#look at what overlapped and what i resonated with most on both of them

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

@st-just, in reference to this post.

Here's my more in-depth review of The Faithless, if you're curious.

The Locked Tomb is something of a special case of queer norm fiction. It took me a while to figure out why I loved tlt so much when I was so cold on all other queer norm fiction, but I do have an answer.

The thing about tlt is that it's queer norm in the sense that queer characters and relationships are utterly unremarkable... but it's also not queer norm because there is no norm. The worldbuilding in tlt is deliberately sparse, such that we have no idea what a normal family or relationship within the Nine Houses even looks like! We know Harrow's parents were married and had her. We know that Magnus and Abigail are married but don't have children. We know that Corona and Ianthe have parents. We know that children can be grown artificially in vats. We know that marriage for political alliance is a concept that Harrow is aware of. And as far as I can remember, that's it! The worldbuilding is a black box, and nothing that we can glimpse in it is strained by unremarkable queerness, which is a very rare thing.

The Locked Tomb also injects other elements that resonate with me as authentically queer. Probably the biggest one is that the characters, in addition to being queer, are horny and weird about it. Like, I know that sounds trite to say, but of all the wlw books I've read, I would say a plurality are pretty chaste, and most of the ones that aren't are fairly tame or understated in the level and type of horniness on display. There's a lot to be said about the overlap between the queer community and the kink community that is way beyond the scope of this post, but without even touching Harrianthe bone sex and Nona's vore thing, one of the first things we learn about Gideon is that she owns porn magazines. It is vanishingly rare for fiction to acknowledge that people have or use pornography, let alone queer characters, let alone in a value neutral way, but a lot of queer people owe some part of their self-discovery to porn, in whatever form. The books are just full of unsanitized, "impure", queer desire, and that's both resonant and uncommon.

The last thing, I think, that makes tlt stand apart from queer norm fiction, is that the queer normalization is localized. In Nona the Ninth, we see life outside the Nine Houses, and it is messy. Pyrrha gets misgendered and stereotyped. Her gender identity is misunderstood and disrespected. The polite fiction of perfect understanding and tolerance of a lot of queer norm settings falls away completely. If you want to take a particularly meta read, you could argue that since the Nine Houses are not an emergent culture but a society designed and created by John, a queer man from our time, that he acted as an author and deliberately enforced queer norm standards on them because if he was going to be God, then god dammit he was gonna have his queer utopia about it.

The locked tomb deals with queerness in its setting in a really novel way that works very well for it specifically, and I really enjoy it. You could argue whether it counts as queer norm or not, because it very much blurs the lines. Something queer about that too, yeah?

[ipso-faculty]

A point a friend on discord made was

People with "mild" variations are often invalidated when they call themselves intersex and attacked, and not all people feel safe saying they are intersex for that reason and end up saying they are perisex. A term between the two would help with the safety of those people who do not feel safe and who are often forced to be put in a position they are not in.

Not all people with mild variations consider themselves intersex. However, they are not considered perisex because they have variations in sex.

Not everyone likes to use intersex. This is because they may find it very medicalizing (and sometimes the person has a variation in visible sex, but does not fit or does not want to see it fit into any medical term) or they may find it not medicalizing at all (some people really have problems with their sexual variation, causing disabilities, for example, and prefer to use more medical terms that define this). So, for those who feel that intersex is too medicalizing a term, you may prefer to use alternative terms

I'm the asker about spectrum and I wanted to let you know these points

Also. When I think about intersex as a spectrum, I meant in the linguistic/conceptual aspect. As like graysexual is in the asexual spectrum.

Myself, my intersex variation isn't studied yet (partial or mild EIS). And mesosex resonates with me. Even though in the end I could go with just being a dyadic ally or questioning/quoisex/extersex. I also feel as if like both the terms perisex and intersex could fit me

Some people also say sex is a statistically bimodal spectrum. What do you think about it?

Thanks for sharing! I'm glad the term mesosex resonates with you 😄 It's honestly really useful to hear from people who feel the term mesosex resonates with them. I put the word out there because I had a sense there's a demand but as somebody who feels solidly intersex I feel honestly weird having a say in a label I don't myself use.

If you didn't see it already, a mesosex person chimed into the original thread.

To me intersex is the anti-medicalizing term, especially in contrast to DSD, which to me is 100% medicalized. But that's just me!

Analogies about Biological Sex

So you also asked about my thoughts on sex as a "statistically bimodal spectrum", and the short answer is I think the term bimodal is misleading and possibly circular, and there are better analogies out there.

I already agree with what others have pointed out about sex not being a spectrum - a spectrum has one dimension (a line), and sex has dozens of dimensions (chromosomes, hormones, etc). Out of the analogies I've seen, I like most Hans Lindahl's train tracks analogy for sex development.

But I'm gonna guess that by "sex as a statistically bimodal spectrum" you mean "sex as a statistically probability distribution/density" and take this as something distinct from the sex-as-spectrum model.

As it turns out, I have a lot to say about "bimodal"

In my experience, people tend to have huge misconceptions about what statistically bimodal means. It understandably gets conflated a lot with the idea that there are two separate populations.

So let's think about height. People will say things like "height is bimodal" because they're conditioned to think that men and women are separate, and the average man is taller than the average woman.

And when they say things like "height is bimodal" they think the distribution for adults will look like this:

But here's what the adult human height distribution looks like:

The thing about normal/Gaussian distributions is that adding them together is tends to result in something that also looks normal/Gaussian.

If we look back at pink and blue distributions I hand drew, there's a visual sleight of hand going on there. Where the area under the curve is pink or blue, we can think of one pixel as representing one human in the data set. But in the part where they overlap, it's not one pixel per human, its one pixel for two humans - one from the womens' data set, one from the men's data set.

The result is that the size of the overlap looks half as small as it should be. It leads people to mistakenly think there is less overlap between men and women than there actually is.

So if we actually take that overlap and show how the distributions add together, we get something that immediately stops looking so "bimodal":

With the two probability distributions that I drew there might be a small dip in the middle, but it would be quite small. 🙃

Two probability distributions need to be really far apart for them to produce something that actually looks bimodal. (Specifically, the difference between the means needs to be smaller than twice the standard deviation - details here.)

True bimodal distributions are rare. They do exist in nature. But most of the time when people see a probability distribution with two peaks, it is a result of misleading visuals, noisy data, or poorly-binned histograms. 👀

In grad school I was taught that bimodality is a sign your data is suspicious: "Statisticians are trained to be suspicious of distributions with multiple modes. Such distributions usually indicate inhomogeneity in the system, or, in plainer language, different causes for the different modes. All familiar proverbs about the inadvisibility of mixing apples and oranges apply." (Gould, 1981)

In particular, the misinterpretation of (apparently) bimodal data has been used to confirm eugenicist ideas about racial differences, because when it comes to statistics we're always a step or two away from having to grapple with the legacy of eugenics. ⚠️

So let's get back the original question about seeing sex as statistically bimodal. The average person understands bimodal to mean "two populations", not statistical bimodality.

So before I even get into what sex even is, right off the bat this analogy is dangerously circular: sex is what it is because it's two separate populations.

Sex in humans is determined by a whole bunch of things that tend to correlate with each other (chromosomes, SRY gene, androgen levels, androgen sensitivity, estrogen levels, estrogen sensitivity, etc), so I can see the desire to illustrate that some things co-occur together more than others!

But I agree with @queercripintersex in the discussion of your previous ask that trying to project the multiple dimensions of sex into one dimension loses too much information, and is difficult to even do because so many factors are non-continuous (chromosomes, etc).

For the continuous variables, you can in theory try to find out if they have bimodal probability distributions. But quite rapidly run into issues of poor data. The data on testosterone levels in women is shockingly insufficient. Like I went looking for distributions of free testosterone levels and just look at how much noisier and sparse the data is for women (on the left) compared to men (on the right):

Source: Ooi et al, 1198

Even with all the noise in the data it's still unlikely that at any of the age categories, that the men's data and women's data added together would produce bimodal distributions. There's too much overlap.

As a general rule of thumb, any given physical difference (hormones, measurements, etc) has more variation within the sexes than between them.

Our culture has vastly overestimated the biological differences between the sexes. 😫 So I worry that adopting a sex-as-bimodal-distributions analogy will only feed this misconception. 🫤 I'm personally going to avoid using the analogy.

[ineffable-rohese]

Thinking a bit about how I gender Crowley and Aziraphale in my writing, and why. Now, what I write is rarely trying to be canon compliant, or trying to exactly replicate canon characterization. I'm also writing what I like (or at least what the brain weasels want me to write), and I am an Aziraphale at heart, so I write a lot through his POV. And because a lot of what I write is smutty, that involves some degree of objectification, especially of Crowley.

So, that said... I definitely see canon Aziraphale as technically agender but also gay in a very mlm way, and Crowley as gender fluid in a broadly queer way. I think these interpretations are backed up by canon evidence.

Aziraphale: Learned to gavotte at a discreet gentlemen's club (AKA, a private gay club). Dresses somewhat flamboyantly, but in roughly period appropriate men's wear. It's often somewhat to a lot outdated, but even that Bastille outfit with the lace was fashionable men's wear in the mid 1700s. He is somewhat effeminate, but in a male way. This angel is gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide and THE southern pansy.

Crowley: Has presented female at a couple points in history. Nanny Ashtoreth was definitely a Role for a Job, but there was no unease in it. There's possibly a job-related reason for him to be in women's attire at the crucifixion, but we're not given one in canon; the Flood look is the same minus a headscarf, but everyone is in robes so I think that one's open for interpretation. In modern eras, some to most of the actual clothing pieces he wears are marketed to women (especially pre-Armageddin't). The pants, the glasses, the scarf, the S1 vest... Honestly, the whole 2008 outfit is such a queer female look and it overlaps with the Nanny timeframe. The 1827 Edinbugh look, from what I can tell, is basically men's wear, but the cut of that overcoat is, if not a women's coat pattern, verging really, really close to one. 1862 and 1941 are definitely masculine looks, like so much so in 1941 that it feels like an I Am Masc Today statement. 2023 also feels more masc in overall cut of the clothing (though the glasses and scarf haven't changed). Not canon, but I resonate with someone's suggestion that Crowley presents more masculine when he wants to be connected with Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is so obviously gay. All that together says fluidity to me. So that's what I see in canon, and I tend to default to those when I'm writing. When I'm staying closer to canon, I'm more likely to write them both as he/him, because that's what we see. For Pretense, they also both have penises, under the assumption that societally they may need them to blend in (we're in Rome in a time where some form of public nudity would be more common). I have written Ineffable Wives - in fact, that was what got me writing, was wanting to write them as female - and they both had vulvas in that one. For my post-canon/non-canon AUs, Aziraphale has so far been male-presenting and he/him and Crowley is variously presenting with a variety of pronouns. Either of them can have any variety of body configurations, just depending on my mood and what feels like it will best serve the story. At least one of them often has a vulva just because I feel like there isn't enough cunt love out there and I think it's hot.

I've thought about doing more female-presenting Aziraphale. If I'm writing what I find hot, it would make sense for me to write her. I'm not normally attracted to men/masc people with Aziraphale's body type but I am very attracted to women/femme people with that body type. Why? Who knows, but it is what it is. But the Aziraphale that lives in my head seems to resist being feminine in a female way, so he gets to be feminine in a male way, and the Crowley that lives in my head helps me write him as hot, even if I wouldn't normally see it. Crowley, on the other hand, seems totally fine with whatever I want to do with him/her/them, up to and including Demon and Snake forms. I'd like to write more of Fem Aziraphale (again, because I write what I find hot, and she's so hot), but I think she'd be an entirely different character to Gay Aziraphale, and she hasn't been as loud about having her stories told. Perhaps I need to try writing Butch Aziraphale instead and see where that takes me...

So anyway, that's way too many words on something no one asked me to talk about, but what is the internet for than spouting your opinions to people who didn't want or need them?

[werothegreat]

Music lied to me

Growing up, and until very recently, this is how I assumed vocal ranges worked:

It makes it seem like there's a lot of space between male and female vocal registers.

At the same time, I was aware of different vocal ranges, which are usually presented like this:

See how the boys still live on the bass clef, and the girls still live on the treble clef. It becomes a bit less stark if we overlap them:

Now they definitely look closer together, but there still seems to be at least an octave difference between the highest and lowest notes of each corresponding range, and the highest bass note is only a third above the lowest soprano note, which still makes it seem like there is some stark biological difference between the genders in voices.

But one thing to remember is that S(M)AT(B)B is not a reflection of human vocal ability, divvied into 4 or 6 categories - it's a compositional division made to have 4 or 6 different parts in a piece of music. It's not that sopranos can only sing from C4 to C6, it's that those are the notes that composers write for them.

What started to throw me was listening to Idina Menzel belt.

I noticed that in the first half, there are parts where her vocal quality clearly changes to falsetto. She is reaching into a range where her chest voice is not comfortable. And in the second half, she hits those same notes with her belt.

