#just under 3k

[dragon-spaghetti]

Do you think sinners miss the night sky..?

(Please click for better quality!!)

[sonicchaoscontrol]

[Ch. 1, Page 31]

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There's 'this ain't my first rodeo' and then there's whatever this is

(Image formatted for mobile or fullscreen - view in new tab if you experience fuzzy resolution!)

[acapelladitty]

It was always inevitable that Silent Hill was going to capture me at some point in my life and it may as well be now 💀

[rox-of-iu]

bought "immortal life" as a gift for myself and I'm immediately obsessed

it's stardew valley style farm sim but xianxia (said by someone who never played stardew or farm sims this is guesswork lol)

anyway it's early access now but it will come out as a full game in Jan 2024! and I guess there is a possibility that the price will go up once it's a full game cuz that happens sometimes so if ur interested now is your chance hah (its on sale rn for 11,19€)

[mylittleredgirl]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @geneeste. :) i may have done this one before, but tumblr blog search was traditionally unhelpful and i have several very important things i should be doing, so here we are <3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 219

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 655,471

3. What fandoms do you write for?

stargate atlantis is the runaway lead, then sg-1, 90s/00s treks, the x-files, and a grab bag of other things. only two fics so far for m*a*s*h but the forecast looks good!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

no sooner met (star trek voyager, j/c, eight years of friends-to-lovers in 5k or less)

career day (stargate sg-1, clone!sam/jack, damn that sure was a choice to go back to high school amirite)

next chapter (the good place, chidi/eleanor, the intimacy of reading)

first date (star trek voyager, j/c, falling in love again)

occupational hazards (the good place, chidi/eleanor, eleanor would rather not be the architect)

5. Do you respond to comments?

eventually!!!! i tend to keep nice ones on my home page for a while to cheer me up and then sometimes they get buried. i wake up nights like "damn the good place fandom really went all out with amazing comments on that random fic in like 2018 and i never replied," so maybe i need to go through my inbox and belatedly clear my cosmic debts.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

twilight (stargate atlantis, sheppard/weir, what if john didn't break the cycle). strong on style but real weak on comfort.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

weaving loose ends (stargate sg-1, sam/jack) ends with a wedding! in twenty years of writing romance fic, that has maybe only happened once?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not yet! but the year is young.

a fic of mine did cause a dramatic fandom schism once, in the dancing with the stars fandom no less. a splinter fan group created in exile! a mod claiming to be personal friends with the stars! everybody storming out and then blocking each other! so my fic did cause hate, but somehow i personally escaped unscathed. i didn't even get blocked. (lesson: in some spaces, rpf is encouraged until They Fuck. second lesson: if you start a fire and then stay very quiet, everyone forgets about you.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do!! i guess!! but i'm struggling with it right now and it's giving me a complex. and "what kind" is like......... vanilla het fic for the most part tbh. gauzy curtain vibes, even. basically, i have to really sit and think about whether to rate something M or E, you know?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

yes, but not since the x-files days. rip geocities webrings we salute you for your years of service.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but i think i'd like to! passing chapters back and forth sleepover style like "haha write your way out of THIS" would be fun. (or collaborating in a more mundane way, i guess....)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

john sheppard/elizabeth weir (stargate atlantis). first fic in the tag and i'm still fuckin there. three years on tv and a lifetime in my goddamn brain.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

realistically, i'm feeling pretty down on the chances that i'll ever finish ANY wip that's longer than 20k, but the two long ones withering on the vine that i'd like to finish are a sam/jack sg1 episodic soulmate fic and "what if janeway went undercover with the maquis instead of tuvok: the novel."

