#i have to read two books per week from now until the end of march and again for about 3 weeks after the easter break

[astudyintheburningofhearts]

Yeah I don't really know what this is- it just happened. Enjoy?? Hopefully?

__

The realisation had crept up on Sherlock one uncharacteristically sunny autumn afternoon in Baker Street. It had been a slow day, Lestrade yet to come bursting through the doors with a new case for them. John, having finished posting all their latest adventures on his blog, had been sat reading the book he'd been meaning to finish for well over a month at that point. Sherlock, meanwhile, was lounging on the sofa as per usual, one of his favourite books on beekeeping in his hands.

It was when he'd gotten up to get a glass of water that he'd stopped in his tracks, eyes widening minutely before they turned to his hands. He'd gone to get a glass of water for himself, yet here he was, standing barefoot in their kitchen, with two glasses in his hands.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sherlock marched over to John's seat, soundlessly offered him the glass, gave a curt nod in response to John's absentminded "thank you", and returned to the sofa; only this time he was faced away from John.

It had just now occurred to Sherlock that John Watson was indeed his favourite person. Yes, he loved Mrs.Hudson and (reluctantly) Mycroft and Lestrade and his Mummy and Daddy, but if he had to pick his absolute favourite person, he'd simply have no choice but to pick John. The realisation was juvenile, and yet. It made Sherlock burn from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes.

Ever since the day he'd had the realisation, Sherlock ensured he would make more of an effort to pay conscious attention to John's needs and desires, in order to make sure the good doctor would have no reason to consider leaving, for what would Sherlock do without his favourite person.

Which is why he felt like the stupidest man on the planet when he deduced John's niche interest in astronomy and cosmology. The signs had been right in front of him the whole time – the way John's lips would purse and a wistful longing would shadow his countenance every time someone brought up space; how when Sherlock had shown his utter disdain for learning the workings of the solar system, John had been more affronted than Sherlock had ever seen him; how when he'd moved in, he'd brought a decently sized collection of books on the subject – god, how could Sherlock have been so blind?

After having mentally berated himself, Sherlock set to work learning everything he possibly could about astronomy, just so that John could ramble on to Sherlock about the stars and the solar system and faraway galaxies and black holes; so John would stay.

And so, Sherlock set about learning astronomy and cosmology, first from John's own books, and then from various sources over the internet. Even when he'd had a particularly tough case to crack, he'd taken fifteen minutes each day to read up on astronomy, so as to not hinder his learning process.

By the end of the week, which gracefully had them solving only one case this time around, Sherlock had finished reading all of John's books and was currently working his way through some of NASA's many articles on various parts of the study that had fascinated him, and of course, what he'd picked up from John's books in the form of his little scribbles and highlights.

And really, he hadn't meant to reveal to John in any way what he was doing, at least not until the next time it was brought up in common conversation with someone they knew. In fact, Sherlock was planning on gifting John a short collection of scientific papers he'd found in the archives of Mycroft's vast library for Christmas if the topic wouldn't come up naturally.

His plans, however, came to a screeching halt when he'd left his laptop open on the coffee table while he went to the loo. When he returned, he found John scrolling through an article about black holes and the information paradox, resting his chin in his palm as he did so.

He paused, having been caught red-handed, clearly. John's eyes remained fixed on the screen as he slightly angled his head towards where Sherlock had entered the sitting room and asked, "Since when have you been interested in black holes and the such? Do we have a new case I don't know about?"

Sherlock paused, stood like a deer caught in headlights, unable to speak a word. John, having received no response, furrowed his brows and looked up at Sherlock, "Sherlock, is everything alright?"

Swallowing once and ducking his head, Sherlock embarrassedly went and sat on the seat adjacent to where John was sitting. He clasped his hands and held them between his knees as if he were a child waiting to be berated for something he'd done.

John's voice was softer now, "Sherlock you know you can tell me anything, but if you don't want to, I'm alright with that too."

Sherlock continued staring at his lap as he whispered, "I was reading for you."

"Pardon?"

Taking a breath, he looked John in the eye as he spoke again, "I was reading up on space for you. Not for a case."

John blinked in confusion – "For... me?"

Of course John thought it was odd Sherlock had done that, of course he did. This was clearly a mistake, Sherlock should never have considered doing this in the first place.

Becoming defensive, Sherlock snapped at him, "No, John, I clearly read all those books and articles because – oh."

He'd been cut off by something most unexpected. John had wrapped his arms around him and had half-nuzzled his face into his neck. "Thank you," John breathed.

Sherlock didn't reciprocate for the first minute or so, thinking John would let go, but when he gave no indication of doing so, Sherlock gingerly wrapped his arms around the smaller man as well, resting his head against John's as he did so, and something warm and pleasant settled in the pit of his belly at having his flatmate so close.

"Nobody's ever... nobody's ever really tried learning about something especially for me. They've never expressed interest in learning about the things I enjoyed learning about, so thank you."

John held on to Sherlock for a moment longer after he finished speaking and then he pulled away, leaving Sherlock feeling bereft.

John cleared his throat and returned to his previous seat, "So, what have you learnt so far? Anything that caught your fancy in particular?"

The smallest grin appeared on Sherlock's face, "You first Doctor Watson, what part of astronomy catches your particular interest?"

John smiled back and shut Sherlock's laptop as he settled in, "Well..."

And Sherlock found that though he doesn't particularly care for when people have to ramble, finding most of them to be dull and boring either way, he hardly minds when John rambles to him. In fact, he found he rather enjoys listening to John ramble.

And that was how the rest of the evening was spent, engaged in conversations about the cosmos and accompanied by an eventual Chinese takeout dinner.

AO3 Link – https://archiveofourown.org/works/59543044/chapters/151856185

[readingrobin]

(January 7th-13th)

Happy Friday everyone! I don't know about y'all, but this week got me real tired. Between work, personal projects, starting to commit to an exercise schedule, and setting things up for next week, I definitely needed a day to relax and realign. It also helps that it's cold outside so it gives me a wonderful excuse to stay under the covers. Now onto this week's past reads.

Books Finished

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and Her Monster by Jonathan Auxier (4/5)

The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu (4/5) (Review)

The Property of the Rebel Librarian by Allison Varnes (4/5)

Books Currently Reading

A Winter's Promise by Christelle Dabos (21% done)

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo (5% done)

Season of the Bruja by Aaron Duran with Sara Soler (45% done)

Books to Read Next

Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison

The Ivory Key by Akshaya Raman

Bookish Goings On

After working on it for a full four hours, my Magical Readathon journal is now all caught up. It's been sitting on my shoulders for months, so I'm relieved to have it all caught up before the Readathon resumes in April. By the time I was finished it looked like I was getting near to the end of the journal, which means I can finally take one of my empty ones laying around and give it a purpose.

I've also subscribed to a substack or two since I've last updated you all. You know, that website Dracula Daily used to send out chapters to people who wanted to participate in the Tumblr Book Club? Well now other people are setting up substacks devoted to disseminating classic literature in manageable chunks. Right now, I'm subscribed to Les Mis Letters, which is sending out one chapter of Les Miserables per day until the end of the year, and MusketeersDaily, which will send chapters of The Three Musketeers in the timeline it was serialized in the 1800s starting in March. I hope that I'll be able to keep up with it as I kind of fell on and off the wagon with Dracula Daily a few times even though I managed to finish it.

If you haven't heard, this week I also tried to track down a fairy tale I read in a children's magazine almost twenty years ago. Naturally I've given updates and was about to mention that the hunt wasn't going well, that I had lead to another dead end, BUT, ten minutes before I intended to publish his post, one person on Tumblr came in and found the exact one I was looking for.

The story is called "The Wolf and the Wedding" a folk tale from Russia that was published in Cricket magazine by Svetlana Ilyinykh and Rachelle DeSimone. Fortunately, the artist that illustrated the accompanying pictures for the story has put the story up on their blog, which you can find here. It's crazy that one of the mysteries from my childhood has finally been solved. I definitely recommend giving it a read. It has just the feeling of a dark, yet lovely fairy tale meant for cold, reflecting days.

Storygraph

[mimixis]

The White Knight: Part 0:01

can be found:

They say these are the golden years But I wish I could disappear

Mischa was thirteen when they moved to Japan.

She was against the decision, and it didn't even help that Aunt Chi visited her twice a week. On Mondays for training and on Thursdays for language lessons. Mischa loved her aunt, but if she was going to see her mostly on such occasions, she preferred not to see her at all.

Mischa loved visiting Japan, especially in March during hanami. They arrived in Japan in mid-March; the cherry blossoms were now blooming, but the teenager couldn't enjoy them. She remembered little of Baltimore, so the move didn't affect her in any way. In Italy, she had her life, her friends, and her habits. Japan was too different from the United States and Florence.

The four of them sat on a blanket under a tree and admired the falling petals. It was supposed to be a picnic to celebrate passing school exams. Japanese children didn't have to take it, but she, as an outsider who hadn't yet finished school in Italy, was to be tested to see if she was suitable for this class or if she should be sent to an elementary school that was also in the network of the school system of this private and prestigious institution.

At the beginning of the year, she learned that they were moving to Tokyo in two and a half months, and the moving work began. Her habits were shattered. She was to start the school year in April and end it in March. In Italy, she studied from Monday to Saturday, from morning until one in the afternoon, then went to private extra classes. Here she was to sit in school from morning until three in the afternoon, attend a club—it wasn't compulsory, per se, but was looked down upon by those who didn't—and then go to extracurricular activities.

So far, she has had Mondays off and spent them sleeping and reading about orcas. As she found out, the rhythm of the days would remain the same; only Mondays and tutors would change.

On Mondays, she was to train in self-defense with aunt Chi, and on Wednesdays, she would first learn Japanese with her, then English with papa, and finally French with daddy. On Tuesdays, she was to attend classes that would prepare her for medical school; on Thursdays, she would attend drawing lessons; and on Fridays, a tutor would come with whom she would practice playing the violin. Every other Friday, she would practice piano with papa. On Saturdays, she would study for the coming week and read books assigned by daddy to have discussions with him about them later. Later that day, papa taught her about finances. On Sundays, she would go with her parents to the pool and for long walks with the dog. They also went out to the opera and to dinner at restaurants.

She was expected to do it all, learn on the fly, and attend the club. It couldn't be just any club, either. Her parents and Chiyoh talked about it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, so Mischa assumed that's what it meant to be a Lecter.

"You've gone quiet, Sha-chan," her aunt said to her in Japanese. Mischa had the feeling that she had been prepared for this moment—the moment of moving to Japan after many years. She felt manipulated. "Don't you like the food prepared by your papa?"

"It tastes good," she replied, and her fingers tightened on the thermal mug. "I was just thinking."

"And what is my pup thinking about?" daddy asked, taking the cup from her hand; he handed her an onigiri.

Mischa bit into the rice. Inside was anko paste. She chewed the food for a while, avoiding answers. She always told them everything, but since January, she has gone quiet. It's hard to talk to someone who doesn't take your thoughts and feelings into account, even if they do it for your benefit.

"About who I will have in class," she lied, then shoved the last bite into her mouth.

"My acquaintance's son will be in class with you. I have arranged with them to come to our house for dinner. You will get to know each other better, and he will tell you about school," papa announced.

Mischa smiled. She hoped they didn't notice how forced that smile was.

♦♦♦♦

Mischa was forced into a pink dress with yellow flowers. It had short, ruffled sleeves and reached her knees. On her feet were matching pink slippers with a bow and flesh-colored tights. She felt like she was going to play pretend today. She was about to put on the costume of a stranger.

She stood next to Daddy in the dining room and waited for Papa to usher the guests into the room. She repeated in her head the phrase she had practiced many times with Chiyoh. She didn't want to embarrass her parents in front of such important guests.

Papa entered the room with a beautifully wrapped box, followed by three figures. A boy who was her age and looked a few inches shorter with dark hair and eyes; a woman, taller than Mischa by just the height of her heels, dressed in a cream-colored dress suit; and a man much shorter than Papa and Daddy, dressed in a smart gray suit.

They greeted each other and introduced themselves with bows. Mischa did the same and said her name, Michelle, as Misheru. The boy approached her, bowed once more, and, still bowing, said.

"It's nothing special, but here is something for you," he said, handing her a bouquet of yellow roses, white lilies, and cherry blossoms.

Mischa also bowed and accepted his gift with both hands. She turned on her heel and followed Papa into the kitchen. She poured water into a crystal vase and put flowers in it. Papa asked her to replace the flowers on the table with those given to her. The girl did so while Papa placed the appetizers by Mr. and Mrs. Chishiya.

Mischa put the former bouquet back on the mantelpiece under the huge painting of Leda and the swan and, with a quick step, went to get the appetizers for Papa and the boy. Papa grabbed the plates that were supposed to be Daddy's and hers.

"Don't worry, fawn," Papa whispered. "Everything will be fine."

Mischa admitted this with pain, but Papa's words lifted her spirits. She straightened up and let a gentle smile adorn her face. They were approaching the dining room, and Mischa could hear Daddy talking to his guest in English. He must have been stressed by his role as an entertainer, or it was the guests who took pity on him.

