#if i finish the story proper i may put it up for reading. i am not sure

[companionwolf]

starry

[You sent 3 prompts, but I used them together, so I will answer this ask only.]

Context for the writing I've done-- the story overall is somewhat inspired by Delta Green as a setting and lore-wise. It is cosmic horror, but this prompt fill does not really include that at all.

This piece happens between when December first approached the Yearlings and his first mission with them. I hope this will make sense.

Warnings -- none I can think of.

1. starry + 21. chain + 44. beloved

The late evening is cold, brightened by the moonlight and occasional lamp glow that reflects off the layer of snow blanketing the world, giving it an eerie luminescence.

December shivers, breath billowing out through the scarf he has wrapped around his neck and lower face. Even with his winter coat, he struggles when it's cold. He's never done well in lower temperature; he can feel the tips of his ears going numb as they're exposed to wind.

He had little choice, needed to come to the base now, when it's dark and the weather's turned toward chill and dry. There'd be too many questions if he chose any other time earlier.

Still, the sky is starry between the breaks in the clouds. For a moment December stares up at them, forgets what he's doing, what he's chosen.

Then a wind gust buffets him, and he continues on.

Unlike the first time he approached the abandoned storefront, he's prepared. He knocks the right pattern on the door; there is a muffled sound of a bolt unlocking, and the face of the older woman he knows as June appears.

"Hello, Ember," she says.

"Hi," he says.

"They've been anxious to meet you," she says, as he comes in, exhaling slightly as the warmth of the crackling fireplace washes over him.

June moves to close the door and lock it back up; December turns to face her after a quick glance around the makeshift front living area -- nothing's changed much since the last time he was here. He can hear the quiet footsteps of others moving around upstairs; at least two or three people, maybe even more than that.

"Who all is here?" he asks.

Someone else behind him, near where he knows the living area opens into a hallway that leads to a few other rooms-- "The full first third of the Yearlings, June, and of course, you and me."

December whirls around to see the grinning face of October. The other is leaning against the frame of the threshold, holding a Styrofoam cup. He gives them a wave, and they raise the cup at him in greeting back. "January and March really appreciate the sugar and stuff you got," they say.

They straighten up, come toward him. He crosses the room and meets them in the middle. The two look each other over; October's hair is tied back, their eyes with slight dark circles under them. Their smile is bright as ever, though.

"Wow," they say, "you look like shit."

December frowns. "I haven't slept well."

"Hey, neither have I-- but that means you're more than prepared for all the not sleeping we'll be having you do," October says, laughing.

December isn't sure if he finds that very funny, but their laugh is somewhat infectious so he's not entirely shocked when he laughs along.

"So they're here?" he asks, politely stepping out of the way briefly as June moves past the pair into the hallway behind them. October nods.

"They'll be down shortly," the other says.

"Tell me about them," December says. "What should I expect? I'm kinda nervous, honestly."

October looks thoughtful.

"January's nice. A little slow, but he's good at being thorough," they say finally. "March... is a big nerd, prefers technology to people but will talk your ear off if you're interested in its work. April's a ass, but she means well and she's good at her job. February..." They trail off.

"Yeah?"

October sips their coffee. "You'll see," they say.

December doesn't like the sound of that.

The other leads him to sit down on the couches near the fireplace, asks if he'd like something to drink. For a second December considers it--

He shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks."

October shrugs, goes and grabs a bottle of something and pours right into their half drunk coffee. December stares bewilderedly at them.

"Those-- alcohol and coffee--"

"Making weird drinks-- it'll happen to you!" they answer as they take a swig, then sputter and spits it out instantly. "Fuck, oh my god," they manage through coughing, "that is so bad."

"October, whatever you're doing, stop it," says a voice December doesn't recognize as four people step into the room from the hallway, one after another like links in a chain, like months on a calender. That's me too now, he thinks. I hope.

Does he hope? He isn't entirely certain.

In any case, these must be the first third of the Yearlings. The tallest of them, with black hair and tired eyes, looks over at October and shakes her head. "Honestly, you're like a untrained dog."

"Woof," replies October.

Demcber stands, steps toward the four. The shortest nods at him. "Hi," he says. "I'm January."

"Nice to meet you," answers December, and then finds himself hesitating under the gaze of the orher two people-- one, with a shock of white hair, is giving him a once over from behind half rim glasses. The other, with a undercut, has their arms crossed and is glancing him up and down.

The tallest steps forward, extends her hand.

"April," she says. "You're the new one."

It's not a question. December nods, swallows his anxiety. "Yes," he says. "I'm the new one."

April frowns, doesn't say anything else.

The one with the glasses tips its head slightly. "October told us you're here for revenge," it says.

December gives October a confused look.

"I said I wanted to protect people," he says.

The other shrugs.

"That's a form of revenge in my book-- getting back at the shit by never letting it happen again," they say befor taking the tiniest sip of their drink again; they gag-- April rolls her eyes at them.

"I'm March," says the one with the white hair. December reaches to shake its hand; it makes a face. "Please do not touch me, ever. Thanks."

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

January smiles at him, at March.

"It'll be nice to have more people around here," he says. "I miss July and August." His smile flickers out. "I miss them a lot."

March's face softens a little. "We know, Jan."

The person with the undercut still hasn't spoken. October raises an eyebrow at them. "February?"

"I give him 3 months," says February, before turning and heading back the way they came.

December stands there, blinking. "Wait--"

April sighs.

"Don't take it personally," she says to him. "They're like that with everyone. Really, three is a good number-- means they think you'll last a bit."

"That's still not a very long time," December says.

"Oh, you'll change your mind once you get into the shit proper," says October, much too bright.

January nods at their words. "You'll either hard boil or crack," he says. Then he looks at March. "Because -- because of eggs. He's a baby."

March gives January a look that lingers somewhere between exasperated and amused. "Yes, I get it," it says to him. "Very good, Jan."

To December, it adds, "You can leave anytime you want. Remember that." It grins then, but the smile isn't a warm or kind thing. "Try to figure out if you want to stay sooner rather than later."

"Thanks?" December's looking at October helplessly; they're frowning into their wine coffee monstrosity and not paying him any attention.

March takes January by the arm and disappears the way Febuary went, leaving only April standing with October and December. She's grimacing at the former as they tip their head and shotgun the contents of their cup.

"You're going to die," she tells them.

"Only by my own hands," they say back through coughs.

April shakes her head at them "You can only hope," she answers.

December looks between them and then back toward where the other Yearlings vanished. "So does that mean I'm officially in?" he asks finally.

October's still sputtering, so it's April who replies. "Yes," she says. "I'd wish you congratulations, but that'd be insincere."

She tucks a lock of hair in her face back behind her ear. "It's going to get worse out there," she says, nodding toward the blacked out windows. "Are you going to go home now or...?"

Before he can answer, October manages, "No! He'll die! And that'd be anticlimatic so instead we're hanging out! Yearling bonding time!"

"And who is we?" April is bemused.

"Uh, well, March and Jan are their own beloveds, June's busy and February is a dick, so who do you think?" October beams at them; April sighs.

"Fine," she says.

She motions for both of them to follow; October grabs at his hand, asking if he likes board games. December finds himself smiling at them.

It's almost enough to forget why he came, what he's gotten into, what all of this is in the end.

Almost.

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[charles-leclerc-official]

2024 Imola Grand Prix Race Analysis

My analysis of the Imola Grand Prix. This race on the surface was as some have claimed "boring" however when you dig into the data a different story emerges, one that promises more competition this season.

Table of Contents Race Overview Ferrari - Qualifying - Charles - Carlos - SF-24 Upgrades Red Bull - Max: vs Lando - Sergio Mclaren - Lando - Oscar Williams Mercedes VCARB Aston Martin Data Analysis Final Thoughts

Race Overview

This race was interesting in the terms of what we learned about the Ferrari and Mclaren upgrades as well as the RB-20. However the race as a whole was mostly uneventful. To put it simply this race was decided in qualifying. Especially at the top of the field. Max’s race was decided there, same with Lando, Charles, Carlos and Oscar. They were close enough in pace that had any one of them been ahead in qualifying that would have likely meant they kept that higher place, or had the win. I’ll go into a little more detail in the team sections, but overall this race was the one where qualifying mattered the most so far this season. 

Because the top three teams were very close this race in terms of pace I wanted to just lump the data analysis into one section instead of making it team specific, that way it’s just easier to read and it didn’t make sense to split it up because one comparison is informing another etc. So team sections as usual, and then data for all of them at the end.

I want to emphasize just how close the top three teams are. Especially Ferrari and Mclaren(again more in data section). The results may not feel like they reflect this, but trust me, the margins are finer than they have been all year. One team is not poised to run away with all the top points. Even Red Bull, while Max is still Max, Checo's performance and the overall performance of the RB20 this weekend showed that the car is not as dominant as previously thought.

Ferrari

Charles qualified P4 and finished P3(after Oscar’s grid penalty) so he started the race in P3 and finished there as well. Carlos qualified P5, moved up to P4 on the starting grid after Oscar’s penalty, and finished P5.

As I predicted the Ferrari strategy this race was pretty straightforward. Charles was supposed to try to catch Lando, while Carlos held off Oscar. It went smoothly and while Charles was not able to catch Lando because their pace was very similar, Carlos did hold off Oscar the entire medium stint. He only lost that place to Oscar when he was undercut in the pits. And even though he did lose the place there that was important because it kept Oscar from putting any pressure on Charles early on. So overall Ferrari strategy was good and they made the correct calls. It just was unlucky with the pit timing. That happens. So overall I am happy with the Ferrari strategy this race.

The biggest thing for Ferrari is now Charles is P2 in the WDC standings, it is early in the season but that is still exciting. This is due to him out-qualifying Checo, which apparently wasn’t that hard to do this race, but we take the win on that. Ferrari and specifically Charles’ consistency is really paying off both in the WDC standings and the WCC. 

Qualifying

Ferrari had issues of getting up to proper speed in qualifying, a problem that was especially costly in Q3. Many have claimed that this was a result of failing to warm up the tyres on the outlap. However that isn't the whole story. Ferrari had a different power deployment approach compared to Mclaren and Red Bull, and that was the cause in the lack of speed going into the lap. Lower speeds would affect the driver's tyre prep. So yes their tyres were not in the right window, but it was not due to the previous warming issues we have seen from the SF-24. Both drivers also struggled with speed on the outlap. Carlos had more issues but Charles was also affected. Ferrari have identified where they made a miscalculation in this area and seem confident they can improve and avoid this in future races.

Now the team has not been very specific about this with regards to the power deployment. So there aren't a lot of answers to be had there. But the statement from Fred and Charles suggest this wasn’t an issue with the upgrades or tyre warming directly, and as I said they seem confident it’s an easier fix.

Impeding during qualifying rumors: I have already discussed the possibility that Carlos impeded Charles’ Q3 outlap thus compromising Charles’ Q3 run extensively on this blog. I will recap quickly because I do not want to re-hash everything again. So I am going to keep it short. There is no evidence this happened. People made the claim and it spread. Charles and Carlos were not close enough on the track for impeding to be possible. If anyone has any real proof I’d be interested in seeing it, but I have been sent a lot of fake proof already and I doubt that is about to change. Don’t believe something just because everyone is saying it, ask for evidence.  Yes they both were noted for failing to keep proper deltas in the same outlap, but that is not proof that the cause of that for Charles was Carlos.  And I have seen the claim it cost 3 tenths. I don’t know where this number came from, but again, I am not seeing where in the data this assumption is coming from.  Charles would have mentioned something in post qualifying interviews if the outlaps were a problem. He might not have pointed at Carlos, but when asked what they could have done better he at the very least would have said they could have done a better outlap etc. He didn't, he said that was all they could get out of that session and that the appearance of qualifying looking lackluster was that the others were faster, not that his outlap was compromised.  I understand some people do not like Carlos and will not give him the benefit of the doubt but this was so far beyond insane. I am by admission not his biggest fan, but I need to see proof that he made an error to properly critique it, otherwise it’s just a conspiracy theory.  I find that this kind of thing spread so widely and so many people believed the claim at face value without seeing any kind of proof to be far more concerning than the claim itself. Ask for sources, look to see if any footage supports a claim, and if there is no proof then it should not be spread. Period. You can think what you want privately all you want. The next time something like this happens please think critically, I am begging.  If new evidence on this issue comes to light I will address it, otherwise it’s past time to move on.

Charles

Charles ran a clean race. He didn’t have the extra pace to be able to catch Lando. They were very close in pace, so it was not going to be possible. I’ll discuss more in the data section. But Charles held the podium spot which is what we wanted to see. First podium for Ferrari at Imola since 2006, so it was a very special moment for the team.

Carlos

Also ran a pretty clean race. He was less comfortable in the car all weekend, especially during the race, however he was still able to hold off Oscar. So I am very happy with his performance and role in the team strategy this weekend. He didn’t lose the place to an overtake, he lost it in the pits and that came down to being undercut by Mclaren, not much he could have done. So as far as driving goes he was solid and did exactly what he was supposed to do in terms of the team strategy. 

SF-24 Upgrades!

The most exciting thing this weekend was that Ferrari finally brought their first upgrades to the SF-24. These upgrades were aimed at improving pace, and targeted some issues the base SF-24 has been mitigating. These upgrades were overall a good step forward and continue to take Ferrari in a competitive direction. 

I will say that this track wasn’t the best for these upgrades and I think we need a few races to fully judge the true performance of these upgrades, so understand that there may be issues or more more gains that we didn’t see this weekend. I suspect that there is more pace in that car. 

SF-24 Upgrade Improvements:

Tyre warming: the upgrade did target and significantly helped the tyre warming prep issue we have seen give very mixed results in terms of qualifying and even some races. 

Low speed corners: Ferrari are now faster than Mclaren on low speed corners, and previously Mclaren were faster in this area. A very positive sign. 

Comfortability for Charles: This is important as he is ahead in the standings and he is the future of the team. They said the upgrades would target his driving style and it seems they have.

Reduced downforce for better straight line speed: The reduction in downforce did improve our straight line speed, that isn’t as clear when compared to Mclaren who have taken a bigger step forward in that department, but this was an improvement on the base we had.

Areas Ferrari Still needs to Target:

Ferrari are in a good place. They could change nothing about the race pace of the current upgraded car and with track position it would very likely be a win. However there are always things to improve beyond just qualifying. 

Biggest thing is still qualifying pace. We took a pretty good step forward in this area, but Mclaren did as well, so we didn’t feel the gain as much as we might have otherwise. However I think we are much closer to getting this worked out. It isn’t so much a tyre warming issue as it is a settings issue. The upgrades mitigated a lot of the tyre warming, it was there yes but nowhere near what we’ve been seeing in earlier races. 

Straight line speed: It’s good, and in some places it’s competitive or right on pace with Mclaren, however ideally we want to be faster, so that is an area to target for improvement. Improved straights would also lead to better high speed corner performance as well. Make no mistake the car did take a step forward in this area, but Mclaren did to so the improvement doesn't feel as significant when looking at the results.

These two should be the primary focus, as well as any adjustments for Charles to get the car to a point of balance that he likes. 

“The upgrades were bad Carlos said he wasn’t comfortable”: Ferrari has made it clear from the beginning that upgrades and the direction of the team would favor Charles. This isn’t surprising and is expected since Charles and Carlos have very different driving styles and preferences. Carlos still was able to keep ahead of Oscar as needed so even less comfortable he was able to do his job. It is not possible to have these upgrades suit both drivers, Charles is the one they are focused on. You can feel however you want to feel about that, but these results in terms of different feedback from the drivers goes support exactly what Ferrari have said they would do.

“The upgrades were bad, we weren't fast”: No, the upgrades added pace in key areas and directly helped issues the base SF-24 had. Mclaren also upgraded their car so that doesn’t mean the Ferrari isn’t good.

“Ferrari promised more pace”: We saw about 2/10ths added in pace this weekend. However this track was not suited to the car overall. I think we need to see a few races before we can accurately judge how much pace was actually added. This much on a less than optimal track is encouraging. 

“The upgrades didn’t do anything”: They did, I’m sorry they didn’t add 20 seconds to the car and make it start flying, that’s not how this works. We saw tangible improvements. There was more at play in the race results, so you cannot judge if the car is good or bad based on that alone. 

“I am disappointed and feel misled by Ferrari about these upgrades”: The upgrades were never a magic bullet, they did a lot of what they promised and it’s the first race with them. Give them some time.

“Tyre warming was a problem again”: No, in fact Charles confirmed this himself in one of his post-race interviews. The problem was more connected to power deployment on the out lap, and this caused the tyre prep to not be as good, but it was not the tyre warming issue we have been seeing in the first 6 races.

Overall a good race for Ferrari. Excited to see what the SF-24 will do in future races!