16. What are your writing strengths?

stealing one of geneeste's answers because "character complexity" is a good one! i don't feel satisfied with any fic unless i feel like i have learned something new about a character, or highlighted it in a new way.

my more specific strength, according to @coraclavia, is missing-scene fics that weave through an entire series canon to make a thesis statement (they are In Love).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

😭 i can't write anything long 😭 i really wish i were different 😭 i envy those of you with staying power who can return to a story after going to work or writing something else and keep plugging away at it. i used to write sprawling things when i was a teen, but since becoming Adult With Job now many years ago, i've totally lost that skill!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

haaaahahahaha. talk about a weakness. i literally couldn't bring myself to write a fic that required dialogue in Ancient from stargate, a language that -- i cannot stress this enough -- is not even real. i'm like "well maybe i'll study latin for three years and then analyze all the episodes where they speak it to reverse engineer the differences so i can write the bastardized space latin correctly" GIRL WHY. JUST FUCK IT UP.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

first completed story that i recall would have been star trek voyager in my early teens, and by the grace of rural internet and some kind of prescient sense of self-preservation, it does not live online. first internet-published fic was several years later, for the x-files. for better or worse, that one can still be found.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i think pieces (stargate atlantis, sheppard/weir, catharsis through sex pollen) might be the new best, and i had a lot of fun writing erasers on pencils (stargate sg-1, clone!sam/jack, catharsis through truancy).

--

i am sure many of my fic-writer-meme friends have done this already but @ussjellyfish if your answers have changed since whenever you did it last; i'd love to hear how @havocthecat, @anretc, and @coraclavia would answer this; and blowing dandelion meme seeds over the fence to the mash fandom: @remyfire!

[spadefish]

Need to figure out a way to acquire enough money for top surgery + hysto without losing my foodstamps

[i-dare-say]

I'm finally able to write my fic again! God, the ao3 author curse is real.

And why do I want cool things to happen but these two motherfuckers are just talking??

[gothamcityneedsme]

i am trying again in earnest to close tabs so. expect that during work hours lol

[boyobjectifier]

.

[queen-scribbles]

okay just one more: 19. "Your voice is so calming." for my beloved Tragen and his beloved Jaesa (oooor Tragen/Marii 😉)

Did I take the excuse to further enable Tragen/Marii? Yes, yes I did. Did I make it self-indulgent as hell? Also yes. Did I hoard this for two weeks to post as your birthday present? Also ALSO yes. Happy birthday, darling, I love you and hope I got your girl right.🧡💕💖 ----

Marii had a bad feeling about this meeting from the moment she and Tragen stepped off her ship.

She couldn't put her finger on what, precisely, was behind the feeling, but that wasn't unusual. Tragen had picked up on it too; she could sense his shimmering caution before she said anything.

Good we're on the same page, she thought, resisting the urge to rest her hands on her lightsaber hilts as they walked down the hall under escort.

This was ostensibly a diplomatic meeting, with all the trappings. But Marii couldn't shake the nudge from the Force there was a more nefarious intent to the (armed) soldiers keeping pace alongside them, the location chosen for the meeting... Their hosts were hiding something and it had her memorizing details as they walked. How many doors, how do they seal, how many guards, are there blind corners--

"Aramarii." Tragen's voice pulled her from her calculations and she realized they'd reached the room that was their apparent destination.

"Sorry. Admiring the architecture," she said, as if this wasn't one of the blandest, most run-of-the-mill space outposts she'd set foot on.

A smirk pulled the corners of Tragen's mouth, but the escorts were unamused. They halted the progress in the vestibule prior to the main chamber and one held up a hand.

"You will leave weapons here before meeting the Leader-Elect," he said.

Like hell. Marii rolled her eyes. Normally it wouldn't be a problem, but with the feeling curled in her gut she was hesitant to comply this time. She couldn't see Tragen's face from half a step behind, but she hardly needed to.

"Beg pardon?" he asked in that rich, rolling tone that was somehow soothing and sent sparks of heat skittering down her spine at the same time.

"Your weapons," the guard repeated, unfazed by the heavy tonal hint to reconsider. "You will leave them here." He looked pointedly at the dualsaber hanging from Tragen's belt.

