook her arm as she spoke, at the needles prodded inside her. She was in an infirmary of some kind. She vaguely remembered blacking out at the store, but since she could feel no pain, she assumed she was fine. Probably just dehydrated. After all, she had been Made. The epitome of perfection, was she not? She didn’t get sick anymore.

“Fluids,” Zeyn said unhelpfully.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course they were fluids. But Zeyn was harmless, if annoying, and she didn’t want to start an antagonistic relationship with the coworker who clearly liked her best.

“You blacked out,” Miri said, her wide dark eyes searching Nesta’s face. “We brought you to the clinic. A healer is seeing to you. Her name’s Amorette. She’s fairly new here, but I’ve been told she’s very good.”

Nesta nodded. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, hoping they’ll hear the dismissal.

They do. “Feel better, Nesta,” Zeyn said, reaching her hand to squeeze it. She tried not to flinch.

“We’ll be by to check in on you,” Miri said.

Oh, for the love of all things Holy. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She smiled as she spoke, hoping she did so normally.

Cassian used to make fun of her forced smiles. You look like you’re in pain.

Why was she thinking of him all of a sudden?

They left as the healer stood in the room. She looked to be about Nesta’s age--although with Fae, you couldn’t really tell, could you? But at any rate, a pretty, High Fae female, with light blue eyes and blond hair that kept tied at the nape of her neck.

“Good afternoon, Miss Archeron,” the healer said. “I’m Amorette Dadashov. I’ll be your healer today. May I come in?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” she said, pleasantly surprised at the healer asking permission.

Healer Dadashov closed the door behind her. She was holding a notebook in her hand. “I can see all your vitals have returned to normal,” she said, without checking them like a mortal nurse would have to. “All things considered.”

"All things considered?”

“Yes,” she said, flipping through the pages of her book. “I understand you’re new in town?”

What on Earth did that have to do with anything? “Yes.”

“And, forgive me, you’re here alone?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“And you’ve not been to our clinic yet, correct?”

“Correct.” Shouldn’t that all be in her book? Why is she asking all this?

“So your options have not yet been explained to you?” Dadashov looked Nesta in the eye as she spoke.

Nesta’s patience was wearing thin. “Look,” she snapped, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d very much like if you could just tell me what happened and what I have to do so it doesn’t happen again and let me go. Please,” she added as an afterthought. It didn’t sound very gracious.

Dadashov’s eyes widened. “Miss Archeron,” she said, not quite stuttering but certainly with none of the confidence she’d had before. “You do...I mean...you know that you’re pregnant?”

Nesta’s favorite book as a child was about magic. It wasn’t called magic, of course, for in the tiny human section of their island, magic was shunned. But that power to manipulate nature; that was what it was. The heroine was a girl named Avery, and Avery’s villain was a woman who could make things vanish. The most terrifying part of the story, in eight-year-old Nesta’s opinion, was the part where the villain made the floor vanish right from underneath Avery, and she fell and fell for miles until she could get her magic working to pull herself back up.

Nesta felt that. But there was no one to pull her back up. Because she was alone. There was only falling.

“I...can see you did not know,” Dadashov said softly. “All right, well...” She pulled a chair towards the bed and sat down. She gripped Nesta’s hands, hers a warm peach next to Nesta’s stark white. “It’s going to be all right,” she said soothingly. “The clinic is very well prepared for any option you choose. We have three healer’s for female reproduction, myself included. We’re all more than capable of treating you in whatever...oh, dear. Here,” she said, passing her a wad of tissue paper.

“Oh,” Nesta said, taking some and wiping her eyes. “Oh, er, tha--” 

But she choked on her words.

What was she supposed to do?

“I can’t be pregnant,” she whispered aloud. Because she couldn’t. Then she realized--she truly couldn’t. “This...can't be possible. I haven’t...been with anyone in months.” Even with the gravity of the situation, Nesta still felt a slight blush creep up on her cheeks. Perhaps she had not entirely thrown out the excessive modesty of her upbringing with her few months of numerous partners in Velaris, and the few months living with Cassian.