Mischa sat down in her seat after the appetizer was served and began to eat after Papa put the first bite of meat in his mouth. Mischa wondered what kind of pig had lost its life so that Papa could make this dinner.

They talked first about medicine, then about the hospital where Papa was going to start working—as it turned out, it was the hospital where Chishiya Hiroshi was head of hispital ward and Chishiya Emiko was instrumentalist—until they got onto the subject of moving and the school that Shuntaro and she would start tomorrow.

"Have you thought about what club you'd like to join yet, Misheru-chan?" Emiko asked from above her wine glass. "Shuntaro plans to be part of a chess club."

Mischa played with the napkin in her lap. The appetizer had long since been eaten by them, and they were waiting for the main course. The girl hummed, letting them know she was thinking of an answer.

"I'll probably choose the swimming club," she decided, recalling a brochure with options written out. "I'm starting a lot of extracurricular activities this year, but I want to keep my body in its current condition."

"A very mature decision. Shuntaro thinks that physical education lessons are enough for him," grunted Hiroshi.

"Each person's body has different demands and limits," she replied diplomatically.

She stood up when Papa let her know it was time to go decorate the plates. She applied the cranberry sauce in one smooth motion while Papa placed the potatoes and steak. By the time they reached the fourth plate, Mischa was almost free of the awkward silence that had suddenly formed between them.

"Swimming club, you say?"

"Papa...she started, but didn't know what to say.

Papa also seemed not to know what to do in this situation. So they finished putting the food on the plate in silence. Mischa was just putting the dish in front of Shuntaro when Emiko turned to her.

"Will you tell me that you play the violin and piano wonderfully."

Mischa knew what that sentence meant. It wasn't a simple statement of fact. It was a demand. Mischa was supposed to play, but, oh gracious lady, she had a choice. Mischa smiled courteously.

"Michelle will play for us after dinner when we retire to the drawing room," Papa decided.

This was brand new information for Mischa. They hadn't arranged it beforehand. Mischa had no idea what she would play. And when that moment came, when she grabbed her violin and the adults and Shuntaro sat down, Mischa thought of only one melody.

For the next five minutes, she played the main melody from the movie Howl's Moving Castle.

The guests said goodbye, and the family began to clean up. Mischa wiped the dishes with a dry cloth and put them away on the kitchen island. Papa's lips tightened, and Daddy's brow furrowed. The girl, on the other hand, was satisfied and smiled.

"Did you think about the swimming club for a long time?" Papa finally asked.

"No," she answered truthfully. "I thought that since the club is something mandatory for me and Mondays are already busy, I would sleep longer on Sunday and join you on a walk."

Papa didn't let on that he heard what she said, but Daddy furrowed his brow even more.

The following Sunday, her parents didn't wake her up to go to the pool together.

A month later, she no longer went for walks with them.

After two months of living in Japan, she also didn't attend the opera.

Mischa slept late on Sundays with Lucifer under her elderdown and watched programs about orcas.

She spent time with her parents only during dinners together. This state of affairs continued for a long time.

♥♥♥♥

The first semester of school was over, and the summer break began.

Mischa completed every homework assignment during the first week of the break and prepared notes that would allow her to recall the material before the second semester. Now she had no excuse for why she was still sitting in her room.

It was Monday, and Mischa was lying on the floor in her room and looking out the window. In a few hours, Aunt Chiyoh would come, and she would be in for a couple of hours of training. The woman quickly stopped teaching the girl self-defense and started training her to fight. She said Mischa had potential.

Mischa would rather nap at this time.

What could she do to avoid extra classes? Or at least part of them.

A chat message came to her aid.

GANG ORCA

[MITO]

ya hoe got tickets to the hecking aquarium

[CHIZU]

language, young lady!

[MISHERU]

lol

[MITO]

Main station, 12

[CHIZU]

yes sir!

[MISHERU]

k

Her aunt won't arrive until six in the evening, so Mischa will have five and a half hours. It won't be Kamegawa, and she won't orcs, but she will also be able to have fun with her friends.

She met Chizu on the first day of school. It was hard not to notice her. She had shaved the sides of her head and had ear piercings. She was arguing loudly with a teacher about school rules. Behind her stood an equally short girl with long black hair and bangs. She later learned it was Mito. She was quiet among strangers, but once you gained her trust, you had a friend for life. At least, that's what Chizu said.

When all three of them were in the same class, Mischa came up to greet her and complimented her on her hairstyle. Chizu measured her with a glance, suspecting her of lying. Mischa understood why; she had her hair perfectly styled, her shirt in a skirt, and over that, a sweater vest and jacket. Papa had tied her tie in the morning, so it had no right to be crooked.

Mischa smiled.

"Now I can't afford too much, but when I'm of age, I want to get a tattoo similar to these illustrations," she said, taking her phone out of her bag and showing her drawings.

"Are they yours?" Chizu asked. Mischa nodded. "You will design mine for me."

Mischa smiled, amused. How bold to think that they would be friends for so long!

(Chizu was right. Mischa designed tattoos for her and herself, and together they got them done in London.)

Taking a seat next to Mito, Mischa turned around, feeling a stare at her. On the last desk by the window sat Shuntaro. Or maybe Chishiya? After all, no one else from his family was here, so it was inappropriate to think otherwise about him. She nodded to him, and he responded with the same. Moments later, their teacher entered the classroom.

Mischa thought for a moment about inviting Chishiya to go on an outing with her and the girls, but they had only exchanged a few sentences during the first semester. Mostly to please his parents, the girl thought. That, however, was enough to get the rest of the class and her friends interested. Apparently, Chishiya rarely showed initiative. Mito knew what she was talking about. Throughout her years of education, Chizu had been in class with him.

In addition, his persona frustrated her incredibly. Every midterm, every test, and now in the ranking, she was second, right after him. This had never happened to her before. She was defeated by a boy who didn't seem interested in anything.

She threw the phone on the bed, deciding that they were not close enough to each other to invite him anywhere.

She got up, stretched, and went into her walk-in closet. She had gotten up early in the morning to finish her Japanese notes and had managed to take a shower. Now it was left for her to get dressed, avoid a long conversation with her parents, and get to the train station.

She was going out with the girls, so she could afford to do more than she did when going out with her dads. On the other hand, she couldn't overdo it, or they wouldn't let her go. So she settled for a combination of a white shirt, a black ribbon, and a yellow dungaree dress. Neat, just the way Papa liked it. A little color, just as Daddy liked.

She combed her hair and tied it into a loose braid. She stuck her head out of the door and listened. Papa was in the study. She didn't know where Daddy was. So she had no choice. She knocked on the study door.

"Come in," the voice replied.

Mischa slipped in quietly and closed the door behind her. She stood in front of the desk at which Papa was working and intertwined her hands behind her back. For a moment, she shifted her body weight from heel to toe, from toe to heel, then stood still.

"Mito got tickets to the aquarium and invited Chizu and me."

"When?" he asked, putting down his fountain pen and focusing all his attention on her.

He looked as if he already knew the answer.

"Today, at twelve o'clock," she said, then added quickly. "But I'll be back in time; I wouldn't miss training with Aunt Chiyoh."

"Of course not," he announced. He got up and walked over to her. He looked at her hair, her outfit, and her hand, which was now tightened on the strap of her purse. "Do you still have money? You'll probably want to purchase something for yourself at the gift store and have lunch on the premises. Don't eat too much fast food. You'll spoil your appetite and won't eat dinner." I still have pocket money. And I won't eat much. And I know there's supposed to be fish caught by Papa for dinner tonight."

Papa smiled at the mention of Daddy.

"Exactly," he said, patting her head with his huge hand. Mischa stopped herself from flinching. "Next time, try to make appointments with your friends earlier. Then we can cancel or reschedule classes."

She nodded and disappeared behind the door, wondering when her relationship with Papa became so complicated and when she began to love and fear him at the same time.

♠♠♠♠

Mischa complied with Papa's request and planned her next outing two weeks in advance.

Mito's parents had a beach house and could take five people with them. Three of them were, of course, Mito, Chizu, and Mischa. Less obvious was that the other two were Mito's childhood friend, who went to the parallel class, and Chishiya. Apparently, Takeru was the only person Chishiya was willing to talk to. As eagerly as Chishiya could talk to someone.

The parents were skeptical at first, but after assurances from Mito's mother that the boys would get one bedroom, the girls another, and the married couple's room would be between them, it seemed to reassure them.

They were going there for three days, so Mischa packed the right number of bathing suits, dresses, shorts, and shirts. That is, twice the number of days she was going there.

(Not to mention underwear, which she took three times as many.)

She also packed a kimono that Aunt Chiyoh had bought for her. Mito said that on the second day their parents would take them to a summer festival, and it would be a good opportunity to dress festively.

Her parents drove her to the meeting place. Papa and Daddy were packing her suitcases in the van; they were about to embark on their journey, and Mischa stood by Chishiya. She nudged him on the shoulder. She grinned when he muttered something under his breath that sounded similar to it's way too early for that.

"I didn't expect that the beach might be something that would interest you," she said in passing.

She noticed that their parents were watching them. His with a strange gleam in his eye, hers sadly.

"Because it's not, but I'll get out of the house thanks to it," he said, tucking his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. "Well, and my parents will be happy because we will spend time together."

"Ah," she replied, not knowing how to comment.

She was saved from an awkward silence by Chizu, who threw herself on her back.

"Yo!" she greeted. 'I'm looking forward to the trip! We're going to go swimming, eat barbecue, go to the festival, and outplay you all in every game."

They laughed. Even Chishiya smiled slightly.

It was just as Chizu had predicted. They swam, ate a lot, and went to bed late. They didn't get up until late noon. Mischa stuffed as much unhealthy food into herself as possible.

'Take it easy," guffawed Takeru. "Chips won't run away from you."

"Advice for the future; don't comment on how much or what a woman eats," she said, her mouth full of snacks. "And maybe they won't run away, but tomorrow's dinner I will eat at home, and it will be the most controlled meal you can imagine."

"Seriously? Your fathers control you that much?" Chizu asked.

Mischa nodded her head.

"Papa has calculated what my needs are for everything and sticks to it," she replied, then patted her stomach. "That's why I have such muscles. Diet, swimming, and self-defense training."

"They train you to be a super soldier," laughed Mito. "From today on, I will call you the Winter Soldier."

"Excuse me," Mischa said, feeling outraged. She hit the girl lightly on the shoulder. "I can be something much better. The Black Widow!"

A few hours later, they were ready to go out to the festival. Mischa walked at the back with the quiet Chishija, mentally preparing herself for the crowds. She also wanted to address an issue.

"You know," she began, once they were at the stalls and the rest were busy browsing the trinkets. "We don't have to be friends for me to help you. With your parents."

"What do you mean?"

"They are pushing you to be friends with me, right? So we can just pretend. Sometimes I'll send you something or call you, so you'll have proof that we're in touch. And at social gatherings, we'll be friendly with each other. It seems to me that it's better when both parties pretend and have the benefit of it than when one gets tired and the other has a fake friend.

"It's true; they want me to spend more time with you," he admitted. "Wouldn't you mind such an arrangement?"

"No! After all, I proposed it myself," she giggled. "Well, and as I said, I'd rather be part of the plan than find out in a while that everything was a lie and you don't really like me."

Chishiya mused, then handed her the orca necklace she had been eyeing for a long time.

"It's yours, but someone else has to put it on you," he said, paid the vendor, and joined Takeru.

Mito put it around her neck. Mischa didn't even take it off when she got a diamond orca necklace from her parents when they went to Kamegawa at the end of the vacation. She even preferred the cheaper, ordinary one on a strap. It seemed more sincere.

They sat on a bench, Papa to her left and Daddy to Papa's left. They waited for the show to begin.

"I'm glad we came here, fawn," Papa said, his voice as soft as when she was a child.

She smiled but didn't respond. Her parents were already engrossed in themselves.

The world was sending her mixed signals.

♣♣♣♣

Mischa spoke to Chishiya for the last time that year on December twenty-fifth at a charity event.

The next two years looked similar.

As of April, they were no longer in the same class, and it happened again in their senior year. When they managed to catch each other's glances, they greeted each other politely and went back to their lives. Mischa, however, never took off her necklace; now she uses it as a bracelet, wrapping the cord around her wrist a few times.

Chishiya occasionally looked at it.

They talked to each other a couple of times during those two years, all of which took place at parties their parents took them to.

This state of affairs continued until high school.

Mischa lived up to her end of the bargain. Every time they met in the presence of their parents, she acted as if they were best friends. However, after each of these situations, she felt an unfamiliar sting in her heart.

Maybe she should go to a cardiologist.

Ego crush is so severe God, it's brutal out here (Olivia Rodrigo - brutal)

[soft-epilogue-continues]

5.10.23

Ok so I got nothing done yesterday except the project update and filing my nails. In my defense, the novel-length fic I was reading was really good and brought me lots of joy.

I have spent the past half an hour working on my own fic so that I could get it out of my system, though this has made me even more excited to work on it and I hope I can keep that excitement up this evening. With any luck I'll be able to edit this chapter and post it tonight!

Also in my defense of yesterday's zero output, I started looking for a new job, which I do every once in a while when the ennui gets to be too much.

