#and clearly shows ive been there for quite a few years

[ivoryrebellionmess]

Spooky remorses IV

Part I Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You dated Jax for a year and a half, it was great. You fought sure, but that's a given if you´re both stubborn (and he's constantly in danger). Gemma didn't like the relationship, and she made sure that it ended. Now, months after the breakup, your friend takes you to a Halloween party that just happens to be SAMCRO´s.

warnings: 18+, mdni

A/N: I hope you like it, I´m so thankfull for every interaction with my posts. I love you guys so much <3

tw: foul language, kinda hooking up with your ex, jealous jax, smoking,a little bit of spice, alcohol, gemma being mean af

Word count: 5k

Staying alone in Jax´s room would only bring overthinking and second-guessing your presence there, so you decided to go search for a friendly face to distract you from every mistake you´d made in the last three hours.

The party was decaying fast, a few members still around drinking and chatting. You spotted Chibs sitting at the bar, and smiled to yourself, knowing he'd give you shit for…well, everything. 

Chibs looked up from his beer when you sat down next to him, brows raising in curiosity and mischief. But he said nothing, waiting for you to set the tone of the conversation.

So, with a defeated sigh, you did exactly that, ¨Go ahead, lay it on me¨. 

The scot laughed, but did not miss his chance. ¨Ya two were putting on quite the show out there, I thought you were gonna rip each other's clothes off on the spot¨.

You just laughed, what else was there to do?. ¨That bad huh?¨

The scot had a look in his eyes that could only be matched by a kid on Christmas morning, he had clearly missed having you around to give you a hard time. And he clearly had some more to add, ¨Oh, it was damn near pornographic. The way-¨

¨Oookay okay, i know i was there, remember?¨, he seemed pleased with himself watching your face redden under the dim lighting of the clubhouse. 

He turned a bit more serious, even if still wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. He hesitated before speaking again.

¨Seriously, though? I thought I was watching one of those cheesy movies you like. Next thing I know you´ll be confessin´your true love on a beach at night¨

You scoffed a laugh, but answered nothing. This was his way of telling you there was more than sexual tension there, and that he did not think it was a bad idea to pursue whatever else was brewing between you tonight. But of course Chibs liked you together, they all did, because you leveled Jax. When you dated he got into fewer fights, he didn't make reckless decisions, and he was in a better mood, which everyone thanked. The other side wasn't so pretty, knowing you'd always come second to his brothers, worrying about him whenever he was on a run, patching him up after, learning how to shoot and defend yourself `just in case`,...

Did you love him? Of course you did, that was the only reason you put up with it, until it became too much. You couldn't let yourself get dragged back into all of it. 

Jax was the kind of guy everyone wants to date: charming, hot, loving, all that mixed with the rush of the danger that came along with being a part of the club. Everyone doesn't know what it feels like, alone in your bed at 3 am, wondering if the cops got them, or the deal went wrong and they´re in a fight, or if he's dead on the side of the road. 

Chibs could almost hear your brain whirring and clicking, so he mentioned someone he knew you wouldn't resist talking about. ¨Gemma was about ready to explode¨.

You tried, and failed, not to laugh, ¨She burst in the room while I was cleaning Jax up¨.

Chibs matched your vibe instantly. No matter how much he loved Gemma, she'd been awful to you since day one, playing a main role in your breakup. So yeah, he´d relish a bit in her misery.

¨Wish I could've seen her face¨, he laughed, ¨What'd she say?¨.

You straightened your back, imitating her body language, ¨I'm his mother and I know what's best for him¨. A quick laugh flew from your throat before speaking again, in your own voice this time. ¨ You know, the usual¨.

A silly smile, a gentle one, invaded your face. Chibs just gave you your own time to say whatever caused it. And you did, in a lower voice, as if saying it aloud would make it not be real.

¨He actually stood up to her, he defended me¨, biting your lip, as much as you tried, did nothing to hide the stupid grin plastered on your face. And for the bare fucking minimum that is.

A look of respect crossed his face, eyebrows rising in surprise. Before saying anything else, he took a sip of his beer, letting the revelation sink in.

¨Did he now? That takes some serious balls¨. You nodded, looking down at your hands with that stupid lovesick look still on your face. 

Only then you realized, you´d been patching him up, he was beat and he´d need meds. ¨Hey you got some painkillers? big guns, he's messed up¨.

His stare got serious for a second, going over what he had. After a few seconds he dug in the inside pocket of his kutte and handed you a plastic bag with around ten pills inside. As he opened his mouth to give you the indications, you got up, interrupting him. 

¨Bed rest, no alcohol, what else doc?¨. You felt like a student again, eagerly answering questions about what should be done with patients. 

A smirk played on his lips, wanting to get back at you for cutting him off. ¨I wouldn't encourage any `physical activities´ tonight, let the boy rest¨. Once again, the familiarity of being in a situation you´d been in a dozen times before stirred something inside you.

It was comforting in a way, it felt like home. 

And, as so many times in the past, you promised it wouldn't happen. The difference was that you meant it. Chibs´s knowing look followed you, he sensed the tension that still lingered between the two of you. He also knew you were more than capable of handling Jax, which meant he could go to bed and not give a fuck. At least for tonight.

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and looked around for something to eat. You were tired and not in the mood for cooking, or a full meal, but Jax needed to eat something. He'd try to resist, he was awfully stubborn and he hated depending on people.

It was ironic really, he got himself into needing to be looked after. There was chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer, so after grabbing two spoons, you made your way back to Jax´s room. 

Chibs was no longer by the bar when you passed it, so you breathed deep and continued on your way. The shower was still running as you set the ice cream and water on the bedside table. It had been a long time, Jax was most likely standing there, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles. Instead of disturbing him, you decided to lay on the bed. So you took off your shoes and closed your eyes, letting the humming of the shower relax you. 

After a good ten minutes the water stopped flowing, and shuffling sounds made their way to your ears.

Jax came out of the bathroom and stood on the doorway, honest surprise in his face at the sight in front of him. It had been a long time since you´d laid on his bed, especially so relaxed. 

Betting that he´d only be wearing a towel, you did not dare open your eyes, knowing the sight could be enough to send you into an early grave. His toned body wet, water dripping from his hair and beard onto his chest, down his abs, the towel low on his hips, a very visible happy trail,...

¨So you didn't fall down and drown¨, you simply stated.

Jax´s chuckle turned into a wince rather quickly, you furrowed your brows. You did not get a chance to ask how he was feeling when he retorted jokingly, ¨Managed to stay upright, darlin´, thanks for your concern¨

You felt it when he sat by your feet at the end of the bed, you also heard him groan. Finally opening your eyes, you offered some help. ¨Need a hand? Getting dressed?¨. The forming bruises on his back looked weirdly good, complimenting his tattoo.

Your question was met with silence as he glanced down at his body, probably trying to figure out a way to do it on his own.

There wasn't one, he was battered.

Jax chuckled wryly, admitting defeat. ¨My arms are sore and my ribs are killing me¨.

Of course he wouldn't admit to needing help, god he was like a kid sometimes. So you stood up and walked to his closet, hoping a little joke would make him feel better .

¨What are you feeling? casual chic? eleganza extravaganza? cocktail attire?¨. His dry laugh once again led to a wince, but his humour didn't falter, ¨I ain't´exactly feelin´up to a fashion show at the moment¨.

You shrugged, ¨As you like¨, grabbing grey sweatpants and a white shirt, ¨You ready?¨. He looked up at you when you made your way back to him, nodding slowly.

He took a deep breath as he sat straighter, ¨Ready as I´m gonna be¨. When he looked up at you, the vulnerability in his eyes got to your heart. You would've done anything to make him feel better, that had always been the issue. 

So you smiled at him, you couldn't help yourself. The cold nurse was long gone, you now were the girl that had fallen hard for him. ¨You´ve been worse, right? This is a walk in the park¨. Jax chuckled through the pain.

¨Been worse, I´ll give you that. A walk in the park might be an exaggeration¨, you caressed his shoulder as he kept talking, ¨I´m trying my best not to pass out and you´re here all smiles like you don't have a care in the world¨. 

¨You are what I care about right now¨. And before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pecking the side of his mouth. Sure, it wasn't a proper kiss, but still, what the fuck were you doing?.

Jax was clearly caught off guard, and when you stepped back a smile was tugging at the corner you´d just pecked.

¨You can't just go around doin´that¨, his voice was a bit hoarse, ¨I aint supposed to get excited right now, darlin´¨

The fact that he was joking was a good sign, but had nothing to do with the smile lingering on your face. ¨Okay, whatever, you know it wasn't like that¨, you laughed, handing him the sweatpants.

You kept on bossing him around as you made your way back to his closet, ¨Put those on and I´ll help you with the shirt¨, you looked over your shoulder at the bruise on his ribs and muttered under your breath, ¨That´ll be trickier¨.

You paid more attention to his groans than the clothes you were picking to change into, and decided he was fine. As fine as he could, given the circumstances. 

Jax finally managed to get the sweatpants over his hips, not missing a chance to rile you up when he noticed what you were doing. ¨You´re not stealing my clothes when I am on the verge of death, are you?¨.

The amusement in his voice made you smile, ¨Well I'm not sleeping like this¨, you vaguely gestured to your dress.

He loved the idea of you sleeping next to him, wearing his clothes. ¨You could always sleep naked¨. He spoke low enough that you had to make an effort to hear him, turning around to see his grin. And that may have been a bad move, a flash of the past crossing your mind…Jax, giving you that same grin, from between your thighs. 

Somehow you managed to answer casually, not letting your true feelings show, ¨You´re not supposed to get excited, remember?¨

¨´course I remember, it doesn't mean i can appreciate the view¨. Something more important than the banter between you came up, a pair of leggings. Not any pair, your favourite ones. The ones you haven't been able to find since the breakup. ¨They were here all this time?¨

Jax chuckled, knowing how much you loved them. ¨Found ´em a few months ago¨, the ghost of a smile danced on his face, ¨Looks like they found their way back to you¨

You bit your lip, pleased with your finding, and pulled out a zip-up hoodie, ¨I think this will be easier to put on¨

You walked up to him, ¨Okay let's go¨, and put his right arm through the sleeve. He didn't complain, so you did the other one. ¨Want me to zip it up?¨.

Jax just nodded, breathing through the pain in his ribs. 

When you were done, you opened his side of the bed, ¨Get in, I´ll be right back¨

You watched as he slowly laid down, playfully pouting at you. ¨You really gonna leave me all alone?¨

You hummed, ¨Yeah, give you some time to think about what you did¨. You heard his chuckle as you went in the bathroom and closed the door.

You changed into your leggings and the shirt you´d originally gotten for him and looked in the mirror. You honestly looked way better than you expected, so you washed your face and took the fangs off. 

Jax looked up when he heard the doorknob twisted, and he had to stop himself from smiling when he saw you. His heart ached to have you back in his life. He nodded at the space next to him and you made your way over, grabbing the ice cream on the way. He didn't need to hear it to know you wanted him to eat something, even if he did not feel like it, so he took that to his advantage. He grabbed the ice cream and patted the bed next to him. ¨I´ll eat if you lay down with me¨

You both knew you couldn't say no to him, so why even try? You sat next to him, handing Jax one of the spoons and burying your own on the ice cream tub. He kissed your temple, ¨Thanks for taking care of me, I know I can be stubborn¨.

Finally you accepted it , you were in too deep, and you didn't care. Maybe tomorrow morning you would, you'd regret everything. ¨You really are insufferable, baby¨.

Both of your hearts jumped at the pet name, yet decided to play it nonchalant, focusing on the ice cream. 

¨I aint that bad, just a little stubborn is all¨. His playful look was met with your incredulous one, ¨A bit-?¨.

He laughed, knowing he was an absolute ass at times, ¨Dont lie, you love it¨.

Shaking your head at his smugness, you handed him two pills.  ¨Please, knock yourself out¨.

A little while after taking them, Jax felt the pain starting to dull and his head getting drowsy. Still, he tried to stay awake, to enjoy five more minutes of your company. Even if that was just laying next to you while you ate the whole ice cream. 

¨You really think I´m that bad, huh?¨. He mumbled, a smile on his face.

You placed the empty container on the bedside table and laid on your side, looking at him. ¨Not at all¨, your voice was barely above a whisper.  

Jax´s eyelids were heavy, the meds really starting to work, you could tell he was making an effort to keep his eyes from closing. 

¨I'd hate to have you think I am an insufferable ass¨.