Red Bull

Red Bull had a very mixed weekend. Between Max not being fully comfortable in the car, and still not having great settings come race day, to Checo getting knocked out of Q3, this weekend showed quite a few cracks in the Red Bull armor. Max still won, and in sub-optimal conditions for him in that car, so even if the RB20 is not perfect for him he proved he can still put it on pole and he can still win. Which of course is going to mean that Red Bull are still competitive even if the car itself isn't the fastest on the field.

Checo's performance was his weakest thus far. That was the worst qualifying performance we've seen from a Red Bull all year. It was out-competed by Yuki in the junior team car. And again this is what cost him P2 in the standings to Charles.

Now on to the main thing everyone is talking about as far as Red Bull's race goes.

Max VS Lando

The big question at the end of this race “Was Lando going to catch Max?” In my opinion no he wasn’t. And even if he had caught up, I do not think he could have actually passed Max. Being fast is only one piece of the puzzle, to actually pass a top driver you need to be good at overtaking. Lando has yet to show me a quality overtake this season against one of the competitive cars in the field. In my opinion Max would have been able to hold him off, yes even struggling.

So was Lando matching Max on pure pace? Was it due to his speed? In part. There were three factors at play that led to him making some gains on Max in the final 10 laps.

The Mclaren upgrades have added good straight line speed

Lando was pushing at an unsustainable rate. He said so himself over the radio that he was at the limit.

Max was struggling with his tyres

So even with Max struggling with his car and the improved Mclaren Lando was unable to catch Max. If Max hadn’t been struggling that gap would have been larger. I do not think this means he will be seriously competitive with Max in every race they are close. If he couldn’t take Max in sub-optimal conditions for Max there is no way Lando is catching him when Max does have his car in the right window. 

I cover this more in the data section. But while he did make good gains on some laps by the final 5 he was not continuing to close that gap, which is what he would have needed to do to catch Max.

“But if Lando had a few more laps he would have caught Max”: I don’t think he had enough in the tyres to keep pushing at the rate he was to close the final gap. And as I said, I am not convinced he would have been able to overtake even if he’d closed the gap.

“Lando was better than Max”: I missed the part where he passed Max then I guess? He had to push to be faster and still couldn’t overtake a car on struggling tyres. If he’d had track position he probably would have stayed ahead. But since this race was decided in qualifying more than anything, and he did qualify behind his teammate(pre-penalty) he didn’t have the qualifying lap to get that place. He had a solid race, that’s good enough.

“X was better than X”: With the top 3 teams being so tight, especially with Charles, Lando, and Max being close on pace this isn’t really a helpful statement to make. Now there are moments when one was stronger and stood out? yes, but on overall performance it’s not clear cut. 

Lando was fast in that final stint and some of that was due to early good tyre management on his part, but the other part was that he was pushing hard. He didn’t have much left and I think if we’d had a few more laps the gap would have stayed the same or he would have dropped off on pace. It wasn’t sustainable. Nice to see a driver push, but you only push like that to make a pass quickly, it isn’t the kind of thing you can keep up forever until you catch another driver. 

Mclaren

This was Mclaren’s best result thus far for both drivers. They have had better positions, however a P2 and P4 is better than the 3-4 from Australia. And of course While Lando won in Miami, Oscar didn’t finish in the points. So as far as placement for the team as a whole goes this was best.

Now it wasn’t perfect. The results and speed I think were a little deceptive and made them look more competitive than they are in reality compared to the other top two teams. The success was mostly due to the straight line speed that their upgrades provided. Oscar seemed like he was the faster of the two with the full upgrade package, which would track given his performance in Miami with only the partial package. But again we didn’t get to see him with that front row start. I do suspect this trend will continue.

Lando

Lando qualified P3, jumped to P2 when Oscar was penalized, and he finished P2. Same story as the other top 3. 

Lando’s race was pretty standard until the last 10 laps of the race when he was pushing to try to catch Max. I explained above my opinions on that match-up, and will be covering the data in the data analysis section. 

It was a strong showing for him. But ultimately he did not have enough pace to fully close the gap to Max and I don’t think he would have given more laps. He was pushing too hard to sustain that pace and he was starting to make more mistakes. Max on the other hand was not.

Oscar

The biggest thing that affected Oscar’s race was the three place starting grid penalty he received for impeding Magnussen during qualifying. It was very clear, so a cut and dry penalty. His time qualified him P2 but he was dropped down to P5 behind Carlos. 

The impeding was really a failure of his team to let him know that Magnussen was coming. Unfortunate to see. Mclaren really fumbled that because they would have had their faster driver starting behind Max. 

And yes between the two Mclaren drivers I do believe Oscar is better suited in terms of overall racecraft to have made the pass on Max. He’s shown he can do it, and with these upgrades he is faster than Lando. We’ll have to see after a few more races if this remains to be true, but he has been more competitive this year when it comes to overtaking. 

He gained a place on Carlos in the pits. His pace was almost identical to Carlos', and Carlos was able to keep him behind. I am not sure how much of trying to avoid a repeat of Miami played a role in this. Carlos has shown he will fight to prevent a pass and that may have been in the back of Oscar and Mclaren’s minds. 

I have more on his pace comparison with Carlos in the data section. 

Williams

Another not great race for Williams. This time the car was slow, and also Alex’s pit crew messed up his pit stop, and didn’t properly attach one of his tyres. The team was penalized for this with a 10 second stop and go penalty for an unsafe release. By the time they had served that time Alex was two laps behind so they opted to retire from the race. 

Logan came in P17.

I don’t have much to say beyond that this season Williams as a team has repeatedly failed both their drivers costing them results. The car is as we have seen by now, not good. Alex is a good driver and is struggling in that car, and it has been so hard to judge if Logan has improved because the car hasn’t been helping us see that. 

Mercedes

The Mercedes upgrades do seem to have improved the performance and reliability for both drivers. Lewis especially seems to be far more comfortable in the car. Lewis started P8 and finished P6. Tied with his best finish for a Grand Prix of the season. George started P6 and finished P7. He lost one of those places to Lewis in the pits. 

Lewis and George were matched on pace on the medium tyres. But on the hards Lewis was noticeably more consistent on pace compared to George, who started losing pace on the hards after 10 laps. He did pit before Lewis. However Lewis maintained better pace on the same age tyres where George started to see a drop in performance. So Mercedes was right to keep Lewis ahead, he was the one with better pace this weekend. Overall they were very close, but Lewis had the edge especially on the hards.

Mercedes still is lacking quite a bit in the competitive speed category but they do seem to have taken a step forward, and Lewis is quickly making up points for the rocky start to his season. 

VCARB

Yuki had a great weekend. He qualified P7 in a very competitive field. And in the race he finished P10, losing places to Lewis, Lance, and Checo. Which was expected, especially the pass from Checo. Yuki is having the best season of his career and the fact he is closer to competing with top teams than the rest of the mid-field is impressive. He has been getting extra performance out of that VCARB car and is carrying his team in the standings. 

Danny started P9 and finished P13, losing places to Checo, both Haas cars, and Lance. Losing places to the Red Bull and Aston Martin were pretty expected. Would have liked to see him more competitive against the Haas cars. He’s going to need more points compared to Yuki to keep up with the team. 

Quick look comparing Yuki to Danny and Checo. You can see Checo was on pace with the two VCARBS during his first medium and his hard stint. Then on the second medium stint he flew away on pace again.

And comparing Danny and Yuki directly. They aren't so far off in overall speed. However what put Yuki ahead and kept him ahead was his consistency. Even his slower laps were less slow than Danny's. And Yuki was slightly faster, by multiple tenths in several places. They are matched on straight line speed(with Danny even being a little faster there) but on a complete lap Yuki was simply more consistent.

Aston Martin

Aston Martin did not have a great weekend. After a FP3 crash, and then losing grip in Q1 and doing a long run into the gravel he took damage and had to start the race from the pitlane. He started P20 from the pits and finished P19 and that was due to the fact Alex DNFed. So he didn’t make up any places. The Aston upgrades do not seem to have been a step in the right direction, at least for Fernando, and that isn’t going to be good for them in the standings as he is their stronger driver. 

Lance had one of his better races. Starting P13 and finishing P9. That’s fewer points than the team want to see in that car. The current competition for the team is VCARB and with Yuki’s performance they cannot just get by with 2 points this race. 

I’ll be interested to see if the team can further upgrade the car, because that qualifying pace was not great and the race pace is middling. They have the potential for a more competitive car but I am not convinced they are going to get it there. 

Data Analysis

And now the part everyone has been waiting for. Just how close are the top 3 teams?

This is going to be a lot of pace comparison. That was the name of the game this race for our top 3 teams. It’s the reason the race was “boring” by some people’s standards. Because they were all so close on pace no one was quite able to catch anyone else to make a pass.

Before we get to the data bear in mind a few things. 1. This was one of Mclaren's stronger tracks 2. This was one of Ferrari's weakest tracks 3. Red Bull was struggling on car settings for this race weekend So these results are going to be skewed in Mclaren's favor and it's not necessarily going to be accurate for future tracks. I think the margins are even closer(at least between Ferrari and Mclaren than this race and the resulting data suggest)

Max Vs Lando

First the full race pace. It’s pretty clear Max was faster on the mediums and then was close to Lando on the first half of his hard stint and then in the second half of his hard stint he dropped in pace. Max noted that it didn’t feel right, likely an issue with the car setup for the weekend, or a combination of the specific deg of the track and the temps and car not being ideal. I think the Mclaren was in a better performance window all weekend so that was reflected here. 

The thing that is most important here is those last few laps where Lando was fastest but the gap wasn't closing. He was dropping off in that faster pace at a similar rate to Max, which does support my claim that he had already gotten everything out of those tyres and with more laps his chances of catching Max were not as good as many sources have claimed.

Fastest Lap Comparison

This is where it gets interesting. We saw this same gap in straight line speed against the Ferraris and it’s present here too. Ferrari said that Mclaren were doing something “weird” to boost their straight line speed and yes, a gap like this raises questions. I don’t have an exact explanation. It is likely linked to engine settings and power unit/battery usage. The point is that this is not Lando being faster than Max, it’s very much the car doing that for him.

All of the points where Lando made his gains to Max were on the straights and high speed corners.

Track dominance to show that this is in fact all the straights and the high speed corners. The losses to Max were in the mid and low speed corners.

Now I want to point out that Lando was on older tyres compared to Max for this fastest lap comparison. He did drive early to preserve his tyres and then was seriously pushing on that lap when he tried to make gains to Max.

In equal tyre age Max was about 1/10th faster. His issue was with deg and grip at the end compared to Lando.

I will be interested to see the actual source of this new straight line speed(it may be they have sacrificed a lot more in downforce than we thought). A jump ahead this big is interesting. However it does mean that most of the Mclaren pace is coming from that straight line speed so on tracks with fewer straights and high speed corners they won’t fare quite as well compared to the Ferrari’s and Red Bulls because they are not faster on the low and mid speed corners, and weren’t all weekend. Every gain they made they lost in the corners. It is one of the reasons Max was able to stay ahead and Carlos was able to keep Oscar behind.

For all these fastest lap comparisons I am less interested in the actual lap time, and more so in the track dominance because that is where we are getting the story of where these cars are more competitive against each other.

Just to be fair here is the lap 38 track dominance for both Max and Lando, and here it is for lap 54 so that we are seeing both their best laps and seeing them on similarly aged tyres. And again we see the same pattern of the Mclaren being faster in the straights and the Red Bull taking the corners.

And again this is what I think matters most. Even on a lap where Lando was almost a full second faster than Max he still was not faster on those low speed corners, even with Max struggling. So I think these laps really serve to highlight where the speed and losses are coming from on both these cars.

It is safe to assume that on tracks that rely more heavily on mid to low speed corners and more frequent changes in direction Mclaren will not have the same advantages in speed we saw on this track.

Charles VS Lando

First race pace comparison

The medium stint is almost identical. And the beginning of the hard stint Charles is faster by a few tenths those first 15 laps after pitting. After that Lando gets a slight edge. Charles was pushing, and so was Lando. As you can see they were close. Closer on pace than Max and Lando. Again this really came down to track position. Lando wouldn't have caught Charles if he was ahead, and it's also why Charles couldn't catch Lando.

Fastest lap comparison

Note that Charles was on much newer tyres. Again I think what this really does is highlight key differences in the car performances. And this is most easily seen again in the track dominance map. The straight where Charles is faster here was due to DRS so ignore that.

But I want to compare their laps right out of the pits to account for tyre age, so here is the track dominance for both on the fresh set of hards. And also looking at both their lap 54 track dominance(this was Lando's fastest lap, and not that Charles also got DRS on the straight there)

On the new tyres Charles still has it on the lowest speed corners, and there are more points on the track where they are straight up equal. And again on lap 54 Charles again has those corners compared to Lando.

Now let's look at over all pace between Mclaren and Ferrari as well as fastest laps

You can see that there is no standout fastest car, the amount of overlap here is considerable. (Also the website made Carlos and Oscar both white lines, I know it's confusing but the website would not change it)

The slowest was Carlos and you can see him falling off the most at the end of the hard stint. But the thing I am really interested in is that medium stint overlap is crazy, especially between Charles, Lando and Oscar. And again we see almost identical pace in the first 10-15 laps on the hards.

Full track dominance. Again the biggest thing here is that Charles is ahead on those corners against both Oscar and Lando. Carlos also getting some good straight line speed coming out/going into the low speed corners which again is very promising.

Fastest lap comparison.

Charles and Oscar both had DRS at the start of the lap. The only thing here is just to show how close Charles is to the Mclarens. Even not having that top speed he is still there.

Quick comparison of Charles VS Oscar because I think this will come up in the future. While Oscar had the better qualifying lap his race pace was slightly worse than Charles almost the entire race. Charles was better on the mediums and the hards. There are some areas where they were close, but Charles also had a sizeable gap for a good chunk of laps especially on the hards.

Oscar is fast but he needs to work on his race pace if he wants to be able to catch cars and also not lose places, because looking at this Charles might have been in the window to overtake Oscar had Oscar been ahead.

Top 3 Comparison

So we have looked at teams and individual battles. However everyone has been talking about a triple head to head of Charles vs Lando vs Max. I think that's a bit overexcited. However I do want to look at the top three to see how close it is.

Race pace. Here Max is clearly ahead on the mediums. Then on the hards Charles and Lando are better. The biggest thing here is just the amount of overlap and the margins are very fine.

Again fastest lap. The tyre ages are very different. But again I am more interested in seeing the fastest laps these cars produced and where they did well compared to the others in terms of speed. Sector 2 is where Max started losing to both Charles and Lando, and sector three that gap increased more.

And what is more interesting is the track dominance.

This is what is promising when it comes to actually taking the fight to Max. This track was not great for overtaking, in fact it is a problem at Imola. On a track where overtaking is easier we are going to see more battles if this keeps up. Like the performance of the Ferrari and the Mclaren were better. The difference was Max in that car.

And to compare the same laps to Max's fastest lap we still see the same pattern.

And again corrected for tyre age.

I think this one is also interesting because it still shows that the Ferrari and Mclaren were by far the most dominant. And in all cases the Mclaren had most of the straight line speed, and the Ferrari had the low and mid speed corners but especially the low speed corners.

Now you could do this for every lap, and there are outliers. I picked laps I thought would show the trends we are seeing in these cars. It was difficult to correct for conditions. But you can see that there is a pattern here across multiple laps that's really the takeaway rather than any one lap in particular. Again I really think it was less about the drivers and more about the cars this weekend in particular.

So the big conclusion from this section is we learned something about all three top cars performance parameters. All teams have areas to improve. And the margins are fine. At this point in the season it is going to come down track position and skill.

I think that these next few races will likely reveal more pace or issues on all of these cars so this is really just the beginning. To see things competitive even when conditions were not great for Ferrari or Red Bull is exciting.

Final Thoughts

While there was minimal overtaking this race showed us some key information about the top three cars. And the rest of the season is looking more competitive with every race. It truly feels like we are on the brink of something this season.

That’s all I got, see you at Monaco!

[oddeyes588]

So... Lostbelt 6 part 2 is out and it's great! I haven't finished it yet but uh... I gotta address something. And it's this scene.

Good scene, right? Beautiful CG, some insight into the way Castoria thinks... but there's something wrong with this scene.

It's translated wrong.

Now if you're like me and you've been keeping up with fan translations for FGO, you may have realized this already, but this translation fundamentally misses the entire point of the scene.

This is what Castoria is supposed to be saying:

I don't want to see her. I don't want to be shown her. She's too much. I don't want to believe it. I don't want to acknowledge it.

After all.

She has no equal. Takes no refuge. No one who understands her. None who can comfort her.

She receives no reward. No goals. No rest. She cannot afford failure, not even a single mistake.

Ah—from the bottom of my heart, I think: "no."

Just how cruel must it be for everyone to smile and acknowledge a king like that?