My thought is that if I transition away from being a software engineer and go to being a product manager I would have all the same bullshit I'm dealing with now but with none of the inferiority anguish I feel from being a shit programmer. I have a few options in this regard:

Apply for a product manager role I don't necessarily want just to have the interviewing practice and see if I can get such a job.

Attempt to transition to a similar role at my current company to see if I even like it.

Put my nose to the grindstone and become a better programmer even though every bone in my body is screaming that while I am capable of this, I do not want to do this.

At the moment I want to do option 2 though I suppose I should also make more of an effort at option 3. Regardless I think I'm giving myself until next March for a few reasons:

I don't want to give back my new work laptop and it will officially become mine in March 2024.

All of my stock options will have vested by then and I will have had the opportunity to exercise as much of them as possible (need to get on this this year actually so taxes are less of a headache).

I will have gone through another review cycle which, according to my last one, means I might get promoted if I get my ass in gear since the only thing holding me back is how slowly I deliver completed projects, a fixable thing.

The length of time will give me a chance to "design my work life" (as per that book of the same name that I will be going through) and see, in the most risk-averse way possible, if I even like the work required of a product manager. To that end there are a few things I can start doing now that I know of without even going through that book's work sheets, such as attending my working group's assessment meeting tomorrow and maybe checking out the work done by the current product team, of which I am not 100% certain that we even have one as such. All of this I will record in the incredible Japanese notebook/bullet journal with my incredible Japanese pen (pictured above) that I bought on my work trip to Tokyo two weeks ago (just another thing to be grateful for about this job - I get to go on awesome trips!)

Ok! Enough outlining grand plans, the to do list!

Work:

Quantitative experiment analysis

Qualitative analysis

Phone roaming charges reimbursement I have checked on this and I have not yet been charged for international stuff

Work trip photos, part 1 Done though I will take a break here and actually share them with my coworkers another time, I've spent enough time on this today

Read the assessment before tomorrow's meeting

Investigate the product team

Go through mountain of receipts for reimbursements

Registration form for upcoming all company meet up

Personal Admin/Life:

Exercise

Cook dinner

Health expenses substantiation

Budget

Personal Creative:

Work on fic #1

Work on digital painting

Self portrait?

Volunteering!!! (I am so behind on this. This is actually a programming project of the computational linguistics variety which is its own possible career exploration, not to mention actually interesting, so I can't neglect this!)

[queen-mihai]

I do. And thank you for this lovely response

What I'm doing kind of is my all-win scenario.

I think...I think it's finally time to introduce a concept that I've been building on since childhood:

"Not the name people scream. But the name that they whisper"

It's a concept of "fame" that I've meditated on for most of my life. Basically the type of person I'd like to be if I were ever to grow some sort of an audience.

I've mentioned before that there's a person I've been friends with for over 30 years. One way he used to tease me was to call me "yo ol' famous butt"

Because, you see, I knew everybody at my church. And everybody at my school. And I was on a first name basis with the convenience store owner and the crossing guard and some of the local cops and basically anyone who had seen my face more than once.

I was voted "most outgoing" in my high school marching band at a time when I still regularly introduced myself as "shy".

My point here is, I've always made myself known. Literally in my young life without even knowing it. Becoming a well known person, or even a very well known person... it's not something I have to try for. It's something I have to prepare for

Michael Jackson. Michael Jordan. Tupac. Barack friggin Obama. Fame, for black people, in more cases than I care to count, seems to be a curse.

There's an almost undeniable pattern to it. Explosion to fame, basking in the limelight, stupid mistake(s), hellish backlash, public humiliation, and possibly even death. Or if they're extremely lucky, comeback.

By limiting the ease with which I can be found, I allow myself time to grow. For instance, I've always been nervous about posting my age. I thought having a 41 year old on here posting political takes, memes, and jokes; interspersed with muscle pictures, would just be off-putting.

But with the number of people I've had start following me, it felt weirder NOT to include my age. Especially with just how horny some of these lovely people are.

Or for instance, the fact that I'm able-bodied. If you look even two weeks ago, I doubt those words even show up in any post I've ever written. But suddenly I'm coming out with the fact that I'm able-bodied nearly once per day.

I have, very recently, learned that I have not been recognizing my own privilege as an able-bodied person. Had I been easier to find, I might have been written off long ago as ableist.

Right now, I have a chance to at least try to adjust. Be more thoughtful and inclusive. And not so that I don't "get canceled". But so that I'm not hurting people. Because I DO care. I do want people to be okay. And I'm doing my best to fight for everyone and fight against a few specific powerful names who would probably rather see me go out in a blaze of glory. (But go out nonetheless)

You see, this *is* my win-win.

Neither my personal nor my professional life are dependent upon the acclaim I've built on the internet. I don't earn money from this blog, save for perhaps a few dollars per month from book sales that could or could not come from Tumblr.

I'm here because I like it here. And I like the attention. I just try to do my best to keep things reasonable.

I'll take you back to high school as a final point:

In high school, I was in the marching band. This made it possible for me to get to know members of the football team. (American football for the rest of the Europeans reading this). I was part of the pep band, which gave me the chance to get to know kids on the basketball team. I was in jazz band and concert band, which gave me the chance to meet the theater kids, and I was on the speech club, meaning any "nerdy kids" ended up being my friends too.

I thought "knowing everybody" was just a part of the normal high school experience. It wasn't until I graduated and was once again called "ol' famous butt" that I realized I was the *only one* running around talking to basically *everybody*

Here's the thing, though;

Nobody KNEW that I knew everybody. Not even me. That wasn't the point. If simple popularity had been my goal, it would have been a lot easier. I wanted people around me to have a nice time. I wanted them to feel like kindness existed and was real and findable. That was my goal.

I don't use my blog for money, I don't boast my accomplishments, and I don't even make my most popular opinions all that easy to find. No skyrocketing rise, no plummeting fall. Just me. Being me.

And no matter how well known I may become, I'm always careful enough and kind enough that my name will only be spoken

"Oh shit isn't that Princess Mihai? Nice!"

As a whisper

Another weird thing I do:

I don't tag shit. Like unless it's slightly nsfw or something, I don't tag a damn thing.

This is my own version of analytics.

I'm hard to find. It's one of the reasons I know most of my posts aren't gonna ever get a lot of interaction. I make a "10k to me" post, and yeah maybe it gets more interaction than most of the rest of my stuff, but before too long, my reblogs and other random thoughts make it damn near impossible to find that post unless you know a fairly specific way to look for it.

I've learned my lesson. I won't call out a specific number that this post "won't hit". But I mean most of my posts don't see more than a few sets of eyes, and that's kind of by design

You see

By not utilizing the system to bump up interactions on my behalf

I have an idea how interested people are in looking for me specifically

I ain't tagging this either

[fingertipsmp3]

I want a book to absolutely put me through the ringer. I want to experience the full range of human emotions in approximately 300-400 pages. But I have way too much assigned reading to do

[adorerdraco]

Malfoy’s Gone Soft! ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Draco, your boyfriend, is mean to everyone until you call him out for it.

Warnings: mentions of bullying :( and a couple profanities :0

Words: 2K 

A/N: omg i wrote this on a whim while listening to the euphoria score soundtrack in like an hour idk if its all that but i have no idea what i’m going to do next for Healing Heart so for now i’m just going to write other things for Draco until i get inspired ! & feel free to send me requests ! also thank you for 100 followers you guys are amazingggg !!!!!!!!!!! *insert pouty emojy*

The sound of arrogant and boisterous laughter filled the courtyard, the Slytherin Prince and his minions were tossing around a book bag that a helpless 2nd year Hufflepuff was chasing around every time it was thrown to another boy. One of the boys yelled a foul, “mudblood!” that made the boy tear up as he reached and jumped up for his bag that was in the air every few seconds. It was nothing new to the school, Draco and his band of bullies would bother anyone who they found as an easy target just for the fun of it.

Unfortunately for Draco, you had been passing by through one of the corridors with a group of friends when you had seen the fiasco. As much as you adored your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny the sometimes nasty persona that he had and how much it bothered you. He would always swear up and down that he would stop his antics, but you often encountered him or heard from other people of him being in the same situations that he had promised would stop. 

You marched your way over to the group, a fire in your step and your eyes fixated on Draco who was laughing like a fool. You watched as Goyle rushed to elbow Draco’s side, earning him a look until he had pointed in your direction. All joy in the blond’s face quickly drained once he saw your vexed expression heading towards him.

The book bag had dropped from his hands onto the stoned courtyard ground, the young Hufflepuff hastily grabbed it and ran off in tears back into the castle. You stomped up to Draco, noticing how he had visibly swallowed in fear at what your reaction would be.

“What happened to, ‘I swear I’ll stop being a git to everyone!’” You asked him incredulously, mocking his voice as you quoted him. 

“Malfoy said that?” Blaise chuckled as if it were a joke. Both you and Draco turned to give him a frenzied look.

“Y/N, I...” Draco trailed off, looking around at his friends who were awaiting his response with smug smiles on their faces. Then he looked towards you, a hope glittering in your eyes that he would reassure you and be the sensitive boy you knew behind closed doors and away from his every day reputation. “I...”

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” you deadpan, a scowl making its way onto your face when you realized he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Why do you care what I do to a stupid little Hufflepuff?” He snickers. Whatever hope you had left went up in flames, he had chosen his reputation.

“Because it’s mean,” you sneered. “Why would I want to be with an arse like that?”

With that, you turned on your heel, walking out of the courtyard and back to your friends where you walked to your next class without turning back to look at the group of shocked boys.

“I think you just got dumped, mate.”

“Merlin’s sake, do you ever shut up Zabini?” Draco fumed, his heart breaking at the question and his mind running a million miles per minute. He began walking towards the entrance of the castle to head into the common room, bumping shoulders aggressively with Blaise as he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t sure whether or not you and the Slytherin Prince were broken up. Of course, it was the last thing you wanted but you were sick of the endless excuses and empty promises. You knew of the package deal Draco Malfoy came with when you started dating him, but there was a point when it all became too much. You were hoping in a last ditch effort, that if he genuinely really cared for you and respected your wishes, this would be the final push he needed to change.

It’s not like you were asking him to completely stop being himself. You were only asking for him to stop with the unprovoked teasing and pushing around of innocent bystanders. His friends especially, were a big reason why he continued to do it as he loved being the leader of the group and all that came with his positions as; the funniest, the most attractive and charming, the smartest, the wealthiest, the strongest. It was all just a game to him but he never saw the aftermath of his tormenting and how it could really affect someone or their day. You were like a broken record, repeating to him over and over again the same wish you had for him but he never absorbed it.

So now here you were, furiously writing your Potions essay in the library as your mind ran with thoughts of the aggravating platinum blond and nothing having to do with Calming Draught. 

“Write any harder and you’ll break your quill,” a certain timid voice said from in front of your table. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Draco. You didn’t want to give in so easily to his intoxicating nature because the second his scared gray eyes were to meet yours, you’d melt. “Y/N, I’m sorry. For what happened in the courtyard.”

You sighed, setting down your quill and shaking your head, eyes still trained on your parchment. “It’s not just what happened in the courtyard, Draco. It’s that you do this to someone new every single day.”

“I’ve been this way all my life, I can’t just change who I am,” he argues. You finally look at him, the both of you silently seething at each other.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Shh! Quiet down, the two of you or you will be asked to leave,” Madam Pince exclaims angrily from her desk. You turned back to Draco, hard eyes trained on him as he glared back at you with the same irritated look.

“I would just like to know why my girlfriend feels the need to suck the life out of all my fun,” he says lowly to you. Your face goes scarlet as you try to contain your wrath from being let out on the whole library, and on Draco who wouldn’t even know where to begin to handle it. But as angry as you were, it was quickly replaced with anguish and pooling tears as you thought of the main reason why you had wanted him to be nicer.

“Because your ex-girlfriend knows how it feels like to get bullied and targeted every day for no reason,” you spit sorrowfully. “I know what it’s like to live on the opposite end of what you think is fun and I promise you it’s nothing near that.”

You hurriedly grabbed all your things and rushed out of the library with tears streaming down your face as Draco only stood there feeling like the biggest most insensitive idiot and asshole in the world. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a week since the incident at the library and the both of you couldn’t be any more miserable. It had gotten to the point where Draco felt ashamed and gross if he was even accidentally rude to someone, let alone on purpose. The blond boy watched you intently from his Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his friends and their conversation sounding like a distant incoherent buzzing as he focused onto your sad and defeated face and figure from afar. 

He had tried everything he could think of to get your attention, to get you to hear his apologies, but you wouldn’t give him the time of day; you refused to. You were beyond hurt. Not only because of Draco, but also because of the painful memories that had resurfaced that you spent so long trying to get over. It was all just a mess and Draco regretted everything he had said to you and everything he didn’t do for you.

“Just give it a rest, Draco,” Pansy sighs exasperated at the boy’s longing stares. “She broke up with you, stop pouting about it and move on.”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco sneers. “Mind your business why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, if I was her, I would never do or say anything to ruin our relationship,” she shrugs, peering up at the frowning Slytherin through her eyelashes.