You´d already fucked up by ending in his bed, so what was another tiny mistake? You leaned in and softly kissed him, whispering against his lips. ¨Well yeah, but you´re my insufferable ass¨.

His heart skipped a beat, he gently kissed you, one of his hands softly grazing your hip. ¨Damn you¨. What he wanted to damn, more than you, was the effect you still had on him.

You bumped your nose against his, teasing him. ¨Nice thing to say after I took care of you¨.

He snorted, now laying on his back. ¨You know what I mean¨, he gave you a lazy smile, ¨Not fair, kissin´me when I'm high and can't do nothin´about it¨.

He looked relaxed from the side, you could tell he was almost asleep, ¨You got bigger things to worry about¨.

The ever-present smirk on his face did not falter, ¨Do I now, like what?¨.

God, how he managed to still be so cocky you would never understand. You were a close second though, only giving him a pointed look for an answer. And he knew what you meant, of course he did, but how could he not tease you a little?

He put the best innocent facade he could muster before side eyeing you, ¨You´re gonna have to be a little more specific, darlin´¨ .

You just laughed under your breath, ¨What a fucking ass¨.

He was a sucker for you, living for moments like these, living for you. ¨Aren't you supposed to be nursing me back to health?¨, you were scooting closer before you knew it, ¨And here I thought you were doing it because you care about me or somethin´¨.

¨Oh my god how long do these meds take to work¨, you playfully teased, ¨there are no laws against insulting you while I heal you, baby¨.

¨You´re a real piece of work, y´know that?¨, he was slurring, the pills finally getting to him. 

You just shushed him, caressing his face, ¨Sleep now¨.

Jax could barely fight it, but he found the strength to ask you one last thing. ¨You´re not gonna disappear on me while I sleep, are you?¨.

You didn't let yourself think about it for too long before reassuring him that you'd stay. He finally fell into a deep, medicated sleep. When the stress was finally gone, you realized how tired you actually felt. It did not take long for you to close your eyes and drift off next to him.

About six hours later, a pair of blue eyes slowly opened under furrowed brows. The first thing Jax had felt when consciousness returned to him had been pain. It wouldve been very romantic that you were the first thing on his mind, sure, but that´s just not how life works sometimes. 

The ribs on his left side, his fists, the back of his head, it was as if every single part of him was hurting.

Your stirring finally reminded him of…well, everything that had happened. Its not that he didnt remember what had happened, but considering he hit his head Jax just assumed it had been a dream. 

It hadnt though.

You looked peaceful, the ghost of a smile gracing your lips. You´d looked beautiful last night, but this was better. No worry lines on your face, no furrowed brows, just a smile. 

Cute as this moment was, his body had other plans. Jax slowly sat up, trying not to wake you. It was hard, even through his gritted theet, he could not help but groan. 

You rubbed your eyes, barely able to get words out of yourself. ¨Hey, hey, hey dont move¨.

All his feelings of gratitude and desire to prove he was a better man were quickly overrun by annoyance at his own aching body, ¨I know¨, his back was facing you. 

¨But I gotta piss¨. His voice was rough and a little aggressive, you just sighed and laid back on the bed.

The blond may not have evolved, but you sure had. You matched his passive aggression and just stayed there, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. Some time ago, you´d have force fed him painkillers and treated him carefully, but that wasnt you anymore. Not the sober you anyways.

So, after a couple tries, he had no choice but to ask for your assistance. ¨Help me up?¨. A few second of deafening silence. ¨Please¨

Your lips stil sealed and half asleep, you went to his side and let him use you as a crouch. Jax heavily leaned on you, trying hard to keep silent. Determined to pretend he was fine. 

There was a flaw on his plan, he needed your help to make it to the bathroom.

Based on experience this was just his body warming up, after a little movement he´d be all right on his own. Almost.

¨Feels like a truck run me over¨, he tried to joke. His shitty morning attitude had bothered you so you kept quiet. 

That was until you were halfway to the bathroom and all of his weight was on you, risking his mood worsening, you asked. ¨Want me to get one of the boys?¨

That struck a nerve, someone seeing him weak? No way. He tensed up and stopped walking. 

¨I can do it myself¨, you could barely hear him through his gritted teeth. 

Fearing your reaction if you pushed it, you scoffed and urged him to keep moving. He played it tough, stubborn as he was. Anyone couldve been able to tell that he was in a lot of pain.

Jax looked at your face for the first time when he leaned on the doorframe, his voice was soft when he spoke, even if his words were not. ¨I can take it from here¨.

Raising your hands in surrender, you took a step back. Your voice was cold when you said he had more pills on the bedside table.

You left, mad at him, mad at you. Mad. Just plain mad. 

The biker grunted, closing the door and leaning on the sink, knowing had pissed you off. He did look like shit, pale skin and tired eyes. Jax cursed under his breath, he couldnt bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this, not even you. 

Especially not you.

That´s something you´d never been truly quite grasped. It wasnt so much a macho thing, not with you. When it came to you, it wasnt about bravado. It was about making someone he loved suffer, the hurt in your eyes when they went over his bruises, … A hurt he did not know how to comfort. 

You made your way to the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. If the beginning of the morning had been bad, what would come after was way worse. Gemma was sitting down having a coffee, and you couldn´t stop the groan that crossed your lips.

Gemma smiled slyly, the battle you´d won the prior night fresh in her mind. Fake sweetness laces her voice as you made your way to the coffee maker, ¨Well, well, look who it is¨.

¨Yeah, yeah¨. You didnt even bother wasting energy on her, knowing you´d need it with her hot headed son. 

She sipped her coffee as you put sugar on your own. Her sharp eyes studied your every move, looking for the perfect way to get under your skin, to gather the information she needed. 

If you hadnt known her, you´d have thought the concern in her voice was sincere. 

¨You look tired, sweetheart¨.

Again, no fight in you, everything about you was neutral, even your tone. ¨He just woke up¨, you dryly added.

She wanted to know what had happened, where your relationship stood. You wanted to erase the past night from your brain. 

Gemma´s eyes gleamed as she sensed the tension coming off of you. There was no doubt as far as whose fault that was.

¨And how is he?¨. You sat up on the counter, leaning your head back against the cabinets. ¨You know how he is¨.

 She just smirked, sipping from her mug. ¨Stubborn as a damn mule¨.

Silently, you nodded. Eyes closed, head thrown back, you almost felt calm. Almost. The matriarch studied you quietly. If your eyes had been open you would have seen something close to pride on them. Gemma herself had never been able to pinpoint what exactly she disliked about you. Because it was not you . Your personality, she liked, you were fiery. You could handle her son and you perfectly managed with the rest of the men of the club. Had she been honest with herself, you were too good for this life, it dimmed your light. She had seen you around town with your friends, you looked happier when you didnt have a criminal to worry about constantly.

She rested her forearms on the table, cocking her head as she spoke. ¨Can I ask you something?¨.

There was no spite in her words, and her face seemed softer than you could remember ever seeing it.

For a second you played with the idea of her liking you, being there for you when Jax was being an immature jerk or putting himself in danger. You quickly dismissed it, it wouldnt do you any good to dwell on that. 

You sounded almost playful when you answered, ¨I have a feeling youre gonna ask anyways¨.

She chuckled, you both knew each other all too well to be playing this game. ¨Why are you back?¨.

Once again, no bite behind her question, just plain curiosity. You straightened your position on the counter so you could have a proper conversation. ¨Whats your point?¨. No bite didnt mean you were friends of course, you were still weary.

¨Jax´s better off without you¨, she did not seem as sure of this statement as a few seconds before. Your brows furrowed, defending her son was a pivotal point of Gemma. ¨You two arent good for each other…¨.

It felt like she was holding something back, yet you couldnt figure out what it could possibly be. Gemma´s voice was soft when she finished her sentence, ¨…he makes you into something you´re not¨.

She quickly went back to her usual demeanour, leaning back on her chair, ¨You know it and so do I¨.

It somehow felt like you were walking into something, but not a trap, not exactly. You moved from your spot on the counter to a chair in front of Gemma, and took a sip of coffee before giving into whatever was happening. 

¨What´s that supposed to mean? He makes me into something I´m not?¨. You knew, you agreed, and your eyes reflected it.

But this could not be played as a bonding moment between the two of you, neither of you were ready to navigate that type of relationship. 

¨My boy turns you into a mess, all upset and emotional¨, she eyed your face up and down, ¨exhausted¨. 

Well, yeah, you were stressing over Jax, you´d done that for the whole time you´d dated. What else were you supposed to do when your boyfriend was VP of a literal gang? You worry, that's what you do.

On the other hand, she was right and you couldnt deny it. He turned you into an unstable version of yourself, a not-so-cheery you, … No one could deny that after the initial shock when the breakup happened, you´d had a glow up. It wasnt something physicall, it was all of you. You were relaxed, you were happier. Even if you missed Jax and the bad days felt like absolute shit. If you were honest with youself, that was normal after losing someone important in your life, not a sign that you truly wanted to get back with him.

Gemma could see the turmoil of doubt in your eyes, and maye a little bit of her in you? Getting pregnant had played an important part on her staying with her first husband but what wouldve happened if she hadn´t? And what would happen to you if you stayed? She knew how the club corrupted everyone it touched, and you had managed to escape that once.  Would you be lucky enough to do it twice?

She got up and, before leaving, she added, ¨You already spend your days nursing people back to health¨. You didnt need to be doing it as an extracurricular activity too…

Alone in the kitchen, you finished your coffee, a million thoughts racing in your head. It got too much and you needed space from anything to do with the club. Rushing to the room, you mentally checked where you had left your clothes and purse the night before. 

The room was not empty, he was in the bed. It didnt take long to notice he was asleep. Thank god. 

The pills were nowhere to be seen, so he would not wake up. You hopped in the shower, the hot water numbing your thoughts. Alone in the bathroom, Gemma´s words resonated with you. You forcefully tried to stop that train of thought when your heart started to beat faster and faster. 

Somewhere deeep inside you, you wanted to push Jax away, to protect yourself. He still had a grip on your heart, but that only meant he could still hurt you. What had ahppened last night after all? What had happened this morning?

You dry yourself and put your leggings back on, the shirt still smells like Jax when it goes over your head. You pretend it doesn´t affect you. You grab a gym bag from Jax´s closet and put all of your things inside it.

The tought that leaving with so much of his stuff would probably mean at least another call does cross your mind. You quickly banish it as you put on your heels, not having another shoe option. 

Jax looks innocent when he´s sleeping, no tension on his face, you place a kiss on his cheek. A goodbye? You did not know. 

You chuckle when you look at your outfit on the mirror, the true definition of a walk of shame.

Breathing deeply, you look at him one last time, and walk out. On your way to look for a taxi, you come across Gemma.

No words are exanged, but your eyes are enough. For both of you. It was never about hatred. 

Anxiety swarms your mind as you exit the Sons´ property, would you ever be sure that this had been the right decision? 

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[miquellah]

You seem to me like a fan of vintage anime! What are some of your favorite films and/or shows from before the 2000's, and are there any in particular you'd like to recommend?

ACK! to be fair i'm still only just dipping my toes in so far, but with every intent to become more properly seasoned. i have indeed been having a blast tho with what i've been watching so far from this era!

number one favorite so far and recommendation, tho: Revolutionary Girl Utena

it's constantly lauded and IT IS FOR A REASON!! i do think it's best if you go in as blind as possible, but all in all it's a stellar production with themes on girlhood, and especially what it means to exist under the patriarchy. soulsborne followers who LOVE meta will also enjoy this, surely, because it's absolutely laden with symbolism and almost surrealist imagery. and yeah it's gay. 39 episodes, but it sure was a pleasant long haul

BE AWARE THOUGH. it does also cover some dark topics such as sexual abuse, incest, and pedophilia, etc-- albeit nothing terribly graphic and all handled quite impressively well. any sexual implications are also pretty vague and/or just symbolic. (despite this, it's also got a surprising amount of comedy and fun sides, so it's not an exceedingly heavy watch, either)

another i've seen is dirty pair! nothing too terribly serious here, but i do like it. campy, charlie's angels-esque case-of-the-week OVAs, following two silly 19-year-old "trouble consultants" in space. they're clearly dressed for eye candy, but at the same time nothing too fanservicey at all. fun little romp

birdy the mighty! personal favorite just because ive been madly in love with her for years. there was a later remake (which is how i got here) that had two seasons, but she originated here with the ovas. kind of underrated. sorta campy sci-fi plot about a space agent who accidentally kills a random guy on earth, so he has to share her body while his is getting repaired. i remember the dub sucking assss but maybe a fresh look is what i need now. or maybe just subs

a bunch of ghibli movies also fall into this era, but they probably don't need much introduction. some things like sailor moon, ranma 1/2 and yu yu hakusho also in the same boat. but i've got a few things on my radar otherwise that i plan to get to eventually, too, if these help:

gunsmith cats

magic knight rayearth

angel's egg

vampire hunter d

magnetic rose (!!!)

slayers

record of the lodoss war

shamanic princess

literally like. all of gundam

patlabor

oniisama e

rose of versailles

hell. why not golden boy

[we-are-maladaptive]

so there's a piece of writing ive been working on and I don't know if its good enough for a full series or not, so I'll put it here and let you guys decide on what you think!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Feel free to send me an ask and I’ll write it for you! Remeber to check the rules first.

