#evvy speaks

[coyotecall]

i didnt look at this acct for like a week and i have 4 asks hwo is this real

[weenietickler]

My phone asked me to lp ik a Web browser earlier I should've picked you...

what the absolute freak is this new, unknown, unheard of language that my dearest evvy weevil is speaking... 💔

[cartograffiti]

February '24 reading diary

I finished 19 books in February, which sounded like a mistake until I realized I read most of them as audiobooks while doing manual tasks. It's always nice when my ears are on my side (says someone with a hearing disorder).

I like poetry, but I don't read enough to feel knowledgeable about it. I've been trying to read a bit from various countries, and after I enjoyed the Pablo Neruda collection so much in January, I went on to read three other poetry books.

Khalil Gibran's The Prophet is one of those works that I've seen quoted out of context so much that I was shocked to discover I didn't actually know what it's about. It's a series of prose poetry fables with a linking plot in which the titular prophet converses with the people of a city he is departing about different aspects of life. A lot of it is really beautiful and thought-provoking, and I thought it was great. It's become a popular source of quotes for weddings and inspirational goods, but I was surprised and moved to find it's also a text about multi-faith unity; Gibran was Lebanese, and Lebanon had and has striking diversity of religions.

I also really enjoyed The Poetess Counts to 100 and Bows Out, a collection by the important Venezuelan poet Ana Enriqueta Terán. I find her wordplay unusual and her subjects interesting, and even in translation, I found her work to give a powerful sense of humor and hopefulness, and a gift for creating a scene.

I did not enjoy Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey. Kaur is one of the most famous living poets, and I had read so much praise and disdain for her work that I wanted to form my own opinion. There are turns of phrase I really liked, and it is laid out in an interesting way that means some related poems could be read either distinctly or as sections of a longer thought, which I found neat. But I found myself so grumpy the more I read of it that I ended up also reading a lot about Kaur and other people's analysis of her work, trying to contextualize why I bounced so hard off it. Many critics wrote about trying to separate her style from her content, and chose to praise just one or the other, but I am critical of both. Her style lacks personality that would tell me it was her work as opposed to any other poet's, and her content is full of basic, played-out sentiments of popular feminism and bathetic viral posts. Being reminded of "take me to a museum and then make out with me," "but they said not to touch the masterpieces," is not what I'd hoped for out of this. I do think it's a good thing and a strength of Kaur's that she is able to speak to so many people's common experiences through her clarity and intimate tone; it's a shame it didn't click with me. And unlike several professional opinions I read, I think she's completely entitled to write poetry that is not all self-revealing confessional pieces; that should not be something we demand of any art form. But it's a shame some of her verses suggest that certain kinds of shame and violence are a collective and integral part of womanhood and South Asian identity. She's only a little older than I am, and we were both students when she wrote these. I wonder whether her recent work is more sophisticated. I'm not motivated to find out.

The title of the Kaur book reminded me of some enthusiastic praise I'd read for Mary Robinette Kowal's Regency fantasy romance Shades of Milk and Honey, and I found that disappointing, too. I almost liked it; there's some great bits about making art with magic, and it's a good little world. The most interesting character doesn't get enough page time, a lot of secondary characters feel like flat loans from Austen, and the late-book resolution was forced and rushed.

In the Emelan group read, we finished! We read Melting Stones, an Evvy-centered book that I really enjoyed until it became repetitive in the second half, and feel pretty mild about, and The Will of the Empress, reuniting all the original kids as older teens, which I thought was just great. Pierce in top form, and one of the best of this setting.

Lois McMaster Bujold has a new Penric & Desdemona novella out that I haven't been able to borrow yet, but in the meantime I discovered there was one I missed. Penric is a physician mage devoted to an unusual god, which means he's benignly possessed by his demon friend Desdemona, and they have adventures and solve mysteries. This one was Knot of Shadows, about a puzzling corpse and curses. Great fun. Don't start here.

In the land of romance, I've been really enjoying Mimi Matthews's Belles of London series, about a friend group of interesting Victorian horse girls, so I read The Lily of Ludgate Hill as soon as I could. These are no-sex but sexy books with a lot of skill. I've been easily invested in each couple so far, the friends are well integrated into each other's lives even after resolving their own storylines, and their new beaus are introduced smoothly. More than that, there is a lot of consideration for the social issues and new ideas of the period. My favorite is still the first, but Anne and Felix have a strong second chance romance backstory and they're fun to see squabble and cooperate.

More romance: I finished another Gail Carriger novella, this time Defy or Defend. Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott in the Finishing School series was only learning to be a spy because her evil genius parents wanted it. Her actual dream was to marry a nice politician of not too much importance and be a domestic goddess and social power. Now an adult working for the government, her professional partner is also her perfect man, and she hopes he'll admit to mutual feelings while they're on a mission to rescue a vampire hive from dangerous disintegration. It's very much a Cold Comfort Farm or The Grand Sophy plot of a cheerful girl solving everyone's problems, which is perfect for Dimity: I love her and I love this premise. Felix's internal conflict is a bit of a nonentity, but I don't care, he's too busy adoring Dimity and taking the trans vampire to buy new clothes.

And the last romance for the month, The Companion by E.E. Ottoman. An extraordinarily efficient novella about Madeline, a writer whose spirit has been crushed by trying to break into the industry in NYC in the 1940s. A friend arranges for her to go stay with Victor, a successful author lonely in a too-big inherited house upstate. She is quickly attracted to both him and his artist neighbor Audrey, and they adore her. All three are trans, and the core of the plot is Madeline navigating these new relationships while settling into the unfamiliar safety and encouragement offered to her. In Madeline's POV, Ottoman very much treats the poly triangle as two distinct romances and a third observed at a close distance, which means doing about 2.5 times the work of most. I went wild for the execution, which felt like magic. You do have to like reading about people trying to write and cooking, which fortunately I do. Highly recommended.

A very different book about a writer that I was impressed with this month is Malice by Higashino Keigo. In translation, this is the "first" of a longer detective series that I can't remember where I heard about. That was to my advantage, because I wasn't primed for the premise, alternating between the deductions of Detective Kaga and witness statements. It quickly becomes apparent who did it, fitting best into the why-dunnit class, and using my expectations as a mystery fan against me. Higashino does not idly use an author as one of the POV characters; his profession creates a surprise that taught me something about how writing works mechanically. Very cool.

Also a book about books: Sunyi Dean's The Book Eaters. My oldest friend and I both listened to this as the audiobook wonderfully read by Katie Erich, and we both complained that the interview in the bonus material killed a little of the mystery for us. Despite that, we loved the main character, Devon, and it's full of interesting ideas. It's about a group of families who eat information instead of food. It's about...fairy tales and it has a unique form of dragon and vampire myths and a slow-burn escape from Christian cults. It's about figuring out you're gay when you're already a parent. It's weird and fascinating and upsetting. I think Dean made very smart choices about when to reveal information through flashbacks, and I think Dean sometimes over-explains things to the reader in the narration that would have been stronger if I was left to interpret them myself. L and I both think we'd be interested in another Sunyi Dean book, but not a sequel to this one. It is a complete concept.

I feel that way about Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon by Wole Talabi, too. This one is a fantasy heist with lots of backstory starring Shigidi, who is a kind of minor nightmare god, and Nnemoa, who is a kind of succubus. They have gone freelance, breaking from the corporation of Orisha and taking their own jobs through the living and spirit worlds. I particularly like Nnemoa's backstory chapters and the heist, but Aleister Crowley is involved for some reason and much less repulsive than in real life, and I was disappointed the heist is a pretty brief element. I'd like to read another Talabi book, though, and this was the first adult book I've read that features the orishas of the Yoruba religion which have been a welcome part of several recent YA fantasy books.