“You’re not her though, are you?” Draco snarks, his eyes squinting at her as he shoots the mean remark her way. All the surrounding boys give an “oooh” at the interaction, cackling as they watch Pansy go red in the face before abruptly standing up and leaving the table in a rush. 

Draco did the same and removed himself from the table to dart out of the Great Hall and towards an empty corridor near the courtyard where he liked to hide on an large windowsill. He had enough of his despair and enough of sitting around and doing nothing to win you back, so he got to work on something that would be his last and this time big gesture, to get you to listen.

A few hours had gone by, it was sunny and there was a nice breeze that was perfect for Draco’s plan on winning you back. He especially knew that when the weather was like this, you enjoyed sitting on a bench in the courtyard, the sun caressing your face with warmth as you read a book. 

He walked out of the corridor and towards the courtyard, and just like he knew, he spotted you sitting at your favorite bench angled towards the sun and deeply entranced in whatever book was in your lap. He took a deep breath before nearing you, stopping a few feet away to where you didn’t notice his presence just yet. His hand reached into the pocket of his robes, picking out the small and large variety of origami birds notes he had written and charmed to fly over to you and around you in a pretty and gentle circle. A bouquet of red and y/h colored flowers had appeared in his hands behind his back, all he was waiting for was for you to accept him.

You looked up from your book, eyeing all the paper birds that were fluttering around you and across the way was a frantic looking Draco with his hands hiding something behind his back. You let out a deep exhale, reaching out to grab one of the birds and unfolding the note to read his perfect cursive.

I’m sorry.

Then you grabbed another.

Please forgive me.

Then another.

You are everything to me.

And another.

I promise to change my habits.

And then the final one, the biggest bird of the bunch.

I should have listened to you from the beginning and I’m sorry I haven’t been more sympathetic. I’m also sorry that you had to go through that in your past. You are so beautiful and strong and deserve everything good in this world.

You placed your book to the side and stood up, opening your arms in a hug for Draco before he bolted towards you and enveloped you into his arms with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologizes again into your hair as he nuzzled into you. He pulled back, handing you the large bouquet of flowers that made you blush as red as the roses that were mixed into the assortment. “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I swear on everything I love, I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dray,” you chortle. “All I’m asking is for you not to be such a terrorizing little git.”

“Done,” he grins, throwing himself into your arms again as you giggled and ran your hands through his hair.

The two of you plop onto the bench below you, Draco peppering kisses all over your face in glee and gratefulness that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He didn’t even dare remove himself from you when he saw his friends strolling by, snickering and pointing to the nearly snogging couple.

“Malfoy’s gone soft!” Blaise yells across the yard, the rest of the boys laughing in response as usual like the mindless bozo’s that they were. Draco rolled his eyes, throwing them the middle finger before nuzzling himself back into your embrace.

[route22ny]

Survivor stories: Death, loss and selflessness during the pandemic

By Jacqueline Cutler / New York Daily News

Those days when the word corona made you think beer or crown feel like long-gone innocence.

So much happened during these 18 months that how we’re reacting to different phases of the pandemic and how survivors are coping are worth documenting.

“Voices from the Pandemic: Americans Tell Their Stories of Crisis, Courage and Resilience” is a powerful reflection on the last year and a half. Pulitzer-winning journalist Eli Saslow has managed the near-impossible: He makes you want to read more about the pandemic.

This doesn’t bother with maps of where the virus is spiking or death tolls. It can’t be of the moment. Instead, it’s the story of all of us — those who have taken every precaution and those who refused to acknowledge COVID’s deadly path.

Done in the style of the late great Studs Terkel, these are oral histories as the history is happening. Each section has people sharing their stories in their words.

Sure, it’s edited for clarity, but there’s no spin. It’s unfailingly fair: When a tenant recounts her eviction, the next entry is from a landlord who exhausted her savings trying to not evict people.

Even though we think we know the stories of the pandemic, we can’t – at least not all of them. And we never may. Saslow carefully selected a cross-section of people; some who have since died, some who recovered, some who never may.

Saslow reminds us of the first whisperings. On Jan. 4, 2020, there was news about what was considered a pneumonia outbreak in China. Five weeks later, it had a name, COVID-19.

A month later, life as we knew it stopped.

“She’s dead, and I’m quarantined,” Tony Sizemore, of Indianapolis, says of his love, Birdie Shelton, in the first entry from March 2020. “That’s how the story ends. I keep going back over it in loops, trying to find a way to sweeten it, but nothing changes the facts. I wasn’t there with her at the end. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I don’t even know where her body is right now, or if the only thing that’s left is her ashes.”

With that gut-wrenching opening, we’re off. We meet dozens of people we’ve never heard of, which is precisely the point. Everyone knew when Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson were among the first celebrities to get COVID.

But this book introduces Bruce MacGillis, a man in an Ohio nursing home. He refused to let temp workers who couldn’t wear masks correctly get near him and isolated himself until he was vaccinated.

“I’m a hard-ass about this stuff, and I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he told Saslow. “I can’t afford to take chances.”

Some who tell their stories are the superheroes of the pandemic.

A shift leader of a nursing team in Detroit, Sal Hadwan, recounts insane shifts. While we celebrate and honor health care workers – now more than ever – the dire conditions they were working under were horrifying. Remember garbage bags serving as protective gear? Some had one mask per shift.

In April 2020, Hadwan said: “We’re basically handling the most severe cases in the ER, which is not our training. These nurses don’t have a second to relax. You’ve got one patient’s oxygen running out and another whose heart rate is going wild. All you can do is try your best to hear the alarms and then sprint as fast as you can from one emergency to the next. You hope you make it in time. Sometimes you don’t.”

Naturally, it’s bleak. But there are also stories of humanity at its best.

Burnell Cotlon of New Orleans (pictured above) turned his grocery store in the Lower Ninth Ward into a food pantry. He couldn’t afford to, but some of his neighbors couldn’t afford to eat.

As he said in April 2020, “Last week, I caught a lady in the back of the store stuffing things into her purse. We don’t really have shoplifters here.” He knows the customers in his two-aisle market. The woman swiped a carton of eggs, hot dogs, and candy bars.

“She started crying,” Cotlon told Saslow. “She said she had three kids, and her man had lost his job, and they had nothing to eat and no place to go. Maybe it was a lie. I don’t know. But who’s making up stories for seven or eight dollars of groceries? She was telling me, ‘Please, please, I’m begging you. How are we supposed to eat?’ I stood there for a minute and thought about it, and what am I going to do?”

Colton started running tabs – for the first time. He went from having zero customers on credit to 62 within a month. He kept giving to neighbors until he fell three months behind on his mortgage.

In a postscript, Saslow adds that when Colton’s generosity became known, online fundraisers brought in $500,000. Naturally, he put it to great use: forgiving his customers’ debt and beginning construction on a subsidized apartment building. “He also gave out free school supplies and turned his store into a free vaccination site for the community.”

Every page in this is sobering. Every story chilling, relatable, and absolutely forthright.

For those who lost their jobs and who were living paycheck-to-paycheck, rent became impossible to pay. To lose your job, your health, your relatives and now your home is unbearable. Granted, the news often focuses on the tenants, while many of us assume landlords only take time out from counting their money to harass tenants.

It’s a lot easier to feel for the tenants, who are doing all they can.

Saslow interviewed Tusdae Barr, evicted during the pandemic. Although money was tight before COVID, Barr was making rent with everyone in her family chipping in — until work dried up. Barr eventually found herself ousted, then in cheap motels, and finally with relatives.

If you never thought you could sympathize with a landlord, meet Jayne Rocco of Deland, Fla. She became a landlord 25 years ago when broke, reeling from a divorce. Rocco found a lender, bought and fixed up a cheap house, then flipped it and bought two houses. She continued doing this until she had 10 properties, none fancy. Rocco’s profit was about $40,000 a year pre-pandemic.

Trying to help her tenants and pay her bills, Rocco exhausted her savings. She’s still trying, and still has troubles. With some of the people featured, their troubles are financial. For some, such as a newlywed, former athlete Kaitlin Denis, of Chicago, the effects of long-term COVID, are medical. She’s drained and can barely get out of bed.

And some trying to help, such as Amber Elliot, county health director in Farmington, Mo., found herself threatened with anti-vaxxers posting photos of her kids online.

The book ends with a leading voice of science. Stanley Plotkin, 88, a virologist, “developed the rubella vaccine that’s now in standard use throughout the world.” He’s worked on other life-saving vaccines and consults for the World Health Organization.

“Parents can expect their children to grow up, and that’s a relatively new thing,” Plotkin told Saslow in January. “It shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

If this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that nothing can.

(source)

[angstbabyjae]

DSMP Tier List

This tier list was shared in a discord server I’m in, so I thought I’d give it a go. Not entirely satisfied with the section titles, so I used them quite liberally. I will explain why I put people where I did. On the tier itself I didn’t order them by preference but in my explanation I will. Please not that they will be ranked from favorite to least favorite per category (for example: I put Sapnap technically above Niki despite liking her character more) and not by how much they deserve to be in each category (for example: I prefer Technoblade to Phil but I believe people excuse Technoblade’s actions more than Phil’s). I encourage healthy suggestion in the comments since I only joined the fandom around the Green Festival and haven’t seen the history/POV’s of every character, though I try. Enjoy.

Gonna slap on a big ol’ “/rp” here just to be safe.

You've done nothing wrong come here (holds you gently)

So the thing about this section is that I don't believe any dream smp character is completely innocent, so I used this section more like a top of tier than as it's title implies.

1. TommyInnit

Ngl, Tommy is my favorite character in the Dream SMP. As a fellow Loud Person I relate to him a lot and his feelings that nobody really likes him. His mental health struggles are close to my heart and (SPOILERS) his death just made me so devastated. I really hope they don't end his arc like this. Not when he was just starting to heal, please. Tommy has certainly done a lot of things wrong. I'd highly recommend watching the exile decision from both Tubbo and Tommy's POV's because you can really get a grasp of their mindsets. Despite this, he is my fave.

2. Ranboo

Until recently I preferred Tubbo to Ranboo, but cc!Ranboo just totally outdid himself on lore and acting to the point where I couldn't deny it anymore. Ranboo did do *some* things wrong, but they are less extreme than many on this list (I don't count things he might have done under Dream's control since he wasn't conscious). Ranboo's character makes me go into protecc mode. So yeah, very good enderboi.

3. Tubbo_

Tubbo doesn't have much lore for his character, but like I do with many others on this list, I like to overanalyze and interpret certain characters to be deeper than they are. The Tubbo I have in my head is a lot more complex than what cc!Tubbo probably meant to portray. There is so much angst potential with his character, similar to many others, but what puts him top tier for me is the emotional connection I have to his character and how I relate to getting so much put on my shoulders and having to make tough decisions.

you're an amazing character

Okay so technically Schlatt should be on this list if we are speaking from a narrative standpoint, but seeing as the way OP labelled the other sections on this chart I'm guessing they meant morally as well.

4. Alex Quackity

Quackity is my favorite adult character. I don't even know why, I just love the idea of this comic relief character becoming such a catalyst for plot and more serious as time goes on. I love taking the dream smp characters and making them deeper than they probably are, as I do with Tubbo, but now it seems cc!Quackity is fully taking his character to the height of his potential and I can't wait to see what he does with him next.

5. AweSamDude

(SPOILERS) As such a big Tommy fan I must admit, my first thought when Tommy died was that Sam was partly responsible. If Dream told him what he did to Tommy in exile like he claims then he would have at least put up the obsidian barrier between them or something. After watching Ranboo's most recent stream (right now it's March 3rd) I understand why Sam did what he did more. My initial anger towards him has dissipated a bit. I still love his character so much. He really did care about Tommy and now... dang. I can't wait to see what happens with him next.

6. Captain Puffy

It was very close between ranking her or Sam higher, but given all the in depth character stuff we're getting from Sam right now, I'd have to rank him above. Despite this, Puffy is a character that I started out not knowing anything about and am now feeling her climb the ranks in my books. Sometimes I feel like she's the only adult who actually put Tommy's well-being above other things, despite them not interacting often. I wasn't around for the whole "duckling" thing with Dream and have yet to watch the VODs, but I just want her to visit him now and punish him for the Tommy stuff. (SPOILERS) I can feel Dream's next ploy being trying to convince someone to let him out in exchange for bringing back Tommy and if Sam doesn't cave then Puffy probably will. Also, I really hope that her and Niki's relationship isn't forgotten. There's so much angst potential there. Also, I need sapphics to survive.

7. Eret

So, I wasn't a fan of the SMP during season one. I hadn't even heard of it except for like my friend referencing Technoblade now and then. After watching some VODs of Eret's I am slowly starting to fall in love with her characterization. I am so soft for their redemption arc, for the regret he feels. Now that cc!Eret is back from their mental health break I am so ready for more.

8. Fundy

Fundy's a character that I will forget how much I love until he goes live again, or until I reread his old quotes. He has a lot of lore to him that surprises you every time you remember. Whether its his last speech to Schlatt to COCONUT 2020, Fundy always gives the audience something more to think about.