Some terminology: chest voice is your "normal" or "speaking" voice - it's the register you're most comfortable in, and where you sound most natural. It's so called because most of your sound production is coming from resonating in your chest, in your lungs. Head voice or falsetto is a different method of sound production, where the main resonance is in your mouth and nasal cavity. It sounds "breathier" or "lighter", and can often have a very nasal quality (think Billy Joel in Uptown Girl). Belting is when you push your chest voice higher than is comfortable into the range you normally would switch to falsetto - it requires a lot of breath support, and you can only do it loud - you're basically screaming, with some vibrato. It's not the best for you vocal chords, but it can sound good. It's more common in pop music and musicals; opera singers instead use passaggio, which is a mix of chest and head voices, but is harder to do. People can pick up belting just by hearing someone else do it; passaggio can only really be sung by learning the technique first.

Anyway, I was curious what the actual notes were where Idina Menzel switched into falsetto or belting. And it was only an Eb5. Only here:

I've been working on my own voice, trying to practice passaggio, while working on my belt. My chest voice starts to give out at F4, and I've gotten to a point where I can consistently belt to Bb4. These:

In other words, Defying Gravity isn't sung an octave above my normal range as a baritone/tenor. It's only sung a fourth above. I, a cis boy pumped full of testosterone, am within spitting distance of singing a song written for a cis girl pumped full of estrogen at original pitch.

And I'm not the only one! This is Brendon Urie, a cis man, singing another Idina Menzel song, Into the Unknown, at its original pitch! With just his belt!

It sounds like he's mixing in some head voice at that highest note (again, Eb5!) but everything else is crystal clear belt, all chest voice, singing the exact same notes that Idina Menzel does. This cis man has the same vocal range as a cis woman. And he's not called a freak male soprano or anything, he's just a tenor.

And it goes both ways! Here is this lovely woman singing in a traditionally male range:

In that song, she gets as low as Bb2, here:

That's only a fourth above my own lowest comfortable note, F2. And a lot of basses can only go down as far as G2! This woman could have sung a lot of bass parts at pitch!

The point I'm trying to make is, the gender distinction in vocal ranges is largely imagined, and trans people please please stop worrying so much about your voices. I guarantee you there are cis people of your gender who have the same vocal range you got from (first) puberty. If you still want to vocal train, more power to you, may you receive every piece of gender euphoria you desire, but you don't need to worry about it as much.

[the-clumsywitch]

A Very Basic Affordable Witchy Christmas Gift Guide

So, you've got a witchy friend or significant other and your frazzled, what the hell do I get them? And you also don't want to spend an arm and a leg on that gift, look no further My Dear!

Affordable Crystals

Clear Quartz (Can serve in the place of all crystals, this may not resonate with everyone though), Rose Quartz (love), blue quartz (peace & calming) amethyst (psychic protection & intuition), black obsidian (protection & grounding)

Note: Each of these crystals have more than one purpose/correspondence, often overlapping another, these are just the most common correspondences.

Affordable Herbs

This category of gifts is incredibly simple, as most witches do not care if they're herbs come from a metaphysical store or a grocery store. However some do prefer organic, especially when burning them. For this type of gift you don't just have to focus solely on herbs found in a bottle, you can also purchase tea bags. Tea bags can come in handy when you are looking for an herb that you would otherwise have to visit a health food store for or order online. Just rip it open and use it in your spell. Below are some affordable tea brands 🫖.

Carrington Teas

Celestial Seasonings

Dollar Tree's brand (in my opinion the only ones that taste good are the black and green teas but all of them can be used in magick.)

Pretty much any store brand of tea.

Cauldrons

Everyone's needs for cauldrons are different, some people need itty bitty cauldrons, others need large ones, some want them only for burning and others want to cook in there's. Either way, these are the most affordable places I've come across to purchase both.

New age imports (For smaller cauldrons, typically no bigger than 5 inches)

Yogi depot on Etsy (Medium sized cauldrons up to 7 inches, which is actually much larger than you would think. I think they sell smaller ones too.)

CindysEyeofthemoon on Etsy (She sells small cauldrons and large ones, with feet and without them and if I'm not mistaken they're all food safe! Not to mention, her customer service is top notch!)

Magick.com

Incense & Candles

Would this even be a witchy Christmas list if I didn't add candles and incense?

Magick.com

Shopafrocosmetics on Etsy

Dollar Tree

Craft stores (See if your craft store has coupons or an app that has discount codes)

Books

Five Below (All of their books I've come across are excellent for all levels of magick. You won't find books about more advanced magick though.)

Barnes and Noble bargain section (which actually carries a lot of the same stuff as Five Below just in hardback.

Books-a-Million or BAM (Which also has an amazing bargain section!)

Magick.com

More Wonky Affordable Gifts

A jar or bag of pennies and other coins (I'm starting to think witches are just crows in disguise because we really like shiny things.)

Coloring books and crayons (Inner child healing anyone? Actually, probably only do this if they are doing inner child work.)

Salt and a jar to put it in (I know this might sound weird, but it's yet another thing no one ever brings up about witches, we freakin' love salt!)

Charcoal Tablets for burning loose incense

And don't forget...

One of the greatest places to look for witchy gifts can actually be at the thrift store or charity shops. My favorite shop has soooo many things that almost any witch would love to have, swing top bottles and jars, gorgeous crystal glasses, candle holders, candles (Did I mention how we really do love candles?). I've even purchased a cauldron there and the best part about thrift stores/charity shops is that you're helping the environment and you'll never know what you will find!

I hope this little list helped you! I come across witchy Christmas lists too often that only have pens and notebooks as affordable options (which I think any witch would agree are always welcomed). Or will tell you which gifts to buy but not where to find them. For this list I wanted to focus on where to find these witchy items affordably. If you have any other witchy Christmas gift ideas please feel free to comment on this post!

⛄Merry Christmas!🎄

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[whiskeyswifty]

I think what Taylor has is that she has the appeal of both a pop star and an indie artist

I’ve seen this notion make the rounds and I think I see the vision but I’m not sure I totally agree. Maybe I do agree but I just word it differently? idk if i'd call her indie, or the appeal being an "indie" appeal. indie is a combination of both the musical style that is provocative, messy, and challenging the structure of songwriting and sometimes even singing. and how the small scale operational side creates the musical style out of necessity, but that's just me being nitpicky i think. still, that feedback loop and ecosystem is kind of essential to something being indie or even indie-esque and the genre of music it produces. i think what she is instead is singer/songwriter, which a lot of people conflate with indie. sometimes they overlap, but most of the time they're just lumped together incorrectly, especially these days. the main difference is i think indie artists make music that is more experimental in sound and thereby prickly at times. they're not as concerned with resonance as they are with creating unique sounding music that challenges what sounds "nice" and "enjoyable", which sounds pretentious as fuck but it's true and also important to art in general imo. it tends to lean more towards the punk rock sensibility of an all encompassing sound that makes you feel instead of any particular lyrics, which are there to prop up the sound for the most part and can often be nonsensical or stream of consciousness. whereas a singer/songwriter leans more towards palatable, dare i say pretty music that draws you in because the main focus is their lyrics. they're telling you something. they seek emotional resonance with an audience as their main priority, leaning more towards a pop sensibility in that way. Taylor is definitely the latter in my eyes (and ears), and so indie feels like not a great fit for her ultimately.

but i do see what you mean so i'm more partial to saying she has a "small business" appeal. she's selling you pop that is pretty broad and familiar but you feel like because she offers you the illusion of having a direct line to a human person, taylor swift herself. that you're getting an intimate and specific brand of that broad and familiar thing in return. executed excellently of course, but still broad and vague. so that killer combo; she makes products that are broad enough that they appeal to everyone and draw large crowds, creating a line out the door, but also people are willing to wait for what is essentially a vague/broad thing because she makes you think that what she offers is hand crafted just for you and only she can give it to you. And i think her songs are yes about her life..... technically. but look at the lyrical content and you'll find they're very very vague for the most part (with a few exceptions). rarely does she name places, people, or even specific event details, and when she does they're very commonplace. wine, perfume, windows, movies, cars, bars, bedrooms, doorsteps, etc. but while the subjects and settings are vague, it's the emotions she is able to verbalize that are hyper-specific. how it feels to wants someone you shouldn't want, the guilt of feeling alone in a crowded room of people who love you, the self hatred of missing someone who betrayed you, the paranoia that leads to the longing to run away with someone where nobody can judge you, etc. because hyper specific details and situations are not relatable, but nearly all human emotions are. its a very masterful illusion of specificity where you line up a bunch of specific motifs or visuals to make the story feel small and intimate, but the things you choose are actually commonplace. and this is on purpose!! the emotions are pinpoint specific because that's what makes you feel seen and draws you in, as everyone feels the same things but we all think we're the only ones who feel them, and then the setting is ultimately vague enough so you can project yourself into and onto it. she could be talking about your street or your bedroom or your high school so you feel like you could be right there next to her. that's secret to the success of broad pop!

With how small her operation is, given that it's all in house and mainly her family and a few key players compared to the village it takes to manage other popstars, she technically and comparably is indie in that way! the thing is most of the time, a genuinely small/indie artist operates like this out of the inability to pay anyone to help, but she does it by choice. she has a MOUNTAIN of cash she sits on because she may operate with a small team but also outputs broad pop that, due to her small team, then has MASSIVE margins that go right into her pocket. thats the only real genuine indie thing about her, but either way, that's not what you're tapping into when you feel that small artist appeal. it feels like she's a small business because she makes it feel like she's on the other side of the counter, offering her songs to you out of the palm of her hand. that illusion of intimacy and human connection that she's able to facilitate despite being the most untouchable person in the world. indie music isn't about direct human connection like that, not on the whole. again, that's conflating indie with singer/songwriter which is about that human connection. and she is both yes! a pop star that injects singer/songwriter human outreach and connection into that pop. a gourmet creme patissiere whipped up by an extraordinarily deft and patient hand, piped into a simple and common glazed donut. and i'll take two dozen please. that's the unique magic of her.

in the end i think we agree conceptually, i'm just very prickly when it comes to the word indie because i don't feel like that's quite right.

[jeanmoreaux]

Hi, I love your taste in literature so I'm turning to you with a request (I hope I'm not bothering you, if so please ignore this). I've been trying to get more into poetry (quite successfully) because I see so many great poems here on tumblr but usually when I try to read more from the authors whose poems I liked, I am disappointed. Do you have any recommendations for poetry collections that are good all the way through? Where you don't feel like you were cheated into reading them by one beautiful quote?

you are absolutely not bothering me at all. it's cool that our taste in literature seems to overlap (feel free to share recs with me anytime!) i think with poetry collections of one individual you won’t find one that hits all the way through all the time with every line. there will be some poems that resonate more with you than others, even when all are great examples of the craft. here on tumblr, we're almost too used to consuming poems in small, juicy bites that highlight some of the punchier lines, not just in a collection but within a single poem. but the build up to these disembodied quotes can be so satisfying as well and often enhance the meaning and power behind them. and also, with poetry more so than prose, a lot of the enjoyment comes from sitting with a poem and thinking about what it means to you personally, what you see or hear in it. so i just want to have that out there before i talk about some collections i have enjoyed in the last couple of years. (here is my poetry shelf on goodreads if you want to see more.)

when it comes to collections by one poet, i found that i usually prefer the ones that have some narrative thread woven throughout to connect the separate parts. i think "war of the foxes" by richard siken does a great job of establishing themes, motifs, and symbols that tie the poems together and has them in dialogue with each other. the collection (to me) is all about the creative process, the (un)importance of art, the influence of art on the creator and the audience as well as the discussions that happen in between the space between them.

i also really enjoyed both of ocean vuong's most recent collections. the latest, "time is a mother", deals with the grief of losing his mother, while "night sky with exit wounds" is mostly about the immigrant experience, identity (particularly how 'otherness' in the form of ethnicity, race, and queerness play into it), familial relationships, coming of age, etc.

eye level by jenny xie and don't call us dead by danez smith are two other collections i really enjoyed. the first is a very observant look at the worlds without and within us (think of it as eye level but also capital i level, if you know what i mean). the latter deals with themes of blackness in america, race, queerness (including the author's aids diagnosis), etc.

if you're interested in reading novels that are written in verse, i can recommend the poet x by elizabeth acevedo (made me very emotional) and autobiography of red by anne carson (is super weird, but my brand of weird).

with none of these works—or poets for that matter—i ever felt like they delivered less than good writing.

another option could be to spring for a curated collection that includes selected poems from different collections (or even different poets). i don't have a lot of experience with either kind, but i recently bought mary oliver's devotions and penguin's poems for love, so we'll see how i'll like those. ((there is also some unread ada limon and wendy cope on my shelf that i want to get to this year!))

[sam-glade]

Happy STS! Does your reading taste match your writing taste? Tell me about both!

Hi Lynn, happy STS💜

I'd say there's a huge overlap. I almost exclusively read speculative fiction nowadays, and write only SFF.

I'm a very fussy reader though, especially when it comes to traditionally published books, and I'll often put a book down halfway through e.g. because it's over-explaining things or because something about a character dynamic rubs me the wrong way, and I'm not enjoying it. And conversely, I strive to write books I'd enjoy reading. And re-reading.

However, there are certainly things outside the overlap. Let's imagine it as a Venn diagram.