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water is not the Zen Cho book I thought it was when I checked it out, but I'm glad to have read it. It's a wuxia novella about a nun and some bandits involved in rebellion, told with a lot of humor and thoughtfulness about the role of holy objects through the POV of a trans bandit with his own history with the nun's order. I love Cho's style!

That was a one-sitting project audiobook, as was a full-cast play recording of The Importance of Being Earnest. This is a sensational play that I had put off reading because I thought it had probably been overhyped. It hadn't. This is the source of a lot of Oscar Wilde's best quotes, and it's a jewel of drawing-room comedy and dialogue that operates on multiple levels of significance. I'm glad I happened to listen to actors doing it, which I wasn't expecting when I tapped on the first audiobook that came up.

More old books: I found an Agatha Christie mystery I didn't like! How sad! This was The Big Four, a series of spy short stories starring Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings, compiled together into a loose novel. The effect is somewhat disjointed, and not every story shows her ingenuity. It's full of 20th century political paranoia of conspiracies and spies, with anti-Asian racism and antisemitic tropes I can often count on Christie to avoid or subvert.

And Steppenwolf, by Herman Hesse, which is a very strange and influential work of literary fiction about a man who believes--not to minimize it by putting it this way--that he has a secret wolf-self inside him, much like certain middle schoolers of my acquaintance. The edition I listened to opens with a letter from Hesse in which he remarks that this book is frequently misunderstood, which I will admit put my back up. Maybe there's stuff in your book you didn't intend, Herman! I enjoyed its vagueness, I adored the complexity embodied by Harry Haller's friend/alter-ego/mother/girlfriend/boyfriend Hermine, and I got a lot out of reading literary analysis that gave me better context for the transmigration of souls and Jungian theory. It also suffers from didactic passages, racism and antisemitism, and dogmatism about artistic quality. Very worth reading, difficult to say whether I "liked" the book.

Carrying on with Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond books, I went straight from GK into Queens' Play, which I loved every moment of. It's easier to read than the first book, as she pulled back on stylized spellings and puzzling quotations, without losing any sparkle or punch. It's sooo fun. It's sooo distressing. Spies! Plots! Assassins! Disguises! Escapes! Messy bisexuals! I told my Lymond friends this book was funnier, but that feels like the wrong word for some of the things that happen in it. Giggling and kicking my feet and crying.

And a book I am very solidly neutral on: The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros, full of vibrant personality and a great premise, but the plot gets in its own way in complexity and the pacing was a real struggle for my taste. The core cast is really strongly varied Jewish immigrant characters in Chicago in the 1890s, some teens have been murdered, there's a dybbuk, and gay kissing. I think I would have enjoyed it more when I was a teen; some YA takes me that way.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

You can tell he practised that little introduction on stage

Honestly that was awkward and I cringed haha but he’s so cute 🥹 His stage fright/fear of public speaking always shows right across his face haha I feel so bad! I just know that was a big deal for him being on stage in front of that massive crowd. And it looked like Yvette (the presenter) caught him a little off guard asking him to answer first 🤭

i know, he hates public speaking so much lol hard to believe from such a talented actor, used to being in front of the camera. i totally understand though, public speaking is generally not fun.

we're your support crew evvie

[narrie]

Speaking of Stephen Colbert, are you listening to Strike Force Five? It's the podcast he and the other late night hosts started to raise money for their staff (Seth, the Jimmys and John Oliver). I don't really like Fallon and Kimmel but love the other three, it's pretty funny. On the last episode they played kinda like the newlywed game about each of their wives and there was a question about what annoyed their wives the most about them and Evvie said his snoring, so Stephen told a story about waking up with her petting his hair and for a second thinking that it was so sweet that she was doing it while watching him sleep and then realizing that she was actually waking him up because he was snoring too much. Also apparently John Oliver once checked his wife's stool for blood when they were first dating and that's when she fell in love with him.

bye 😭 me and who<3 JDSGNMDS i saw some clips of it on tiktok but FIVE ppl on a podcast is tew much

[degloved]

📚 + 🌝 + 🌺 mwah

thank you evvy love you <3

📚 how do you come up with the fics you write

it's less that i come up with them and more that they're actively eating away at my brain until i physically can't stand it anymore & put pen to paper. all i do when i'm not 'doing' anything is rotate blorbos in my mind all day, so i never need to sit down and think 'hm what am i gonna write about.' it's already there. this especially goes for pwp

🌝 a show you would recommend to anyone

yellowjackets!! yellowjackets!!! a million times yellowjackets!!!!! hannibal honorable mention

🌺 what is the best gift someone has ever given you and why is it so important

the poems ella wrote about me/us & included in her christmas and birthday cards. maybe it's a biased response but reading them is the most (romantically) loved i've ever felt & probably ever will. all my future potential partners are forever gonna be competing with a dead girl, which is apt because that was one of our longest running jokes generally speaking

[all-bart-and-bite]

Hey! I can speak some French! Bonjour! Je m’appelle Barty! I learned a bit just for you, Evvie darling 😤

Fuck being french, honestly. No one ever understands what I’m saying

[readingcircletemple]

Who is your favorite student from the Circle Opens? Let us know for your chance to win our season 9 sacred reading kit!

[askfem-sanders-sides]

Ima draw a full moth girl Sel bc I toned down her og design quite a bit-

[luvvewan]

promptsssssss!!!

13: “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” 🥺🙏❤️

Thank you for the prompt, @sanerontheinside ! I went full Obi-whump, so I hope you like it.

—

The healer crouched at the edge of the bunk and took Obi-Wan’s bare feet in his hands.

Obi-Wan cried out, trying to pull away from the touch, twisting in the blankets.

“Caht, nah.” The elderly man, Hagit, said softly. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Numo.”

Qui-Gon had garnered only a handful of words in the native tongue, but he didn’t need to know what the healer said; he could see it in his eyes. Pity. For Obi-Wan, yes. But also for him? Fear lodged in his throat.

“Evvi, eh. Uh…here. Boy…numo.” Hagit motioned to Obi-Wan’s foot.

“Keep him still, Master Jedi, please.” Evvi, their young interpreter and Hagit’s grand-niece, translated. “He sees the spine in the left heel.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder and turned away, leaning over his insensate student. Obi-Wan’s face was covered in sweat, eyes half-lidded, lips cracked and quivering. His Learner’s braid had plastered itself to Obi-Wan’s pale neck and chest. Qui-Gon smoothed it carefully between his fingers. “You are doing very well, Padawan. Just stay still. I know it’s difficult but you must not move,” he used a gentle voice better suited for younglings, despite the fact Obi-Wan was twenty three years old and a newly senior apprentice.

He watched Obi-Wan try to look at him, but another wave of pain erupted through their connection in the Force, and his eyes rolled back. Qui-Gon absorbed what he could, wanting to take it all, though even the echoes of Obi-Wan’s agony were enough to make him briefly light-headed.

He noticed Hagit was speaking again, a distant noise. Evvi said something back to him, then Qui-Gon heard several small, hesitant steps. A hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry, Master Jedi. Removal is very painful and delicate. He does not want the spine to break apart while still in the foot. It will release more poison.” Evvi explained. “Can you hold him down?”