9. "Ghostbur"

Ghostbur is one of the few characters who genuinely make me want to cry. cc!Wilbur's performance was both hilarious and immaculate. I really want to find out more about his lore, though. Do all dead people with unfinished business get an alternate version of themselves to roam the Earth while you stay in the afterlife unable to make contact unless the veil is thin? Was Ghostbur just Wilbur pretending the whole time? (SPOILERS) Is Tommy going to get one? Is Glatt canon? Much to think about.

10. BadBoyHalo

While I despise egg-possessed BBH, normal BBH has my entire heart. The fact he gave up his mind for Skeppy is *chef's kiss*. I am very impressed with everything cc!BBH is writing right now.

11. Karl Jacobs

My second favorite polyamorous dimension hopper after Star Butterfly (let me have Startomco please)! TFTSMP just gets better and better each week. His time travel shenanigans are so fun and mysterious. Karlnapity is just a big ol' pot of angst just waiting to happen. WEDDING SOON PLEASE!

no intense opinion

While I do have opinions on some of these characters, they aren't intense enough to place them anywhere else.

12. Ponk

I don't watch him all that often since he's live during my school time, but what I've seen I love. Him starting that whole side plot expanding on that one TFTSMP episode intrigues me and I can see it tying into the egg somehow. Him and Sam are really cute together (/rp) and I want him to become more plot relevant again.

13. Antfrost

GAY CAT GAY CAT GAY CAT! In all seriousness, I really want him to do stuff with his character to make him more than just BBH's second-in-command (I have similar feelings with Skeppy, but I know he isn't very big on lore). Side note, but I really love the hc that RedVelvetCake is inside the egg. I want him to join so bad.

14. Purpled

I've only just started watching the actual clips from pre-L'Manberg times and Purpled was once much more plot involved than I thought. Him planning on getting his revenge on Tommy at the same time as the "police" investigating the Camarvan back in early season one was comedy gold. Shout out to BlueberryTV on YouTube for making it so easy to watch. In conclusion, we stan an underage mercenary.

15. GeorgeNotFound

Idk if this is a hot take or not, but I feel a good portion of people who love George's character are just DNF shippers who want to turn his crumbs into an angst factory, but you know what? Valid. While I am not a DNF shipper, I have seen the angst y'all have brought to the table and very much appreciate it.

16. ConnorEatsPants

The most I think I've seen of Connor has been the hostage scene and the non-canon party scene from this season. I don't have much to say except that his small speech to Tommy after he was let go about him not being a bad person despite traumatizing him hit surprisingly hard in the feels.

17. Skeppy

cc!Skeppy is not a big roleplayer, and I get that, it's just sometimes his character feels a little like an accessory to Bad's character. Please link me some good Skeppy moments in the comments if you can, I want to try and learn more about his character. His angst with Bad right now is top tier, though, and I choose to believe that Big Daddy Island is canon and that Bad took him there to keep him free from the egg. I actually wrote a fic about this if you want to check it out! Mind the tags, though, I went a little macabre with it.

18. HBomb

When I first learned about the SMP it was two nights before the green festival and I was up until 3am at my aunt's house reading the plot summary. The first clip of the smp I saw was the election VOD, where HBomb joined for the first time. I don't know much about him other than the fact he was Fundy's maid for a time and it was absolutely hilarious. I saw the recent stuff with him leaving Greater SMP to start over and enjoyed it. Hope we get more stuff like that with him.

19. Callahan

Gets all the ladies. What else can I say?

you're trying your best and I respect that

20. Sapnap

I put Sapnap here because he's on his way to becoming an amazing character. The angst stuff with Dream is the stuff George fans can only dream of (pun unintended). I like how he went from the cop, the pet killer, Dream's right hand man, to mushroom cottegecore gay living his best life and dealing with the pain of losing his best friend. The whole "Dream's bitch" conversation with Tommy that I saw an animatic for some time ago made me hurt so good. Also #KarlnapityWedding2021.

you're redeemable, thin fucking ice though

These are characters who I somewhat dislike to a degree, but still have hope for. In my opinion this section should be switched with the one after it in terms of which is worse, but oh well.

21. Wilbur Soot

I know he's already dead but if he's brought back to life I want a redemption arc from him back. (SPOILERS) If neither him nor Tommy come back to life then dsmp has a horrible track record with killing off their mentally ill and (tw) suicidal characters. Wilbur has done some awful things, but if he's brought back I don't think he'd be beyond saving.

22. Jack Manifold

I need to say something about Jack. He is so very very close to being in the "you're trying your best" section right now after his most recent stream. His redemption arc is so close I can taste it and if he is redeemed right I can see him joining my faves. His most recent stream was just so well acted that my heart just wants to forgive him already... until my brain remembers he tried to nuke a child. Don’t know if this is also a hot take, but I think he had more of a right to be mad at Tommy than Niki did, but I know for Niki it's more complicated than that.

23. Niki Nihachu

There was a time that I adored Niki Nihachu and a part of me still does, but she has gone a little bit off the deep end. I do understand it's a trauma response, though. cc!Niki said that her villain arc is almost over, which disappointed me a bit because we kinda barely got to see it since it was so overshadowed, but I am also relieved. I just want my wlw baker back :(

people excuse your actions more than you deserve

I am just going to pretend that this section doesn't say "love". I still like these characters a lot even though they get away with a lot of shit.

24. Technoblade

I love Technoblade too much for him to be ranked this low, but like I said this ranking is based on fitting the section descriptions, not how much I love them. Technoblade's POV is understandable but also that doesn't excuse the pain he's caused so many people. L'Manberg was more than it's a government as much as Techno is more than a weapon.

25. Philza Minecraft

Philza deserves to be in this section a little less than Technoblade because I actually agree with a lot of what Philza fans say. Tommy is not Philza's kid. Phil has a lot of trauma around killing Wilbur, yes. I just don't see how you could watch Ghostbur's Friend speech during Doomsday and think he was in the right for doing it.

i don't like you

26. JSchlatt

JSchlatt is an amazing character in many ways. The acting? Glorious. The dialogue? Spot on. With that being said, YAYY HE'S DEAD!!! I really like leaning into the abusive relationship hc with him and his cabinet. He was probably the most fun villain we've ever had, though.

I WANT THIS MOTHER FUCKER DEAD

27. DreamWasTaken

Come on, do I even have to explain?

[durmstrange]

Dark Days - Neville Longbottom

Welcome to my next neville blurb!  This one I have been thinking about for quite a while so I am happy that I finally completed it.

Enjoy!

word count: 1,318

It had already been a relatively dark day for you.  It was the fourteenth of January, shortly after Christmas holiday had ended, and you were starting classes back once more.  You hated getting back into the groove of things, especially after a break, and this year was no exception.

The snow outside was deep, which made the corridors of Hogwarts so cold and made it hard to get from class to class.  The professors were all assigning many assignments to be due in just a few short days and quite honestly, it was just the time of year for you to feel overwhelmed.  Little did you know, it was about to become so much more complicated.

Begrudgingly, you had crawled out bed like normal, dressing quickly and warmly, and you bounded for the Great Hall for breakfast.  When you arrived, there were not many students awake yet, but per usual, your sweet boyfriend Neville was at the table, already halfway through his breakfast.  

With a small smile, you sat next to him, gathering bacon and eggs onto your plate quickly.  “Do you set an alarm or have your silly owl wake you at the same time ever morning?”  Neville asked you without looking up from his breakfast and his book.  

You chuckled, shaking your head.  “You know I don’t,” you replied, spreading jam onto your toast hastily.  You always rushed at breakfast so you could finish your homework before classes began in a short hour.  It was your routine and you never broke it.  Until today, at least.

As Neville opened his mouth to say more to you, you pointed up to the open window at the peak of the ceiling, where a light brown owl swooped in.  “Just on time,” you chimed lightly, giving him a smug smile.  The rutty owl dropped the heavy newspaper onto the table with a thud and you almost choked on your food at the cover.  Even rolled up, it frightened you.

It was never good news if Azkaban was on the front.  

Neville snatched up his newspaper, seemingly oblivious to the front cover and of your worried, watching eyes, and as he untied the twine holding it shut, you about grabbed it out of his hands for going so slow.  Nonetheless, you waited, and as he glanced at the cover, you watched as his face paled as well.  “Escapes from Azkaban?”  Neville mumbled to himself and you leaned over his shoulder, reading.

The two of you read in silence and your heart sank further and further in your chest at the words.  “Neville…” You began, but your own words failed you miserably.  Without a word, Neville dropped the newspaper into his breakfast and stood from the table abruptly, marching from the Great Hall.  

The angry, unrecognizable look on his face was so foreign to you that you were almost scared to follow him.  But, out of love and habit, you, too, dropped your breakfast as if it were nothing and chased Neville through the Great Hall and into the main corridor.  “Neville, wait for me!”  You knew he could hear you clearly but he did not slow his pace in the least bit.  

Still, you caught up to him, half jogging to keep his pace, and looked at his face.  It was redder than you had ever seen.  “Nev, do you want to be alone?  Or do you want me there?”  You asked him blatantly.  Your relationship with him had always been that way.  Straight forward and to the point.  

“I need you,” Neville croaked out in a tight voice.  You realized as he said this, he was seconds from crying, and you took his hand, pulling him though all the corridors even quicker.  

Before too long, you made it to the Gryffindor common room, and without any hesitation whatsoever, you dragged Neville to the dormitory he shared with his friends, all of who were now long gone.  As soon as you got the door closed behind the two of you, furious, numbing tears flowed down Neville’s cheeks as he gasped for breath.  “She is out!”  He cried to you as his hand flew to his hair, pulling hard at the brown locks you loved so much.  

Without any hesitation, you approached your Neville, pulling his hands from his head and putting them to his side as he cried miserably.  You pulled his cloak from his shoulders, tossing it onto his trunk and did the same with your own before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing his head down to your neck.

His arms wrapped around you, bunching up the fabric of your uniform sweater and holding you tighter than he ever has.  “Breath, Neville, breath for me,” you instructed him as he sobbed loudly, gasping for breaths in between.  “They will catch her.  They will catch her and she will be locked up again when all of this is over.”  Despite the fact that you tried to remain calm for him, you voice was uneven and unsure.  Regardless, he began to calm down, and oddly enough, you knew that meant the rage was coming.  

“She tortured my parents and she is not free!  Escaped!”  Neville raised his voice, pulling away from you and pacing the room.  “Bloody evil witch!  How are they going to catch her?  They couldn’t even catch Sirius Black!”  He shouted at you and in your entire short life, you never felt so small.

With a squeaky voice, you responded.  “Neville, you know that situation is entirely different,” you murmured to him as you looked at the ground and anything but him.  

He approached you, and you realized how truly tall he was as he loomed over you.  “I don’t care how different it is!  Before Harry came to know he was innocent, the ministry was unable to catch him!  They won’t catch her!”  He continued to get angrier and finally, you grabbed his hands, pulling his face down to yours once more.

“Listen to me, Neville.  Her end will come.  Whether it is today, next week, next year, or in ten years.  She will die an uncelebrated and belittled death and you will prevail, now calm down because leaving Hogwarts right now to hunt her down will only result in being expelled, detained, or even killed,” you told him in a surprisingly even voice because inside, you felt like you were going to be sick at any moment.  You watched as realization struck his face and his tense stature relaxed in the least bit and he nodded gently.  With a frown and trembling lip, you let go of his face and let him stand straight.  “I understand this hurts.  I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel, but just know, I will be there.  Always,” you assured him and he nodded once more, pulling you into a hug.  

You held him, for what felt like an hour, and he remained silent, resting his head on your own as your head leaned against his chest.  You listened to his heart beat, which remained faster than ever, and as he spoke quietly, you felt like your heart might jump out of your chest.  “I love you.”  Neville told you, for the first time.  

With a smile playing on your lips, you pulled back, placing a soft kiss on his lips, and patted his cheek.  “I love you, too.”  You told him genuinely and smiled to him.  “Now, dry your face.  We are late for class.”

Neville smiled and chuckled, but you could still see the pain in his eyes as he turned away from you, and you knew he would need much more assurance.  And you had no issue giving it.  After all, you loved him.

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Elisabeth & Noah in the origin world (2/?)

First date

He is not sure if he should text her or not.

On Monday, upon waking up with every ounce of alcohol finally off his bloodstream and after he has spent the entire Sunday recovering from the worst hangover he’s experienced since his college years, Noah is back on his reserved nature, the timid one, the one lacking the amount of whiskey-infused courage it takes for him to deal with matters revolving around human interaction, especially with women. He’s not a social outcast per se, but his confidence mostly accompanies him in the career-oriented side of his life.

It’s not like he’s not interested. He crossed the line of “interested” when he stooped to the lowest level possible, looking her up on Instagram, of all things, via Agnes’ account.

(His little sister has a long list of questions and he has a long list of brotherly favors that he promised to fulfill in exchange for her seven-digit password.)