⋆୨♡୧⋆Bakugo Katsuki x Reader⋆୨♡୧⋆

The most notorious circus and entertainment show in all of Japan. Known for their overly-wild and downright dangerous performances. What makes them so special, though, is that all of the members who perform.. are quirkless. Proving that even without a quirk, that they are talented individuals with power, a very inspiring motive I'd say.

A good amount of people, though, crave one thing at this circus. The main lady. She is the bravest of them all, pulling some of the most dangerous stunts out there, such fire and passion in her work.Katsuki shouldn't have come to this stupid show. I mean, what's so special about a little measly tricks here n' there? Near the end of the performance, he was a bit surprised by some of the dangerous stunts that went on, but still a little grumpy.

They were now in the large fairgrounds area, a few blocks away from the main attraction of the fair, "The Quirkless". The large tent was peeking above all the visible rides and attractions, it was a very large tent.

"I still don't fucking get why you felt the need to bring me here." His voice was gruff and harsh, and it's not hard to tell who it comes from.

Katsuki Bakugou was now in his mid 20s, and was clearly starting to tone down a bit from his hot-headed teen years. It was still there, though. It would be there for the rest of his life, but not as bad as it used to be.

"Dude, we just thought you could use a break. You're way higher in the rankings then us, so your work is totally more packed than ours. It wouldn't hurt if you took a breather." Eijiro was right, he DID work a lot compared to what he was used to these past few months. Crimes and accidents were at a pretty drastic high, but.. a circus? There were many things his friends knew he had an interest in, and the circus was certainly not one of them. In fact, he had never been to a circus before.

Rather enticing music made Katsuki snap out of whatever daze he was in, and he and his 2 friends quickly started to see the gold glowing letters at the top on the circus tent entrance. Plenty of yelling and shouting could be heard from the inside.

"Yeah man, don't worry though." Denki was the one talking this time.  "This circus is like.. the best in the country, no, the whole world! Especially the main lad-" He was cut off quickly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I don't really care, if it can take my mind off work for a few hours then I guess it'd be worth it... say. Is alcohol allowed here?" "I mean it's a young adults and adult only show, so I wouldn't be surprised if I saw booze in here." Denki proclaimed. "I even got my own!"

"Try not to wave it around, Denki. We just got here, do you wanna risk being kicked out?" At Least Eijiro was a bit smarter than Denki.  "Oh... right. Anyways, I'll need A LOT of booze when I see the main lady!" Katsuki's ears perked up a bit at that.

"Oh? Who the hell's that supposed to be?"

Ejiro spoke before Denki was able to get the words out of his mouth, who knows what he would say.

"The main lady is what a lot of people look forward to when coming here. She's the one who does alot of solo dangerous performances. Of course there are more, but, let's just say she's.. very passionate and.. attractive."  

Katsuki immediately felt his eyes roll, they were so hyped up over this show.. for a woman?

"That sounds stupid."

"It's really not! I think the motive of this show is very inspiring, I have been here before, it's so cool!" Eijiro nodded along at Denki's words. "Trust us."

Katsuki had no choice but to follow along. Not that he'd admit it, but a bunch of quirkless people putting together dangerous acts was a rather brave move. He was actually quite interested.

When they walked inside, Katsuki seemed rather surprised at how big the tent actually was. This was only the entryway before they got to the seating areas. Thousands of people were scattered around the large tent, with more to come since Eijiro begged to be at least a little bit early for good seating.

                                                         ...

The show was going to begin soon. By now, Katsuki and his friends had sat in their seats, and had gotten their selected beverages and food.

"God... when is the show gonna start?? This is really starting to piss me off-"  "LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! WELCOME TO OUR SHOW. WE ASK ALL AUDIENCE TO KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE AWAY FROM STAGE TO PREVENT ANY ACCIDENTS. NOW, WE PRESENT TO YOU, THE MOST NOTORIOUS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP OF THE COUNTRY.. THE QUIRKLESS!"

[esotericas-sims]

@thebramblewood tagged me to post my top 24 screenshots from 2024. I only started my blog in March of this year (INSANE btw... how far we've come...) so a few months are going to be getting more than 24. I'm sure many of you have already been tagged, but I'm tagging @crvptydgaming, @j3lly-fish, @grimwoods, and @inlovewithregencyera, I'd love to see your years in review as well!

Long post under the cut. Also it's definitely more than 24 but SHHHH it was hard to choose

March:

back in the days of vintage Spectre Legacy content... I've learned so much since then, but I still really love a few of my old shots. This one I was especially proud of. I felt really proud of the split down the middle, and i think the differing moodlets and the little split did a great job foreshadowing the eventual split in their relationship... i miss my babies :(

April:

this was the month that i discovered my deep and abiding love for landscape photography in the sims.

also something about this shaving shot just absolutely charmed me, george's facial expression plus the candlelight just... i dont know. i still love this one. no notes.

May:

baby lydie.. she was so itty bitty *sobs. i love her little face. not a ton to say about either of these except that i really miss the spectres. someday i will return to them.

June:

it was actually impossible to pick just one or two from this month.. i love loved taking pictures in selvadorada, its one of my personal favorite worlds scenery-wise, and i have sooo many still on my computer from florence's quest there.

July:

july was my first foray into the wonderful world of pose player (never went back) and i think you can see me realizing how many doors it opens for more artistic shots. the scene with julian at the piano is still one of my favorites ive ever made, and although i was really sad to have to pause the spectre family story, i was at least glad to get to end it on a post i was really proud of.

August:

book of manon... :,) another project that i realized was beyond my skillset only partway through making it. i think realistically i should write a book, and not do a sims story about her, but i really wanted to share her with you guys.. i'd like to pick this one back up someday.

September:

i didn't post a lot in september, but i still really love octavia and margarita's wedding, especially this shot. she looks so shocked like??? god forbid your wife kisses you at your wedding??!!?! it was also the beginning of the cash legacy, which is a project i've had so much fun with (and will hopefully continue to have fun with in the new year)

October:

had to do a double feature for october because this is when i started posting a LOT, like daily on both blogs. most of these are just examples of good framing that i liked. u can see my screenshots becoming more and more minimalist i think

the one of victor and rhythm is um. uh... ummm m m mm. *tucks hair behind ear

i just think he's neat

November:

bon riddle my beloved.... idk thats all ive got to say about these. i still find that photo of him in the lake so charming. and my sogue shoot is an honorable mention... i'm also quite pleased with the winterfest party scene, and especially this shot. the separation between angelina/aphrodite and allie/kareem hits me, and the evil little smile on angelina's face.. delicious

December:

the real star of december was absolutely the epilogue montage i did for chapter one of cash legacy. i had soso much fun planning out each shot and playing dress up. as all my friends can tell you, the prom photos were some of my particular favorites. i had a truly impossible time choosing which one to use, and i still have all the others (literally like six of them) saved on my computer.

also obviously the christmas card shoot was super fun, and i've been enjoying getting to show off adult valentine a bit more. he's so special to me.

anyways my skills have clearly grown a ton this year, as has my ability to like.. shoot with intention and artistic vision. i'm still working on my writing and pacing, and i'm sure in a year or so i'll look back on these images and go "gross" but for now, i'm really happy with how far i've come.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XXIX

Vessel's POV.

ao3

masterpost

It was just Vessel tonight for boxing. Ives strolled in about five minutes before, while Vessel was fussing with hand wraps to stabilize his wrists for punching. 

“Hey, Ives, do my wraps look okay?” 

“I'll look in a second, just need to put my bag down,” Vessel wanted to ask Ivy about a million questions about the date with III the other day. III had briefly texted him about it but he hadn't been able to get any details. He refrained. He thought that Ives was his friend, but they'd never talked much. He was more of a teacher than anything. 

“I can see the steam coming out of your ears. What are you thinking so hard about?” Ivy asked, hands readjusting Vessel's wraps. Man, I wish II were here. 

“Um. Just, form stuff. I think I need some help with my stance,” chicken shit. 

“Well, since it's just you, we can work on anything you like,” Vessel thought about it for a second. Conversation can come later. He actually was really enjoying these classes and he didn't want to let his worries get in the way. 

“Okay, well, I'm not sure about this,” and Vessel tried to settle into a stance, but he knew there was something weird about it. Ivy circled him, looking up and down at his entire form. 

“Can I touch you to reposition you?” 

“Oh, sure,” Ivy proceeded to tap Vessel's knee from the back so it popped out even with his toe, and tucked his elbows closer into his body. 

“How's that feel?” But before Vessel could answer, Ivy moved his leg again, repositioning him in a way that felt way more stable. 

“Better,” 

“Your legs weren't quite far enough apart, which would lead to you being easier to topple,” Vessel nodded in understanding. “So, do you think you'll go out with II again?” Was Ivy feigning disinterest? Vessel couldn't quite tell. 

“I'd like to. I think we've both just been a bit busy. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, because I went out with your guy, III, the other day,” 

“And how'd that go?” Where the fuck is he going with this? 

Ivy threw a punch. Vessel blocked. He threw a return punch. 

“It was good. But I don't know if we're going to go out again,” 

“No?” Fuck, that'll break III's heart. “You'll break his heart if you tell him that,” 

“Break his heart? We went on one date,” oh what is this? Vessel rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and he told me he wanted a, quote unquote, “very reasonable nine hundred and sixty seven more”. If you ask him out, he'll be at your door within an hour,” 

“Why isn't he here with you?”

“Oo, careful now. Sounds like you like him,” Vessel teased. Ivy flushed red to his roots. “Oh, you do like him, like, a lot, don't you?” Ivy mumbled and then threw a more vicious punch into Vessel's kidney. 

“Never leave your sides unguarded,” 

“Fine. He's not here because his marathon is in 2 weeks,” 

“Why does he do that to himself, run marathons?”

“If you ask him, he'll tell you,” Ives just nodded then, clearly sick of Vessel shoving him toward III. “Look, it's not my place to say why. It's sad. And if you guys are gonna go out, you should show interest in him anyway. Or he'll think you don't like him. None of this is my place, But I know III, and if you don't text him or call him or something, he'll think he did the date wrong and you don't like him,” 

“Okay,” was all Ivy said in return. Thay pissed Vessel off and he flung a punch into Ivy's kidney. The class carried on for a while, til both of them collapsed in a sweaty heap when Ives tackled him. He had gone pretty hard on Ivy, partly for III who had been a wreck for the two days he hadn't heard from Ivy. Partly because he hadn't heard from II in a few days and he was starting to worry that II had lost interest. 

“Does II like dinner?” oh that's a stupid question. 

“That's a stupid question. Who doesn't like dinner?” 

“I guess I mean fancy dinner,” 

“You let that man put on nice clothes and pick you up at eight, and you'll have a ring by the new year,” Ivy clearly meant it as a joke, but Vessel's mind ran away with it anyway. 

“I'm gonna text him right now,” Vessel walked toward his bag and his phone. But II was walking past the boxing room. So Vessel decided to just poke his head out the door and ask. 

“Vessel, hi!” II seemed happy to see him. Nerves got him for a second but he spit it out. 

“Would you want to do dinner next week?” 

“Oh, yeah, that'd be awesome. Did you have some place in mind?” 

“Yeah, but it's kind of fancy,” II lit up. Vessel nearly swooned. He was completely over the moon for II and his smile was worth more than any gold or gem. 

