#I’m trying to force myself to use more actual patterns because a) it’s a skill set I’m lacking

[himblebo]

Why do some of the best historical pattern companies have to be based in a different country than I live in

[hopeswriting]

ok so i was just reading your tags on a post talking about skull/reborn and i kinda wanna know how you think their relationship would work or the kinda writing you trust for them? (i kinda wanna write my own skull/reborn fic lol but wanna keep them in character while doing so)

hi, thank you for the ask!

okay so, i’ve only written this ship substantially like twice myself lol (tho i’m not unfamiliar with writing their dynamic as i’ve written my fair share of poly!arco fics), so i wouldn’t call myself a specialist of them, but i do like to think i have a good grasp on both their characters. and my issue is that fanon doesn’t often get them right in and of themselves to begin with, and so of course when writing them together/about their dynamic, it inevitably gets them wrong. (imo anyway, and here’s the disclaimer that this is all of course only my personal opinion, which everyone is welcome to discuss!)

i don’t think it’s on the fans tho! the way i see it they’re canonically kinda tricky to pin down to begin with, both individually and together. reborn is because even if he’s the co-protagonist, he’s all about being the one in control, the one remaining steady and unfazed no matter what, and the anchor and guiding force of tsuna’s, and by proxy of most of everything that happens in the manga too. which means it’s easy to reduce him to that know-it-all, perfect-at everything, better-than-everyone-else god-like figure, and to overlook the other facets of his personality that nuance that side of him (because i do think that god-like writing he’s often given is definitely in character for him to some extent, don’t get me wrong), because in comparison they appear a lot less often throughout the manga. and even if you do take them into account, it’s hard to pin down when and how and how much reborn allows those other aspects of himself to come out.

skull’s tricky simply because we got very little about him, making him almost a blank canvas, so it’s easier to just make that canvas into whatever we need it to be, while overlooking or disregarding the little we did get about him. and when you do try to take it into account, we got so little about him it’s hard to extrapolate on it to a substantial extent, or draw a pattern between them to get an idea of what being “in character” would even mean for him.

meanwhile when you write them together, i think their dynamic is actually less tricky and just plainly misunderstood. like we can all agree they’re canonically on bad terms, or that there’s beef between them at the very least, canon makes it pretty clear. it’s also pretty easy to guess why that is, but where most people lose me is on the how it all comes together to them having the dynamic they have in canon. and basically, not only there's no actual hate or animosity between them, i think more importantly there’s no disrespect between them or any intention to hurt.

now the last two ones were mostly about reborn, because no matter how he may (purposefully) act or what he may say, if you look closely it’s clear he actually doesn’t question skull’s place among the arco, nor does he question the fact he has the skills to back it up, even if, yes, he’s simultaneously aware skull is the weakest of them, and uses that fact to make fun of him and shape the way he acts with him. he does only make fun of him tho, because reborn’s intention is never to actually hurt him or be cruel with him or look down on him, etc, etc. he only ever means to tease.

which doesn’t mean skull still isn’t hurt by the way he acts with him or doesn’t resent him for it, because he very much is and does. but i don’t think it’s the kind of hurt depicted in most fics that’d make him leave the arco or other such extreme reactions or show of rejection. because yes there’s no actual hate or animosity between them, but also more importantly there’s comradeship between them, just as there is between the other arco, whatever you think comradeship means here. reborn and skull do care about each other.

so like, it’s all about boundaries, instead of them taking an issue with each other’s personality the way it’s often made to be in fics. because being both aware of the other’s background (reborn being mafia to his core and skull being a former civilian), they both get and understand and respect where the other comes from being the way they are, that’s not the issue between them. but then reborn thinks he was able to infer all on his own where skull’s boundaries are, and thinks they both tacitly met each other in the middle, but meanwhile instead of skull assuming he just doesn’t know better and correcting him about it, he assumes reborn does it on purpose because he doesn’t acknowledge him. and this is where it gets super funny because they apparently never got the opportunity to clear that one misunderstanding between them for, like, decades lmao. like, by the time the manga ends they’re still misunderstanding each other, and still aren’t even aware of it to be able to do anything about it. 😭😂😂

not sure if that was all very clear? but if it wasn’t, i actually already got the opportunity to talk about this in this reblog chain about fanon!reborn where we also got to talk about his dynamic with skull! here’s another one about his dynamic with skull, and this one adds onto why i think fanon!reborn isn’t, in fact, in character for canon!reborn. and because this is also relevant and helps to get the full picture of where i’m coming from with this post, here’s my thoughts on skull and how to write him in character.

so to answer your question, i personally think that for their relationship to work, they both need to first realize they started on the wrong foot and have yet to do anything about it, while in the meantime still making them care about each other. that is, only in the cases where you want them to be on better terms with each other of course. as far as just writing their dynamic as it is in canon, you just need to write the strains in their relationship not because they don’t like each other or anything of the sort, but because they’re wrongly assuming the wrong things about each other.

and likewise for the type of writing i trust with them. for me it has to be one that takes care to keep the balance between all those different aspects of their dynamic, and how their respective personality affects it too one way or another. it has to keep the balance between “hey, i do care about you and i’ve literally no intention to hurt you, never had” and “hey, you’re still very much hurting me, and i’m hurt even more because you don’t seem to care about it even when i’m repeatedly telling you you are hurting me??” and “i hear you but also not because this is one of those times my high self-esteem is backfiring against me, and so i’m not even considering the thought i might be wrong about how i’m definitely not crossing your boundaries” and “yeah, this sure is one of those times you being among the best of the best backfires against you, because i’m not even considering the thought you’re not purposefully going out of your way to hurt me, and aren’t well aware you are hurting me”.

and when i say their personalities also affect their dynamic, it’s how you also need to keep the balance between “you’re a former civilian, so of course you react and are affected more strongly to the way i am, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not aware i mean no harm like everyone else” and “you’re mafia to your core, so of course you don’t care to treat me any less roughly/violently than you usually treat people, even knowing i’m a former civilian because you’re likely looking down on me for it” and “from my mafia’s pov i’m definitely meeting you in the middle here, what do you mean you want me to try harder??” and “from my former civilian’s pov this doesn’t look like the middle at all, and wow, you really don’t care about how hard i’m already trying to be up to your standards, huh?”.

and this is where i think it’s tricky to get their dynamic right, because the thing is those assumptions they make about each other are all based on true facts they know for a fact about each other. reborn is mafia to his core and presumably has been all his life, while skull is a former civilian and became mafia only later in his life when he was chosen to be an arco. but instead of them putting both these facts together and going “okay well, there’s no way meeting each other in the middle would mean the same thing for the both of us, and there’s no way we can just accurately guess what it means for the other without explicitly talking about it, so let’s do that first things first”, we got all of the above instead.

also one last thing tho you might not need it, but even in what i call the good timeline arco fics where they start on the right foot right away, this is still worth keeping in mind. not all of it of course, but reborn being mafia while having the personality he has, and skull being a former civilian while having the personality he has will always shape their dynamic no matter what. the same way it’d shape skull’s dynamic with any other character that wasn’t a former civilian too of course, the other arco namely come to mind, but we’re talking about reborn here, you know lol. and not only that, but i think reborn in particular is really the perfect example of this.

hope this helped, and good luck with your fic!

[aggressive-almond-cookie]

Not really keeping notes on everything but just some thoughts I’ve had one-starring the new sizzle season weapons.

I actually had a lot of fun with the H-3 Nozzlenose D-- the kit really forces you to think about team and enemy positioning and where you predict them to be and where your weak points are on the map. It plays too defensively for my long-term liking, I feel, but it was a good exercise in getting a handle on the geometry of the new maps, plus I had some very sweet teammates who booyah’d me when I placed splash wall or big bubbler effectively and it got us the edge, so my morale stayed pretty high. I felt useful.

I couldn’t really get the hang of the s-blast. I think I’m just not good with blasters in general, but I feel like weapons that have such a high delay between deciding to shoot and your shot and it actually going off are really tricky for me. Same with painbrush, but at least with painbrush I can actually ink somewhat. It was also really satisfying to sneak behind groups of occupied players and wipe them out, but 9/10 times I wasted too much time trying to get into that position.

Tenta Sorella Brella was another really, really slow weapon that I had a hard time doing well with, but I’m actually getting myself to slow down enough to get some use out of trizooka. I feel like it was one of the specials I was the worst with when I tried it out in the past but truthfully a lot of my problem is feeling so RUSHRUSHRUSHGOGOGO at all times that I don’t give myself time to aim effectively. It’s probably good for me to use some weapons that actually reward slowing down and thinking sometimes.

I had way more fun with the bedazzled heavy than I expected, especially since I’ve notoriously disliked splatlings in the past. It helped that I stuck with a lot of fun randoms for several games in a row and I feel like we developed both camaraderie and little rivalries with each other. I found myself paying a lot more attention to how they were acting and what their patterns of movement were and was able to plan accordingly a few times. I don’t know how much of that was just because I had given them all little personalities in my head that I got emotionally invested in, and how much was just that I had a better view of things as a backliner, but it was interesting. A litttle weird having kraken on a backliner but I had fun with that too, and it forced me to pay more attention to where my teammates were (something I’m currently really struggling to do on tetras) because when my special was waning I needed to know if there was someone to cover me while I got back into position or if I just needed to jump back to base.

I actually had a really rough time with the missle wiper until I took some time out to practice getting the timing right with my charged swings. Then I had an absolutely destructive couple games with it. I was a little sad when I found I had one-starred it already. Vanilla wiper was on my radar when I was picking a main and this thing is still on my radar for whenever I decide to branch out from tetras.

Of course I tried the light tetras. I’m having a bit of a moment because while I picked dark tetras to main exclusively while I get the hang of anarchy, I told myself I would branch out when I felt ready, even though I couldn’t really imagine that happening any time soon. But learning to use another kit-- especially one that takes higher skill (at least to me-- sprinkler and zipcaster both were the sub/special I never felt like I could really get the hang of using effectively when I was one-starring stuff) feels like a very natural progression in learning to branch out into using other tools-- like really using them effectively and not just playing around with them. And while I’m using to learn other tools, it feels not too unlikely that I could branch into other weapons pretty soon.

I haven’t decided what order I want to do those in yet though. I think I want to get into S rank with dark tetras before I start bringing other weapons into anarchy, but I might bring light tetras in a little sooner. I just still feel like there’s a lot of stuff I need to get more comfortable with in anarchy modes before I throw in the wrench of learning a new mechanic, but we’ll see how I feel. I also have no idea how long it’s going to take me to get there and what walls I might hit. I have sort of an ambitious goal to strive to hit S+ during sizzle season, but I still feel pretty blind about what awaits me. I still feel like I’m just getting lucky in a lot of the matches that I win; that I’m getting carried, but one can only get carried so much, right? I dunno.

Anyway, there was a time when I felt frustrated about the concept of bringing different weapons into different maps/mode. One of the draws of tetras for me was that it seemed to be a weapon that didn’t have as many map/mode specific strengths and weaknesses-- people who mained them did so regardless of the rotation. But now I think I’m starting to get a little more comfortable with the concept of getting picky about weapons based on the maps/modes in play. I’m not gonna rush into it, but I don’t feel as put off by it, at least. I think I may have just been intimidated by the idea of needing to learn multiple weapons, but it feels less impossible now. Maybe in part because I feel like I have a better grasp on the weight of weapon proficiency in determining if you win or lose matches, like, obviously it’s really important, but it’s not 80% of your odds important. There are so many other factors like just awareness and decision making that matter just as much if not more than weapon proficiency, and those skills don’t reset when you pick a new weapon.

But all that said, my heart is still deeply entangled with the tetras right now and I still have so so much to learn. Every time I go up against another tetras player I feel like I get absolutely bodied. Not that 1v1′ing other tetras is the metric I need to be measuring myself by, but it’s something I always notice and it can sting. It mixes me a bit with jealousy and admiration. There’s this one turf match I keep rewatching where we went against these light tetras and they were just so gracefully mobile the entire game, like they just danced through the fray right up to our base every time and I just. wish I could find that person and beg them to teach me to be even half that annoying.

Watching replays from the points of view of tetras that destroy me is actually pretty useful though, like the capacity to really study your enemy and learn from them is such a fantastic thing in this game. My list of things I need to do better is so long now though and while I’ve gotten some feedback to help me narrow down the most important aspects for me to work on, I need to actually put in the work, which would be easier to do if I could stop getting sick. I’m enjoying the heck out of the game anyway but it’s hard to find the mindset to play well these past few weeks.

I did get to take part in the new season challenge though, with one teammate on voice chat and the other a long-time switch friend I don’t have any other form of contact with. We only played til we got all five stamps but we got a bronze trophy!! I’m looking forward to doing more.

ALSO I REALLY LOVE the new salmon run map. But this post is long enough already, so I’ll save that gushing for later.

[moonlitcomet]

If your only argument against someone talking about the rampant elitism issue in gaming communities is "skill issue", you're part of the problem.

I'm by no means a low-skill player. I'm looking out for the people who are.

FPS and rhythm game communities are, by far, the worst about elitism that I've ever experienced. I myself am a rather skilled 4key player compared to the average population; I know a lot of people who are either just bad at rhythm games or are physically incapable of playing harder ones. Adding multiple difficulties - for disabled or low-skill players - is a staple to games, and saying the “only” way to play a game is to play it on hard difficulty is just stupid.

You wouldn’t force everyone to play Minecraft on solely hardcore survival. Not everyone should be forced to only play Pokemon in nuzlocke mode or competitive online battling. These arguments fall apart when it’s about anything but rhythm games - hard mode is not for everybody, and there’s a reason most rhythm games like osu! and Beat Saber come packed with multiple difficulties of the same chart/beatmap.