Oh,  Mother.  Cassian.

“It’s...possible for a female to get pregnant months after intercourse,” the healer said slowly, carefully, like Nesta was an idiot.

“It is?” she replied, feeling like one.

“Yes.”

Of course, Nesta thought, thinking it through. Because her cycle was so slow...and that meant her whole system was so slow...and if pregnancy once would have occurred a few days after sex, now it happened months.

And she had stopped taking the potion. Because she had stopped sleeping with people. But that didn’t matter, because it had only been...Nesta counted backwards in her head...a month since she had last slept with Cassian.

(A month? Had it really only been a month?)

Nesta put her head in her hands. “All right,” she said, summoning her nerve. “Tell me about the other two healers.”

“Well,” Dadashov said, slightly taken aback, “there’s Huseyn Por--”

“Male.”

“Er, yes.”

“No. The other one.”

"Marya Kamal. She’s brilliant, one of the best in the field. We’re lucky to have her. Her studies--”

“How old is she?”

“Er,” Dadashov said, eyes darting around. “I believe...twelve-hundred, or so?”

“No. You, then. All right.” Nesta paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about faerie reproduction. I wasn’t born faerie. And I...can’t have this baby.”

Eugh, why did she say baby?

Dadashov’s eyes go even wider.

She’s a patient from Hell, she imagined. But Healers liked a challenge, didn’t they?

---

November 3 - 4 years after

 The day spent with his sons is miserable. He sits with them all day, talking to them while they’re awake and running his hands down their backs while they sleep. Nicky seems to be doing a little better towards the late afternoon, and sits up to have soup, but Ollie barely takes the water Cassian makes him drink.

He’s beyond relieved when Nesta and Ava come home.

Ava rushes up the stairs ahead of Nesta. “We’re going to flying lessons now, Appa,” she sing-songs. “We’re going now, we’re going now, we’re going now.”

"Hi, angels,” Nesta says, coming into the room and sitting by Nicky. “How are you feeling?” she asks him, putting a hand on his forehead.

“Better,” he says, but his voice is still so weak.

Nesta kisses the top of his head and hugs him. “What about a bath? Would that make you feel better.”

He shrugs into her.

“I think it would,” she says, standing up. “How’s Ollie?”

“Sleeping, mostly.”

“Poor angel,” she sighs. “All right, you go on to flying lessons. Have fun, Avery. Say hello to Madam Sabina for me.”

“Bye-bye, Nicky! Bye-bye, Mummy! Let’s go now, Appa!”

Ava takes his hand and starts dragging him towards the door. “Bye,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll come back soon.”

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go now!”

Ava keeps up variations of her chant until they arrive at one of the parks where flying lessons commence. The children all look to be around her age, accompanied by a parent or two. They’re all various types of lesser fae, none of the likes of which he’s seen in the Night Court.

Madam Sabina is a round, pink female with large, feathery wings. 

“Hello,” he says, introducing himself. “I’m here with Ava.”

“You’re her father?”

“Yes. Nesta’s at home. With the boys. They’re sick.”

“Ah, flu’s going around. All right, then. Normally I fly with the triplets, but good. You’ll do it. Wonderful. Are you excited to fly with your Daddy, Ava?”

“He’s my Appa,” she says. And then she starts singing again, “We’re at flying lessons now, we’re at flying lessons now.”

Madam Sabina shrugs. “Excited enough, I guess. All right, students!” she cries, clapping her hands. Let’s all gather around in a circle--mummies, daddies, uncles, let’s get behind them. Let’s start our stretching exercises.”

"Hi,” says the female next to him in the parents’ circle. “I’m Nuray, Zehra’s mother. I’m a friend of Nesta’s. You’re the triplets’ father, right?”

He nods. “Cassian,” he says.

“Nicky looks so much like you,” she says. “Where are the boys?”

“They’re sick,” he says, wondering how many friends Nesta has here, or if everyone who has a child in the same age group counts as a friend. “The flu.”