“I love fancy. Send me the details?” II winked and then continued on. Vessel watched as he walked away, until he was out of sight. He's so pretty. “Hey, III,” Vessel heard Ivy behind him and turned around, knowing damn well III wasn't here. Ivy had his phone jammed up against his face. Man of action, I guess. Ivy waved Vessel off, grinning and listening to III through the phone. “Bye,” Ivy mouthed at Vessel. Vessel took that to mean class dismissed and gathered his things. He sent II the restaurant and then called said restaurant to make a reservation for two. The hostess was cheerful and excited to help Vessel get a secluded booth. He scheduled it for Friday, so he could go on a run with III on Saturday. III was really winding up his training. Vessel texted III to make sure he was still running in the morning.

[dopaminerjic]

from what ive seen of book lestat so far, he does feel like a distinctly different character from the tv version. tv lestat can be quite immature, certainly, but he's still quite clearly a two hundred year old vampire masquerading as a thirty-something year old. every word that book lestat writes, on the other hand, reads like it came from a teenager, or almost-teenager. a twenty year old who has been around a few centuries but still never quite grew up. and i kinda love that to be honest?? my understanding is that the show aged up the main characters (louis, armand, lestat) quite a bit, which i think was very in keeping with the tone of the show, but its also quite a different vibe from much of what ive seen of the books. which i find very interesting

[screamingay]

started ranting about doctor who to my gf and realized i actually have a lot of opinions (which start off summarizing hbomberguy's takes from the sherlock video but it was kind of a revelation for me) so if u want to hear them ive copypasted and edited them a bit for u guys under the cut <3

so like to set up how bad steven moffat is he explains why doctor who was so bad when moffat was the showrunner in a way ive been trying to articulate for years

basically he's a decent writer who was good at individual episodes that make reference to the doctors history but when it came to actually writing that history and the big events that would become the doctor's history he sucks so so so badly

like in the empty child he was amazing, he prioritized the story of the episode while giving the doctor an air of mystery and references a long and complicated backstory without compromising any charm or humor

but in the very first episode where he had reins on the entire show and its storylines he resorted to just a monologue from the doctor about how cool and special he is and that trend continued the whole time he was in charge. the entire universe suddenly revolved around the doctor

like. chibnall was clearly trying to subvert that by only using brand new aliens during his first season and having extra companions (three of them jesus christ) but he didn't address the heart of the problem and somehow made it even worse. the charm of the doctor was always that they were just a traveler bouncing around the universe and helping people or having fun or whatever

and of course there was always the tragic backstory and the genocide and being the last of his kind and all that but that always came second to the humans he loved!! the first time the master came back in tennant's run it was martha and her family and jack that saved him!! and chibnall tried to do that with yaz but it just didnt feel as impactful bc of how overpowering the master & timeless child plots were (dont even get me started on the timeless child shit retconning the entire history of the show to make the doctor quite literally the most important being in the universe)

moffat on the other hand went all over the place with it and wrote in intergalactic cults deadset on killing the doctor and when he did try to make companions special and important he completely took away their agency in the process

to me clara was a decent companion and had some great moments for me until she turned out to be not real or a metaphor or forgotten or dead or somehow retconned into existing since the show started in 1963 it was all so WEIRD and misses the point of making a companion important. it made her so important she lost her humanity imo

and then there was bill who also died and was mutilated beyond recognition and it just makes me think about how rtd never did that to companions. they were special not because of time magic or destiny or fucked up deaths but because they were just humans. with families. martha got to go back to her family. donna had to forget but she was happy in the end. rose was supposed to live out her life in the parallel universe with her own mortal doctor, and she did, but moffat STILL found a way to bring her back as a metaphor because his desire to deconstruct female companions into concepts and tragedies was just too strong

that's not even getting into what he did to river. or amy...

none of this is to say rtd is perfect of course, i'm really nervous to see how he deals with everything that's been thrown at the show in the past couple decades but considering he plans on staying for a while i really hope he manages to put a better twist on all of it. honestly the thing im most curious about is the special effects.. the show has been leaving very heavily on cg lately but chibnall did introduce a few decent practical effects and puppets so i hope rtd pushes for more of that. im getting off topic tho

that's all i have for now i hope u enjoyed and if u wanna discuss anything pls feel free although that's all the brainpower i have for today come back tomorrow <3

[bike42]

Tuesday January 7, 2025

One of the things Dave really pressed in his discussion of Mission Guatemala was the intention we have as we do the work we’re doing this week. It struck me that its wasn’t just a lecture for us to do a good job, but more to consider the ripple effects of doing good work. Serving with an open mind and an open heart is important to serving well. Listening and learning is often more important than speaking and teaching in another culture. John Wesley described three simple rules for Christian life: Do no harm, Do good, Stay in Love with God.

We are blessed to be working with such remarkable guys this week. Clearly, they alone could knock this project out so much faster than them patiently trying to coach us to do the work, but working with us gives them a different purpose as well. It’s such an amazing experience.

Same morning routine, meditation, yoga and breakfast. We sat with Dave, Abby and Ty - such a remarkable mellow two-year-old! We visited so long we had to rush to get to the bus, where we ended up waiting for the other bus and then another 20 minutes for a delivery of bananas! We were on the road just before 9am.

On our drive to the worksite, we go through two small villages which gives us a glance into the everyday lives of the locals. Many of the women / girls are in the traditional dress. If they’re not, they’re most likely in tight jeans and a t-shirt / sweatshirt. We’d been told to be conservative in our attire: no spaghetti strap tops, short shorts or mid-drift tops. Basically, no skin showing, and that’s what we see - quite a difference than the way girls dress in the US these days!

We spent the day laying block, with breaks for hauling new block up to the second floor. Felt good to use more muscles! Just when I’d feel like I was getting the hang of the blocks, one of the guys would come by and point out something wrong. Frustrating, but it is good that they want it to be as close to perfect as possible.

We knocked off a bit early and arrived back by a little after 4p, with time to shower before a presentation by the clinic doctor.

Just before dinner, Dr Lydia came for a visit. She’s been the clinic doctor for 9 years now. She described the clinic space to us, and we’re hopeful we’ll be able to visit there and get a tour over the next few days. Their goal is to do whatever the patient needs the same day, which could encompass ultrasound, lab works, and medication administration (IV). A large part of her day is spent educating patients about their medical condition and contributing factors. Fees for the clinic vary, but in general it’s 10Q for the consultation, 5Q for lab tests, 40Q for ultrasound, 20-up for medications ($1 = 13Q). If someone can’t pay, they’re still treated, but most see the value and want to pay something. Jeff asked if they had a magic wand, what would they wish for? EKG machine

We had tacos for dinner, and we’re pretty exhausted again. A little backgammon and we’re going to crash!

[rabidcriterion]

okay so not as rabid as usualll but im doing a little writeup of a situation i am in because i am not quite sure what is. Goaing Oan

soooo like ages ago i was added to this discord server, it belonged to a friend i met at a convention and their group of friends was in there. it was a while ago, im not sure how long but at this point it would've been over a year ago. last year was. a shitfight because i was so busy with work, and since then I've inly become more busy, so I didn't really go in there very often. i do remember maybe joining an active voice chat a few times, but i dont think i was in there for very long each time, the longest i was in there was probably under thirty minutes? not sure, this was a while ago

anyway, i think at some point i left the server (it was a minecraft server by name, and i don't play that much anymore). i have no idea if i personally made the decision to leave or what. i just don't know.

i was hanging out with a friend last night and they were scrolling through a discord server and i recognised some of my friends in there. i asked them about it and they told me it was the same server. in the moment, i felt like making more of an effort to talk to and befriend this group of people, as i am no longer as stressed as i was with work (but still very busy) and so i asked them if they could send me a link. they said something to the effect of it wasn't their server so they didn't want to hand out links, which is fair but the way they said it struck me as being a bit odd. so, i messaged the person who owned the server and asked if i could be let in (on my friends advice). they messaged me back saying that "a few of the admins and mods were uncomfortable with you in their space" and that they would "double check with them but it isnt looking too good right now"

which leads me to where i am now. i havent been in this server for at least a good six months, but probably much longer. i thought i left, but i was possibly removed? im really unsure about the circumstances to be plainly honest.

i know that if anyone is reading this, i probably sound like your average socially unaware loser who was clearly being an asshole in some way im not disclosing in my post but. because it was a while ago now and ive been so busy, im having trouble remembering my interactions in there - but in my interactions with others i do a lot to ensure that im being polite and friendly with others. i just have no clue what i could have done, either online or in person to make these people so uncomfortable.

this also reminds me of a very unfortunate situation a few years ago where i had a nasty argument with someone who was previously a close friend, and they told all of our mutual friends that i had told them to kill themselves (i hadnt, we'd just had an argument). i had worked very hard to build that connection with those friends, and because they were closer with the other person, they had believed them. i foind i was suddenly uninvited from the group chat, and when i went to go and say my usual hellos to them (because at the time i had no idea about the rumour) they all reacted very strangely and all seemed incredibly uncomfortable, so i left them alone after that. this incident caused me to socially isolate myself for years, rather than pushing everyone to tell me why i was making them uncomfortable. i still havent heard directly from those people today, which would be fine if they showed no interest in talking to me, but at a convention towards the end of last year, they came up to me and asked me where I'd gone, and have been friendly since, but the level of that seems to fluctuate back into them shunning me, for reasons I'm unsure of.

this situation did a lot of damage to me, but i dont want to flip out just because the situation im in now reminds me of the last one. unless they tell me what's wrong (which i dont think they will) I can't really learn anything specific from it, so i guess at this point i just have to try and be more careful in social interactions with others in the future and try not to let it bother me? i just have no clue other than that

[worfianism]

Okay im on northern lights watch, doesn't look like I will see them but here's my thoughts about the new doctor who episodes

Spoilers below :)

AaHhh they were really fun and good and I watched them with my 9 year old brother who has only watched the episodes from last year and he loved it too!!! It's crazy because I started watching it when I was 9 and now I get to pass it on to him and we're both in love with this show now.

Anyway it was really fun! I loved the space babies episode mostly because the doctor and Ruby were AMAZING and omg the BABIESSSSS they were wayyyyy too cute and I loved them and even the bogeyman being made of actual bogeys was so DW and silly. Also Golda Rosheuvel was great as Nan-E. And also they made the bogeyman actually weirdly sympathetic even though it did not get for example the treatment some of the I guess "innocent monsters" from Moffat's era got. Also lots of exposition at the beginning which could have been done more smoothly but actually quite helpful for getting 9 year olds into the show haha, I remember watching the episodes out of order and having to piece things together. Anyway I really enjoyed it, I think the first half was stronger than the second half but still good. Also lots of callbacks to Series 1-7, with the butterfly effect and the consequences of changing the world and the phone and the getting slapped by mothers and the secret scans on companions and the consequences of visiting to your parents in the past etc. Also ive missed a companion mystery box a bit, I'm waiting on the execution but I've missed having an overarching theme centred on the companion basically

The Devil's Chord was really fun as well! I think I need to rewatch it because I was distracted by that point by whether I would see the lights or not but the Maestro was great! The episode was a little more messy to me than the first episode but still fun and I liked the development on the stuff from the specials. I wish there hadn't been a time skip tho! The beginning of the Doctor/Companion adventures are important for establishing dynamics and like what the conflicts in the relationship are going to be I guess. But I guess this doctor is a lot more open than previous ones so we dont necessarily need like 4 episodes of companions having to pry open the Doctor's backstory with their bare hands but also 6 months is a long time to know someone as in its long enough to ESTABLISH a dynamic. Something we should've really seen on screen (a complaint I had about the last few seasons as well in that we just got told they were all really close friends not shown it), Ruby and the Doctor clearly are good friends and have been basically since day one but I wish we saw maybe a bit more of Ruby getting to see the doctor when he's not being fun new friend and being a bit more oncoming storm I guess. I also LOVED LOVED LOVED the return of the older DW scores and references to older DW like Susan! And I actually am liking this weird fantasy element, I didn't think I would but I've seen some really interesting ideas and theories and I'm excited to see where it goes.

Anyway I am one happy gal.

[gentlemanjimcraddock]

Wanna Try Star Trek? 4 - Bad Makeup and Bad Acting

John Startrek reporting in for our newest entry of Wanna Try Star Trek, where we’ll be looking at The Next Generation for the first time. TNG ran for seven seasons between 1987-1994, and was a genuine cultural phenomenon. The Original Series was more of a cult success, and the movies were certainly successful, but it wasn’t until Picard and co started boldly going that Trek truly entered the cultural mainstream.

So far we’ve had some fairly high concept shows, but TNG’s setup is quite simple. There’s a ship. It’s called the Enterprise. There are people on it. They have adventures.

