#trying to figure out who's i like more farro's or his

[lucifer-kane]

The drunken forehead kiss with Sergi in the van right Before was I think what made my MC go. 'Oh fuck I HAVE been into this guy for ages' in the back of his mind.

[barbwritesstuff]

Hi, Barb! Aspiring writer here hoping to get some advice from you. While reading Blood Moon, I couldn't help but notice just how real and genuine the formable romantic relationships are. Even though the time span of the story isn't very long, the romance that forms doesn't seem the least bit implausible? How do you do that? Like, it's often way too common to have unrealistical depictions with stuff like "love at first sight" or something. But with the romance in Blood Moon, I can actually see it happening.

Thanks so much for the ask, anon. 💙

Unfortunately, I'm not 100% sure how to answer this. What worked for me might not work for you. Also, I think most of my advice is really generic. Still, I hope it helps.

1. Write romances that you would like to read. If you don't understand the appeal of a character or trope, you probably won't be able to do a good job writing it. All the romances in Blood Moon are based on romantic tropes/characters I personally like (the goofy best friend with a secret crush, the scary warrior who's actually really sweet and gentle beneath their hardened shell, etc). I didn't, for example, write a 'rich guy in a suit' romance option, or a 'second chance' romantic plotline because those aren't things I personally like (even though other people do, which is totally fine). So, focus on what you think is romantic, not what you think other people will like.

2. Read. I know this is super basic, but it's still some of the best writing advice out there. Read read read. You want to write romances? Read romances. Can't afford books? Libraries are free. Don't have a library? Read free stuff online. A03 is HUGE. If you read something you like, try to figure out why you like it. If you read something and don't like it, try to figure out what went wrong.

3. Don't wait until chapter six to introduce half your romance options. This is probably one of my biggest mistakes in Blood Moon. Shawnie, Roe, and Farro's romantic routes were much harder to write because I introduced them so late. Don't make the same mistake I did.

4. Make the romantic characters interesting, fun and/or compelling in a way that has nothing to do with romance. Marco ranted about octopus sex and became the most popular RO in Blood Moon for months. Carrie fans always tell me they love how she uses meanness to mask her fear. Sergi exploded in popularity after he experienced a shared trauma with the main character. None of these things are explicitly romantic, but they made the characters more interesting for the readers.

I really hope that's useful, anon. Good luck. 💙

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 139

Day Two of the Food Festival!  This one has a specific request from @baelpenrose, which was fun to play with in the Low-Stim session (always on day 2).

To everyone who has reached out to tell me how much they are enjoying getting to see Sophia actually relax and just have fun for once.... Y’all are the best! It’s been fun writing it, too. 

New reader shout outs go to @corvallis, @penguin--person, @amphibiousuprising, @chip5-0, and I think @lostsoul8822. I think that’s everyone... If I missed you, please DM me, and I’ll add you to the next chapter.

On with the show!

The first day of the Festival, Conor and I ended up staying through not only Maverick’s shift but the one after, just so we could drag him to our favorite spots. Day two, however, Conor was on deck as Support Personnel as well as Maverick, and neither were assigned to me - for the first half of day two, we were in the Low Stim Mode, so I was pretty sure I could brave it on my own with everyone else’s proximity alerts and my own personal hyper-alertness preventing accidental bumps.

For me, the most exciting part was the different foods offered, and the fact that I could focus on just the food. Not having to ignore the other stimuli was a completely relaxing experience. The visual of the mural, with everything present, was still completely different in the even, indirect lighting. The dual nature of it was toned down significantly, leading to the overall feel being softer and overall more pleasant without being distracting.

Halfway through a very good pad thai, I spotted Derek and Sam sitting with Ivan and poking at something that Sam was clearly excited about and Derek was equally doubtful of. I circled around so they could see me approaching, and made a point to wave. “What do you think?” I asked, trying to sign as I spoke but hampered by the food in my hands.

“It was a good try,” Derek confessed, cheeks stuffed with something that had previously been on a plate to his left as a backup plan.

Setting my food down, I grinned mischievously. “Doing my best,” I signed, leading to laughter on all sides.

“You just told him you do him the best,” Ivan murmured, my face immediately flooding red.

“That is NOT what I meant,” I tried to explain out loud, over-enunciating while I clenched my hands in embarrassment.

To his credit, Derek signed what he seemed to understand I meant, emphasizing each sign. It was clear that I had gotten several out of order and added one that changed everything overall.

After repeating the signs and getting confirmation, I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “I tried.”

Ivan was trembling with laughter. “You. You did,” he admitted. “But that was… wow.” His head dropped on his hands as he shook silently.

“Souffle pancakes?” I offered, finger spelling the word souffle since I had no freaking clue how to actually sign it.

“Egg pancake,” Derek explained, poking the one I offered and contemplating the jiggle.

“It’s cinnamon sugar, and not gooey,” I explained.

Apparently I got that one right, because Derek immediately stabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth.  The only judgement I needed was the fact that he dragged the entire remaining pancake onto his plate.

Sam watched his roommate before contemplating his own sample. Before he could even ask, I held up a cup full of macerated berries. “And fruit topping for you, sir.”

“Are those my berries?” he asked, skeptical.

I shook my head. “Bog standard, from the consoles. Your vegetables and fruits are being used in the other shifts. We didn’t want to give anyone here unexpected tastes.”

He nodded and dumped the entire cup of fruit over his pancake, digging in happily.

Ivan batted his eyes at me until I explained. “Sam’s produce has… unexpected pairings. Tomatoes that pair with cheesecake and wines, strawberries that really go well with steak…”

“The mango that goes with beer but not fish?”

“Yeah, that one. Von soil does strange things to produce, turns out.”

“Those matcha-edamame are amazing though.”

“For ice cream, yes. For tea, less so. They’re like… cooking matcha, almost.” I laughed. They actually worked better for ice cream than matcha did, oddly - reducing the sugar content but still giving the same flavor.

“One vendor on the last day is using nothing but my produce,” Sam announced happily. “They asked my permission.”

“That’s good!” I encouraged him. “They should always ask your permission to do things like that.”

“People ask with requisition forms,” he agreed. “Mona asked in person.”

Note to self: much more patronage at Mona’s normal spot, I swore in my head.  She specialized in vegetarian dishes, and honestly made some of the best fried cabbage I’d had in my life.  Knowing that she was so considerate of Sam cemented her as my new favorite takeaway place.

After a little more chat, I finally waved my goodbyes to everyone and strolled slowly to the next tempting stall. I wasn’t really in any hurry, and did more people-watching than I did eating. Latkes were infinitely more interesting when I could overhear people arguing over family recipes.  A small bowl of udon was delicious, but not nearly as flavorful as the discussion around hot versus cold, what to top them with, egg or no egg… the only thing anyone seemed to agree on was that the smiling vendor ‘obviously’ ground their own flour, because the flour provided by the consoles was the wrong texture.

Another mental note: don’t learn to make udon.  Despite what I had previously believed, it takes a lifetime to make it right, turns out.

Wandering further down, I was delighted by the discovery of something that was very clearly Hannah’s doing: demonstrations of older food prep techniques.  Simon winked at me as he carried on a demonstration of - insanely - how to hand pull toffee. I didn’t know he could do that. Muna was demonstrating the correct way to make chapatis and handing them out as fast as she was making them. Clearly, she had been making them her whole life, because at no point did I actually see her look at them, but every single one was perfect.

Laughter erupted over my shoulder, and I whipped my head around to see the source. After wading through a crowd of smiling faces, I couldn’t help but join in.  There, right in front of the entire Ark, was Maverick trying to flip takoyaki as fast as the person demonstrating, and ending up with just a mess of octopus and batter on his side.  Both Maverick and the person guiding him were smiling, though, and in the end, the vendor handed Maverick four perfectly-round balls and quickly devoured all of the - less shapely, so to speak - ones on my partner’s side.  With an exuberant cheer and extending his arms wide to the crowd, the man exclaimed “The first takoyaki of a new student are always my favorite! Nothing tastes better!”

After bowing to his sensei, Maverick turned and spotted me, face still flushed with laughter.  He offered his food to a smaller man I did not recognize, who must have been the person Maverick was Supporting, before waving to me and continuing on.  Despite the urge to crush him in a hug, I forced my feet to stay in place and reminded myself that he was working.

By the time I trusted myself not to race after him, I realized someone had been trying to get my attention and had resorted to messaging me rather than shouting. “Phee, I don’t know what la-la land you are lost in, but look 100 yards to your four.”

The hell was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t scheduled to work this shift, as far as I was aware.  Craning my neck over my shoulder, I turned to see… Apparently a hallucination. It had to be.  There was no chance in any of the nine hells that Arthur Farro was dishing out spaghetti, much less smiling while doing it.

Almost dreamlike, I found myself drifting over to confirm that I was wrong, only to be startled when he shoved a plate with not only spaghetti but two gorgeous pieces of garlic bread under my nose. “Special plates, you can’t smell anything unless it’s on purpose.”

“You… Spaghetti?” I asked, eloquent as ever.

“Family recipe.”

“Leaning into the stereotype a bit, aren’t you?” I asked carefully before shoving as much of one thick, crusty piece of toast in my mouth as I could.

He shook his head. “Anyone who tells you their family is Italian and denies having a family recipe for anything is a damned liar.”

Skeptically, I took a bite. It was amazing. “Ah ee deh rehahee,” I tried to get out around the heap of pasta I was steadily shoving in my mouth.

“Maverick is a very bad influence on your table manners,” he observed drily, plating more portions and handing them out. “And no. Not happening.”

“You know I can cook.”

“Not the point. I also know that you will fiddle with it until it is unrecognizable, so there’s really no point in giving it to you.”

Defiantly, I took a smaller bite and chewed carefully. “Garlic, onions, obviously. Sausage and minced… Lamb? But that’s probably just for this session, knowing you it’s spicy sausage regularly.  I’m not getting carrot, though, so no soffritto? Unexpected…. Is that thyme, I’m tasting?”

“Rosemary, you heathen. And you’re still wrong.”

I mumbled to myself. “What did I get wrong? It’s gotta be the lamb… maybe he does usually use the lamb? I’m certain it is lamb…”

“It is lamb, and no, I don’t usually use it. But you left several things out.”

I stared at the plate again, confused. “I didn’t think I needed to mention the tomatoes….”