Obi-Wan was more powerful than his small frame would suggest. The pain and delirium made him combative, and when Qui-Gon gripped his arms he thrashed and snarled. He had never seen Obi-Wan, obedient and self-possessed Obi-Wan, untethered this way. Fingernails raked down his forearm, tore at his robe sleeves.

Sedation was not possible. The medical supplies were limited anyway. They were lucky to have Hagit, who was old enough to remember when the stone-fish were plentiful, before a plague wiped them out. Now it was exceedingly rare to catch a stone-fish on the shore, due to both its near-extinction and impressive camouflage. Obi-Wan had accompanied some of the village’s children to the water, or really they had accompanied him, starry-eyed at the presence of an offworlder, a Jedi. He had been stepping along a path of craggy rocks leading to the ocean when his foot landed on a stone-fish, its spiny, algae-crusted body hidden amongst the rocks and sand.

The pain had been immediate. The children had run, screaming, for help. By the time Qui-Gon found him, Obi-Wan was screaming too.

Other villagers had come. Among them was Hagit, helped along by Evvi at his elbow, his grey eyes milky and grave. Obi-Wan was administered a general anti-venom there on the beach, already overwhelmed by the agony that radiated from his foot through his entire body.

Evvi had told Qui-Gon the poison was brutal and quick. It was not always fatal, but it triggered something nearly as cruel: most victims were gripped by an unbearable sense of dread, demanding to be killed before the poison could fully take them.

From his admittedly foggy calculations, it had been close to an hour since Obi-Wan was attacked. Qui-Gon’s stomach lurched. He did not look behind him, where he knew Hagit was hovering at the wound site, arthritic hands shaking, preparing to perform a task of great precision.

“Still, Master Jedi. He must be still.”

He brought the Force to bear down on his Padawan while using his own brute strength to pin Obi-Wan’s wrists back onto the bunk. Obi-Wan whimpered and moaned, whipping his head to the side. Tears streamed freely down his face, snot and sweat dripping from his nose.

“Help!” He kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the healer’s grasp.

Hagit made a sharp noise under his breath, likely a swear.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me! We’re trying to help you!” He barked hoarsely, wiping sweat from his own brow before straddling his Padawan and laying over top of him, using his weight to hold him down. Their heads were pressed together and Obi-Wan wept and keened in his ear.

Qui-Gon’s heart found new ways to break. The Force was overrun with panic and hopelessness. Obi-Wan twitched and fought under him, desperate to get freed. Qui-Gon tried to use a sleep suggestion but his Padawan’s aura was clouded, elusive.

And time was draining away. He imagined the spine lodged in Obi-Wan’s tender heel, the poison seeping into his blood and causing more damage. “Just…breathe with me, Padawan, alright? There is no pain, there is the Force.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan whimpered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “Leave it to me, then. Trust in me, young one. Whatever else is happening…it doesn’t matter. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

He knew it was a risk, to appeal to the dutiful instinct in Obi-Wan that very well might be overridden by poison-fueled anxiety. But what else could he do? Hold his delirious student down with every last bit of strength he possessed, and possibly break his bones in the process?

Obi-Wan bucked against him, sniffling and gasping. “It won’t stop it won’t stop oh gods…”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon smoothed his damp hair. “You are so far away from that, aren’t you? Safe with me. Safe and very tired. Only you and only me, far away.”

Nerveless fingers clutched at him. “M-Make it stop make it stop I can’t—“

“Of course I will. Hold onto me and keep your legs very still. You can do that, I know you can. Put your arms around me and hold on, as tight as you can.” Qui-Gon blinked back the sweat pouring into his eyes, body vibrating with hope and dread as Obi-Wan slowly obeyed. “That’s it. Now I want you to keep the rest of your body very, very still, Padawan. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan heaved an exhausted sob, but nodded. His arms gripped around Qui-Gon’s back while his legs gradually relaxed on the bunk.

Hagit murmured to himself. Evvi touched Qui-Gon’s leg.

In the stuffy little room, everyone tacitly understood what would happen next.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begin to tense. “Far away,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We can go anywhere, can’t we? We’ve been to so many places together.”

“Nuh, Evvi.”

“Uncle says now, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and released his fear to the Force. “Where do you want to go, Obi-Wan? I remember you enjoying Alderaan, with all the beautiful trees. The people there were so kind, weren’t they?” He did his best not to think of the fragile procedure happening inches away. His muscles shook, ready to react if necessary. He knew once Hagit began removing the spine it could not be halted. “I can’t remember…did we visit in the summer or winter?”

Obi-Wan was holding onto him for dear life, strangled moans catching in his throat.

My brave boy, Qui-Gon thought to himself. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what it felt like for Obi-Wan.

“Kill me Master Master oh Force I can’t…”

Qui-Gon squeezed him close. He thought of what Evvi had said--the poor victims who begged for death. He had not thought Obi-Wan would reach that point. But even the Force could not insulate the young man from such all-encompassing agony.

Obi-Wan wept openly against Qui-Gon’s neck. “Master, Qui-Gon...it’s moving..what….what is it doing..?”

“Don’t move,” Qui-Gon warned. “Do you want to go to Alderaan? Or someplace else? Someplace warm?”

They had just finished an extended mission on a frigid planet, yet Obi-Wan shook his head. “N-No deserts.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan sunburned easily, returning from desert assignments with pink cheeks and ears. “Of course not. No, someplace cool enough to sleep out under the stars. Kodasta, perhaps? Remember how the stars seemed so close, as if we could nearly touch them?”

Obi-Wan clutched at the robe on Qui-Gon’s back. “Y-Yes…ahhh…”

“What was the constellation you saw? I can’t remember. It was quite rare, wasn’t it? I’m never any good at that but you spotted it right away. What was it called?”

“…Th-The El…usive Mage.”

“Oh yes. That was it.”

Obi-Wan moaned into Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him steady. The pain was beyond excruciating and Qui-Gon could only feel the edge of it; Obi-Wan had long since given up any attempts at shielding from him. It was a testament to Obi-Wan’s endurance that he had not passed out.

“Nearly done,” Evvi said.

Thank the Force. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon praised him quietly. “Keep right here with me, can you see the Mage? Close your eyes and see if it’s there.”

“M-Master…”

“I know. But we are so far away from that, aren’t we? Among the stars on Kodasta. I see them when I close my eyes. Close your eyes and you’ll see them too. No, no, you can’t twitch like that. Squeeze me instead. That’s better. Now look for the Mage with me. Help me see it.”

“Ugh…” Obi-Wan groaned and panted. “Mmmmph…”

Qui-Gon could not let their progress unravel, not now. “Is it there, towards the left?”

For several strained seconds, Obi-Wan made harsh, pained sounds and struggled for breath. Then, finally: “Y-Yes. You have to…un…ah…unfocus your eyes to see. Look for the hat f-first.”

Qui-Gon smiled, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ah, of course.”

“It’s out, Master Jedi.”

“I see it now, Obi-Wan. It’s beautiful.”

His Padawan sagged under him, unconscious.

—

Qui-Gon went to the shore and walked along the rock paths, fingers hooked in his belt. The stone-fish had been immediately killed, its remaining spines safely collected and the rest of it burned by a few of the villagers. Evvi told him some of the men searched the beach until dawn, out of caution.

They had not come across a single other stone-fish. Obi-Wan’s foot had apparently found the only specimen on the entire beach.

But then, Obi-Wan had always been blessed with a particular sort of luck.