Lately I’ve been seeing a rampant overrunning of elitism in entry-level games, such as FNF. FNF is one of the easiest, most user-friendly rhythm games in existence at the moment, and can help new rhythm gamers get into harder games like notITG or osu!mania. People are arguing against adding easier difficulties for games in general, but especially in FNF mods, where the modern demographic is skilled players and not entry-level rhythm gamers who want to try something new. There’s very few and far between choices for entry-level players, and refusing to add alternate difficulties for them is lazy at best.

Not to mention, the obsession with “hard” being the default difficulty, propagated by the base game’s “hard” being the default. In most games, “normal” is the difficulty most players would play on- hence the name. FNF has not normalized it as “easy, normal, and challenge”, it’s “easier, easy, and normal”. There’s a stigma against playing on lower difficulties which drives away people with lower skill level or ability to even play in the first place.

The Camellia mod is an excellent example of doing the easy-normal-hard steps right. Easy is easier for lower-skilled players. Normal is the difficulty an average player would be able to play or FC. And the Hard difficulty is challenge mode, for more skilled players wanting a challenge. It was frequently bashed for being too difficult, because players aren’t used to seeing Normal being within their skill level and Hard being out of it.

Do easy and normal charts stink in most FNF mods? Yes. They do in the base game too. But that’s not fault of the genre, that’s fault of the charters who design them. They don’t actually make the charts easier, they just remove notes and make it unfun and clunky to play. In other rhythm games this is different, recharting the song entirely to make the patterns and notes less intense. Making lower difficulties is also an important skill to have, and is much more than just increasing or decreasing numbers in a game.

Accessibility is a crucial part of game development, so please put in the effort to implement it.

[meichenxi]

Hey, could I ask you how you do shadowing? Like the different ways you do it? You mentioned in your tag that shadowing is good and I'd love to hear how you do it! I do not attempt shadowing much so I don't really know what helps, etc. ToT (my studyblr is rigelmejo)

Hellooo! Thank you for the interesting question!

Tbh I think I do it fairly basically - I don’t use any particularly fancy software, but software like Language Learning with Netflix has certainly made it easier. There’s a whole video on how to get the most of it here: [on mobile, link didn't work - How to study Chinese with Netflix! by Chinese Zero To Hero] (I’d recommend checking out all of their videos actually, they’ve done a bunch of livestreams recently and they place a lot of emphasis on shadowing + the course they are trying to sell you is…actually phenomenally good)

(Also, I have to preface this by saying that I have been very lucky in terms of pronunciation: I learnt about 80% of my current vocabulary by ear without characters or pinyin. I have been in China for eight months in total, and while I didn’t speak Chinese for all of that, I was constantly soaking in info on natural sentence intonation. I still often don’t know officially what the tone of a vocabulary item is, especially if it changes tone like 教, 为 or 相, but I don’t get yelled at so I have definitely internalised a lot of those changes. I definitely would have more trouble with this if I hadn’t had that experience - my other areas are waaaay weaker because of this though- my reading SUCKS lmao and I can literally handwrite about ten characters)

Anyway. How I shadow:

1) Quite simply by playing the line, and repeating it with all the emotion it has!! I usually use Netflix or Viki for this. I try to do it as fast as possible, and if I can’t do the whole thing, I ‘chunk’ it: if I were doing the sentence 我们还不知道他会不会来, I would start from the end with 他会不会来, then 不知道他会不会来, and then the whole sentence. Notice that this isn’t breaking it down into words or even grammatical phrases, but intonational phrases: it would be perfectly sensible to just do 会不会来 without the 他 but realistically, since this is a question, it’s likely that a strong stress will be placed on the first 会, and you wouldn’t be able to replicate that without also included the more weakly stressed syllable before.

2) I locate (intentionally or subconsciously) the main locus of stress within the sentence, and I focus on that accordingly. Tones may become less extreme if they are not stressed, and may become more exaggerated if stressed. This is always a good exercise. I accompany this with physical actions - I throw my hands down, I sigh, I groan!

3) I put away the text, and don’t look at the tones or even my computer screen - more on this below.

4) Finally, when I think I’ve got it reasonably accurate, I’ll record them speaking the line into my phone with an appropriate pause for copying and play it back to myself at various points throughout the day.

5) I then go and find other words with the same tone contour to slot in, and copy it again. After that, I find words that are slightly different tonally and pop them in too.

6) I finally do fun things like hold a conversation with myself. This can be really simple phrases imbued with some kind of emotion - 这个女子到底是谁呀？为什么不认识我？应该是新手吧。You can do this either really informally, or very formally, or both - trying to speak in the latter way is very fun! So then it’d be idk something more like: 那位姑娘是何人，来自何处？This is fun because you can really slow down your speech and sound as elegant as you like!! (this will sound stilted if you do it for modern speech, but it’s a very fun exercise)

Choosing your media!!

1) Don’t use donghuas. Seriously. The voice actors usually speak at a ridiculous pace and not with the same range of ‘normal’ intonation

2) Your Chinese is definitely good enough to recognise when anyone is quoting poetry or speaking in a paricularly sexy literary way so, uh…don’t do that. That rules dramas like Nirvana in Fire OUT.

3) Modern dramas and reality TV shows CAN be great, but they can also be quite intimidatingly quick and almost too mushy at times. I’d recommend informal speech in guzhuang dramas more, because they have professional voice actors and extensive sound editing, meaning that although it might be fast and the vocabulary harder, it’s actually much more accessible and easier to copy. You don’t want to be stuck with the awfulness of 50% failed foreigner and 50% 12 year old boy who can’t enunciate properly!!

4) CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON WISELY. I try to find characters that speak in a dramatic, whiny or childish way. This is so important! There’s literally no use copying Lan Wangji unless you want to be able to have that particular cadence and tone of voice you get reciting poetry. Childish/whiny/dramatic characters on the other hand stress some words very strongly, and rush others together - this is great for hearing what actual real speech sounds like. Whininess wins. In The Untamed, characters like Wei Wuxian (not yllz!wwx but just…regular wwx), 一问三不知 Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling, and Jingyi are all great. Also Jiggy, who is just very extra constantly and speaks much slower as well, which really helps. In SHL characters like Gu Xiang are good.

5) CHOOSE YOUR VOICE WISELY! If you are really aiming to copy them 100% (which you should try at least sometimes), you want somebody with your pitch range to sound normal. I have a sort of party trick in Chinese that because I’ve spent so much time listening to women in guzhuang dramas I can change my voice and sound like a) a scheming concubine with honeyed words, or b) the voice of the Beijing metro. My teacher found it hysterically funny. But it’s not my natural voice, and if I speak like that for too long it hurts. The women usually are too high for me, and the big burly manly men too low - so I’d recommend finding a man with a higher voice, or an older woman (like some of the female characters in Nirvana in Fire). Again, sorry that this is mostly the Untamed (I’m just most familiar with it) but the voice actors for Wei Wuxian and some of the juniors (+jiggy) has a higher voice. Likewise Chengling in Word of Honour.

On intonation in general:

- The thing is that whilst shadowing is useful it requires prior ability in a whole bunch of other skills that you can train - it relies on your ability to accurately mimic pitch, emotion and other contrasts. Training this in ANY language, including your native one, will help your ability to do this in Chinese - so I’d recommend spending a fair amount of time practicing shadowing (or speaking just after somebody whilst listening to a string of text, like monolingual simultaneous interpreting) in your native language too. Any training copying accents or mimicking other people is going to similarly help, regardless of the language.

So, with that in mind, further tips:

1) Hum / try to copy the intonation without any words. What this does is force you to pay attention to what the intonation actually is, versus what you may think it should be.

2) Don’t look at the text! Do! Not! Look! At! The! Text! If you look at the characters or pinyin you’re telling yourself ‘ok this is a third tone here’ etc, but you want to override the part of your brain that has gotten into bad habits and is supremely self-confident in how you’re pronouncing the third tone, and actually just go straight back to mimicking.

3) Don’t be afraid to do it with vocabulary that is way beyond your level. Actually, I find this can sometimes be helpful, because you don’t have a prior idea about how a particular tone pair should be useful - and you don’t know which tone you should be producing.

4) Learn vocabulary by ear - listen to a vocab podcast or even make one yourself (I often do this; I record my daily Anki and listen back to it through headphones copying throughout the day - if you’re not confident in your pronunciation you can get Google Translate to do it). Similarly, pick unknown vocabulary out of a longer segment and remember it, trying to internalise the tones instead of figuring out which tone it is.

5) Find emotional sentences, and copy them with emotion. This is SO CRUCIAL!!! We remember things when we relate to them, and when we imbue them with emotion - and it also helps in hearing exactly how an angry second tone sounds, for instance.

6) When you’re copying, look up, and imagine you are having an actual conversation. Carry yourself with conviction and poise!! Really try to whine like wwx or slime like jgy. After a couple of turns copying them, try to turn off the audio and keep delivering it in the same manner.

7) Swap individual words out. Once you have a line properly figured out, swap a word or two that has a different tone pair, and focus on delivering it with the same pattern of stress.

8) Finally, practice doing this in your native language too!! It’s a skill that we don’t use often, and it can be trained. Some people are terrible at it at first go even in their native language, but you can work on it!

About intonation in general:

1) I think a lot of pronunciation problems with people sounding unnatural or stiff ultimately come down to a fundamental misunderstanding of what intonation looks like across different languages. In English we mark it by pitch: and we are so used to the rhetoric that Chinese has ‘tone’ and not ‘intonation’ that we try and focus on blindly copying every single word textbook perfect without listening to how it actually sounds.

2) Chinese does have intonation!!! Except that, unlike English, when you stress a word, the pitch doesn’t change, but the tone contour is exaggerated - basically the only time you will ever hear a full third tone is in isolated or very exaggerated speech. If you have a Chinese friend, get them to record a sentence like the English ‘I didn’t ask her to steal his rucksack’, and put stress on the different elements of it - I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, and so on. Notice and copy how the tones change. When shadowing, you should always be paying attention to where the stress is in the sentence: when you speak by yourself, practicing saying a sentence neutrally, and then with stress on one component, the next, and so on. If it feels unnatural, it’s because you might not have practicised like this before - it’ll get better!

Hope that’s somewhat helpful / interesting!

- 梅晨曦

[fyeah-bangtan7]

Jung Kook: “I think we’d better not ever stop”

We asked Jung Kook to draw anything he wanted for the photoshoot. The photos featured in this article are snapshots while Jung Kook was at work. Even when the photoshoot was finished, he left the studio only when he completed his drawing.

“Butter” has been at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 chart for six weeks straight. (This interview took place on July 12) Jung Kook: I was never attached to rankings, but as good as it is and as happy as I am since we’ve kept setting records since “Dynamite,” it also feels like a burden.

Is it because you’ve been successful beyond anything you could’ve imagined? Jung Kook: Sort of. A huge number of people have given me recognition, so I’ve been going along thinking I have to work harder, but we did even better with “Butter” than with “Dynamite,” so I think I ended up feeling weighed down. That’s what I’m like. BTS is an amazing team, but maybe my problem is that I’m not able to keep up with BTS.

You were the one to set the mood for “Butter” by singing the intro to the song. Didn’t that make you feel good? You were definitely as amazing as the team itself. (laughs) Jung Kook: “Butter” just feels so good. It’s different from our usual style, so it felt different while recording. The song’s great, too. I love that, but it’s separate from that feeling of pressure. I mean, I hope BTS does even better, honestly. Lately I’ve been thinking that that pressure means I need to do better. After “Dynamite” became number one on the Billboard Hot 100, it’s not like we’re being forced to try harder; it’s just my personal ambition. I think I can do better.

Why do you think “Dynamite” wasn’t as satisfying? Jung Kook: Because I couldn’t express everything I wanted the way I wanted to. When I listen to the remixes, I think about how I could’ve sung it differently. Like, “Aw, man! If only I could do it again!” (laughs) I got some things from singing “Dynamite,” like, I’m not quite there yet. So I try to practice singing at least an hour every day, no matter what. Any singer who’s been at number one on Billboard for six weeks had better be really good at singing. That’s what I think.

Something about the way you sang in English probably made you hear your own singing in a new light. Your tone is different from when you sing in Korean. Jung Kook: Sometimes you have to bear down a little on your words to talk in Korean. Plus I’m from Busan, so I speak in a little bit of a low voice. I don’t have that when I use English, though, so it’s like there’s pros and cons. It’s easy to use your head voice when you sing in English as well, but it can be uncomfortable, while in Korean, if you try to sing higher using your head voice, it can sound a bit nasally sometimes. But at the same time, it can be hard to break old habits when I sing in English since I’ve always been singing in Korean.

“Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” are all English songs and you were in charge of the introduction for all three. It seems like you put some thought into how to create different impressions for each song. Jung Kook: “Butter’s” really bouncy, as you know. It’s a little deep, it’s got a driving beat, it’s rhythmical. And before I record, I listen to a recording with guide vocals, and then when I go to record, I have to keep all these characteristics in mind and mix them together with my own style properly in this subtle way. I think it’s seriously an intuition. (laughs) I had a hard time when we were recording, obviously, and when I first did it, my voice didn’t sound right, so I had to keep looking for the right voice. I think the most important thing is to really nail the voice you want to use first, and so is figuring out how to make it your own. In “Permission to Dance,” for instance, I sang it more the way I wanted than the style the guide vocals had.

How do you come to that kind of conclusion? Jung Kook: Everyone’s voice has to sound different, so it can be overpowering if I copy the guide too much when I sing. So sometimes I follow what I’m thinking of exclusively. I was thinking about how I should sing the first part of “Permission to Dance,” and when I went to record it, even Pdogg, the producer, told me, “It’ll work best if you go with your own voice, your own style.”

What effect does listening to so many other artists’ songs and analyzing them have on you? Jung Kook: The more I listen to music, the more my vocals change. It really changes a lot when we get a song and listen to it and practice it. I guess you could say my vocal cords are always readying themselves for improvement when I practice. (laughs) And improving while I record, and just improving any time I sing. But there’s also times when it suddenly doesn’t sound right when I try it the way I want, so I just give it a try, or I quickly look up other vocalists and listen to their songs or ask some of the older artists. Doing that helps me find a certain voice I’m looking for.