“Basil… oregano….” he drawled.

“Duhhh?” I poked through the last bite on my plate, sniffing it, trying to figure out what I was missing. “Fine, you win, I’m lost.”

“Mushrooms, Sophia. There’s mushrooms. Jeezus. It was an easy one, too.”  He showed me a bowl full of what looked like cooked and crumbled sausage, only for me to realize it was the tiniest diced mushrooms I had ever seen in my life.

“I am dying to know how you got them that small.”

“With a knife?” He arched an eyebrow at me as he turned to start another batch of sauce.

“Yeah, no shit, Arthur.”

“Correct, there is no shit in the spaghetti,” he confirmed cheekily as the vegetables started sizzling.

“Asshole,” I laughed, scraping the remaining sauce from my plate with the piece of bread I saved just for that purpose. Just as I was frowning at the sauce-less plate and remaining half-piece of bread, a scalding hot dollop of fresh sauce invaded my vision.

“You love me, because I won’t let you frown at your bread like that.”

Fiiiinnnne I sighed in my head as I shoved a piece of saucy, saucy bread into my cheeks and waggled my fingers to let him get back to work.

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[herewegobacktomoon]

Freaking out

Hi everyone, this is the first time I write a fanfic. I did because after watching 4x03 episode, I had some thoughts about how I would have liked to see Maya and Carina dealing with the freaking out. So, in order not to get crazy, I decided to note down my ideas, hoping that you may like it or interact with me, about what you were expecting or about your ideas about the episode!! I hope you all enjoy the reading. 

“So Carina moved in, this morning she made me French toast and I... I know “how nice”, “what a lovely gesture”: my super, super hot Italian girlfriend got up earlier to make this gourmet breakfast and I sat there nearly breaking out in hives because it was so... it was so nice. I mean, too nice? I kept looking around my apartment at her things on my bookshelves and her vagina art, and her bras drying in my bathroom, and I was like “Is this my life now?” I mean... I'm allergic to monogamy, and I moved in with my girlfriend during a pandemic, and there's something wrong with me because she's perfect and I want to be with her.I want to live with her, but it's like my body has a security system that goes off at all the wrong times. Or maybe it's just that Carina is light and lovely and I'm not. I'm dark and messy as hell.”

Maya was heading back home from work, with all these words floating in her head.

It had been an overwhelming day, with all the Sullivan's related stuff, the report, Dixon who did nothing but throwing up roadblocks, Warren who had lost his PRT, and last but not least the call, which had been unpredictably scary, above all for Miller.

The only good thing was that, with Andy, they had started taking one step towards each other, trying to acknowledge some of the mistakes they had made and led them to have their friendship hanging by a thread.

Although apparently she didn't have time to think, all day she couldn't help but thinking about Carina and what had happened that morning.

She thought about her words and couldn't figure out how she was feeling; guilty for what she had said to Andy, angry at herself for not having been able to talk to Carina, or just messy, but it was probably all of them.

She took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions, trying to establish some kind of order between all that chaos she had in her head, and stepped inside.

A warm and soft voice immediately welcomed her “Hi bella, how was your day?”.  

Before Maya could answer, Carina had already placed a gentle kiss on her lips, smiling widely but with her eyes not as bright as usual.

Maya felt her heart thudding, a feeling only Carina was able to provoke: “Quite long and tiring, but at least, it all went good. What about you?” she said, walking towards the couch, both to relax a bit and to avoid eye-contact with her girlfriend.

Carina hesitated a little, and then answered, with her voice struggling to sound confident “My day was quite tiring too, I've picked up all my stuff from the boxes and cleaned the house. Now you can sleep well, no more mess around!” she added, smiling, trying to push away what was bothering her.

Maya hinted at a smile, a faded but sincere one, and she went towards the bathroom to take a shower, as if it would have washed away all her insecurities.

Meanwhile, Carina started making dinner, to switch her mind off, but the attempt turned out to be quite an awful solution.

Her head brought her back to that look on Maya's face, to those beautiful warm eyes who seemed to be actual ice that morning. She could tell Maya was absent-minded, but she could only speculate about it as she didn't say a word.

She hadn't said anything to her girlfriend, but as a 100% Italian woman, she had been thinking about it all day, trying to understand what could have been the reason for her reaction, making assumptions which were not helping at all. Her mind started wandering in the darkest places possible and she couldn't stop it from doing so. She had strongly tried to keep herself busy, but it hadn't been that useful.

She wanted to talk to Maya about it, but she was also afraid that a wrong word may have caused a new storm that she had no strength to handle alone right now.

When Maya came back to the kitchen, the situation wasn't that different: she had washed away the sweat, the smog, all the dirt her skin had absorbed in a full-day of work, but her own words, each doubt, every single fear kept stuck to her.

“The dinner's ready, I made you my specialty: panzanella di farro and then, there's also a surprise baking in the oven!” Carina said, getting closer to the table and to Maya, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“I don't deserve you. You're perfect.” the blonde replied, caressing her girlfriend's face, staring at her for a whole minute, as she was a creature who came from another world.

If she could see a light, a stable one, in that storm that had engulfed her that morning, it was her love for Carina: she had no doubt about it, about what she felt for her. It was just that she had to find a way to live that feeling free from anxious thoughts and fear.

They both sat at the table, having dinner quite silently, exchanging just a few words, the necessary ones to keep a conversation going without actually having it.

Half an hour later, between some sips of white wine and some bites of an extremely well-cooked meal, Carina got up to take a sweet-smelling pie. As Maya saw it, she rolled her eyes and claimed:

“Oh God, I'm gonna get sooo fat. Baby, my sweet tooth will undoubtedly thank you later: you know me too well.”

Without even thinking about it, with a soft voice which followed a deep sigh, Carina let these words come out of her mouth: “I wish I would...”

Maya froze: her whole body stopped responding after hearing these words. She knew Carina's tone was warm, with no angst in it, but it was as if her words had switched on something inside her.

With insecurity biting her tongue, Maya asked “Hey babe, is there something wrong?”

Carina's expression suddenly changed, making Maya feeling concerned, as she didn't see it coming at all.

The Italian's eyes got wider, but not with joy: they were teary, struggling to look straightforward as she lowered her head, not to show that she was feeling like the world was crumbling down.

Maya took a step closer, cupping her girlfriend's face in her hands and kissing her softly:“I'm here for you. Tell me, what's going on?”.

“I don't know... I, I don't know how to explain it...” Carina said with her broken voice, in the attempt of keeping her tears in.

Maya took her by the hand and led her to the couch, where they sat, with Carina resting her back on Maya's chest, wrapped in her arms as she tried to calm down.

When they were all cuddled up, probably feeling safer, Carina tried to continue: “ This morning, while we were having breakfast, there was this look you made that...that worried me. I have been thinking about it all day...”

Maya immediately realized: she wasn't the only one who had had to face a storm that day.

Although it was hard for her, to explain her feelings, she decided to try, to make an effort to show Carina it wasn't about her.

“I know...” she said breathing heavily “I freaked out...”

Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on Carina, as if she was afraid to lose her, to make another false move.

The Italian noticed it, but she didn't move, she felt safe. She just took Maya's hand, stroking it softly, to let her girlfriend know she was there, listening to her.

“Why?” she asked warmly.

“Because I don't know how love works... And the table time, was it breakfast or lunch or dinner, never felt like something good to me since I was a child. It was a time for rewards or punishments: there were no in-between, no emotions to be showed.”

Carina's heart started beating faster, as if it was following the pace of Maya's.

“Oh Maya, I'm sorry... I didn't think of it as a possible trigger for you, I didn't want to upset you.”

She turned towards her, for another kiss, before Maya could add “Carina, it's not your fault. Actually you didn't upset me at all: I think that French toast made me orgasm”.

Carina giggled childishly, also quite proudly, and then asked “Why didn't you tell me that? You know that I'm here for you, and I hope you can trust me enough to open up with me. It's hard, I'm aware of it, but we can do it together, one step at the time.”

Maya nodded and squeezed her hand, trying to find the right words to not mess everything up again.

She didn't want to hurt her girlfriend, but she feared not being capable of it: she knew each word as a huge power that can either save you or destroy you.

She hesitated and Carina got up from her chest, now sitting right in front of her, their hands still intertwined: “You can talk, directly, I can handle this. What matters now is that your feelings find their way out, so that you can feel lighter and free.”

Maya was looking at her admiringly: with Carina, everything was different. Everything had always been different, since their very fist meeting, at the bar. It was as if her eyes could read Maya's soul, in such a pure way she didn't think it was possible.

Then, she let out a deep sigh and said: “The more I get to spend time with you, the more I think I'm the luckiest person on this world.” a very much needed kiss interrupted her speech again, but it was worth it. It gave her enough confidence to keep talking.

“Well, you know... I feel like it's kinda weird having this conversation with my girlfriend, but I need to, so...as you probably know, in my CV, just right after gold medalist champion and Firefighter captain, you can find “queen of monogamy”, I mean you could have found it if you had read it before I had met you. Ok this is quite awkward...” Maya was twisting her tongue, but Carina smiled at her, with a smirk which somehow reassured her. “Keep going, this story caught all my attention, Miss Maya – monogamy is for the weak- Bishop”.

Maya couldn't help but smile “I keep wondering why Vic can't just keep her mouth shut sometimes, my position is quite embarrassing at this point. Anyway...all this just to say that this was my life before you: occasional hook-ups which were nothing but an enjoyable night of self-care. But I've never known what loving someone feels like...I mean, most of my relationships, with my father, my mother or even my brother had always let me down, because of them or because of me, I don't know... but what happened is that I decided to throw away my feelings, shutting them up so that I didn't have to face disappointments anymore...”

Carina stared at her, listening carefully to every single word the blonde was saying and never loosening her grip on Maya's hand, delicately rubbing her thumb over it, to remind her that she had no intention to leave.

Maya's heart fastened her pace, causing her little trouble breathing, but she continued: “With you, it's different. Everything is new, my life has completely changed. To make things clear, it's not my “monogamy queendom” that I miss, because I love you so freaking much you have no idea. What I'm lacking of is a start point, a path to follow. I do truly love you like I never loved anyone else, but it feels like my body has a security system that doesn't allow me to do what I'd like to.

I fear that I could hurt you and that freezes me, every time...”

As Maya's eyes were starting to become sadder, Carina noticed it and took her into her arms.