In the middle, there would be inspiring, earnest adventures about people pushing themselves and finding their inner strength, with characters who are overall nice people and aren't too hateful or selfish. Most importantly, they don't hurt others for fun - I dislike cruel POV characters. The stories I like will have some banter and lighter moments, but will be far from cute and fluffy. (I know I keep bringing it up, but Sanderson's The Stormlight Archive might be the best example of the tone I mean.) The plot itself doesn't have to be that memorable, as long as I enjoy tagging along with the characters.

Also very much in the 'I like to read it, but I'll never write it' category - tragedies. I like bawling my eyes out while I consume the story, but when it comes to writing it myself, it becomes too depressing and taxing, having to go over the harrowing scenes over and over to polish them.

When it comes to reading, I like a consistent but very distinct voice (looking at Tamsyn Muir's The Locked Tomb and Seth Dickinson's Masquerade series). However, when it comes to writing something like that, I get self-conscious about being pretentious - though The Fulcrum is an attempt to get over it.

I'd like to write a clever heist or detective story, but right now I'm not confident I can pull it off. Until that day comes, I'll enjoy reading them.

On the other side, I will occasionally write fluffy and cute scenes, especially to cheer myself up after getting past a bleaker section of a story. Even if they won't make it to any manuscript, it's a treat. At the same time, I don't read much fluff anymore. On too many occasions I've found it either too saccharine or like the author was trying too hard but the characters themselves didn't commit to it.

And finally things that I neither read nor write include grimdark - I don't like all of the characters being awful people; I want to root for someone, not wish that everyone will fail. And also a lot of romance, and especially heteronormative romance.

And I'd like to take this opportunity to vent about it just a little. Sorry, this will get lengthy and slightly off topic.

When I was in school, I tried to be just a normal girl (heh) and fit in. That was around the time when Twilight became a thing, and yes I've read it, since my friends insisted, and I couldn't understand what the fuss was about. I then tried various typical romances, and none of them resonated with me. I couldn't get through Pride and Prejudice even, despite the gorgeous setting and so much more to it than the romance.

What I think was going on was: in straight romance that I was exposed to there was this assumption 'there's a boy and a girl, of course they'll fall for each other'. Sometimes it was well-disguised, sometimes only thinly veiled, but once I noticed it, I couldn't unsee it. Even if the characters themselves were described as someone I might find attractive, I rarely got a good idea of why their love interest finds them attractive. So many times the answer seemed to be 'why wouldn't they'. And because I wasn't on board with the characters' feelings and didn't have the rose tinted glasses on, very often I'd go 'wait no I wouldn't want any partner to do this to me' about things they did to each other.

In comparison, in almost all of the queer romantic plots and subplots I've read (note: it's still not many, and even fewer of these books were first and foremost a romance), there's a lot more subtext and more nuance. I don't know if it's queer authors feeling (subconsciously?) the need to justify why these two people are together, or having more awareness of what's healthy in a relationship, or falling back to the subtlety we're used to seeing in media, from when queer representation was barely a thing, but that's what I enjoy a lot more. Also, in queer romances, I often find the characters having many more individual traits described in creative ways. Traits that aren't considered typically attractive. And my impression is that there's less pressure on characters to fall in love in queer books, but when they do, they're more active and decisive about it. Even when the decision and the action is to deny it.

And to bring it back to your question and the comparison to writing. I've attempted to write a straight couple twice, and in both cases I wasn't convinced there was any chemistry between the characters - at least not in both directions.

Obviously I haven't read that much straight-up romance overall, so this isn't based on a huge sample, but it's still enough for me to decide it's something I'll pass on. At this point, I'm quite happy saying: I don't have to write it if I'm not enjoying it.

[studentbyday]

valence bond (VB) theory

today is a lazy day but i really need to clean up these notes for future me...so here i am, pt. 1 🙃

So there's two different models that we use to describe bonding in molecules: VB theory (this one) and molecular orbital (MO) theory (which is actually more accurate). They are similar but NOT the same, don't mix them up. The model we choose to use depends on the purpose.

The reason we need these 2 theories is because while Lewis theory is easily applied, it doesn't explain odd-electron species (i.e. radicals) and resonance very well (no, the double/triple bond does NOT move around the molecule, and it doesn't exist for like, half the time and then not exist the other half) and while both Lewis and VSEPR theories tell us what molecular shapes are pretty accurately, neither tell us quantitatively what the bond energies or bond lengths are for molecules, i.e. covalent compounds, i.e. compounds whose atoms share electrons. (Bond energy and bond length are intrinsically related: the higher the bond energy, the more the bond pulls two atoms together, the shorter the bond length, i.e. internuclear distance.) And bond energies are the most important factor in many chemical reactions and chemical properties, so we need smth better to explain what actually happens during bonding. If we know what happens during bonding we can figure out how to quantify things to do with bonding. And we know that quantum mechanics explains what's actually happening with electrons in atoms, and since covalent bonds are made of electrons pairing up, we can use the notion of orbitals to explain covalent bonding. VB and MO theories both say that bonds are created by orbital overlap but the difference is in WHICH orbitals they use and HOW they use them.

VB theory is like the Lewis theory of bonding theories: it's pretty rigid. It says that a bond is made by overlapping only 2 atomic orbitals (orbitals associated with a single atom) and those orbitals are always going to be valence shell orbitals and those orbitals are always localized, i.e. it assumes that each orbital is fixed in position.

So there's 4 different kinds of basic atomic orbitals, right? s, p, d, and f. And remember that each of these have specific shapes and specific angles at which they exist?

If each of these are localized and these are the only orbitals we use, we won't always get the right bond angles for compounds. In these cases, we need to use hybridized orbitals - new atomic orbitals created by mixing certain basic atomic orbitals in the valence shell.

The square of the electron wave function is a probability distribution telling us where electrons are most likely to be. The shape of that wave function is a spherical harmonic, which is the shape of orbitals. So the orbitals are wave functions aka probability distributions. They aren't actually electrons. So when we hybridize orbitals, we're just changing where electrons are most likely to be.

Like, say we look at methane, which has a tetrahedral shape and therefore a bond angle of ~109.5 degrees:

We know that unpaired valence electrons are used in bonding, so let's look at the ground-state electron configurations for these elements: H's only electron is in the 1s orbital, so only its 1s orbital is involved in bonding. Meanwhile, C's ground-state electron configuration is:

So you'd think you need to promote 1 of the 2s electrons into the 2p orbital like this to create 4 unpaired electrons:

But that poses a problem when you do the bonding because when you overlap the H's 1s orbital with the C's 2s or 2p orbital, you don't get the correct bond angle of 109.5 degrees.

So C must not be using 2s and 2p orbitals to make bonds. It must be combining its 2s and 2p orbitals. Remember, orbitals are wave functions, mathematical functions with a spherical harmonic shape. So when you combine them, you get a new shape with a different point of destructive interference (node) and different areas of constructive interference (electrons are likely to be here where there's constructive interference). These new shapes could be sp, sp2, or sp3 hybridized orbitals. When you combine wave functions, the number of wave functions you combine = the number of different ways they can be combined, e.g. combining 4 orbitals - s and 3 p orbitals - creates 4 wave functions - 4 sp3 hybridized orbitals, subscript 3 b/c you used 3 p orbitals. And when C uses sp3 hybridized orbitals to bond with H's 1s orbitals, you get the correct bond angle of 109.5 degrees. So you have to promote a 2s electron but then hybridize the orbitals to get the right molecular geometry and shape.

Similarly, for trigonal bipyramidal molecules, a hybrid orbital made of and s orbital, 3 p orbitals, and 1 d orbital leads to the correct bond angles for that molecular shape. And for octahedral molecules, a hybrid orbital made of an s orbital, 3 p orbitals, and 2 d orbitals leads to the correct bond angles for that molecular shape. All these orbitals will be valence orbitals, btw.

Here's a cheatsheet so you don't have to think about how hybridization comes about in order to figure out what hybrid orbitals a particular molecule is going to use:

So when we hybridize orbitals, sometimes we're left with unhybridized p orbitals:

Those unhybridized p orbitals form pi bonds, which form the 2nd and 3rd bonds in double and triple bonds. There's 2 kinds of bonds. There's sigma bonds - sigma, which is the Greek letter 's', because sigma bonds are always single bonds. They result from orbitals that overlap along the internuclear axis:

Then there's pi bonds - pi, which is the Greek letter 'p', because they're always only made of unhybridized p orbitals overlapping above and below the internuclear axis:

So in summary, VB theory says that a bond is made by overlapping only 2 atomic orbitals - s, p, d, or f, OR hybridized orbitals. Those orbitals are always going to be valence shell orbitals and those orbitals are always localized, i.e. fixed in position. And the specific atomic orbitals used are whatever atomic orbitals would lead to the correct bond angles for that molecule as determined by VSEPR. These orbital overlaps can form sigma (single) bonds or pi bonds (double or triple bonds). But what about other molecules that can't be simply described by VB theory, like molecules that display resonance (fractional bond orders)? VB theory only explains single, double, and triple bonds... What about things in between? Enter MO theory...

Any annotated screenshots originally came from here.

[dualitysdownfall]

i do not know much about classpects (against my will. a lot of stuff class wise is very vague & so hard for me to wrap my head around) but i did some quizzes bc it's fun & got rogue of breath which sounds really neat but bc rufioh exists whenever i tell someone that they go "im so sorry" & it feels a bit bad 😔 tempted to take quizzes again to get another classpect bc of that so ... handshake on classpect tragedies

YEAH 🤝🤝 unfortunately class in particular (aspect to an extent, but less so) is SUPER up in the air bc so little is explicitly stated from a reliable source so most resources out there are just one person's interpretation so you can't take it as fact which is SO HARD FOR ME...

[inkskinned]

i both firmly believe that self-diagnosing saved my life and i think that the way tiktok and instagram have recently been spreading misinformation about mental illness/neurodivergence is incredibly harmful.

people who are looking for answers are already people who are in a vulnerable situation.

much of the misinformation appears logically sound; and is presented as definitive fact (prefaced with claims such as "research shows"). it's imperative we remember correlation does not prove causation. it is incredibly dangerous to make definitive statements like "if X happened in your childhood, you now Z as an adult." real scientists will almost always use may or other less-definitive terms. similarly, equating one behavior/experience with any single condition is also unsafe. many conditions have overlapping symptoms; and many people "mask" their key symptoms, even to themselves.

we cannot discern from a singular data point any conclusion. in official diagnosis, for a behavior/experience to be considered a symptom, it must significantly influence your life. many people enjoy an organized space. that is a preference. disrupting your daily life even at personal cost in order to prioritize organization is more likely a symptom.

again, a single data point is not an effective diagnostic tool. it is necessary and important work to catalogue and consider all unwanted/distressing behaviors in order to understand a complete picture of the person.

i will see creators in paid partnerships make generalized behavioral/emotional claims that apply to a large portion of a community, and then they will suggest that the "solution" to that behavior is through their paid partner/through their personal support. "follow for more psych tips/facts" is an incredibly evil marketing tactic. i very rarely see unpartnered/unbranded content on how to aid/comfort those behaviors and feelings.

much of the misinformation employs a subtle technique (called confirmation bias) of setting up a conclusion before "proving" the conclusion. "you know you have X when you experience A,B, and C." no person's experience of their conditions/behaviors will look exactly the same as another's. while knowing certain things might be a sign/symptom of a condition, it is irresponsible to consider it definitive.

confirmation bias is unfortunately extremely effective on tiktok specifically. the algorithm will notice that you interacted longer with the video that "proves" (through a singular video) that you "have" a condition. it will continue to feed you related videos that further confirm what you believe.

this is dangerous because we are, unfortunately, not good at knowing ourselves. i did not know it was unusual to vividly nightmare every night; i didn't consider it a symptom. i was similarly dismissive also of any other signs of my PTSD - i incorrectly assigned them to anxiety/adhd. on the small scale, this can mean a longer journey to healing. on the larger scale, it can mean people with extremely difficult situations are unable to get the help they need.

please, if you can, and you're looking to self-diagnose: be careful about what you assume about yourself. try to keep an honest journal of what you're thinking/feeling/doing for a few days.

do not go in with an assumption. try to keep an open mind. i think we all "suspect" we have something - but like i said, i completely missed my own PTSD symptoms, because i suspected the ADHD the most, and only "saw" those symptoms.

do your own research. if the tiktok says "research shows", google that research. figure out who paid for that research. do further research related to that study - has it ever been repeated? is it peer reviewed? do other researchers seem to accept it as conclusive?

if you feel you really resonate with the materials of one person's experience with a condition, find other examples. see if you relate to other creators who identify similarly.

and please - please do not stop once you come to a conclusion. i fully believe that the diagnostic process should be seen as a first step, not a destination. by knowing what you might be struggling with, you gain an incredibly powerful tool on how to gain peace with that condition.

if you feel yourself emotionally respond to a tiktok/etc that suggests something that might be true about yourself, i'm glad you had that experience. but it's also important to not relax into the "easy" answer. interrogate it. start googling what else that could mean; what ways you could work on healing that wound.

healing does not "belong" to any one condition. i want you to begin to look into healing no matter if you have "proven" you have a condition or not. it is never selfish to practice responsible self-care. even if you don't relate to having adhd, you are not harming me by using adhd-inspired study tips. it is not making my condition worse for you to seek peace by asking for more time on tests. even if it was - the fault would be with the system, not in your need of something the system makes inaccessible.

remind yourself that everything you experience is real. and because it is real, it is complicated. while things might be related - even sometimes clearly related - a stranger on the internet cannot make that discernment for you. you as a person deserve the work, attention, and care that goes into the process of unravelling the harm that has been done to you.

it makes me very, very upset to see how popular these videos have become, because they're so irresponsible. and they clearly are targeting a vulnerable group. for example, making generalized claims about children of unloving caretakers is targeting those who have experienced neglect. there is no way to use 30 second videos to correctly analyze what that neglect might have caused in your adult life. i'm sorry, but it's snake oil.

i know it is so powerful soothing to recognize that you aren't broken. that others exist like you out there. i want every person looking for answers to find their answer. i want you to feel seen and heard and understood. i want you to find your community.

i just want it to happen safely.