Do you see the difference? This is a defining scene concerning Castoria's character. Something that sets her apart from every other iteration of Artoria that we've known so far (barring the Servantverse ones). Castoria sees the way of life that her PHH self chose and is repulsed. She can't stand to think about it. At first it seems like she's just buckling under the weight of those expectations, but in reality, Castoria just can't stand to see her.

She can't stand to see this other version of herself willingly throw away her humanity for the sake of an ideal. To give up her own happiness, to give up any chance of ever being understood, all to become a perfect king who the people will love and praise, but never truly understand.

It is a lonely existence, and like a certain redhead in Fate/Stay Night, she can't accept it. Who could bear to live like that? Who would want to live like that? Castoria wants nothing more than to be happy. She wants to make friends her age, eat sweets with them, go shopping with them and walk down the street while holding their hands. She wants to LIVE, and the thought of giving all of that up for the sake of everybody but yourself...

Noble? Sure. But it's mostly just tragic.

That's what this scene is about. Establishing exactly how Castoria feels about her Proper Human History self. She doesn't admire her, if anything it HURTS to see her, to know what she went through, to know what she did.

So WHY was it translated like this?

I'm the only one of my kind. I have nowhere to run. No one understands me. Romance is out of the question.

There's no reward. No finish line. no rest. I can't make so much as a single mistake.

Ahh... So many things I'll never have.

How cruel would I have to be for everyone to accept a king like me with a smile?

Listen, Castoria thinking of her own struggles in parallel to Saber's is interesting, and it isn't NOT there... but that isn't the point of the scene, and foregrounding it like this is uh...

It sure is a decision, that's for sure.

It's not necessarily bad, but it just doesn't fit due to the obvious reason that this isn't what the scene is supposed to be. This scene isn't Castoria seeing a vision of Saber and going "wow, how am I going to live up to this?" as if Saber's story is aspirational.

No. It's a tragedy, and what Castoria is actually thinking is "that's cruel and fucked up"

Anyways I just felt like putting this out there... and before anybody jumps down my throat about how the fan-translation could've been wrong... I did bring this up with a friend who can read Japanese and went to read the node in Japanese. While you could argue that because Caster and Artoria are acknowledged to be different versions of the same person, that Caster is using "I" to refer to the other, but the last line is just outright wrong. The scene is fundamentally about the cruelty of everyone around Saber placing an impossible burden on her, and how Castoria feels seeing that.

[merakiui]

I wrote this whole thing out already tbh but I accidentally reloaded my tab 😭 so I have to type it out again 💔. I'm sorry if the first one somehow sent already and you get this twice

But nono that is Absolutely an NBC dress!! I see the vision!! I am personally not as big of a Rollo fan but I DO think he is a fascinating little bug. I'm putting him in a little jar under a big ol' magnifying glass and observing him for forever. I like that Masquerade offered us a look at other mage schools and how they work, what villains they're based on, etc. I really appreciate him for that. I did actually really enjoy what we got to learn about him too. Fun stuff! Love Masquerade.

AAAA fashion and eel blessings! I'm so honored :D!! Tbh Floyd has always been much much kinder in gacha than his brother ever has been,, so even tho I loved Jade first maybe I should give that other eel his proper chance. Since he seems to love my keys so much lol

I totally forgive on the forgetting to answer tho it's okay 😭!! These asks get very long. It's bound to happen! Obey Me had that update though a few months ago and it's been a godsend so far!! I played for forever but my cards weren't ever strong enough to reach the later story :( so I'm really glad Nightbringer offers the full thing for free so I can binge read!!

Since I brought up other games though,, I've been wanting to ask actually if you've ever looked into Diabolik Lovers? If you haven't and ever want to... I do want to warn you that the anime is NOT very good unfortunately </3. It's one of those animes that's just kind of a really shitty ad for whatever it's original media form was. It skips out a lot of important lore/character info, and doesn't really showcase each character properly since it tried very hard to focus on just 1 brother and failed. So the ganes/translations are 100% the way to go.

I bring it up tho bc it's my fave character's birthday today :D!! Ohh,, Reiji Sakamaki the strange little specimen you are <3 <3 my lovely wife that drugs people. I adore him. I think tbh you could like him too based on the stuff you usually talk and write about here. But obviously I could be very wrong! No way to actually know.

- :3

AAAA the horror of reloading the tab... I've done that too many times. T_T I know the pain well. </3

YES!!! Glomas gave us so much!!! It's one of my favorite twst events. Being able to see what other magic schools are like and how they function (NBC having a student council in contrast to NRC's Housewarden system). I really hope there will be more events like it! I'd love an event where the RSA students are given more spotlight or an RSA-centric event!!! It would be so exciting!!!!

:O giving Floyb a proper chance...... may he come home so quickly!!! May he jump into your arms enthusiastically!! It's Jade's loss for being so stubborn in coming home. >:( no hugs for that eel.

That feature is so helpful and nifty omg!!!! I want to finish the main story and learn more from where I stopped a while back. ;;;; after becoming a Jade enjoyer, my eyes have opened to Barbatos hehe.

DIABOLIK LOVERS OMG...... now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. I did indeed watch the anime many years ago, but I actually haven't delved too deeply into the translations of the game. I might have to because,,,, vampire....... cool,,,, pretty,,, deranged.... orz the sheer grip those brothers had on me...

Please forgive my late reply!!!! >_< your wife's birthday has since passed, but that doesn't mean we can't still celebrate Reiji Sakamaki, the wife ever!!!!!! <3 I think my taste in fictional men has refined with my age because the polite (as a front) types (Reiji, Kyoya, Jade, Sebastian, etc etc) were never my preference, but now I am LOOKING. �� 👁 I think I need Mr. Reiji carnally.

[yuesya]

FAQ (zenith of stars)

Due to my Tumblr inbox being a little inundated these days, I've decided to put together a quick list here, which may or may not end up being edited further in the future.

Hopefully this helps! Thank you for the patience and understanding.

1. What's your update schedule?

Updates for zenith of stars are typically Friday evenings (weekly). In the case of breaks or unexpected delays coming up, I will always do my best to post a notice here on Tumblr beforehand!

2. Will there be any romance for Shiki?

There are no plans for romance in zenith of stars.

However, please note that I am not opposed to writing romance, so if it ends up occurring naturally later on, then what happens, happens. That being said: I do not plan to go out of my way to include romance in this story.

3. What year will Shiki be in as a student?

By the time we reach the canon timeline (2018), Shiki will be a third year student.

4. Where can I read additional zenith of stars AU snippets?

All writing snippets can be found under the '#Writing' tag on my Tumblr page here!

There is also a chaotic AU Index that includes most snippets, although it's not a complete masterlist of AUs mentioned on this blog.

5. Is there a masterlist of AUs to refer to?

I do not keep a masterlist myself, but @moldeater02 was kind enough to put together their own masterlist of AUs, which can be found here. Again, thank you very much!

6. Will you ever move these AUs to AO3?

I do not plan to compile and post these snippets on AO3.

Most of them are responses to Tumblr asks, and do not make much sense on their own with no context. Many are also not even written in chronological order. If any of them are eventually developed into proper stories on their own, then I will post separately, but as things currently are I would spare people the additional confusion.

7. How long is zenith of stars going to end up being?

I don't know. (Stares blankly into the distance.)

8. What's the status of your other stories?

Other stories aside from zenith of stars are either on hiatus or simply have very very slow updates.

and much madness must make is complete. There is a non-zero chance of bonus scenes in the future if the muse strikes me, but the story itself is finished.

[valos-venus-doom]

FOREBODING SENSE OF IMPENDING HAPPINESS [a VV one-shot]

A Blind Date for Ville Valo & OC

Thank you to @sinnysioux for the request.

(I actually love this so I may use this as a jumping off point for a fic in the future. 👀 Maybe we do it as a Choose Your Own Adventure thing? Where I poll readers for plot points? Thoughts?)

Ville stood outside a bar in Helsinki smoking a cigarette, kicking himself for ever agreeing to go on a blind date. At the time, he was going through a rough dry spell and when a friend of his mentioned Ville had a lot in common with a single female friend of theirs, Ville agreed without a second thought. But having had a week to sit and think about it, he was dreading it. He had no clue what to expect, but he was too much of a gentleman to stand someone up. So he was going to follow through and ghost if she turned out to be an obnoxious groupie or hairy bridge troll.

All his friend told him was his friend, Ava, had long brown hair with pink side bangs. So he stood and waited for what he felt was forever, until sure enough, a petite girl matching the description rounded the corner.

Ville felt instant relief when he realized she was actually very beautiful, but the apprehension that she’d be an obnoxious groupie still lingered. He dashed his cigarette and cleared his throat as she approached;

“Hi, excuse me, um, are you Ava?” he asked, cautiously.

The woman stopped walking and looked at him with the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen. She had delicate features, wearing a deep, dark green dress polka-dotted with little black bats. She smiled and Ville felt his heart flutter, “Yeah, I guess you’re Ville?” she replied.

Ville couldn’t help but mirror her smile. “I am.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Ava opened her arms for a hug, which Ville, surprising himself, happily reciprocated.

“Pleasure meeting you as well. Um, do you want to sit at the bar, or..?” Ville began.

Ava shrugged happily, “Sure, that works. Um, I’m not much of a drinker but I’d love a coffee.”

“Oh, well that’s quite alright. I’m not a drinker either. Erm… would you rather go to a proper coffee shop? It might be quieter, better for conversation.”

“Absolutely. I think I just passed a Starbucks, is that okay?”

“Brilliant.” Ville replied, following her lead.

All of the dread Ville initially felt had long faded away, and his heart was light and fluttery. He reminded himself to thank his friend, he was grateful she was in fact not a hairy bridge troll.

The pair found a quiet booth in a more secluded area of the Starbucks and sat with their coffees. Ville had ordered a black coffee, Ava a caramel macchiato.

“What do you do for work, Ava?” he asked her as he nursed the too-hot coffee in front of him.

“I’m a hairstylist.” she responded, “I already know what you do. But uh, how’s that going for you?”

Ville chuckled, “Yeah, I figured you knew. Um, it’s going well. I guess.” he shrugged.

“Oh?” his pessimism piqued her interest, a mood she hadn’t expected.

“Yeah our drummer’s wrists are fucked so we’re waiting to find out what the prognosis is. It’s holding a lot up, so I’m just writing here and there, hoping there’ll be a new album to put them on someday.”

Ava’s brows furrowed compassionately, “Ah, I see. Well hopefully the prognosis is positive. Aside from music, what do you do for fun?”

“I read, a lot. Mostly in the bath. What about you?”

“The same, oddly enough. I mean, not the bath part, but I read. I have a book buying problem. There’s a stack of new books I’ve never touched on the side of the bed.”

“Ah, I understand your plight. I’ve a habit of buying books everywhere I go. Whether or not they get read–”

“Is a different story.” she finished his sentence. “Haha. Punny.” she joked.

Ville was cheerfully surprised at her quick wit. “Exactly.” he laughed.

The pair kept talking and laughing for another hour or so before Ava realized the Starbucks employees were beginning to place chairs on table tops, indicating they’d be closing up.

“I think we’re running out of time here.” Ava said to Ville, gesturing with her head towards the baristas scurrying about.

Ville was far from ready to say goodnight, he was fascinated by everything she had to say. His friend was right; he and Ava had a *lot* in common. It was refreshing to be able to hold a conversation with a woman and have there be no lulls in the conversation at all. It was like speaking with an old friend.

“So, um, do you need to be getting back home or…” Ville began to question.

Ava shook her head, “Uh, nope. I’m still free tonight.”

“Do you want to grab a bite? I think the bar we were previously has some good options.” he suggested.

“Absolutely.” Ava replied happily.

As the pair exited the coffee shop, Ville took a chance, and he snaked his fingers between hers as they walked. To his elation, she held his hand back. He was reading the vibe correctly, thankfully.

Unfortunately, when they returned to the bar where they had met initially, they found it absolutely packed. Not exactly conducive to pleasant conversation, they’d have to shout to hear over the crowd.

“Well, uh, should we call it a night?” Ava asked, frowning slightly.

Ville bit the inside of his lip, hoping his next suggestion wouldn’t turn her off, “Pardon me if this is inappropriate, but would you maybe want to pick up a pizza and head back to my place? Just to talk?” Ava looked surprised and Ville quickly recovered himself, “Uh, not for anything nefarious. Just conversation, honest.”

Ava blushed and giggled, “I knew you didn’t mean anything by the suggestion. Yes, I’d love to. Again, not really a bar gal.” she shrugged.

A few hours later, Ava and Ville sat enjoying some music on Ville’s couch. They were sipping on tea Ville had made them and sitting particularly close.

“So that’s why that relationship fell apart…” Ville trailed off of the story he’d been telling about an ex.

“I’m afraid I don’t have quite that many stories of exes,” Ava admitted, “I just got out of a five year relationship at the beginning of the year.”

“Oh?” Ville coaxed.

“Yep. Its always fun finding out your best friend is sleeping with your boyfriend. Two relationships down the drain in one fell swoop.” she nodded as she stared into her teacup.

Ville mentally cringed, “Oh damn, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.” his hand reached out for hers, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand, causing more butterflies in Ville’s stomach.

Ava smiled, “Well, you know, at least I was able to move onto better.”

“Yeah, same here.” Ville whispered. Their faces ever so slightly moving towards each other, a game of chicken almost. Ville inhaled deeply through his nose as though he was about to dive underwater. “Forgive me.” Ville blurted out as he sat his cup down before suddenly connecting his lips with hers.

Ava kissed back, blindly setting down her own cup, her now free hand reaching for the side of his face delicately. Ville pressed his tongue forward, Ava accepted.

Ville allowed his lips to linger before pulling back, “Sorry, I just–”

“Needed to know if it felt right?” Ava finished his sentence for him. “Well?” she pressed.

Ville nodded, “And you?”

Ava didn’t answer, she gently pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and kissed him again. Ville placed his hand on her waist and felt a shiver go up his spine while thanking his lucky stars – and his friend – for this amazing first date.

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Let's settle down for the night.

Quick summary: You’ve been each other’s for a long time. You trust him with your life, your body, you time, and he trusts you with his. Sometimes, though, you find yourself craving a quieter kind of intimacy. Without the helmet.

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings: A lot of fluff 😩😩; may be inaccurate ‘cause, I gotta say, I’m a Star Wars fan but I did not proper hyperfixate on it like with some of the other stuff I’ve written about (buffs, please help me out here); kind of angsty??? like, reader’s an orphan etc; allusions to smut (under the shirt stuff amiright amiright); explicit mentions of smut.

A/N: What a fittie, guys. Bound to happen. This one goes out to @manicdream for giving me a lil’ prompt where you and Din are in looove aaaand—I guess you’ll have to keep reading for the fluuuff and feels! I really had fun with this one! Love this stoic, brooding, dramatic lad, and I enjoyed exploring love languages, their communication, etc, etc. i have no idea when this would take place, so just try to follow along, I guess??? I hope you enjoy this short, little story! I think this is gonna be just one part by the way. For all you Pedro Pascal sluts out there 😌😌😌, I do think I’m gonna write a smut thing for Joel Miller TLOU. NO PROMISES, THOUGH. Just finished the latest episode and what the fuck 😀😀😀 it just gets more and more traumatising huh. Anyway, please enjoy this happy fic!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

We’ve been walking for a while, now. Muscles aching, legs straining. The low, sloping sands of the Tatooine desert are pink in the setting suns, stretching on for years and years. 

The light flames up brilliant red and orange and bright white in his beskar, and I have to squint my eyes when I look over at him. From this angle, he looks like he’s all armour. When the suns finally go down, he’ll be a silhouette. That time of day always suits him best. You know how people you meet just seem like things sometimes. Din’s like rich soil, the kind that you can sink your fingers deep into with one single push. Or like a rock – with how little he talks, I used to think he was a rock. He’s also dusk. Dusk happens to be my favourite time of day. 

My feet are dragging again. If I were with anyone else, I’d never let my guard down—but it’s just us, and we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we’ve got a whole bunch of credits in my pack that’s almost enough to finally buy us our own ship. Won’t have to put up with sceptical glances on commercial flights anymore, or getting bashed about by produce on cargo ships we’ve had to sneak onto. Maker, I miss the comfort of the Razor Crest. But, y’know, it’s—it’s what it is. Lucky for us, transportation is the worst of our problems – it’s been a relatively quiet trip over the planet; no trouble—yet. Quietly trading with sketchy contractors in isolated taverns. We never ask questions about the high-paying ones, whether we’re implicitly tipping the scales of some political bantha shit, but I’m always curious.

A dry gust of wind cools my stifling skin, a break from the still weather.

“You alright back there?”

Din has his head angled slightly back towards me. His grainy, modulated voice curves my mouth up into a smile, and I stare fondly over at him as he slows his pace a little to fall into step with me. I urge him not to slack with the jerk of my head.