Between a light kiss on the shoulder and a deeper one on the neck, Carina says “I know, it takes time to learn new stuff, above all where it's a totally new experience. But I want you to remember this: if I'm here, if I stayed, it's because I love you. It's true, people can hurt each other, but that doesn't mean they can't also heal each other. You made a mistake, it's true, but I forgave you and every day that goes by, your presence and your love are able to mend my scars.

I love you Maya and if you don't know the path to cross, it's not a big deal: we'll build one of our own and we'll find out how love works.”

Maya knew, in that precise moment, that asking Carina to move in with her, was the best choice she could have ever made: her words had made the storm in Maya calm down, leaving a little fire lit up, one of those fires which only ignite happiness.

Out of the blue, without saying a word she stood up, Carina looking at her with no clue of what was happening, and she grabbed her by the hand, pulling her in for a hug. Carina couldn't help but smile, kissing her girlfriend lips, lowering to her neck, and then finding her way to her collarbone.

With a smirk and her eyes full of both happiness and love, Maya said “I may not know what path to follow, but if we have to build our own one, I'm sure our first step is towards the bedroom.”

Carina nodded with a smirk “No doubts, Captain. I'll follow your lead”.

[letslipthehounds]

Rumor Has It

Summary: Luke Skywalker was the heir to the Empire.  Darth Vader had laid it down very clearly in his will. No one disputed that.  People did dispute how Skywalker had become the heir, though.  A few conversations as the galaxy came to terms with their new Emperor.

 I never intended to write a sequel to Succession, but today we on the New SW Canon discord server got into a very silly conversation about Luke as Heir to the Empire, and the new Emperor.  I was reminded of this universe, and I figured a little lighthearted fun was in order.  And then I wrote 2500 words of silly fluff today.  Egh, why not. We can all use a little bit of silliness.

 AO3 Link

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

 Leia Organa rolled her eyes as she read the papers. Luke Skywalker had been Emperor for all of a month, and people were finally accepting it.  But too many people were trying to figure out why Luke was the Emperor.  

 No one was doing the sensible thing, which was to ask Luke, or his closest friends, like Leia herself, Han Solo, or Wedge Antilles. No, they had theorize, and the theories were, in a word, crazy.

 Leia finished an opinion piece that declared that Darth Vader had been Anakin Skywalker’s best friend, and had sworn to take care of Anakin’s son, only for the Jedi to steal the boy away and raise him. The article explained that that was why Vader had been so obsessed with Luke.

Aside from the extreme anti-Jedi slant, it was a reasonable theory.  Another reasonable one was the one that said that Vader had been Obi-Wan Kenobi and had wanted Luke in revenge for Anakin Skywalker defeating him in a duel and leaving him in the suit.  (Which, aside from reversing the duel participants, was almost true.)

But then there were the crazy ones.  Vader had been Anakin’s lover, and therefore Luke’s other parent.  Vader had been a man named Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi who had actually died thirteen years before Vader ever appeared on the galactic scene.  Luke had stared at the article for that one in bewilderment. 

Han wandered into the kitchen.  “So, what’s the crazy theory today?” he asked as he got a cup of caf. 

“Not terribly crazy,” Leia said.  “Not like the one where Vader was in a threesome with Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, and that’s how Luke was born.”

Han chuckled.  “I like that one.”

Luke entered the kitchen, he was dressed in his more informal robes of office, head already bowed over a datapad.  “Morning,” he said as he put the pad down to get some caf and some instant farro porridge.”

“Morning,” Han and Leia said in unintentional chorus.

“I’m meeting with Grand Admiral Thrawn this morning,” Luke said.  “It’ll probably be all morning, we’re going over his reports from the Unknown Regions.”

“Sounds like fun, kid,” Han said. 

“Well, hopefully it won’t be more “why are you the Emperor?” nonsense,” Luke said.  “Though from all reports, he’s a pretty good commander and won’t believe all the rumors.”

“He’ll probably ask,” Leia warned.

“But not dwell on it.”  Luke ate rapidly before heading out.  “I’ll see you later.  Try not to start any more rumors, Han,” he added as he left.

Leia chuckled.  “He’s got you,” she admitted.

“All I said was that Vader and Anakin were closer than anyone believed!” Han protested.

“And that’s why people think our Father was… well, in love with our Father.”

Han sighed.  “Well, no one believes you and Luke when you say that Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, so what are we supposed to do?”

Leia smiled.  “Nothing we can do,” she admitted.  “Except deal with it.”

“I found a good one, by the way,” Han said.  “It said that Padmé Amidala, who was only slightly taller than you, was Darth Vader.”

“Wrong parent,” Leia said wryly.

Han shrugged and they smiled at each other. It was ridiculous how no one listened to them when they told the truth, but had to make up some sort of crazy explanation.

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

Luke entered the Emperor’s office.  It was on the list of things he had to renovate, but he’d at least had all the Sith artifacts removed, which helped with the atmosphere.  It was still too dark for his taste, with all the black and red.

Grand Admiral Thrawn, Mitth'raw'nuruodo in his own tradition, rose as Luke entered.  Luke sat, then gestured for Thrawn to sit as well.  Luke took a moment to study the alien Grand Admiral. His blue skin and red eyes were a startling combination.

“Grand Admiral, welcome,” Luke said. 

“My Emperor,” Thrawn said in reply.  “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Your reports seem important,” Luke said.  “However, before we start the briefing, are there any questions you want to ask about me?”  At Thrawn’s startled look, he smiled.  “I find that answering a few questions the Admirals, Moffs, and such have before starting makes for a smoother meeting.”

“Ah.  Well, in that case,” Thrawn paused.  “You and Lord Vader have some similar manners, from what I have observed.  You were both raised in similar cultures.”

“Yes,” Luke said.  “We both spent the first years of our lives- nine for him, and nineteen for me- on Tatooine.”

Thrawn nodded.  “I would have thought it would have been the Jedi culture,” he admitted.

“No,” Luke said.  “I didn’t learn about the Jedi until the same day I left Tatooine. I never got to learn much about their culture and practices.  I never had enough time to learn.  And now much of it is lost, with most, if not all, of the Jedi dead.”

Thrawn absorbed that information easily.  “Of course, My Emperor,” he said.  “And what about…” he hesitated, which Luke could tell was unusual.

“The rumors about why Vader picked me as his heir?”

“Yes, My Emperor.”

Luke smiled.  “Simply put, Lord Vader was my father.  Neither of us were aware the other survived until my name was revealed as the pilot that destroyed the Death Star.  My Father told me the truth himself, on Bespin.”

“And… all the rumors about who Lord Vader was?”

Luke sighed.  “I’ve told people that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader in the last days of the Republic, but no one seems to believe it, Admiral Thrawn.”

The alien narrowed his eyes in thought.  “Very well, My Emperor,” he said.  “I believe you.  Do you intend to do anything about the rumors?”

“No,” Luke said.  “Everyone they’re speculating about is dead now, and while it’s annoying, it’s not really harming anything.  It’s no matter.”

“Of course,” Thrawn murmured.

“Now than, if that’s the extent of your questions, let’s go over your reports and recommendations,” Luke said.  “I am concerned by the ones you call the Far Outsiders.”

Thrawn redirected his attention to his reports and the matters that he obviously felt were important enough to bring to the Emperor’s attention.

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

Luke tried very hard indeed to ignore the journalists as they watched him and Leia as they headed for a meeting.  They would love to get his attention- or Leia’s, Luke wasn’t entirely sure which they’d like more- and have them give an interview. They were heading for a meeting with former Senators right now, and Leia was going to provide him morale support and advice, since she was the one with the most experience in politics. 

The rumors about his rise to Emperor were growing stronger, and more annoying.  At least they seemed to have decided that Vader was actually Luke’s father, though the main theories seemed to be arguing on who Luke’s other parent or parents were- and hardly anyone seemed to take Luke seriously when he said that Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader.

Leia glanced at Luke, amused.  “There are times when I wish he wasn’t dead so I could kill him myself.”

Luke flattened out a grin.  “Who?  Vader or Palpatine?”

Luke could feel that his twin wanted to snicker, but she kept her face straight.  “Why not both?”

Luke tilted his head in thought.  “Perhaps.  We did find those clones of Palpatine…”

“Not quite the same,” Leia admitted.  “Besides, the poor clones were just empty shells.”

Luke nodded.  It was  disturbing, and Luke wasn’t sure what Palpatine had been planning for the clones. It looked like whatever it was, he had failed, at least.

Luke and Leia entered the meeting room.  This was a small meeting, mostly Senators who had been Rebels or who had supported the Rebellion in some way.

“Senators,” Luke said as he entered.  The Senators who had been sitting rose.  Luke tried to hide his unease.  He wasn’t used to people standing up when he entered a room, not even after more than a month.  “Thank you for coming.  I know some of you had a long trip here to Coruscant.”

Luke felt the slight surprise at the name.  He was not going to keep the name Imperial Center for the planet.  He had plans, and his Empire would eventually be an Empire in name only.

Luke sat down at the head of the table, and Leia took her place at his right hand. 

Unlike the meeting with Thrawn, Luke wasn’t going to explain things to the senators.  If any of them came up to ask to speak to him, then perhaps he would, but for now, they had work to do.

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

“And what do you think, Tal’ia?”

“Our new Emperor definitely favors simpler attire, and most of the outfits he’s been imaged wearing in public have been something that he could easily move in, he has a keen sense of color theory, Berad.”

“Odd, considering he reportedly grew up in a outer rim dust hole.”

“And a dust hole run by the Hutts at that.  And then he was a rebel.  Who knows where he picked up the knowledge.”

“Perhaps Princess Leia Organa has a hand in it?”

“Maybe, but his style is not Alderanni, it leans toward Nubian styles, but with influences I can’t figure out.”

“Too bad we’ll never get to ask him.”

“Oh yes, too bad indeed.  On the other hand, the ensemble he wore during the reopening of the Senate building, that we need to talk about.”

“Emperor Skywalker must know that blue is his color, especially that dark blue.”

“Oh yes, and the sandsilk was perfect.  He definitely likes the more subdued, tasteful expressions of wealth, unlike other members of the elite.”

“And having Princess Leia at his side, is he trying to send a signal?  They were reportedly quite close when they were in the Rebellion.”

“Maybe, but then there’s the Corellian, why does the Emperor allow him all the freedom he has?  Where does he fit in?”