“Oh,” she says, clucking. “Poor dears. Well, it’s going around. Nice that Nesta’s got you here now, to help out. Especially with Zeyn gone.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, struggling to maintain a casual tone. “Good stretching, Ava,” he says to her.

“All right, now, let’s just flap our wings. Just like that. No, Fidan, not too fast! We’re just flapping, we’re not flying! All right, good!”

Ava grins up at him. “I already know how to fly,” she tells him.

“Oh, do you?”

“I’m so good at it.”

“I bet you are.”

“We’re not allowed to fly until Madam Sabina says it’s okay.”

“That’s right.”

“Because we have to stretch first because it’s very important.”

“It is very important, you’re right.”

“And, now we’re going to run all the way over there and then back again, all right? Go!”

Ava shoots off as fast as she can, making him laugh in delight. He feels a rush of gratitude towards Nesta for giving them such a beautiful, quiet place to learn to fly.

"I think it’s great that you’ve moved back in,” Nuray says. “In a town like this, people talk, but they’re good. People talked when my wife and I separated, but now we’re back, and people stop talking, you know?”

"Er,” Cassian says. “We’re not--I mean, I’m not--I don’t...live...here.”

“Oh!” Nuray brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I just...assumed. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s all right,” he says, eyes darting around. This is so--weird. Sugar Valley is so weird. People he doesn’t even know congratulating him on moving back in with Nesta. No one here knows who he is. No one here has served in any military. He’s not even sure Gilameyva has a military. It’s so detached from Prythian, so different.

“Well, at any rate...I think it’s great that you’re stepping up.”

“Thanks.” Is this a normal conversation?

Thankfully, Ava comes back then.

“All right, everyone,” Madam Sabina announces. “Pair up, pair up. We’re going to go up! Stand by your partner!”

Ava stands in front of Cassian, beaming up at him.

“Okay, just high enough to their heads. Now...up!”

Ava kicks herself off the ground--it isn’t graceful in the least, but he’s so proud, prouder than he’s ever been in his life.

“And now we’re all going to do a lap around the park together. No higher than six feet, parents! And uncle!”

Ava takes his hand as they fly together. He’s going abnormally slow, but he doesn’t care at all.

---

Chapter Twelve

[triplelutzmoreliketriplecry]

knats 2020 mindspill

This nats, despite being comparatively well-known for a smaller federation’s nationals, DID NOT STREAM OUTSIDE OF KOREA. WHY. So my viewing of the nats was a bit weirder and different; thank YouTube for posting skates. I missed a bunch of skates but I watched quite a few as well.

WOMENS

Yelim Kim (김예림) 🥉

HER JUMPS MAN. HER JUMPS. Honestly I don’t even know why she doesn’t get +5s for all her clean jumps (aside from lacking more complex transitions and lessening the load time) because the way time seems to slow whenever she jumps??? the delay in rotation??? the clean edges?????? the flow?!?!!!!!!! she truly is a technical badass. Her “performance” skills have been critiqued in the past—which lead to the creation of her Love Story FS—but her short really sells what Yelim does best: dark and dramatic. Her movements and eye contact really help continue to chilling feel created from Natalie Portman’s opening monologue. Her Love Story FS—I hate it. Nothing on Yelim, just that the cover of the song is bad and typically Korean (coming from a korean myself), the choreo is nothing special, the song is ever so repetitive...even the Godfather would be a better choice. The program is clearly not to my taste, but Yelim does do her best (her jumps perfect, and she’s worked with Kim Yuna to perfect her performance skills!) with what she’s got. Also her Black Swan dress? Beautiful. It looks heartbreaking and enhances her balletic beauty in a way that feels very uptight (the turtleneck collar) which really relates to the theme of the movie.