Our story today is Too Short A Season, from Season 1, which was 26 episodes in total. I dunno, seems long enough to me.

So, whether you’ve boldly gone down this path before, or you’re just Star Trek-curious, get yourself a cup of Earl Grey, hot, and join me on this journey.

We open with Captain Jean-Luc Picard narrating his Captain’s Log, that the Enterprise has been assigned to pick up and escort Admiral Mark Jameson to negotiate a hostage crisis on the planet Mordan IV. 

Jameson is an 85 year old wheelchair bound man, being played by a 30 year old man in a pretty shoddy makeup job. To be honest, I’m not very interested in critiquing that aspect. I’ve seen enough shoddy sci-fi effects to find them kinda charming. A much fairer criticism is of Clayton Rohner’s old man acting, where he’s engaging in just about every cliche of a young actor playing an old character. It’s a little much, even for me.

With Jameson on the bridge, Picard mentions that he’ll need to undergo a medical procedure, which Jameson isn’t fond of, but Picard insists it’s a routine procedure. Gee, I wonder if this is foreshadowing. The governor of Mordan IV, a man named Karnas, calls the Enterprise and says that if Jameson isn’t present, the terrorists will kill the hostages. Picard discusses the call with Jameson and his crew, with Counsellor Troi saying that she detects that Karnas is holding something back. Here, Jameson shows his shrewdness by giving a pretty incisive read on Karnas. Don’t underestimate your elders, kids, they’ve picked up a few things.

Medical Officer’s Note: Troi is a Betazoid-Human hybrid. Betazoids look almost to humans, save the eyes, which certainly helps keep the makeup budget down. They’re also telepathic, which would be a super handy power for a counsellor to have. Sadly, Troi lacks this due to her human heritage and instead possesses an empathic sense. Luckily, it can even span lightyears if she’s having a space zoom call.

Now, time to repeat the previous scene in a new location. They’re in Picard’s ready room, a little office just off the bridge, talking about what the terrorists could want. Lt Commander Data posits that they’re unhappy with Karnas’ leadership, and want to join the Federation. Jameson instead suggests that they want the Federation to arm them so they can restart the civil war that devastated their planet. A civil war, you say? Gee, I wonder if that’s foreshadowing.

Jameson goes back to his quarters where his wife Anne is waiting. She notes that he’s looking stronger and healthier since they came onto the ship, but Jameson gets a sharp pain in his chest. Anne wants to call sickbay, but Jameson insists that it’s a complication of his medical condition, although Anne doesn’t seem completely convinced. Gee, I wonder if this bit is getting old yet.

Speaking of sickbay, Doctor Crusher (who is Picard’s situationship, to make an understatement) has an important issue to bring to Picard’s attention. See, Jameson sent over the results of a medical examination from two days ago, so clearly he doesn’t need a checkup. Except, these results are two months old, not two days. Picard suggests it could just be an age related slipup and accidentally insults Crusher, before backpedalling and asking her to observe Jameson from the bridge for the next few days.

Back on the bridge, Picard offers Jameson the chance to pilot the ship for a while, and Jameson surprises everybody by getting up and walking the length of the bridge to the Conn. He puts this down to some new therapy he’s been doing lately, but Crusher takes Picard aside and says that’s simply not possible. Jameson’s condition is irreversible, and there is no therapy that can roll back the effects.

That night when he returns to his quarters, Jameson’s not only up and walking about, he’s trying to get frisky with Anne. She remarks that he’s even looking younger, which he is, thanks to a relaxed makeup job. Before they do the do though, Jameson’s pain flares up again and this time Anne does call sickbay.

Crusher is flummoxed, and tells Picard as much. Jameson must have ingested some kind of wonder drug that’s not only reversing his ageing, it’s also cured his incurable Iverson’s Disease.

An even younger Jameson, swaggering about his quarters with the energy of youth, tells Picard just how he managed this turnabout. He visited the remote planet of Cerebus III in search of a mythical drug. Turns out it’s real, and Jameson procured two samples, one for him and one for Anne. There’s a few caveats, however. You have to tailor the doses to the individual, and take them over the course of months. But when Jameson got the call, he decided to take both samples as is.

Anne hates that he’s kept all these secrets from her, and gone to such extremes just assuming that he’s right. Picard is more concerned with why Jameson felt it so necessary, which Jameson pointedly doesn’t answer.

Later, from a darkened meeting room where we can’t see Jameson’s face, Jameson calls Karnas to ask more questions about the terrorists. Pretty quick, Jameson starts to realise there are no terrorists, and Karnas is the hostage taker, wanting revenge on Jameson for some unspecified reason.

He goes to the bridge, looking quite young by now, where he orders the ship to speed up. This is, notably, Jameson overstepping his bounds. See, something I glossed over earlier is that they make a point of saying that Jameson is in charge of the mission and any away teams, but Picard is still in command of the ship itself. So Picard pushes back, and Jameson tells him he plans to personally lead an armed rescue team to free the hostages.

We transition to a shot of Jameson in the captain’s seat as he goes through his plan with Picard, who urges a more cautious approach. Jameson’s ego, anger, and magic space drug induced mania are clearly driving his actions here.

Anne, meanwhile, is talking to Troi & Crusher about how hurt and betrayed she feels. A particular sticking point for her is that Jameson gets to live his life anew, while she’s still an old woman. Crusher has to break it to Anne that, actually, the drug is killing Jameson.

We’re in another darkened meeting room now, with Picard coming to get some answers out of Jameson. See, Jameson had previously negotiated a hostage crisis on Mordan IV, where he famously talked down none other than Karnas himself. While Jameson did manage an impressive victory, the planet soon descended into 40 years of civil war with Karnas as one of the leaders.

At least, that’s the official story. Karnas wanted Federation weapons to wipe out his rivals with. Jameson agreed, but then secretly armed the other side with the same weapons. This was his interpretation of the Prime Directive - though he had interfered, he’d left the situation equal. Unfortunately, those weapons formed the core of the bloody civil war that engulfed Mordan IV. That’s Karnas’ motivation, revenge against the man who made their war quite so bloody.

First Officer’s Note: The Prime Directive is a very important and famously inconsistent piece of Star Trek lore. It’s actually two directives - 1) do not interfere with the development of a culture that has not reached a certain level of technological development 2) do not interfere with the internal affairs of civilisations that have reached that point - the problem is that it’s never kept consistent, and characters and stories will interpret it wildly different over the years.

Picard tries to mollify Jameson’s guilt, even though he’s clearly in the wrong. Jameson, rightfully, realises that the deaths of millions are on his head, and says he sees this as his do-over. So this time, he’s going in guns blazing.

With the away team ready to beam down, Picard makes it clear he’s not happy with this plan. Tough titties, Jameson says, you can’t stop me. I can’t, Picard replies, but I can go with you. So Picard beams down with Jameson and the team. 

They arrive in a series of tunnels underneath the city. Jameson insists that he knows a direct route to Karnas’ palace, but Data says their scans show no such passage. Jameson insists, and when they reach a dead end where an open connection should be, they’re forced to cut a hole in the wall with their phasers to proceed. 

Karnas predicted something like this, however. Gee it’s almost like he’s a leader with forty years of wartime experience or something. A large group of soldiers set on the away team, forcing a firefight. The team is pinned down, and Jameson’s pain returns. Picard takes charge and orders an immediate transport back to the Enterprise.

On the bridge, Karnas calls up, livid over the attack, and says he’ll start killing hostages if Jameson isn’t beamed down in ten minutes. Jameson is dying, but insists he be sent down to try to set things right.

Karnas, of course, doesn’t believe that this shaking and shivering young man really is Jameson, and Picard has to try to convince him. Even with Jameson’s intimate knowledge of what happened 40 years ago, it’s a no-go.

Crusher says that Jameson is fading fast, and Anne should beam down so they can say their goodbyes. Picard allows it, and tries to show evidence of Jameson’s regression, in the form of a series of still photos. Somehow, this doesn’t work. Nor does a great big Picard speech. What does is Karnas insisting on seeing “the scar”, which Jameson shows him.

Instead of shooting him, Karnas decides that letting him live out his life in this terrible pain is much more fitting. It takes maybe a minute or two, and Jameson gets to spend a few sweet moments with Anne before he dies.

Karnas releases the hostages, and Jameson is buried on Mordan IV.

So, did y’all realise that the entire plot changed partway through there? Jameson’s ageing turning him manic and arrogant goes completely out the window when he calls Karnas, and instead becomes a story about war crimes and redemption. It’s an odd switch, and one that doesn’t work.

Either approach is fine, and fertile ground for a Star Trek story, but trying to do both means that one story doesn’t get an ending and the second is underexplored. 

There’s not a lot for anybody not named Picard or Jameson to do in this story, it’s less an ensemble piece and more a story all about its guest. I mentioned Picard, Crusher, Data, and Troi, but I didn’t even mention Worf, Riker, La Forge, or Yar, who all do appear in this episode and do get a few lines.

The other major problem is that, when it does turn into a political drama, it’s curiously unwilling to take a firm stance. Our lead, Picard, tries to defend him, and Karnas is shown to be in the wrong, if only in his actions if not his feelings. It’s a very late 90’s “end of history” viewpoint.

Common wisdom is that every Trek show from this period has a weak first two seasons. It’s hard to refute that, but for all its flaws, Too Short A Season is still one of the better stories of this inaugural season. While it’s not a waste of your time, there’s certainly a lot better you could do with this franchise.

Like, hopefully, our next episode. Great Wheel of Trek, don’t fail me now.

Ho boy, we’re gonna have to talk about Chakotay.

[thiscatiscreepy]

Damn it's over a year old.

Anyways pasting the entirety of the unfinished Black Mold fic under readmore so you can also enjoy how weirdly I wrote it.

I hope I can rewrite it better at some point.

Raphaella had recently finished a quite entertaining book on various plagues and maladies, and went to Ivy's to return it. Her room wasn't locked - a good sign, the archivist was in an agreeable mood and could even help her find something new to read. Walking into the large library, Raphaella pronounced a sing-along "hi", but the only answer was a faint echo from exposed metal walls. Ivy wasn't talkative, it seemed, or was simply too busy to afford being able to hear. Raphaella closed the door behind herself and strolled to the "reception" desk, where the archivist kept the book borrowing list. Before signing the return box, she looked through what the others had; Ashes had taken a poetry collection, which they had brought back a day later, Nastya was reading her favourite Cyberian novels again, and Marius had finally started the trilogy she'd been recommending him for several decades. Raphaella left her signature in the list and set off to find where the book belonged in the library.

Turning a few rows of bookcases, she discovered Ivy sitting in the reading area of her room; a clearing in the labyrinth of shelves with some comfortable furnishings and refreshments. The archivist was gripping a book and clearly hard at work in her head: her gaze was unfocused, the jaw tense, her breathing slow and methodical, the gears in her skull whirring loudly. However, her eyes darted more than usual, her hands were trembling slightly, and there was some strange ticking coming from her. Maybe she was combing through a particularly corrupted transmission. Raphaella waved at her, calling out her name, but Ivy didn't pay her any attention. Not wanting to bother the librarian any more, she moved on with her task while examining the shelves for anything that might pique her interest. There were several such books: one on medical radiation, a second on mosses, and a third one on venoms. She put her returned book on its place, and perused the library some more.

Raphaella noticed the poetry collection Ashes had borrowed and fluttered up to take a look at the contents. It wasn't a very good book. The poems were too long, more style than substance, and all about broken hearts and dreams. She couldn't recall Ashes ever talking about poetry, and reasoned they'd wanted to branch out their interests. This was definitely a bad first impression. Raphaella mused on some poetry about teeth and vivisection that had made her cry, though she couldn't precisely place why. Ashes probably wouldn't like it, too visceral. Walking along the shelves, she thought some more, and her mind stopped at the anthology she and Marius had once read. It had all kinds of poems; from morning coffee to spirituality. That could be a good starting point to help Ashes find poems to fit their tastes. She couldn't locate that same book but she did find a poetry magazine, and, skimming through some entries, she declared her search complete.

While on her little quest for good poems for Ashes, she ruminated on what book she should burrow next and decided she couldn't choose just one. In the end, she plucked all three and, beaming, went to the reception desk. She passed by the reading area on the way back and looked at Ivy.