“Between them?”

“Tal’ia!  This program is not the place!”

“Sorry, but can you imagine?”

“No, and I’m not going to.”

“It’d be hot, is all I’m saying.”

“He’s almost certainly here for the Princess, haven’t you seen the pictures of their night out two days ago?  So why does the Emperor allow it?”

“No idea, but that’s the tone, folks.  We’ll be back in a bit, but for now, enjoy this new hit from the Coruscant Levels, ‘I Didn’t Want to Say Goodbye.’”

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

Pooja Naberrie wanted to pace as she waited. She was finally in the palace to meet the new Emperor.  The rumors around him had made her hesitant to meet him, but she knew she needed to know which were true, and if certain ones were true, then he would have to know about their relationship. 

The servant entered the antechamber and beckoned her forward.  She took a deep breath and followed the servant into the Emperor’s receiving room. She took in the changed décor- most of the statues and artwork that the previous Emperor had favored was gone, though only a few plants had taken their place so far- and then the Emperor, sitting in a smaller, less intimidating version of the throne Emperor Palpatine had used.

“Senator Naberrie,” Emperor Skywalker said.  “I was somewhat surprised that you wanted to meet me.  I expected your world to want nothing to do with me.”

“I am not here as a representative of Naboo,” Pooja admitted.  “I am here because of…”  She took a deep breath.  “Some people are saying that your mother was Padmé Naberrie Amidala.”

Emperor Skywalker paused for a moment.  “She was,” he said.  “She died giving birth, and to keep me safe, they made it look like she was still pregnant.”

“I know she had given birth, and the child hidden. My mother told me after the Senate was disbanded.”

Skywalker nodded.  “Then the name isn’t coincidence?”

“My mother’s sister was Padmé Naberrie, Your Majesty.”

Skywalker smiled, and in that smile, Pooja could see her aunt.  “Then you are welcome here, cousin.  One moment, there’s someone else who should be here.”

Skywalker- Luke, she supposed- turned and spoke into a comlink.  Shortly after, Leia Organa entered.

“Luke?” Organa asked.

“Leia,” Luke said.  “This is Pooja Naberrie,” he said.  “Her aunt was Padmé Naberrie.”

Organa’s eyes widened.  “Then…”

Luke nodded.  “Senator Naberrie… may I call you Pooja?”

“Of course,” Pooja said. 

“Pooja, I was not born alone.  I have a twin sister, and we were separated when we were born, for safety’s sake.  Leia is my twin, and she is also your cousin.”

Pooja’s eyes widened and she turned to Organa- to Leia. It was easier to see the Naberrie looks in her, though her face was different enough that she wouldn’t have thought it at first.  “Cousin,” she said. 

Leia smiled.  “Cousin,” she returned.  “Thank you for coming, we don’t know much of our mother’s family.”

Pooja relaxed.  “I’ll be happy to tell stories- I even remember Aunt Padmé a bit, though I was young when she died.  And… can I tell the rest of the family?”

“Carefully, but yes,” Luke said.  “And… I’d like to meet them, whoever is left.”

“Oh yes.  Grandma will definitely want to meet you both.”

Leia gasped.  “Our grandmother is still alive?”

Pooja smiled.  “I have family photos,” she said.

Luke gestured to a set of chairs.  “We have a lot to talk about, Pooja, but… tell us about our family?”

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

Luke looked over as he felt a no-dead Jedi materialize to his right.  He smiled back as Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled at him.  “I’m sorry, Ben,” Luke said.

“What for?”

“The whole mess with people who won’t believe me about my father.”

Obi-Wan chuckled.  “Oh, I’m not upset with you, Luke,” he said.  “I admit, the people speculating that I’m Darth Vader are disconcerting, but I think you have it worse.”

Luke grimaced.  “I heard a group speculating today, they didn’t know I was there.  They suggested that I was Palpatine’s illegitimate child, and he and Mother had had an affair.”

Obi-Wan looked horrified for a moment before he regained control of his projection.  “Luke, I promise that is not true.”

“I know, it’s just… erg.” Luke made a disgusted face and shuddered.  “I think that’s the worst of the theories.”

Obi-Wan walked over and carefully set his hand on Luke’s shoulder.  It wasn’t like a regular hand, Luke could feel something more like static electricity, but the comfort was appreciated.

“You are Anakin Skywalker’s son, Luke.  And Padmé Amidala’s.  I see so much of both of them in you, but you are wholly your own person.  And who you are is a good man.  You have ultimate power in the galaxy, but all you are using it for is to return the power to the people.  You must not let the rumors you hear take over your life, and ruin what you want to accomplish.”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

“Besides, casting me as an evil Sith besides, most of the theories are incredibly funny.  Especially because you’ve told everyone the truth.”

Luke snickered.  “It’s incredibly funny how they take my words, or Leia’s, or Han’s, the wrong way.”

Obi-Wan laughed softly.  “I really is.  But Luke, you’ll be fine, and I will be with you for everything.  And I’m proud of you.”

Luke smiled.  “Despite the fact that half the galaxy thinks you’re the one who made me the Emperor?”

Obi-Wan laughed.  “Yes, despite that.”

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

Silliness and fluff.

Hope you enjoyed it!

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

May I ask for the boys reaction to their S/O being felt up or like forcefully kissed by someone else...if that makes sense.. do they get jealous or mad ...Thanks!!! Love your work!!!!

I have always hated the trope of a someone kissing someone who is not attracted to you. Like please no…

~~~~~

Noctis

He saw you across the ball, trying to find some way out of the corner that the young Viscount had wedged you in. Noctis was trying his absolute hardest to get out this annoying conversation that he and his Father were dragged into by the Duchess. He watched your nervous smile along with Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis who had all attempted to come to your rescue only to be halted by something or another.

Everyone at this party knew that the two of you were an item, undeniable to one another, but the young Viscount set his eyes on you and everyone knew that he believed he was the Gods gift to women.

Blue eyes watched in horror as you were dragged to the dance floor at the start of a waltz. You had no issues dancing with anyone other than Noctis, but the way this man held you close, Noctis could see the look of rage bubbling in you, but were trying really hard to not deck royalty.

He couldn’t hear what the Viscount had said to you, but the range of emotion from shock to unbridled rage was seen on your face. Noctis turned as he felt something tap his leg, only to notice Regis’s cane tap at his calf. Seems that Regis was also watching and didn’t like where this was going.

“Noctis, you must introduce Y/N, please go fetch her,” Regis stated.

“Oh, the future Princess, I would be honored, she is such a doll and I…”

Noctis quickly left the Dushess rambling to his father who had made the sacrifice, he hardly got to the stairs to descend to the dancefloor when he saw you attempt to leave the Viscount to the floor alone only for the man to grab your hand and pull you back to him stealing a kiss from you.

Noctis saw red, as he reached over to whatever was beside him and tossed it across the room to where you were standing.

The Viscount was lucky that the Prince’s aim was off when he blinded grabbed for an item to warp with it, and instead of grabbing a steak knife had actually grabbed an oyster fork. Still, it shocked the Viscount when the blue light of the Prince appeared before him, harsh eyes glaring at him, as Noctis shoved you behind himself.

“Prince Noctis, it is a pleasure, I had no idea that you were…”

“Get out.”

The Viscount sputtered, “I beg your pardon.”

“Leave now.”

“Why whatever for?” He inquired all to innocently, that you actually wanted to stab him with the oyster fork.

You blinked, as Noctis wrapped an arm around you and moved through the crowd, feeling his hand trembling as he held tightly to you. Poor Noctis never backed down from a fight, but even he knew that he couldn’t pull a sword on the Viscount, at least not in public.

“Your Majesty.”

“Get rid of him Ignis,” Noctis growled.

You saw Gladiolus and Prompto move to flank you, only for two of the CrownsGaurd to appear, already taking the order as they had watched what transpired.

“We will handle this, Prince Noctis.” They stated.

You noticed the slight smirk on Noctis’s lips, what he wanted to do, the Gaurd would take care of.

~~~~~

Prompto

With Prompto being Noctis’s best friend, and you being Prompto’s girlfriend, that made you Noctis’s other best friend by proxy. So it was often that you got dressed to the nines and got to join Prompto and the others at royal galas. You knew that you couldn’t hog Prompto to yourself all night and most times a member of the guard or even Cor himself would keep you company.

What you would wish for one of them right now.

Prompto glanced up from his post of standing slightly behind Noctis, acting the Prince’s guard for the moment while Gladiolus when to the bathroom. He took his job of best friend sitting seriously but where were you?

“Hey is that Y/N?” Noctis asked, between greeting people.

Prompto turned to where the Prince was looking, only to gasp. He moved to step away only to stop, he still had to do his job. But that asshole was getting way too close for comfort. He spared a glance to Cor on the other side of the room, entertaining some Lady.

“There’s Gladio.” Noctis called, as the Shield moved back toward his post for the evening.

“Yeah, the Duke of, where’s he going?”

Prompto quickly moved through the crowd, grateful for all of those days of training with Cor. Who seemed to notice the situation you were in and was also on the way to your rescue. The blonde quickly put on speed as he bounced over dresses and around fancy suits as he saw the man tuck some of your hair behind your ear, leaning forward as you tried to fuse into the wall behind you.

“Y/N, there you are.” Prompto smiled, “I see you made a new friend.”

The man moved back, as he turned to Prompto with a sneer. “I take it this is your sibling?”

“My betrothed.” You replied a little story you and Prompto often gave to get out of issues such as this.

“Betrothed to this commoner?”

Prompto moved between the two of you, not liking the looks he was giving you, only to spot Cor. “Yes, and you are?”

The man scoffed angrily, “Talking to the lady, I’m certain I could offer her more than you can.”

At this point, Cor stepped in,”Young Lord, I see you have met Lord and Lady Argentum of the court.”

“Of the court?” He asked.

“Yes they are rather fond of their privacy,” Cor stated.

The man scoffed before turning away muttering about commoners, that went better than expected.

“Thank you, Marshal.”