[moonctzeny]

love to hate me

request:  celebrity! jaehyun + enemies to lovers + “don’t you want to know how i feel?”

pairing: friends to enemies to lovers! jaehyun x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff... this fic has it all folks

word count:  7.514k

warnings: toxic behaviour, public sex, light restraining, jaehyun pulls a ‘white boy punching the wall’ at some point 

summary: “You and Jaehyun meet as SM trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you deicde to leave the company and pursue a solo career. When you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. Your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other”

a/n: this is the longest it has ever taken me to finish a fic.. I have a love-hate relationship with this (no pun intended XD). I hope whoever requested this likes it!

------------------------------------------------

Of-fucking-course you had to bump into him out of all people at the vending machine. All you wanted was a drink to refresh you before you got up on stage, and now you have to deal with Mr. Too Good For This World and his relentless teasing. His eyes, lit up by an amusement that was also evident in his smirk, stayed glued on your body, raking up and down at it for a second too long. Not that you didn’t like it.

“Stare much?”, you bark at him in hopes of snapping him out of his trance, and push through him to punch in the code of your favorite drink. But alas, he always had a comeback ready on the edge of his lips.

“You look ridiculous”, he states and you have to admit that your outfit, though fitting for the Halloween special of today’s music show, was way different than anything else he had ever seen you in. Reincarnated as Dorothy Gale for the night, your stylists had chosen a short, light blue checkered dress, with red stilettos that gave a sexy twist to the character’s ruby slippers. Hair neatly braided in two pigtails, decorated by ribbons and topped off by glittery pink makeup. The image of innocence. Jaehyun had to laugh.

“Says the man dressed up as Woody”

It was unfair, you admitted, how good he looked in that stupid outfit. His hair was gelled back, a few strands framing his handsome face strategically. The yellow shirt fitted him like a glove, its bright colour lighting him up as well. And those jeans, tight in all the right places, just melted over the muscles of his thighs. The ones that you’ve come undone on one too many times.

“So”, he lilts, giving you a once over before lowering both the volume and pitch of his voice, “want a ride?”

You scoff, sparing him an incredulous look, “on what horse, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply, only points with his eyes to his crotch that is undeniably sporting a visible tent, and you gasp when you see the outline of his dick twitching under your stare.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun”, you mutter with a disgusted look on your face before picking up the almost forgotten beverage that the vending machine had barfed out for you. The boy mentioned, however, was unfazed.

“They don’t call me Woody for nothing”

Almost choking at the drink that was supposed to calm you down, you catch his eyes rolling at you through your third cough. Well, that ruins one of your favourite childhood movies. “Don’t pretend to be a prude. Now are we going to fuck before you get on stage of not?”

You can clearly remember the first time you met Jung Jaehyun alone. You always spotted him somewhere in the SM buildings, joking around with his future bandmates, barely ever without company. As a fellow vocal trainee, he introduced himself to you as Yoonoh, filling up the awkward silence while your vocal teacher prepared the music sheets for the both of you to rehearse.

You were thankful the two of you always got paired up together. Jaehyun was charming, easy to be around, funny. He was a model SM trainee with the otherworldly looks he possessed, almost impossible for anyone’s eyes not to follow him when he entered a room. Radiant porcelain skin, soft brown locks, and a dimpled smile that made your heart melt in seconds.

You can also clearly remember the first time you had the privilege of hearing him sing. Jaehyun had a beautiful baritone voice, one that contradicted his flower boy image but matched his manly personality perfectly. The four walls of the small practice room resonated with his sound, that was stable and smooth like honey. The lessons were challenging but Jaehyun made them bearable through spending time with him. Maybe it was your shared struggles, or how you were always tired and vulnerable when you saw him. Maybe it was those damned dimples, but your heart always beat faster when you were around him.

“Sometimes I get discouraged”, he confides in you in that same room, hours later, early into the morning now. The vocal lesson stretched on longer than expected, leaving you two sitting on the floor, sharing a cup of lemon-honey tea to soothe your vocal chords. You let your head rest to the leather couch behind you as you stare into his handsome features one by one. What time was it? Shouldn’t you be back at your dorms by now? It didn’t matter, this was one of those moments when time seems to stop and life seems unreal. When the only thing that you care about is the person standing next to you, and whatever it is they have to tell you.

 “I fear that I will never get to debut. There’s handsome guys all over the company. I just don’t know if my skills are enough.”  

You thought he was crazy for thinking that way, wanted to scream at him that he’s just perfect and more than enough for the company, or for anything in this world for that matter. But Jaehyun was reserved, the type to always mask his true feelings behind a smile and you were more than glad that he finally opened up to you, that he saw you as someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to dismiss his feelings, so you just pet his hair while you listened to his concerns.

 As you mindlessly gaze at the rainy weather outside, a couple of droplets following their own path down the froggy window remind you that time does run by. Even if every day seemed the same, following the same routine, going to the same classes over and over again.

Jaehyun had this sad look that contorted his pretty face and you hated it, reaching up to massage away the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You don’t know which godly creature made the hourglass of time freeze this moment, nor did you know why Jaehyun leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you for keeping your ears and heart open for him, for listening to him when he needed it most.

It felt so lovely while it lasted, two young people leaning on each other during an uncertainty that anchored them far away from their emotional shoreline. But life as a trainee isn’t a fairytale and falling in love can have serious ramifications. So you promise to each other that this will be a one time thing, and then you never speak of this night ever again.

Unsurprisingly enough, Jaehyun got to successfully debut, yet you didn’t have the same luck. The company had plans of focusing on their new boy group, thus postponing your debut for an uncertain amount of time. It was hard for you to decide to switch labels, to throw away the years of hope and dedication you had pinned on this company but the faith you placed on yourself was stronger.

It’s years later when you finally get to promote as a solo artist in a different company, and you are happy to say that the decision you made all those years ago was the right one. The exposure you got wasn’t the same as being in a Big 3 company, however leaving SM entertainment has its pros. Flexible schedule, less scrutiny, great creative freedom over your work. 

This wasn’t the first time you have come across your old trainee buddy. Jaehyun had multiple comebacks in a year, so it was only natural that his group’s and your promotions would sometimes overlap. You were only a rookie, and NCT turned out to become pretty popular, so of course the wins were always tied to their names.

The first time you walked past him in the hallways, dark makeup and professional styling making you both almost unrecognizable, you expected a wave, small talk, maybe some reminiscing of the old times. Instead, you got a cold stare or at best, an arrogant smirk coupled with a “Do better next time”. It was shocking to you how much Yoonoh, the boy with the shy smile and awkward social skills, would turn into such a stranger.

How you always ended up sneaking out with him to have a quickie in one of the ready rooms, was beyond you. He rushed you inside before checking both sides of the hallway, cautious to hide from any curious eyes. The coast was clear and Jaehyun doesn’t like to waste time, so he pins you against the door he just closed behind him, face dipped in your neck. You can feel his fingers dancing on the skin of your thighs, eager to explore what is hidden under your frilly skirt, and their delicacy in contrast to his feverish kisses sends a shiver down your spine.

One pretty whine from your lips, then two, three and you can feel Jaehyun smile deviously against your neck. The softness is too enticing for him to resist, so he nips at it skillfully, trying to get a reaction out of you. He recognizes that you have plenty of talent as a singer, yet the symphonies you sing out for him in those little sessions seem to be his favorite.

“Jaehyun, cut it out. I’m going on stage in like, 20 minutes”

“Turn me on then”

Wasn’t he the one that basically flashed you in the middle of the cafeteria for just existing? Isn’t it his hard on that digs against your lower stomach? The demand made you mad, and you wanted nothing more than to entice him with a nice blowjob, only to take a big, strong bite off that cock of his. But see, you had a full face of makeup on and your career is way more important than a fuckboy, so you’ll have to get creative.

Flipping him around so that he’s the one trapped between you and the door, you start to suck on his collarbones , then nibble at the tender flesh. He seems distracted enough by it so that you open the button of his jeans and fully remove his belt from their loops with no objections. Palming him over his boxers to keep him entranced, you manage to bring his wrists together, wrapping the leather around them, then lastly fastening them in place.

His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that he’s too late, wiggling his hands in a futile attempt to free himself. Your laugh is sadistic, making the hairs on his arms stand on edge and you gloat in the effect you have on him. 

Giving your palm a good lick, you form a ring with your fingers, wrapping them around the base of his member. He hisses and drops his head back, thudding loudly against the wall. His cock enlarges and reddens as you move your hand up and down, changing the pressure according to his reactions. Jaehyun isn’t one to express himself freely but there is not much he can do to stop the low moans leaving his lips. Not when you rub circles over his tip with the soft skin of your palm.

He looks so fucking good, all squirmy and desperate and trying to hold himself from saying ‘please’. You almost want to keep going, squeeze him more until he whines and begs to cum, and admire the white beads dripping from his slit and covering your hand. Almost.

You halt your movements with a last strong stroke, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him. Jaehyun tentatively opens one eye to see why you have stopped, only to come across that bratty smile that he loves as much as he hates.

“You should have dressed up as a siren. Seducing people before they realize you are a man eating bitch”

“If you want someone to jerk you off you can go ask one of your little fangirls. I want to get fucked.”

“Let me go then. And you’ll wish you never did”

You scoff at his cockiness, nonchalantly freeing him from his constraints, and the way he immediately has a hold of your jaw reminds you of a predator eyeing its prey. His eyes have a crazy look in them, moving frantically over every part of your body like he can’t decide what to grab onto first. He decides on your hips, bending you over a table full of snacks and makeup tools and flyers of today’s schedule.

“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”, he asks you with a peremptory voice that signifies you’d better shut up.

You hear shuffling behind you and assume it’s him slipping on a condom, so you make yourself more comfortable on the wooden surface. A hard slap on your ass jolts you alert.

“I asked you a fucking question”, Jaehyun presses brusquely and flips your skirt fully over your ass, pulling your panties down until they’re bunched up right over your knees.

“It’s fun”, you moan out, breathless both from the pleasure and the stinging feeling on your right cheek, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Was the room occupied by one of the artists that have already been on stage? Or will they barge in at any moment to find you bent over and pussy dripping for Jaehyun to finally dive inside you? He chuckled at the sight of you, eyes feasting off your naked body, your ass up just the way he likes it. Not so innocent anymore, huh?

He doesn’t reply to you, aligning himself against your slit and bottoming out in one go instead. Involuntarily, you let out a small screech, the sudden stretch catching you off guard.

“You better stay quiet, siren. Or maybe you would like it if people found us like this? Saw how good you take my cock whenever I ask”

You wanted to bite back at him, but the only sound you could make was a guttural moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and you fall forward to bite your fist and force yourself to shut up. It was effective, yet Jaehyun had other plans for you, pulling your pigtails towards him in a strong grip that has you against his chest in seconds.

“Nuh, uh, uh, siren”, he hums in your ear, his panting making his voice sound huskier and smokier than ever, “How about trying to stay quiet by using your willpower alone? That way it’s more- how did you call it? Fun.” 

He slows down his pace momentarily, as if he’s giving you time to answer him. But the moment you open your mouth to talk back at him, he thrusts particularly hard inside you, forcing a whimper out of your lips.

“Fuck you, Jaehyun”

“As you wish”

Jaehyun was conceited and cocky and a dick, but he was also a good fuck. He kept at it with what seemed like all the energy in the world, fucking you against that table until you came all over him, and your legs gave out. It ended how it always did, with him moaning how fucking sexy you look and how much he hates you, and you swallowing your pride as you swallow his cum. You’d tell each other to fuck off and never bother the other again, until you meet up at the next comeback, to do this shit all over again.

And that’s how things would stay if it wasn’t for that goddamn phone call from your manager.

“...so we thought what better way to promote your new song by recording a duet with NCT’s Jaehyun?”

No, no, no this can’t be happening. No way. Anyone but him.

“Are you sure this is the only way we can promote me? Can’t I just go to variety programs like every other idol out there?”

“y/n, duets by different group members are one of the most efficient methods of promoting there is! And with NCT’s latest song topping the charts this will be a great opportunity for you. Taemin and Sunmi did it. Suzy and Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Punch-“

“Alright, okay, I get it”

“Besides, since you used to be an SM trainee they specifically asked for you. The directors made some pretty big compliments on your work”

Isn’t it a little too late now? Not like they didn’t have the chance to debut you, right? That being said, there isn’t much to oppose to decline SM’s offer; your manager is right and you know it. Saying no to Lee Sooman and giving up a popularity push like that is basically career suicide. Nor could you let your manager know about your and Jaehyun’s little adventures, minutes before you have to go on stage.