"Your coalition has made acts of aggression against my people in the past," Tragen said levelly. "While I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt, and discuss a possible alliance if your feelings toward us have changed, I would be unwise to walk into such a meeting unarmed."

The guard was implacable, mildly mocking smile that had Marii's hackles rising. "And we would be unwise to allow such a powerful individual access to our leader so armed, Commander. We are well aware that both you and your... bodyguard" --he flicked a look at Marii before returning to staring at Tragen-- "have a connection to the Force. You will hardly be defenseless." He gestured to a small case. "Your weapons will remain."

Tragen stared the man down a few moments longer, undoubtedly running risks and benefits, then nodded. "Very well." He unclipped the dualsaber and set it where the man indicated.

The bad feeling spiked until Marii could almost physically taste it and had to swallow it back. "Are you sure?" she murmured to Tragen, moving with far greater reluctance to leave her twin shotos with the dualsaber.

"Sure of their intentions, no," he murmured back, and the shiver that rippled down her spine had nothing to do with the situation, "Sure in our abilities?" He smiled and reached to smooth wayward hair back from her face. "Absolutely."

"On your lead then, Commander," she said, casting a last look at their weapons as she followed him into the main chamber.

Leader-Elect Brin sat behind a small podium on a raised dais, but rose to bow in greeting when they entered, flanked by guards with blasters in hand and electrostaves slung on their backs. "I must admit pleasant surprise you agreed to this meeting, Commander Xo'ric. Sith are not known for giving second chances. Although," he cocked his head as he returned to his seat, "given who is allowed to join and remain at your side, I suppose it's clear you are different."

"It... would be correct to say I am not a typical Sith," Tragen said carefully, tone the most guarded Marii had ever heard it.

She almost snorted a laugh at the sheer understatement of the words.

"Our good fortune, then," Leader-Elect Brin said with a smile that didn't set her at ease in the slightest, "that the Alliance is led by a merciful Sith, who is willing to come hear us out despite past... differences."

"Merciful but not naïve," Tragen said. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tenseness to him in the Force that told Marii his concerns were no more assuaged than hers. "Given your coalition's previous opinion of the Alliance, and openly hostile actions, it is curious to have you reach out so abruptly."

"You are wise indeed to wonder," Brin said. He had that same almost-mocking look as the guard in the vestibule, like he knew a secret he wouldn't be sharing. All of them did, come to think; Brin, the original escort, the guards in the vestibule and here flanking the dais. "Let us say you have impressed us, Commander. Impressed me, with your resilience, resourcefulness, determination. Especially now that you no longer hide behind the Eternal Fleet and that warship. Your people are fortunate to have such a leader."

We certainly are, Marii thought with a smirk of her own.

Tragen held up a hand, giving a small grateful nod. "Not that the compliment is unappreciated, Leader-Elect, but there was a reason you asked to meet, wasn't there?"

"There was." Brin stood, stepped around the decorative podium. The atmosphere shifted as he did so, making Marii's ears pop.

She fought the urge to scowl at the sensation. Wouldn't want them to think she disapproved of the meeting when it was the brief rush of unbalance. Her hearing implants dulled the effect somewhat, but she wasn't entirely immune to the underwater-y muffling feel that came with air pressure changes.

The thought clicked in as Brin halted, hands folded in front of him and that mocking half-smile on full display. They were on a space outpost. A sealed, atmospherically controlled space outpost. There could only be such a shift by design or catastrophic damage.

It was followed swiftly by the realization that hadn't been an atmospheric shift--she couldn't feel the Force danger-nudge that had been there since they stepped off her ship. Now it was her instincts, her gut, screaming at her that something was wrong. She moved closer to Tragen in the same moment he shifted his weight to be leaning toward her.

"Does your Alliance know how fortunate they are? Do they..." Brin chuckled. "...value you enough?"

"I'm hardly a mind-reader," Tragen deflected. He was scanning the room, as Marii was, for details, ways out, where the guards stood. "But I would say so, based on the differences they've put aside, the support and dedication they've shown to both me and the ideals of the Alliance."