Cor nodded before disappearing back into the crowd, always good to have a Dad friend.

~~~~~

Gladiolus

You could put models to shame, you had a body and mind that just would not quit! So when Gladiolus invited you to these fancy parties he knew you could handle yourself when it came to creeps, but that didn’t mean the big guy liked for them to come onto you.

He wasn’t given the title shield because of how big he was, that protective personality also came in handy.

So when he noticed the leering eyes of that Commander, toward your chest, and body while you engaged in conversation with a young lady in what he could only assume was the fine arts of a well-placed uppercut on a man he growled.

From his spot in the room her could not hear the exchange of words between the two of you but judging by your face, he knew for a fact that you were mere seconds away from showing the man how well you could execute a punch.

The shield placed down his cup of whatever they were serving tonight and moved through the crowd. Once getting closer he finally heard part of the conversation within your part of the room.

“…I can assure you that no man compares to me.”

“While I have to believe that, I am rather happy with my choice of beau.” You stated a frown on that lovely face. “I don’t believe it is wise to speak of such things before young ladies.” You replied, stepping before the young woman who Gladiolus just realized was around Iris’s age.

“Surely we can test that, help me find a private room.” The man reached forward towards your chest, only for you to slap his hand away, pushing the young girl further behind yourself this made Gladiolus not so softly push his way through the crowd.

“You little bitch!” The man sneered grabbing your arm, upset that you didn’t flinch as he had wanted.  “You think you’re so good?”

You narrowed your eyes, you could always state it was an accident, but how do you accidentally deck the Commander? Only to smile at the looming figure behind the man that was attempting to intimidate you.

“Hi Honey.” You cooed.

“Honey?” The man questioned before looking over his shoulder, only to stare at the looming figure of one Gladiolus Amicitia.

“Commander, meet my significant other Gladiolus Amicitia.” You smiled.

“Commander, I believe it would be wise to release my wife.”

The man quickly did so, making some excuse before rushing off into the crowd tail between his legs.

“Wife?” You whispered with a raised eyebrow.

Gladiolus gave you a shrug with a soft smile, as you rolled your eyes playfully.

You turned to the young lady behind you with a soft smile, “I would like to introduce you to the King’s Shield Gladiolus Amicitia. Gladiolus young Lind here is a big fan of your work, we were actually just talking about you.”

Gladiolus chuckled as he looked to the young girl who seemed to be on cloud nine while staring at the Amicitia. “Thank you for keeping Y/N company.”

~~~~~

Ignis

“That Y/N is simply amazing.”

Ignis couldn’t help but beam in the situation, of course, you were amazing! You had been the one to find the error and fix the issue that was causing the Citadel to lose thousands of dollars and lower the taxes for the citizens.

“King Regis is a wise man to place both yourself and Y/N in charge of this.” An elder man chuckled.

Ignis smiled, “I simply provide an area for Y/N, she did all the number crunching she is simply wonderful.”

“You can say that again. Should I have had a wife as Y/N, I’d be a lot more put together.” An older woman giggled.

Ignis smiled, as he glanced to you sitting on the chaise, speaking with some of the other young ladies that had joined you by the fireplace. He heard that familiar giggle of yours that stated you were becoming rather overwhelmed for the evening.

You were wonderful at your job of being behind the scenes but too much focus on you for too long and you’d become rather overwhelmed.

“You must simply join us for our luncheon next month.” A young woman smiled. “It would be lovely to hear from such a fascinating mind.”

“I would be honored, yet I will have to get back to you. Duty called around the Citadel.”

“Oh yes, yes of course.” They agreed.

“A jack of all trades, some would think it too much on that of a woman. Chancellor Farro.” A man called holding out his hand.

The women sneered at the man, Chancellor Farro was known for his womanizing and rather sexist ways. “Y/N we were thinking of retiring to the balcony, for fresh air.”

“I shall be along shortly.” You looked toward the other women, “Please ladies if you’ll excuse us.”

The woman all stood, sparing you a smile but the man a hiss as they moved to the balcony only to watch intently. If there was anyone that could put the Chancellor in his place it was you, and they had front row seats.

Ignis watched as the Chancellor placed a kiss to the back of your hand as customed. Yet the man did not let go, and actually took a seat beside you on the chaise rather than on the chairs open.

If his lip reading was correct Ignis, Farro was attempting to drag you through the mud and admit that you had nothing to do with the project. Simply a pretty face to appease to the women. When you didn’t fall for that tacit he went for the more charming aspect, of how you made men do the work for you.

You went to excuse yourself, only to find he still had a hold of your hand. When you moved to stand, you found yourself off balance, before crashing back to the couch. The Chancellor hand “accidentally” landing on your breast as he attempted to stop your fall.

Ignis knew the damage you could do when upset, but he also knew that you didn’t wish to do anything in such a smaller gathering or to reflect badly on himself.

“You don’t have to be such a stuck up…” The Chancellor gasped as he found himself soaking wet.

“My goodness, clumsy me,” Ignis called. “Are you alright Chancellor Farro?”

You giggled Ignis was so smooth, there was no way he’d even drop a sip of his drink. Plus you were still very much dry.

“Are you so daf…”The man stopped as he met the haunting green eyes of your boyfriend. “Lord Scientica, I was not aware that you were also in attendance.”

“Yes, I find it best to support my better half in her endeavors, she is an amazement to the Citadel. No man could find these troubles for years, and she managed to do so in less than a month.” Ignis stated, helping you to stand, holding you close, he could be so petty at times. “I would recommend you see to your suit, we wouldn’t wish the stain to sit.”

With that Ignis moved you towards the balcony where the ladies had been watching rather intently, “Do let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“Of course.” You cooed, as Ignis pressed a kiss to your knuckles, getting a coo from the ladies awaiting your presence on the balcony.

Ignis had no troubles being the hero when it called for it.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

As an apology for the character death lapse, how about Supercorp napping together?

Kara hates the way Lena gets quiet around the holidays. At first, it’s all just reminders of how apart she is– when her employees pack up and head home for a long weekend or two, Lena puts her head down and simply powers through it by putting in more hours at work.

And then when they start dating, a new kind of misery settles over Lena. As Kara watches, Lena agonizes over appropriate wines to bring to Friendsgiving, and worries that the truffled farro risotto is too pretentious to sit on a table with sweet potato casserole and Kraft macaroni and Pillsbury crescent rolls.

She sits quietly in her seat, unable to share in the stories of Friendsgiving yore without any of her own to throw into the mix. Her palm sits hot in Kara’s, fingers rigid as her grip rides the edge of clenching and bolting.

Christmas is even worse. They stay in National City instead of going to Midvale, and while Kara is glad for Eliza to come up for a visit– she is– it sends Lena into another spiral. She weathers the meeting of adopted mothers with a stiff upper lip, and Eliza thankfully maintains an appropriate physical distance (if she thought meeting Maggie Sawyer was hard, then she is woefully unprepared to navigate the uncharted tides of Lena Luthor), but as the advent calendar moves closer to Christmas Eve, Kara feels the tension near its snapping point.

When Lena texts her on Christmas Eve eve, the back-out isn’t wholly unexpected. Still, Kara calls instead of texting back.

“Lena…”

“Something’s come up,” Lena responds. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped.”

Kara sighs. “Okay. We’ll miss you.”

Over the line, Lena hesitates. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No, Lena, you don’t have to make up anything. I understand.”

Lena’s breath hitches against the phone. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Kara murmurs, turning away from where her sister and Eliza pretend not to eavesdrop. “I hope you know that.”

For a long moment, silence issues between them.

“Yeah,” Lena says finally. “I have to go.”

“I’ll text you,” Kara promises.

“Okay.”

Kara finished the preparations in a fog. Nothing about it feels right, but she doesn’t know how to fix it. Christmas Eve dawns in a flurry of stringing cranberries for the tree and icing cookies. By the time friends start to arrive, all Kara can think about is the fact Lena hasn’t texted back, or called. After dinner, her skin crawls with the absence of Lena.

“Excuse me,” she says, extricating herself from between Alex and Winn. “I have to make a phone call.”

Her sister nods in understanding, and Winn barely notices her departure. Kara doesn’t realize she’s about to ditch her own party until she opens the door, fully prepared to step through it and not stop until she finds Lena.

It’s by sheer chance that she finds Lena already on her doorstep.

A happy exclamation dies in her throat when Kara takes in Lena’s reddened eyes and hair tousled from anxious fingers running through it. All thoughts of the party vanish as she steps out to join her in the hall.

“Hey,” Kara says softly. “I was just on my way to find you. How long have you been out here?”

Lena scoffs in self-deprecation. “Long enough,” she rumbles, rolling damp eyes. “Kara, I– I’m sorry.”

“Lena, it’s fine–”

“Is it?” Lena asks sharply. “Is it, Kara? Because if it is, please explain it to me. Because for the life of me I can’t understand how I can want this,” she gestures towards the wall that stands between them and the celebration, “this very thing my whole life, and be unable to enjoy now that I finally have it! I don’t understand why I can’t just, just–”

“Hey,” Kara says smoothly, catching Lena by the arms. Lena sucks in a ragged breath as Kara steps in close. “You don’t have to just anything. Okay? Trust me, I get it. I do.”

Lena shakes her head. “I have always been on the outside, Kara. And I learned to be okay with that, because I could pretend that’s all there was. But now– it’s so much harder when the inside is staring me in the face.”

The sound of Lena’s voice cracking nearly undoes Kara entirely. Christmas cheer feels far away in the face of her loneliness, the loneliness that has spent years burrowing into her bones and feasting on the solitude her brother’s arrest left for her. All Kara can do is wrap her arms around Lena and hold on tight, and pray for Rao to send her some of his light. His warmth.

Lena seems to melt against her, if not in comfort then relief, for having given voice to the demons in her heart. When Kara eventually pulls back, she presses a gently kiss to her lips. Trembling lips kiss her back, until Lena lets their foreheads rest together.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want you to be with your family.”

It doesn’t answer her question. “Lena,” Kara tries again. “What do you want to do?”

Green eyes blink tearfully back at her. “I want to spend Christmas with you.”

With a nod, Kara takes Lena’s hand in hers. “Do you want to come inside?”

At Lena’s small nod, Kara slowly pushes the door open, leaving plenty of time for Lena to change her mind. She doesnt.

“Lena!”

“Hey, you made it!”

“Dibs for Pictionary!” Winn shouts amid the din of greetings, scaling over the back of the couch to loop his arm through hers. “We’re gonna trounce ‘em! Oh yeah! Merry Christmas, bee tee dubs.”

“Merry Christmas,” Lena returns hesitantly.