Haein Lee (이해인)🥈

SHE SLAYED!!! How many times has her Firedance FS been clean??? How is someone so consistent??? Her triple lutz could use improvement but her triple loop is a thing of beauty (if it weren’t for transitions she deserves +5) and her step sequence has made this FS my favourite out of the ladies this season. The dress is fabulous, her interpretation and performance skills are perfect—nothing more I can wish from her in Firedance! Program fits her like a glove. Her Nocturne? Uh. I don’t like it. It’s boring, the dress is nice but I have an intense hatred for sweetheart cut fronts or whatever they’re called. She’s stated she’s trying a new genre that’s more mature with the program but I feel like this genre of overplayed Nocturnes can stop. Please. Either way, a beautifully well deserved silver!!!

You Young (유영)🥇

SHE LANDED THE 3A!! It’s been troubling her ever since CoC and I’m glad to see it’s back with her. Although it didn’t work as well for her in the free, I’m confident she’ll bring this killer energy to Lausanne, 4CC, and Worlds (jesus KSU last year it was Junhwan this year it’s Young??? please be kinder to your own skaters). Her Evita dress is amazingly beautiful and one of my favourite dresses ever but her program doesn’t really do much for me. It has good choreo then empty choreo—leaves me confused. (Of course this is just my opinion lol). Her skating in her RnJ short is remarkably fitting to the music, being more spastic and frantic while keeping her grace (exhibited amazingly above) and the section with the (midi?) violins has the best choreo. However both programs seem to not have enough progression throughout, which was a problem I have had with almost all of Young’s programs. This is not her fault and she takes all her programs in stride, executing them beautifully! However the choreo could use some more content to make the program feel more whole.

Honourable Mentions:

- Jihun To’s Ashes SP is also one of my favourite lyrical SPs of the season. The dress, the choreo, it’s all so perfect!

- Eunsoo ;(( She’s been having a rough season but I’m very sure she’ll recover. Her performance quality has not lost a single drop of its quality!!

MENS

June-Hyeong Lee (이준형) 🥉

This was definitely a loss for him. Korean Men’s field is small and most people that get medals stay with their medals for a while, then get pushed down slowly until they don’t podium anymore. After his SP June-Hyeong seemed tense and worried, and the two falls on his FS definitely didn’t help. He’s always been a performer though—and it helped him recover quick after the first minute of the FS. His FS has some of the best and most creative choreo I’ve ever seen and his speed, his edges are very consistent and beautiful. He’s one of those skaters I would gladly watch skate without any jumps! His SP however seems off. It’s almost too chock-full with choreo. While he performs his program amazingly, I feel like he should take some time to hold lines and edges—he’s so full of choreo often in his programs and this takes out from the viewing experience. It’s always better to have more choreo than less, though, and I applaud him! He seemed pretty stuck on the flip though—he did it again during the celebration ceremony twice as if he felt discontent. Costume for the FS was beautiful and fit the music very well (elegance and simplicity mixed in with some whimsical flair provided by the velvet) but the SP one was a bit plain. Overall a hard fight done well!!

Sihyeong Lee (이시형)🥈

SIHYEONG!! FIRST SILVER AT NATS!! His performances were very exquisite aside from the turn out on the 3A in his SP. I’m very VERY fond of his SP music since usually that’s the type of piano music I tend to enjoy more (Ludovico Einaudi vibes anyone?)—aaand that’s because it’s Max Richter. Fucking love that man. His choreo for his SP is perfect and really sells the buildup, and his triple jumps are almost Yelim-level quality—amazing height, very slight delay in certain jumps! His posture in his FS was a bit off, and I was scared he was going to lean too far and fall quite often throughout the program. As well, his skating gets a little slow at times. His FS was definitely nice and the costume makes his legs look three times the length of his torso. WOW he’s tall. I’m amazed his jumps are that nice at his height! A well deserved silver for Sihyeong definitely.