"Really?" Brin scoffed. "Because I heard that when you went missing, it only took a couple hours for them to listen to the first power-hungry politician who clawed her way into their attention span."

"And who is now in prison," Tragen said coolly, arms crossed and weight leaned on one leg so his shoulder almost brushed Marii's. He still sounded so calm. "I don't believe Saresh's footsteps are ones you'd wish to follow."

"Of course not." Brin flicked one hand in a dismissive gesture. One that apparently also cued the escort to step close once more. "I don't want your fickle Alliance, Commander. I want their credits. Their resources. So I hope, for your sake, they value your as highly as they should."

Ransom? Seriously? Marii struggled not to let the incredulity show on her face.

"I assume you're aware of the galaxy-wide resource crisis, Brin?" Tragen drawled. He leaned ever so slightly further back, his shoulder brushing hers. Be ready. "The Alliance is not immune to it simply because we stand independent of Empire and Republic. Do you really think we have the excess to pay a ransom?"

Brin laughed at the skepticism in his voice. "I think if they value you as highly as you believe they do, your people will find it somewhere. Trim different budgets. Skim a little on bribes. Cut an operation or two. Thank you for being so obliging as to leave your weapons outside," he added as the vestibule door slammed shut. "We would prefer this go with as little fuss as possible. And the Force will be no help to you; I've made some new friends who saw to that."

Marii instinctively glanced around the room but didn't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Brin wasn't lying though; there was an emptiness when she experimentally reached for the Force that made her stomach turn.

"Mm, you really thought of everything." Tragen's tone was still level, but familiarity had Marii catching the faint edge of amusement.

Because they hadn't actually thought of everything.

The guards were closer now, blasters in hand.

Marii kept her breathing even, her stance relaxed even as internally she coiled to spring. She was pretty sure she knew what Tragen was planning.

"I do my best," Brin preened. "Especially where providing for my people is concerned. Do all of us a favor, Commander, and come quietly so we do not have to harm you." He gestured to the quartet of guards, who closed the rest of the distance. The nearer two extended their blasters to nudge Tragen and Marii along.

They struck in tandem, in such perfect sync no one watching would believe this was improvised with no prior communication, grabbing the guards' guns and yanking them forward by the barrels. Marii's got off a shot that went half a meter wide, his grip deadlocked on the hilt. That was fine, she didn't want the blaster.

She stripped the electrostaff off his back even as she knocked his legs from under him. The weapon hummed readily to life, its weight different from a dualsaber or training stave, but not enough to be a problem.

Tragen stood at her back, having performed a similar move. "Can you get the door?" he asked even as Brin shouted and the rest of the guards rushed forward.

"'Course," she grinned. Slicing a door was one of the first things Theron had made sure she could do when she joined. "If you can hold them off?"

He grinned back, electrostaff humming as he spun it around his hand. "Of course."

As if four on one odds were no serious concern.

Marii nodded and hurried to the door controls. She confirmed it was actually locked before pulling off the panel and digging for the wires she needed. (Nothing more embarrassing than putting extra effort into a door you could've just opened.) Fortunately this station was truly run of the mill in all areas, not just visual design. It only took a few seconds to find the right wires--even when distracted by watching Tragen fight--and shift connections to bypass the lock.

"Tragen!" she called, already dodging through the door as it opened.

He'd follow. She'd deal with the guards waiting in the vestibule. Who both fired the second she came charging through.

Good instincts. She blocked one, but the other singed her hair it flew so close. She cracked the guard across the face, wincing a little at the sizzle of contact and cry of pain. But the staff was set on stun, and they were trying to kidnap her and Tragen, so she wasn't going to feel too bad for him.

The other guard swung wildly with his own electrostaff and she ducked, the lethal crackle passing over her head.

Marii pivoted, sweeping one foot in a spin kick aimed at his ankles before she straightened. She only caught a glancing hit, made him stumble, but that bought her a couple seconds before his next strike. Which, in turn, gave her time to block.