He came to the place where Obi-Wan was stung. Specks of blood stained the rocks there. His instinct was to throw them into the ocean.

Instead, Qui-Gon left everything as it was, sea spray misting his cheeks as he turned back towards the village.

—

When he returned to the little cottage, Hagit was sitting at a sun-bleached wooden table in the kitchen. The red-tinged spine, still full of venom, was sealed in a plastibag and held loosely in his liver-spotted hands.

Hagit looked up at Qui-Gon. He was quite old, skin sagging and eyes permanently wet.

“Boy…yes.” Hagit nodded firmly at him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to swallow. He bowed before the healer. “Graz-ta,” he said. Thank you.

—

Obi-Wan was curled up on the bunk. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, his bandaged foot sticking out from the bottom. Though he had improved since the day before, his face still looked drained of its color.

Qui-Gon glanced around the quiet, dark room. He noticed Obi-Wan’s clothes and boots tucked under a chair. Evvi had done it, probably, but it was still a familiar sight, reminding him of how Obi-Wan tended to neatly fold his tunics, no matter where they found themselves. His heart tightened; he let it pass. He knew he would feel this way after such a close call. Small, tender things about Obi-Wan were going to strike him at odd times—he knew that, unfortunately, from experience.

Like the way he would hold his braid between his fingers when he slept. Qui-Gon could not recall Feemor or Xanatos ever doing that.

He sat on the bunk beside Obi-Wan and listened to the quaint sounds of life beyond the door. He appreciated the borrowed sense of domesticity that came with staying in family houses: home cooking, careworn sheets, a calmness and mildness in the Force. He wished they could stay here until Obi-Wan fully recovered from his ordeal, but the Council had already sent them their next assignment.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against Obi-Wan’s forehead. Glassy grey eyes fluttered open.

“Only a slight fever now,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan kept his braid laced between his fingers. He looked swallowed up by the thick weave of the blanket and the night shirt that was several sizes too big. Or was it simply the absence of Jedi trappings that made it more obvious that he was young, human and fragile? “Well,” he croaked, voice ruined from prolonged screaming followed by prolonged silence, “I didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He touched Obi-Wan’s cheek. “No. You seem very much alive to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes already drifting closed. “I didn’t sense it. The…ah…thing.”

“Neither did I,” Qui-Gon admitted, gazing out the window above Obi-Wan’s head. The villagers had searched the beach, but who could search all of the sea? He began to think of other dangers on other worlds, the unnamed masses of threats that awaited Obi-Wan in his life, on their next mission, even tomorrow. “If we could sense everything, our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmhmmm. Less interesting?”

“I’m slipping. You’re guessing my lessons before I can give them.”

“Mm, but I can…always sense you, Master.” Obi-Wan mumbled. He would be asleep soon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “May the Force be with you, my Padawan.”

—

They rarely dreamed together, but that night they did, climbing through constellations in the dark sky, safely above the sea.

[melonymint753]

ok can we talk about Tamora Pierce's... take on not!China:

Yanjing is an old word for Beijing, so it looked like she was seriously going for a Very Chinese vibe, but then Evvy's name (Evumeimei) is all over the place. "vu" isn't a pinyin syllable, and "e" in pinyin sounds like "uh" with less h, so phonetically it's not getting shortened to Evvy, where the E is implied as a "eh" sound. Also very few words start with E so it's even more ???

And then her "first name" is 4 syllables long and last name is 2: 4 is Way too long for a Chinese first name (1-2 is the norm, 3 is very Very fancy, I've seen it once in my whole life, on a Very flamboyant guy, so it checks out). I don't know about ethnic minorities, but ones I've seen all have 4 characters max. 4 characters for their full name, that is.

And Evvy really isn't minority-coded, since her last name (Dingzai) is also Very Pinyin. Speaking of that, Chinese last names with 2 characters is pretty rare (vast majority have 1), and hers is not one that I've seen. And Chinese names are said family name first, but ok fine Evvy is a runaway, so she learned to say her name the White Way TM, whatever. I mean, Ding is a perfectly extant family name, and Pierce could have just, done that? Instead of over-exotifying Evvy's name?

anyway TLDR, idk what Tamora Pierce was trying with Evvy, bc she seemed to want an accurate China in her worldbldg, but gave the Chinese-coded character a half-nonsensical name, which bothers me bc I can't imagine which characters to actually use (丁载 伊？美美)?? And I think it's a problem when a native Chinese speaker can't figure out how to fit characters to your made up Chinese-coded name?

like quick fixes:

丁艾美 (Ding Aimei, bc "eh" doesnt exist in Chinese)

丁依美/丁伊美 (Ding Yimei)

or even 丁美美 (Ding Meimei) - a little stereotypical, in a sense that it's not fancy, but def works. Like Mary or Beth in English. Maybe.

If you Really want that 复姓 (2-character last name) fancy vibe, sure, add that Zai back. Or better still, give her an existing one.

Oh and most cases here, I think her shortened nickname would be Meimei, bc nicknames tend to be built on the last character in the name.

Whoops, still ranted, oh well.

[artsy-moonwalker]

Would you go into more details about your OC’s backstories?? They all look so cool 😆

I would love to! Thank you so much for this question :)

I'm going to focus distinctly on their childhood for these descriptions.

(mentions of drug addiciton, war, and violence)

Before I get into their backstories, it is important to address their environmental situation for context.

In their childhood, there was a civil war going on within America. This is a fictional war, of course, taking place in the early 2000s. Lenis, Everest, Flint, and Darryon all have their parts to play, and the war affects the four in different ways. While Lenis, Everest, and Flint are trying to escape war from their hometown and cross the country, Darryon and his siblings are attending shelters and risk their lives trying to help in any way they can.

So now that we have some context of their biggest childhood dilemma, let's get into the four individually. I won't go into complete detail to avoid any spoilers I'd like to share later on, but I will dive into their personalities and importance. I don't know how long this post will be, but I'll try to keep it as short as I can.

Lenis, 13 years old - tall, blond, a bit tan, a distinct scar on his left jaw, brown eyes

Lenis lives in a small town in Ohio. It's a bit run down, and his house is in bad shape. Considering his family is lower class, he doesn't have much money to spend, and he gets by with what he has. He lives with his two strict parents, him being an only child. But he takes care of a stray cat that lives in a forest behind his home that he calls "Otter." Whenever he tries to get the cat to stay in the house, his parents don't allow it. They can't exactly afford to take care of an animal, especially when they have to pay for his monthly medication and doctor visits.

He has a bone condition where his bones are incredibly fragile. He can't walk for very long, and running is even worse on him. It doesn't take a lot of force to break a bone either, and he's had to visit the doctor numerous times for fractures and snaps. So he has a medication that helps him not feel the aching as much, and allows him to walk or run for a time. He is in no way a strong person. His physical strength is constantly challenged and he feels like a burden to those he loves whenever they have to make sacrifices to just to help him. Especially when it comes to his best friend, Everest.

He is always being protected by Everest. He's taken multiple punches for him, he has to carry him sometimes, he can't do a lot of outdoor activities with him due to how easy it is to get injured. Lenis hates this. He hates being held back and he hates that his best friend has to be held back too because of it. He often tells Everest that he can do things himself, but that ends with him getting hurt more than not.

Lenis really is a grateful and humble soul. He tries to find the good in every situation no matter how painful it can be. This is especially apparent for his friends. If anything is troubling them, he will do what he can to get them through it. His optimism was a lot more prominent when he was a child, though. After escaping war, he finds it difficult to find the good in bad situations. But that doesn't mean he won't try to. It's safe to say the light in his eyes are faded as he grew older.