Alex gives her an extra firm hug, and Eliza is quick to slip an eggnog into her hand. “You’ll need to catch up,” she mutters conspiratorially. Lena accepts it with a damp smile.

She and Winn do crush at Pictionary, but then she and Kara lose spectacularly at Scattergories. Somewhere between Winn singing the tawdry versions of all the Christmas carols he knows, and breaking out Eliza’s chocolate pecan pie, the last knot of tension inside Lena loosens. She melts against KAra, who receives her with a kiss and an open arm.

One by one, they all nod off to “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and KAra snuggles a little closer.

“Stay the night?”

Lena blinks sleepily. “‘Kay.”

The next morning she borrows a set of Kara’s pajamas and stays all day. James leaves first, citing a skype call with his own family. Then Winn, who yawns as he promises to report back on how much Lyra loves the christmas presents he got her. Then it’s just Alex and Eliza and Kara and Lena. Eliza enlists Alex’s help in the kitchen, heating the pre-prepared sides they’d left in the fridge.

It’s nice, Alex decides, despite being voluntold while her sister cuddles on the couch with her girlfriend. It’s been a while since she and her mom connected, and filling the quiet with gentle talk soothes some of the residual hurts of a childhood that ended too soon.

“Finally,” Eliza murmurs, smiling at the figures on the couch. Alex follows her gaze, to where Kara has spread out with her feet propped up on her coffee table. Lena is curled up next to her, tucked against her side with her head pillowed on a muscular shoulder. Both of them doze peacefully, and with both faces devoid of make-up, their youth and exhaustion shows.

“That girl looks like she’s been wound up since the middle of October.”

Alex snorts into her mulled cider. “You’re not wrong.”

To her chagrin, their slumber means her dinner is about to be delayed. Eliza comes to the same conclusion. “How about a walk, honey?”

“Might as well.” Alex dumps her cider into a travel mug and takes it with her. Eliza rolls her eyes, but says nothing. At least it’s not a beer.

National City doesn’t get cold in the winter, but it does get crisp, and Alex doesn’t mind it when her mom loops their arms together and sidles up close. “I’m so proud of you girls,” Eliza says.

“Yeah?” Alex can’t help bracing for the backhanded compliment that feels sure to follow.

It doesn’t come.

“You two have found happiness,” Eliza affirms. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Tears tickle the back of Alex’s throat. “This years been tough.”

“I know, sweetheart. But you’re choosing happiness– your happiness. It took me a long time to realize how much you’ve sacrificed for others’ happiness, Alex. I realize now how much of that is because of what I expected of you.”

Alex doesn’t say anything. What’s done is done. She can only try to move forward, and live her life for herself.

“I’m so glad you managed to find your way, the way you want it. And I know you’ll find someone just as special as Maggie.”

“Doesn’t feel that way at the moment.”

“It never does. Not until it’s suddenly staring you in the face.” Her mom hugs her arm, giving her a reassuring shake. “But it will. I promise you.”

For the first time in years, Alex finds herself glad for her mother’s presence. She leans her head against Eliza’s and sighs a lungful of crisp winter air.

“Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. With all of my heart.”

[emeryegen]

Ring My Bell [November 30, 2017]

COMPLETE

Summary: A social media post brings Emery and Eberhard together again for dinner after a long time of being apart. They end up having a passionate moment of sex, but ultimately, Emery ends up kicking Eberhard to the curb and leaving him wondering.

Emery walks to the address that Eberhard had provided, giving the door two knocks before he pulls out his phone to absentmindedly browse through his social media as he waits for Eberhard to open it, a bit curious to what the other man had chosen for their dinner that night, but ready to let the surprise take its course.

Eberhard hears the knocks on the door, having just finished setting the table, he picks up the two tequila & triple sec citrus cocktail's, pulling out his phone turning on the stereo, just as he opens the door, playing the iconic Anita Ward song, a playful grin on his lips, as he takes in the man, "Überraschung!" He exclaims, covering Emery’s eyes and putting the drink to his lips, "Getränk." He laughs, before moving his way back into the apartment, pulling Emery in with him, his hand still over his eyes, "Dessert oder Abendessen?" He questions.

Emery sees the door open revealing Eberhard, holding two cocktails, before he hears the iconic Anita Ward song playing as he walks in, immediately feeling Eberhard cover his eyes, and tasting a tequila-based drink at his lips. "What, that you learned to make a drink other than the whiskey on the rocks you used to make us when we'd sneak the good stuff from your parents' liquor cabinet back in our Charleroi days? Come on, E, you know I'd imply it, but never say it," he deadpans, before he's pulled into the apartment, hearing Eberhard's question. "And, E, you mean and," he faux-chides, waiting for Eberhard to reveal the surprise.

Eberhard's lips curl up into an amused grin as he recalls the memories associated with his dry words, a light laughter rolling from him, "Ah, no need for such psuedo politeness, E², I'll take that as a compliment though, glad to hear some things have improved with age, hm?" He teases, pausing a bit as his grin widens, "Hm, but. do. I?" He punctuates and draws out the words, tapping lightly over Emery's temple, as he continues to cover his eyes, linking his arm with his and leading him to the table, leaning in close to his ear, "Bzzzt. Wrong." he blows, as he moves his hand off his face revealing the spread laid out - including two farro breakfast bowls with blistered tomatoes and kale, seared tofu with sweet chili sauce broccoli and garlic studded rice, and crêpes with blackberry sauce and orange-scented ricotta. "Viola." He winks, sitting down at the table taking a drink of his cocktail, "Go willllllllld, wolf." He declares, finger gunning him, "Although, I really should've left you blindfolded for the incorrect answers, absolutely." He puts his hand under his chin thinking thoughtfully, "Aw, double dog damn." He laughs, fixing his plate.

"Well then," Emery muses, "quite impressed that you've learned to become more than a one trick pony who can jostle open his parents' liquor cabinet. Brava, E, perhaps there is hope for us all." He then allows Eberhard to lead him, hearing the buzzing in his ear before he reveals the spread, causing a small smile to twitch in Emery's face. "Incorrect, E? I'd argue that you offered me a choice and that you failed to deliver on either point. Should I blindfold you and put you in the corner for not being a proper host? For shame." He then sits down at the table, taking a sip of the cocktail before putting some of the food on its plate. "How are you going to make up for this transgression, E? Please, do tell me, I'm waiting with bated breath."

Eberhard lets out a breathy chuckle at Emery's words, "I am wholly humbled that I could inspire you so, E². Some things never change, hm?" He teases, revealing the spread, a widespread smile tugging at his lips as he hears Emery's response, "Come now, learn to think past the available choices, you must think for yourself, despite what is placed before you. I figured you would remember that." He faux chides, before he lets out another laugh at the threat, "Perhaps, if you believe you could accomplish such a feat, you are of course, free to try and exercise your will." He muses, moving to chew a tomato, a smile pulling at his lips as he takes a refreshing drink of his cocktail, "Try the food first, before you move to the punishment phase, partner. Put some perspective on it, please." He grins, tipping his faux cowboy hat, taking another bite of his food.

"And yet some things do," Emery muses, before listening to Eberhard's response. "Hm, and now that I've seen the choices, I still want both dessert and dinner. Don't give the power of choice when you aren't prepared to deliver, E." He then moves to chew some of his food, a twitch of a smile coming to his lips at the flavors in it. "Nothing like anything Lunchlady Dolores would cook of course, bless her soul and her Meatloaf Mondays, but it'll do, E, it'll do. Punishment still pending, of course." He then works at finishing his food, savoring the flavors of it all and enjoying the refreshing cocktail.

"Well, where have I fallen short?" He muses, his brow quirking as he looks over at Emery, noting the twitch of a smile, one of his own developing at the sight, letting out a boisterous laugh and turning up his nose at the mention of Meatloaf Mondays, "What a blow!" He feigns being shot, clutching his chest, "I believe you exercised your punishment with that statement alone, I don't believe I'll be able to cook again, that shook my confidence completely." He wails, "Although, now logic follows the punishment is back on you, then. For such improper table manners-" He moves to stand up, "Which is truly tragic seeing as how I had an additional dessert on the table to celebrate but now, I'm honor bound to withhold it from you." He teases leaning over Emery as he moves towards him, moving to grab and pinch his cheek, "What's a guy to do, when faced with the infallible Charleroi code of conduct." He laments dramatically, moving to the fridge pulling out the homemade caramel peanut butter truffles, biting one in half as he finishes off his drink, promptly refreshing it as he leans against the island, taking another bite of the treat, "So, what brings you to these parts, pal?" He muses thoughtfully.

"Just a general statement," Emery muses. "I'm certain you could say the same thing about me." He then hears Eberhard's boisterous laughter, and he raises his eyebrows, even as a twitch of a smile develops oh his lips at the sound. "Oh, no, E, Lunchlady Dolores was an icon. You should strive to be like her. Who else could think of such interpretive uses for spam?" He asks, before he feels the pinch of his cheek and raises his eyebrow slightly, hearing Eberhard's lamentation. "Drink whiskey and smoke on the rooftop and pray Headmaster Franklin doesn't find you," Emery offers, finishing off his drink before moving over to where Eberhard was at the island, taking one of the truffles and placing it in his mouth. "Terrible job of withholding, E. About as useful a confinement as having a prison out in an open field." He finishes the truffle, enjoying the flavor, before looking at Eberhard. "I think the real question is what brings you here? Last I heard from you, you were in Belgium."

Eberhard holds his hand up the mention of Dolores being an icon, another laugh falling from him, "Ah, you are correct. I take it back, despite our immeasurable differences and tumultuous relationship, I must give credit where credit is do, she was certainly a woman ahead of her time, able to frankenmesh such uniquely and utterly unappetizing unholy concoctions. That could only be done with the upmost sense of self and creativity. Kudos, Dolores." He says, raising his glass in cheers, a devious smirk playing on his lips as he recalls the memory, "Solid plan, don't recall that ever biting me in the ass." He retorts, before his grin widens at the thought of the youthful folly they had gotten up to in that particular spot, "-Well." He shrugs, popping the rest of the truffle into his mouth and chewing purposefully. His grin returning as he sees Emery take one of the truffles, his fist resting under his chin as he hums thoughtfully, "Wow, well, wouldn't you know it, that's always been a weakness of mine." He flashes a devilish smirk, thinking onto the origin of a particular formative nickname, quickly clicking his tongue a few times, giving him a casual shrug. "I am who I am." He smiles, at the turning of the question, "Shifty, shifty. Belgium, mmm." He muses on his time and the cumulative experiences he garnered there, "Well, that is certainly a huge chunk of the tale you need to be caught up on then, as always, time in Belgium came to an end, needed to stretch my feet some, did a lot of traveling, as you should, really racked up the experiences, for about a year or so, best times, truly. I got accepted to Berkeley, accomplished about a semester of that cool Cali cruisin' vibe, before dad fell ill, thought it best to transfer to Columbia, to be closer to everyone, reign myself back into the circle, he, uh, died a bit after that, and well, I've been here ever since, so around....three years." He summarizes, giving a small smile despite the sad memory, popping another truffle into his mouth, his gaze focused on Emery, "Boom. Spark notes of one Eberhard, Everhard, if you're nasty, or Charleroi class 2010, Vennett. You're up next, now." He smiles, shooting him with a playful one handed finger gun.