"We want him alive!!" Brin's voice bellowed from the main chamber, even as there was a (muffled) cry of pain and Tragen emerged into the vestibule. It wasn't fair for someone to look so good disheveled, it really wasn't.

The distraction of his arrival gave Marii an opening to knock aside the guard's staff and land a solid hit to his gut that took him down.

"I think they like you better," she teased, spinning the electrostaff with a flourish.

Tragen rolled his eyes but couldn't entirely hide a smile. "Get the door, Aramarii," he said, scooping their lightsabers from the case.

"Not that I blame them," she drawled as she checked the door controls and pried off the panel. "You're far more charming."

He huffed a laugh. "I don't know about far more, but," he swung a one-handed strike at a guard who followed them through, "you are trouble."

The door hissed open.

"Very useful trouble," Marii grinned. She grabbed his arm and dragged him after her into the hall.

She could still feel the Force's absence, throbbing at her temples. She shook it off, calling up her memory of the layout. They'd passed two or three rooms on the way that might lead to barracks or somewhere with more guards--

"Stop them!! Take them alive!" blared over the comm system. Tragen and Marii were only halfway to the nearest blast door when it shut.

"This way!" Marii checked her stride and pivoted so sharply Tragen almost ran into her. If this was your bog-standard space outpost, there'd be a more circuitous--but harder to lock down--route to the hanger over here. They just had to get there and out before the hanger could be locked down.

It was a bog-standard outpost. The door opened to reveal a hallway headed the direction she expected. They didn't waste any time taking it, Tragen now fallen half a step behind to follow her lead.

Behind them rose the clamor of doors opening, comm chatter, pursuit on general. It drove them faster, Tragen surely aware of the same thing looming in her thoughts. Hanger lockdown only took a minute or so at most. They were on a very tight chrono if Brin thought to alert them.

Of course, it might've been locked down from the moment they were out of sight upon arrival. That would be the smart thing to do, in case things went muja-shaped. But Brin struck Marii as just arrogant enough to think it an unnecessary precaution. She counted doors as they ran, noting at a fleeting glance one open room looked to be a rec center with game tables, one a vivarium, lizard-like creatures lounging on trees, one-- Ah.

"Keep going!" she called to Tragen even as she braked to dodge inside one of the rooms. He didn't argue, but she caught the concerned furrow of his brow before losing sight.

A quick trip-strike combo knocked out the comm center operator, and Marii jammed the electrostaff deep into the guts of the console and left it there as she bolted back out and after Tragen.

"Left!" she hollered as he approached a crossways intersection. The guards dangerously close on her heels had to hear, but it was the last turn before a straight shot to the ship. She dug for an extra burst of speed and narrowed the gap halfway as they closed in on the hanger access.

Tragen half-turned as she drew closer, relief she'd caught up shifting to worry when his gaze went back over her shoulder. "Marii--!"

The metallic ting of a grenade being primed was her only further warning before the flash-bang exploded against the floor next to her. Marii's vision went white, heavily interspersed with colored spots, ears ringing from the proximity. She hung onto enough of her wits to guess the hand that grabbed her arm, pulling her the direction they'd been heading, probably belonged to Tragen.

"This way." That was his voice, still level and soothing despite the circumstances. Barely starting to breathe hard. "Any other turns?"

Marii shook her head, almost gasping as they stepped beyond whatever was dampening the Force and it came back in a rush. "Last door," she said, throwing one hand out to trip the controls with the Force as they reached it.

Tragen gave an appreciative grunt. "Good timing," he muttered. It made her wonder how much--or little--he'd felt the Force-loss in the first place. There were some benefits to a lesser connection.

The white was starting to clear from her vision but the spots remained as they raced up the ramp of her ship.

"I'll get us flying," Tragen said, hand reluctantly slipping from her arm. "Can you get to a seat?"