“Just send me the schedule. I don’t have to record with him, right?”

“Oh no, they’ll record his part first and then they’ll send it to us. But there will be a music video of course”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

There was this little monster of worriedness that was screaming inside your head, refusing to shut up. This collaboration isn’t going to be easy, but you didn’t want to let Jaehyun’s pettiness get in the way of your career. Fumbling with your phone in your hands, you kept removing and reinserting its case compulsively, over and over again, until you mustered the courage to take matters into your own hands.You knew his number was buried somewhere in your contacts.

you [16:35]: hey it’s me, y/n

Jung Yoonoh [16:50]: y/n who??

you [16:55]: y/n y/l/n? the girl whose guts you were inside in last week? we have a song coming up 😒

Jung Yoonoh [16:57]: oh y/n right

Jung Yoonoh [16:58]: thought you’d have deleted my number

Well you sure have deleted mine, you murmur with your blood boiling, regretting reaching out to him in the first place. 

you [16:59]: i always hoard peoples contacts

you [17:00]: old habits die hard i guess

Jung Yoonoh [17:00]: like the habit of me being inside your guts?

You gasp out after reading his last message, hands awkwardly juggling your phone until you’ve forced yourself to calm down. After waiting for a while, until your face has reached its previous temperature, you feel focused again, and type out your original intentions for this conversation.

you [17:05]: this isn’t what i texted you about.

you [17:07]: we have this project coming up and while I know we aren’t exactly on the best terms, this comeback is very important for me

you [17:08]: and i don’t want to fuck it up

Jung Yoonoh [17:10]: kitty cat, relax. maybe this is a brand new word for you but i know what professionalism is

you [17:10]: don’t you ever and i mean ever call me that again

you [17:11]: glad to see we are on the same page

You didn’t expect a message back, nor did you get one. All you could do from now on, was pray that the promotions would go smoothly and Jaehyun wouldn’t do anything stupid that would jeopardize your collaboration.

------------------------------------------------------

And the day you dreaded finally came. The first day of filming for the music video. 

You had already finished recording the song, a bittersweet balad about two lovers who lost their way, only for their paths to cross again. When you listened to the demo for the first time, it only took three notes from Jaehyun’s pre-recorded verse to spread goosebumps on your skin. His voice was deeper and even more developed than you remember. Long forgotten memories, shoved deep inside your brain so as not to leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, came flooding up again. But things have changed since then.

The sky was crying rain and lightning, fitting to the storm inside your head. Normally you'd be excited to film a music video, bubbling with energy and unable to contain a smile. Today, all you could do was let your teeth abuse the cuticles of your left thumb, until little drops of blood ruined the fresh manicure you got for the shoot. 

Following your manager inside the studio, you take a quick glance at all the props the creative directors have prepared. They were very intricate, filled with all different types of flowers everywhere. Some of the fake rooms looked like classrooms, two others were decorated like teenage bedrooms. It was a lot more than you have anticipated.

“The song will be part of a drama OST, that’s why the budget is higher than usual”, your manager tells you as if he was reading your mind. 

He leads you to the changing room, where you try on different outfits your stylist has chosen for you, while simultaneously being briefed on the concept of the music video. It’s kinda cheesy and cute, with you and Jaehyun posing as high-school students falling in love. Certain scenes of the drama, whose plot matches the music video’s, will intercept in between.

You’re seated on the makeup chair, sunk in the uneasiness caused by your co-star. Jaehyun had arrived a few minutes after you, his bare face more handsome than you’ve ever looked in your most glamorous state and you can’t help but stare at him. He is all polite smiles and bows to the staff, and even gives you a formal greeting. 

You’re not sure why you just can’t bring yourself to stop your legs from shaking as the makeup artist patiently tries to apply a rosy blush on your cheekbones. It’s like you’re scared that everyone will see right through the both of you, somehow enter your brain and find out that you’re replaying your last encounter with Jaehyun in the music show’s waiting room in your head. As you try to read through his expression, to see if he’s nearly as nervous as you are, you defeatedly can’t decode what’s going on inside his head. Not like you ever could.

You glance at both you and Jaehyun through the mirror, admiring the youthful makeup. Blushy cheeks and innocent eyes of two teenagers in love, masking the raw lust between two nemesi. It couldn’t stray any further from the truth.

A staff member leads both you and Jaehyun (who is refusing to spare even one look your way) back to the main set. The director is passionately explaining what he wants to see from you in your first scene, but you can barely focus with Jaehyun’s eyes burning holes through your school girl outfit. You block him out and walk inside the ‘classroom’, spotting the cameras and sitting on your designated seat, while you wait for your signal to start.

Of course, you had acted before. Yes, you had expected for the director to ask you for some more intimate moments with your co-star. But when Jaehyun passed you a “love note” from the desk in front of you, looking all blushy and shy and with his dimples showing, you felt that the role of crushing schoolgirl became a little too easy for you to act out. 

And maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too. He looked pretty flustered when he saw you dancing across class, shifting restlessly in his seat when you bent forward to tie your shoelaces. Whether you did it on purpose or not, was a question your ego didn’t allow you to answer truthfully.

Most of the individual shots would be handled at a different shoot, so all you had to do was get over this one day with him. That’s what you repeated yourself over and over again. And you did pretty well, smiling charmingly at the camera, with the director praising you for your “innocent look”. You didn’t miss the scoff slipping from Jaehyun’s lips but you were good at ignoring it, focusing on getting through the different scenes in one-shot. 

You were currently leaning your body against the wall, playing with your hair while Jaehyun glances down at you, like a boy that is ready to confess to his first love. 

“y/n, I need you to give me something more shy, more bashful”, the director yells eagerly, but you can barely hear him, too focused on regulating your breathing. The look your co-star is giving you right now might seem loving and pure to the staff, but you know all too well the motives hidden behind his facade. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence he purposefully keeps to make you squirm, right before he whispers the most sinful propositions in your ears. 

Reading him like an open book, you stand still as he leans closer, just enough so that no one besides you get to hear his words.

“Come on y/n, can’t you act bashful? Or is it impossible for you to get embarrassed after getting fucked against the window of a TV station’s building?”

Clearing your throat, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every single sound and movement in the room. Suffocating, even in the light clothes you were wearing, and desperately trying to mute out his words that bring you back to the day he was repenting.

“When you were pressed up against that glass, moaning my name, all exposed for anyone that simply looked up to see, you weren’t too shy, were you?”

You raise your palm to wipe a bead of sweat that has collected on your temple, and breathe deeply through your nose, as if a good pump of oxygen would cool off the sudden heat between your legs. 

“Shut up Jaehyun”, you simply hiss through your front teeth, but he isn’t done yet.

“You know I can’t hold myself when I see you in skirts. So pretty. And you love to tease me in them too, I’ve noticed. Flashing me again and again until you get to suckle on my dick”

You were sure his voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the thought of anyone accidentally prying into your conversation had your whole body raising in temperature. The heat didn’t take long to reach your cheeks and you couldn’t remember the last time your legs felt like jelly, as they do now.

“Perfect y/n, that’s exactly what I’m looking for!”

You blinked back at Jaehyun a couple times, your mind trying to process that the director is cheering you on instead of scolding you to focus. The trembling hands, the fast-paced heartbeat, your big doe eyes. Though involuntarily, you had nailed the scene.

“You’re welcome”, Jaehyun mouths at you just as the staff announces a break. He scurries off to his dressing room without a word, as if he hadn’t just spewed his dirtiest of thoughts on set. It was almost as if he was daring you to follow him, but it’s not like he had left you a choice. You were fuming.

“Jaehyun”, you called out to him strictly but he didn’t acknowledge you, only walked further inside the small room with his name written neatly on the door. He was removing some of the heavier jewellery, rubbing the red lines they had left on his neck and wrist, momentarily catching your eyes on the mirror's reflection. They were misty, unreadable, and with how unpredictable you knew he could be, you decided to close the door behind you.

“Closing the door?”, he muses and in just a few long strides he has managed to trap you between his body and the wooden surface. It is reminiscent of your last meeting at the music show, and the memory of you tying him up doesn’t help with the organizing of your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing to me in here?”

You point one finger against his chest, not enough to create any real distance between you, but it comforts you nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that out there? What happened to professionalism?”

“Relax, kitty cat. I was just helping you act better”. His eyes stayed glued on your hips, once again making you all wound up and jumpy under his stare, “And it worked. You should be thanking me”

“I. Told. You.”, you started, tapping your finger on his sternum to emphasize each word, “Never call me that again. Today’s already hard as it is, why do you have to make it harder?”

He takes one more step towards you, his chest now touching yours and your hand that separated you lands involuntarily on his right peck. As if his presence wasn’t overwhelming enough, you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh, and for a moment you worry he can feel how wet you really are under your skirt. His voice is a low, a deep rumble.

“I don’t know. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

“You are unbelievable”, you scowl at him and free yourself from his trap. You turn to the big mirror to avoid looking at him anymore, and you come to the embarrassing realization of how fucked out you look right now. You had to get out of there as soon as possible, before you do anything stupid and lose any trace of self control left in you. But not before you gave Jaehyun an earful.

“What I meant was that I am out there, being paid to be all lovey-dovey with you. This is not something easy for me you know. It’s basically prostitution.”

You catch Jaehyun’s eyes in his reflection, and for a fleeting moment they turn a colour that you hadn’t seen them in for a long time. Hurt? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by that smile that made him both irresistibly smackable and fuckable at the same time.

“Did it cross your tiny brain that maybe someone could hear you? Staff leaks information all the time! If they found out we were fucking…”

“Were? Past tense?”

“Are. Will be. Whatever.” You sigh, defeated, hiding your eyes with your palms as you face him once again. “Like I said, this is important to me. So no more dirty talk on set. Okay?”

Jaehyun avoided your glance, from embarrassment or uninterest maybe. “Okay”

You continue to sit there silently, but your head is so occupied with a million thoughts that you don’t notice. How you will get through the rest of the shooting, whether your manager is looking for you or not, the coldness of the glass Jaehyun had pressed you against that day. The only thing that snapped you out of it, was him suddenly taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”, you ask panicking, but you can’t dismiss the pool of excitement in your belly.

“We have a wardrobe change after the break, remember? And since you refuse to leave my changing room..”

You clear your throat, trying your hardest to rip your eyes away from his abdomen, that you’ve so keenly marked with love bites before. His naked skin must have monopolized your attention way more than you realized, as you can’t remember when he slithered his way closer to you, towering over your height.

“Stare much?”, he almost growls, arousal dripping from his voice.

Every fiber of your being wanted to lurch forward, glide your fingers through his hair and start nibbling at those pretty lips of his. The sexual tension, amplified by the argument you just had, was filling the room like a thick liquid would fill a cup. One more drop, one more second of his staring and it would overflow. It felt so real, that you could feel that drop landing on your forehead. Then another one on your cheek, and that’s when you realized that what you felt was real.

“What the-?”, Jaehyun mumbles as he stares up at the ceiling, a big wet spot staining it and allowing the water drops to slowly wet his styled locks. As you start to put two and two together, someone knocks loudly on the door, making you both jump one feet away from the other.

“Get undressed”, a high-pitched male voice that you recognize as Jaehyun’s manager calls through the door, “the rain is ruining the set. It’s a wrap for today”

———————————————————————

A soft touch on your lower back, an even softer breath making your ears tingle. A tentative kiss on your neck that’s full of purpose and makes you shiver.

And then another touch, this time more south on your body. Fingertips grazing over your sensitive clit. Easily moving through your wetness and finally dipping inside of you. That baritone voice.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it, kitty cat?”

You look up to meet the face of the familiar voice, only to meet Jaehyun’s baby brown eyes. The pleasure was enough to make you ignore the despised nickname, flowing intensely through your body. You let out a desperate moan, gripping his arms to keep your balance. His fingers are now dragging through your walls and you clench around them instinctively, confused but enamored by his touch. You are falling apart.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you”

“Love? But you hate me”

He plants another kiss on the slope of your neck, his hands picking up in pace and making you feel like you’re floating on air.

“Love. Hate. Is there really any difference when I’m here, ready to please you? Willing to make you feel things you have never felt before?”

“You already do”, you admit, only seconds away from your orgasm. The bliss is so close you can almost taste it, but for now you choose to taste his lips. They are so soft and warm that you realize you haven’t kissed Jaehyun since that night at the practice room. How you miss him. Not the group visual, not the idol, not even Jaehyun. Yoonoh.

“Yoonoh”, you moan out against his lips as the pleasure overtakes you, a low buzz humming in your ears, “mmm yes, Yoonoh”

“Who the fuck is Yoonoh?”

You finally wake up, your manager shaking you awake being the first thing you see. The sun’s morning rays are peeking through your blinds, warming your skin in lines. Your phone’s ignored alarm clock is still buzzing on top of your nightstand.