The archivist was bleeding freely from her nose, the blood staining her clothes, the book she was still gripping tightly, the table, the chair and even the carpet. She was open-mouthed, her body was heaving with every rapid breath. Her face was contorted into the mask of abject terror. There were cluttering noises coming from her. It took Raphaella a moment to believe what her eyes were showing her, another moment to realise that this wasn't normal, and a final moment to shove her books on the table and rush to the other woman, calling her name. Only then did Ivy finally acknowledge her presence, laying trembling eyes on the scientist and producing a low, gutteral sound, something between a groan and a roar. As Raphaella tried to touch her, she recoiled violently and bared bloody teeth with a hiss. She moved her lips, but no sound came. Raphaella leaned in closer out of instinct to hear Ivy utter "leave" and "myself" before getting slapped in the face by a bloodied book. She staggered sideways, and the archivist tried to turn away, but the other woman grabbed her arm and pulled, forcing Ivy off the chair. She collapsed almost immediately, shaking her head and trying to free herself. Raphaella went on her knees to turn her on the side and support her head, which was burning to the touch. Now she could clearly hear the noise Ivy's brain was making: grinding, snapping and rattling of metal.

"What's going on?!" she cried out.

The archivist shook her bloody head and tried to form words, but all that came out were gasps and hissing. Raphaella shouted Ivy's name. Something in her head popped. She grabbed at the scientist, her eyes enormous.

"Knowledge," she breathed, "eats me."

Her skull snapped and she resumed to shake her head and wail. Raphaella stared helplessly, and her eyes begun to burn. What was she supposed to do? Something was wrong with Ivy's mechanical brain, it was deteriorating by the minute, and the scientist didn't know how how fix it. It would be too risky to leave to get help, and Raphaella shouted to the Aurora that Ivy was unwell, hoping someone would come. Ivy's head produced a loud crunch and she screamed hoarsely. The scientist hugged her tightly and sobbed. Pressed close, she felt her heartbeat, rapid and uneven, how much blood was pouring out of her, felt how cold her skin was, how desperate the breaths were, how weak her movements grew. She was dying, and Raphaella didn't know what to do.

Minutes passed, Ivy never stopped bleeding, but something in her skull clicked, she trembled and gasped, and her breathing steadied somewhat. Raphaella noticed that, touched her head; still hot, but not burning. She couldn't afford to relax yet, but she sighed a relief all the same. At that moment, someone barged into the library. Nastya, breathing rapidly, appeared before her and frowned upon seeing the bloody scene.

"What happened?" she asked, bending down to examine Ivy's mechanism. Raphaella only shook her head.

"I think," the scientist swallowed her tears, "I think she's getting better. We need to get her to the medbay."

Nastya nodded and lifted Ivy out of Raphaella's arms. She was deathly white, her eyes were dark and sunken, she was shaking, still bleeding, still throwing around, still grunting. They walked swiftly, not minding the blood staining the metal floor. Raphaella relayed what happened the best she could, from Ivy's unusual initial stage to her cryptic words. All the while the archivist's head kept cracking and clicking.

"Do you know what could have caused this?" Raphaella asked Nastya, "Did she tell you anything similar?"

The engineer shook her head, frowning even more. Behind, the women heard quick footsteps.

"What happened? Is Ivy okay?" Marius asked, out of breath. He got his answer when Nastya turned around to look at him, revealing the ghostly, wide-eyed archivist in her arms. He stared at her, for a moment unable to move. Her skull popped, and she exhaled heavily. The doctor ran ahead to the medbay to get everything ready, and Raphaella joined him.

She told Marius the same story of what happened, and asked the same question, if Ivy'd ever spoke of this to him. He shook his head, though his mind seemed preoccupied with something else. In the medbay, the two prepared a bed, as well as some wet towels and a bag of the archivist's own blood. Marius was getting cotton swabs and alcohol when Nastya walked in.

"She stopped bleeding," she said, and put Ivy on the bed. Raphaella hooked her up to the IV, while Marius put a wet towel on her hot head. He checked her pulse, still irregular. Her skull snapped, and Ivy hissed, her expression getting more determined and her body tense. Her head produced more clanks and clicks, until it popped one final time and grew quiet. The archivist relaxed her muscles, sighed, and reluctantly closed her eyes. She ceased moving, causing a momentary panic.

"She's still got a pulse," Marius weighed in, "I think she passed out."

Indeed, Raphaella could now see her faint, even breaths. Her struggle had concluded, and she thought Ivy would appear calm and resolved, but instead the abundant drying blood and her almost snowy face made her look like a brutalised corpse.

Marius took the wet towel off Ivy's head and began to gently rub the blood off her face. The cloth became soaked in seconds, and there were still thick streaks of crimson on her cheeks, but at least she looked like a living person again. He offered the towel to the other two women. Nastya took it and quickly wiped her hands and arms, then demanded a clean one for Raphaella. The scientist was briefly taken aback, but then recalled how long she'd held Ivy in the library. She looked over herself and saw her entire outfit turned to red, with only small patches untouched by blood. She couldn't even imagine how her face and hair looked at that moment. She took the fresh towel and wiped it vigorously against her face, it came away with bits of crusted blood.

The three sat fidgeting, watching as color returned to Ivy's face. At one point the door to the medbay opened, and Ashes walked in, following the trail of blood. They walked over to the archivist, looked her over, and turned to the others for an explanation. While Raphaella told the story for the third time, Ashes put the back of the hand to Ivy's head, their face tense.

"You look after her," they commanded at Marius, who nodded briskly. After taking a final look at the archivist, they left.

Nastya squatted next to the bed, trying to see the inside of Ivy's mechanism. She even reached for a flashlight in her pocket, but thought better of it. She touched her metal scalp from different angles, hummed and stood up to leave.

"You're not staying?" Raphaella asked.

"She'll be fine, she's strong," the engineer stopped in the doorway to say. "She's been through worse."

That left only Marius and Raphaella in the medbay. The doctor occasionally checked Ivy's pulse and temperature, and even finished cleaning her face. The archivist breathed more noticeably now, and turned in her sleep. How long had it been since she'd been brought into into the medbay, an hour? Raphaella felt that just a few minutes ago she'd thought Ivy would die in her arms, and now she'd been brought back to life in no time at all. Looking at her bloodied clothes, she still felt that chilling fear at watching her bleed out from an unexplained cause. It made her clench her teeth and tense her fists. Why didn't Ivy tell anyone that could happen, that her brain could betray her in that way?

"She'll need to explain all this," Raphaella said to Marius when he sat down next to her. She hoped he'd nod or hum, or show any sign he shared the bitter anger and worry the scientist was feeling. Instead, he pressed his lips tight, brow furrowed.

"Are you okay?" She asked, tension in her body shifting to confusion. The doctor's face drew taught, he scratched his beard.

"She asked me not to tell," he mumbled, then sat silent. Raphaella had several questions on her mind, but couldn't choose which one to ask first, and in her baffled silence, he spoke.

"Something happened a few decades ago. We, Ivy and I, were sorting through some books and she got a nosebleed."

Raphaella tensed again.

"She froze completely when she realised it, didn't respond to her name, just stared at something with those huge eyes," he continued, "she recovered after a few seconds, wiped the blood and told me not to mention that to anyone. But her face in that moment was the same as today: pure, genuine horror."

Raphaella knew what he meant. Ivy had a hard time hiding her emotions, everything she felt showed unfiltered on her face. If she'd had such a reaction, she was truly afraid. But of what?

"And you just didn't tell anyone?" she ended up asking. Marius threw up his arms.

"It was a nosebleed! They're embarrassing! And how was I supposed to know it could lead to this?" He gestured at the prone archivist.

Raphaella searched for words, but had to agree; she herself didn't act when she first saw Ivy acting off. Shame prickled her chest.

"How is she?" she asked.