Marii nodded, blinking rapidly. Her head ached, her vision still dim and spotty, but she knew the Defender well enough to navigate blindfolded. (A boast she and Kira had actually tested, once upon a time.) "I'll be fine."

Tragen headed for the bridge with rapid steps, and by the time Marii had strapped in one of the holo-room jump seats, the engines were whining and the hip lurched into motion. She'd've flown it smoother, but she wasn't about to complain at his piloting skill if he was getting them out of here.

She could feel his urgency, the hesitation at semi-familiar controls, and then relief, briefly, that she assumed meant they were out of the hanger. Probably being pursued, if he was still tense. Or he was worried about being fired upon, but outposts like this weren't usually armed--

The Stranger dropped in a sharp dodge to the left. Maybe this one was. Guess Brin gave up on taking us alive. Or thinks they can just cripple us...

But there were no further spikes of emotion from Tragen or sharp changes from the ship.

Still blinking to clear spots from her eyes, Marii unbuckled and moved to the more comfortable bench seat curved around the table. She closed her eyes to block out the pulsing light of the archive bank (light in general) and rested her forehead against the table. Grateful as she was to not have the throbbing Force-absence anymore, the flashbang aftereffects were more than enough to give her a headache.

Fortunately the ringing ears had cleared up with no sign of actual damage to her implants. She heard footsteps clear as day when Tragen joined her.

"We're clear, and I've plotted course." The headache retreated slightly as he spoke. There was a pause, the seat cushion shifting as he sat next to her. "Are you alright, Aramarii?"

"I will be," Marii mumbled into the table. "Soon as the headache clears."

"Good to hear," he said with a sympathetic chuckle, and the ache receded again. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, the warm weight making her bite her lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just... keep talking," Marii said. Stars, she'd never normally admit this, but he deserved an explanation. "You... your voice is calming. Soothing." So soothing. "It's... helping clear things up."

"Ah." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Of course. What would you like me to talk about?"

It really was unfair, the things his voice did to her. "I don't care, anything. Are you alright?" She cracked an eye to look at him, but things were still spotty. He looked fine. "Did I miss any recent Vette shenanigans? Oh-! Why do you seem to like my ship better than yours?"

It was something she'd noticed, the handful of times they'd handled missions together, only once had they used the Celestial Dawn. And that had been a mission to Ziost, in the heart of Imperial space. (Neither of them had spoken much. Ziost was an unpleasant memory for them both.) A couple times they'd used a shuttle, but otherwise, through casual suggestion or off-hand declaration on his part, they'd wound up using the Wayfaring Stranger. Not that she cared; it was a familiar ship to fly, and the Alliance was paying for fuel. It just made her wonder.

Tragen chuckled again, his hand starting to move in long slow sweeps up and down her back as he thought. It took a moment before he spoke. "A few reasons, I suppose. The foremost being appearances. This blends in better most places we go. And for those who do recognize it..." He hesitated, hand still moving in slow sweeps on her back. "A Jedi's arrival inspires hope more often than not, and a Sith's fear. Given what I'm... we're trying to accomplish with the Alliance, I would far rather the former."

There was a note of melancholy in the words that made her wonder how long he'd been stuck with the mere sight of his ship striking fear when all he really wanted was to help. It made her heart squeeze and she slid her hand over to rest on his leg.

"The other reasons are, admittedly, more selfish," Tragen continued, tone a bit sheepish but still warm. "The Dawn is an Imperial military vessel by design, and no amount of renaming it or Vette strong-arming me and Jaesa into movie nights will change that, not really. It's... austere. Livable, but all sharp edges and hard angles and dim lights and..." He sighed. Marii rolled her head to the side to peek at him, just in time to catch his free hand raking through his hair, gaze fixed on the far wall. "The Stranger's more..."

"Homey?" she offered.

"For lack of a better term. Welcoming. Comfortable." He shifted on the cushioned bench, thigh pressing against hers. "Better lit."