You sang uncannily similar to SUGA when you briefly sang his part in “Life Goes On” over V LIVE, even though your voices are different. You’re quick at picking up on the characteristics of others’ vocals. Jung Kook: I used to rely on that a lot. Like, I can hear [the characteristics in their voices] at least. (laughs) Now, though, it’s like, Oh, [I] guess I shouldn’t do it that way. You can safely assume I’ve heard a countless number of other singers’ songs. Then I would think a lot about how I want to sing, thinking how those other singers would sing, before making my own voice. I carry over those people’s voices and vocal patterns and think about how it would sound if they sang in this room, then I think about how it would sound in my own voice, and then sometimes I can make my voice sound similar if I try to.

It seems like it was important for you to find your own style for the performances as well. Not only were the three English songs different from your earlier work, but there were also a lot of parts in “Butter” that you could only perform through gestures and facial expressions. Jung Kook: Before “Butter,” I just worked really hard, and had fun doing it, in whatever way I wanted but starting with “Butter” I think I managed to do things in a more thought-out way. I was more attentive to my facial expressions and movements and thought through what I should do in each situation in each performance to do it in my own style. And it was kind of a fun process. I don’t feel any pressure about that; I just thought I can create that kind of image if I just try to be a little cool and not cringey (laugh) for people from now on.

What image do you want people to have of you, as an artist? One that says, This is who I am as an artist right now. Jung Kook: I don’t think I’m at the level where I need to worry about that yet. I have a general idea about what kind of singer I want to be and what I want to be really good at, but I don’t think I’ve ever imagined defining myself as a certain type of singer yet. Because it’s an ongoing process, when I can prove myself, then, bam!—I give proof and become a truly influential person, only then can I go around saying, This is the kind of singer I am. For now, I don’t have anything, I guess you could say, “substantial” to show off. I think, Even if I’m part of BTS and tour stadiums, does that automatically make me better than other artists? And then, by thinking so, I center myself again.

Couldn’t you be a little softer on yourself? Jung Kook: No. I have to think about the future many times throughout the day. For example, sometimes I spend a whole day doing whatever, but whenever I do, I regret it severely. So I promise myself that I’ll get this and that done. That’s how I live, because if I don’t think that way, I won’t jump into action to get anything done. It’s like the title of our song, “Life Goes On”: the treadmill just keeps on going, and we’re on it, so I always think, I’d better not ever stop. I can express myself better if I think while I talk, and I can organize my thoughts while reflecting back on what I said. I try to think about everything in that way. I think I need to improve, whether it’s at singing or my hobbies—more than now, better than now.

Are you doing particularly well with any of your hobbies these days? It seems like you got a little better at painting, judging by your vlog. Jung Kook: I think I’m getting better overall, little by little. My vocals are where I’ve definitely improved lately. And bowling! (laughs) I learn how to paint by watching videos on YouTube. I think I’m good at picking up skills by emulating others. I’m actually not good at learning things. (laughs) I just like to do what I like to do and I naturally learn from the people around me, I guess. And I think the things I really want to learn are still the same: singing, English, exercise.

Learning from other people and wanting to do better is a form of recognizing who you can compare yourself against. Are you at all influenced by the other members? You’ve talked a lot about how much you’ve been influenced by the six older members. Jung Kook: I think I started paying attention to people other than myself after I moved to Seoul and met the other members. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, but I do notice them now. It’s like I really started to see myself for who I am from that point on.

That makes me think of when you talked about seeing the sights in Seoul for the first time on tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, the way you got to know the feelings the outside world can give. Jung Kook: The first time I saw the streets of Seoul, they were enormous. I was really worried, since I’d just come to Seoul, and I got to know myself because of the change of environment. I think it was the very first time for me to think for myself, and it became the starting point for me to get to know myself.

When you took some candy you liked from the BTS pop-up store, j-hope said you were still the same from when you first met when you were 13 years old. Do you think you haven’t changed at all compared to back then? Jung Kook: In some way I must be better or different on the outside, but I’m sure there’s still things about me that are the same as when I was 13. I learned how to be considerate towards the other members and how to understand them because I fought with them occasionally, but nobody’s going to stop me if I take candy. I take it like I always did. Like when Hobi and I fought over a single banana. (laughs)

But what’s changed about you, then? Being a member of BTS must have had an effect on your view of the world. You sought understanding from your vegetarian viewers when you were eating meat in a salad on V LIVE before. Jung Kook: I thought to ask because I know that many people abroad, and in Korea, too, are vegetarians. It’s one of the things you learn when you tour around many different countries. Obviously I don’t know about every single country’s culture or personal identities or choices, so even though I have a long way to go, I think it’s important to respect them based on what I do know.

I think you must know that you’ve had an influence on a lot of people. Partway into your V LIVE, you talked about how you couldn’t find any of the kombucha you drank before anymore because it was all sold out and you thanked your fans for giving a little help to small business owners. Jung Kook: Restaurants aren’t doing well and there’s a lot of closed-up shops in the markets now, as you know. So if I’ve had an effect on even one person, it’s been worthwhile. And sometimes the people I’ve had an influence on go on to make donations, too. There could always be someone who takes advantage of the things I say or do, but I’m confident a lot of people will use them for good.

This influence is something you’ve crafted with your fandom, ARMY. I imagine you’ve been influenced not only by the other members but also by ARMY since you were young. Jung Kook: There’s a lot going on inside a concert venue: the lighting, the stage, the floor, the stage design, the video projected on the screen. Plus there’s the music, the dancing, and us. Even if they’re all in balance, ARMY has to be there to complete the scene. When it comes to our concerts, ARMY are the ones who bought the tickets and they’re the main characters. I think everything we focus on comes back down to ARMY. We share in each other’s feelings and they’re the source of our strength, and I think they have synergy with us. It’s not enough to just say ARMY and us like each other, or that we love each other. There’s definitely more to it than that. It’s, well—I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words. (laughs)

I think you need ARMY to be there at the concert for you to fully realize the concert you’re aiming for. Jung Kook: Yes, exactly! Even if everything’s set up and we’re in front of the camera, if ARMY’s not there, it’s a completely different concert. Even when ARMY’s there and there’s a live camera broadcasting it, I’m like, There’s a camera? Sure. Obviously I care about it when I have to say hello to ARMY sitting on the other side, in front of their screens. Other than that, I get all my energy from all the ARMY sitting right in front of me. That’s how much they mean to me. It’s completely different.

The concept for BTS 2021 MUSTER SOWOOJOO was similar to being in concert with an audience. It must’ve made you think of ARMY even more. Jung Kook: I’m seriously good as long as I can perform. I can put on more and more concerts in the space of a year if we’re touring. I felt it more profoundly this time since we couldn’t perform with an audience. Wow, I really took things for granted all this time. I should’ve done more.

You must be disappointed. It’s your time to shine as a vocalist and as a performer. Jung Kook: (sighs) I, well, I really need to hurry up and make a mixtape, first of all. (laughs)

How’s your mixtape going? Jung Kook: I was working on it just before I came. But it’s hard! (laughs) I could just make it about myself, and then it would be like, I started as a trainee when I was 13, I worked hard, and found success. But anyone could do that. So I keep thinking I want to make up my own original, complex story and write the songs from there. Billie Eilish’s debut album left a big mark on me when it came out, in that respect. And it’d be nice to have a cohesive flow to the tracklist, but even if it’s all jumbled up, that’s fine, too, as long the good songs keep on coming. That’s sort of what I’m thinking. So these days, rather than focusing on the album’s story as a whole, I’m just going to write whatever it is I want to say in each song. If I get that feeling right after listening to a track, I’ll try and make it. And I’m going to try to make it a little bit light-hearted.

It can’t be easy for you to concentrate on it if you’re making it here and there between all your other work. Jung Kook: It’s fine if it takes a really long time—it’s just hard to work on it in pieces. I mean, if I stay up late working away at it, it’s hard to get through the next day. (laughs) I stayed up all night again last night and slept between appointments today, but I’m still going to keep working like this today and then go work on my mixtape again anyway. I’ll do my best to release it as soon as possible. I want to write and record a lot of material.

s there anything about yourself, other than your work or concerts, that you want to show to ARMY as an individual? Jung Kook: I want to show them, that, umm … Just my real self, Jeon Jung Gook. That I’m fairly easy-going, very honest, and nothing special.

What kind of person do you think you are now? Jung Kook: I’m, I’m a, lazy … person. (laughs).

You’re being very hard on yourself. (laughs) How could you be lazy if you’re a part of BTS? Jung Kook: No, I really am lazy. (laughs) If I were alone I’d probably miss a lot of my appointments. (laughs) But I have to avoid making any mistakes when we function as a group. I’m really lazy, and—oh, I overthink things sometimes. I think more than people might expect, and I do things my way. Plus, even though I don’t care what other people think of me, I kind of still do. (laughs) I have no idea. I’m sort of goofy—? But I’m also trying to live a full life—I’m that kind of person. (laughs).

Thank you for the interview. Oh, by the way, I liked your “Butter” fan cam. Your moves were really agile. Jung Kook: Really? Do you think I’ve gotten better? (laughs).

© source.

[danny-chase]

wait selina had her own protege? Tell me more 🥺

[Image ID: A young girl (maybe like 13-15) with hazel (yellowish) eyes and short brown hair. She's wearing a lot of eye makeup, a little hat with cat ears, and goggles. She wears a tie, pink vest, and grey t-shirt with pawprints. End ID]

Batman (1940) #642

Kitrina Falcone - link to wiki

She was a Catwoman copy cat (haha sorry i couldn't help it) who grew up with her abusive uncle (Mario Falcone - he literally tries to kill her in the arc she's in, she calls him uncle - but others claim she's his little sister and she claims she's Carmine's daughter) and lived on the streets for a while. She looked up to Catwoman and imitated her, but Selina steals some of her maps (i think like blueprints for heists or smth idk) so she breaks in to Selina's house to steal them back.

At this point she was working for Penguin (she bombed a place it was a whole thing) - her map making skills are vital for taking down/locating Black Mask so she's vital (she's doing this for the bounty). And she and Selina get on and Selina gives her a costume and she becomes Catgirl.

[Image ID: Selina Kyle as Catwoman and Kitrina Falcone as Catgirl stand on a rooftop next to each other with the moon illuminating them. The Catgirl costume has a studded silver belt and collar, black claw-like gloves, black leggings, and a black tank. There are pink zagging stripes on the side of the torso and back of her calf that have silver behind them. She also wears pink ankle high converse with a purple cat icon patch on the side. She has a mini cowl with cat ears that are pink on the inside and pink scale-like bracelets/ruffles at the end of her gloves. Narration boxes (Dick): Or in this case, in the reflection I catch out of the corner of my eye - the swift and agile movement in the reflection of the windows across the street. Selina: He's gone, Catgirl. Kitrina: I want to follow him. I bet he has a cool hideout. Selina: No. You have much to learn... and lesson one starts tonight. End ID]

Batman (1940) #697

Idk if she has any appearances as Catgirl, but following her appearances listed in the wiki she lives with Selina for a while until Dick tries to talk her into going to boarding school (with Selina also on board) on orders from Bruce.

[Image ID: Dick and Kitrina argue on a rooftop, Dick as Batman and Kitrina in a white tank top and pink pajama pants. Narration box: I don't have much time to spare on a night like tonight. But Bruce wants Kitrina Falcone out of Gotham. I can't say I disagree. Dick: The Aldridge Boarding School for girls is one of the best in the country, Kitrina. It's everything you need. Kitrina: And nothing I want. Dick: You can't have what you want. I'm taking that away from you. Kitrina Why are you acting like such a dork? I've proven myself. I helped you. Are you forgetting all the - Dick: You're young enough... smart enough to have a normal life. And you're an opportunist... take the one I'm giving yo - Kitrina: No one gives me anything. I take. I have everything I need here. Support. Training. Selina (off panel): Listen to him, Kitrina. End ID]

Batman (1940) #710

Dick lecturing a kid about not being a child vigilante is just jdfklajdkfla hypocrite XD

Anyways from here on, she runs ahead on the case they're working on (i skimmed didn't actually read it) leaving him clues and such it's like the typical young vigilante storyline of being over confident. She gets in over her head, Dick catches up and bails her out - she runs (because this one actually has self preservation instincts unlike the 934758 other batfam characters). Dick gets shot in the head (again - but don't worry the cowl redistributed its impact *sigh* this man has so much head trauma, but comic book logic) by Harvey Dent's wife Gilda no less and wakes up later and finds this letter.

[Image ID: Dick looks down at a paper, bandages are wrapped around his forehead. He's drawn with blocky features there art style isn't doing him any favors. Dick: A letter from Kitrina Flacone. The note reads: Dear Batman, I am writing to keep you from worrying about what became of me. I wouldn't want you to think that "Catgirl" got in over her head. Or was kidnapped, or killed. They show the side of a travelling bus. Note: I'm leaving voluntarily. In fact, I'm going to try out that school you signed me up for. It's probably a dumb idea... but I'm a girl who likes challenges. Kitrina sits looking into the window, seeing her reflection as Catgirl, earbuds in her ears. Note: And putting up with a bunch of rich prissy debutantes will be a challenge. I'm sure I'll put a few of them on their rears by the time it's over. But the point I'm making is, don't count me out. I'll be back. And I will be bad-assed. - Sincerely, K End ID]

Batman (1940) #712

The arc itself is pretty dry and follows a pattern we've already seen from DC comics. Also she's like "I'll be back" and DC just went sike. So. Yeah. Reboot messed her stuff up. It's annoying to me that they made Lian Selina's new protégé or whatever when they already had this storyline right here, and to have Jade drop her off like that is ooc, especially because Roy was right there as well. And while Kitrina might not be for everyone personality wise, I personally would love to see her kick rich kids asses at boarding school. Or just have her train under Selina - because at the least she already grew up watching Selina and trying to emulate her, both in personality and in the skills she taught herself - so the connection for this character is already there - whereas "Shoes" just came out of nowhere.