“No one. I’m awake, thanks”

Fuck. That makes it what? The fourth night in a row you dreamt about him?

“Get, up. Quickly. We’re late”

You groaned at the banging of your head that was caused by you getting up so fast. It was early into the morning, as you had to get ready for the mv’s second shooting day. The heavy rainfall wouldn’t allow for the filming to continue for another week, yet aided your growing anxiety of having to encounter Yoon- Jaehyun again. 

You felt a little stupid, like a kid that goes to middle school for the first time, anxious but full of butterflies in your stomach in the thought of seeing him again. You weren’t sure who the anger, that came with the inability to control the fresh feelings bubbling from your dream, should be directed at. Your manager for booking you this job? Jaehyun for making it his goal to have you dripping wet on set? You, for letting it all affect you so much?

You decide on the former, giving your poor manager the cold shower for forcing you to deal with the problems you’ve caused yourself. Checking your phone, you realise that you are, indeed, late, and wonder how quick you’re going to have to make your morning shower.

“Is Jaehyun and his team there already?”, you ask your manager as nonchalantly as you could, feigning mildly interested in his answer.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? The other team asked for the shootings to continue separately”. You felt your stomach drop all the way down to your condo’s basement. And the icing on the cake: “Jung Jaehyun’s request”

Maybe your manager wasn’t as clueless to your electricity, or maybe it was your sudden impulse to pluck every loose thread of the pyjama top you were wearing that made him sense the discomfort following what he’d just said. He plops next to you on your bed, boards creaking in the silent room and you feel his rough hands patting you on the back.

“I’m sure he had an overlap in schedules and needed a break, nothing to do with you”

But you knew better, and you knew your palms wouldn’t stop itching unless you picked up your fucking phone and sent him a message. 

you [06:30]: i heard you can’t make it to set today. everything ok?

You wish you never did. The radio silence from his number was way worse than any insult, any form of teasing he could give you on set. You even tried calling him, desperate for an answer, a closure even. Maybe he was busy. Maybe the shooting took longer than expected. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding you; one of his managers uploaded his latest story on his instagram, not him. Maybe at the end of the week he would get back to you.

------------------------------------------------------

Going to his dorm unannounced was not a good idea. Waiting for someone to open the door for you, you hope his members will recognise you from your trainee days, or those rare nights Jaehyun sneaked you in when you were both lonely and in need of a… well, whatever you two were.

You’re starting to worry that whoever saw you from the peephole thought you were a sasaeng and called security, when Mark opens the door. His eyes are wide open behind his glasses, clearly not expecting you and immediately yelling for his ‘Jaehyun hyung’.

Soon, the called male arrives at the apartment’s entrance, annoyed for being interrupted from whatever it was he was doing. “What is it, me and Jungwoo are watching the season fina-“

As if Mark suddenly turned invisible, Jaehyun walks right past him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to his room without another word.

Jungwoo, engrossed with the aforementioned show’s season finale on his computer screen, tries to cover up his naked torso in panic when he notices you. 

“Get out.”, Jaehyun orders him, and the younger man knows that his tone is not one to be argued with. It triggers the cold sweat that makes your clothes stick closer to your skin and forces your heartbeat to quicken, pumping blood all over your body. The door closes, leaving you both alone with only the sound of Jungwoo’s laptop still playing in the background. A lighthearted scene that is too oxymoronic against the tension that is just palpable at this point. What the hell were you thinking coming here?

“What the hell were you thinking coming here?”, Jaehyun speaks your thoughts out loud, and you wince at how empty your head is with excuses.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What?”, he asks dumbly, hoping you would avoid asking again.

“Was it that hard to text me back? Am I such a waste of your time?”

Jaehyun seems angry at your confrontation, his bad mood escalating with every word that is leaving your mouth. He still avoids to look at you, toying with some plushies and decorations next to his bedpost. You realize you never had time to really notice them, barely recognizing them. You always entered the room blindly, pressed up against Jaehyun’s body and with his lips all over your neck, then left as soon as the sex was over. His apathy was infuriating.

One by one, you start to remove all of your outerwear, dropping your clothes on the floor until you’re left in only your bra and jeans. Jaehyun stares at you incredulously, then at the pile of clothes on the floor, unable to make out the reasoning behind your impromptu stripping.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting naked. Seems to be the only time you can actually pay attention to me.”

You reach for the buttons of your jeans, only able to unzip it halfway before Jaehyun has you pinned against the wall behind you, his fingers cool and pressing lightly against your neck.

“I-I fucking hate you!”, he cries, punching the surface to release some of the steam, and lets go of the hold on your neck almost completely. How tempted he is, to just fuck your right against that wall, pour out his anger by pouring out his cum inside you, then ignore each other like you always do.

It’s the easy thing to do, keeping the toxic circle going. All barking and fucking and no real problem gets resolved in the end. He wouldn’t even call a cab for you, preferring to be hated for something he wasn’t than to be rejected for showing the real him. You would still have no idea about his feelings towards you, going around saying how awful he was while asking for a round two. But Jaehyun was tired.

“Can’t you tell that I am trying to distance myself from you?”, he sighs and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so emotionally exhausted.

“Why do you dislike me so much? We used to be friends and then one day you-“

“Friends? Just friends?”, he interrupts you with a chuckle and a sarcastic puff through his nose, and you shake your head.

“If you also think that what we had was more special than a common friendship then why act like you don’t know me?”

“You were the one who wanted to ‘forget about anything happening and never telling a soul about it’, remember?”

“I thought we came to a mutual agreement! I was just trying to save our careers and it worked Jaehyun, you got to debut and I-“

“And you just threw away everything we had like it was the easiest thing to do! Do you ever want to know how I feel, y/n? First you want nothing to do with me, left the company without even saying goodbye. Then I try to forget about you, become an asshole to keep you out of my life and suddenly you want to jump my bones. One day you just play blind to everything, asking for professionalism and now I’m the one ignoring you? What the fuck do you want? A fuck buddy? A professional? A friend?”

“I want you, Yoonoh. Fuck, I just want you”

You’re not sure which one of you initiates the kiss. His lips are as plump and kissed as hard as you recalled, a couple of tears staining your cheeks that you didn’t realize you were holding back. It felt so right, the way his head pushed and pulled away from yours, always inviting you back to him. One hand was situated over the dimples of your waist, the other lost between your hair, untangling it gently. You decided to lay yours over his heart, feeling its tempo and calming yourself down.

You kiss for what seems like an eternity, so drunk in bliss that you can’t remember how you made it through life without Jaehyun’s taste all over your tongue. When he pulls away from your lips, you almost whine, but his fingertips dabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks feel just as comforting.

“I don’t want us to be like this anymore”, you whisper to him and he nods encouragingly, holding you even closer. “I’m sorry for not reaching out to you all these years ago, I just thought ‘What would a brand new idol want to do with a failed trainee like me’-“

Jaehyun brings your fingers to his lips, kissing all your knuckles one by one and you think you’re gonna burst at the seams. “You weren’t a failure, you were the best thing to happen to me back then”. His voice is so sincere that you don’t dare question the veracity of what he’s saying and you let him continue. “When I saw you again I was so bitter, I decided to turn off my feelings. I think I get too comfortable in that role. I put it on for me, my members, my fans even”, he stops then, laughing sadly, “it’s how I finally got you”

It was your turn to open up his eyes to the truth, holding his face between your hands and admiring its beauty. 

“That’s not true. I kept staying because I knew what was hidden behind all that armor. I guess, the sex was the only way to get closer to you”

“Not because I’m good?”, he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and you can feel his dimples forming under your fingers.

“Eh, you’re pretty good too”

He starts pecking your neck, his smile obvious in his kisses and you squeal when he lifts you to his bed. Bouncing on the hard mattress, you let him lay his body weight over yours as he gives you a million traces of his love. 

“So, I’m guessing this means we start over?”, he asks reluctantly as he emerges from your half naked body and you hold back from cooing at him.

“I thought you loved to hate me?”

“I think I hate it, but I love you”

[crestfallenyh]

8:23AM—.

"don't forget to eat something before you leave!"

hongjoong let out a small giggle at the purplish post-it adhered to the pristine surface that the dining table in the middle of your small, practical kitchen was. a cup of tea with milk and —most likely— tons of sugar was also waiting for him and he sleepily rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, his heart slowly warming up when he noticed the lingering essence of the coffee you probably you just had, because you had taken the time to make him a hot drink since you knew he couldn't really drink bitter things.

it was a small detail, and it most definitely had happened in the past, but it still brought the faintest trace of a smile to his lips, smile that didn't go away even as he finished his quick breakfast and got up to get ready for work.

it wasn't usual for him to stay at your place in days where his schedule was packed, because although he liked it a lot more than his own dorm full of noisy (and nosy, too) guys, it was further from the company's building. he could've sacrificed his precious hours of sleep if that meant he could spend some alone time with you, but more often than not he found himself nagged by either you or his members. so the rare moments he could actually get you to himself for an entire night away from everyone else, it was impossible for him not to be happy.

particularly the evening before you had been a lot more cuddly, and the reminiscing feeling of your lips over his and your fingers tracing delicate figures over the exposed skin of his chest still made him tremble. you had warned him though, that you probably wouldn't be there when he woke up because you needed to be at work first thing in the morning, so he wasn't upset. just a little worried, because as he walked by the window, he could see heavy raining hitting the window panes.

not even two steps into the bathroom and an even wider grin settled on his sharp features. almost anywhere he looked, there was a star-shaped, heart-shaped, and even apple-shaped post-it with a cheesy message or a cute drawing in it. from pastel colors to neon shades of orange and green, he couldn't stop looking with wide eyes.

he grasped the closest note to him, which happened to be the one on top of the toothpaste cap. its bright pink color burned in the back of his eyes, yet he still laughed at your attempt of drawing small hearts all over the paper.

"i wanted to wake you up, but you looked like you needed a lot of sleep. see you later?"

he could tell by the way your handwriting looked just a little more smudged with every note he found, that you had had a pretty rushed morning. probably running from here to there, he even wondered if you had overslept and the sole thought made him chuckle. he couldn't stop giggling, thinking you were absolutely adorable.

although he hadn't been awake to say goodbye and wish you a good day properly, he still felt your love through your words and actions. it were things like this, seemingly small but meaningful acts that helped get him through exhaustive hours of recording and producing at the studio, filming new contents and even practicing the group's choreographies, all of it while still being in a good mood only to find you waiting for him at home after you both were done with your day.

he was practically bouncing on his feet as he made his way to the door, picking up an umbrella from the coat rack and folding carefully between his finger one last (or so he thought) note. a blue one, square shaped.

"take this with you, we wouldn't want you to catch a cold ):"

not long after the company's black van stopped in front of your building, the door opening to reveal his teammates and manager waiting for him to get on. he greeted them and soon enough the sound of eight voices overlapped with each other as all of them tried to update him on what happened in his absence. however, san's voice resonated louder from one moment to the other, making him blush and the rest of the members cackle.

"i love you, my moon and stars?"

frozen to the core, hongjoong only could blink one, two, three times in a row. "come again?"

san shrugged and pointed at the back of hongjoong's long trench coat. he hurried to take off the post-it he missed in his rush to get out of your house in time and gave them an embarrassed glare, ignoring the giggling and instead slipping the piece of paper in his pocket. he got his phone out, typing a message and immediately smiling when the delivered and read marks appeared on the screen, one after the other.

"from: hj.

my coat, really? ㅋㅋㅋ i love you too, doll face. thank you for the breakfast and the notes, see you at home yeah? xx"

[whydontwebegin]

day 4 - free day (IDENTITY)

There is a price to becoming a god.

this one got away from me, not as much blatant davekat here but there is a very significant and very gay davekat thing and they love each other v much ok now, some people may have been wondering, if they've been reading all of my decay au stuff: just how fucking long have they all been around? a long fucking time. all my davekat week stuff is taking place in the ballpark of 700-1300 years except this one, which goes back to Early in their personal timelines to explain how the fuck Karkat and the others who never hit god tier are keeping up. Here's your answer! no tws that i can think of, but read away at your own risk!

Dave had spent a lot of time thinking. He, after all, had nothing but time, he’d looped back several times over to stay within Karkat’s lifespan before he found a solution to his inevitable withering away due to mortality.

He had sealed his solution with a kiss as he sunk his power into Karkat’s veins to stop the clock. He remembered the way Karkat had shivered as the power had sunk into his skin, and Dave had watched it shift and ripple as the damage done by age was steadily reversed, breathing life previously lost back into him. Their shared fear of his death finally ebbed.

He had worked for hours, years, decades before he dared to do this.

And yet. And yet.

The whole endeavor had brought something to his attention.

“I am not alone. Callie, Kanaya, they’re space players too. But Aradia is still in the furthest ring. Who knows if she’ll ever come back.”

He was different. Every session required a time and a space player to succeed. Without them, your session was null. It could never bear fruit.

“Should one of us crumble and fall, the others will be there to pick up the slack. But not for you. Space can bend and warp but it has others to keep it stable.”

With Aradia gone, unreachable, they only had one time player.

“Dave, you hold the universe in your hands.”

What was he supposed to do when he had gone past the limitations of a Knight? He was rooted in his class, always, but his power had filtered beyond it over the time he had spent searching for a way to save Karkat. He knew this.