"Mmm." It made her smile that he specifically singled that out. "Can't you change it? If it bothers you that much? At least the lights. You aren't on Imperial payroll, so to speak, anymore. It's not like it would raise eyebrows."

"I've thought about it," Tragen said, his touch faltering as it traced up her spine. "But it would have to be completely stripped and... remodeled, and I'm not so selfish as to waste resources on such a project that could be put to better use elsewhere."

"Just selfish enough to regularly borrow my ship b'cause yours is gloomy," Marii teased. The headache was gone, as was the spots-infused vision, and she straightened.

"Ah, but your ship comes with the added bonus of your company," Tragen countered, amusement glittering in his eyes.

She almost put her head right back down on the table, to hide a blush rather than fight a headache this time. You can have that anyway. "So there's an ulterior motive," she said playfully.

"I told you it was selfish," he drawled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Marii gave a faux-gasp. "You mean you aren't perfect?"

Tragen chuckled, fingers lingering against her jaw. "I know that's the popular rumor, but no." He smirked a little and tipped her chin up. "I did, after all, abuse my authority to get the partner I wanted for this."

She had been a little surprised when he brought her instead of Lana for what was supposedly a diplomatic meeting. But then, if he suspected something wasn't right about their invitation, the two of them did make a good team in a fight.

"Scandalous," she murmured, smiling. His voice always did things to her, but pitched low and just for her like this never failed to make her toes curl. "But it can be our little secret."

"Mm. Good." His hand slid to cup the side of her neck as he guided her in for a kiss.

Marii leaned into it, hand pressing his thigh for balance, trying to get closer but stymied by the table and the bench's curved design. It was so hard to find time for them, with the Alliance spread in so many directions, nurture what had started months ago in the training room with a sparring match and blurted 'You think I'm beautiful?'. If the time traveling to and from a (botched) diplomatic mission was all she got, she'd be damned if she didn't take it. She slid partway into his lap to work around the bench problem, arm circling his neck for balance as their legs tangled under the table.

Tragen laughed into the kiss before pulling back just enough to murmur, "I take it your headache is gone, Aramarii?"

"Mmhm," she hummed, shiver rolling down her spine when he said her name like that. "But maybe you should keep talking, just to make sure it doesn't come back."

He gave her a fond smile, thumb rubbing arcs on her cheek. "There is one more reason I like your ship, and by extension, working with you." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I don't have to fly the ship."

Marii curled in with a laugh until her forehead rested against his shoulder. "That's right, one of your weaknesses," she needled. "Sorry it didn't completely work out for you this time. Though you did alright getting us out of there."

"Hmm, thank you," Tragen said with a huffed laugh. "I was more motivated than usual; didn't want your ship getting damaged. Oh, our lightsabers are still up there, on the copilot's seat unless my flying knocked them off-"

He shifted as if to go get them and Marii grabbed the front of his shirt to keep him sitting. "As long as they're on the ship it's fine. They're not going anywhere."

"You're alright with lightsabers potentially rolling around the bridge of your ship?" he drawled, brows arched.

"We're in hyperspace, Tragen," she pointed out. "It's smooth sailing from here to Odessen." But he did have a point. She just wasn't ready for this to be done yet. "...Alright, maybe we should get them somewhere more secure. Then we can relocate" --she kissed his temple-- "to my quarters, maybe."

Tragen chuckled, his thumb rubbing small circles on the nape of her neck. She hadn't even noticed his arm slipping around her shoulders. "Not done with me yet?"

Not by a long shot. "Have to take what I can before the responsibility and datawork get their claws into us," Marii said dryly. She tapped her heel against his calf. "All I'm thinking is there's more room to stretch out."

Comfortable as the seat was, they were both of a height to make this niche a tight fit for cuddling attempts.

"Mmm, tempting." He nudged her closer to steal another kiss, this one almost chaste. "I like how you think."

Both the words and the tone in which they were uttered made something curl in Marii's gut. She couldn't think of a better--more clever--response then humming in gratitude as they untangled themselves and slid off the curved bench seat.