"Good. All good," Marius said grimly, "as if nothing happened."

~~~

Ivy was stirring from a strange and painful dream, and desperately tried to hold it together long enough to remember as she woke up. It was crucial that she remembered what was revealed in her sleep. But then the wave came, centuries of information crashed down on her memories and tore them like a tornado would tear a butterfly. The wave rushed to fill her head to bursting, forcing itself down her neurons and lashing violently against her nerves, loud as thunder. She had probably screamed, because someone was touching her. She shook them off, she didn't know who that was. Wait, no, she'd seen them somewhere, in the tsunami of information. Doctor baron Marius von Raum, doctor of the starship Aurora. What was "starship Aurora"? Not "what", but "who", the ship was sentient, and she was in her medbay, covered in blood. Who was "she"? Ivy Alexandria, the archivist and navigator of the starship Aurora.

Gradually, she came to understand her surroundings and could finally focus on what Marius had been saying.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She could not feel anything hurting physically, so she answered affirmatively.

"Is your mechanism working okay?" he followed up.

She felt her face scrunch in a frown, and tried righting the muscles into a neutral position. She wouldn't had been alive if her brain wasn't functioning properly, but she ran a scan to confirm.

As she suspected, all was in order, and she answered affirmatively.

"Are you sure?" Marius asked, concern on his face.

She scanned again and reaffirmed her answer, but that didn't quiet his worry. She waited for him to explain himself, and when be didn't, she asked him herself.

"You," the doctor seemed to struggle to find words, "you had a bad nosebleed."

For a moment, she squinted at him and looked at herself, and saw her clothes almost black with blood. Not unusual after a violent encounter, but a nosebleed? She began to wonder what could have caused such blood loss, but her mind jerked, she tripped on a giant, unmistakable warning wailing of the dangers that lay beyond. She stepped back from that point in her brain. She seemed to have jumped, as Marius was holding her again.

"Are you okay, is it happening again?" he asked.

Again, the warning flashed in ber head, brighter than a supernova. She shook her head, trying to not to think about that place.

"Stop talking about it!" she yelled and calmed her furious expression. "I'm fine."

She stood up from the bed and almost fell over, grabbing at a cabinet. Marius tried to steady her, but shot a glare at him and he stood back. Ivy reached in and discovered her stabilisation was off, she took a moment to recalibrate it. She made a note to thoroughly check the rest of her brain, and wondered what had caused it, but was again met with the imposing warning signs. She shook it off and headed for the exit.

"Do you need help?" Marius sounded behind her. She replied a sturn "no" and didn't let him ask another question.

There was blood trailing the floor outside the medbay. Ivy didn't have to guess its source, and she took a second to calculate how much blood she'd lost on her way to the doctor. The result made her shiver. She almost wandered into the sealed off part of her mind again, but managed to steer away. She needed a strategy to analyse the warnings and what they were guarding without causing another meltdown, but the sight of blood was dragging her to that forbidden territory. She closed her eyes, pulled up the map of the Aurora, put a hand on the wall, and walked to her room.

She wished she could truly navigate the ship with her eyes closed, but the organic body produced inconsistencies in gait and speed that she couldn't master. There were many occasions on which she still tried to walk aided only by her mind, which ended in her breaking her nose against a metal wall. She envied the Toy Soldier and Brian in those moments. She could only imagine how joyous it would be to have a body that obeys your orders precisely and tirelessly, that doesn't strain from repetition, ache with hunger or run out of breath mid-sentence. She would barely hesitate to give away the pleasures of nerves and muscle for that. But for now, she relied on walls to tell how far she'd traveled and where to take turns.

Soon, Ivy reached her room and opened her eyes. She knew the blood trail would continue into the library, but it was barely visible. Someone had tried to clean it off the floor. The archivist crouched to examine the residue, and the smell alone gave away the secret custodian; Raphaella, with her favourite blood detergent. Ivy remembered hearing the scientist's voice, but it was faint and unintelligible as though she talked through a wall.

Wait, it hit Ivy, she could recall something from the incident. She searched around some more. She remembered laying down, being carried, laying down again. She dug deeper, and found moments of lucidity, where she saw Raphaella and Nastya. Deeper still, she recalled the book she was reading last, sitting in her favourite chair. She poked around, and was deafened by warning sirens all around her. She cringed, retreated, and sighed.

Ivy heard the door open, and saw Raphaella with thick gloves and bottles of milky liquid. The scientist gasped and dropped everything to rush to the other woman.

"Ivy, are you okay? Everything working normally?" she asked. The archivist answered affirmatively.

"What happened?" Raphaella followed up, her voice lower.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ivy spoke almost automatically.

"You almost died! You said strange things, it was horrifying!" the scientist raised her voice.

"I don't -" Ivy began to repeat herself, but stopped. "What did I say?"

She felt her face tense, but couldn't help it. Raphaella probably saw that, because she hesitated her answer.

"You said... the knowledge was eating you." She almost whispered. "What did you mean by that?"

The archivist let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "I don't want to talk about it," she reaffirmed, and urged Raphaella to let give her some space. The scientist tried to argue, that she wanted to finish cleaning up, but Ivy was firm on being alone for a while.

For a few seconds the archivist stood still in her library, thinking over what she'd learnt. This had definitely been going on for a while, and her past self had deemed it dangerous enough to implore such violent warnings. Ivy trusted herself to only erect these concrete spikes when absolutely necessary, but she needed to understand what they guarded, and how it'd incapacitated her.

Since the direct confrontation had proven fruitless, Ivy attempted to observe the warnings sidelong, on the periphery of consciousness. Indeed, they didn't blind or deafen her when payed little attempted to. The archivist discovered a wall forming an irregular closed area, and she just then noticed a slight but insistent current pushing her away from its edges. A smart way of deterring a wandering mind, she commended her past self.

She nudged herself against the current hard enough to surpass it, like one might push a paper boat. She flowed past the fence, feeling its hot urgency phase through her. He did it, she conquered her mind back. The triumph, however, was brief, as she almost fell into an abyss that lay just behind the warnings. Ivy made a quick check of the area to find several thousand data nods gone from her memory. Not erased, or transplanted, or wiped clean, ready for new data, but entirety, irreversibly gone.

Ivy kept everything she'd ever read, seen, heard, touched, spoken and felt. She didn't dare throw away any data, however tempting that may be. She'd tried once. But for something as self-referential as the human brain, the absent memory shocked her like an electric jolt. Any time she'd veered close to that section of her mind, Ivy'd run along its pathways and had broken against a dead end, horrified that her brain had already started decaying. The momentary terror subsided once she'd remembered that the absence was of her making, but the endless pit in the intersection of data still made her distressed far more than any pain that memory had held.

And so to see not just a pit in her mind, but an abyss; unfathomably vast, infinitely deep, made Ivy retch.

She didn't want to even think about it, but the horror almost pushed her towards it, to look into it, to count how much information is gone forever. She ran against it, towards the fence, but found the guarded place more difficult to escape than intrude into. The warnings were even brighter and louder on the inside of the wall, tasing her very heart as she screamed and clawed out, back into normality. She might have shrieked in her library, Ivy couldn't tell, she was too lightheaded and exhausted, her brain hot enough to make her eyes burn from the inside. She needed a respite for a bit.

Ivy looked over herself. There were peeling streaks of crimson on her skin. Her clothes were heavy and rough from dried blood. It was in her hair too. She smelled of iron, salt and alcohol.

She took a hot shower, watching the water turn red and disappear down the drain. The smell of iron grew stronger from the heat. It felt like something trickled out of her nose, and she touched it warily, but it was just stray water. Ivy wanted this shower to last longer, to wash away the abyss as easily as the blood, but her mind wandered back to the wall and to the cold emptiness inside, as if they were the only things in existence. She stepped out and dressed. There was still one more thing to check on.

Coming into the reading area of her library, Ivy found what could pass as a murder scene. The furniture was pushed violently, and a single book lay torn and blood soaked on the floor. More blood was sprayed everywhere and collected in a black pool on the rug. She sat in a clean chair and looked at the ruined carpet. She liked that carpet. It had an intricate tangle of roads on it, and Ivy'd followed them when she'd wanted to concentrate. Now, all these roads, winding and crossing, eventually disappeared into the dark red void.

Ivy's head throbbed and she buried it in her hands, ignoring the heat. Too many reminders, too many things pushing her back to the explosive warnings, to the abyss. She felt like tearing her hair out. Instead, she briskly stood up and left the library.

Walking through the Aurora's corridors, Ivy examined the ship's blueprints, identified the alloys of her metal panels, logged malfunctioning lights, and gradually her head cooled. Subtly, she reminded herself of the rug and turned sharply to Ashes' quarters. They kept a collection of antique furniture that they'd burn in a pile when planetside, to look pensively into the fire. Before meeting that demise, the pieces were available for trade, and Ivy didn't doubt Ashes had a rug she'd like.

When the archivist got to her destination, she knocked and entered. Ashes' room seemed to look different every time she came in: the armchairs were red velvet instead of black leather, the large painting above the decorative fireplace was replaced with tree smaller ones, and even the wallpaper displayed a different pattern. The quartermaster was sitting in one of the armchairs, looking up at Ivy from their book and giving a nod. She nodded back and walked to them.

"You good?" Ashes asked as she approached.

Ivy almost recoiled at the question, but she answered affirmatively. They smiled faintly and nodded. She noticed they were reading some poetry journal. It confused her, she thought they didn't like poetry.

"Do you know what happened?" they followed up in a sturn tone.

The archivist briefly gritted her teeth, wishing these questions would stop. But, as the ship's quartermaster and, in the absence on an elected captain, the defacto leader, they had the right to know of the crew's problems and how to deal with them in the future. Ivy sighed.

"I'm looking into it," she answered.

Ashes nodded. "Do you know what caused it?"

"I'm looking into it." Ivy repeated. "I will report to you with results."

They nodded again with a smile and went back to their reading.

"What'd you need?" Ashes asked with a more casual tone.

"A rug. My current one's unsalvageable," the archivist said.

They hummed but didn't answer for a while, eyes in the book. Ivy could hear a grandfather's clock and the creaking of the ship in the silence.

"Okay, let's see." Ashes layed down the poetry and strode to their storage with their guest.

The room looked like a furniture store, with everything organised into little sets or stacked neatly against the wall. Ivy stopped several times to inspect some antique armoires and intricate silverware while Ashes walked on nonchalantly. There were octokittens sleeping on a torn sofa, and she pet them thoroughly. After getting her fill, she jogged up the the corner with carpets of all shapes and sizes.

"What kind do you want?" the quartermaster asked, unfurling a massive teal rug with ocean motifs. Ivy took a moment to look it over, wide-eyed.

"Something geometric, similar to my current rug." She said. "Preferably with a labyrinth as a pattern."

Ashes hummed and looked at their collection thoughtfully. After a second, they unrolled another rug, earthly red with layers of intersecting rooms and halls, like the map of a dungeon. Ivy's eyes began following its corridors almost on their own.

"How about this one?" they asked.

Ivy nodded enthusiastically, "this is perfect, thank you!"

Ashes smiled at her and rolled the rug back up. The two then tied it and made handles out of rope for easier handling.

"Do you need help with it?" the quartermaster asked as Ivy weighed the roll in her hands. She shook her head, it wasn't a terribly big rug, and her room wasn't too far, she could carry it by herself just fine. As she left Ashes', they reminded her to bring the old one to them. Ivy nodded and set back home.

At first, she was full of energy over the excitement of something new in her library, but gradually the rope started to dig into her palms and the weight strained her arms. She tried to walk faster but the roll beat heavily against her legs, and she had to take breaks. The exercise made her realise she hadn't eaten since waking up. While crossing an intersection of corridors, Ivy saw Nastya, who was inspecting the seams of the metal walls and muttering in Cyberian, too low to hear. The archivist's mind wandered off for a split moment, and she stumbled over the rolled carpet, drawing Nastya's attention.

"You alright?" she asked after looking Ivy over.

The archivist remembered Nastya's voice in her clouded memory of the incident. She sighed, veering herself away from the abyss, and dropped the carpet, her arms sore. She answered affirmatively.

"Do you need help?" Nastya nodded to the rug.

Ivy looked at her palms with burning red stripes where rope pressed against her skin. She massaged her hands. Her stomach ate at her. She answered affirmatively.

The two women held the rug under their arms and attempted to walk, but the difference in height and gait made the roll sway and push them into the walls. After some trial and error, they managed to match their walking and got the carpet to Ivy's room in no time. But they couldn't start working yet, the archivist was starving.

She rushed to her pantry to get tea and some snacks. She asked Nastya if she wanted anything, and heard a "no" as the engineer retreated into the library. Eager to get the old rug out, Ivy ate quickly and went after the other woman. Nastya was holding the bloody book and looking solemnly into the black pool in the reading area, kicking the edge of the carpet.

"Is the table heavy?" she asked, nodding to it.

"Approximately 320 pounds," Ivy stated almost on impulse, taking the book for the restoration pile. Matte blood ate a hole in the polished wooden surface.

Nastya clicked her tongue. "I need your help to move it."

Ideally, they'd drag it off the carpet entirely, but the rug was large, almost the entire size of the reading area, and the rows of shelves were too tight for the table to squeeze through. Instead, they'd just have to pin it against a shelf and kick the rug from under it. With this in mind, the women grabbed the table and lifted it, just enough to move. The weight pressed back down on Ivy's body, digging her feet into the carpet. For a moment she didn't move out of fear her limbs and spine would break if she did, but Nastya's firm push made her budge. Soon enough the table was against a shelf, the other furniture was moved as well, and the old rug was rolled. Beneath the black pool, some of the blood had seeped into the scratched metal floor. They couldn't get it out.

The chair Ivy had been sitting on was also damaged; its scarlet padding bore the discoloration of drying blood. Ivy dragged it behind as the two women moved the rug to Ashes'. They had to take breaks on their way. Seeing the bloodied chair, the quartermaster insisted on giving Ivy a new one, and she had to find a seat that suited her library best. She ended up choosing an antique chair with leafy green padding, to compliment the new rug. Nastya carried it to her room. Back there, the engineer spread the new carpet, and Ivy couldn't help staring at it while cleaning her own blood off the table. Finally, the two women moved the furniture onto the rug, following the previous arrangement only loosely.

After the hard work, both of them sank into chairs. Nastya sighed deeply and closed her eyes, as if ready to fall asleep right then and there. The snack Ivy'd had was replaced with new, exhausted hunger. This time, she wasn't in a hurry, and could eat properly.

"Do you want tea?" the archivist asked Nastya, who hummed and shook her head.

"I've got work to do." The engineer stood up, stretched, took one last look at the new reading area, and strode to the exit, bidding goodbye.

Ivy had to tear herself away from the renewed space to prepare food, and she sat there again to eat. Such trivial adjustments - a clean carpet, a new chair, shuffled furniture - had made the reading area almost unrecognisable. The archivist stood up several times during her meal to simply walk around and take in all the new patterns in it. She realised she'd been smiling that entire time. It made her giddy, she wanted to sort new books and dust and clean the floors and even restore some damaged tomes. But, her eyes kept drifting to the spot where the new carpet covered up her own blood, and coldness struck her chest. She needed to continue looking into her mind, past the blaring warnings, into the abyss, to make sure her mechanism wasn't compromised. At the same time, she despised that she had to ruin her mood so suddenly. She couldn't put off her internal investigation for too long either; once she went to bed, she'd forget its urgency. Eating, Ivy thought. Ideally, she could stay awake for three days before her body to give out. Realistically, it took less than 18 hours for her mind to become less sharp and prone to drifting, and she couldn't afford swaying on the edge of the chasm. Her body shuddered involuntary and her meal urged to get out of her stomach. She wished she didn't have to think about it.