“Yeah, ‘f’course,” I assure him, tongue buzzing with foul saliva. Can’t drink just yet, though, ‘cause I already chugged about half of my waterskin way back at sun-up. He’s offered me the rest of his, but I refused to take it. Though, right now, grimacing at the bile in my mouth, I am thinking hard about changing my mind. “We’re safe,” I say confidently. We’ve been careful.

“I know.” Yeah, I know he knows. “I was just wonderin’ cause, y’know, you’ve been a little quiet.”

Playfully, I nudge into him (damn that beskar) and laugh as he shoves me back. “What, so you’re saying you want my ‘mindless chit-chatting’ back now, huh?”

I’m talking out of my ass, of course. We’ve had a thing going for a while, now – it’s been just us for a while. I know he doesn’t mean any harm when he teases me like that. It takes a lot for him to hurt my feelings, and he never does. Maybe at first, when neither of us would admit that we were happier being together than apart. I don’t know why I didn’t just tag along with him sooner. If I had known that those gruff, little grunts he’d make during conversation when we’d cross paths during jobs meant that he was enjoying himself?—well, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in asking him to be my partner. In all senses.

But still, he feels the need to explain: “Ah, you know I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I suppose that, after so long needing to be strong and tough and brave and coarse to get on with life and work, he likes being soft. This is soft for him: letting me walk ahead just slightly, his shoulder behind mine, so that he’s always got my six; teasing me about things he’s told me are his favourite qualities of mine; secretly watching me from behind the security of his visor. I don’t tell him I love it, and I don’t tell him I notice, but he knows, I think.

He turns away to complete a quick scan of the horizon on his blind side, and I do the same for mine, before we turn back to each other. He’s tired – I can tell by the way he’s leaning in towards me, like he wants to be held. The privacy of this big, wide desert must be a comfort to him. I know it is to me.

“How’s your day been?” he asks me lowly.

I laugh. “You mean the day we’re currently spending together?”

He nods. “Tell me about it.”

Stars, I’m glad it’s getting dark, because my cheeks start to glow with warmth. Not necessarily just his voice or even the words. Consistently, he always asks about my day. Yesterday, it was in a dingy tavern, after avoiding a bar fight (some prick tried to trick me out of a drink the contractor bought me fair ‘n’ square). The day before, it was in the dead of night, looking up at the stars, with the bounty, unconscious, lying between us.

“I liked it.” He scoffs. “I did. There’s been no trouble, and, y’know, I grew up on a desert planet like this.”

“Bantha farmers, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grunts.

I laugh again. “You bastard! You’re so judgemental. Honestly worse than those Coruscanti pricks we worked for ages back. Remember how they looked at us when we traded? Tried to underpay us? Bet they’ve never risked even chipping a nail.” Bounty hunting is a little more difficult these days without the assurance of carbonite freezing, without the security of the Guild – we’ve had to complete ten times as many jobs for five times lesser rates just to get where we are now. Reminds me of when I first started out: bounties fighting back, trying to make a run for it. But what else are we supposed to do?—take up a job where?

The suns slip below the horizon, and everything is washed a low, gentle violet—and Din is that silhouette, now, and everything seems peaceful, like it all fits together just right. Even though, of course, it might not fit together just right when I try to haggle the price of that gunship down a few credits or so and the vendor absolutely obliterates me with the most personal, cutting insults in the entire galaxy. Din’s no help in the communication sector there – the stoic type – but, if anything, he’ll be able to stand behind me with that armour and steel glare and weapons of his to try and intimidate that damn stubborn seller all the way to fuckin’ Bargain Town. Because, damn, we’re relying on it. Peli, bless her soul, doesn’t have anything large or powerful enough to support the three of us on our run from the Empire.

Speaking of the three of us, the kid’s absence, I hate to say it, is kind of nice. Of course, I worry about him, but I trust that he’s being well-looked-after at the garage. Safer than he would be with us. But I haven’t had Din to myself in what seems like years. Last time he touched me was—was—a long time ago. Too much stress. Not enough time to savour it. And he’s all about savouring those kind of things, those moments, dragging them out as long as possible.

I can feel his stare on the side of my face. My sweaty, greasy, clogged face – stars, I can’t wait until we reach a water supply.

“Are you looking at me right now?” I ask, amused.

He does another strategically-timed scan of the area, turning away from me even though I can’t see his face. I wonder if he blushes under that helmet, if it’s really obvious. “You’re looking at me.”

I roll my eyes and smile softly, lowering the scarf around my nose and mouth and tucking the fabric beneath my chin. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Good why?”

“‘Cause I’ve got your mindless chit-chattin’ to keep me company.”

Forcing a laugh, I glare at him again. “Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Din. Real knee-slapper right there.”

It goes quiet again – he becomes like that, sometimes, after I use his name. The first time I spoke it was in the dark hull of the Razor Crest, in hyperspace. He sat and stared straight ahead at the streaking silver, motionless, wordless. Here, the desert air is still and calm. His shoulder is still brushing up against mine.

“Are you tired?”

Yes. My legs feel like they’re about to fuckin’ fall off. Here, walking along the plain, is good, but earlier, climbing over dunes and rocks and boulders, was hell. But we need to be getting back to the kid as soon as possible. As much as I trust Peli, I need to see him and make sure he’s okay. So, I shake my head and say, “It’s only a little ways up till the next settlement.”

“It’s a lot further.”

My heart drops. “Oh.” Wishful thinking’s just got me forging fake memories at this point. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

“D’you think we should stop?”

“No, we can—”

“I’m tired—” he abruptly comes to a halt, apparently deciding that this little patch of sand will be a nice bed, “—let’s stop for the night.” He beckons me to him, coming in close and retrieving the lamp from inside the sling-bag, setting it down.

Well, if he insists.

You know, it’s moments like these where I just let myself be fond of him. I let myself stare freely at him, admire the shape of his body, the sleek, smart make of his helmet, let myself wonder if his face is any bit as handsome as he sounds. Everything about him is rough. The way he fights, the way he bargains, the way he pilots. His hands. I think about the texture of his hands as I sit down. I remove my gloves and stuff them away, gliding my skin across my skin to just try and simulate that touch.

“You’re not cold?”

I untwine the bag from my shoulders, setting it down and retrieving our remaining food for this day. “I’m not cold. I have, like, five layers on.”

He eyes me doubtfully. “Okay.” And he sits down on the opposite side of the lamp, facing me, one leg propped up as a rest for his arm. The pulse rifle lays by his side, ready.

I offer him a hardening clump of bread and a few stout, odd-looking, white-and-purple vegetables (generously given to us by a farmer we passed a while back)—but Din shakes his head and urges me to eat as much as I can. I bite back a remark about that helmet of his – he must be starving.

“We’ll get something better to eat when we get to the city.”

I snort. “It’s hardly a city.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stupid Din always making stupid decisions and rationalising them because he thinks it’s for me. He knows I can take care of myself, that I’m good at it, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping everything to try. It’s nice for someone to have my back, for that someone to be as wonderful as him, but, holy kriff, he’s so stupid sometimes.

I tell him flat-out, “We don’t have enough credits,” because we don’t. We have barely enough to cover a scrappy, little ship. We definitely don’t have enough to purchase any food. We’ve relied on favours and luck for long enough, and we can go for longer until we’re off-planet. Peli’s got—edible food—probably. I don’t trust it won’t make me shit my brains out as soon as we’re in hyperspace, though.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, though. “We’ll get a worse ship.”

“Din.” Stupid. I toss him a chunk of bread, swivelling around to give him privacy.

He protests, “I’m not hungry,” and reaches over and taps it against my shoulder – I shrug him away.

“I’m already stuffed, so what’re you gonna do about it?”

He sighs in exasperation. “Thought you might say that.”

“‘Cause I’m just so predictable?”

“You’re stubborn.”

Snapping my head over my shoulder, I scoff and give him an incredulous look. “I’m stubborn?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to goad me further. “Yes.” The warm light of the lamp glows along the strong planes and clean lines of his armour. His hand leisurely dangling from his knee, he rubs his gloved fingers together, and I’m suddenly jealous of a clothing item. I know he must notice the slight catch in my breath.

I turn back around to face him, the sand moulding easily beneath my smooth movements. “And there’s not a brooding Mandalorian sitting across from me now, refusing to eat.”

The first few years of working with Din, I never once saw him eat or drink a thing. It was like he was a droid (don’t tell him I said that): always working, working hard, but fuelled by seemingly—nothing? Obviously, I figured he had to eat some time. When I became his partner, sharing the Razor Crest, he’d retreat to his bunk to eat. And when I asked him his favourite food, he said he didn’t really hate or love anything – as long as he could consume it and it wouldn’t kill him, he’d tolerate it. Over the years, though, I’ve learned he tries to steer clear from any kind of berries. Doesn’t trust ‘em. And he’s not a fan of fish, but the kid is, and I am, so we have it more often, now.

Din jerks his head and allows me to toss him one of those weird vegetables. Having already finished my chunk of bread (on the brink of mould—so yummy!), I take a large, eager bite right out of the vegetable. My mouth is flooded with its bitter juice, and I squint my face up a little at the greenish tang.

“How’s that taste?” he asks.

“Like dirt.” I chew the mouthful slowly, careful not to judge too quickly, and eventually hum in contentment. “But—” I retract, “—sorta sweet underneath. You ever tasted a beet?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.”

He watches me for a few heartbeats, calm in the steady, amber light. I smile at him.

“Turn around,” he tells me brusquely.

I wink at him and do as I’m told, shuffling around again and turning to back the blue and purple horizon, the lamp and his gaze warm on my back.

I’m silent as he unseals his helmet with a quiet click and hiss. I try to imagine him again. Every single time, I feel guilty over it, because I know how dedicated he is to his religion—but, oh, I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over my teeth, enjoying the remains of that bite, before taking another, crunching down into the flesh. As I do, I hear Din do the same. My heart stops a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

“It’s nice.”

Stars. Stars, that voice. His voice, unfiltered by the modulator. Slightly hoarse from lack of water, scraping a little in his throat, but smooth in its low, rich tone. Like dirt you can sink your fingers right down into.

I set my hand flat on the sand my by side before pushing them vertically down, down, down, past the cooling surface and to where the glowing spirit of the day lingers.

Calm yourself down. It’s just a voice.

“You should have the rest of it,” he continues, and there’s the tap of the vegetable against my shoulder again.

Oh, stars. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He hasn’t got his helmet on. If I turned, he could be right there. Just him. I think about clamping my eyes shut to avoid the temptation of looking at him, but I can’t really co-ordinate myself at the moment. He taps again, encouraging me to take it back. My fingers hook up inside the sand, and it slips around me to my satisfaction.

“If you like it,” I say dryly, “you should eat it.”

The vegetable disappears from my peripheral. Another crunch, and another, and another. We sit in silence as he finishes it. The horizon is finally flat and unwavering in the cool of the night.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he’s done, hiking up the scarf around my head so it doesn’t slip too far over my hair. When I turn around, the helmet’s back on.

I wonder if he saw the colours of the sunset earlier. I had my head turned up for hours, watching every single shift in pink and orange and blue with wonderstruck eyes—but Din was striding on ahead, uninterested. I’m no engineer, alright? I don’t exactly know what he’s seeing in that helmet of his, or why. Infrared sensors for tracking, like in a rifle I once had that – that was one of the best damn weapons I ever owned, guaranteed to locate and hit your target, and I loved it to bits—until it got fuckin’ stolen by a bunch of fuckin’ Jawas. Point is, isn’t it just black and white in there? Sort of a purple-y black and white, and you can see changes in tone and depth and all, but black and white nonetheless. Red for footprints, though. Is that what he saw when I told him to look at the sky at sundown? Black and white? What is he seeing as he’s looking at me now? Me, I’m admiring the regal gleam of his beskar again. But he won’t be able to interpret the warmth of the lamp’s light on my face the same way as I did for him. I’m not the prettiest in the galaxy by a long shot, I know, but isn’t he missing out? On the beauty of the natural world? I think I’m prettiest at sundown – something in my undertone, I dunno – but he’s only seen me in that greyscale. Imagine if he just thinks I’m—okay-looking.

Overthinking it again. Din doesn’t waste time with things he doesn’t think add to his life. He doesn’t think I’m just okay-looking.

“You’ve got a good voice,” I tell him, grinning widely.

“You’ve heard my voice before.” The raw clarity of his words are lost once again behind the modulator. I shift my position, wriggling away from my disappointment.

“I know.”

A chill passes brightly through the air, and I tug my cloak tighter around myself, bringing my knees in close. Din doesn’t move a muscle, though, and he sits there and observes me a little longer.

We’ve been each other’s for a long, long time. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. And I’m not exactly thinking critically, and I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I find myself asking, “When Mandalorians get married, they can take their helmets off around their partner, right?”

The mortification immediately sets in.

Holy kriff.

Din looks at me carefully. Then, he nods the slightest of nods.

Holy kriff.

“I’m not—” I stutter out, eyes darting away, over there, over here, anywhere but his constant, steady, shameless attention, “—‘m not asking you to marry me, Din. I was—I was just wondering ‘cause, y’know, I think you mentioned it to me once, ages back, and—and I was just thinkin’ that maybe—” you pause, glancing up at him; he doesn’t move a muscle, and there’s nothing that gives away any kind of anything he might be feeling, “—maybe I’d like to see—what—you—look—like.”

Wow. Wow, I’m almost amazed at how slick I am with these things. God, Imperial spies could learn a thing or two from the master.

I clear my throat, deciding to embrace the grave I’ve dug for myself. “But I’m not asking you to marry me, so you can stop looking at me like that, now, alright?.”

He says nothing, does nothing.

I situate myself with untying my waterskin from beneath my cloak, hiding my face in my shoulder and cursing, “Damn voice. Gets me too damn stupid-excited,” under my breath, like it’s a secret, like he can’t hear every fuckin’ word I’m saying on a planet seemingly stripped from all other noise.

Seething at myself, I crunch back into my vegetable, then tearing off a piece of bread to stuff in alongside it, taking a careless swig from my waterskin to wash it all down. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather die from dehydration than address the awful, awful statement I just made. Stars. Probably scared him right off. We’re as close to married as the real thing anyway. Din’s more of an actions-over-words kind of guy – I don’t need to call him my husband. It’s not like—well, marriage is companionship, and we have that already. Marriage is trust, and we have that already. I don’t need to call him my husband. He’s just—my guy. My person. Would be nice to have it on paper, I guess. Proof that he’s my person, that he wants to be my person. Bless him, but for every single thing he does for me, every action, I still crave him saying those words. Not shit to do with marriage, exactly. Just: “You’re my person. I’m yours.” Words aren’t his forte.

“I’d marry you.”

I swallow the hard lump of bread with difficulty, scrunching my face up into a grimace. “Hmm?” I ask, drifting back to the present.

“I’d marry you,” he repeats, and my eyes go wide. Oh. “Right here. If you want me.”

Huh. Huh. I dunno what the appropriate reaction is here, so I just continue staring unblinkingly at him. My stomach is erupting in flutters, and I just stare at Din.

Then, I look around us, at the barren desert. And look, yeah, I grew up on a planet very similar to Tatooine, and, yeah, sure, I have fond memories of my childhood. And then they get not-so fond. I scrunch my nose up in disapproval. “Not here.”

“Where?”

I shrug, brows knitted together in deep consideration. “I dunno.” And I really don’t, because—because I didn’t think we were the marrying type. Just the together type. Growing old and pissy together, living together, fighting together, figuring it out together—type. Mandalorians value community and strength and The Way over everything else – not necessarily love. Didn’t take him for the marrying type.

I screw my mouth together and exhale deeply. “Just somewhere prettier, I guess,” I decide on. “Not this quiet, but still pretty quiet. Y’know, somewhere with trees. Proper, green trees. But not the kind where there’s stuff in there waiting to kill you.” I want there to be as many colours as possible, in the sky, in the flowers, so he can see me and see all that beauty all together at once.

He tilts his head. “Like, with mountains?” he asks.

I smile. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind mountains.”

He glances down at the sand, tracing some kind of pattern into it with his forefinger. “We could go to Takodana?”

Stars. My smile widens. Stars, is this a proposal? Did I just propose to him? Did he just propose right back? That’s actually quite funny, that is. In the middle of nowhere, running out of water, running low on food. Romantic.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Din?” I ask, more confident.

He grunts and shakes his head. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’,” I mock him, deepening my voice and attempting to widen the shoulders. I laugh at my own impression, leaning back on my hands and huffing a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts, clearing his throat and adjusting to a more comfortable position. “I mean, I’ve kissed you—between your legs,” he tells me, nervous, like I’ve managed to forget how well he treats me, how eager he is to kneel down in the pitch-black and take care of me like that.