Cha Junhwan (차준환)🥇

FIRST CLEAN FS SINCE IL POSTINO. SECOND CLEAN SP OF THE SEASON. HE’S OVERCOMING HIS SLUMP Y’ALL. His quad toe looks much better and controlled (a hint of delay I see? but that might be because of the way I count rotations in jumps) and his quad sal has stopped having a rug pulled out from under him. Again, I prefer his quad toe to his quad sal because he actually rotates his quad toe more times than he rotates his quad sal, the jump he does almost 3x more frequently. However his quad sal is always a thing of controlled beauty aside from the ur problems! His 3Lz is also actually an outside edge now!!! (Sometimes; it’s quite shallow) His programs have definitely grown on him and his performance quality keeps going up and up every time he performs it. Ina Bauer, step sequence—everything went perfectly for him! I’m so proud :)

funniest moments of knats | cutest moments

[emblemxeno]

(3H SPOILERS) Analysis of Main Characters in FE and the Western FE Community’s Perception of Them

In the midst of all the Three Houses hype, there’s a lot of contention with Edelgard as a character as well as her route in general with how it plays out.

With this, it’s given me some perspective on how the community feels about main characters and whether or not they are liked and/or well written. Since I am a Westerner myself, please always assume this is in the context of the western FE audience, as I don’t know enough about the JP audience to do comparisons or whatnot.

Now with this, there’s more or less a pattern with some main characters in how they’re received by western fans. (Sigurd, Seliph, Leif, Roy and Kris won’t be covered in this since I haven’t read enough of their games’ scripts to get a grasp on them)

The most contentious main characters by far are Eirika, Micaiah, Corrin and Celica (when I say contentious I don’t mean unpopular as they have many fans; however, though popular, they also have the most detractors). 

These characters all have very defined flaws that get them in trouble in their games, are peace seeking in general and look for peaceful ways unless there is no other choice, and all do questionable things in their stories that call for doubt, discussion, and criticism. Most of their development comes from making mistakes and learning from them. They are also all known for getting into situations where they either need rescue or because of something they fucked up.

The least contentious main characters (compared to the four above, I might add) are Hector, Ephraim, Ike, and Alm. 

They may or may not have noticeable flaws, but they hardly ever cause trouble for them. They may or may not seek peace at some opportunities, but are always willing, with no hesitation, to fight. They are all blunt and speak their mind, and though sometimes that poses situations where they could get into trouble, but they never really do. Most of their development comes from growth after bad things happening to them rather than something that they messed up.

In this, realize that main characters are the ones that people identify with the most, therefore, there’s a reason for certain characters to be less contentious than others. In particular, the reason for FE main characters?

It’s probably a little bitchy to say it like this, but it’s kind of power fantasy esque. 

Hector, Ephraim, Ike, and Alm all have great authority/renown within their groups or territories and are always seemingly in control of the situation. They are hardly questioned, and when they are they are almost always proven right. In short, the players like these characters because they are validated as strong, intelligent, and almost always in control of the moment. Since these are the characters players identify with, the players themselves feel validated.

In contrast, compare to them Eirika, Micaiah, Corrin and Celica. They hold little authority (compared to the other four), are questioned and not always proven right, doubted at some points, they question and doubt themselves, they’re not as notably strong in various fields like the other four so they don’t get validated as the other four. Being main characters, these are also characters that players are to identify with, but since they have unattractive/undesirable qualities to them, (and because FE players always believe they themselves have the perfect solutions to everything) they are instead cast aside as being badly written, stupid, incompetent, and the oh so misused moniker, Mary Sue. 

(Well, Celica doesn’t really get called that, but that’s because she wasn’t known by the audience that uses it frequently, and Echoes came out at a period when people stopped using it wrongly)

Again, I don’t wanna sound condescending, but power fantasy is really what I get from this.

Now there is sort of a problem with this theory, and that’s Ephraim, because he’s contentious in his own right because of the shit he pulls in FE8, but he gets less flack than his sister, Corrin, and Micaiah, so...

Anyway, besides the characters I intentionally left out because I didn’t know enough about them, there remains Marth, Lyn, Eliwood, Chrom, Robin, and the 3H Lords.

What’s notable about Mar-Mar is that his Shadow Dragon interpretation is very well received over here in the west. Marth in Shadow Dragon is written as being more blunt, and not really questioning himself, his actions, or anything that happens around him. Notice how this is very much unique to SD, as the original Dark Dragon script as well as Mystery and New Mystery portray softer, more idealistic Mar-Mars. Heroes also takes after those portrayals. Yet the audience here likes the SD portrayal the best; the one most similar to Hector, Ephraim, Ike, and Alm.