Another thing I find kind of funny is the popularity of "Stray" fics, because she hits some of the same beats I've heard about (i haven't read any though this is second hand knowledge). To my understanding, when someone (Tim or Jason) is stray, they grow up on the streets trying to escape familial abuse (which she does) and eventually is taken in by Catwoman (which she is) and becomes her protégé (again which canonically happened to this character). Though she doesn't interact with her respective Robin (Damian at the time) too much which i think is also usually a part of said fics.

Anyways here's her being called a stray lakdfjaslfdj

[Image ID: Kitrina as Catgirl slams into a car, Riddler's daughter following after her. Riddler's daughter: I need to warn you. I hate cats. Kitrina is kicked through the cars windshield. Riddler's daughter: Especially strays. Kitrina: Oofh! End ID]

Batman (1940) #711

I have no idea if this is a coincidence or not - this character has very few appearances, which date back to the Dick!Bats era - so i assume most of this fandom doesn't actually know who she is, but it's possible one of the first "Stray" fics used her as inspiration.

Also she freaking bit Dick as Batman which i find hilarious - i know fandom makes a big thing about Damian being a biter but like:

[Image ID: Kitrina bites someone's gloved forearm - it's Dick as Batman but you can't tell from the panel, forcing him to drop a knife. There's a chomp sound effect. Kitrina: What're ya? Crazy?! You're not killing him! Dick: Umff!]

Batman (1940) #696

*CHOMP*

[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

[nerdypanda3126]

An Interesting Little Relationship

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.

The "rules" are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. Except I broke a few rules on this one... so I used I think six sprints total (lost count a bit 😅) and in between sprints I let myself keep writing until I got stuck. 

This time around I used the prompt: "As if life hasn’t been hard enough lately…you just met your soulmate, and they’re not even human. (Supernatural/monster AU)" 

And @airi-p4​ wrote this minific based on a Julie and the Phantoms AU and it all just kinda clicked in my head. Although fair warning for those of you who know the show, I did take away the ability to handle the instruments to play more with the "can't touch real things"... thing.

Read on Ao3 

The question had been on Marinette’s mind ever since she first met Luka. Which wasn’t too out of the ordinary. For those with visible marks, it was often the first thing people noticed. Marks stood out like wedding bands—jet black for those still waiting, brilliant color for those who’d already found their soulmate, a permanent reminder of the first touch. 

Luka had three black marks like smudges across the backs of his fingers, as if he were destined to brush his knuckles against some stranger’s at some point in his life and discover what everyone hoped to. 

The problem was, Luka’s life was already over. 

He and the band had first shimmered into existence when she found their demo buried along with the rest of their things in the attic and popped it into the dormant CD player. As she’d listened, nodding her head along to the punk rock beat and appreciating the skill of the guitarist, suddenly there they were, three ghosts standing right in front of her.

She’d screamed. They’d screamed. Eventually everyone calmed down enough for Luka to explain that her attic was their old studio and introduce his sister, Juleka, and their drummer, Ivan. And as he gestured to himself, her eyes went straight to those three black marks that she’d been watching ever since.  

She rubbed at her own mark—three black streaks on the side of her neck, just below her ear—as they worked on writing a new song together. Luka was brainstorming aloud, pacing back and forth soundlessly, while she handled the pen. 

Touch was tricky for him. If he focused sometimes, he could pick up small things. He’d managed to grab a pick once and strum it across his guitar in its stand and he’d been giddy about it for days afterward. Sometimes it made her think that maybe it wasn’t all that crazy that her marks seemed to match with his. Maybe it was possible… 

“Hey, you okay, boss?” Luka asked, breaking her out of her thoughts as he took a seat next to her on the old couch and laid his arm casually along the back of her seat. She could almost imagine his weight settling into the spot, although of course he himself was weightless. She frowned at the unburdened upholstery under his thighs as if it had personally offended her. 

“Isn’t it weird?” 

“Isn’t what weird?” 

“You can sit there, and you can pick things up sometimes and you don’t go through the floor or anything, but you can’t touch… other things.” 

As if to prove her point, Luka propped his legs up on the small table she’d brought up, crossing his graffitied high tops across her notebook and smirking. She rolled her eyes and went to shove him off out of habit. Her hand passed right through him, making his feet look like a staticky TV picture for a second before they were back to normal. She frowned at them, too. 

Luka seemed to take her meaning because he moved his feet back down and leaned forward on his elbows instead, tracing lazy patterns on her notebook with his painted fingernail as his eyebrows furrowed in thought beneath his blue-tipped bangs. The paper crinkled under his touch in the quiet between them.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he finally agreed. 

She kept her eyes focused on those three black marks. For a moment she fantasized about taking his hand and tracing them, but she knew her hand would pass through his like she was trying to hold onto air. “It just doesn’t make sense,” she started again, “if you can’t touch people, why do you still have your marks?” 

He laid his hand flat on the table, then, considering them. She rubbed at hers again self-consciously.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I guess it’s maybe because I died before I met them. You know, seventeen. I didn’t have much time. Jules still has hers, too.” His eyes flicked to her hand covering her mark. “Why do you ask?” 

“It’s stupid,” she muttered. “I’ve just been wondering if maybe… you know…” 

His eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs as a disbelieving grin spread across his face. She wished she could shove his shoulder or tug his beanie down over his nose or flick the gauges in his ears or do something to him. As it was, she tossed her pen at him, taking what small pleasure she could from it when it passed between his eyes, at least marring that grin for a split second. 

“Shut up,” she said, her face flaming as she turned away. “I told you it was stupid.” 

“What if it wasn’t, though?” he asked. “I mean, you said it yourself, I can touch other things. And who knows how these things really work, right? Maybe it doesn’t have to be a touch, maybe it can be… I don’t know, the intent of a touch, or—” 

“Luka…” His name came out half as a warning and half as a sigh. 

“I’m just saying, maybe we could try. Maybe—”

“It’s not you, Luka,” she said, her tone slipping out with more petulance than she meant it to. Which one of them was she trying to convince, anyways? “It can't be you. You’re—well, let’s face it. You’re a ghost. You're not real. Even if it was you—which it’s not, but if it was—I mean, how would that even work? I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me, and the marks only change when someone touches you for the first time. Everyone knows that’s how this works, and we—” 

She stopped when she caught sight of his face again. Only a moment ago she’d been wishing she could wipe the grin off his face and now that it was actually gone, now that his shoulders were slumping in disappointment and his eyebrows were furrowing again, now she wished she hadn’t brought it up in the first place. 

It hurt more than she thought it would. That maybe he’d thought about it, too, and wanted it as much as she did. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

She felt it when he poofed away a moment later, like a small bubble had popped leaving the atmosphere a little harder to breathe. She groaned and let her head fall against the table with a heavy thunk, then thunked it again a few more times for good measure. 

***

And he did forget about it. Or at least he didn’t bring it up again over the next few weeks, although she did catch him looking at her marks more often. Usually with the same concentration as when he was trying to write his own lyrics down using the pen he was getting better and better at manipulating. 

It wasn’t until she overheard him and Juleka arguing one night that she realized it was even still on his mind. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Luka’s exasperated tone made her pause before opening the door to the attic. 

“She deserves someone real, Jules. Her real soulmate, whoever the lucky bastard is, and I’ll never be able to give her that. I mean, okay, let’s say I do tell her, and by some miracle she wants to give up waiting for her soulmate and be with me. Our options are basically I stay here, forever stuck at seventeen, and I watch her grow old and…” 

The way he trailed off made Marinette picture him turning that focused gaze of his on his guitar as his jaw tensed, the way he sometimes did when his words failed him. It always made her think he wished he could let the guitar speak for him. 

“I mean, she can never have a family with me, we can’t share our lives together,” he continued bitterly after a moment. “Hell, she can’t even tell anyone I exist because they’ll think she’s insane. Or what if I somehow manage to cross over and she’s left to try to figure out how to move on? It’s just…” For once Marinette actually heard him sit heavily on the couch, the leather whooshing out from under him and the supports creaking under the weight of his emotion. “I don’t see the point in telling her.” 

There was a long pause and Marinette was starting to wonder if Juleka was even still in the room with him, but then she heard a sharp smack and Luka’s annoyed protest. 

“The point,” Juleka shot back with more force in her voice than Marinette was used to hearing, “is that I’m sick of watching you moping around like this. And besides, don’t you think Marinette deserves to know?” 

“Well—” 

“Look, maybe you’re soulmates and maybe you’re not. You may never know, right?” 

“Jules, I don’t think you understand—”

“But you love her, don’t you? Regardless of fate or whatever.” 

“Of course, but—”

“So tell her.” Juleka’s voice was like steel and it made Marinette shiver to think of being on the receiving end of it. 

She waited, breathless, for Luka’s response, but she only heard a small pop as one of them left. Tentatively, she pushed on the door and let it swing open. Luka was still on the couch with his head in his hands and his fingers dug into his hair as he stared at his shoes. He didn’t seem to notice her entrance until she knocked on the doorframe. His head snapped up and his eyes widened, but before she could even say ‘hello’ he popped out of the room, too, leaving her mind spinning and her heart pounding. 

***

He wasn’t avoiding her. If anything, they spent more time together now than… before, but he always managed to make sure someone else was around. Her parents, especially, because he knew she wouldn’t talk to him in front of them, but that didn’t stop him from doing those annoying ghost things that drove her crazy. 

Like pushing her plate to the side just as she was about to take a bite, or turning lights off  randomly and grinning at her when her parents wondered about the fuses, or tucking doodles and notes and lyrics torn out of her own notebook but in his scratchy handwriting into her shoes and her hair bands and her backpack and—why did he have to be so infuriatingly adorable? 

She was running out of reasons to explain why she was blushing and smiling so much nowadays. Especially since her mark was as black as ever. 

***

It took a while, but eventually he slipped up. It was a band meeting. Juleka was missing, which wasn’t surprising; she’d been gone more often than not and anytime they asked where she’d been she’d mutter an excuse and hide, blushing, behind her hair. 

So Ivan was acting as Luka’s buffer, preventing her, as usual, from asking him about what she’d overheard, until Luka mentioned a name, Mylène, and Ivan went quiet before he popped away without another word. 

Luka muttered an apology to the air Ivan had been occupying before he froze and turned those same wide eyes on Marinette. She half-expected him to poof out, but instead he picked up his pen and started twirling it nervously through his long fingers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, she huffed out a breath and dove in. 

“I heard everything, Luka.” 

He nodded, flicking his eyes up briefly before focusing back on the pen. “I know.” 

“So? What happens now?” 

He shrugged and leaned back against the couch, avoiding her eyes. “Your call, boss.” 

He was trying to look indifferent, unaffected, but she could tell by the way his pen was still spinning that he was only trying to distract himself. She rubbed at her marks, considering, then shifted closer to him. If he were actually sitting next to her, her knee would be leaning against his. Instead the boundary between them shimmered like a mist. It gave her a strange sense of warmth mixed with melancholy. She put her hand out on her knee, palm up, offering it to him.

All but his pen had frozen when she moved, but when his eyes flicked down to her hand, the pen slipped out of his focus and clattered to the floor. 

She couldn’t help her small giggle at his astonishment. In a daze, he reached out to hover his hand over hers, his fingers arched so that his fingertips were poised on top of hers, but not quite daring to close the distance. 

When he finally did, both of their shoulders fell when his hand passed entirely through her. 

Luka pulled away with a small, bitter chuckle. She flexed her fingers, wishing that they felt any different. It should feel different. It was only because he wasn’t—no, not that he wasn’t real , because he most certainly was. And she couldn’t even say he wasn’t alive either, because Luka was the most alive person she’d ever known. Or at least that’s how he made her feel. So, then, it was only because they were on two different planes of existence. Two different places. That’s why they couldn’t… 

“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have,” he muttered, but when she looked over he was smiling, flexing his fingers the same way she was. 

She nodded to agree. Interesting. That was a good word for it. 

***

“When did this happen?” Marinette asked as Juleka sheepishly moved her long hair aside to show the bubblegum pink mark across the back of her shoulders. 

Juleka shrugged and hid her eyes behind her hair. “I dunno. A week ago maybe?” 

Marinette shared a glance with Luka. About the same time she started disappearing from band meetings, then. She couldn’t help letting her eyes travel down to Luka’s hand. Juleka found her soulmate in the afterlife. That proved it was possible, right? Or what if Luka was meant to find another ghost like Juleka? What if she was actually the one standing in the way of his happiness? What if—

That strange sense of warmth passed through her and she realized Luka had come over to stand next to her and pass his hand through hers. It was a simple reminder of the other day and she got his message loud and clear. 

I choose this. 

If she could’ve, she would’ve laced her fingers through his and squeezed. Instead, she passed her hand back through his, echoing his message with her own. 

Me, too.

***

The ache to touch him didn’t fade. It was always there, tugging at her heart. But it was nice, what they had. She was getting used to his way of being with her. The way he would sit closer now, letting his shoulder not quite brush against hers. Or the way he would reach for her hand, not seeming bothered when it went through her and instead letting his intent speak for him. 

Maybe it wasn’t how she thought things would go. But it was working for them. 

She was leaning over her notebook with her headphones in, focused on writing something for him when it happened.

She didn’t even know he was there. Usually he’d give her some sort of indication that he’d entered the room. A prickle on the back of her neck or an impression of warmth on her cheek or he’d make some sort of noise as he sat down. Maybe he did and she didn’t notice, but she did notice when her hair was gently pushed aside off her neck and it fell over her shoulder instead. She did notice the lingering sense of a featherlight touch. And not the ghostly touch she was used to. An actual touch. 

She froze and pulled her headphones out and turned to find Luka standing behind her with a look of absolute awe on his face, his eyes locked onto the small expanse of skin he’d managed to bare. He’d managed to touch. 

On the side of her neck, just below her ear.  

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he breathed. 