Heat blooms in my stomach. “Great work down there, by the way,” I tell him through a sly grin.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” Is he blushing? Does he blush? I find myself wondering over that again.

I smile and stare at him.

“Could I kiss you?” The suggestion just slips out without a second thought. I just think that, after some food and water and rest, I don’t really have to filter anything out anymore. I don’t have any complaints – just some recommendations for fun we could be having.

Din doesn’t reply.

Ah, shit. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Mandalorian, remember? Stupid, stupid. If there’s anything anyone knows about Din, it’s that he’s a Mandalorian first. He’s a Mandalorian before he’s mine – he’d never say it out loud, but we both know it’s true. I’d never ask him to choose because that’s cruel. Am I being cruel?

Either way, I can’t seem to stop, and I don’t seem to care: “I’d keep my eyes shut,” I blurt out, trying to keep my breathing from becoming heavy with lust, and failing a little more than a little bit. Stars, I’m turning myself on at this point; he just has to sit there and look pretty. “You know I’d keep ‘em shut. I wouldn’t look. I just—wanna—” you sigh, “—I just wanna kiss you. It’s nice, I swear. Nice feeling. I’d keep my eyes closed. Or—or you could tie something around ‘em?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Stars,” I curse. “I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes from dust and dirt and blink hard. “I think I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Is ‘tired’ why you’re pressing onto yourself down there?”

He flicks his fingers over to where I’ve got my hand stuffed between my legs, rocking softly against the heel of my palm. I swallow hard. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. I convinced myself I was—ha!—I was just warming up my hands.

I shift my eyes sheepishly back up to meet Din’s, guilty as charged.

He sighs deep from within the chest. “You keep ‘em closed and we tie something around ‘em.”

Silent, I nod in agreement. My thighs squeeze together.

He jerks his head to beckon me over, and I go shuffling on over to him on my knees, probably looking like a right idiot, but, then again, I don’t really give a fuck because I’m about to kiss Din Djarin. I’m about to kiss my Mandalorian. I’m about to kiss my companion of almost a decade, more if you count all those shady bounties we used to end up competing for. My Mandalorian, my Din Djarin, mine, mine, mine. I’m not possessive, I don’t think, but, gods, I—I—I can’t believe it sometimes. That I get to know him like this. That I get to know such an incredible person. That he won’t say more than two words at a time to anyone, not even those we’re close with, like Peli—but, with me, he’ll talk for hours. He jokes that he’s just humouring me, but I know he loves it. He tells me so.

Din makes a motion with his hand to turn around, so I do, and I let him tie an old, folded food cloth around my head – unsanitary, sure, but, again, I don’t care, and my head’s reeling, and my heart’s racing so hard, thrumming in my ears, and he’s so close, and his fingers are tangling through my hair as he lowers my scarf, and they’re brushing against the nape of my neck now, and—

“Can you take your gloves off, Din?” I ask, and, unfortunately, the neediness seeps right through my voice. “Please?” Stars, I’m pathetic.

Behind me, there’s the shuffle and quiet groan of leather as he tugs them off, and then a quiet pat! as he tosses them to the side.

And then his hands are back. Rough, calloused fingertips ghosting over my ears, my hair, as he knots the cloth, then knots it again for good measure. Darkness is closed over my eyes, tinged the rich green of the fabric. My breath seems nearer this way, short, shallow, hot. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, still, as he cups the back of my neck, his touch cool.

I reach over my shoulder, taking a deep inhale as I run my fingers over the dips and hills of his knuckles. I fold my hands over his and squeeze, bringing them forward and kissing his fingertips gently. I feel the texture and thickness of his fingers, trace the lines of his palm. Din comes in close behind me, the solidity of his chestplate (cuirass? I dunno, once, he got all pissy ‘cause I didn’t call by it’s actual name) pressing up against my shoulder blades.

I smooth my thumbs along the deepest crease in his palm. “Y’know, once, before I met you, I met someone who told me he could foretell my whole life, and my child’s life, and their child’s life, just from the lines on my hands.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is right in my ear, low and intimate. Maker. “What do mine say?”

“All good things,” you reply shakily.

“Anything about Takodana?”

He twists his hand over, enveloping my right and rubbing circles into the back of it.

Then, he’s letting me go, leaning away—and there’s that hiss and click of him removing his helmet. I blink against the green cloth, my eyelashes dragging up slowly. If I hold my breath, I can hear him breathing.

“Turn around,” he tells me, and I do.

It’s too dark for silhouettes anymore. If we were in daylight again, maybe I could’ve seen the vaguest outline of him. But we’re not in daylight. I blink again against the cloth, hard.

His hands reach out and grasp my hips, and they’re warm and large and I never get used to it. The breath is still knocked out of my chest. He angles and adjusts me to face him, and I place my hands on his shoulders, fumbling around his armour before settling them instead on his neck.

His neck. Bare skin. I smooth my hand up the column of his pretty, perfect neck, feeling every inch of him. I already know the texture of his hair. When he’s between my legs and kissing me there, I like to thread my fingers through it. It’s thick and wavy and slightly too long. But otherwise, I keep my hands to myself. Even though I’m not technically seeing him in the dark when he takes his helmet off to taste me, I don’t reach out and touch his face—because it’s his. It’s his, and he’s taken an oath to keep it that way. He’s never initiated a kiss, so I’ve never asked. I’ve been content. I’ve been patient.

But I guess my patience has reached a limit. Slowly, tentatively, I drift my touch up, up, and feel along his jawline, coarse with longer scruff. His breath hitches, and I smile and continue. I smooth my fingers right along his cheekbone – Din gently circles his hand around my wrist, pressing his nose into my palm, then kissing it, soft, careful, dragging the tip of his nose along the line of the vein that trails over my arm.

Stars.

I blink hard again behind the green cloth, clenching my jaw down till my teeth grit together.

I feel along the jagged bridge of his nose, take note of how it’s slightly crooked to the right, like he’s broken it before (wouldn’t surprise me). I learn the shape of his brow, the broadness of his forehead. I feel the feather-light brush of his eyelashes against my wrist. I’m silent—and I’m grinning like an idiot, because what else can I do? It’s like I’m seeing his face. I’m not, but it’s sure as hell the closest thing. The weight of his head in my hands, the cautious squeeze of his hands on my arms. I whisper some kind of babbling, incoherent request, and he relaxes his eyes – I can feel the muscles in his face release tension – for me to trace my middle finger over the shape of his eye. I’m not crying, but, fuck, it’s getting a little moist up in this blindfold.

His eyes droop down slightly at the ends. I like eyes like that – kind eyes. My mother used to say these types of eyes only belonged to the kindest of people. Stars. Don’t cry.

“You look insane, mesh’la,” he whispers, close to me, lifting his hands to tenderly hold my face, like I might break.

“Ah, bantha shit, baby,” I retort. “You’re loving this.”

And I can feel him smile. I can feel it crinkle up the sides of his eyes, and I can feel the squint of them, and the way his cheeks lift. He smiles a little lop-sidedly, actually, the left corner of his mouth just a touch higher than the right. I try to memorise every single bit of information I discover, as urgent and as desperate as if my life depended upon it.

Quivering with want, I press my lips to the inner corner of his eye, firm and sure and needy, my hands grasping around his face. Din grabs fistfuls of my cloak, bringing me nearer to him.

He smells like dust and tastes like sweat and salt, but, Maker, this is good. Satisfies some deep, hellacious ache that would have otherwise consumed me.

I kiss the ridge of his cheekbone with the same fervour, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, the left side, the side that quirks up when he smiles.

Only, he’s not really smiling right now. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting, and stroking my hair away from my face and neck before mumbling out, “So pretty.” I press my nose against his, breathless with anticipation, heady at the warmth of his body. “S’good. You look so good—like this. Y’look good all the time—”

But I’m kissing him already, frantic, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, into his shoulders, bringing him as near to me as humanly possible. I sob dryly as he reciprocates, nudging his nose flat against my cheek. He opens his mouth to suck in a breath, and I lick into him, taste him deeply, practically having climbed into his lap during my whirlwind pursuit. His cold hands slip under my cloak, arms wrapping around me in a second.

The kiss is dry and rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It seems befitting of him somehow.

And when he makes a pathetic sound, a whimper or something, at the back of his throat, I almost melt right into the ground.

Closer, closer, closer – that’s all I can really comprehend at the moment. Even with our bodies slotted together, even though I can feel each shaky breath he takes as his stomach flexes over my own, I feel hungry for more. It’s Din. My Din, kissing me, his hands on me, his eyes on me. My Din, grunting into me as I shift in his lap and squeeze my legs around him. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—

He grabs my face gently by the chin, urging me away from him for a few moments. I sit there, blind, his open mouth still hovering over mine. Oh, stars, I think of the softness of his tongue, and I kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting, asking.

Din angles my face to the side, coming in slow, warm, and languidly slides his tongue into my hot mouth, breath fanning out across my glowing face. Maker. I can’t control myself – a helpless noise passes through me as I take it good and kiss him back, eager, wide open.

I guide his hand down the the base of my throat, just to feel his touch somewhere else. He squeezes there lightly.

His other hand manages to snake under my shirt, pressing flat across the small of my back, sliding up my spine and sending shivers all the way right through me.

It’s—good. Really good. Can’t-open-my-eyes-for-a-good-few-heartbeats type of good.

“Maker,” he curses hoarsely under his breath as I pull away, still leaning forward for me, chasing my touch.

“Good?” I ask him.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, smiling. “We can do this—more often—‘f you want.”

“If I want, huh?”

He kisses me deeply again, his thumb slotted beneath the cloth over my eyes. He pulls it taut to the side over so slightly, and I can make out that beautiful, warm glow over the sand and his armour again. I shut my eyes as he tilts my head up, though, as kisses down to the hollow of my throat and back up again.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I just know it. Everything about him is just beautiful. It’s just lovely, and I love it.

“Marry me and you can find out for sure,” he mumbles into my neck.

I can hardly hear him, of course – blood is pounding so hard in my ears that all I can understand from his words are that they rumble deep right through his chest, warm under the cool beskar.

I lift his head and press my nose into his cheek. “I can tell,” I continue, words brushing his lips. Again, I smooth my fingers over his face. “You’re so pretty, Din.”

“Marry me,” he urges, whispering against the fabric over my eye, warm.

I grin. “Later.”

He curses, something in Mando’a. “We’re going to Takodana as soon as we get that damn ship, you hear me?”

[slytherinlives]

I'm two years late to the party but here they are! The core four of my Legacy MC's. (there's two more but I wanted to focus on one from each house)

Kathryn Knight:

Kathryn is a half-blood witch who grew up in a small village in the countryside of France. Her mother Mary is a muggle florist and her father Theodore is a well respected auror within the wizarding community. For the first fifteen years of her life, Kathryn was considered to be non-magical by her father, knowing it was possible for children born of a muggle parent to not have magic. The summer she turned sixteen, Kathryn was helping her mother tend to their garden and got frustrated by a willow tree sapling not growing and a burst of magic flew from her fingertips, causing the tree to grow to full size. The incident caused gossip amongst the villagers and the Knight family moved to London, where she received her admittance letter to Hogwarts to start her fifth year.

You can read Kathryn's story here or here where you can follow along Kathryn's journey as she takes on her Seventh Year as a a Prefect, Hufflepuff Quidditch Seeker and the return of Sebastian and Anne Sallow as she tackles returning feelings and new mysteries.

(Sebastian x Kathryn romance)

(My other Hufflepuff MC Kallum Finchley makes cameo appearances as a beater for the Quidditch team, although he does not have the ancient magic ability for the sake of the story.)

Lyra and Lyle Grey:

Lyra and Lyle grew up in a whirlwind of life. Their mother Marlena uprooted them and their younger brother Luca from their home often, moving to various cities and countries and never staying in one place for too long.

Lyle is very protective of his twin sister, often scolding her for being reckless and putting herself in danger. He can be intimidating and stand-offish toward others, only showing warmth toward his siblings. Lyle loves learning new things and often holds the opposite view of his twin. He prefers to make calculated moves and often chooses more violent methods in a fight. Lyle is fiercely loyal to those he cares about but isn't afraid to be blunt and honest when needed.

Lyra thrives on new adventure and discoveries. She often gets herself into trouble due to her impulsive nature, which adds stress onto her twin brother. Lyra grew up as the only daughter in the family and her mother always scolded her for not being lady-like, often telling her she needed to behave more proper if she were to be wed one day. Lyra wants more for her life than a settled one, which puts her in conflict with her mother.

Their mother Marlena introduced a new fiancé to the twins that ended in a physical altercation, causing both of their magic to present as a means to protect the other.

You can read their story here or here as you follow along their journey of returning to Hogwarts for their sixth year, alongside their younger brother starting his first year. Lyra wants to learn more about the repository magic to help cure Anne Sallow, while her twin brother Lyle wants to open it as a means to protect his family.

(Eventual Sebastian x Lyra romance)

This is a multi pov story with most of the story taking place from Lyra's pov.

Jaina Cleary:

Jaina grew up in an orphanage with her older brother, who disappeared after his twelfth birthday. Jaina spent many years trying to find him but kept getting road blocked. She grew to be bitter and cold toward others and doesn't open up to them easily. Jaina isn't afraid to do what's necessary as opposed to what is right, which causes concern in others. Jaina is loyal to those she finds herself content with, and doesn't mind letting herself wind down and just be kid with them.

Jaina spent most of her life having to be a grown up and often gets annoyed by other children, but with her new friends at Hogwarts, she's slowly come to terms that it's okay for herself to be one sometimes too.

Her story is in the works, but may not come out for some time as I try to finish the others that I am way too behind on.

I hope you guys love them as much as I do <3

[bendyhater5000]

Get to know Claw :)

Hi, I'm claw the owner of this account and yes I use the namesake of my oc online! My oc mainly featured on here is of course, Claw itself! It's reference will be below, along with it's colour palette separately as well. Also yes, I know there is a typo in the reference, but I'll fix it in the written text for easier reading. Along with an extra word or detail written as well. Information : Claw Immortal Height: Ink Demons shoulders Forever 28 A lynx with wings (fallen angel) Broken wing always on left, along with the knick in her ear Bow on sailors hat shows on any angle. Yumeship (oc x canon) Shipped with Sammy Lawrence I am selective with sharing :)

Other than claw I feature other oc's, they do not have references yet. Once they do I will be updating my pinned once more. Most if not all my batim content is featured strictly in an au setting. I do not like to put my oc's into proper canon. I like to mix things from noncanon into canon for the story to not only flow better, but make sense with my characters in there.

One thing for starters, is in my au Wally Franks is the only butcher gang member to be 'perfect'. In this sense, he is Edgar. Again colours will be separated from the watermarked reference as well, along with the words on the reference written in the post. Information Edgar / Wally franks 2nd pair of eyes have vision impairment, and mess with his main vision. 7 limbs, missing an arm made like that Only 'perfect' butcher gang member Janitor Claw's primary caretaker 1 glove on right Leg chain on left leg

Flicks reference is yet to be done, please do be patient with me :) I keep putting her off and I'm sorry. I will put her information in an updated pin in the future. I am currently working on a complied oc lore doc from Sarah to Claw. I do not know when it will be finished, if you want to know anything in specific you can come ask me! May be potentially opening up asks once I have more following or.. when i figure it out to be honest. I do not draw regularly I tend to take a bit to draw, it's only when it comes to shitposts i draw much quicker. Onto me, I am nonbinary and pansexual. I go by It/Thing, Claw goes by the same pronouns as well. I am 16 years old, 17 in September on the 9th. I am diagnosed with DSM-5-TR Level 3 autism please keep that in mind when talking to me! Fun fact, I am also Australian ! I stick with a basic DNI: Please do not follow me if you support trump Use AI Homophobic etc Proshippers + anything else from the basic DNI i forgot :) My F/O's ! Sammy - selective Toon bendy - sharing Norman polk - familial Joey drew - familial Shrimpo - nonsharing Dandy - nonsharing Oc's I feature/may feature Claw/sprinkle/sarah - batim Flick/cream/iris - batim Locket - Fursona Dandelion - Secondary Fursona I do not draw humans, sorry. However any human ocs like Sarah and Iris I do make them on pony town. I will maybe post their ponies on here with design notes or draw their outfits on Claw and Flick. I do have other socials I post onto as well :) I will link them below ! Twitter(more active on private) - https://x.com/Battyluvr Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/crawlerzi/ If you do see me on pony town here are the signs its me !! My patreon

My private twitter

Skins I tend to use Asleep most likely skin

(+ any of my claw ponies)

Any variation of Vic

Any of my rudies

Those are my main ponies I tend to be in, I may send more of my ponies as I make them from here on out! Please do not take/copy inspo from any of my ponies thank you. If you want to ask please! My roblox account is Kittyangel_no, display name claw. Let me know before you try friend me otherwise I may just decline. You may mostly see me on Creatures of Sonaria, Dandys world and rarely that.. dumb bendy and the ink machine game on roblox.. Please play it, its so stupid. I do not think I have anything else to add, if you have any questions do let me know :)

[breadstick237]

Ladies and gentleman, its time for........

what did i learn this month?

in other words, monthly recap of my journey!