And it struck her: indeed, she didn't. She didn't need to penetrate the wall or stare into the abyss. The data just outside the guarded perimeter was just as valuable as that on inside, and could clue her to the nature of the thing being held there.

Ivy walked around her library as she circled the wall, examining data nodes closest to it. Coordinates of a dead colony. Information on a specific species of ant. Advice for camping in hot humid weather. Short story about a town on a lake. Paper on the biodiversity of a freshwater area. Description of a snail species. History of a dead star system. Myth of an underwater city. Lifecycle of saltwater fish. Book about different fungi. Another fallen civilization. Mistletoe. Oceans. Death. Fungus.

Ivy caught herself walking faster and barely skimming the information. It simply didn't add up to anything. She stopped, allowing herself a moment to seethe at the discordant data. The back of her eyes felt warm, and Ivy massaged her temples. After a few deep breaths, she looked over the wall's periphery again, and stepped away from it, to more distant information. There she found old manuscripts on dealing with mold, a paper on sudden fall of an ancient empire, and more lowly animals. Suddenly, she encountered a data node dedicated to "memetic hazards", and let out a loud groan.

The term singlehandedly relapsed Ivy into annoyance and anger, and she paced fast through her library. She despised the notion of memetic, or information, "hazards", as it wasn't an actual defined concept, but rather a word people threw at everything under the stars; from propaganda and instructions on making a bomb, to mind crashing pictures in horror stories and nonsensical thought experiments. Ivy stepped out of her mind to try to calm down. Her understanding of the thing within the wall was barely formed as it was, she didn't need senseless words thrown into the mix. Still, if the node was that close to the abyss, it had to have relevance.

After a moment, Ivy returned to the node, looking around for justification for its place in that part of her mind. As she'd expected, she found the usual stories of various objects and creatures who imploded the brains of anyone who dared look at them. But, an adjacent data node made her still for longer than she'd admit.

Parasites. How were parasites, of all things, close to "memetic hazards"? They were real, tangible creatures for one thing, not a formless concept. She could define and list thousands, millions of organisms using another one as both home and food. And it hit her, all other seemingly disparate data around the wall crushed together into a wave of coherence; the invertebrae submitting to fungus and worm, the isopods settling into a fish's mouth, the blood sucking bugs, the civilizations fallen to hubris and madness.

Ivy had parasitic knowledge inside her.

The thought sprung into her mind fully formed and frighteningly familiar. Her stomach dropped, all the air escaped her lungs, she felt weak. She swayed and hit a bookshelf with her shoulder, grabbing at it to keep standing. The muscles of her face stretched and tensed uncontrollably, and she couldn't parce what it'd contorted into. All the blood in her veins seemed to have momentarily frozen, while her brain heat up enough to make her eyes water. She couldn't think, all her thoughts dissolved into the words "parasite" and "knowledge", and her mind conjured images of leeches crawling out of a freshly cracked skull. Ivy stood completely paralysed, barely conscious, for a minute that stretched far too long.

Shakily, she walked along the bookshelves to her new chair, sat, and attempted to think. Her head was still burning, unbearably loud, and she unscrewed the sides of her mechanism to let it breathe. Her hands shook on her knees, and she grabbed white knuckled at her skirt. Her heart beat rapid against her ribs, and she tried breathing slowly to calm it. She needed to think, to analyse, to draw conclusions, but her body betrayed her, cowering in fear, distracting her. Objectively, she knew that the risk of her succumbing to parasitic knowledge is extremely low, yet the shock of it rocked waves inside her, drowning calm logic. If she kept all her distress locked for any longer, it'd boil her.

She doubled over and clutched her head, making a sound between a sob and a groan. For a second, she let go of her iron reason and allowed the worst thoughts to flood her mind. She swore. Something was eating her from the inside. If it'd gotten out once if could do it again. It could fry her brain, kill her, make her claw her eyes out, force her to crash her head against metal walls. She swore again and again. She imagined the parasite escaping and spreading itself through her lips. She shuddered. More horrible possibilities appeared in her mind: the knowledge growing too big for her skull, cracking it from the inside; it making her mechanical brain grow throughout her nerves; her body walking and talking by itself while she was a mere observer.

Ivy despaired for several minutes, until the tide of panic was only ankle-deep. It still lashed at her legs, but didn't cloud her head. She took a breath and dared to think about the living knowledge objectively.

Firstly, it was apparent to her that she'd lived with the parasite for a long while, evident by the abyss, the wall, the warnings, and the warding current. From that, it wasn't unreasonable to think that she had constructed other protections against the knowledge, it was just the matter of finding it. Perhaps it was one of such secondary defences that had malfunctioned. She pinned that thought.

Secondly, the others on the crew didn't appear to recognise the violent incident, therefore there weren't such massive outbreaks before. That points to the quality of security Ivy had set up in her mind, and an extremely low likelihood of it happening again. She pinned that as well, if only to quiet her fear even further.

Finally, and she hated to come to this conclusion, there was more to learn about the parasite inside the wall. The abyss was surely created to limit Ivy's possible exposure to the knowledge, but she'd had to curate the data about it. She was sure there was useful information left by her past self. After hesitating for a moment, she shakily stood up from her chair and left her newly remodeled reading area for the front of the library. There were no carpets, dear books or valuables items, just a few basic wooden chairs and tables on a bare metal floor. Ivy sat where one of the Aurora's cameras can see her, and preemptively leaned forward, so that if the incident repeated, she would bleed on the floor instead of herself. She took a moment to ready herself and turned to the wall.

It appeared less imposing now, its warning sirens not nearly as loud or blinding. Even the outward current wasn't as insistent. Ivy pushed almost too effortlessly past the wall and tried not to acknowledge the chasm beside her.

The nodes around the abyss were damaged horribly; some senselessly, clawed and maimed, torn and scattered, reduced to a mess of ones and zeros. There was nothing left in them. But there were some outliers: data with clear cuts and careful transplants of syllables. It reeked with intent and intelligence. Ivy leaped away from it, her heart pounding wildly. It took her a moment to fully realise that her parasite could manipulate information inside her mind, her archive. Her brain was just as fallible as any other. She put her head in her hands to calm down.

From that moment she looked over data nodes only briefly, to see if it was salvageable. None were, and she couldn't risk reading into the rearranged words. She walked on, and almost missed a path leading into the centre of the abyss. Her heart stopped as she imagined a squirming animalistic mess rushing down it, catching Ivy in its trap. But nothing came, save for dread as she realised she needed to go there, over the bottomless pit. The connection wasn't random, wasn't a oversight by her part self. It was deliberate and it was hers. She readied herself for several minutes before walking it.

There was nothing beside the path, no other data breaches, or islets of information in the void, just this tightrope to a singular point. It felt cold, empty and fatal, like being stranded in an arctic forest with no fire. Ivy couldn't allow herself to think about anything but the slim path over the fathomless emptiness. She knew what could happened if she fell, and shuddered at distant memories of her brain trying and failing to process nothingness.

Soon, she came to the single data node in the abyss, about two thirds of the way to the centre of the chasm. Right where the centre of it would be, was an island. Ivy swore she could hear something from it, it was so tantalisingly close. If she willed it hard enough, she could just bridge the gap. But she knew better.

She took a breath and looked at the data node. It was surrounded by modified malware protection that was clawed and beaten but intact. It required a series of riddles and visual tests to access the information inside, and Ivy felt like she'd done them easily many times before. It opened up, and she could feel her heart beat like a hammer on her ribs. There it was, the most concrete piece of information on the parasite that had almost killed her.

"Several".

And that was it. No name, no origin, not even a more precise number. Just the knowledge that there were several of them in her mind. Ivy stayed at the node for a while, trying to calm her racing heart, listening to distant whispers in languages she could almost understand, and reveling in a sick satisfaction that the things that had razed her mind were tearing at one other like rabid dogs.

Ivy reset the protection on the node, filling it with new riddles on random, and left. After crossing the chasm and the wall, she retreated from her mind and found it burning again.

She wanted to stand up, walk around, cool her head off, to think about what to do next, but instead she sat and stared at the floor. After what she saw in the abyss, an enormous calm washed over her like a great wave. It wasn't the calm of relief, but of acceptance, of inevitability. She felt like a child learning that their sun would explode several billion years from then. How could she stop that?

Reread Black Mold (fic) and damn this bitch DIDN'T know how to write.

[tucute-senpai]

you know the hellsite may be horrible, but at least it wont be on the same level as the fish fans on twitter going through the following list of my account thats been up for four years and tell me 13 year old me was a pedo by default cause i dared to say i dont like the fish

[calliecopper]

Something I wonder about The Quarry is how long all the counselors have actually known one another. I know Kaitlyn and Jacob have known each other since middle school or younger, but I wonder if other characters have links outside of this particular summer, aside from Laura and Max obviously. Like, Ryan clearly has been a counselor many summers in a row for him and Chris to have the bond they do, which I think is mentioned, so is there a possibility any of the other counselors are also returning-counselors and not new to the job? Idk how camp counselors are employed or how that whole process works but I wonder if these characters, particularly the couples, have some built up relationships over the course of a few summers. Like if you kiss Nick as Abi, and you get the "Nick is falling for you" pop-up, it feels pretty quick assuming they don't have any prior relationship/friendship prior to this summer, so do they know each other from years of working at the camp together? Dylan mentions once being a camper at Hackett's Quarry, so has he maybe been a returning-counselor as well.

I'm just absolutely fascinated by the potential relationships that could form from that

[sanstropfremir]

what do you think makes someone have good stage presence? do you think it's something that can be taught or something one just naturally possesses?

i read your answer to the other ask. and re. super m, i like lucas. don't get me wrong. he's very much a hong kong beauty that i love (sm is really missing out by not putting him in more editorials).

but in terms of stage presence, he isn't a standout to me? maybe that's because he's in a group with, in my opinion, two of the best performers (taemin + kai). i put him in the same category as baekhyun. like you mentioned, he doesn't stand out but makes up for it by screaming. but for lucas, he's not the best rapper or vocalist and isn't given a lot of lines.

also, what do you think about nct's infinite concept? this is a bit random but wanted to group together since we're talking about nct members. nct2020 was a whole mess for me (as someone who absolutely LOVED nct2018 concept wise and thought maybe, hey this could work). watching nct2020, it seems... asjhdakjhlgds for a lack of better words. like if i was a member and wasn't taeyong/mark/ten/lucas/doyoung, i would be :/ there's definitely a reason why sm pushes them the most because they're just better in capturing the audience. the other members feel like glorified background dancers.

in my personal opinion, stage presence is how well a performer can convince the audience that they are alive, and that they belong there. the stage is an artifice. it isn’t real, nothing you do on it is real, all performance is just that: performative. a human being’s natural state is not on a large platform being stared at, obviously anyone put in that situation is going to find it difficult to act in a natural way. why do you think people hate public speaking? why stage fright is a thing? those of us that can make it over that initial hurdle of being looked at have dual challenges; we as the audience know this whole scenario is fake; what makes it real is our willingness to be convinced that it is real, and the performer’s ability to make us believe that it is real. a huge part of this is making their bodies move and respond in a way that we recognize. this includes making facial expressions. it also includes exuding the confidence that you belong on that stage. that we should be looking at you. this is no place for timidity or nervousness. yes, i do think this is something you can learn, it’s acting and anyone can learn to act. do some people have an advantage over others? absolutely, it's the same with any skill. are there some people that despite being on stage for years never learn? also yes. i don’t think it's a ‘you have it or you don’t’ scenario, like with all reductivist binary statements, it belittles the effort of the people that work extremely hard to get where they are. this is the fallacy of mozart***; those with a high level of natural talent cannot coast by just that talent alone - a true artist is dedicated to pushing their own boundaries and skills regardless of what others deem you as. no one is born a genius, but we all have predispositions that, if applied cultivation, can become fully fledged ‘genius’ level skills. 

i’m gonna put the rest of my responses under a cut because i got extremely deep in the weeds on that one, whoops.

i can totally see why lucas and baekhyun would fall into the same category for you, that's valid. obviously a lot of how effective someone’s stage presence can be is pretty subjective. my standards have a slightly different skew than the average kpop fan, since my life has been working and making performance for over a decade. yes, lucas doesn’t have the same presence as taemin or kai, and yea he's not the best rapper or best vocalist by far, but i think he carries himself extremely well despite that. he's got advantages from the start; he’s the tallest in the group and he’s pretty, but the few times that he is in center i am absolutely paying attention to him. ‘im the other one chilling with them other ones’? no idea what the fuck that means but i absolutely believe him. honestly i can't even remember any other parts of that song. if sm ever decides to give him more parts i think we’ll see a uptick in his skills. he really knows how to work a camera; his expressions and body language are already really strong and he exudes confidence like an overeager puppy.

i think nct’s infinite concept is ridiculous and a bit disrespectful to the original members who’ve done the lion's share of the work building the brand. obviously i understand why sm did it, when you have an established brand that you can keep plugging new members into you essentially never have to take the risks involved with debuting a new group ever again. plus with nct’s whole.....new culture + technology thing, they’re primed for any of the weird awful tech updates that are inevitably coming in the next decade. no shade on the girls in aespa, i just find the idea of debuting a girl group with overly sexualized ai robot versions of themselves into a world where the boundaries between idol and fan are already constantly violated uhhh...........distasteful. to put it mildly. i also think the concept is disrespectful to the new members that constantly get added in; because they get added into a system that has a clear working structure based on those original members, who are going to be in every iteration ever. because they’re the proven selling points. at least when you debut a totally new group you’re giving those idols a clean slate. any of the new nct boys will never really have a chance to truly establish themselves outside of that context. plus they will forever be plagued by exclusionist stans. if you’re lucky and charismatic and pretty like lucas you might get the chance to get beyond that (he made it to superm after all), but for pretty much everyone else? anon you said it not me.

*** i know this is not actually what the mozart fallacy is. hence the wording change. but as far as i'm aware there isn’t actually a name for this phenomenon so i'm calling it like how i heard it first described, which was using mozart as an example.