He wasn’t sure if the Dave that had left that first time he looped back was the same Dave that came back.

(“…No, you’re different now. You’re older. Stronger. If this continues, I think it’ll reach a point where you threaten to overflow from your body at any given moment... I can hear—I can hear clockwork. You sound like clockwork if I listen closely enough.”

“Do you think I’m just broken?”

Dirk shook his head. “That’s not it. You’re different, but you aren’t broken. You kept looping back, but now that you’ve synced back up with us, you’re older than everyone here by a long shot. We haven’t had the same time to grow into godhood.”)

Who were you, when you looked back across your own timeline and observed it as though you were a stranger? Dave could barely understand some of the things he did at thirteen anymore.

It scared him.

—

Karkat remembered when Dave had trailed his hands across his skin and the way the temporal energy burned as it sunk into his bones. It had been a pleasant burn, not a painful one—far closer to pleasure as it settled and he felt it sing in resonance with the energy still dancing on his skin as it rolled off of Dave. He remembered the disorienting feeling where the familiar and the foreign overlapped as he looked in the mirror afterwards, Dave’s hands on his hips as he peered around him. He could still feel Dave’s power buzzing under his skin.

The person he saw in the mirror both was and was not Karkat Vantas. It had, undeniably, been the face he wore around the time of his adult molt. The things age had taken from him—subtle things, more visible to a troll than most humans—were returned.

Just like that, he no longer had to fear his body giving out. He no longer had to worry about leaving Dave alone. Any of his friends—family—alone.

He had sunk to his knees and cried from the relief and Dave had held him close, not quite the same as he had been hours ago. For him, it had been years, Karkat knew.

He had been different, more inhuman. Karkat was already inhuman, beyond the sense of being literally not human. But in Dave he caught a glimpse of the future and he wasn’t sure if it scared him or excited him.

He caught a glimpse of the inevitable and wondered if his identity would gain the same stress fractures, if he would be unknowable in the same way, except he knew Dave like he knew nothing else. It was a strange feeling.

There was something well and truly divine under his hands and now he could feel it, he could hear it, a resonance ticking in time with everything Dave represented.

And then the years passed. He, like everyone else, stayed the same. The pantheon the only true thing that weathered time, immutable and unchanging—to a mortal. But they all knew it, they all felt it, the way they changed. Their power grew, even those who never achieved god-tier. Decades into centuries and the time slipped from them like sand from their hands.

In almost every sense of the word, they were all immortals. Some artificial, clocks halted by the careful hands of time itself, and some natural, immutable as the laws of the world itself. Sometimes Karkat wondered, if he met his younger self, if he met the angry troll who had been on that meteor, would they be able to recognize each other? Was there still enough of that boy left in him to be recognizable? Or had he fallen away in the intervening time, chipped and fallen along his path by the resonance?

Karkat rumbled deep in his chest and felt how Dave nuzzled into his neck with a sleepy grumble and knew that he would never know.

[arrowflier]

A fic prompt if you'd like: Mickey opening up to Ian about details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. In 11x06 after Terry is brought home Mickey says he could do anything to him now like "piss on him and let him air dry" and "use his mouth as an ash tray". To me it sounds like those are examples of things that Terry has done to him.

Content warning: child abuse

the things he did

“You’re so much better than that.”

Ian’s words echoed in Mickey’s head while the cooked dinner together. They resonated as they sat side by side at the table to eat, shoulders brushing, rings glinting in the harsh lights of the kitchen. They played on loop as they retired to the living room, alone for once with everyone else out for the night who knew where, sitting close on the sofa as mindless sitcoms droned on from the television.

“What if I’m not?” Mickey asked abruptly, when it got to be too much.

Ian turned to look at him, face full of shadows in the blue light from the tv.

“What if you’re not what?” he questioned, confused, and Mickey shifted away from him, bringing a knee onto the sofa between them to face his husband.

“Not better than that,” he answered, and saw Ian realize what he was talking about. It was in the way his eyes softened in that harsh light, the way his lips turned down at the thought that Mickey might question himself.

He always took it personally when Mickey did that.

“You are, Mickey,” Ian reassured instantly, just as expected. “I know you are.”

Mickey shook his head, looking down. His fingers scratched at the label of his beer, tearing it from the condensation-wet bottle.

“You don’t,” he said quietly. “No one fucking does.” He shook his head, looked up again into Ian’s green eyes. “You don’t just come away from a life like that and turn out alright.”

Ian looked like he wanted to argue. His chin was already pushing out, his lips pressed tight and thin.

Mickey didn’t give him a chance.

“If you knew half the things he did to us, man,” Mickey laughed humorlessly, averting his gaze again. “He should be on death row right now, not sitting next door with a roof over his fuckin’ head.”

“Tell me,” Ian prompted softly, but Mickey shook his head.

“You don’t want to hear this shit, Ian.” At least, Mickey didn’t want him to hear it. Didn’t want him to think of Terry when he looked at Mickey’s face.

“I do though,” Ian countered easily. “Wanna know everything about you, Mick.”

He was always saying things like that. Always trying to challenge the barriers Mickey put up.

But Mickey always challenged his, too, so he supposed that it was a fair enough trade.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey said anyway, glancing up at Ian’s face and down again. “Gonna change what you think of me,” he added more quietly, and bit his lip at how pathetic it made him sound.

“Mickey,” Ian said. That was it, just his name. But it made things better, somehow. “Nothing can change how I feel about you,” Ian went on. “Besides, I was there for some it, remember?”

Mickey snorted, and took a swig of beer.

“How could I fuckin’ forget?”

They sat in silence for a long moment, only the sound of the clock ticking behind them and the strains of an annoying jingle on the TV filling the room. Ian didn’t scoot any closer, didn’t ask Mickey again. He just sat in his presence, calming sipping his own drink, and waited Mickey out.

It was a technique that never failed him.

“It wasn’t too bad when our mom was there,” Mickey started out of nowhere. “She was strung out most of the time, but she cared, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, scratched his neck. “At least in her own way.”

“And when she wasn’t?” Ian prompted gently. Not pushing, just providing a guiding hand.

Mickey shook his head. “When she wasn’t, things really went to hell.”

A beat. The TV had changed over to some new infomercial, an obnoxiously eager voice droning on about the ‘next best thing’, whatever that was. Mickey ignored it. They both did.

“Iggy and Colin were already used to it, I think,” Mickey expanded. “They were around more the first few times she left, when Mandy and I were still in school. They knew what was coming when she was gone for good.”

Ian made a sound, deep in his throat. He set down his glass on the coffee table, overlapping the multitude of condensation rings that already marred the surface, and grabbed up the carton of cigarettes that lay there. He lit it with a spare lighter, took a drag, and passed it over to Mickey’s waiting hand.

“What about you?” he asked casually. Too casually for the way his fingers shook when Mickey took the cigarette from him.

Mickey scoffed. “Me?” he repeated, then took a drag himself. He held it in as long as he could, breathed it out in a plume of smoke that hid the new wetness in his eyes.

“I was a naive little shit whose mamma hadn’t warned him how bad Terry could get,” Mickey said, then took another hit.

“The first time he hit me—really hit me, not just a cuff around the ears for mouthing off—he laid me out flat on the kitchen floor. I had eaten the last side of bacon, see,” he explained. “Mandy made it for me after school. And Terry’d been savin’ it for after whatever run he was out on.”

Ian stayed silent.

“Couldn’t tell him it was Mandy’s fault,” Mickey went on. “He didn’t care that she was a girl.” Mickey flicked the ashes off the end of the cigarette, watched them fall. Watched the tiny burns it made on the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t care until she was useful.”

Ian swallowed hard at the reminder of what Terry had done to his best friend. But this was about Mickey right now, not Mandy, and as much as she was entrenched in that part of his life, it wasn’t what he needed to get out.

So Ian scooted closer, brushed ashes off Mickey’s knee and rested his hand there, waiting.

Mickey stared at the point of contact, then at his cigarette again.

“You know he used to burn me with these?” Mickey asked abruptly, waving the lit stick in his hand. “Think it was an accident, the first time. Caught me suckin’ on a candy one when I was a kid, told me I needed to man up. Tried to stick a lit one in my mouth, but he was drunk. Used the wrong end.”

He tongued the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t eat for two days while it was healin’.” He chuckled, shook his head. “I was suck a fuckin’ wimp back then, man.”

“Not the worst thing he’s put in my mouth, though,” Mickey continued, on a roll now. His voice was faint, full of that absent quality it got when he wasn’t really there. When he was reliving his nightmares in real time.

“Stumbled into my room more than once looking for the toilet,” he confided. “Forgot there was a second door, I think. He usually just went in the corner, but he got me on my bed more than once.”

Mickey paused, looked up at Ian through his lashes.

“You know why I don’t breathe through my mouth anymore?”

Ian shook his head.

“Wakin’ up to the taste of piss will teach you that trick real quick.”

The cigarette was gone, now, and his beer was only dregs. Mickey stared at a space over Ian’s shoulder, breathing heavy, refusing to let his eyes spill over.

He was done crying for the kid that let his dad walk all over him. He was done crying for Terry. He was done with all of it.

And he really, really wished that were true.

“Frank locked me in the basement, once,” Ian stated suddenly, taking the empty beer bottle out of Mickey’s hand and placing it with his own glass on the table. “During one of my mom’s episodes, when she wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Mickey just looked at him. Let Ian take his hand, turn it over to hold it in his.

“He told Fiona I was at a sleepover, and she believed him—forgot I didn’t really have any friends.” Ian grinned, then, but it was empty, almost sharp.

You had friends, Mickey wanted to say. You had family. You had me.

But the first and the last were lies, and the middle wasn’t always a blessing.

“Lip found me two days later,” Ian told him. “He got suspicious when he saw Frank taking food down there; he was an asshole, but he wasn’t gonna starve a kid on purpose, at least.”

Ian laughed, and rubbed his free hand along the leg of his pants.

“He just didn’t want to look at me.”

Mickey gripped his hand tighter.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” he asked. “It’s not a fuckin’ competition, man.”

“I’m just saying,” Ian pressed on. “We don’t have to be our dads, Mickey.”

Oh. And there it was. Ian, his husband, ever the optimist.

“What if we don’t get that choice?” Mickey questioned. He’d seen it often enough, after all. Milkoviches that tried to get out, tried to do better for themselves and their kids.

But they always ended up back where they started. They always ended up under Terry’s roof, and under his thumb, just waiting for another chance to break free.

Ian shrugged, and pulled him closer, tucking Mickey’s head into the space between his own neck and shoulder. Mickey made a grumbling sound, but went without protest, tilting his head so that his nose rested near Ian’s collarbone.

“Then I guess we have to kill each other,” Ian stated blandly.

Mickey gave a stunned, barked laugh, breath hitching and releasing in a wash of hot air over Ian’s neck.

“Ian, what the fuck?” he managed, but Ian only gripped him tighter, pressing his face into skin so that he couldn’t speak.

“It’s for the greater good, Mick,” Ian assured him. “Mutually assured destruction, and all that, right?”

He ran a hand down Mickey’s back, scratching lightly.

“I lock you in a basement, you take me out,” he declared. “You piss on me—well, without my permission at least—”

“Ew, Ian, Jesus Christ—”

“I get to murder you in your sleep.” Ian pulled back just enough to look at him, Mickey meeting his eyes without a struggle this time. For all the macabre discussions, Ian’s eyes were bright.

“Deal?” Ian asked, and Mickey finally smiled.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy,” he agreed. “It’s a fuckin’ deal.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 5

A/N  Sorry for the long break between chapters.  As some of you might have seen from my Tumblr blog, I’ve been off on vacation these past two weeks.  Plus, when I felt the urge to write, it was my new Vaquero AU that kept calling to me (21,000 words and counting!), rather than this fic.  Which is probably a good argument for why I don��t like to post WIPs.  In any event, here is the next chapter some of you have been asking for, entitled Third Appointment.  Be careful what you wish for.  Angst ahead, plus a trigger warning for infertility trauma, miscarriage.

The first four chapters are available on my AO3 page.

The Thursday after her impromptu encounter with Jamie and his niece at the Royal Hospital for Children, Claire woke with a strange twisting pain in her gut.  Skipping breakfast, she was halfway to her office before she diagnosed herself with an acute case of nerves, the kind that sprouted between her lungs and ribcage like a vestigial organ whose sole purpose was to unsettle her.

She wasn’t in the habit of meeting patients outside of the clinical confines of her practice, but it was more than that.  Jamie had caught her in a moment of weakness, with both her personal and professional armour missing.  What he might have seen and how he could have interpreted it had occupied her thoughts ever since.

Eating lunch was out of the question.  By the time two o’clock approached, her insides were a buzzing hornets’ nest of anxiety, her palms clammy with sweat.  A half-empty bottle of Xanax called to her from the bottom of her purse.  Before she could weigh the implications of taking one at work on an empty stomach, Jamie’s familiar knock intervened.

She could tell as soon as he entered that Maggie hadn’t needed a transfusion that week.  His russet curls shone like garnets in the midday sun and his uncanny eyes glittered like sapphires.  Still, he avoided looking directly her way as he settled into his usual chair, and she wondered if the overlap of their personal and professional lives had left him feeling unnerved as well.