08.11-10.12

(a little over a month, but who cares)

I think I made progress with painting, got more confident and messy on a canvas, figured that the less I care the better it turns out

this is a good example of it:

the first one may look nice but I didn't even finish it, it's way too clean and I just hated working on it, tried way too hard

the second one I finished in 5 hours and it's got a messy charm to it, plus if I wanted I could easily clean it up

this month I tried out different techniques - pastels, charcoal, stuff I didn't wanna touch before

also I had a big realization about what do I need to work on, I have to improve backgrounds after avoiding them all of my life

oh and I finally started making things I could put in my portfolio, I've got a plan and I'm willing to go through with it

well, I won't put them in the portfolio, but I have to start with something so I can progress, I can't just study forever without putting my skills to proper use

I did a traditional animation (that looks awful but it exists)

unfinished comic (the one that made me realize I could do a good and structured background to save my life)

came up with a simple story that I can use as a small project, for character design, comics, storyboard, maybe even a small animation, stuff like that

For now I didn't really go outside of my comfort zone with this one but I've got a base, with an idea in mind I can jump straight to work next month!

Other than that I feel I got more consistent with drawing, I don't have force myself to do something every day. And I'm doing it with... more of a purpose? when I have to take pictures of it the next day I don't just do low effort and unfinished sketch of something easy, I try to challenge myself!

Either way, it was a good month. it's wasn't perfect, but nothing is. now I know what can I improve!

So, what do I need to do next month?

more portfolio focused work - even if it's really bad because I lack the skill, it's the only way I can get better

more backgrounds - when doodling don't draw people or objects but the environment

bigger format! it's time to go B1, 100x70cm, you can handle it champ

consistent posts, make them part of my morning routine insted of "once a day"

every Monday sit down with a timer set for 4 hours and try to get one project done - can feel unfinished, unpolished, straight up bad - just do it, more preparation means less work done

that's all folks! I really am doing this mostly for myself lmao but I really enjoye posting it online - if I don't then I feel a bit guilty about letting down my imaginary audience

my top 3 things i created this month

painting of my mom, this one telling-a-story-with-one-frame thing and ugly unfinished comic.

why? the first one is just pretty and my mom likes it, the other two were me going way beyond my comfort zone and actually trying ti tell a story, create something of my own. these ones, even tho ugly, did give me a lot

wow, I wrote a lot in here. I know I'm the only person that'll ever read this and I'm kinda late to school because of it but it was worth it. I did do good, and I'm gonna do even better

see you soon, mwah

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @maryofdoom! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

@mojowitchcraft recommends the following works by ArgentumCivitas:

Tessellation

Every Time: A Steddie Drabble Collection

Corroded Coffin - Live On Tour - One Night Only

He Carries Me Quietly

Higher Education

Mary is such a talented writer, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by her. She’s an incredible story teller and very generous with brainstorming offering advice. - @mojowitchcraft

Below the cut, @maryofdoom answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

To quote Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, “I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul.” But for real, though, it's because my bestie and writing partner called me up on Discord one night and said, “Mary, you need to watch the first episode of Season 4 of Stranger Things. Right now. I mean it. I think the show is in love with Eddie.” (…Some, shall we say, substances may have been involved.) However, I stick with it because I love both the boys as characters. I think they're interesting. They have a lot of interesting aspects about them to explore, both singly and together, and I think we're all enjoying that.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Mutual pining! Good God, give me so much pining that I think I’m in the forest. Give me so much pining that I need to use an oil-based paint on them. Give me so much pining that I’ll saw those two boys into planks and repanel my house. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

By far, it's when one of them has a crush on the other and is pissed off about it. There’s so much potential for sparky, interesting dialogue with other characters (and with each other) when the boys find themselves in that situation. And then it leads to interesting moments when they finally turn the corner and realize they’re not actually mad at the other one, they’re in love. 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so, so many that I love. But instead of giving you one of the big ones, let me share this gem: Love My Way, by dreamspaces. It’s very short, at only 1,346 words, but sometimes a bite is as good as a meal. 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

It might be interesting to do something with “and they were roommates.” I haven’t truly messed around in that space, yet. I also haven’t done a proper enemies-to-lovers, either, mostly because I can’t stand to set up a proper enemy relationship at the beginning…but I am chewing on an idea at the moment that might necessitate that sort of opening relationship between them.

What is your writing process like?

 It tends to follow a very specific order of operations:

Get an idea from somewhere. Possible avenues for ideas include conversations with friends, news stories overheard from NPR, something that hits while I’m listening to music, posts on Reddit, anything that turns up from general blorbo rotation, the works.

Write down the idea in my notes app of choice (I use Evernote)

Begin adding more thoughts and concepts to the idea (sometimes even snips of dialogue, if they hit interesting)

Once the idea has reached a critical enough mass, transfer it to Google Docs and turn it into a draft (if it’s a one-shot idea) or an outline (if it’s a longfic idea)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: begin writing the draft

FOR A LONGFIC: begin writing the outline, according to the outlining method detailed in Tom Lennon and Ben Garant’s Writing Movies for Fun and Profit (this book is half how to make it as a screenwriter in Hollywood and half solid craft advice on how to write a screenplay, and though I don’t want to write screenplays and though I was very skeptical until I tried it out, this is the only method that has worked to get me to finish any actual novel-length works)

FOR A ONE-SHOT: when the draft is done, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, heavily, to make it better

FOR A LONGFIC: once the outline’s done, actually write the thing 

FOR A LONGFIC: once the thing’s written, put it down for as long as I can and then come back to it and revise it, basically rewriting it completely

FOR A LONGFIC: do the same thing again, and then again, pausing in between each iteration for as long as I can

FOR BOTH A ONE-SHOT AND A LONGFIC: once it’s to the point where I don’t hate it, get ahold of my bestie and writing partner and have her read it and crit it and tear it apart

(cry a little because her crit is probably right)

Implement the good changes and ignore the bad ones - sometimes we have a (good-natured) fight about which ones are which

Send it to my other writing friends for their thoughts and comments and incorporate those, in a similar fashion

Revise, again

Once it’s as done as it’s going to be, make a posting schedule (if it’s a longfic)

Get it out there, according to the posting schedule

Begin working on the next thing

Do you have any writing quirks?

I mean, I can sit here and say “Oh no, I definitely don’t,” but I’m sure that I do. I am sure I have a distinctive writing style, just as everyone else does, but I would have to defer to anyone who’s read multiple works I’ve written to pull out any specific “quirks.”I will note that I really try hard to get the characters’ voices down, in their dialogue. I don’t know that I always succeed, but I try.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, a schedule, ABSOLUTELY. More power to those of you who post when you’re done writing, but I am the kind of person who needs to have everything DONE and ready to go before I put even a HINT of it up online. You can see this from my writing process. It doesn’t lend itself nicely to just throwing stuff out there as a work in progress. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Oooh, good question. I would have to say it’s a tie between the next two fics on this list. Tessellation, because I worked really hard on it (and because I figured out work skins), and He Carries Me Quietly, because I think it’s beautiful. The way it ends still gets me, even now. Not just because of the action that happens, but because of the words that I chose. I read them and I’m like, “...I wrote that? Damn, girl.”

How did you get the idea for Tessellation?

I mention it a little in its ending note, but I got the idea for Tessellation from a couple of places, one of which was the Steddie fandom itself. I love the idea of every single one of these 25,000+ stories about Steve and Eddie all being true all at once. Even the story of Stranger Things itself, as we see it on our TV screens, is just one possible version of the story that’s happening somewhere. (I truly believe that. I didn’t become an extremely lapsed Catholic for nothing. HECK THE RULES.)

When writing Tessellation, what was something you didn’t expect?

It was surprisingly easy to make connections between the six stories. It wasn’t like I was hunting for places to jam them in—they ended up falling into place very naturally. And I think my favorite one of these is when Steve, in the space story, is describing the spaceship that he pilots as “Rusalka class, she’s a good swimmer,” to Eddie, who presumably understands what this means in the context of the sci-fi world in which they live. 

What inspired He Carries Me Quietly?

It started as something else entirely—a whole established-relationship fic with the kids coming over to Steve and Eddie’s (either house or apartment) to play D&D, with an arc about a blind Max being included as kind of an oracle or super-NPC through Eddie passing her index cards with Braille on them, so she could be part of the game when and if she wanted to be. The whole thing was supposed to be told in flashbacks. I had a whole scene where Steve was figuring out how to bake cookies for everyone with whatever meager ingredients he had on hand. …Then it took a hard left into religious trauma, through some meandering means.  I guess it would be reasonable to say the inspiration, at that point, was seeing a tweet on then-Twitter with some speculation about how Eddie had come to live with Wayne. If it was the common (and unfortunate) queer-kid arc of being disowned by one’s parents. And then I thought, “Let’s go ahead and put Steve through that too, but let’s do it several years after it happens to Eddie, so that Steve has someone to guide him through the whole process.”

What was your favorite part to write from He Carries Me Quietly?

I think it was probably the opening, because of the rhythm of the sentences and how the sounds fit together with one another. I mean, if you choose to check it out, try reading the first few paragraphs out loud. It’s kind of what I think of when people talk about how writing has a cadence, or a musicality to it.  That, and the ending. The ending, starting with, “There’s one more thing that Steve wants to know,” was one of those things that just fell perfectly into place. I can see it so clearly in my mind: the two of them having a conversation, late at night in bed together, after a traumatic day. 

How do/did you feel writing Higher Education?

I love this goofy little story! It was part of a Discord server gift exchange in 2022 and my recipient said “College AUs are my jam,” so this is where my mind went. I wanted to consider a world where Eddie was the frat boy, instead of Steve. But if that were the case, the fraternity would have to be a pretty non-traditional one, wouldn’t it? The fictional Lambda House is based heavily on the fraternity house where I used to hang out in college. (It was at an engineering school and was populated entirely by nerds.)

What was the most difficult part of writing Higher Education?

The actual writing itself, honestly. Winter 2022 was a really difficult time for me, personally, and though I signed up for the fic exchange with all optimism and good wishes, it was a struggle to get everything done in time. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

One that really stands out to me is from Wrong Number, which was a oneshot I wrote based on a short conversation with some Discord friends. Picture it: Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle are all hanging out in the basement, and they’re all extremely high. Argyle, in his own way, can sense that something is wrong with Eddie. In order to get him to confess to whatever’s on his mind, they reference the pact they made that “anything said in the basement stays in the basement. It’s the law of the basement.” That just hits me as something so quintessentially Argyle. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh my, yes! I have two longfics in the pipeline that I hope to be sharing with everyone soon (or, well, as soon as I can get them through my Process). The Music of the Spheres is a Regency AU with a smoldering slow burn and an eventual happily-ever-after, while Home for the Holidays is a genre mashup: Steve’s in a Hallmark Christmas romance and Eddie’s in a psychological thriller. I am also rotating a couple more ideas in my brain that could potentially be longer works as well, but we’ll see how those go.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think the esteemed and prolific two-time-Hugo-Award-nominee Dr. Chuck Tingle puts it very nicely when he says: “CREATE. BUILD. EXPRESS. CONQUER THE LYING VOICE THAT SAYS YOUR TECHNICAL PERFECTION IS BETTER THAN TRUTH OF THE MOMENT. FILL THE VOID WITH ART and do not fear because weve got your back buckaroo. we are ALL creators in our own way so LETS HECKIN CREATE.” Let’s heckin’ create, buckaroos. I’ll see you out there in the word mines.

Thank you to our author, @maryofdoom, and our nominator, @mojowitchcraft! See more of @maryofdoom's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[nonhumanresources]

Catnip For A Sphinx

A while back I met my friend Snepril and got to talking about character lore. Being the person I am I started making jokes about catnip and one thing led to another and a few days later I dropped a story on her head. Here's that story! This one should be a hit with the otherkin in the crowd. Also, her wife Skye is featured, who has since succumbed to kitty propaganda.

Summary: April buys novelty catnip wine for her cat to try out and decides to give it a taste herself. She quickly discovers that she might not be quite so human as she thought—and also that she loves catnip.

What to expect: lots of fluff (literal and metaphorical), TF in the form of a permanent glamour dropping for the first time to reveal a true form, lots of otherkin vibes, the silly actions of an extremely large cat in an extremely normal-sized apartment, wings, hugs, wives, and collars.

Length: 3.7k words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m hooome!” 

April knocked open the apartment door, knob twisted with an elbow. She backed in, arms laden with groceries. It was almost too much to carry, but she only had to take one trip from the car, so it was worth it. 

“You get everything?” Skye, her partner, appeared out of the hallway. She gave April a one-armed hug and tucked her chocolate-colored hair behind her ear and out of her face. Without asking, she grabbed the grocery bags off of one of her arms. 

“Of course I did,” April said, nudging Skye’s foot with her own. “I can carry these, silly.” 

Skye stuck out her tongue in reply. “I know.” The two lugged the food into the kitchen, setting it on the counter to sort out and put away. A particularly heavy bag made a loud clink as Skye set it down, and she tugged it open, curious. She snickered as she pulled out a glass bottle with a familiar reddish-purple tint. 

“Oh my god, where did you find this?” Skye asked, delighted. “Pinot Meow? Incredible.” 

April laughed, shoving a carton of eggs into the fridge. “Walmart! That was the last one on the shelf. I need to see Zorua two glasses deep in that stuff.” 

Skye grinned, eyes glinting. “Perfect. Yes. Oh, this weekend is going to be fun.” 

Rest of the story below the cut. If you prefer a Google docs reading experience you can find that here but only if you reblog this first or I cast magic missile. As always, comments/questions/thoughts would be lovely! If you made it this far, may your days be filled with the wisdom of the fat boar resting in dappled sunlight.

“Is he still pouting in the bedroom?” 

“Mhm. Won’t budge.” The couple’s cat, Zorua, was a little fiend of a man. His fur was as gray as his morals, as Skye liked to say. In reality, he was just needy and particular; they’d forgotten to make his bed just right that morning and he’d been grumpy all day. April figured this was a good way to make amends, and also get kitty blackmail for later. Plus he was all out of treats, so a temporary alternative was needed. 

“Well, intoxicating substances solve all problems,” April declared, snapping the fridge door closed as she dropped the last few tomatoes into the crisper. Skye giggled and pulled her in for a proper hug, their foreheads pressed together.

“A kitty like you would know, wouldn’t you?” Skye teased. April squeezed her. 

“Maaaaybe!” 

“Well, my love, can you get started on dinner? I’ve gotta shower and finish up something for work.” April nodded, breaking the hug and letting her partner head to their makeshift office space. 

“Mind if I pop open the cat wine?” She called out. 

“Go for it, but don’t get him too drunk without me!” Skye replied, laughing. April snagged the bottle in one hand and a shallow plastic bowl in the other, walking over to the bedroom door. She pushed it open slowly, and sure enough, there was Zorua, sitting on the bedside table with his nose in the air. She clicked her tongue, and he opened one eye, glaring at her. 

“Aw, who’s a grumpy man?” April jibed. Zorua closed his eye again and turned away. “Still mad, hmm? Well, I’ve got a treat for you,” she cooed, tiptoeing over to sit on the bed. She made sure not to make it seem like she was actually approaching him; that would only make matters worse. Setting the bowl down on the floor, she twisted the cap on the bottle, popping the seal. 

Immediately, the smell snuck out into the air. April almost sneezed, surprised at its strength. She checked the bottle; mostly water and catnip, with beet for the color. Perhaps catnip smelled stronger than she remembered? Regardless, it was strangely appealing. She poured some out into the bowl, only about half an inch deep, and pushed it into Zorua’s view, hoping the smell would be enough to get him to investigate. 

April stood up once more, ready to go cook dinner, but she hesitated, staring at the bottle in one hand, curious about its contents. Perhaps a little too much so. What did it actually taste like? Catnip didn’t have any particular allure for a human that she knew of; it was literally named after cats, after all. If it was poisonous, the bottle would say so, so why not try it out? Glancing over at Zorua, she gingerly sniffed the cat wine again, then tipped it back, taking a small sip. 

The flavor hit her palette so explosively that she got knocked back on the bed, legs collapsing underneath her. April gasped and coughed, shocked at just how incredible it was. She considered taking another sip—and by the time she had, the bottle was already tipped back in her mouth, brain playing catch up with her instincts. Zorua watched from the bedside table with concern on his furry brow as April drained the rest of the cat wine, then darted away yowling as she flopped on her back, as fluffy as the blankets, the bottle shooting out from between her paws. 