[bpro-cardstories]

Kazuna Masunaga SSR

2019 ー Latte Art [ラテアート]

“Agreed ♪. Well then, let us open “Café Kazuna”!”

『Event: Gift of Thanks for White Day (28th Feb. - 7th March 2019)』

Part 1

ーIn the waiting room.��

Kazuna: ‘ “Café Kazuna”?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes. We received a proposal for a new project, called “Pretty Boy Intelligence Agency”. I heard that Masunaga-san will, in the setting as a café owner, give advice about love matters coming from the audience.’ 

Kazuna: ‘That sounds like an interesting project. Though I’m a bit worried about me as the lead…..’

Mikado: ‘What are you saying! If you need advice, there is no one better suited for this role than you, leader!’

Momotaro: ‘Leader as the owner….. They definitely are a match.’

Kazuna: ‘I hope you’re right.’

Tsubasa: ‘There also seems to be a direction where you give out a latte accompanied with a brief comment at the end of the segment….. I wonder if you will be fine, because you will have to challenge to make art on a latte?’

Kazuna: ‘I heard that latte art is difficult. I don’t know if I can do it well, but I want to try it out.’

Tatsuhiro: ‘….. Are you sure? Leader’s art skill isーー’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Hngh.’

Mikado: ‘Psst! Don’t say any more, Tatsu-dono!’

Kazuna: ‘What’s wrong? Tatsuhiro seems to be in pain…..’

Mikado: ��No, no! There is nothing.’

Kazuna: ‘I-Is that so…..?’

Momotaro: ‘Latte art seems to be quite a bit of work, but the project itself is simple and I think it will make the fans happy.’

Kazuna: ‘You’re right. The smell of coffee can’t reach the outside of the screen, but….. I hope I can create an atmosphere where the people who are watching feel warm and soft.’

Hikaru: ‘I’m sure leader can do it! And then it will become a popular segment. A café with a handsome owner who listens to your worries with a delicious latte is the best! You usually want to go to such a place!’

Mikado (excited): ‘I will also come eight times a week!’

Kazuna: ‘Ahaha, there are also days where one comes twice a day, huh.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, then I will reply to them that it is fine for you.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Yeah. Please do so, Sumisora-san.

Kazuna: ‘If possible I want to practice doing latte art before the actual performance…..’

Tsubasa: ‘Understandable. I will arrange it so that you will be teached by a professional.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Thanks, that’s a big help.’

Kazuna: ‘Though, it’s rude if I don’t know the basics. Should I look them up on the Internet…..’

Mikado: ‘It would be best to look up videos.’

Kazuna: ‘Video, video….. Aah, some look interesting.’

Kazuna: Hee….. There sure are various types of latte art. I need to properly study them before I have the lessons.’

Part 2

ーIn a café, during lesson.ー

Owner: ‘ーーIn this way, drawing something by pouring milk in is a technique called free pour. Let’s try this as a sample.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes, I will try it. First I turn the pitcher to make the milk glossy….. Like this?’

Owner: ‘Yes, that’s good.’

Kazuna: ‘Then, from a high position I pour in the milk…..’

Kazuna: ‘Oh!’

Kazuna: ‘….. I am sorry. I used too much force and it spilled over.’ 

Owner: ‘It’s fine, everyone is like this at the beginning. Come on, let’s try one more time.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes…..!’

Kazuna (concentrated): ‘Pour from a high place…..’

Owner: ‘That’s good, please gradually bring the cup closer.’

Kazuna: ‘Huh….. I can’t make a milk circle?’

Owner: ‘When the pitcher is in a high position, it will cause momentum and the milk mixes with the espresso, unfortunately.’ 

Kazuna: ‘It’s better to bring the cup closer at the last moment….. One more time, please!’

Owner: ‘Of course.’

Kazuna (very concentrated): ‘Pour from a high position….. Bring it closer until the last moment.’

(He was able to make a milk circle in the middle of the cup…..!)

Owner: ‘Great, let’s do a heart shape next.’

Kazuna (smiles): ‘Yes. Cross the center of the circle….. And push your hand through…..!’

Owner: ‘….. Yes, the procedure is correct.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Thank you very much. But….. you can’t say it’s a heart.’ 

Owner: ‘I think the strength you used to cross the milk was too weak. It’s important to use boldness and delicacy properly in each process.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Boldness and delicacy…..’

Kazuna: ‘Can I try it one more time from the start?’

Owner: ‘Of course. Let’s keep trying.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes!’ _________

Owner: ‘Now, please carefully shake the pitcher to create a layer.’

Kazuna: ‘Carefully, but without stopping the flow…..’

(That’s the 20th attempt….. I hope this time it works.)

Kazuna: ‘At the end, push through….. With great force!’

Tsubasa: ‘!’

Kazuna: ‘….. Did it work…..?’

Tsubasa: ‘You did it, Masunaga-san! It is such a beautiful heart…..!’

Owner: ‘I agree, the layer, as well, is clean, how wonderful. A result that can be served to the customers.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Thank you very much…..!’

Owner: ‘If you master the basics of the heart shape, then you can apply them to other patterns. Let’s practice making a stable heart after a short break.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes, I look forward to it.’

Kazuna: ‘Fuu…..’

Kazuna (shocked): ‘….. Oh.’

Tsubasa: ‘Masunaga-san?’

Part 3

Tsubasa: ‘Did something happen?’

Kazuna: ‘No…. I didn’t think my failures were like this, so I was shocked just now. I was too focused to notice.’ 

Kazuna: ‘I am sorry, owner. I was being wasteful….’ 

Owner: ‘No, don’t worry about them. That’s something you can’t avoid.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Thank you. But…. Is it fine to drink them, since I have already made them? All of them may not be possible, but I feel sorry for throwing them away.’ 

Owner: ‘Yes, of course. Please don’t overdo it.’

Tsubasa: ‘May I also join you?’

Kazuna: ‘Sumisora-san…. Thanks.’

Owner: ‘Well, then I shall join as well.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes, please.’

Kazuna: ‘…. Hm. This latte is…. Really delicious….’

Tsubasa: ‘It really is! I do not mind that the latte is already cold.’

Kazuna: ‘You’re right. It’s not only the taste, but also the smell of it is really great…. I was distracted by the technique of the latte art, but I can understand very well why the owner is so particular about the taste.’ 

Owner: ‘Haha, it makes me happy, when you can say that. Especially this time, as we are using beans of the best quality.’

Kazuna: ‘Is it fine to use such high-quality beans during practice?’

Owner: ‘That’s because it’s practice. I always do that so that one doesn’t feel like it’s okay to waste them.’ 

Kazuna: ‘I understand….’

Kazuna: ‘Huh? But this is the first time that I am told this….’

Owner: ‘I didn’t say something, because I thought it was unnecessary in your case. Masunaga-san surely is a person that doesn’t waste beans for nothing, no matter what quality.’ 

Kazuna (surprised): ‘Owner….’

Owner: ‘As someone who handles food and drinks, this is an important quality. You can become a great owner yourself.’ 

Kazuna: ‘Thank you very much. This time I am going to play the role of “the owner” for work, but….  I firmly face my feelings as if I were a real owner. I wish to serve the person asking for advice a delicious and beautiful latte with a feeling of relief.’ 

Owner: ‘Indeed. I will do my best to help you.’

Kazuna: ‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’

(It looks like Masunaga-san’s honest feelings were conveyed…. I really think he can become a great owner.) 

Part 4

Hikaru: ‘I’m coming in!’

Kazuna: ‘Hello. A table for five?’

Mikado: ‘Tunk! We’re greeted by a handsome owner ♪.’

Hikaru: ‘Leader is a superb owner! Is this here the rumoured “Café Kazuna”!?’

Tatsuhiro: ‘My bad, leader. Even though you’re practicing, it’s so noisy.’

Kazuna: ‘No, I’m sorry to have you come with me. Since today will be the last practice, I wanted to hear everyone’s thoughts.’  

Mikado: ‘That much is no problem! Right, Momotasu?’

Momotaro: ‘Yeah. I came looking forward to a delicious latte.’

Kazuna: ‘Then I will prepare the cups without much delay. Sumisora-san, take a seat as well.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Thank you very much.’

Kazuna: ‘At first, from the basic heart….’

Kazuna: ‘Here it is, enjoy.’ 

Hikaru: ‘Ooh~! It’s really a heart!’

Momotaro (smiles): ‘There are so many layers of milk. It’s delicious….’

Kazuna: ‘Yes, that’s the leaf shape.’

Mikado: ‘Eeh! You are able to do such a difficult shape!?’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Even though you only poured in the milk, that’s amazing….’

Kazuna: ‘Fufu, thanks. It’s all thanks to the guidance of this store’s owner.’

Hikaru: ‘Say, say, can you also do things like animals or characters?’

Kazuna: ‘That’s etching. We practiced that, too, more or less, but….’

Mikado (excited): ‘Yes, yes! I request Mamirin!’

Momotaro: ‘Mika, that’s probably difficult to do. There are many parts as well.’

Mikado: ‘Hhm, it does seem so….’

Hikaru: ‘Here, here! Then I want to request a cute dog!’

Kazuna: ‘A cute dog, huh. Of course.’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Oh, very owner-like….’

Kazuna: ‘Here you have it. A latte with a small dog.’

Hikaru: ‘Ooh~!’

Hikaru: ‘…. O-Ooh~!?’

(A, A latte with a mysterious life-form….)

Tatsuhiro: ‘Ooh…. It’s as you imagine it, in a way….’

Momotaro: ‘It’s fine, it has eyes, a nose and ears. It’s unmistakably a dog.’

Kazuna (smiles): ‘The point I’m particular about is the laughing mouth.’

Hikaru: ‘Eh, that’s a mouth!?’

Mikado: ‘Cough, cough!’

Mikado: ‘Eh, this is a wonderful workmanship, but the level of art is too high that it may not reach the audience.’

Kazuna: ‘I see…. It’s something I’m proud of, but that’s difficult.’

Tatsuhiro: ‘The recording of the program should be soon, isn’t it? The latte seems to be no problem, but how about the part with giving advice?’

Momotaro: ‘It was love counseling, if I’m not wrong. That sounds quite hard.’

Kazuna (shocked): ‘Ah…. Indeed, you’re right. I didn’t think to this point. I don’t know the content of the consultation until the actual day, but it may be better to do a simulation of it.’

Hikaru: ‘Why do it now! We’re here after all!’

Mikado: ‘Agreed ♪. Well then, let us open “Café Kazuna”!’

Part 5

Hikaru: ‘Owner, listen, listen~.’

Kazuna: ‘Yes, if you are fine with me.’ 

Hikaru: ‘I have someone I’m interested in, but what should I do to make myself appealing?’

Kazuna: ‘Hm, let me see….’

Kazuna: ‘I am sorry that I can not say anything concrete, but is it not fine to meet them as you are now? If you force something, then it will be painful. You will not be able to continue for long.’

Kazuna: ‘…. But, if you decide to act with the person you like in mind, that’s very wonderful I think. I will support you.’

Hikaru: ‘Kyaah! Thanks, leaー, no, owner!’

Mikado (excited): ‘Owner, please listen! The person I like is sending me JOIN messages every day, does that mean they have an interest in me!?’

Hikaru: ‘Ooh, what a somewhat realistic matter….!’

Kazuna (smiles): ‘I see…. If the messages have some simple content, there might be some interest on their end. I would be happy if I could exchange a good morning with the person I like.’

Mikado: ‘Then he also likes me….!?’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Are you in a girl setting, or what.’

Hikaru: ‘Mikako, confess already~!’

Momotaro (surprised): ‘Hikaru as well….?’

Kazuna: ‘…. However, if the content is about work or something practical, then it may be better to think about it calmly one more time.’

Hikaru & Mikado: ‘Ooh~.’

Hikaru: ‘That feels kind of correct!’

Mikado: ‘In reality I do not have to worry about this, but I feel relieved…. For the time being, there is no such interest!’

Momotaro: ‘About that, I wonder if the JOIN messages were business ones.’

Tatsuhiro: ‘I’m glad you cooled off, Sekimura….’

Hikaru: ‘Here, here! I also want to try out the role of the owner! Tatsu, ask me for advice!’

Tatsuhiro: ‘What!? Impossible, absolutely impossible.’

Mikado: ‘It is fictional, so isn’t it fine? Come on, set your feelings free, Tatsumi-san!’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Who’s Tatsumi!!’

Hikaru: ‘Hahaha! Tatsumi - that sounds nice!’

Momotaro (smiles): ‘Tatsumi is a shy person, isn’t she. It can’t be helped then.’

Tatsuhiro: ‘Hey, Onzai, are you against me, too….!?’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu.’

Kazuna: ‘Sumisora-san.’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes?’

Kazuna: ‘Here, please.’

Tsubasa: ‘Waah. A latte with a heart flower…. How cute. I feel like I am seeing this pattern for the first time.’

Kazuna: ‘It’s a tulip. To be honest, I practiced, so that I could show it to Sumisora-san.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh, to me?’

Kazuna: ‘You were busy, yet you came with me to many practices. I wanted to give you the most beautiful art I can manage.’

Tsubasa: ‘Thank you. It somehow is a waste to drink….’ 

Kazuna: ‘Don’t hold back. When I get better in the future I want to try making an original character for Sumisora-san.’

END

[moiraineswife]

Not A Single Lecture - A Shallan & Jasnah Fic

Hello! ‘Tis I!! Again!!!! Two posts in one week, hoo boy, I’m exhausted. Don’t get used to it. 

Title: Not A Single Lecture

Rating: T? Bc I never know how to rate these. but there’s discussion of murder so u know. Content warnings: mentions of attempted assassination

Summary:  Shallan was disappointed by the way her reunion went with Jasnah in Oathbringer after her miraculous return from the dead. So I gave her a better one. Or, rather, a more private and personal one.

After her arrival at Urithiru after being thought dead, Shallan visits Jasnah and returns one of her most precious possessions to her personally.