Everest, 13 years old - short, red head, blue eyes

This is Lenis' best friend, that's how everyone at his school titles him. Because he is constantly by his side more than he is alone. He knew Lenis since he was a toddler due to their mothers being friends, and ever since then, Lenis would nickname him "Evvy." Everest was always like a brother to him. He was incredibly protective and would often put Lenis before him.

Emotions and Everest don't exactly work well together. He tends to be reserved. Cold and bitter, even. If he's showing any extreme emotion, it tends to be anger or frustration. But he has a soft spot for Lenis. He's really one of the only people around him that can make him smile. Other than his mom, of course, who he lives with down the street from Lenis. His mother was pregnant before he left home; his father having left after a short and abrupt divorce. Little information was given to him about why that occurred. But his mom was happier, and that's what he wanted. He was never close with his father anyway.

Everest knows that his protectiveness over his friends, especially Lenis, can be a fault at times. He's gotten hurt many times due to it, both mentally and physically. And it isn't even because his friends are defenseless. He knows they can protect themselves if they need to, but he cannot help himself. He can't let them get hurt if he can stop it. He speaks bluntly, and his words may go over a few lines, or he may be prone to starting arguments, but he is incredibly selfless. He means well in every action he takes despite all of that.

Flint, 12 years old - short, black buzz cut, large dark eyes

Flint is a troubled child to say the least. He's callous towards others, he seems to only care about himself, and he isn't afraid to use force and threaten violence. He was Lenis' biggest bully after ending his friendship with him in a desperate fit to steal his pain medicine. Yes, Lenis and him were friends before that. And Flint truly wanted to continue the friendship, but he needed those pills. Lenis wasn't going to just give them to him. So he had to resort to violence, thus harming Lenis, and regretting it later.

It's easy to think that maybe Flint had a drug addiction, and stole Lenis' pills because of that. But that isn't the case at all. It wasn't because of an addiction, it was for a much deeper reason.

His younger sister, Penny, was facing a horrible sickness that was going to kill her if she didn't get the right treatments. His mother, being constantly intoxicated with alcohol, spent all of her money on things she didn't need. So she couldn't afford Penny to have any treatment at all. Flint, who has been basically raising his little sister, decided to take matters into his own hands, and find any possible way to make her feel better. Even if it meant harming Lenis for some pills.

Flint loves his sister more than anyone. Or loved, at least. She unfortunately didn't make it long after the pain medicine incident.

He wants to be good, he really does. But Flint is difficult to get along with. Especially with Everest. Much like the red head, Flint has a short temper, and they always fight with each other. But also like Everest, he has a soft spot for Lenis (he is sort of like the peacemaker of the group). Flint is incredibly emotional, and he always says what's on his mind, even if they're not so nice things. He feels regretful for a lot of things, though. He's trying to be a better person, and befriending Lenis again is something he is determined to do.

Darryon, 12 years old - Average height, black curly hair, dark eyes, has an intense burn scar along his face

Darryon lives in California with his siblings, and only his siblings. His parents died in a car crash while they were on their way home from a relative's house. The war was breaking out, and they were caught up in it at the worst possible time. Darryon's oldest brother was a soldier in the war, and his oldest sister was her younger siblings' guardian while he was gone. He has five siblings, not counting himself. Three girls and two boys. And he is very close with each of them, especially his oldest sister, Carlitha. She followed shelters, and he did the same. For a long time, she was concerned for his wellbeing considering just how dangerous a job like this was. They were always venturing in war zones and had to face many hardships. But even at a young age, Darryon wanted to be part of something bigger than himself. His parents' death were a big motivator in his efforts, and he found that helping others get through the war was an effective coping mechanism.

He didn't go through these hardships without consequences, though. On one occasion, a shelter he was attending got bombed, and he was caught in the flames, leaving the brutal burn marks you see on him now. These marks filled the mouths of the other kids at his school when he tried going back. But how can anyone go back to a normal life after that? Luckily he had a good group of friends to back him up during his good and hard nights.

He has a very distinct sense of humor, and finds it easy to entertain himself when no one is around. Some of the kids at his school think he's weird because of his behavior at times. He talks to himself out loud, he has a funny laugh, he has a few imaginary friends (one stays with him even in his adulthood), etc. But he embraces those things more than anything, and his friends don't care, so why should he?

When he isn't helping at a shelter, he finds time for himself or his family. For example, he's very fascinated with nature, and enjoys drawing what he sees around him in a sketchbook. He's pretty good at it too. What started as drawings of birds or gardens soon turned into drawings of burnt landscapes and debris of towns. He liked to draw the people he would meet in shelters as well, and he kept every drawing, not knowing if that person survived after they parted ways or not.

Darryon's story does collide with the others at some point. He and his sister go to great lengths around the country, of course they're going to befriend Lenis, Everest, and Flint at some point, and it will certainly stay that way.

If you read this far, thank you! I really hope this little introduction to them has intrigued you, and if not, that's okay too :) I want to share more about them later on, and I plan to write out chapters to get the full story soon as well. I've been working on this story for more than a year now in private, and I'm really having fun, so I'm excited to share it with you. Thank you again!

[pixieungerstories]

The Captive - 3

Of course he didn’t think she was a virgin! Humans usually get married before they finished growing.  Well, they used to anyway.  George wasn’t good at guessing humans ages.  They were small for a short time, then they were full sized for a longer time, then they were dead forever.

But this one, seemed like she was old enough to have married, had a couple of children and still had time to lose her family in some plague or another.  Humans were always dying like that.  Plagues, famines, it was more trouble than it was worth keeping them alive.  Most of the time.

He had honestly thought of them as handy snacks for the longest time.

Or pets.

Well, not exactly pets.

Then black powder had turned up and suddenly the world was a lot more complicated.

When the arrangement had first been put into place, George had an entire monastery of nuns to attend to him. 

That had been good times.

Until he realized the women didn’t want to be there.

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t any fun at all.

He might not ever have found out, except that he had met a woman who did want to be there.

His tail lashed in anger.  Centuries of women, being sent to him.  Then Silene came and taught him how to speak human language.  She had loved him.  And when she had died, he had been beside himself with grief.

Then her niece had come.  Or great niece or something.  The woman had come and they had lived together.  They had grown fond of each other.  Then she was old and he was taking care of her.  One day she was gone.  He had returned her body to her family, as requested.  He had left with a cousin of some sort.

Eventually, he had surrendered part of his hoard and purchased the land.  That was when things had become official with this particular family.  He always had a companion.  Some were better than others.  

His last treasure - what was her name? - had been more interested in running some sort of shop over his head than in actually keeping him company.  He didn’t approve but he had allowed it.  Now this last one…  He didn’t know what to make of her.  She was moody.  Some days she would come down here and read to him for hours.  Other days she would sulk or rage against him.  She was right though.  He should try to remember her name.

Ellen?  Helen?  Something.  Damn it.

Elly!

Maybe?

George sighed.  Whatever her name was, she kept accusing him of eating her cat.  That was ridiculous.  He wasn’t interested in anything smaller than a sheep.  She was at more risk from him than some stupid cat.  He didn’t like cats.  They tended to spit at him.

Maybe if her got her a new one, she would get over that?   How hard would it be to find a cat?  They used to be like vermin around here.   Maybe he should let her keep the boy as a pet.  It wouldn’t be the first time he had allowed that.  Usually he waited until he knew the woman first.