"As you should. Show some respect, E," Emery states, shaking his head, clicking his tongue a bit, before raising his glass in cheers. "Ah, and here I do. Don't tell me your memory has faded over the years, E? And here you were supposed to be the youthful one between us, shame." He lets out a small, almost chuckle. "As am I." He takes another drink of his cocktail, before listening to the story, hearing the bit about Dwight Vennett, the story having gone through the Charleroi grapevine, before he sets his drink down to tell his own story. "Here for a JSD. Been working as an attorney up in Boston after graduating from Yale Law because what better place for a disloyal Yale man to go than to Harvard territory? This all comes after finishing up my tenure on the track team during undergrad at Stanford. Published a few papers, co-authored a book, and the Emerson thing, but that's neither here nor there, Everhard" Emery shrugs, casually slipping in the nickname. "You know I'm nasty, no surprise there." He deadpans, giving another quick shrug.

A delighted grin pulls at Eberhard's lips, "Ah, do not tell me, you of all people subscribe to such a woefully archaic social construct such as that now, my, time has certainly changed things, indeed." He teases, "I have quite a few reminders of such audacious irreverent folly of youth, no need to fret, old man." He continues on, amusement lighting his eyes, prior to listening intently to Emery's story in turn, noting the professional tone he chose to use for such a thing, a flash of hurt flashing through him at the mention of Emerson, he reaches his hand out, placing it and gently rubbing along the top of Emery's hand, throwing him a knowing and soft apologetic look, he mindfully steers the conversation away from the topic, sensing it was not something he wished to delve further into, "Wow, such a beautifully broad bio, so superbly accomplished absolutely, mister. My, I am particularly positively proud of ewe." He admits honestly, extending the last word and making a playful 'baaa' sound, taking another truffle, chewing a warm laugh falling from him as he hears his response and the dead pan delivery of it, raising his brow, "Do I?" He muses thoughtfully, studying his faith, amusement and a hint of arousal playing within his eyes.

"I suppose it has," Emery has, giving Eberhard a shrug, before a smirk tugs at his lips at his mentions of their follies of youth. "Good to hear," he states, lifting up his drink in the air before taking another sip, then listening to Eberhard's story and telling his own, before he feels the gentle rubbing on the top of his hand, causing him to retract his hand, a strike of discomfort in his stomach at the apologetic look that comes across Eberhard's face, before he uses the same hand to run his fingers through his hair, brushing off the gesture. "Don't start the name jokes, you make it far too easy, Everhard," he states with a shrug, before he hears the question and sees the amusement and arousal flash through Eberhard's eyes. "Do you?" He muses in return, studying Eberhard closely.

Eberhard is caught a bit off-guard by the quickness of which Emery takes his hand back, watching Emery closely as he runs his hand through his hair, pulling back a bit, taking the opportunity to refresh his drink, taking a deep drink of it. A laugh escaping him as he hears Emery's words despite the bit of awkwardness that lingered because of his earlier gesture, "Damn, there are only so many ways to call me easy, you would think no?" He gives another amused laugh, as he takes another drink, a devilish smirk tugging on his lips as he hears the question thrown back to him, and notes the close gaze the other man was watching him, letting a casual shrug roll from him as he keeps eye contact with him, "It's all a matter of perspective, of course." He answers, taking another slow drink, "All about the context, little ewe." He winks, before he melodically and deeply hums the beat of little bo peep, a warmness coming over him as he moves from his position, and dances  along to the beat of it and over to close the distance between them and moving his hand into his hair softly and leaning in for a kiss.

"I don't know, do you want me to keep trying?" Emery states, giving Eberhard another quick shrug as he takes a long sip of his drink, before he watches Eberhard dance closer to him until the distance between them is closed. He then feels the hand in his hair and sees Eberhard lean in for a kiss, from which he momentarily pulls back. "So tell me. What's the context of all this?" He says, raising his eyebrows at Eberhard as he waits for his answer.

"I wouldn't be opposed to such a juke, perhaps, even admittedly a bit curious to see if it was merely a fluke? Lay it on me, you kook." He retorts, dancing his way over to the man and moving to kiss him, feeling him pull back and hearing his question, meeting his gaze, "Ein herzliches willkommen?" He answers.

"Ah, here we go. Everhard, did you know that you're easy like Sunday morning?" He asks, before Eberhard moves closer, meeting his gaze as he hears the other man's answer. "Ist das alles?" He questions further, raising his eyebrow slightly as he studies Eberhard.

A twitch of a smirk develops onto his lips as he hears Emery's question, "That's why I'm easy. I'm easy like Sunday morning, why in the world would anybody put chains on me?" He sings deeply and melodically, a smile twitching onto his lips at remembering the song, moving his thumb gently across Emery's lips, "Ist das alles, was du willst?" He questions back, studying the man he had been close to for so many years, and apart from for almost as much. "Ich habe dich vermisst."

"Ah, maybe because I've paid my dues to make it, everybody wants me to be, what they want me to be?" Emery muses, chucking a bit before he looks back up at Eberhard, before he feels the movement of his thumb across his lips. "Mhm," Emery says, a tiny smirk flitting across his lips. "Hat mich auf welche Art verpasst, Eberhard? In the Eberhard way, or the Everhard if you're nasty kind of way?"

Eberhard holds his grin as he hears the next lines of the song, "I'm not happy when I try to fake it! No!" He sing counters, hearing his response to his question, nodding in confirmation at the one asked back to him, "Vielleicht sind sie ein bisschen einig?" His gaze flitting down to his lips, noting the small smirk, causing him to repetitively click his tongue a few times, "Nun, Letzteres ist sicher. Sie haben das früher bequemerweise aus Ihrem mündlichen Lebenslauf gestrichen, was für eine Schande." He says, moving his grasp along his neck as he pulls him into a deep, explorative kiss.

Emery chuckles a bit more at the sung line, before he hears the question, and raises his eyebrows a bit, closely studying Eberhard as he listens to Eberhard's statement. "Well, Eberhard Everhard if you're nasty Vennett, let's just say that I missed you in the latter way, too," he says, before moving into the deep, explorative kiss.

A toothy smile graces Eberhard's lips as he lets out a little chuckle at Emery's words, reveling in the sensations of the kiss feeling a sense of familiarity laced with a freshness, he notes before quickly turning the kiss more passionate, wanting more he swiftly works on removing his shirt, throwing it carelessly onto the floor, breaking the heated kiss. His blue-green eyes almost electric, "Oh, did eweee?" He ponders aloud, throwing his shirt off, "I do believe I'm going to have to withhold you from using that name, until you produce the particular evidence that you fit such a prerequisite and can rightfully reclaim." He declares, wrapping his arms around Emery's neck, leaving hot kisses along it, and down his chest, "Rules are rules, after all young man." He deepens his voice further, wagging his finger at the man, indulging in another fervent kiss, "The backbone of our civilized society, a man that can not adhere to such principled disciplines is most certainly an eternally damned soul." He continues the words, pulling them from the impassioned speech he heard from Headmaster Franklin, one too many times, moving his hands to undo his pants, continuing the kiss, relishing in it and deeply craving more from the man.

Emery indulges in the heated kiss before they break apart, as an almost smile tugs at his lips at Eberhard's comment. "Ah, don't boar me, E," he says flatly, even as a small spark of amusement dances in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, Everhard?" He breathes, in between heated kisses exchanged with the other man, hearing the impassioned Headmaster Franklin speech, a wider smirk tugging at his lips. "What are you going to do about it, Eberhard, when I've already eternally damned my soul many times over?" He moves to work at assisting Eberhard in removing his pants before undoing his own, leaving heated kisses along Eberhard's body as he sinks down to his knees to begin his practiced motions.

"How else can I impress ewe?" He makes a subtle exaggerated boar noise, in between heated kisses, pushing the man against the island at the use of the name again, and giving him a playful slap along his face and a harder one along his backside, wagging his finger disapprovingly at the man, despite the gleam of amusement playing in his gaze, going into the speech as he kisses along his body, hearing his question and amused smirked pulling at his lips, "Ah, well, what's one more for ewe." He agrees, his voice low and seductive along his ear, "Genießen Sie die Fahrt." He lowly groans, as he leans back, bracing himself as he feels the expert sensations washing over him, carressing his hand along Emery's face, and running his hand through his hair as he enjoys the motions, pulling on his hair once he feels the sensations become especially overpowering not intent on reaching such a peak any time soon, he lifts the other man up from his knees, pulling him into a ravenous kiss, his hand working skillfully along him, before pushing him onto the dining room table, swiftly falling to his knees to continue his prior motions with much more zest, his blue-green eyes meeting Emery's own as he does so.

"Mm," Emery muses, in between heated kisses, feeling the sharp slap along his backside, "surprise me." He then gives Eberhard a sharp smack along his backside before moving to turn the tables and push Eberhard against the island, bringing him into a fervent kiss once again. "Das werde ich," he growls back, before getting down on his knees to begin his motions before he's pulled up and pushed onto the dining room table, pleasure coursing through him at the sensations, but finding something...unsettling about the eye contact, and so he pushes Eberhard up from him, moving to then push Eberhard against the table, roughly kissing him as he begins to once again work skillfully against him, picking up from what he had begun earlier.