She doesn’t have a vast presence on social media, a quality they apparently share. He keeps a long forgotten Facebook account and a professional LinkedIn one and acts blissfully ignorant towards any other platform that isn’t YouTube. Her Facebook account - oh yeah, he checked that one too - is a mix between personal and business, opinion posts about socio-politcal matters on the grounds of their country to the entirety of Europe to the endlessness of the globe and take-action events in regard to the causes she supports, occasionally interrupted by a reunion selfie with an old friend or a brunch date with her mom and her sister. That particular post redirected to some Instagram link, so, unwittingly, his curiosity was peaked.

Her Instagram account is colourful, vivid, filled with adventures and laughter. Just from an idle scroll, Elisabeth Doppler - Winden born, age twenty-four, Energy Engineer, Berlin based - can easily be perceived as someone that quite enjoys life. Her group of associates and friends seems endless and her gallery consists of photos of dinners with young professionals, pub-crawling with girlfriends, road tripping across Europe, Erasmus Programme memories, tree-planting projects, women’s rights marches, snorkelling, paragliding. Noah spends the whole Sunday afternoon feeling overwhelmed and in awe, tapping picture after picture, mesmerized by her lovely smile that adds a softer undertone to her busy bee of a life.

He finds it fascinating, her mindset and her lifestyle, but, at the same time, he fears that their personalities may clash, his more keeping-to-himself attitude the polar opposite to her seemingly outgoing one. Then, it’s also the age barrier. He thinks that thirty-two might be a little off-putting for someone in their early twenties, a decade that comes with a whole other set of expectations and milestones than the one he is currently in. The major problem, though - a chronic problem of his - is that he’s thinking too much.

Fortunately, that’s not a thing they have in common.

Elisabeth texts him on Monday morning, at 9.54 to be exact. He’s in the middle of a lecture, teaching History of Religion 101 to an auditorium filled with sleepy freshmen, when his phone screen lights up, its glow illuminating in the dimly lit room. It’s a simple “good morning” paired up with a smiling face emoji but it’s enough to cause his heart to race and his mind to short-circuit, leaving him reciting things off the projection screen without really registering what comes out of his mouth until the lesson is over. With sweaty hands and in the mist of internal panic laced with excitement, he texts her back at 10.38 an equally casual “hey, hope you’re having a good morning, too”. He beats himself up for not asking her anything the minute he presses send, like, how she’s doing, if she’s at work - literally anything, Noah, Jesus Christ, now she’ll think that you don’t care, nice work, you idiot - especially as the hours pass and there’s silence from her end. He spends the rest of the day drowning in miserable self-pity, checking his dead phone literally every minute, until there’s a new message from her, telling him that she had a very busy day at work and asking him how his day was.

(Thank God, because he was about to send her an embarrassing word vomit apologizing for having zero social skills whatsoever.)

They continue their back and forth texting for the rest of the week, casual conversations about their everyday lives turning into debates about the best places to eat and the best movies of all time to metaphysics and social justice that keep them up till the small hours of morning, Elisabeth sending him blowing-a-kiss face emoji’s for goodnight and Noah smiling like a silly teenager at his phone screen. Right in the middle of one of their more “serious” conversations, Elisabeth venting about income-based discrimination, Noah asks her out. It’s abrupt and totally irrelevant to the context of the rest of the bubbles that litter their personal chat at that moment but he can’t really help himself. She is a woman he wants - needs - to know more about, not through a screen, but in person, sit there and watch her express all the things she has in her brilliant mind.

They arrange to meet on Friday night, after she finishes work, since Noah has to attend a seminar in Dresden on the weekend and since both of them are too impatient to wait any longer. Noah arrives first at the bar she gave him directions to and decides on waiting for her outside but decides against smoking a cigarette, even though he’s itching to, out of habit and nerves. She rounds the corner barely five minutes later, strutting towards him in an electric blue pantsuit and a plaid maxi grey coat, her whole face brightening with a stunning smile when she notices him, and, just like that, everything else fades, his anxiety about their first official date, his mental fatigue after holding office hours, his insecurities, his worries and she is the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters.

A wave of panic washes over him momentarily, his inner perfectionist making a huge deal out of not having a clear plan of how to greet her. A handshake is too impersonal, a kiss too presumptuous. Ultimately, he attempts an awkward, one-arm kinda hug - which is ridiculous because a) he’s a freaking grown-up and b) her tongue has already been inside his mouth and he doesn’t recall his hands being particularly respectful the night of Jonas’ wedding, when she pushed him against a wall and stole his breath with a glorious kiss - an action she probably misconstrues as a leaning in and this results in them doing a clumsy dance right there on the pavement, but she giggles and her eyes shine with amusement, so his self-deprecating frown gives its place to a handsome smirk, when she moves closer to him and leaves a soft peck on his cheek, as a belated greeting. She smells of sensuous jasmine and intoxicating amber, her perfume aery but with a spicy twist that succeeds in stimulating all of his senses. He holds the door for her to enter and his hand lingers lightly on the small of her waist, as they make their way through the tables to the bar.

They settle on two empty barstools and order their signature drinks, Gin and Tonic and Whiskey on the Rocks. Elisabeth takes her phone out of her tote bag but before she gets to type anything, Noah holds her attention. He thinks for a moment and then makes his hands move, forming tentative gestures that lack any grace or flow but succeed in signing “It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”.

Elisabeth beams, impressed, her lips mouthing an excited “how?”. He just shrugs and shyly pulls out of his messenger bag a thick sign language book, a recent purchase of his which he’s been studying with every chance he got. Her whole face softens, touched by his sweet gesture, before she types on her phone.

That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you. Even though you shouldn’t have; apart from technology’s assistance, I’m pretty good at reading lips.

He uses his phone to reply. Yeah, I gathered that much. I just want to talk to you in your language.

The look that she gives him under her fluttering eyelashes is so tender and lovely that he can’t help but stare, a foolish grin plastered on his lips and a hot blush painted on his neck, creeping from the collar of his grey shirt.

They talk - type, to be exact, with the occasional mimic of a word or two - about everything and nothing, fast thumbs trying to keep up with their effortless conversation on the notifications’ section of their phones. He learns about her childhood in Winden, her hellish pranks to her older sister Franziska, her loving parents that separated when she was a preteen but never stopped caring about each other or being there for their daughters. She talks about her hometown friends and her honor roll high school experience, moving to Berlin to attend university and falling in love with the lively vibe of the city, getting her Master’s in Energy Engineering and recently landing her first job on the field at the Tiedemann Enterprises, a very prestige corporation in the industry of renewable energy. She’s still particularly excited about this, being part of a team of researchers thriving to improve energy efficiency based on an environmental friendly strategy.

Noah tells her about his memories as a young boy in Vechta, how he lost his mother when he was only six, due to complications while giving birth to his sister, how his father was never really in the picture after that tragic incident. How the local church and especially Sic Mundus, a church based organization for neglected children and troubled teens, contributed to his and Agnes’ well-being and education, helping him land a university scholarship and get a job, so he could afford moving his sister to Berlin, too, after he got his bachelor degree, and offering her a more stable living situation and a normal life. How, apparently, his aptitude for the humanities and his upbringing in a religious environment drove him to follow an academic career in religious studies, a field that he finds beyond interesting, especially its anthropology aspect.

Somewhere along the conversation, too absorbed into their own little world to register the fewer people in the bar and the clock ticking towards closing time, his hand, as if it has a mind of its own, slides slowly over the wooden top of the bar, her slender fingers meeting his hesitant approach halfway. They’re barely touching but it’s electrifying, the feeling of even an inch of his skin against her skin so exhilarating and powerful, like the impact of meteors colliding or the universe exploding into pieces. It feels like a Déjà vu, like a glitch in the Matrix, like they know each other from the past or recognize each other from their future. It’s a feeling both of them kept seeking, a feeling that they silently vow never to lose.

Noah pays for the drinks, despite her objections, and Elisabeth insists that, next time, the bill is on her. He smirks, a tad tipsy on the whiskey, a lot tipsy on her, and teases her that he must have done something right, because this is the first time a girl agrees on a second date with him this fast. She just shrugs, a cheeky smirk playing on her lip-glossed lips, as she types, if I left it up to you, we’d still be on the PG-13 “good morning” texts. He laughs, an effortless, loud laugh and he catches her staring - no, not staring, checking him out - the corner of her longing smile trapped between her teeth. He fights the insane urge to kiss her senseless right here in this empty bar with the bartender mentally plotting their death for keeping him past his shift.

He accompanies her to the U-Bahn station and his heart skips a heartbeat at the prospect of sharing ten more minutes with her, according to the information display over their heads. She wishes him to have fun in Dresden and he confesses that he wishes he could stay here, to spend the weekend with you, he wants to add but refrains, in fear of confessing too much too fast. Instead, he tells her that he had an amazing night and he’s so relieved and purely happy when she nods vigorously in agreement, her low ponytail bobbing lightly and her beautiful face radiating even under the harsh fluorescent light of the station. The atmosphere around them is suddenly very charged, their bodies gravitating towards each other, and their eyes engage in a stare off that speaks volumes and holds so much unresolved tension. He can hear the bright yellow train approaching and his breath quickens as he takes a brave step forward, invades her personal space, and his eyes declare defeat, falling to her lips. He’s the one to kiss her this time, a soft peck that turns into a needy battle of dominance when she melts into his arms and angles her face to kiss him more, deeper, hungry mouths dancing together in passion, his shoulders hunching over her smaller figure, his hands cradling her cheeks. Her own hands sneak under his coat and suit jacket, delivering a heavy caress over the material of his shirt before she closes her arms around his waist, Noah letting a trembling exhale into the kiss and his lips forming a lazy smirk against her giggling ones. Smugly, Elisabeth tugs lightly at his lower lip with her teeth, a naughty essence to the playful action, and this fuels another round of heated kissing, their bodies pushing and pulling, their heavy PDA a thing they’ll be embarrassed for in the morning. For tonight, though, they’re just two people getting drunk on each other in the middle of a train station, as if tomorrow will be the end of world and they’ll cease to exist.

When they pull back for air her lips are lipgloss-free and her eyelids, still closed, are fluttering over scarlet cheekbones. Noah has never witnessed a most beautiful sight in his life.

Elisabeth gets on the train with a dazed and dazzling smile, promising to text him when she arrives at her apartment. They refuse to let go of each other’s eyes until the train vanishes into the dark tunnel and Noah is left there, on the empty station, a finger reaching to his lips, not quite believing that the fruity taste of lipgloss that still lingers in his mouth or the woman whose lips left their trace behind are real and not a product of his wildest fantasies. There’s an extra hop in his steps as he walks up the stairs to catch the train to the opposite direction, boarding the vehicle at the last minute and sliding quickly on a seat, lovesick smile intact and a newfound feeling of contentment and thrill nested in his chest.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and types, unable to wait any longer.

I get back early on Sunday. Would you like to have dinner with me?

[thatonecurlygirl]

Biology of Billy Hargrove [11]

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Billy x Reader Word Count: 1.7k Warning: none Read more: Biology of Billy Hargrove Masterlist

“Language!” Your father yells, peeking his head out of the front door.

“Sorry,” You drop your head, watching your feet as you walk back to the door, stopping before you walk in and turning to Max. You open your mouth, but before you say anything you shake your head and walk inside closing the door tightly behind you.

“What’s going on young lady?” Dad asks, eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest. “I’ve never heard you use words like that.”

“Just frustrated and tired, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I doubt that,” He chuckles, “Just watch what you say around your mother, you know how she gets.” His eyes widen dramatically as he pats your shoulder and walks past you.

Your parents are polar opposites and most days you wonder how in the world they have been together. Your dad is laid back and goofy, and always was, as he would say ‘the class clown of Hawkins High’ which your mother would agree was a fact and likely holds the record. Your dad is also a hard-working business man outside of the home. He is basically an older, male version of his sister, Lottie.

Your mother is kind, but no-nonsense woman with a love of literature and sewing, which is probably where you got your determination for doing well in classes and love for reading. Your parents purchased an old video store in which they turned into a bookstore that your mother has been managing for the past four years. You normally work there during the summers to help out, but once you graduate, you’ve agreed to take over the bookstore as she has grown tired of it. She is the kind of mother that would sing lullabies and bake cupcakes for your class, but would also ground you for a week for getting a ‘C’ on a spelling test. She would set up beautiful parties for your birthday, but leave someone else to watch over you and your friends.

“…Y/n?” Your dad’s voice calls out from behind you.

“Yeah?” You turn to face him.

“You having trouble with that Hargrove kid?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Kind of, but it’s nothing that I cannot handle.” You shrug it off. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You let me know if you need me to…” He draws his finger across his throat as he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

“You’ll have to get in line behind Gary and Lottie.”

“Hey, I’m your dad, I think I deserve first in line.” He playfully boxes the air.

“I love you, Dad.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“I love you too, kiddo.” His deep chuckles vibrate his chest. “Now you better go make sure you have everything together for school tomorrow.”

***

At school the next day you are walking the hallways with Angie, books held tight to your chest as the two of you walk to your class together. She’s going on about her boyfriend, Joseph, who moved an hour away for college and how he is going to be back in town this week as college classes had just ended for the summer. She’s ecstatic because they actually get to spend some quality time together, especially with the school year coming to an end in a week and a half.