Teaser: ‘“I know that servants delivered the trunk I managed to rescue from the sinking,” Shallan said, and Jasnah nodded.

“That was greatly appreciated, Shallan,” she said, with a small smile and a grateful nod, “Although I do note that some terrible fate befell its lining?”

Shallan blushed slightly, then noted the twinkle in Jasnah’s eye and smiled back, “It gets really cold up in the Frostlands, Brightness,” she said.

“I can imagine,” Jasnah said drily, reclining in her chair. ��I am sorry for what you went through, Shallan. I should have taken greater precautions to prevent such an eventuality, I-”

“Brightness,” Shallan interrupted, finding a flicker of boldness in herself, “If you’re about to apologise to me, again, for someone trying to assassinate you, please don’t.”

Link: AO3

Shallan stood outside Jasnah’s chambers in Urithiru feeling like an acrobat standing on the precipice of a platform, preparing to leap from it, hoping they would be caught instead of crashing to the floor and making an unsightly splat. 

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself, It’s only Jasnah! You’ve faced down chasmfiends and Voidbringers, for the Heralds’ sake! You can do this. 

If only those kinds of thoughts worked to quiet her anxieties. If they did, she supposed, then she wouldn’t have any anxieties in the first place, so that was kind of a stupid line of reasoning. Jasnah wouldn’t have been impressed by it. 

Storms. She had grieved for this woman! She had felt pain almost daily after her death, renewed again when she’d brought news of it to her family on the Shattered Plains. 

She had been thrilled to hear that her mistress had survived the terrible events of that night - for which Jasnah had apologised to her. As if she was to blame for someone stabbing her through the chest and- 

No. She was not going to think about that again. Not now. She had another task, another reason for being here. 

While her reunion with Jasnah had, upon reflection, gone exactly as it probably should have, there was a part of her that wanted something closer to the fanciful imaginings her mind had conjured up. 

She hadn't expected tears and fond embraces - from Jasnah? That would just have felt strange. But she did want something a little more than what Jasnah had given her. 

Taking a deep breath, paper crinkling against her chest where she held it pressed with her safehand, Shallan reached up and knocked. 

“Yes?” Jasnah’s smooth voice replied, and Shallan pushed the door open. 

“Brightness?” she said, peering around the door, feeling like a chull peeking out of its shell to check if the storm had passed and it was safe to emerge, “I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment? If you’re too busy that’s fine, I can come back later, or never, if that's what you want, but-” 

“Not at all, Shallan, please come in,” Jasnah said graciously, gesturing at one of the chairs beside the desk area she had set up for herself already. 

Shallan walked in, forcing herself to walk and not creep, and took the chair, looking around. 

The chambers were utilitarian, without ornamentation or artwork on the walls. Just the required furniture. Very Jasnah. 

It was an internal chamber without a balcony, or even windows. That made Shallan shudder, just slightly. It made her feel closed in and trapped. 

She would have thought, after what had happened below decks on the Wind’s Pleasure, that Jasnah would have wanted to be able to see the open sky and outside world. She certainly did.

Apparently the woman felt more comfortable in this sealed box of a chamber. Only one entrance or exit. It was all very practical, but Shallan didn’t think she could live that way. Not again.

“What can I do for you, child?” Jasnah asked, actually putting down her pen, a sign of great respect, from Jasnah, and clasping her hands in front of her, surveying Shallan over them. 

The sound of her voice recalled Shallan from her vague analysis of Jasnah's living space, and she remembered abruptly why she had come.

“I know that servants delivered the trunk I managed to rescue from the sinking,” Shallan said, and Jasnah nodded. 

“That was greatly appreciated, Shallan,” she said, with a small smile and a grateful nod, “Although I do note that some terrible fate befell its lining?” 

Shallan blushed slightly, then noted the twinkle in Jasnah’s eye and smiled back, “It gets really cold up in the Frostlands, Brightness,” she said. 

“I can imagine,” Jasnah said drily, reclining in her chair. “I am sorry for what you went through, Shallan. I should have taken greater precautions to prevent such an eventuality, I-” 

“Brightness,” Shallan interrupted, finding a flicker of boldness in herself, “If you’re about to apologise to me, again, for someone trying to assassinate you, please don’t.” 

Jasnah smiled again at that, tapping the tips of her fingers on the table the way she did when she was considering something.

“Yes,” she mused finally, “It does sound a little ridiculous when set out that way, doesn’t it?” 

Shallan nodded firmly. 

“Very well," Jasnah said, as though reaching some grand philosophical conclusion she'd had to wrestle with for some time, "I will not shift the blame for someone attempting to murder me, and catching you in the crossfire, onto myself in future.” 

“Good,” Shallan said, and Jasnah smiled again. 

She did have a nice smile. It was small, and subtle, barely a tugging at the corners of her mouth, but it suited her. Shallan took a Memory for later sketching. 

“So,” Jasnah said, in a more business-like tone, “Now that we have that squared away, I assume there was something you wanted with me, Shallan?” 

“Yes,” she said and, feeling unaccountably nervous, she leaned forwards and set the paper down on the desk between them. “You see, the servants returned all of your things to you but I,- Well I found this among them while I was travelling, and I put it with my things. I thought, now that you’re not dead, you might like it back.” 

She watched Jasnah lean forwards and pick up the paper delicately and examine it, expression unreadable.

It was the sketch that Shallan had done for her as a gift when she had confirmed her as her ward back in Kharbranth. The one she’d been so startled to find kept safe with the things Jasnah considered most precious. 

Jasnah stared at the piece for a long time, then set it down very carefully and smiled, more widely this time. Still gazing down at it, she brushed a finger lightly over the lacquered surface with what Shallan could have sworn was fondness.

“I looked for this among my things when they were returned to me,” she said, quietly. 

She’d looked for it? Really? Shallan found herself startled. Surely there had been more important things she'd wanted to see to than a silly picture?

“I had been sure it was in the trunk with my notes, but when I couldn’t find it there, I assumed it had been lost," Jasnah continued. 

Her fingers traced the delicate lines pressed into the paper, looking at it as though it was an ancient map leading to treasure within Urithiru.

“I was surprised to find it in there,” Shallan found herself saying, “I kind of assumed you would have just thrown it away.” 

Idiot! What in Damnation did you say that for!? She scolded herself, while Pattern buzzed in a way that sounded almost...Judgemental. 

Jasnah looked up, finally, at those words  “Why would you assume that?” she asked, brow creasing into a slight frown, sounding truly bemused. 

Well, there were probably only a few people on Roshar who could say they had genuinely bemused Jasnah Kholin, so yay for that! 

On all other counts, Shallan found herself blushing. That was nothing Jasnah hadn’t seen from her before, but storms, she’d been getting better at not doing that every time someone so much as looked at her. Mostly. 

“I just,” she stammered, stumbling over the words, “You never seemed that interested in the visual arts, or in my sketching. I didn’t think you would find that much worth in it. I- I was pleased that you kept it, obviously! Just...Just surprised.” 

Jasnah sighed at that, and her shoulders seemed to slump for a moment, before she automatically reasserted control over her posture and expression. 

“I fear I may have disparaged your skill in drawing far too much, early on, Shallan. You have my deepest apologies for that,” she glanced up and met Shallan’s eyes, seeing her open mouth and added swiftly, before she could speak, “Yes. Again. And this time I will not be reasoned into retracting said repeat apology,” she said firmly

Shallan blushed some more, because why not commit to it now she had started? But she smiled slightly as well. It was just so very Jasnah. 

She hadn’t realised quite how fond she was of her until this moment. It was familiar, reminding her of the times they had studied and connected together in Kharbranth. She had missed that more than she could say.

“Regardless,” Jasnah continued, glancing back down at the sketch, “This was something you gave me as a gift. Something that you obviously poured a lot of time, and love, and skill into. Even if I did not appreciate what you created - which, for the avoidance of any lingering doubt on the subject, I do - that alone would make it worth treasuring to me.” 

Shallan opened her mouth but, for once, found that she couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Witty or otherwise. 

Genuine emotion was not something you saw very often from Jasnah Kholin. She wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Pattern decided to intervene, “Mmm, that was very kind, Jasnah,” he buzzed happily, dimpling the paper under her hands and making her start, “I am glad that you did not die!” 

Shallan burst out laughing at that, unable to help herself. 

She should probably have felt mortified at his intrusion into their conversation. But, well, it had broken the tension nicely. And it actually summed up her own feelings on the matter pretty well.

“I am rather thrilled by that as well, Pattern,” Jasnah replied drily, as though that had been a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

Pattern hummed more happily than ever, spinning around on the desk top like a drunk cremling. 

“Thank you,” Shallan said quietly, pulling her attention away from her incorrigible spren to focus on her former mistress. 

Jasnah nodded to her. Shallan reached across the table and gently gripped her hands. She seemed a little surprised at the contact, but did not pull away, so that was something.

“And for the avoidance of any doubt,” Shallan added, with a wry grin, “I’m glad you didn’t die too, Jasnah.” 

“Life is much more interesting around you,” Pattern chimed in, apparently thinking their favourable reaction to his earlier comment had invited him to join in this conversation in full, “Such a fascinating human," he hummed happily, "It would have been such a waste if the stabbing had been permanent!” 

Shallan covered her face with her hands in embarrassment, but was relieved to see that Jasnah looked amused, rather than affronted, by this assessment of the situation. 

“I am glad you find me such a curious specimen for your research, Pattern,” Jasnah said, smirking as if she knew exactly what she was tempting with that comment. 

Pattern buzzed happily, and began to reply, but Shallan slapped a hand over him to stop him, “We have to meet Adolin,” she said firmly, cutting across him and getting to her feet. 

She did not want to hear Pattern’s thoughts on Jasnah as a specimen. Not in front of Jasnah, at least.

“We do?” he asked, his buzzing sounding amusingly muffled, as though her covering him with her hand actually effected his ability to project sound, “But I thought-” 

“You thought wrong!” she interjected, hurriedly. 

Then turned to Jasnah and gave her a little flustered bow, of all things, “It was good to see you, Brightness.” 

“And you, Shallan,” Jasnah returned, looking as regal and poised as ever, but also vaguely entertained. 

Shallan hesitated, dithering on the spot, then, before her nerve could fail her, she darted forwards and gave Jasnah a quick hug. The woman tensed at first, but relaxed into it graciously and patted her on the back. 

With that, Shallan turned, blushing yet again, and hurried from the room, feeling more satisfied now that she’d had a better reunion with Jasnah. And not a single lecture in sight. 

***

FEED ME. feed me: ur thoughts.

[iwanthermidnightz]

When she was 18, Taylor Swift wrote a song called “Fifteen.” “Back then I swore I was going to marry him someday, but I realized some bigger dreams of mine,” she sang, sounding more like a wizened great-grandmother than a rising senior.

“Fifteen” is evocative, if a little sanitized: Nimble mandolin strums mimic the nervous-excited butterflies of the first day of high school, as Swift sings of wide-eyed hope that “one of those senior boys will wink at you and say, ‘You know I haven’t seen you around before.’”

There was a certain emotional truth to the lyrics — do several years’ age difference ever seem more consequential than when you’re a teenager? — but some older listeners were skeptical. “You applaud her skill,” wrote a critic for the Guardian in a mixed review of Swift’s second album, “Fearless,” “while feeling slightly unsettled by the thought of a teenager pontificating away like Yoda.”

Swift, now 31, sings, “When you are young they assume you know nothing,” on “Folklore,” an LP that is both compositionally mature and braided throughout with references to the specific, oft-denigrated wisdom of teenagers. By the end of that song, “Cardigan,” the narrator has excavated such a heap of florid but emotionally lucid memories that she must conclude, with the force of a sudden revelation, “I knew everything when I was young.”

Though it’s not as flashy a topic as exes, fame or A-list celebrity feuds, age has long been a recurring theme in Swift’s work. A numerology enthusiast with a particular attachment to 13, Swift has also released a handful of songs whose titles refer to specific ages: “Seven,” “Fifteen,” and, of course, “22,” the chatty “Red” hit on which she summed up that particular junction of emerging adulthood as feeling “happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time.” Like her contemporary Adele, Swift seems to enjoy time-stamping her music, sometimes presenting it like a public-facing scrapbook that will always remind her what it felt like to be a certain age — even if, with their millions of fans and armfuls of Grammys, neither of these women is exactly typical.

Swift’s critics have often seemed even more hyper attuned to her age. Perhaps because precocity played such a role in her story from the beginning — at 14, she became the youngest artist to sign a publishing deal with Sony/ATV; at 20, she became the youngest to win the album of the year Grammy — many listeners have been fascinated with how her evolution into adulthood has, or hasn’t, played out in her songs. People comb Swift’s lyrics for allusions to sex, alcohol and profanity as meticulously as MPAA representatives do a borderline-PG movie. Particular attention was paid to her 2017 album “Reputation” and its several mentions of drunkenness and dive bars — even though Swift was 27 when it came out.

The relative puritanism of Swift’s music up until “Reputation” did feel like an intentional decision: Unlike the female pop stars who broadcast their “loss of innocence” as a sudden and irrevocable transformation, Swift seemed acutely conscious that she did not want to repel younger listeners — or lose the approval of their parents. At best, it felt like an acceptance of her status as a role model; at worst, it had the whiff of a marketing strategy.

But the mounting obsession with whether Swift was “acting her age” also reflected a larger societal double standard. Famous or not, women face much more intense scrutiny around age, whether it’s those constant cultural reminders of the biological clock’s supposed ticking or the imperative that women of all ages stay “fresh-faced” or risk their own obsolescence. (“People say I’m controversial,” Madonna said in 2016. “But I think the most controversial thing I have ever done is to stick around.”) And while girlish youth and ingenuity are rewarded in some contexts, they’re also easily dismissed as silly and frivolous as soon as that girl strays too close to the sun — as Swift has experienced time and again.