He needed a few things for his lair.  Humans were pathetic and fragile.  They had almost no night vision and certainly couldn’t see colour in the dark.  They were entirely too sensitive to cold.  He had a cast iron wood stove around here somewhere.  It would need to be cleaned, but he generally found that carefully heating it until it was glowing white generally did the trick.  It had worked on the wrought iron bedstead … sort of.  The spring base for the mattress had melted.

He carefully dismantled it and dragged it down his tunnel and away from the house.  No hot fires under the structure.  He had learned his lesson last time.  Ann hadn’t let him live that down.

He missed Ann.  The one who had come to replace her hadn’t been that friendly.  He had been hoping this one would be better. 

Elsie?

His treasure.  He had bought her with gold before she was even born.  Priceless.  His.

His…. Evvie?  Did it even start with an E?

She was right.  He was going to have to try harder.

When he got back to his lair, he could smell her.  She had been here recently.  She had been afraid.  Was something wrong, or was this the usual humans always stank of fear?

Not her, though.  Not Effie.  She was just angry all the time.  Or at least all the time she was with him.  He should really do something about that.

He slithered up the steps and tried the door knob.  He was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked.   It was easy to follow her scent trail through the shop, past the pile of raw fleeces in the corner that smelled slightly of pasture and slightly like lunch.  The stairs up were wider than the ones to the basement.  There was a whole house up here!  He had never been to the second level before.  One guest room that smelled like dust.  One office was full of boxes that smelled like old books, and the last door to the corner room was her bedroom.

It also wasn’t locked.

He barely had the door open when she announced, “Na dean fochmoid fáinn!”

That made him pause.  “I would never!”

“George?  Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Why are you cursing in Celt?”

The woman sat up in bed and turned on a small electric light on a little table.  Humans liked little tables.  George was not overly fond of the fake light she was always using.  “I asked you first,” she challenged.

“That is true,” he conceded.  “You were in my lair when I was not near the stairs.  I was uncertain what you needed there.”

She sagged, “I forgot your dinner.  I was going to ask if you needed anything.”

George considered this.  She had come to offer him food, then got frightened and ran away.  Interesting.  “Why were you shouting in Celtic?”

“Gaelic,” she countered.  “I don’t speak much, but I found a book of… well… legends and that was something to keep evil spirits away.”

“Do you know what it means?” he asked patiently.

“Um… leave me alone or something?” she suggested tentatively.

George considered that, “Nearly.  It doesn’t work on me.  You should be careful about using words of power that you don’t understand.”

“Do you need me to find you something to eat?”

He considered this.  She was trying to change the subject.  “You are not happy here.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she snarled.

George blinked.  “What do you need to be happy?”

If anything she frowned harder.  “What do you mean?”

George sighed and squeezed a bit more of himself into her room so he could curl around himself.  “We are both going to be here for the rest of our lives.  If I can help make you happier, then maybe…”  he trailed off.  She was watching him carefully, trying to puzzle out his expression.  Good luck with that, he thought, you are only good at reading monkey faces.  “You need to sleep more, don’t you?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know if I will get to though.  Ben will be here in a couple of hours.”

George just kept watching her.  “Think about what makes you happy and let me know.  Is there any part of that life you gave up that you could get back?”

She shook her head sadly, “I was almost a librarian.  I spent a lot of time and money attending university for that.  Now I sell fancy ass string.”

George crept forward and put his head on the bed next to her.  “Would you be happier selling books instead?”  Treasure just stared at him.  “I was surprised when you added the bakery.  But that has done well.  Would people who eat…. Fancy ass bread also buy books?”

She shook her head, “No one buys books anymore.”

Suddenly he understood and it made his eyes light up.  “You hoard books.”

“No!  I don’t!  I mean, I collect a few, but that isn’t the same as hoarding.”

He smirked not believing it for a second.  “Sell the wool, use the money to buy books, be happy.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

George awkwardly shook his head, being careful not to bump her.  “You are selling the wool to buy more wool to sell.  Sell the wool and buy books to sell.”

The treasure snorted, “My mom said that.  I’ll think about it.”  After a moment she added, “George?  I don’t like that you came into my room.”

He nodded, but made no move to leave.  He waited until she shifted uncomfortably and was about to speak before he replied, “You are not comfortable in my lair.  You are here to keep me company.  So, I came to your lair to join you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

He shrugged, though his shoulders didn’t really work like that.  “I get lonely.  You were right. You are the only person I talk to.”

She swallowed, “We will have to figure something out.”

George grinned.  He stopped when she looked nervously at his teeth.  Then he backed out of the room.  There wasn’t enough space on the landing to turn around without bumping into something.  He figured it out, but it wasn’t graceful.

He was most of the way back to his lair when he realized he hadn’t asked her name.  He would just have to listen carefully through the floorboards and pick it up when someone else said it.

[snoopysfriendwoodstock]

book recs based off of taylor swift songs!

so, we all want taylor to share her reading recs with us but she still hasn’t! so instead, here are book recommendations based on taylor swift songs! these recommendations are based on both the content of the songs, the vibe of the songs, and the themes present!

goodreads pages for each book are linked for more about them!

A Place in this World - coming of age novels

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo (YA novel told in verse)

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (classic)

A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi (YA realistic fiction)

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth  (YA realistic fiction / tw: conversion therapy, religious abuse, homophobia)

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson (children’s/middle grade poetry)

The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf by Mohja Kahf (adult realistic fiction / tw: islamophobia, racist hate crime)

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (classic)

there are a lot here, so the rest are under a read more!

ME! - memoirs and autobiographies that are one of a kind

Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls by T Kira Madden (tw: substance abuse)

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls (tw: abuse)

Little Weirds by Jenny Slate

Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer by Chely Wright

Know My Name by Chanel Miller (tw: sexual assault)

Accidental Saints by Nadia Bolz-Weber

My Soul Looks Back by Jessica B. Harris

The Lucky One - novels about the perils of fame 

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Tara Jenkins Reid (adult historical fiction)

Daisy Jones and the Six by Tara Jenkins Reid (adult historical fiction / tw: substance abuse)

City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert (adult historical fiction)

Fame Adjacent by Sarah Skilton (adult contemporary)

Girl in a Band by Kim Gordon (nonfiction/memoir)

Famous in a Small Town by Emma Mills (YA romance)

Fake Plastic Girl by Zara Lisbon (YA mystery)

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - novels about perceived friends with who turn out to be lovers OR who spend the novel with homoerotic tension

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein (YA historical fiction)

Emma by Jane Austen (classic)

Dare Me by Megan Abbott (YA/adult thriller)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (YA realistic fiction)

Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden (YA romance)

Only The Young - novels about young people making major change/experiencing societal upheaval

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (YA realistic fiction / tw: police brutality, murder, racism)

Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party by Ying Chang Compestine (middle grade/YA historical fiction)

Ghost Boys by Jewell Parker Rhodes (middle grade historical fiction/fantasy / tw: police brutality against a black child, depiction of emmett till)

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith (YA dystopian)

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline (YA dystopian / tw: depiction of genocide against native americans)

The Chaos Walking Trilogy by Patrick Ness (YA science fiction)

The Best Day - songs about mother/daughter relationships (both meaningful and difficult)

Are You My Mother? by Alison Bechdel (adult graphic novel)

Restless by William Boyd (adult spy novel)

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (adult realistic fiction)

The Mother-Daughter Book Club by Heather Vogel Frederick (middle grade contemporary)