“…And his cousin Davey, the hot one, is going to be staying with him for a week or two and Joe said Davey thinks you’re cute. You should go to Vickie’s party with Davey on Wednesday.” Angie rambles.

“Wait, Angie is having a party in the middle of the week?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, yeah! Thursday is senior skip day. You think your mom’ll let you skip?”

“Mom would rather walk through hell in heels before she lets me skip school after being suspended.” You scoff. “I may be able to get away with going to the party and work something out with Dad, he’d understand.”

“I would die if you couldn’t!” Angie says dramatically.

“Angela, we are in English not theatre, please tone it down and take your seat.” Mr. Jordan glares over the thick brim of his glasses.

“Tone it down and take your seat. Blah, blah, blah.” She mocks him under her breath as the two of you walk to your normal seats.

The class slowly fills and right before the bell signals the start of class, Billy strolls in smirk playing across his face eating up all the attention from being back to school after being suspended. The popular, empty-headed girls warmly welcome him, calling him to a spot they save especially for him. As he stalks up to them, he glances over at you, face unreadable. It feels like the two of you are caught in a staring battle before one of the girls break it by grabbing Billy by the shirt and pulling him into the seat next to her.

“What was that about?” Angie leans across the aisle and whispers.

“I told you we aren’t on the best of terms right now. He’s just trying to intimidate me.” You open up your book.

“Y/n, that wasn’t a ‘fuck you’ look, but a ‘I want to fuck you’ look.” Angie nudges you, eyebrows raised.

“Whatever.” You scoff quietly.

“Y/n, you’ve just returned to school after your lengthy suspension, is being in my class today an issue?” Mr. Jordan call out in front of the class.

“No, sir.” You shake your head.

“And I trust you can act like a proper lady in the class room and keep quiet?” He looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Yes, sir.” You say simple, biting your tongue in order to refrain from calling him out for talking to you like that.

“Thank you.” He smirks, turning back to the chalkboard.

With your head ducked like a scolded puppy, you glance over at Angie who mouths a guilty ‘sorry’ and you catch Billy looking at you, small smirk playing at his lips. You want to smack that smirk right off his devilishly handsome face. You want to not think he is so handsome, that his lips are so soft and kissable. You sigh, looking back at the chalkboard and your teacher accepting the idea that today is going to suck.

Class continues per usual, Mr. Jordan going on about whatever the hell he is talking about, normally you’d be paying attention, eating up every bit of knowledge that comes from his mouth, but you find yourself zoning out, staring down at your hands and just letting the world continue without you, until Angie nudges you with wide eyes, nodding toward the front of the class.

“Please bring your brain back to Earth, Ms. Y/L/N. Also if I could have you and Mr. Hargrove speak with me after class, I have some things to discuss.” Mr Jordan says with that normal sour-look on his face.

“Yes, Mr. Jordan. My apologies.” You nod, tucking your hands under the desk and tuning into what he is saying, despite the fact that it’s just going through one ear and out the other.

When the bell rings you hang back, slowly gathering your things and standing up to walk to Mr. Jordan’s desk in the front once everyone has filed out and to their next class. Billy slowly swaggers over, a look of disinterest on his face and a subtle glare at you before Mr. Jordan speaks.

“I received your final project while the two of you were out suspended. You had another week to work on it are you sure you are ready for it to be graded?” He asks.

“Yes sir, we worked hard on the project while we were out and I made sure to triple-check it before turning it in.” You nod, refusing to look at Billy as you hold your books close.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure I spoke with you and give you the opportunity before moving forward. Another thing I wanted to mention is the fact that the two of you were suspended and now you are at school, make sure your brains are on the work and not each other.”

“Sir, I know I was a little distracted today, but it has nothing to do with Mr. Hargrove.” You defend yourself, but Billy stays quiet.

“Please, Ms. Y/L/N, I am not a fool.” He shakes his head and nods to the door. “The two of you received a 96% on the project. Now I will see you both here and mentally ready for class tomorrow.”

“Absolutely, thank you!” You smile wide and turn, exiting the class.

“Absolutely, thank you.” Billy mocks after the two of you make it into the hallway. “Why are you avoiding me Y/L/N?”

“Oh no stupid nickname? Why the hell have you been avoiding me, Hargrove?” You whip around, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

“What gives you that idea?” He chuckles, leaning against some lockers.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe playing drag race on our street every time you see me. Can’t get away from me quick enough? It doesn’t matter anyway, we have no reason that we need to associate with each other anymore so don’t worry about it.” You go to turn around but he catches you by the arm.

“What are you doing Wednesday?” He asks in a low, sultry voice.

“Besides school, I have plans and you aren’t part of it. The only reason I talked to you that day in the first place was because Max asked me to. I was civil with you because we had a project together-”

“Is that what you call making out and wearing my clothes?” He cuts you off.

“I have no desire to speak with you about this anymore or at all. So fuck completely off.” You turn around so quickly you’re surprised that you didn’t give yourself whiplash and march over to Angie who is waiting at your locker, eyes wide.

“Well shit.” She says astonished.

“Tell Davey I’m excited to see him again.” You shove your books in your locker and slam it closed before walking to your next class.

_. _. _. _. _._. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. 

Taglist: @xicarcalii @dacremontgomerylover @super-strange-sons @dontxfearxthereaper @magicwithaknife @asheseiler @admiralsixx @chims-kookies @ashleymarieriffle @cynthianokamaria @gingertalksshit @weyheyavengers @queenemoscene @charmed-asylum @katiexdacre @devilslittlebabygirl @xxemoluverxx @nooneshappy @loud-binch @naiomiwinchester @hurricane-abigail @speedmetalqueen @softsleepyeyes @lady1505 @jjlizz @pedrosdoll @booswrites @kingkenzieo

[nikstersss]

Not How To Pass The PLE

Before I go into the main gist of this post, let me give you a small background story. I was a mid-year post-graduate intern in Manila who started in January 2021. I lived alone in our condo unit near the hospital I went to. My usual routine was to get up early, prep, take a short walk to the trike station where I’d take a tricycle to the hospital, go on duty, insert a coffee or carioca break in between, walk all the way home at the end of the day, then maybe have a short study session with a couple friends after dinner or just chill at home. It was a pretty good setup. But then COVID happened. Suddenly, I was a pandemic e-ntern stuck at home listening to Zoom endorsements and lectures all day. At first I was hopeful that things would somehow go back to normal and maybe I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my internship in front of a screen, but we all know how that turned out. 

I finished the first half of my internship with the regular year PGIs online. While they were prepping for their boards, I was on my second half with the new batch of interns (that’s probably you, dear reader)—still online. Now you might think that it would have been wise of me to use all that “free” time to start early with my own boards prep and you would be correct. I thought the exact same thing. And trust me, I tried. And failed. Countless times. I won’t even try to justify it. Admittedly, I still think it was a wasted opportunity to read more and make notes, but then again, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Besides, while it would have been nice and probably less stressful, I still survived without it. Which means that you can, too. So if you’re one of those who’s berating himself because you “didn’t make the most out of your time”, cut it out. You’ll be fine.

Towards the end of my internship, I enrolled in a review center. Despite the asynchronous setup, the review schedule was super tight and the sessions already started while I was still in the middle of final reports and exams. Needless to say, I was already behind on that before it even began. In fact, I didn’t even get to focus on reviewing itself until maybe around early February because of clearance, paperwork, and application stuff. So if you were to ask me how long I really reviewed for the March 2021 boards, I’d say just a little over a month. Kasalanan ko. Wag po tularan. Stressful siya. Nakakaloka. 

And even when I did get to really buckle down and do some intense reading, I didn’t follow the program anymore. I tried to catch up at first, but I was already way behind. But I am grateful for all the summarized material because that meant I didn’t have to pore over the mother books anymore. What I will say, though, is that because I didn’t exactly follow the recommended study hours etcetera, I was able to enjoy the whole process because I did it at my own pace. Sure, there was still that dread that maybe I wasn’t on the same level as the others, but I learned to tune those thoughts out eventually. And that’s where goal-setting and discipline comes in, I guess. 

The most common question I’ve been getting is what was my day like during the PLE review season. Honestly, I’d like to say I had a routine I followed, but that’s only half-true. While I did have a structure for my day, I rarely followed it exactly. Nevertheless, allow me to share what it would have been like if I did: 

Ideally, I’d wake up at 5:00 A.M. then do my morning routine which included prayer and meditation, making my bed, taking a shower, and brewing coffee. And because I’m the type of person who enjoys these mundane activities and slow mornings, I also took this opportunity to get myself in the zone before all the studying that’s to come. I’d plan out my study goals and outline (something you can do the night before, actually) then maybe have breakfast while watching some videos (could be review-related, or those self-motivational vids, or maybe even Korean street food). I’d do whatever I wanted to wake my brain up without stressing it out too much until around 6:30 A.M. By this time, I’d work on backlogs for about an hour and study until about 10 or 11 A.M.—it depends how in the zone I am. I’d prep and cook lunch and then eat while watching Netflix maybe or even play a bit of Fortnite or Paladins until about 1:00 P.M. At this point, I’m pretty certain to be quite sleepy so it’s either I make coffee or tea, or maybe even go out to study at a coffee shop, and then it’s study all the way until 7 P.M. I then take a break to get some exercise, take a shower, have a light dinner, and if I feel like I deserve it, nap for a little bit. At around 8:30, my family usually calls and then we pray the rosary together. After this, I study again, but more of a recall and review session for the day’s progress until about 11:30. I then have my night self-care routine and then go to sleep around midnight. 

The main takeaway from the previous paragraph? “Ideally.”

During the first few days of setting up my schedule or routine, following it was already challenging, but still doable. But then the backlogs started piling up and no matter how much I tried to streamline the whole study process, I just couldn’t keep up. I did what I could to follow study habits and schedules, but the setup was falling apart. And you know what? That was okay. 

Normally, my type A self would have been so frustrated already with how poorly I was handling my review season. Admittedly, there were a few meltdowns and anxiety attacks as the exam drew nearer, but for the most part, I just let things happen as they did. I still adjusted, sure, but I wasn’t hard on myself for always having to. I kept changing goals when I didn’t meet them (which was probably 80% of the time). There were even instances where I’d finish a handout and then I’d say that okay, I’ll watch an episode for a reward, but that episode became the entire season. While I considered myself to be the most chill reviewee, I also thought I was the worst because I refused to give up any of my wants for my needs. I resisted, of course, but then they’d bug me the entire time I was studying so instead of staying productive, I’d just annoy the hell out of myself. I was probably just lazy and stubborn. LOL. Long story, short, it was a constant battle. 

There were times when I felt confident enough to power through the whole thing. I enjoyed the whole process of studying, actually. Making notes and my own ways of memorizing things was fun. I made use of different study strategies, self-checks, and motivational boosters (more on these on a different post). Aside from these, having review-mates who were just a chat away made things bearable. Breakdown session muna tas aral na ulit. And how could I forget all my sweet friends who would send over coffee ayuda every now and then? To me, passing the boards, while mainly should be for oneself and one’s self-actualization, is also about not letting down these people who have been with you throughout your journey. 

But it wasn’t always a hyped-90s-movie-transformation-montage kind of environment. Other times, I was just worn out and dejected by my lack of progress. In the already meager time I had to study, I still had plenty of off-days. Concepts just wouldn’t stick and it was disappointing how I’d already forgotten what I just read a couple days ago. It got really tiring even if I was staying indoors all the time. I missed the comfort of coffee shops and the company of study buddies. I missed my family. I wanted to hug our dog. There were days when I couldn’t even bring myself to make coffee and open my notes. I even reached a point where I was sure that I wouldn’t finish reading all the material. (I kid you not, I have handouts I never got to open.) 

Yet here I am. Here I am writing about how I survived all that and got those two letters attached to my name. I am not a good example, obviously. There are hundreds better than me and you probably should be taking advice from them instead. I’m simply writing this to tell you that you don’t have to worry. This is all just to ease your anxieties about the PLE. I’m not saying it’s an easy feat that you can just achieve just like that. While I seemed rather complacent, I still put in the work, after all. Admittedly, I know I could have done more, but again, I’m not going to dwell on that anymore. It’s done. 

My goal in writing this is to let you know, my dear future doctor, that you’re going to be just fine. Here’s someone who understands the huge disconnect that stemmed from being a pandemic e-ntern. Here’s someone who’s always been doubtful and full of anxieties about the PLE even before she filed her application at the PRC. Here’s someone who constantly prayed that the PLE be moved even for just a month (or kahit two weeks lang masaya na ako nun) up to the week before the exam along with a rising number of cases. Here’s someone who barely has the capability to maintain focus for more than an hour. Here’s someone whose reading pace was literally at 10 minutes per page (yes, I actually timed it and IDK if that’s slow or really slow). Here’s someone who still allowed herself to study at coffee shops and even have samgyup (with proper health protocols, of course) even if she knew she was drowning in backlogs. 