Despite having once been a teenage girl myself (unlike a lot of music critics), I confess that I am not completely free of these internalized biases. I was initially dismissive of “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince,” a song that appeared on Swift’s 2019 album “Lover.” The first few times I heard it, I wondered what a grown woman on the cusp of 30 was doing still writing about homecoming queens and teenage gossip.

But over time, I’ve come to appreciate the song and its dark vision, which acknowledges cruelty, depression and the threat of sexual violence (“Boys will be boys then, where are the wise men?”) more directly than any of the songs Swift wrote when she was an actual teenager. The senior boys in this song are not the sort who wink and say to freshman girls wholesome things like, “Haven’t seen you around before” — which, unfortunately, makes them feel more authentic. Even the title “Miss Americana” alludes to a larger world outside the high school walls, and the greater systemic forces that keep such patterns repeating well into adulthood.

“Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” now feels like a precursor to some of the richest songs on “Folklore,” which finds Swift returning once again to her school days with the keen, selectively observant eye of an adult. Consider “Seven,” an impressionistic recreation of her perspective at that age. The second verse, charmingly, plays like a first-grader’s breathless sequence of unguarded observations:

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why/And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates, then you won’t have to cry.”

But “Seven” is not cutesy so much as poignant, because of the tensions that result when Swift’s adult perspective interjects. “Please, picture me in the trees, before I learned civility,” she sings in a yearning soprano, prompting the listener to wonder what sorts of feral pleasure she — and all of us — have exchanged for the supposed “civility” of adulthood.

Quite a few songs on “Evermore,” Swift’s second release of 2020, also toggle between past and present, conscious of what is lost and gained by the passage of time. The playful “Long Story Short” passes a note to Swift’s younger self (“Past me, I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things”), while “Dorothea,” like “Seven,” revisits a fevered childhood friendship from the cool perspective of adulthood.

Most striking is the bonus track “Right Where You Left Me,” a twangy tale of a “girl who got frozen” (“Time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it/She’s still 23, inside her fantasy”). That language echoes something Swift admits in the 2020 Netflix documentary “Miss Americana”: “There’s this thing people say about celebrities, that they’re frozen at the age they got famous. And that’s kind of what happened to me. I had a lot of growing up to do just trying to catch up to 29.”

But Swift’s recent songs, at their best, understand that “growing up” isn’t always a linear progression in the direction of something more valuable. Take the “Folklore” songs “Cardigan” and “Betty,” which use an interconnected set of characters to chronicle teenage drama and celebrate the heightened emotional knowledge of youth. “I’m only 17, I don’t know anything, but I know I miss you,” Swift sings in the voice of James, a high schooler who broke Betty’s heart and has shown up on her doorstep to ask forgiveness. Maybe that is a melodramatic thing to do; maybe it is the sort of thing adults could stand to do more often. Swift’s music helps us to remember that growing up doesn’t automatically mean growing wiser — it can just as easily mean compromise, self-denial and growing numb to emotions we once felt with bracing intensity.

In a gesture to regain control of her songs, Swift is currently rerecording her first six albums (her master recordings were recently sold by Scooter Braun’s Ithaca Holdings to the investment firm Shamrock Capital). Last month she released a note-for-note update of her early hit “Love Story,” and has promised to release an entire new-old version of “Fearless (Taylor’s Version)” later this year. It has been amusing to think of Swift going back and inhabiting the voice of her teenage self: On the face of it, “Fifteen” is particularly surreal to imagine her singing as an adult.

In another way, though, “Fifteen” — with its distant reflections on the youthful folly of expectations — makes more sense and carries more emotional weight being sung by a 30-something than it does an 18-year-old. Perhaps Swift was preparing for such an exercise when she made “Folklore,” an album that shakes off years of scrutiny and finds her reveling in the creative freedom to be as young or as old as she wants to be.

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 3] (Obsession)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

There’s no chance of getting out of this. Our mentor must be out of their mind. No smooth sailing this period, not for me. Nothing at all has prepared me for this point in time.

My heartbeat rises by the second. At the brink of jumping out of my chest. I constantly try to reassure myself as I prepare. Forcing the illusion that I have everything together.

I most definitely don’t have anything, not a crumb, together.

My hands sweat with anticipation, my wand almost slipping off multiple times. The magical stick even wants to run away from this situation. I’ll start running with it soon enough.

The whole room is quiet in expectation. The tension levels in this area are too high for me to even start to comprehend. All I can hear is the sounds of my breathing and the occasional ruffle of robes. The high regard these people hold for me isn’t doing me any favors. I’m about to ruin any confidence anyone holds in my skills.

My friends are holding their thumbs up for encouragement. It does little to calm my panic, but I appreciate the effort anyway. Other acquaintances from the same house nodded their heads in an attempt to console my emotions.

Before the teacher signals to start, he gives us a bit to come up with a plan. Ten seconds at most. Now, this isn’t something possible to win. Not against him, no. My only goal here is to last as long as I can and don’t mess up.

Act smart, seem like you know more than you do.

He looks as easy-going as ever. This may seem like a walk in the gardens to him. No “threat” whatsoever to make him feel uneasy. I’m quite irritated at the thought of being anything but a challenge. He may be a little right, but that doesn’t help my ego.

Easy, I’m nothing easy.

Riddle might be stronger at this, but that doesn’t mean I'm complete garbage. I can hold my own, I will hold my own.

My breathing patterns change into more of a deep inhale and exhale. Focusing on completely dropping my heart rate and keeping my thoughts intact. Madam Rose, the school nurse, hates seeing me walk in there. Frequent visits from dealing with plants has her hair getting pulled out. I don’t think Miss Rose would be too keen on me passing out from the lack of oxygen.

“Only stick with the one basic spell of force. For both offensive and defensive tactics.”

Riddle’s atmosphere surrounding him is focused, deadly. He hasn’t moved his gaze from my lips. Probably on guard for whenever I cast something. I’m slightly unsteady on my feet from nerves. It’s almost suffocating being under all these watchful eyes.

A snake takes their time to strike. They examine all angles where you may be weak. Testing the vulnerability of your actions and thinking process. A few testing snaps of their mouth can tell them how the fight will go. They are well-balanced and focused, masters of intimidation.

Breathing.

Oxygen informs the snake how much you’re able to hold on for. The more you intake, the tighter it gets. Restricting the amount of oxygen the prey respires. Until they are physically unable to anymore, slowly weakening. The fight they were presenting lessens to almost non-distinguishable. The prey’s struggling to get free, dying down. Then it passes away, openly given to the snake without any more thought. A mere temporary meal in its eyes.

“Begin.”

Our eye contact is steady, neither of us moving an inch. Our mouths are closed shut, wands at the ready. I slightly squint my eyes while I focus. If he’s waiting for me to go first he is out of luck. I’m not budging, we will stay in the same position until next period if we have to.

Riddle also slightly squints his eyes. His hand doesn’t shake even if his wand was out in the air for a long time. The arm he holds out is steady and unmoving. Nothing triggers my attention since his movements are of little importance. I search his eyes for any life, no emotion is found swirling in those charcoal black eyes. Absolutely brilliant and fierce when focused or aggravated. The class starts getting rowdy, finally allowed to talk since Riddle just made the first move.

There’s only one spell I need to remember, that makes it a little easier to think of ways to find my opening. I quickly revert the spell away from me and send it right back. A tennis match is played between that one spell. Tom huffs and sends his enchantment straight towards the ground. It bursts into tiny magical specks of green. During that time I sent a spell his way.

After a while, I start to notice right before he casts a spell he moves his mouth like he inhales to take a breath. I’ve noticed him do it quite often. Since he casts fairly quickly there wasn’t much to go off of. Not much to use to my advantage. When he “inhales” he’s most of the time not actually breathing in air. It’s just a simple movement he does. It might be because of his accent, the way he learned to talk. Quite a small little quirk of the lips.

To start testing out this theory I centered most of my attention on his mouth. Waiting to see if my theory was reliable enough to depend on. He’s starting to gain more offensive attacks on me. Most of my spells undecidedly move more defensive by the minute.

Right before he mutters the words, I send a spell of my own. The magic aiming for his knees. Before he could defend himself from that one I prepared another offensive conjuration to his wand. He forwarded an incantation my way and I hurriedly obviated the sorcery as it was also heading to my stifle joint. Some of the force still slightly makes contact with my left knee. My balance is suddenly thrown off.

As I scramble to catch my footing, Riddle with point accuracy parries my wand attack. Then diverts my knee attack towards my right knee. Since I was focused on stabilizing my posture I didn’t notice the spell approaching my other knee

Forthcoming my inevitable demise.

I end up planting both hands on the ground. My knees falling one after the other from the pressure.

Our audience starts yelling complaints and praise. Calls for a rematch and cheats. My loss was bound to happen, but I did get to do that three combo. Two offensive and one defensive, all in the span of 5 seconds. Not too bad if I say so myself.

“Mr. Riddle wins this duel. Excellent job to the both of you. A very good strategy was well thought out for each side.”

I make my way down the steps on my platform’s side. Immediately being greeted by hugs and pats on the back.

At least my feet didn’t get tied together from restlessness causing me to fall and he wins the duel immediately. I would have dropped out right then and there from embarrassment.

There’s barely any feedback for Riddle, his little posse praising him like a king. People either saw no fault in him or were too frightened to actually comment on it publicly.

For me, that’s another case. Quite a bit of suggestions are offered, keep my form ready and my attention on more than one thing. Any and all advice is welcomed. Who knows how it can help me one day.

Amelia hugs my side with the biggest grin on her face, “You did so well! I think he actually had to work a little for that win.”

Everyone is dismissed and we head our way to Herbology. Tom’s face looks as if he’s already forgotten about the duel. His body language remains tranquil as ever.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Bubotuber pus, one of the grossest things I’ve had the misfortune of learning at home. Now I have to live through it again? How can one endure harvesting the essence?

“All of you are required to wear gloves for today’s class. Does anyone know what effects you would have when touching this substance with your bare skin?”

Quite a number of students raise their hands. I’m guessing they did research on why they needed to buy these gloves when handed the school procurement catalog.

Exactly what I did, curiosity might actually kill the cat.

“Yes, you sweet girl,” she picks, “What’s your name?”

“Merlene,” the student answers, “If you touch this without protection then extremely painful boils will appear in its stead.”

“Correct! 5 points to Hufflepuff,” she claps.

My fingers already lay inside the dragon-hide gloves. Its rough texture rubs against the calluses from dealing with the harsh stems of different plants.

This substance is usually processed to be used for acne treatments. Only touched in its weakened state. Oddly satisfying to some, I am not a part of that group of people

“This is disgusting,” I say as I harvest the pus. My gagging reflexes acting up every time the plant gets squeezed.

A few students chuckle at my remark. They seem to be having a good time, weirdly focused on this substance. It smells of petrol, not a big fan of the scent. Reminds me of the sketchy gas stations my parents and I would take on family road trips.

Its thick goo is finally contained in bottles. Relief washes over me from finishing the collecting process. My gloves are removed and I do a quick spell to clean my area. Nothing really fell on it so it didn’t need scrubbing beforehand.

Amelia seems to just be finishing her plant. A lot of goo splashed all over her table. Luckily it doesn’t seem like any of that touched anyone’s face or uncovered arms.

“I’m just about done, can you help with cleaning please?” Amelia starts collecting all of her bottles into her arms. None of the glass vials touched in green gunk.

“Yeah, I got you, turn those in to the professor.” I immediately started helping her out. In that process, I also cleaned other’s messes too. Why not, there is still time to waste until we can all leave. Cleaning products smell better than whatever chemicals intoxicate the air.

“Pop quiz, shout out the answers. Why not use spells instead of treated bubotuber pus for treatments?”

Easy question, I whisper the answer in Amelia’s ear when she comes back from turning in the assignment so she can shout it.

“Using spells proves to be too risky, like the Eloise Midgen incident,” she answers.

Good, she remembers Eloise's event.

“Yeah, she cursed her nose off, poofed from existence,” a girl from Hufflepuff adds.

“Precisely, everyone has permission to leave now,” the professor exclaims, “don’t head out without cleaning or I’ll reduct points. Last time a student got boils all over their hand from an improperly cleaned station.”

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“It actually went decently. Nothing blew up, surprisingly.”

At lunch, we are all talking about our first three classes. Potions being our first topic.

“Thought as much, I saw your stupid grin. You looked like you just won the wizarding lottery,” I say with my mouth stuffed with food. Hoping they could understand me between my chews.

“Both of you, slow down. The food ain’t going anywhere damn,” Devyn laughs.

Amelia and I pause, we look at each other, then at Devyn, then back to us. After a silent halt in our actions, we continue to shove down a bunch of food.

“I noticed you kept gagging at the pus. You looked queasy, your face was so pale.”

I audibly shiver at the recollection of said class. My eyes were watering so bad there. That stuff would never stop coming.

“I’m eating, stop mentioning that nasty stuff,” Amelia starts shaking her head. If only I could see the thoughts forcefully being shaken out of her head.

“You should have seen her station. That stuff was everywhere. How bad is your aim, the opening to the bottle wasn’t that small?”

“It wasn’t even that!” she drops her fork, “I squeezed that bloody plant too hard and it squirted everywhere!”

“Poor choice of words,” Devyn snickers. All she gets is a shove from me.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, she’s clearly traumatized.”

Devyn shoves me back, “You’re clearly traumatized from the duel. The one you failed at, the one-”

“I’m aware of the duel you’re talking about,” I interrupt, “I bet you wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did.”

“Oh please, you’re just salty about losing.”

I roll my eyes and subconsciously scan the room for him. There he is, mysteriously talking to his group of buddies. After a little bit, he catches onto my staring. He briefly looked around him to see if I was looking at something else. Finally, he comes to the realization it was in fact him I was blessing with my attention.

During this, he was talking to his friend next to him. He stopped his conversation to completely give me his attention. The guy he was just talking to engaged in another conversation quickly.

The moment was interrupted with hands waving in front of my face, “You gonna eat that?”