“No wheat grass smoothie,” he commented, his gaze running over her desk.

“No, I didn’t have time for lunch today.”  It was a blatant falsehood, since she’d spent her lunch hour picking her cuticles until they bled, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ye should eat more, Sassen..., Doctor Beauchamp.  Ye canna help anyone else if ye’re no’ properly nourished.”  She caught the slip, and for some reason it angered her.

“Is this your attempt to negotiate a reduction in your fees, Jamie?  Dietary advice in return for counselling?  Because if so, I’m afraid I don’t bill on the barter system,” she snapped, despising her churlish tone.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, then dimmed.  Message received, he sat up straighter in the armchair and crossed a foot over his knee, assuming a position of poised and detached calm that had no doubt served him well during business negotiations.  She regrouped by pretending to glance at her journal for the notes from their previous session, although the space next to his name was accusingly blank.

Boundaries thus defined, the session went surprising well.  Jamie spoke of his relief that Maggie’s latest round of chemotherapy was over, allowing her to return home and to some semblance of a regular life for a child of six.  Claire coaxed him gently towards the topic of his overwhelming guilt for abandoning his family when he was most needed.  Jamie processed pain through the recounting of stories, coming to terms with his self-decreed transgression by weaving together the tale of those he loved and pointing to the holes his absence had caused.

As his resonant voice spun its web of words, Claire became aware of an underlying hum.  At first it was subtle, like the mumble of traffic from a far-off motorway.  But as their hour together ticked by, it grew in strength until she could no longer ignore the buzz that pressed against her from all directions.

“... saw that it was really Jenny and Ian who I was... Claire?  Doctor Beauchamp, are ye well?”  Jamie was watching her with concern, and she realized she’d been shaking her head, trying to dislodge the omnipresent hum.

“Yes, I’m... yes.  Sorry.  Just a funny noise that’s...  Please, continue.”  When Jamie didn’t immediately pick up the thread of his narrative, she tried again.  “You were saying something about Jenny and Ian?”

Instead of continuing his previous thought, Jamie picked that moment to broach the topic she’d desperately hoped he would avoid.

“I hope ye’re no’ upset about the other day, at the hospital.  I didna mean tae impose or tae... o’erstep the bounds of our relationship.  No’ that we have a relationship, mind,” he hastened to add.  “Only a professional one.  But when I saw ye, I couldna resist introducing ye tae wee Maggie.  I hadna told ye about her yet, and I thought...”

“Jamie, it’s fine,” she cut in, halting his rambling explanation.  “She’s a lovely girl.  They all are.  It’s only that, I’m sort of...”

“Ye’re verra good with them.  Children, that is.  Ye’ll make a fine mother one day.”

All the oxygen left the room at once.  Her heart beat so hard there was a bruised feeling behind her sternum.   Launching to her feet, Claire stumbled blindly away from her desk.  She wanted to run, to scream, but her vision was a narrow chasm and a now-deafening throb filled her ears.  She only made it a few steps before her knees buckled and the carpet floated upwards to meet her.

“Ifrinn!”  Jamie leapt to her side, catching her by the shoulders before her head could hit the floor.  He lowered them both carefully to the ground, resting her body against his lap.  “Sassenach?  Claire?  Can ye hear me?  Do I need tae call an ambulance?”  The words reached her from very far away, but the threat of medical intervention acted like a dose of smelling salts.

“No,” she groaned, the room spinning around her like a kaleidoscope.  “No hospital.  I just... need to eat,” she grasped at the most innocuous explanation for her current state.

Without dislodging her, Jamie stretched his long arm and brought back the small basket of miniature muffins that were the day’s offering from Geillis.  With surprising dexterity, he peeled away the paper one-handed and broke apart a bite-sized morsel, holding it gently against her lips.  Realizing that her dignity couldn’t get any more battered, Claire opened her mouth and allowed Jamie to feed her.  After only a few bites, the buzzing disappeared and she was able to sit up on her own.

“Thank you,” she murmured, afraid to look into his eyes for fear of the pity she knew she’d see there.  “You were right. I  should have eaten lunch, I guess.”

“Claire.”  Jamie made a prose poem of the single syllable of her name.  She looked up at him through her lashes, stunned to find him looking back, not with pity, but with something akin to adoration.  “Mo nighean donn,” he ran a tender hand through her loosened curls.  “Ye need tae care more for yerself.”

“I will.  I’ll try.”  And when she said it to him, she really meant it.  Jamie made the impossible seem probable.

They stared at one another, shoulder to shoulder on the floor of her office.  She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but nor did she move.  Her gaze flitted over his face, noticing a vestige of boyish freckles across the bridge of his nose, a mole hidden in the harvest stubble on his cheek.  Jamie was performing a parallel inventory, eyes finally coming to rest at the level of her mouth.

“Ye’ve got a wee crumb, jus’ there.”  Unconscious, her tongue swept out, triggering a predatory response, twin blue laser beams narrowing on the target she had just painted on her lower lip.

“I... I’d verra much like tae kiss ye, Claire.  May I?”

An amputated moan was all she could manage in response, but Jamie must have understood its meaning.  He bent his head until only a whisper separated them.  The air crackled, sending that extra organ plummeting towards her hollow womb.  Clenching her eyes shut in defeat, she closed the infinitesimal gap until they met in an effervescent caress of lip and tongue.

Cold washed over her skin, bathing her in gooseflesh.  Jamie tasted like he looked; a banquet of fresh, volatile flavours that called to mind a picnic in a meadow, a spray of sea foam, the warmth of hearth and home.  She could feel him trembling against her, his moist breath rushing against her cheek in shallow pants.  For a score of heartbeats, Claire was the happiest she had ever been.  Then, reality crashed down around her.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, pulling away.  “I... this can’t... I’m sorry.”

Jamie leaned back with a mixture of longing and resignation.  She hated adding herself to his list of regrets, but it was for the best.

“I’m your doctor, Jamie.  This isn’t right.”

“Aye, I ken.  I should apologize, but I canna seem tae find it in me tae repent.”

Jamie stood, reaching down to help Claire up as well.  As soon as it was apparent she was able to stand on her own, he dropped her hand as though it burned.  The line between his brows deepened, and she could see the question forming before he gave it voice.

“What if ye werena my doctor?  Would it be right then?”

“That’s neither here nor there, because I am, Jamie.  A relationship between patient and doctor of a romantic nature is ethically off-limits.”

Jamie nodded, apparently accepting her explanation at face value. Her heartbeat calmed.  He moved slowly, gathering his coat and starting to leave.  

“But what if ye weren’t?” he said, facing the door.  “If we’d met at the hospital, or out on the town?”

“I...” she stammered, searching desperately for any answer except for the truth.  “No, Jamie,” she said at last, watching as she destroyed his last bastion of hope.  “I’m sorry.  I just don’t feel that way about you.”

Nodding abruptly, Jamie let himself out of the office.  She listened to his low murmuring voice through the door as he spoke to Geillis, heard him make an appointment for the following week, then the loud snap of the main door closing.  Only then did she allow herself to collapse once more to the floor, angry sobs overtaking her.

***

“Are ye out of yer fuckin’ mind?” Geillis inquired with her usual brutal eloquence.

With the help of a Xanax, Claire had managed to see her last two patients of the day, and only needed to navigate the shoals of her office manager’s ire before she could go home and fully medicate herself into a dreamless sleep.

“Jes so we’re clear, ye want me tae write a letter terminating your services as a doctor an’ suggesting suitable alternative providers?  An’ ye want me tae send this letter, over email, tae Jamie Fraser?”

“That’s right.”  She had determined that icy calm was the best antidote to this conversation, which was fortuitous, since she felt numb all over.

“An’ what reason am I tae give fer this abrupt conclusion tae yer association wi’ Mr. Fraser?”

“I don’t owe him an explanation.  Only sufficient notice and an opportunity to seek counselling elsewhere,” she said, feigning reasonableness.

Pushed past her limits, Geillis rose from behind her desk, a tiny tempest of moral indignation.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, ye are a good friend, a fine doctor an’ a fair employer.  But I swear by the Almighty that if ye dinna drop the façade and tell me wha’ is going on I am going tae smack ye until yer ears ring!”

There was a certain relief in knowing that Geillis wouldn’t take no for an answer.  And unlike Jamie, she knew where Claire lived and would not let her rest until the truth came out.

“He kissed me.  Or rather, I kissed him.  And I liked it!  That’s why, Geillis.”

Her friend’s shoulders sagged, all righteousness gone in an instant.  She reached around Claire’s frame and held her in a bone-crushing one-sided hug.

“Och, hen.  An’ ye figured ye could deal wi’ those pesky feelings by jes, what? firing him as yer patient?”  

“I can’t deal with this right now, Geillis.  I can’t feel the way he makes me feel.  And this practice is all that I have left.  There’s no way I can risk losing it just for an affair that won’t even last the summer.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on her reasons for that dire prediction.  Geillis knew them as well as anyone.

“He’s an intelligent man, Claire. He’s gonna ken something is up.  Moreover, he’s a good man.  He deserves tae hear the truth.”

Shaking her head sadly, Claire walked towards the door.  Just before exiting, she called back softly to her friend.

“Geillis?  Make sure to include Dr. Rafferty’s name on the list of referrals.  I think they’d be a good match.

***

Monday morning dawned with little promise for the fledgling week.  Moving robotically through her weekend routine, Claire thought frequently of chickens.  How their bodies kept moving once their heads were lopped off, nerves and muscle and bone continuing to function for a time despite the fatal blow.

The elevator chimed its arrival on her floor.  As the doors slide open, Jamie was the first thing she saw.  He loomed by her still-locked office, a sun-topped thundercloud gripping a sheet of printer paper.

She’d worn her best black suit and a pair of chunky heels that brought her closer to his height.  Perhaps, on some subconscious level, she’d anticipated this confrontation.  Perversely, she relished it.  Vitriol and deceit didn’t suit her, but it was preferable to feeling absolutely nothing.

“Do ye mind tellin’ me,” Jamie began before she’d even set foot in the hallway, “jus’ what this is about, Claire?” He brandished the paper like a wanted poster.

“I would think it was self-explanatory, actually.  I’m terminating our professional relationship,” she huffed, golden eyes coming to life for the first time since Thursday.

“Via email.  Sent tae me by Miss Duncan, because ye dinna have the guts tae do it yerself.  Christ, Sassenach, even my ninth grade sweetheart didna dump me so cruelly!”

“I’m not your sweetheart!” she burst out, a flood of emotion cresting with her rising anger.  “Don’t call me that!  I was your doctor, Jamie, and now I’m nothing to you.  Nothing.  Just go.  Please.  Just go,” she finished weakly and without any hope that he’d listen.

“All this jus’ because I kissed you?” Jamie persevered.  At her stubborn silence, he continued, “Nah, I dinna think so.  Ye’re many things, Claire, but a coward isna one of them.”

She found this hysterically funny, since a coward was the only role she played to perfection.  She didn’t have time to laugh, however, because Jamie was suddenly standing much closer, forcing her to lift her chin to meet his stormy eyes.

“Nah,” he continued smoothly, a big cat alerted to the smell of its prey.  “If ye’d objected tae the kiss, ye would have told me so.  Read me the riot act or kneed me in the bawls.  I think ye’re scared, Doctor Beauchamp.  I think that kiss terrified ye, because ye realized ye liked it.  Somethin’ ye couldna  plan for in yer wee journal, right there under yer nose.  Bet it made yer heart beat so fast. So fast, jus’ like it is now.”

Jamie’s hand rested gently over the placket of her suit jacket, where he could surely feel the trip hammering of her pulse.

“Please,” she begged.  “Don’t.  I can’t...”

“Can’t what, Sassenach?” he whispered back, goading her.

The truth hung on her lips, and the toll of the past few days meant that she no longer had the strength to stop it from spilling forth.

“Can’t have children.  Ever.  I tried, for years.  Fourteen miscarriages, fourteen lost chances.  And seeing you with those children last week.  I know it’s presumptive, but I could never deny you that chance, Jamie.  That’s why I can’t see you anymore.”

She was looking down, watching the buttons of his shirt rise and fall with his agitated breath, but as she finished speaking, their movement ceased.  Chancing a glance upward, she was stunned by the fury that had overtaken his expression. 

Jamie opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to speak in a gritty growl.

“Mutation of the RUNX1 gene tha’ causes leukemia.  I was tested, along wi’ Jenny an’ Ian, after Maggie was diagnosed.  I have a fifty percent chance of passing it along tae my children.  An’ since I canna stand the thought of ano’er bairn havin’ tae suffer as Maggie has, as soon as I got the test results, I went out an’ had a vasectomy.”

Claire recoiled as though she’d been slapped, a high pitched whine in her ears.

“Ye’re no’ the only one who’s hurting, Claire!” Jamie continued, voice dashing against the rocks of her name.  “We’re no’ meant tae suffer alone.  Ye, of all people, should ken that.”

Stunned in the silence following the thunderclap of his revelation, she couldn’t find the words to express her sorrow, her outrage, and her crippling shame.  By the time the power of speech returned, Jamie was gone.