Lyn is in an interesting situation; she’s very much in control and she’s not as unimportant in the story as some say, but it’s still very much Eliwood’s story. Which makes it all the more weird that Hector shines over poor Eli. Had Lyn not been many players first Waifu FE lord, Hector would no doubt be the most popular one. Compared to Hec, Eli is peaceseeking and idealistic, though not to the point of the more contentious lords, so he gets passed on compared to his friends, but not to the point where people think he’s badly written.

Chrom and Robin are in an interesting situation as well, as the story is Chrom’s and then gradually become’s Robin’s story as it nears the end. (Some say they stole it from Chrom, but I would say it’s like the spotlight slowly drifted from him to them) 

Chrom doesn’t have a notable flaw that gets him into danger, and is in control/has authority throughout a good deal of the campaign, but also very emotional and starts looking for peaceful solutions more often than say Hector, Ephraim, Ike, and Alm. Chrom tries to reason with Walhart, even, and those other four would never. So he’s kind of at an in between. Robin... is kind of hard to discern. They are supposed to be the character the player identifies with more since they are the avatar. We do see that they are in control as well and never makes to many mistakes. But they’re also batshit crazy for setting fleets on fire and fighting in a volcano. Having the player suspend their disbelief like that isn’t the best thing for identifying with a character, but it seems people like them enough for other reasons so indirect validation isn’t as prominent a thing with them.

Then come the 3H lords, and oh my, they do not fit into any sort of mold whatsoever; not perfectly anyway.

Byleth being a complete blank slate means they are truly in the middle on things; despite being the least customizable in appearance, they are the most avatar like of the FE avatars. The player can feel true, direct validation from the 3H cast as you get to pick which dialogue choices you want, and do other things at your own pace. (Unless you care about support points) As a character they’re not anything too special, but since they are a true avatar, they’re not seen as bad as say, Corrin, because the player can literally be who they want through Byleth and be validated by the story at the same time.

Edelgard, (the most discussed of the lords) is also unique. Never has a main character been so extreme in how they accomplish things. From what I’ve gathered from FE4, she’s Arvis like. And yet, she’s a protagonist in one possible outcome. She has the attractive qualities of protagonists like Hector and Ike, (being in control/having authority, speaking her mind) yet she’s contentious because unlike them her morality is very grey. The very definition of the ends justify the means. There’s a reason her title in Heroes is ‘The Future’. Because her goal and ambition is for the future, with no limit on what she’ll do to get there.

Dimitri is unique because he starts off as model prince, honor loving, sweet boy with bad hair. Then you gradually notice strange things about him, then Remire happens, then you learn he’s at the academy for revenge, then he goes feral at the Holy Tomb, and descends even further for 5 years, until he’s a revenge obsessed beast. He then begins his ascent back to being a proper king for his people (he’s more deserving of the title Restoration King than Ephraim, but that’s just me). There’s never been a main character in FE that falls so low and then climbs back up like that.

Claude himself is unique as well. Besides being the most well adjusted of the three lords, he’s actually pretty idealistic compared to them. He has big dreams and ambitions for Fodlan, and his main concerns are with the world at large, and his story doesn’t end with the major war among the 3 factions. He’s intelligent enough to not be blinded by emotion like Dimitri but also keen enough enough to realize that pure brute force isn’t the only option unlike with Edelgard. He’s very much a middle ground, but a middle ground that’s like a bell curve instead of a straight line, since Edie and Dima both fall hard and do messed up things, but are still not completely terrible people, whereas Claude is nowhere as extreme as they are and feels like a true balance.

If nothing else, 3 Houses achieves something very different with all of its main characters for once.

Anway, that’s kind of all I have. Sorry for the long post, but Fire Emblem is my #1 game series for a reason, so I get big into these passion analyses sometimes.