The room swirled. April stared up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. She licked her lips, long tongue flicking out and swirling across her muzzle. Her cheeks felt weeeeeird. Like there was something on them. She swiped her paws across them, squishing her face; it didn’t help the weird, twitchy feeling, though. She grunted, limbs wriggling as she flipped herself over, standing up on all fours on the bed. She smacked her maw, letting out a soft, happy mrrrp! The sphinx’s wings fluttered, sending the warm air swirling about between her feathers. 

That cat wine was delicious. Her whole body was buzzing with warmth, radiating outwards and into the mottled gray and white fur. She’d have to buy more of it….

...Was there… something to do…? 

Dinner! She still had to cook! April’s eyes shot open, and her wings flung out to the sides—one of which slammed into the wall and shoved her right off the bed, yowling and tumbling to the floor. 

Finding her feet, April fluffed up her fur, indignant. How dare. She gave the wall a solid, fifteen second glare to show her displeasure. Standing, the bed was a foot or so below her shoulder; it used to be way taller, but she didn’t pay that much mind, as her nose caught a scent that made her pupils dilate. 

Pinot Meow. There was more! Of course there was—she had poured a bowl out earlier. Wobbling on her paws, she slunk around the corner of the bed frame. 

Zorua was there already, slurping up the cat wine. “Heyyy!” April whined, scooting forwards and almost tipping herself over. She skidded to a stop, accidentally dunking a paw in the wine. Zorua made a sleepy fffss! at her, and she stuck her tongue out. She sniffed at her paw—then promptly stuffed it in her mouth, ears flattening happily.

April crouched, lapping from the bowl, purring. She was a human, of course, so it was a little undignified, but only Zorua saw it, and he was no snitch. No one else had to know. The cat stomped away from the bowl, steps unsteady. He made a fuss about it, but no amount of shaky swiping at April’s ears could get her nose out of the wine. Her tongue slowed; after drinking down half the bowl, she leaned forwards, muzzle dunking into her drink. The purring grew louder and more intense as she rested. Her eyes closed to slits, bubbles breaking the surface of the wine each time she breathed out of her mouth, her nostrils wide. 

April rested like that for a while, not quite napping, but certainly out of it. Even though she was quite large—human sized, she told herself smartly, although in reality it was closer to a toy horse—the amount of catnip-infused wine she’d drunk was doing a serious number on her. Taking in deep whiffs of it, her mind wandered, imagining soft blankets, beds strewn with treats, the liquid gold of sun rays….

….

“April?!”

The sphinx snorted, sucking up wine into her nose. She coughed and splattered it all over her face, accidentally tipping the bowl over with a paw as she spun to face the doorway, tail stuck straight up in the air. Her wings flapped madly, gusts billowing around Skye, who let out a sharp cry. 

“I was NOT sleeping!” April declared. To Skye, it sounded much more like “Mor-oooow!” Her eyes flicked back and forth between the stain on the carpet and April’s face. 

“Oh my god, you got into the cat wine, didn’t you?” she burst out. 

“NO,” April huffed. Or rather, “MROW.” 

Skye didn’t listen, gripping the door frame. “I can’t believe you ACTUALLY turned into a sphinx, and the first thing you do is get kitty wine everywhere!” 

“It’s—I’m clearly still human, see?” April countered, sitting back on her haunches and holding up her forepaws, swinging them a bit as she tried to keep her balance. Skye giggled despite the amazement on her face. The sphinx planted her paws on the ground and stood, indignant, ready to march over and give Skye a piece of her mind. Walking wasn’t easy, unfortunately, and she found herself face-planting on the carpet with a surprised brrr! Her wings flapped once, then settled on either side of her like a disheveled cloak. 

“Drunk cat,” Skye scoffed, looking down at April. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I guess you didn’t make dinner, then?” The sphinx looked away, huffing. 

Skye disappeared, returning a moment later with a towel. April stumbled back up to her paws, sitting firmly on her haunches to keep from falling over. Her partner sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for April to come over to her. “Here, I got something to get all that wine.”

April huffed, head held high, the picture of sphinxly, catlike pride. But human, of course. She wasn’t actually a sphinx. That would be silly, she thought, pawing at the whiskers still tickling her face.

“Is someone grumpy?” Skye accused, folding her arms and furrowing her brow in a caricature of frustration. “Is someone all mad because she made a mess?” 

“Ech-ch-ch-ch!” April flicked her tail, making SEVERAL dissatisfied noises at Skye, who echoed each one back at her. She didn’t even get the subvocal tones right. April heaved herself back to her feet and marched over, lecturing Skye on proper throat positions (really just a bunch of indignant meows), but the moment she felt Skye’s hands on her ears, her butt hit the floor once more, a purr bubbling up her throat.

Skye dabbed the towel on April’s chin. She glanced away, grunting, but Skye gently pushed her face back towards herself, rubbing the towel into her wet fur. 

“Mrrrp.” April’s eyes crossed. 

“Hmm? What’s that?” Skye cooed, digging her fingers into the sphinx’s cheek fluff. 

“Mrrooooowwwwww.” 

“Oh, someone has OPINIONS,” Skye sang, mopping up April’s throat. As she moved the towel up and down, her purr-growl went up and down in tone with each pass. 

“Ffffsss!” April sputtered like a dying engine, the statement sending her already impaired brain into a tizzy. 

“Opinions too big even for a big kitty like you! They’ve gotta get out!” 

“Mmmrooooow!”

“Go ahead, tell me all about it.” 

April kept up the back-and-forth with Skye for some time while the latter cleaned off her face and neck. It took a while, but finally the soaked towel was tossed aside. April’s nose followed it, but Skye cupped her palm on the side of her face, fingers scritching under her floof. 

“No more of that for you,” she chided. “You’ve had more than enough.” 

April chattered at her, but opted to not argue, since staying put meant more pets. She leaned into it, blinking slowly up at Skye, who smiled down back. 

“What are we gonna do with you, huh?” she mumbled. April wasn’t entirely sure what she meant—she was just a little bit drunk, after all—but stretched her neck out and gave Skye a reassuring lick on the cheek. She laughed, pushing her face back. “Aw, come on, you have kitty breath!” 

April didn’t stop, planting her paws on either side of Skye on the bed and licking her cheek again. Skye made a valiant effort, but couldn’t keep the cat away, giggling. After a moment, though, April shrunk back. Her muscles bunched, fur rippling. Before Skye knew what was going on, April leapt up onto the bed, pushing her into the middle of it and, fwump, dropping right on top of her. Muffled protests sounded from somewhere under the mound of fluff, but April could hardly hear over her own purr. 

Wings fluttering to rest splayed across the bed and drooping to the floor, relaxed and content, the sphinx nodded off, soon followed by her partner, slipping into the realm of fluffy dreams. 

___

 April awoke to sunbeams warming her back. Her head felt like it was full of cotton. Skye was already up; April could hear her puttering about in the kitchen. She stretched, ears flattening, wings shuddering before collapsing back down flat. Something about them felt… off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She yawned, arching her back, tail fluttering in the air. She stared down at one of her paws, admiring the rosettes that coated her fur. 

Paws. 

Those… didn’t have fingers. 

“I’m a SPHINX?!” April’s yowl brought Skye running in from the kitchen, decked in an apron. She stood on the bed, fur on end, wings raised and knocking against the ceiling as she heaved in and out. Skye raised her hands placatingly. 

“Hey! It’s okay, I’m here, you’re fine!” 

April stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. “What happened?!” 

Skye scooted up to the edge of the bed, gesturing for April to close her wings. She did so slowly, regaining control over the massive appendages, settling down in a loaf on the bed. Skye rubbed one of her ears, eliciting a purr. 

“The cat wine triggered something,” she explained. “At least, I assume. You had it all over yourself.” 

“Seriously? I got all furry because of catnip? How is that stuff even legal if it does… THIS to people?” April groaned. 

“Well, you are a bit of a unique circumstance, to be fair.” 

She sighed. “I suppose.” The sigh blended into the purr as Skye moved her hand to the other ear. 

“The catnip was probably normal, and maybe all those conversations about hiding in a human form were your subconscious trying to signal you. Or maybe it was actually magic catnip. Does it really matter, though, when you were a sphinx before and you’re a sphinx now?” 

April leaned forward and bonked her forehead against Skye’s face. The words felt warm in her chest, and when she tried to speak, all that came out was a stutter and an affectionate mew. 

“I guess what was the right thing to say, then,” Skye chuckled, hugging her sphinx. “I made breakfast, since you were too busy catting it up last night to make dinner. C’mon, I’m starving.” 

Skye stood, and April followed, thumping down to the floor and plodding along behind Skye. Her nose twitched, and she realized that she knew what she’d find in the kitchen before even getting near the doorway. 

Sure enough, there was a bowl of cereal and fruit sitting on the table alongside a plate with a few slices of simple grilled chicken. Zorua was fixated on it from one of the counters, but upon seeing April, bounded down and out of the room. She didn’t mind; more for her. She could already feel her mouth salivating. Skye pulled out a chair and sat down; April nudged the one on her side out of the way, more than large enough to sit on her haunches and still reach her plate. She sat down daintily, and promptly attacked her chicken like an animal. Skye just laughed and ate her breakfast in silence. 

What was going to happen next? April could already tell that this meal wouldn’t be satisfactory; she was a big cat, and big cats needed to eat a lot. That was going to be expensive. Not to mention her job—she worked from home, but IT was going to be extremely difficult with a keyboard built for hands. A small shiver went down her spine; she really did have paws. She’d checked four times already. As exciting as that was, that still meant half the income if she couldn’t figure out work, and could get away without showing her face anywhere. 

There was so much to consider. Was a wardrobe necessary? How could she get outside? This apartment wasn’t made for a cat that was almost as tall as the average human; she barely fit as is. Oh, god, what about bathrooms? She’d need a litter box half the size of the living room! She DEFINITELY wouldn’t fit in the bathtub, even using the showerhead—was she going to have to lick herself clean? Did sphinxes have to do that sort of thing at all? Was she actually mythical, or just unconventional? There… was a sort of blue glow at the edges of her vision, if she didn’t focus on anything in particular, and looked at juuuust the right angle….

…

She blinked, eyes focusing on her plate and the last abandoned strip of chicken. April looked up and saw Skye looking at her, concerned. 

“What now?” she whispered. 

Skye sat in thought for a moment, then set down her spoon. “Honestly? Not a clue. But hey, aren’t we lucky that you gained a mighty sphinxly form on a weekend?” 

April smiled. It was lucky. Far more time to sort things out. She bent down, predator’s teeth easily snatching up the last bite of chicken.

“I’m just glad you can talk now. You were so wacked out on catnip last night that you couldn’t do anything but meow!” 

April’s eyes bulged, nearly choking on the piece of chicken. She barely managed to keep her wings in check, lifting a paw to her chest instead as she swallowed. “I what?!” 

Skye nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

___

“I’m hooome!” 

April’s ears perked up at the sound of the front door. She climbed to her paws, circling around furniture lithely, feathers brushing up against chairs and walls. The apartment was small, but she could deal with it. 

Skye stood in the entryway, a bag dangling off one arm as she took her shoes off. She smiled at April, reaching out and running a hand through her hair. “How was your day?” 

“Lazy,” April remarked, purring and rubbing up against Skye’s legs, almost pushing her off balance. “Big cats need lots of sleep, after all.” Skye laughed. 

“Big cats also usually don’t work in IT, Miss Sfeenks.” 

April chuckled back, tail coiling and uncoiling around one of Skye’s ankles. She stuck her snout into the handles of the plastic bag. “I can carry that for you.” 

“If you insist!” Skye responded, slipping her arm out. The light bag settled on the bridge of April’s nose. “Just don’t look inside, you’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“I thought you were just buying lint rollers.” 

“Well, that was the plan. You’ll see soon enough!” 

April shrugged, plodding back through the living room to go and drop the bag on the bed. It couldn’t have more than one or two things in it, based on the weight. She slowed to a stop, one paw still held in the air, as the bag bumped against her whiskers. The sphinx stayed frozen like that for a few seconds, before her nose twitched and she let out a huge sneeze, covering it with a wing. 

The bag didn’t fall, but one handle did slip off her nose. She pawed at it, bapping herself in the face on accident, determined to get it back on while simultaneously not looking down.

After much trial and error, April managed to slip the loop back over her nose and carted the bag to the bed, where she deposited it without incident. Skye followed shortly thereafter; April settled down on the floor in a loaf, legs tucked comfortably underneath herself and eyes half closed. Skye sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out the lint roller she’d gone to buy, attacking the sheets with it. April had found that even with the colder weather, she was shedding. It was going to be awful in the summer. At least she’d get brushed, though. That was a compromise she—

“MROW!”

Hands. Neck. Plus… oh, no.

April’s brain short circuited as she felt a ring of soft leather encircle her throat. Skye had taken advantage of her reverie to lean down and tug something around her neck. Logically, the answer was obvious, but April’s thoughts kept falling apart before she reached the conclusion. Skye’s warmth rested on her fur, hot breath blowing across her hair and ears. She could feel the smile in that breath. As soon Skye tugged the leather nice and snug, hands falling away, April spun around to face her. 

“EXCUSE MEEEOW!” she snarled, tripping over her own feet in her rush, all the poise of a cat gone in a moment. She stumbled and plopped her head right into Skye’s lap, who jumped.

“Woah! Hey there~,” she sang, hands immediately wrapping up and around behind April’s head, laced together there, playing with the… the….

“How do you like your new collar, little miss opinions?” 

April lost it then and there, sputtering in a mixture of shock and absolute giddiness, human words escaping her tongue. She smushed her face, hot under the fur, into Skye’s belly, hiding. Her whole body shook with the strength of her purr, even as the muffled yowls continued. 

“Aw, she loves it! Such a polite sphinx, wearing such a dignified little collar!” Skye bent over and wrapped her arms around April’s middle. She was still sputtering and chattering and whining into Skye’s shirt. All thought slammed to a halt, her entire being focusing on that soft ring around her neck, so… so right.

Skye mumbled into the fur and feathers on her back. “I figured you’d like it. A beautiful sphinx like you deserves proper accessories, after all. Plus, I just couldn’t help it.” She squeezed April tightly. “Now, who’s my good girl?” 

“Nyah! E-er, nnnnyot faaaair!” April wailed, finding her words once again. 

“Of course it’s fair, sphinxbutt. You’re just simply a good girl, nothing to it!” 

“Mrraah!”

“Meow meow meow, says the kittypet!” 

April’s speech flew from her once more. She kept meowing, but Skye’s insistent praise flitted in through her sharp ears, settling down in her brain. They stayed like that for a while, comfortably embraced, sphinx and wife, and only one coherent thought managed to breach the surface of April’s wildly roiling mind. 

No one would ever convince her to take her new collar off. 

[redwineconversation]

you (might) know ball, I know Aristotle (aka the Amandine Miquel dilemma)

Contrary to what feels like the majority of fans on Twitter, but maybe on brand for me, I'm not keen at all on the idea of Miquel being Lyon's next coach when the door slams shut behind Bompastor. So let's talk about why hitting the brakes on the Miquel to Lyon campaign is actually a good idea.

Should I put this under a read more considering how much I monologue? Probably. Did I? No.

There are two main things which deeply concern me about Miquel: her complete and utter lack of UWCL experience, and her management style. Let's pour ourselves a glass of wine and have a good and proper chat as though we are tortured poets.

I'm far too lazy to actually find this post, but in April 2022 ish I wrote something along the lines of "I truly do not care who [this team] fucks (over). I just want to win." That still stands. I want to win and I fucking hate losing. I cannot stand it.

And it's one of the reasons why I like Lyon, because there's always going to be - well, I say always, it should be as long as the core players are there - there's always going to be a part of them that genuinely hates losing, too. I need a team whose hatred of losing is greater than their desire to win. I need the thought of losing to keep them up at night. I need losing to change them.

And that mentality, right, it's not learned, it's innate in the purest sense of the term. Lyon are who they are because the thought of being anything else horrifies them. Just look at how much it bothers them when they get written off. This team likes to consider the UWCL trophy as being theirs. They will do almost anything to keep it.

That's not something you can coach. I don't think you can coach a killer instinct, I think it's either there or it's not. Monsters recognize monsters, or something, I guess. But the point is either a player already has a killer instinct or they don't. They don't become bloodthirsty halfway through their playing career.

The UWCL is different from league games. Coralie Ducher on OLPlay - who is a former Lyon player - said that the physicality is different, the tempo is different, the intensity is different. Lyon plays so well in the UWCL because they are used to it. They have been there many, many times before, UWCL games are muscle memory at this point for them. They know how to get the job done because they have done it.

Miquel however does not. She has not played in the UWCL. She has not managed a team in the UWCL. For me that is such a fundamental red flag, and I am so perplexed that people hand wave it away to the point of actually saying "the players can just bail her out" (I wish I had that tweet saved but also don't believe in outing people's social media, but that's another story). If your argument is the players can just bail her out while she learns on the job then Kang might as well just save some money and let the players coach themselves.