Love Story - a reimagining of a classic story

Pride by Ibi Zoboi (YA contemporary / reimagining of Pride and Prejudice)

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer (YA science fiction / reimagining of Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, and Snow White)

Ayesha At Last by Uzma Jalauddin (adult contemporary / reimagining of Pride and Prejudice)

Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie (adult contemporary / reimagining of Antigone, tw: islamophobia, depiction of torture)

You Need to Calm Down - these are just a variety of books strictly abt LGBT characters not just a gay side character <3

Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins (YA romance)

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (YA romance)

Charity & Sylvia by Rachel Hope Cleves (nonfiction)

The 57 Bus by Dashka Slater (YA nonfiction / tw: transphobia, transphobic hate crime, misgendering)

Autoboyography by Christina Lauren (YA contemporary)

Treacherous - a love that teeters between labels for too long as neither can resist the pull of the other

Passenger by Alexandra Bracken (YA science fiction)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (classic)

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (classic)

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi (YA romance)

Don’t Blame Me - an all-encompassing, maddening love

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (classic)

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (classic)

The Way I Loved You - love stories about people who are always attracted to the more dangerous option, even when they’re safe where they are

Anna K: A Love Story by Jenny Lee (YA romance)

Playing With Matches by Hannah Orenstein (adult romance)

My Life Next Door by Huntley Fitzpatrick (YA romance)

Heartless by Marissa Meyer (YA fantasy / retelling of Alice in Wonderland from the Queen of Heart’s perspective)

The Awakening by Kate Chopin (classic)

Speak Now - weddings/wedding related activities gone wrong!

Save the Date by Morgan Matson (YA romance)

The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren (adult romance)

In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware (adult thriller)

Look What You Made Me Do - women getting their revenge, whether it’s justified or not

Sadie by Courtney Summers (YA thriller / tw: physical and sexual abuse, pedophilia, murder, substance abuse)

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (adult thriller / tw: sexual/physical abuse, murder, suicide mentions)

Find Her by Lisa Gardner (adult thriller / tw: physical abuse, kidnapping, rape, murder, graphic depictions of violence)

I’m Only Me When I’m With You - books with a strong focus on platonic relationships, how they grow and change

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (classic)

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty (adult thriller / tw: physical abuse)

This One Summer by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki (YA graphic novel)

Monday’s Not Coming by Tiffany D. Jackson (YA mystery)

Sula by Toni Morrison (classic / tw: racism, rape mention, physical abuse, sexism)

A Separate Peace by John Knowles (classic)

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid (adult contemporary / tw: racism)

Haunted - novels about feelings of loss combined with supernatural elements

Beloved by Toni Morrison (classic / tw: depictions of slavery, rape, sexual abuse, physical assault, racism, racist language)

Leaving Time by Jodi Picoult (adult mystery)

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand (YA fantasy/horror)

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness (middle grade fantasy illustrated novel)

You Belong With Me - young adult novels with a LOT of pining

When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon (YA romance)

Since You’ve Been Gone by Morgan Matson (YA romance)

First & Then by Emma Mills (YA romance)

Tweet Cute by Emma Lord (YA romance)

Begin Again - novels about people getting another chance at love

Beach Read by Emily Henry (adult romance)

Evvie Drake Starts Over by Linda Holmes (adult romance)

Second Chance Summer by Morgan Matson (YA romance)

Persuasion by Jane Austen (classic)

The Two Lives of Lydia Bird by Josie Silver (adult romance)

Enchanted -  love at first sight OR meet cutes!

Meet Cute by Various Authors (collection of YA short stories)

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith (YA romance)

The Unexpected Everything by Morgan Matson (YA romance)

What If It’s Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera (YA romance)

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera (YA romance)

Lovely War by Julie Berry (YA historical fiction / tw: racism)

Long Live - fighting monsters, both literal and figurative 

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi (YA fantasy / tw: sexual abuse)

A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney (YA fantasy / reimagining of Alice in Wonderland)

When You See Me by Lisa Gardner (adult thriller / tw: sexual abuse, physical abuse, rape, murder, kidnapping)

[fusion-ego]

5 and 1 with Ash and Evvy

(Psst, prompts are from this Two-Part Drabble Game)

Situation #5: Home after the hospital

Sentences #1: "You didn't have to scare me like that."

------

Ash is still shaking a little bit when she gets Evan to sit down on the couch. Her eyes keep catching on the admission bracelet peeking from beneath his long sleeves, and her breath catches in her lungs all over again.

The silence between them is oppressive ―‌ a far cry from the usual comfortable quiet. She wants to say something, but she's not sure what there is to say. Evan doesn't meet her eyes as she watches his face.

He settles in with a minor wince, breath hardly catching at the pain.

She wonders, maybe for the first time, she isn't sure if it is, how much pain he's gone through in his life that he can shrug this off without so much as a hiss or squeezing his eyes shut. That he can sit down anywhere, lean against anything, with three broken ribs and not even whimper.

She's been through plenty herself, but she still has to grit her teeth through every injury worse than a papercut ―‌ forget broken ribs, she'd cry if she so much as bruised one too badly.

But Evan hadn't really even batted an eyelash at it, not even when he was told there was not one broken rib, but three of them. He hadn't seemed surprised, or bothered.

She knows Lochy can heal him when she gets home from work if he wants her to. She knows he'll be okay in the end.

But she's scared.

She's not even sure what the exact reasons are at this point.

She's scared because he got hurt, she knows that. She's scared because he's hardly even reacting to something that would probably be debilitating to anyone else. But there's so much else and she can't parse any of it out.

What comes out of her mouth after several moments of thick, suffocating silence is, "You didn't have to scare me like that."

She regrets it immediately, because after everything today that's what makes Evan flinch like he's been struck.

She shouldn't have said it anyway ―‌ shouldn't guilt him for something that isn't his fault. She wants to apologize.

She's hardly opened her mouth to do so when Evan says, small and still not meeting her eyes, "I'm sorry."

"No," She says, too forcefully, and both of them flinch. She tries again, gentler but no less earnest, "No, no, Evvy baby, don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I just ―‌ you scared me. You're hurt and that's... You never get hurt."

Evan doesn't reply.

He sits there and worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to the carpet somewhere far off to her right. She swallows and she watches him and she bites her own lip.

"Does it hurt?" She finally asks.

"No worse than the first time did," He says, a little absently, and she gasps just before his eyes go wide and he clamps his mouth shut and flinches.

"The first time?" She asks, horrified.

She didn't know he'd had broken ribs before. It had to have happened before they ran away together, or she would have known. It had to have happened while he lived with his dad.

The fear drains out of her all at once, replaced with a seething protective rage she imagines isn't unlike how he feels whenever she's threatened or hurt.

As if what she already knew about that piece of human garbage had done hadn't made her hate him enough, the very idea of him actually physically hurting Evan makes her want to track him down and personally put him through something so much worse. But she grits her teeth and takes a slow breath and tells herself, not now.

There's a time and a place for full-blown homicidal rage.

"Evvy," She says, when he doesn't answer for a long moment, "When was the first time?"

She can tell he doesn't want to talk about it ―‌ if he doesn't say anything, she'll drop it. But she needs to know. She needs to.

Evan takes a breath, stunted and short, and he flinches just a little bit. She flinches in response. She hates seeing him in pain.

He shrugs, finally, and says, "I was fourteen."