She wobbled slightly upon standing, equilibrium apparently still off from that damn flashbang. But she steadied herself quickly enough and followed Tragen to the bridge.

One shoto had dropped in the dip between seat and back of the copilot chair, but the other and Tragen's dualsaber had indeed rolled under the console and needed to be retrieved. The weapons locker was just outside Marii's quarters, making it an easy destination after they stowed their lightsabers.

Marii rubbed her temples when Tragen wasn't looking. Walking plus the console lights had the headache teasing the edges again. Not that she'd admit--

"Need me to talk about something again?" He was smiling sympathetically when she looked.

She huffed a sigh and dropped onto the bed, shoving off her boots. "I'd never turn it down. And, again, don't give a damn about topic. Winning dejarik strategies. Recite the plot of your favorite holovid or book, I don't care." Knowing him, he actually had those memorized. She was just annoyed the headache was coming back.

Tragen joined her, tugging off his boots as they settled in. "Once upon a time..."

Marii rolled her eyes and laughed as she whacked his arm.

He chuckled. "I'll think of something."

"I know you will."

Contrary to how it started, she had a good feeling about what was left of this trip.

[rosesradio]

The first draft of chapter 1 of Ivory Rain is complete, bringing the total word count to 5.7k

[fullwets]

what they don't tell you about ""starting a new ao3 tag"" is that starting a ship or character tag in an existing, strongly established fandom and starting a new tag in a completely unexplored fandom (no fic, no tumblr presence, no nothing) are two WILDLY different undertakings. mentally and emotionally. where do you even fucking start. maybe definitely this was a terrible thing to pick to get back into fic writing for.

[catdadeddie]

got a spotify presale code for sabrina... lets see how bad it is

[xaykwolf]

I think I'm starting to pinpoint why things have become progressively harder for me in my program.

So much of psychology doctorate school is learning why we do certain things and avoid other things, especially when we hold others' lives and well-being in space. It starts out simple: administer this test, score and interpret it this way, learn these diagnostic criteria, practice these basic interviewing skills and internalize these theoretical ways people conceptualize clients. After a while, though, the reins get let loose: okay, now apply these things to real people(!!!) and make sure not to hurt them while you do that.

Great. Cool. It's part of the program process, so just don't worry about it, it's FINE.

All oversight is then shifted toward making sure we're doing things the "right" way, whatever supervisors think that looks like. There's liability on the line, and so very often it becomes "how do I keep you from getting me sued while doing this work for me?" instead of "how do I help you develop into the clinician you're meant to be?"

At best, you get a supe that will provide constructive feedback in a warm manner, taking into consideration that this is literally your first or second year of doing therapy. At worst, well...you get my supervisor from two pracs ago (he's now on a blacklist for all doctorate programs in the Chicago area). But when you look at the totality of things, there's something big missing.

"Good job!"

Unadulterated positive feedback, praise that isn't nearly immediately followed up by some other critique or criticism of the work.

I KNOW these programs are here to push us, help us grow, and give us the best tools possible to make the most helpful and ethical choices when working with people. That's great, that's part of what I signed up for in all this, in fact. But at the end of the day, I've spent going on 9 years now pretty much not hearing any unmitigated compliments about my work. Despite the long nights and long semester cramming this information in my exhausted cranium and the years of training I've put in (and had to redo for reasons unrelated to my actual performance).

It almost feels like self-flagellation at this point. Which is to say, it's starting to really hurt.

I DON'T expect my supervisor to give me only praise, but I'm certainly not getting it from anywhere else either. And it's not the same coming from people who are otherwise not involved in my training somehow. The incentives and motives for positivity are different in a pretty significant way.

And it's leaving me progressively more tired with each passing semester.

[sol-flo]

btw going on masters lockdown mode this month and i've already got a late start but WILL NOT let that get to me because shame demotivates shame demotivates shame demotivates

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

okay whatever ive rewritten this story like 6 times i'm just posting whatever slop it is at this point