Has Miquel ever had to coach a game with as high stakes as a UWCL knockout game? No. We don't know what she is capable of doing, and again, it's unfair to put the burden on Lyon to find out. We shouldn't have to find out if Miquel can get Lyon past the semis against PSG, for example. Or, hell, even out of the group stages. I don't want to finish last in the group stage, or depending on the playoff games go, in qualifiers, and be knocked out of the UWCL and people come up with the excuse "it's okay, she's learning on the job." It's not up to Lyon to be the learning curve.

Bompastor's arrival as head coach has a pretty considerable anecdote to it, and that's that Vasseur, may the history books forget his name, literally drove the team head first into the fucking wall. The players didn't like him, the results weren't there, and he got kicked to the curb accordingly. Lyon was in such a state that Aulas brought Bompastor in because he wanted to save his favorite children. Bompastor already knew what the Lyon DNA was so she would be able to restore it. If Vasseur's damage wasn't what it was, then I am not sure Aulas would have appointed her as head coach.

So Bompastor already knew what made this team click, because she had been a part of it, so there wouldn't be that much of a learning curve. Her assignment was really just getting Lyon back on track, which she did in the 2021-2022 season but there are debates as to whether she did in the following seasons.

Bompastor knew how to handle big personalities because she is/was one herself, but she also lost the locker room this season for sure, and that's actually pretty significant. If Bompastor, who has the Lyon DNA, can't keep control of the Lyon locker room, then what guarantee is there that Miquel will keep it? What guarantee is there that Miquel will even be able to control it from the start? Her management career consists of bringing up academy players from a D2 team into a D1 team.

Great, and that's admirable, I like what's she done with Reims. But Reims is not Lyon, they're two completely different teams with completely different expectations and completely different players. Lyon does have some extremely strong personalities, even if their heart is in the right place. Bompastor knew how to handle it - until she didn't - because she knew how Lyon clicked. I don't think Renard, Hegerberg, Le Sommer, etc - they expect things to be done a certain way, and there is fierce resistance when it's not. Renard and Hegerberg pushed Pedros out because he wasn't challenging them enough in practice, and Pedros won a triple and a double with them. Trophies do not give you immunity in this team.

But let's get back to Miquel's management style, and true to form, this is another of my favorite soapboxes: Lyon is not a development club. I will die on that hill. It's my Sisyphus. If you want to be a competitive club, you have to get experienced players. You have to have players who already know how to get the job done. You don't win the UWCL with freshly promoted to the first team academy players. You win it by having players who have been there before.

Now, you can argue those players had to start somewhere, and I couldn't agree more. My issue is that it's unfair to put the burden on Lyon to be the "somewhere". I don't want to see what happens in a few years - I want to win now, because I am competitive now, because I am ambitious now. I don't want to lose. Send academy players out on loan, let another club be responsible for fucking around and finding out, let Lyon keep their winning heritage. That heritage will be lost if experienced players are pushed out in favor of developing academy kids.

Another argument I saw on Twitter, and one I strongly disagree with, is that if Miquel had Lyon's resources at her disposal, then the sky's the limit. it goes back to an earlier point - why should Lyon be responsible for Miquel's learning curve? If there was an intermediate club with bigger resources than Reims - like, say, AS Roma, or Ajax - then I think that would be a far better stepping stone. Otherwise it's literally handing Miquel the keys to a Maserati and hoping she passes her driving test in it.

'Miquel deserves a shot at coaching Lyon". No, respectfully, she doesn't. She did well against a - and I am being generous - good team. That cannot be grounds for coaching what was is arguably one of, if not the, best teams in women's football. You don't deserve a shot. You earn it from experience.

Or at least that should be the philosophy if you want Lyon to keep winning. Now, and in the future.

[endeavour12345fics]

Saving a life, chapter 4

A few weeks went by, and Eleazar was getting stronger as they passed. He still slept a lot but was able to spend longer and longer periods awake. Philip was with him when he wasn’t in class or sleeping.

One of these days, he had brought a poetry book he’d got in Hogsmeade, Idylls of the King, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. As he started reading “The Passing of Arthur” aloud, softly so that he didn’t disturb Eleazar, the old man looked at him.

“What are you reading?” he asked, with a note of excited curiosity in his voice.

“’The Passing of Arthur’, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” Philip replied with a smile.

“I see.” Eleazar said, after glancing at the text. “Would you like me to read King Arthur’s lines?”

“Only if you feel strong enough to do so. There’s quite a lot of lines. Please don’t overexert yourself, dad.” Philip couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice.

“I think I can do it.” Eleazar said, smiling. Philip moved his chair so that the two of them could see the text in the book.

Philip started reading, his voice soft and calm: “That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,/…”

When it was his turn, Eleazar started his own lines. “"I found Him in the shining of the stars,/I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields,/But in His ways with men I find Him not./I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.” He kept going, his voice growing stronger with every word. When he finished the first verse, he helped himself to a glass of water on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” Philip asked, not being able to contain himself.

“I feel good, but tired. This was fun, but maybe we can continue later.”

Philip nodded, marking the page, and closing the book. “Please rest. I will still be here if you need me.” He tucked him in the blankets, then sat down again.

After a few hours (Nurse Blainey had meanwhile checked on them), Aesop appeared. He smiled at Philip, glanced at Eleazar, and conjured a chair for himself.

“Thank Merlin he’s sleeping.” he said in a low voice. “I have something for him, but if he was awake it would ruin the surprise. I’ll be right back.”

He left for a few minutes, coming back rolling his wheelchair in front of him. “I thought it may cheer him up.” He sat down and waited for Eleazar to wake up.

When he did, the first thing he noticed was Aesop sitting next to him, for he wasn’t there when he’d fallen asleep.

 “Hello, Aesop. You look rather pleased.”

“I am, and you’ll soon see why.” Aesop replied, getting up and rolling the wheelchair closer to his friend.

Eleazar looked at it, then back at Aesop, then at Philip, both of them smiling.

“Do you want to try it?”

“In fact, I do. This bed is really comfortable, but I’m growing rather tired of it.”

“Alright. Please put your arm around Philip’s shoulders.” he instructed, as he put Eleazar’s other arm around his own shoulders.

“Are you ready?” he asked the two of them, who both nodded. “Let’s do it on 3. 1.., 2.., 3!”

Eleazar found himself sitting in the wheelchair. The three of them smiled widely.

“I want to record this moment.” Aesop said, almost solemnly. He took a charcoal pencil and a piece of parchment from his pocket, and sketched fast, the lines quickly becoming a recognisable drawing. When he finished, he showed it to Eleazar and Philip, who nodded approvingly.

“I will copy it into a proper sheet of parchment and clean it up. Then you can hang it in your rooms or in your dormitory.” He said, smiling at both of them.

When it was time for lights out in the hospital wing, Philip stayed with Eleazar until he was asleep, then went to his common room.

He had been as surprised as Eleazar had and couldn’t forget his dad’s smile as he sat in the wheelchair. He was recovering well, and Philip was really happy for him.

Notes: The poem mentioned and quoted is "Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur", by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Here's a link to the full poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45325/idylls-of-the-king-the-passing-of-arthur There's also a song I really like, based on part of this poem: https://open.spotify.com/track/2wxxqsy0JGHba7WYTTDDZ9?si=298d44c95a724113

[ask-de-writer]

WIND MEETS THE ROM : Part 19 of 27 :

MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

WIND MEETS THE ROM

Part 19 of 27

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

54212 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 06/01/18

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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They had just set out a big serving bowl filled with the salad, which now had some dried fruits and chopped nuts in a sauce poured into it and tossed together, when the first of the Royal Road Police came trotting into the wayside.

Lunch was a pleasant affair. Their guests were polite and appreciative of both the meal and the stories that flew about the dining area. They had their own stock of humorous tales of policing the roads.

Wind was pleasantly surprised by the nature of those stories. These police were unlike any that she had experience of. They spent most of their efforts in actively assisting the ponies and Rom who used the roads.

The Southern Haymarket Section Captain was just finishing up with, “We managed to get that wheel true enough to get him to the wheelwright's shop! As he started to pull, his right draw strap gave out! Turned out, he had not been waxing the canvass full length properly and some recent rains caused it to rot out at the wagon end!”

Wind was listening in fascination. No fines or such. Just working to keep the traffic on the busy Royal Roads moving properly or helping get a damaged wagon to the side of the road while the necessary workponies were summoned to fix the problem.

She whispered to Hanar, “Why didn't they write up fines for that pony's negligence?”

She whispered back, “Princess Luna is the High Commissioner of the Royal Roads. She figures that the cost of repairs is fine enough. Most new long haul ponies sort out that proper equipment maintenance pays off by not needing repairs. That strap though, that was just bad luck. The ponies mostly won't use leather and fabrics simply will not last. With the best of maintenance a woven harness will only last for a year or a bit more.

“The RRP will write up fines where ponies break the Royal Road laws on purpose or if somepony has the same problem several times in a row. They will really land hard on ponies that try to dodge the Section Tolls. Likewise, they will come down hard on Section Gatekeepers who try to collect improper tolls or any tolls and fees on Rom.”

The Haymarket Section Captain overheard and put down the berry pie that he was eating to explain, “If most of what we do is help the traffic on the Royal Road to run smoothly, nopony or any other is afraid of us. They see us as friends who will help if they have a problem. You would be surprised how often they will tip us off to other ponies who ARE breaking the laws, just because of that trust.”

Wind bowed her head to him. “I am beginning to really respect both you and your Princesses. This is the only world that I have seen where police work like you do. I see why we Rom like you so much.”

He returned her courtesy with curiosity, “How do police work on the other worlds that you have been to?”

Wind shrugged. “Most are like the town constables that I have seen. Over full of their own importance, always throwing their weight around and trying to snag some sort of bribe.”

He grimaced, “We do get some of that sort that sneak past our training. We don't tolerate them and both report and discharge them. The report will keep them out of other Royal Service too. The armed services don't need looters and that is what they will become.”

Marchhare spoke around his seconds on apricot filled pastry and Rom black tea, “And that, Captain, is why you and your officers are welcome in our camps and to share meals with us.”

Lunch over, Wind took her comfortable and expected place by Hanar's side. To a fun road song about what Marchhare hates, they were on their way. Wind's sharp hearing picked out Marchhare's voice belting out the humorous and slanderous verses!

She was caught by surprise by the next song being one of the new versions of Wind's Wings. That was followed by the Shehan Ja Rom. When it was just done, Wind's hearing caught Marchhare's quiet grumble of, “I still say that I would have noticed something like dying!”

During the small lull in songs, Hanar told her, “Our next fair will be Morton's Swale. They are an old town. The original town was completely washed away in a huge flood about 800 years ago. The ponies that lived there almost all got to high ground before the worst of it came through their town.

“To give you an idea of how big the flood was, look up on those hills. See that sort of bench thing that is the same height all along from hill to hill?”

Wind did look. In awe, she also looked at the other side of the river valley. Pointing, she spoke in a small voice, “That is a high water bench over there, too. Isn't it?”

Hanar nodded. “Correct, Wind. This whole valley was inundated for hundreds of kilometers. The water was full of uprooted trees, wreckage from places washed away and every sort of debris. It was over twenty meters deep along here. In places where it was pinched by the land shapes, it hit over forty meters deep.”

As she leaned into the harness, Wind wondered aloud, “How could a flood like that happen?”

Hanar, holding her perfect pace, responded, “Up north of here a ways, on the Sunset Mountains side of the river is a place where a whole bunch of big canyons called the Maze all come out at one place. That is the Red Branch Notch. The Princesses spent five years building a dam there. Water from it could have opened up millions of hectares of land to farming.

“The dam was ALMOST finished. It needed a bit more fill on the northern end and to settle for another year to pack the dam's earth fill solidly. The Weather Authority was under strict orders to keep all rain away from those canyons that fed into the dam.

“Our ancestors, the original seven horses that became the Rom and Marchhare, were coming to Equestria as told in the Shehan Ja Rom. They were just past the divide and coming down the long slope.

The Weather Authority was planning to put a really huge amount of surplus water up well north of the Maze. Four of the pegassi working to move the cloud formation into place tried to play a prank on Marchhare by drenching the caravans of those first Rom. They only planned for a little rain that likely would not have caused any damage but they did not understand what they were doing. Their prank got away from them.

“They drained almost all of the huge weather system into the canyon that Marchhare and the others were at the head of. It only took a few hours to do. The whole Maze filled up and the unfinished dam failed in only minutes under the enormous pressure of the water. That is where the flood came from.”

Wind blinked a few times as she digested the tale. “So, your ancestors fled a drought and nearly got washed away by the biggest flood in Equestrian history?”

Hanar chuckled as she retorted, “Right. Do not think that the irony of that is lost on us, either!”

It was not long before they came to the gate for the Morton's Swale Fairgrounds. The pony at the gate was actually quite civil as he directed them to their usual place down at the end of the marked out midway.

The band was going through the usual happy madhouse of setting up. Wind and Hanar had her booth up and were starting to move in the tables and display stands.

There was something new to Wind. A modest sized wheel worked by a treadle was connected to a small wheel by a belt of twisted string. The small wheel drove a u shaped contraption with one of Hanar's thread bobbins in the middle of it.

Hanar promised, “I will show you what it is and what it does in a bit, Wind. It helps me to make the threads that I need for my weaving.”

Hanar's booth was all set and ready to begin sales. She had her fabrics and trims set up in their racks, the measuring and cutting table in the center, and off to one side, was the wheel contraption.

Since the fair was not to open until the next day, Hanar took out a bundle of the smooth fine fibers that she had freed from those nettle stalks collected a few days past.

Back then, after she had removed the surprisingly large amount of fibers, she had continued to crush the remainder of softened stalks and winnowed the goo that was left out of the tank with a sieve. That she passed on to another of the band who cheerfully took it, chortling, “Thank you, Hanar, dear. Will you need any of the paper that this will make?”

Wind was beginning to realize just how interconnected the assorted Rom actually were.

Now she watched in fascination as Hanar used her versitile magic to twist a thin leader of the fine, soft fiber. Holding the bundle, she threaded the lead thread through a hole in the center of the open end of the U shaped part and over a hooklike peg, one of several along the length of the device. From there, it was taken in and looped over itself around the shaft of the bobbin in the center of the U.

Hanar's forehoof began to rhythmically work the treadle, causing the big wheel to spin and the small one to nearly vanish, it was turning so swiftly! Hanar was watching the developing thread as she drew the bundle gently back. After about a half meter of thread was twisted, she carefully fed it in, letting the new thread wrap around the bobbin. As the thread neared the spinning device, Hanar began to let more spinning thread grow, then wind up, spinning and winding, spinning and winding.

She paused once in a while to move the thread to a new hook on the U before continuing to spin. Soon the bobbin was full. Hanar expertly removed it and replaced it with another, securing the end of the thread just as she had at first. She kept right on spinning thread until the dinner gong sounded!

She carefully stowed everything and the two raced for the serving line! As they were going about their tasks of serving dinner to the rest of the band, Hanar took a second to point in delight!

“Look down the Midway, Wind! The bands of Na Seri and De Innis are here! Those bands will love learning Wind's Wings! This will be a lovely fair! I wonder if any of the wood miners will be here?”

After the serving rush was over, Wind and Hanar found a nice place to eat their dinners. As she was sipping her Rom Black tea, Wind asked, “You mentioned wood MINERS? Don't you mean wood CUTTERS?”

Hanar snickered, “No, Wind, love. Remember that I told you about that flood, 800 years ago? Some of the trees that were washed out of the Maze were over a thousand years old. Huge things. A lot of them washed into Morton's Swale and jammed there. The log jam silted over before the flood was done.

“The ponies here discovered the buried trees about a hundred years later. Instead of rotting, the wood absorbed minerals from the soil and turned lovely colors. Nowdays, some of it is actually almost stone. If they have anything good looking, Marchhare is sure to want some.”

Wind snickered slightly and pointed out, “Bet that Rose will want almost all that they have. It sounds like just the sort of thing that she will want for her boxes.”

Hanar nodded. “When they do show up, it will almost be a stampede. Every luthier among the Rom prizes those woods. They swear that sound boxes and such sing sweeter when they are made with some of these woods.”

It was not long before a number of strange Rom, adults and foals alike showed up at Marchhare's camp. They were being led by mare with a curved horn, resplendent in soft blue sashes, trimmed and embroidered in shades of yellow, and a richly tooled and dyed harness.

They eagerly cornered Black Lotus and Hoof Dancer, demanding, “We have heard that you have new dance steps and a new tune! Please show us! We have the rest of the day and all night before the fair starts!”

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#WIND MEETS THE ROM#Part 19 of 27#MLP Fan Fiction#Written by De Writer