She sees red and has to clench her fists and dig her nails into her palms to keep from doing anything. She takes a few deep breaths and swallows. Keep calm. Keep control.

After a moment, while she's still trying to calm herself down so she doesn't do anything stupid and scare him, he adds, "I guess I forgot I never told you."

Which is Evan-speak for "the experience was deeply traumatic and I've been keeping it locked up in the back of my head this whole time".

"It's okay," She tells him, as gently as she can, "You don't have to talk about it."

He seems to relax a little, closing his eyes. "Okay."

She takes another breath. She sits down next to him. She lays a hand on his thigh and he covers her hand with his own almost immediately. They twine their fingers together.

She'll figure something out for the bastard who broke his ribs this time later. And she'll try to put wondering what happened the first time as far out of her mind as possible.

"Do you want me to get you some pain meds?"

They didn't get the ones he was prescribed ―‌ they both knew the likelihood they'd be used was low. But they have some left over from the last time one of them went in with a bad enough injury to warrant a hospital visit.

"No," He says, like it's obvious.

Coming from Evan, she guesses it probably is a given that he wouldn't want any. He hates taking pain medication.

"Okay," She says, "Lochy should be home soon."

He hums.

They sit in silence.

[captainderyn]

City Lights [Commission]

The full version of a Ien/Evvie commission for @berriku. Thank you so much for your patience and for giving me the pleasure of working with our babs! 

--

City lights were just beginning to flicker on when Ien put the final flourishing on a job transaction. Between the sweeping skyscrapers the sun was hovering just above the horizon, refusing to give way to night just yet. The sun’s lingering rays painted gold, orange and purple into the encroaching inky night and stars were just beginning to wink into view at the darkest edges. 

It was a short walk back to his home away from home, nothing more than a little jaunt from downtown to the row of businesses that had cropped up around the spaceports’ hangars. 

Ien fumbled with the keycard to get into his apartment. Well, the apartment that he and Evvie were renting for the duration of their stay, while the mechanics worked on the fine tunings Ien or Evvie themselves couldn’t do on the Scarlet Ibis and while they completed their series of job planetside. The door unlocked with a click and with a grateful sigh that he had grabbed the right keycard, Ien slipped through the door before it had fully opened and brushed it close with a sweep of his hand. 

The apartment itself wasn’t large, really just a bed, bath, and shared kitchen-living area, but at a first glance he didn’t see Evvie. Shucking off of his jacket, he slung it over the back of a chair and toed off his shoes in the process. 

“Evvie?” he called, wandering deeper into their home-away-from-home. A flutter of movement caught his eye from the outside balcony and he paused, backtracking a step. A hum of interest escaped him--he’d found Evvie. His wife was languidly sprawled across the chase lounge, two half-full glasses of wine held in either hand.

She grinned when he slid open the glass paneled door, leaning against the frame so that he was half outside, half inside. His eyes must have widened because a sultry laugh followed her smile. “Hello, my love.” 

Ien let his eyes wander over her, over the black dress she wore, so unlike her usual go-to outfits. He was so used to seeing her in bright pops of color, vibrant hues that accented her radiant personality, that seeing her in the dark fabric was a well-received shock. It hugged her waist with a thin black belt, falling away from her legs in a wide slit at the top of her thigh. The neckline plunged deep between her breasts.. She looked stunning and elegant and utterly divine against the backdrop of the sunset. 

“Oh,” he purred. “Hello to you.” 

Her eyes followed him as he walked over, bending over to press a kiss to her lips. He felt her smile against the kiss and he tilted his head, deepening it for a moment. They were so busy lately between doubly up on jobs that lounging around in more than hoodies and sweatpants had been a luxury far out of reach. 

“Ien,” Evvie murmured against his mouth, amusement lacing through the syllable of his name. “I can feel your hands.” 

Chastised only slightly, Ien paused the wandering of his hands up and down her bared legs. “Mhm, and?” 

“And,” she said lightly, pulling back so that her lips were just barely brushing across his. “My hands are full, so that’s hardly fair.” 

Tilting his head up, Ien brushed a kiss along the tattoos following the curve of her cheekbone. She turned her cheek, baring her cheek and jaw better to him. Not one to scorn an invitation, Ien peppered light kisses along her jawline. Traces of her dark lipstick stayed on her skin in wake of his kisses and he chuckled softly. 

“What?” Evvie asked, squirming back so she could look at him. She was remarkably talented at balancing the glasses in her hand, perhaps out of stubborn willpower now. Her brows were drawn low and together, suspicious curiosity written all across her expression. 

Still chuckling, Ien pressed another kiss to her cheek before standing back up. Evvie held up her legs, motioning for Ien to sit and offering him a wine glass as he did. Her legs settled across his lap and he let his free hand wander from her ankle to knee again idly. 

“You’re beautiful.” he said in lieu of a reason. He found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, though he found that happened often. Evvie always entranced him in the best way. A lilting compliment escaped him in Cheuhn and her eyebrow rose. 

“Why are you talking about Csplar?” 

Ien startled, he hadn’t meant to speak aloud, and he grinned. “Just that you are beautiful as the lights above Csplar.” 

She snorted, though her smile betrayed the exasperation in her words. “Charmer. That’s so cheesy.” 

Rolling his eyes, Ien’s grin widened as he let a faux dramatic edge enter his voice, as though he was doing a played up reading of a romance scene. “You make me want to say all the cheesy lines, my love.” 

Evvie’s laugh was bright and bubbly and she poked him with her foot. “If I had a pillow on hand I would throw it at you; now you’re just being a little shit.” 

While that was indeed his exact intention, there were hundreds of cheesy things that Ien would say to Evvie if he could only articulate them well enough. There were things he would say in Cheunh that had no translation in Basic. 

Taking a sip of his wine he shrugged, “I most definitely am, but the statement is still true.” 

His hand brushed across the material of her skirt and he caught it between his fingers, giving it a little tug, “This is different…?” 

“Noq found it for me.” Evvie explained, running her hand along the fabric until her hand rested over his. They curled their fingers together and Ien brought their twined hands together to press a kiss to the back of her hand. 

“It was a wonderful choice,” he said. “You look absolutely stunning.” 

Evvie’s eyes drifted to their hands, her expression softening. “I wanted to change things up a bit, make tonight special.” the corner of her mouth quirked up and she looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Give you a nice surprise to come home to, give me a chance to absolutely feel myself.” 

“It truly is a win-win situation.” Ien quipped, drawing his thumb in circles across the back of her hand. Affection welled up in his chest as he took a moment to just take her in. It had been too long since they’d last stolen a quiet evening like this. “I’m very lucky to be with you.” 

With both her hands occupied, Evvie jabbed him with her foot again. “Aw are you getting soft on me?” she teased before she shimmied into enough of a seated position to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”  Ien murmured, turning his head to kiss her in earnest. 

Squeezing his hand, Evvie hummed happily against his mouth. “Alright,” she pulled back. “You need to finish your wine so I can snuggle the shit out of you.” 

A full bellied laugh broke from Ien at that he wiggled his brows, bringing his glass to his lips. “Ooh really? You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

Together they watched sipped the rest of their wine under a comfortable ease and watched the last of the sunset’s brilliant colors fade from the sky before retreating inside themselves. 

Curled up on the couch inside, the holovision playing some one-off movie quietly in the background, Ien nuzzled closer to Evvie, pressing his face into her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. Her hand carded through his hair and she pressed a gentle kiss to his head. Wrapped in each other’s arms they watched the stars blaze to life, blissfully swept away in their own world.