My point is that if I managed to pass despite all that, you can, too. My close friends know that I developed a rather funny mentality to ease the jitters as the boards drew nearer. I knew and claimed it for myself that I would already pass. I viewed the whole PLE as just a “formality”--a means for His plans of me becoming a doctor to manifest in this realm. I believed it so much to the point that I thought that no matter what bloopers and slip-ups I have during the test, I’d still see my name on the list of board passers. I’m not saying you should totally ease up and just have a come-what-may attitude. Again, I’m not the model student you should be following here. What I’m saying is to have faith in yourself, your capabilities, and in God. So chin up, Doc. Just a little more ‘til you get to legally practice with that MD at the end of your name.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 8th August 2021

Touching Base

The 8th of the 8th, that was our ‘son’s’ birthdate. Our son being Charlie, the first pet that Crow and I had together. A gorgeous looking liver and white English Springer Spaniel, who was an absolute mad cap until he turned two and calmed down. Very intelligent and obedient when he decided he would be and very loving. He was a huge character and a massive joy in our lives - just like our actual, human children are.

It hurt so much when we lost him that we never had another dog.

our son in Mexican mode

The girls had rabbits when they were young and there was the famous occasion when Ms NW tY smuggled mice into the house despite knowing my total aversion to them. Dennis ended up with us for a long, long time, and a succession of various foster cats along the way...despite not being ‘cat people’ AT ALL, but from here-on-in, we really don’t want to be responsible for a bonefide full time pet, so we stick to the outdoor wildlife and put our energies into them. Speaking of them, latest news is that I saw a Wood Pigeon fly in to the Wisteria a couple of days ago, so I must go and check and yesterday we discovered that Pritchard likes radishes. Crow’s just told me that he’s also had some left over ratatouille. So there you go. If we ever opened a bistro (we won’t) I think we’d call it Pritchard’s!

The Lord High Admiral, Sir Dennis Horatio Amazing Wonder Cat of Bradshaw following his ‘drive-by knighting’ when HM Queen was enroute to a visit to Newhaven Port, 31 October 2013 - which by sheer coincidence happened to be his allocated birthday. How fortuitous! **no pictures please**

At this juncture I have to clarify that the above visit was factual, however, our home is not actually enroute. The story I have told is accurate as I recall from the information given to me by Crow, who may (possibly) be prone to occasional flights of fantasy - not least the Bradshaw part of his nibs’ title, which is in homage to the Bradshaw Railway Guides. A modern copy of this book has pride of place on our bookcase in memorium - not to George Bradshaw obviously, but to our own Head of Transport and (Non) Communications. Miss him too.

As per usual I have digressed, so speaking of Ms NW tY, as I was, we saw her on Friday - twice in two weeks hey?  She commented that we’re being enveloped in greenery and so I had to explain about the Pigeon nest and about not disturbing the hedges and trees and shrubs that need hacking back until we’re sure nesting is over.

As I write (from upstairs) a new juvenile Robin has just flown on to the roof. I know it’s new because the ones I’ve seen around the last few days all have the start of their red breasts and this one doesn’t at all. 

I got a few photos of birds in the rain. This Robin was enjoying seed from the dish of the bullrush fat ball feeder. Because we’ve had it wrecked so many times by either Starlings, Jackdaws or the Squirrels, every now and then we take it away and just leave a bit of seed on top. The Robins find it easier to perch on there.

We’ve got some more fledglings

We’d been watching babies being fed and wandering around the decking looking a bit lost. I’d assumed they were Sparrows, but looking at these, are they Dunnocks I wonder? That would be nice and we do have a healthy population of adults here.

UPDATE: My Nature Guru confirms that they are House Sparrows. So I’m no wiser about what the Dunnocks have been up to (or not)

The chirping from the side nest box is getting stronger and stronger. We can hear the nestlings through double glazed windows and over the noise of the TV. I have no idea how long they’ve been so vocal and when they may fledge.

I’ve got to admit I’ve really lost track of time. Friday was a complete haze and there was a reason for Ms NW’s presence. Everything was going ok and then Crow had another medical episode and we had to call an ambulance again. I’ve had more men in my bedroom this past 17 weeks than the rest of my life added together! Better news in that he was discharged after another raft of tests, but he’s still awaiting a face to face consultation from the first problem back in March. Apparently he’s a mystery as his MRI didn’t offer any answers. A medical mystery and not for the first time either. Family and neighbours rallied around and we’re both really grateful for all their love and support.

I’m going to be wrapping him in bubble wrap for the foreseeable.

Wet! Wet! Wet! The weather has been pretty appalling. Pritchard finds shelter under the Hazel.

I’m keeping my eyes peeled for this little one above. I’ve not seen growths like that in such a position before. Early stage Avian Pox?

The Olympics Tokyo ends today. This is the medal table this morning, whatever few results are still due in, the top ten aren’t going to be affected apparently. If they are, I can update the graphic.

There you are, a bit of a mixed bag, but you can see why I’m otherwise engaged lately. Forgive any errors, I’m not much in the mood for proof reading and if I were to read back, I’d be deleting half of this at least. That would be a shame as if nothing else, it serves as a good diary for me, because time’s running away with me and I’ll never have a fair picture of what’s happened this past 18 months if I don’t have something tangible to look back on.

Signing off now to head for the kitchen and more gloomy news about rain and no cricket. Take care.

[theastrophilearchitect]

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWB 1x04: The Wrong End of a Telescope - Analysis

So, I really loved this episode of TWB as well. Lots of good stuff in it.

Early on, the call the CRM the “hidden city.” I was really glad they said that because it further proves our Avalon theory. (Read HERE.)

There was more talk of luck and being lucky in this episode as well. The group gets to a high school and decides to go in, both to get out of the rain and to scavenge for supplies. 

They end up dividing into three groups: Huck and Hope, Felix and Elton, Iris and Silas.

With Felix and Elton, they happen upon some iodine, and Elton calls it the “Holy Grail of water purification.” So, water theme. They also come upon a walker who’s stuck in a locker. (That rhymes, hehe.) But it’s actually locked into the locker with a padlock. It makes Elton claustrophobic and we some flashes of his past, though they’re not entirely clear yet.

I think this is an important theme, though. The walker is imprisoned and can’t get out. Felix couldn’t get it out if he’d wanted to because it was locked in, and he didn’t have a key. So key and lock theories, imprisonment, etc. At one point, we even saw Felix picking a lock, so it was there a lot.

It also becomes clear that there’s an animal, a predator, in the high school. We see it drag a walker away and hear it growling. As it turns out, it’s a wolf, living in the vacant school. Sirius Still feels, no? The first thing I thought of was the Up the Wolves song from Still and the idea of Beth being the mother wolf.

And get this: Huck and Hope are the ones who see it. They are looking at it (from behind a door) and decide it’s acting weird. It’s not pacing around or really trying to attack them or running away. It’s standing in the doorway like a sentinel. Huck apparently knows a thing or two about wolves and says it’s probably protecting it’s young.

So, we have a mother wolf protecting its children in a school with yellow walls and lots of water jugs. Hmmm.

The other thing is that Hope took a lesson from Huck and the wolf and applied it to her father. (We also get flashbacks of Hope arguing with her father in this episode, before he left with the CRM. He tells her some things that at first seem pretty innocuous, but also make me think she might be special in some way. We’ll have to wait to find out how/why.)

Anyway, Huck says sometimes you think you’re reading a situation right, but really there’s a lot going on you don’t know about. She said this in reference to the wolf. It wasn’t really out to get them; just protecting it’s young. And Hope took that and applied it to herself saying perhaps she’d totally misunderstood her dad all those years and there was a lot more going on than she knew.

So, for me, the line about being a lot more going on that you’re not seeing could apply to Beth and TD, no? But also, the fact that Hope applied it to her dad gives me hope that maybe Beth’s story will, as we’ve theorized, be tangled up with the father and his research in some way. I can’t help but compare him to Dr. Edwards, who was also a research doctor.

Also, side note: Hope is SUPER smart. Like her dad. She knows about chemistry and how to build chemicals and compounds and such. Pretty cool.

Now let’s talk about Iris and Silas. It has crossed my mind in earlier episodes that they might become love interests at some point, but it wasn’t clear, so I truly wasn’t sure if that’s where it was going.

As of this episode, it’s VERY clear there will be romance between them. Why? Because of all the Beth/Daryl parallels.

The two of them get locked in a gym together for a short time before getting out again. The dialogue and vibe was very Bethyl. First, Iris, who love art but hasn’t been pursuing it in past years, picks up paintbrushes. Then she gets embarrassed and says they aren’t essential. But he says they’re essential to her and puts them in her bag. So he’s supporting her in her art. Reminded me a lot of Daryl telling Beth to sing.

The dialogue wasn’t word for word in this case, but had a lot of the same meaning. For example, Silas says Iris is different now, being a leader. She says, “I’m trying.” And he replies, “you are.” So, we have parallels to both the line where Beth said she wished she could just change, and Daryl said she did. And also to when Beth said Daryl got away from his past. When he denies it, she says, “you did.”

Silas also opened up to Iris about the negativity in his head and how he can’t escape it on the inside. But “out here” he doesn’t hear the negative voices. It reminded me of Aaron and Daryl talking about how Daryl sometimes needed to be “out here” in 5b, with Buttons.

There was also a “you okay?” exchange, kind of like Bethyl in Beth’s cell in 4x01.

There were signs all over the school for a Sadie Hawkins dance. They made a funny joke in which neither of the kids had heard of it and assumed it was the name of a girl who went to the school. My high school did the Sadie Hawkins dance, but all I really know about it is that it was girl’s choice and less formal than prom. But I wondered if there was more to the symbolism here, because the signs for it were EVERYWHERE and it was really emphasized. So I looked it up. Look what I found:

I think the emphasis of the girl’s choice is important, especially as we’re dealing with romance here and in both cases—Beth and Iris—the girl really reached out to the guy, rather than vise versa, and helped him come out of his shell and open up to her.

Also, notice the dog reference (Dogpatch) in where the Sadie Hawkins dance originated from. I’m kinda thinking that’s why the writers chose it rather than just doing a prom theme. It has canine roots! ;D Also reminds me of the “dog trot” in Still.

They also shared “green soda.” Obviously the green thing, but Silas just randomly found it and Iris really liked it. I feel like this was the teenaged version of Beth and Daryl’s moonshine.

There was a really adorable moment when Iris and Silas danced together to music. Obviously the music gave me Bethyl vibes. There wasn’t really any dance themes around Beth and Daryl in particular, but I couldn’t help but think of his line about singing out in public. Most of his other “I Nevers” have since come true in some way, and I’ve long suspected that, at some point, he and Beth will sing together in some capacity.

I have no idea what that will look like, but Iris and Silas dancing felt like some version of that. He kept objecting that he didn’t know how to dance, but she talked him into it and they figured it out together and were laughing and smiling and having fun. Yeah, I ship it. ;D

The next thing I noticed has to do with the Pink Theory. This episode did this thing where they kept showing flashbacks. Not of the man characters per se but of the school before the apocalypse hit. So, it would show kids walking through the halls, dancing at school dances, having fun, etc. And it kind of zeroed in on one girl who was very happy and somewhat popular. Lots of people talking to her, taking her picture, etc. She was very happy. And she had pink hair. The significance of that didn’t hit me until about halfway through.

We even saw a guy at her high school smile at her, as though there might be some romance blooming there.

Iris sees a picture of this same girl in a yearbook. The caption says, “most likely to march to the beat of her own drum.” That made me think of Beth because 1) pink hair 2) drum = music reference and 3) Beth definitely marched to the beat of her own drum, taking a different path than the rest of the group and kind of existing outside the main story line.

At the very end, we see a walker with pink hair. It’s obviously supposed to be her. So, it’s sad, because she died in the school. Symbol-wise, I do think she represents Beth. She was a teenager (18), enjoying her life and romance was perhaps even blooming for her, when everything was cut short. She was sort of like the sacrificial lamb.

And then we have that wolf image. I feel like they’re hinting at the death of the lamb and birth of the wolf, here. And this works for these characters too as they grow and mature and leave their innocence behind. So, pretty potent—not to mention biblical—symbolism here. The lamb and the wolf are mentioned together often, especially in the book of Isaiah. 

Hope and Huck find foodie supplies and there’s all kinds of symbolic goodness here. Pretty sure there’s some peanut butter on the shelf, Huck grabs sardines, which are a type of fish. 

There’s a walker with a missing leg that got caught in a grate (missing foot symbolism). At one point, Silas finds a flare, which is sitting right next to a water jug. (Lots of those in the school, too.)

So, interestingly, we had the pink theme in both FTWD and TWB this week. (FTWD = Rich Bitch walker and TWB = pink haired Beth proxy.) We also saw flares lit in both. One by Al on the roof of the office building and one by Silas in the school.

Silas has an anger moment, lashes out, and accidentally hurts Elton. He gets depressed about it and wants to be left behind, but once again, Iris reaches out to him and helps him work through it. And they all leave together at the end.

Then there’s the coda. Yes, this episode had a coda. There weren’t any SUPER obvious Beth ties, but we saw “test subjects” being experimented upon. 

So this obviously has something to do with the girls’ dad and where they’re going. But any after-the-credits-coda I can’t help but link to Beth. And then there’s the bite/cure theory. So I’m definitely side-eyeing this. The woman we see doing the tests calls them “Test Subjects” just as Jenner did in Season 1 of TWD. Very interesting.