“Nah I’m full, go ahead.”

Riddle continued on with his food. Never looking my way again.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“Hey, uh, Riddle you have a second?”

I stop him by tapping his shoulder a couple of times. His height already makes mountains seem molecular.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glances at the shoulder I just touched. Making it a scene to dust that part off, what an ass.

“No, I really don’t have a second,” he responds.

“Well that, really, sucks for you huh. Can you teach me techniques for dueling?”

“No,” he starts to turn away.

“Please, you will get one favor from me. Whatever you need.”

Tom turns back around, “Anything? Does that favor expire?”

I shake my head no. If he plans to wait a long time he’ll probably forget about it. He seems to be deep in thought for a bit. No rush really since we're on our break. If he agrees I could get ahead of so many competitors.

“Fine, every Friday afternoon starting tomorrow in the Room of Requirement.”

He immediately strides away while I stare back in shock. My brain didn’t expect him to actually accept. Getting this far wasn’t a very possible outcome.

Now I just have to find out where the Room of Requirement is located.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

[one-boring-person]

Heyy 😊👉🏼👈🏼 it’s me again... I know that I literally just requested one, and received, which you did a fantastic job on btw! I’m like in a Top Gun love state right now, and I wanna warn you like I will probably be like a repeat customer 😅 so if it is not too much to ask, whenever you feel like, could I have a maverickxreader where he admires reader from afar and Goose knows he likes her and messes with him and somehow Goose helps them get together 😘😘 I’m sorry if it’s too soon 🤞🏽❤️

Of course, I'm glad you liked the first one!!💛💛

Buy Her A Drink.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Masterlist

"...Earth to Maverick? You there?" A familiar voice calls over the loud music, a hand waving in front of my face to get me to tear my eyes away from the point I'm staring at, my gaze easily finding Goose as he passes me a beer, smirking knowingly at me as he leans back against the bar.

"Where else would I be?" I respond, taking a deep drink from the bottle, my eyes quickly flicking back to the object of my focus, a sigh inadvertently escaping me as I watch her.

"In (Y/n)-dreamland, I reckon." The RIO points out, laughing as my head snaps round to face him, "Oh come on, you're not exactly being discreet!"

Frowning, I look down as a blush starts to creep up my neck, the bottle returning to my lips as I deny him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Goose scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically at the look on my face, looking over in the direction I was staring in, still grinning.

"Oh yeah? So you haven't been making heart eyes at her for the last month, hmm?" He lifts an eyebrow, nudging me as he gestures in (Y/n)'s direction, "Last time I checked, you haven't been able to get enough of her since we first got here."

"Stop it." I warn him, setting my jaw as he makes a noise of amusement.

"What? I'm just pointing out the facts." He grins widely at me, "Remember when we first flew together and you let her take the finishing shot? First time that's ever happened. And the time when we were playing volley ball altogether, when you let her win everytime?"

"I never let her take the first shot, or let her win. She's just a really good flyer, and she won all the games fair and square!" I protest, waving off his points as a blush continues to cover my cheeks, taking a sip of the beer to disguise it.

"Keep telling yourself that, Mav. I'm not the only one who remembers you getting all flustered that time when it was so hot her uniform was sticking to her skin. You couldn't keep your eyes off her." Goose remarks, leaning back against the bar with a conspiratorial smirk.

By now, my cheeks are probably bright red, my jaw clenched painfully as I recall that time, my eyes now finding the skilled pilot across the room from me, eyeing her as she jokes around with Iceman and Slider, the three of them having grown particularly close over our time at Top Gun. At the sight of them, I feel my teeth grind together, though I force myself to relax as I admire her appearance instead, subtly observing how her uniform hugs the curves of her body, and how her hair is neatly styled despite her more relaxed demeanor, the bottle in her hand appearing half empty from where I am. Her smile seems to light up the room as the three of them burst into laughter, her hand reaching out to rest against Iceman's arm in what is probably a purely platonic manner,

"Just buy her a drink or something, man. I'm sure she likes you back." My RIO encourages me, looking me in the eye as he says this, completely serious despite the grin still on his face.

"She looks happy enough with Ice and Slider." I grumble in response, finishing the rest of my beer in one long drag, turning and slamming the bottle on the bartop, trying to fight the urge to keep watching her, knowing I'm probably coming across as creepy.

"Oh come on, don't be like that, Mav! I think she'd much prefer your company. She does keep looking over, after all." Goose consoles me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders reassuringly as I look over at him.

"She doesn't." I murmur quietly.

"And how would you know?" He smirks again, knowing that I've been watching her nearly the entire night, "I tell you what, I'll help you out. Cath you later, man."

Before I can protest, he's gone, giving me one last part on the back as he goes, a few bills left on the counter for me to use, an unspoken rule we've always had: if trying to persuade the other to get a girl, we always pay for each other's first drinks. It helped get Carole and Goose together, but unfortunately it hasn't yet helped me. Growling to myself, I snatch up the notes and stuff them in my pocket, straightening and turning, banging into someone immediately, my hands instantly coming out to steady them as they yelp and stumble backwards, their drink spilling over our shirts.

My eyes widen as they find the person in my arms to be (Y/n), her own eyes locking with mine briefly, before she looks away, chuckling awkwardly, a blush dusting her cheeks, her own hands wiping at her front.

"Err, hey? Goose said you wanted to talk to me?" She questions me, looking up at me imploringly, features softer in the dim light, giving her a different appearance to the experienced pilot I know on the runway.

"Did he now?" I respond, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, "I'm really sorry about your drink. Want another? It's on me."

A grin spreads across her face at my offer, the pilot nodding softly at me as she moves to sit on a barstool beside me, uncaring of her now-damp uniform, telling me her order. Requesting it from the bartender, I scan the room for Goose, quickly locating him next to Sundown, shooting him a scowl as he lifts his bottle in salute, grinning at me.

"So what was it you wanted to say to me?" (Y/n) inquires as she receives her drink, eyeing me carefully as I adjust myself unsure of what to say.

"I think Goose made that up so you would come talk to me, actually." I admit, looking down at the bottle in my hand, embarrassment rendering me incapable of keeping eye contact with her.

"Oh." She giggles, the sound storing itself in my memory as she takes a drink, her smile wide and cheerful, not weirded out at all, "Well, at least he succeeded."

"True." I murmur, finally mustering the courage to lock eyes with her again, drowning in their warm depths.

For a few minutes, we sit there in silence, during which I start to doubt myself, my self esteem lowering even further as I struggle to come up with a topic of conversation, my head suddenly going blank for the first time in my life. Beside me, (Y/n) quietly drinks from the glass in front of her, clearly having the same problem as I am, fingers tracing idle patterns on the smooth counter. Looking over at her, I finally decide that I've had enough of this, turning to face her properly, drawing her attention to me almost immediately, confusion etched into her face.

"Goose got you to come over here because he wants me to admit to you that I like you, because he thinks that you like me back, which is ridiculous because I'm not your type at all, and I'm probably not what you're looking for, and I'm too nervous to make a move anyway, so he got you over here when he knows I've had a bottle or two of beer to loosen my tongue, so that I will finally confess to yo-" I gush out, rambling on as I try to organise my thoughts into one steady stream.

"Wait, you like me?" She suddenly cuts me off, having gauged something from the tirade of words.

I freeze in place before replying, unsure if how she'll react.

"...Yeah, I really do. I think you're amazing, the way you fly is incredible and you're a really nice person in general. You're sweet and funny, and I don't think I've ever come across someone who actually tolerates my flying style like you do, so yeah, I like you."

She is quiet for a minute or so, the suspense killing me as I prepare to make my excuses, ready to up and leave in case this now gets awkward. When she does speak, I try to expect the worst, knowing I'll be rejected.

"I mean I wish you'd told me sooner. At least the I could've spent less time fretting over whether you liked me back or not." She finally comments, remarks offhanded and surprising, my mind having to replay the words a few times before I actually understand what she means.

"You like me, too?!" I nearly exclaim in disbelief, happiness exploding inside me as she nods, reaching a hand over the table to lace our fingers together, a soft smile gracing our lips as we look at each other.

"I do, but you're gonna have to take me on a date before we make this official." (Y/n) chuckles, making eye contact with me.

"Well, in that case," I take her hand and press her knuckles to my lips, kissing the soft skin with a smirk, "Wanna go on a date with me?"

[o-wise-corvid]

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

[mikkaeus]

lessons from 1000 hours of tutoring high school kids - a letter to my past self

not all those hours were maths, but this is about maths

Not in order of importance; in the order they came to my head. 

1. Do not trust a kid when they say that they understand something. They understand jack shit. Make them explain it back to you. 

2. When teaching sth new try to prod them to reaching the conclusion themselves instead of just straight up explaining it, if time permits. 

3. Things I have assumed and have been sorely mistaken:

a) If an area is identified to be an issue in the lesson, the kid will go and do some questions and revise themselves to fix it.

b) Kids take notes. (I’m still kicking myself for only realising this more than 6 months in with this kid. I get paid too much to be making stupid mistakes like this.)

c) Kids know how to take notes. (Session 1: Take notes, here is a detailed outline that you can then expand on with examples and stuff. Session 2: The kid has copied my scaffold word for word and not expanded anything on it. Me: You need to actually EXPLAIN how to complete the square for example, not just write “completing the square”. Kid: Okay yeah I get it. Session 3: For each topic he’s googled an explanation and copied entire paragraphs word for word, because he “thought they’d phrase it better than him”. He’s using terminology that I 100% guarantee he does not understand at all. I now understand why high school teachers always said use your own words when making notes - something that I had always thought should be blindingly obvious to everyone.)

4. Not everyone is as obsessed with not making mistakes or not being able to solve problems are you are. (For these kids, being stumped at a difficult question isn’t the end of the world.) They think a question ends at figuring out the answer, whether that be from the help of a textbook, the solutions, their friend, or me. You need to impress upon them that it doesn’t matter what the answer is! It’s about what you learn from the question. How was the way they were thinking about the question incorrect? How can they avoid this in the future? What general advice can they give themselves? And then they need to actually commit to reducing incidences of the same mistake in the future. Some kids I’ve been giving the same damn advice to every problem they get stuck on, and magically they can solve it after I give them the advice. Just remember the general advice!! You’re spending all this time studying but you’re running into the same wall over and over again instead of remembering to take the rope out of your bag. I’m not magic! I’m just sitting here reminding you that there IS a rope in your bag!!  (Not that my method of angry scribbling in red pen across my working and writing that I’m a fucking idiot is something I’d actually recommend, but they could definitely afford to be less laissez-faire about learning from their mistakes.)

5. Actually make good notes during the session; otherwise, the kids probably retain nothing. It is kinda awkward to be sitting there writing away but it is a necessarily evil. Also, you can write while they’re chipping away at a question themselves, and that way you don’t need to be watching them like a hawk while they do algebra painfully slowly. (I feel like kids make more mistakes in sessions than they do normally.) 

6. The key to being able to solve a problem is believing that you CAN solve the problem. I’ve been saying this a lot recently - if you follow the rules for maths, there’s no reason it should be wrong - when I have Year 11s and 12s asking me every step of simple algebra if something is correct, or asking whether you’re allowed to do something, and I ask them, “what do you think?” and they reply, “I don’t know.” (Related: Another thing I’ve been saying a lot is that algebra is about doing the same thing to both sides. They just think it’s magic!) Anyway, I brought this up because of problem solving questions actually, not basic algebra. Of course, you can teach them how to break down the question, or general processes like “if you don’t have enough information, go back and check you’ve used everything in the question”, but all that’s useless if they don’t believe that they can solve it by themselves. That means

a) You need to actually encourage them. Even though you’re not a... fluffy or particularly inspiring person, just try. 

b) YOU need to believe that they can do it too. Think of the number of times you’ve been shocked that some kid managed to make a leap of logic you thought was beyond them. Kids are better than you think (and also worse than you think, but we’ve already talked at length about that). 

7. It’s most of the time more beneficial to force the kid to go through the expanded version of the working instead of the abbreviated version. They’re not you, trying to economise as much as possible on working to save precious seconds for rechecking at the end. Don’t push that obsession onto them when their goals and skill level is completely different. Especially if they’re:

a) making silly mistakes

b) not understanding why something works and just following the pattern for a specific context, and then being completely lost in another context. (eg. not being able to use the null factor law for when the factors weren’t linear with a gradient of 1, because they always skipped straight to x= instead of actually writing out each factor equalling zero, and then rearranging). 

8. Stop lecturing for too long. Make sure you’re writing stuff down, not only for the purpose of notes for them to look at later, but because not everyone’s good with auditory learning (you’re one of those people! and yet you subject others to the same shit you rant about out length about your professors!). Make them do work through a problem or part of a problem or ask them questions or something. 

9. A lot of kids do not know how to study properly. A few important things:

a) Do not automatically look back at past questions when solving a Q. You need to treat every question as completely new, and only look back if you’re stuck. That way you force active recall every question and thus making sure you’re actually remembering what the process is. You don’t get any worked examples in your exam. 

b) I do not know how this is every single fucking kid but knowing how to use your dang calculator saves lives!! It’s literally 50% of your grade and you’re sitting there two days before your exam struggling to graph a parabola??? After all the hours you poured into studying the content? Yes your calculators are gross and unfriendly but they’re your best friend. Not only should you know how to use them, you should be fast at using them, and you should know everything it can do that could be remotely helpful. 

c) Sit full exam papers under exam conditions. That shit is like gold and kids are piddling it away by just leisurely working through one question at a time with the help of their textbook (and me). 

d) Print out the formula sheet, and use it. Know what’s on there and what’s not. 

I don’t know if this is a pretty standard experience for people with a track record of excellent academic results* (by this I mean just assuming some things are obvious to everyone) or if I’m particularly bad because I’ve always only interacted with a very narrow range of people. anyway feels fucking bad for my kids but. im trying. god knows ive come a long way since i first started.

*or as I prefer to state it, a track record of being a huge fucking nerd