Eberhard lets out a light laugh as he's pushed onto the table, letting out a low groan at Emery's motions, before a grin develops onto his lips as he hears the song playing softly in the background, recognizing as the Primal Scream song, letting out another amused laugh, "Willst du immer noch, dass ich singe?" He hums, in between groans of pleasure, as he winks at Emery before pushing himself off the table and Emery roughly back against the island as he bends to grab his phone, moving to turn the the volume up, and loop the song, turning back to Emery with a devious smirk on his lips, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him with a ferocity, ""I'm trippin' on your love, I'm trippin' on your love." He sings deeply, humming the tune of the song, moving his hips along to the beat and along Emery, pulling him along, back to the table as he continues his hungry kisses along his body, moving to push Emery hard against the table again, pushing the dishes from the dinner off carelessly, climbing on-top of him, moving along to the beat and against Emery, "Bond so strong between us, bridge between our souls, lifts me like a bird of prey, heals the wounded boy." He seductively sings along Emery's ear as he continues to skillfully move along him, pulling him into a consuming kiss.

Emery continues his motions until he he hears the song begin to play in the background softly, causing a half smile to play at his lips in spite of himself as a chuckle rolls from his lips. "Miss a free performance from the shining star of Charleroi? Come on, Eberhard, my mind has not gone so much that I'd pass up an opportunity like that," he muses, his half smile widening a bit as Eberhard turns the volume up, his own smile taking on a devious glint as he sees Eberhard's, moving to furiously kiss Eberhard as he's aroused by both his motions and his singing, assisting in carelessly pushing the dishes as he gets caught up in the moment, joining in with Eberhard in spite of himself to sing, bridge between our souls, lifts me like a bird of prey, heals the wounded boy," along with him, their voices joining together melodically as they did when they were in their choir classes Chareleroi, moving in to the consuming kiss, feeling a fire within him as he indulges in it.

A bright grin plays on Eberhard's lips as he hears Emery join in with him, the sound of their voices melding and harmonizing causing a strong shiver to course through him, as he bites his lip, his brilliant blue-green eyes shimmering as they meets Emery's alluring blue eyes, gazing deeply into them, as he continues his energized and hungry expert motions against the man meeting his pace perfectly, reveling in the immense pleasure from the sensation of being connected to him once again. The realization and sensations flooding his body, mind, and soul, not focused on anything in the heated exchange but Emery and the way their body's were so intoxicatingly in tune. An amused laugh rolling from him as he feels the roll, changing their positions, his back hitting the table hard, but not minding the sensation at all, as he wrapped himself tightly around Emery, pulling him into a fiery wild famished kiss, craving to have more of him, all of him.

Emery allows himself to get caught up in the melodic intertwining of their voices, the deep way Eberhard was looking into his eyes causing something to strike once again inside him, though this time, it is dulled by the burning fire and pleasure inside of him as he feels the connection between him and the other man and just how in tune they were, and he moves hungrily into the firey, wild kiss, feeling completely ignited by it before he ensures that Eberhard is ready for what is to come next before he expertly and intensely moves his body against Eberhard, the entire experience utterly euphoric, continuing with intoxicating synchronism until they reach a mutually gratifying destination, the experience unlike anything quite like anything...since the last time he and Eberhard were together, he realizes, with that same strike of a feeling returning to him as he pulls apart from Eberhard, studying the other man for a brief moment, truly taking in seeing the lamb tattoo in full view for the first time after all those years, and in the moment, it all just becomes too much. He moves to throw his clothes back on quickly, running his fingers through his hair, before turning to look back at Eberhard, a part of him wanting to stay longer, to fully indulge in their reunion, but too much of him in the moment wished to go, and so he gives Eberhard a quick two fingered salute before turning towards the door. "Got somewhere I have to be. See ya, E. Don't you forget about me." He sings the last part to the tune of the song by the same name, before putting his jacket back on him and closing the door behind him, lighting a cigarette once he's outside and taking a deep drag of it before walking out into the night.

Eberhard indulges deeply into the euphorically intoxicating synchronism, not holding back whatsoever, yearning to give himself wholly to the heated experience, to Emery, freely letting his ecstatic sounds of pleasure flow from him, until he feels himself reaching his peak, intensely holding Emery's gaze, expertly moving against him so they would arrive together. His efforts soon paying off as they reach a mutual release, the experience causing a euphoric unparalleled transcendence over him. He lies back onto the table, spent, his breathes heavy as he works to overcome the weakness he was feeling, in the moment, watching Emery's gaze fall onto his tattoo, a smile twitches onto his lips, as he eyes flit to it's match, tracing over it, "Du hast es behalten." The sight causing an immense warmth to flow through him, he leans in and kisses over the tattoo gently, pulling Emery into a deep kiss, moving his hand over his heart, allowing Emery to feel the beat of it, as he moves to caress his tattoo, reveling in the moment and sensation before he's caught off guard by the unexpected breaking of it. Another shiver striking through him as he watches Emery quickly scramble off of him and redress, a hurt coursing through him at how he seemed not able to stand to be around him any further, he swallows harshly a lump developing in his throat in the moment, yearning to grab him, for him to stay a bit longer, but not having the will to do so in the moment, not when that wasn't what he wanted, again. He places a smile onto his lips, nodding his head, giving a small laugh as he clears his throat, "Yeah, right, of course. In a while, crocodile. D-Don't be a stranger, ewe," He says back, watching him leave, moving off the table with a huff and moving to fix himself a strong drink, before he even thinks on beginning to clean up.

- COMPLETE -

[chorusfm]

It’s hard to overstate just how tumultuous the past decade of Paramore’s career has been. Since before the recording of Brand New Eyes the band has been regularly rocked by near career-ending shifts. While some bands are lucky enough to go through no lineup changes throughout their career, or when lineup changes do happen the splits are often amicable, Paramore has had no such luck. I don’t need to rehash any of the details of this unrest except to say this: While the turmoil would crush almost any other band, the members that have remained, or returned, to Paramore have fought through all adversity to arrive at After Laughter, the crowning achievement of their career so far.

At once a deeply wistful look back at the past decade-plus of the band’s history and a clear eyed assessment of the future, After Laughter is a record about the moments between total heartbreak and absolute elation. These in-between moments allow us to pick up the pieces broken during the former and come down from the euphoric high of the latter, and reassess what our purpose is here on this floating rock. These moments make up the vast totality of our time on Earth, but for some reason they don’t often feel as romantic.

To use one one of the album’s song titles, After Laughter is a record that is “Caught in the Middle” between joyous sounding music and some of the most dark, introspective lyrics that vocalist Hayley Williams has ever written. The aforementioned song, which begins with a bouncy bass line and could easily have been a No Doubt song from the 90s, starts off with Williams baring her soul and her insecurities: “I can’t think of getting old / It only makes me want to die / And I can’t think of who I was / ‘Cause it just makes me want to cry.” It’s these moments that make After Laughter the most honest Paramore record to date.

Nowhere is this seen more than on “Fake Happy,” a song about how we as humans have a tendency to put on a brave face for the people around us. I have thought a lot about this recently, in light of realizing just how dehumanizing social media is. We let the world see into a tiny sliver of our lives, the brightest moments, while blocking out the darkest parts from view. It’s an inherently unhealthy way to live life, a fact that Williams seems to have come to terms with during the writing process of After Laughter. “Fake Happy” is a song about learning to be open and honest about your insecurities and fears (“If I go out tonight, dress up my fears, you think I’ll look alright with these mascara tears.”), displaying them proudly instead of try to hide them (“I’m gonna draw my lipstick wider than my mouth, and if the lights are low they’ll never see me frown.”)

On a record where Paramore wear their Fleetwood Mac influence on their sleeve, “26” is the band’s “Landslide.” There’s the obvious musical comparison in how a simple acoustic ballad swells into a string composition, one that emphasizes the simple timeless tune in a way that feels effortless instead of overpowering. But lyrically, the song is as stirring and contemplative a tune as “Landslide.” Featuring a clever callback to the band’s 2009 single “Brick By Boring Brick,” “26” develops into a song about holding on to dreams even when your surroundings seem bleak. Williams synthesizes all of the wisdom she has learned over the course of recording the album into the song’s bridge: “Reality will break your heart / Survival will not be the hardest part / It’s keeping all your hopes alive / when the rest of you has died / So let it break your heart.” Without doubt, this is After Laughter’s defining moment.

In a stroke of brilliance, the band enlists Aaron Weiss of meWithoutYou to helm the song “No Friends,” which functions as both an “Idle Worship” outro and a standalone song. The song features a number of lyrical references to Paramore’s early material, “another song I wrote that’s too long god knows no one needs (Looking Up) more misguided ghosts / more transparent hands / they drop a nickel in our basket and we’ll do our Riot dance.” Of all the endlessly fascinating things about “No Friends,” one of the most interesting is that it is essentially a meWithoutYou song embedded within the construct of a pop record. The band apparently gave Weiss free reign to create his own lyrics for the track, which have the same dense, anti-chronological storytelling Weiss’s music often displays. Weiss’s vocals also seem intentionally buried in the mix, to have the musical effect of forcing you to “lean in,” listening closely to the track to catch his words and to turn the turn the track up to ear splitting levels and let its trance-like quality wash over you.

I do think in all honesty I could spend days deep-diving into every track, and I think that just speaks to how meticulously crafted this 12-song collection is.

At about the midway point of the album, Paramore comes through with the perfectly timed “Pool,” which sounds like the perfect mid-2000s pop song. I grew up listening to a Christian radio station in central New Jersey, and the first song I can ever remember really falling in love with and calling my favorite song was Stephen Curtis Chapman’s “Dive.” I doubt the connection between the two songs was intentional, but listening to “Pool” reminds me of the feeling of growing up listening to that song and the exhilaration of falling in love with music.

While the throat-shredding vulnerability of “All I Wanted” and the post-rock bombast “Future” are both iconic previous closers, the band throws a complete sonic curveball with After Laughter’s closing track “Tell Me How”. They settle in to the most mellow conclusion of their career. The sparse instrumentation puts the emphasis on Hayley’s frank, personal lyrics. “Of all the weapons you fight with, your silence is the most violent.” It’s a contemplative way to round a record that belies an unsettled nature to Williams’s personal issues. Just as “Fake Happy” evaluates society’s tendency to put on a brave face in public, “Tell Me How” excoriates the idea that you have to have to have a situation figured out before you can write about it.

One of the many things I find most rewarding about Paramore is just how much they seem to be open-eared listeners of music, and that they trust that their fans are too. You can hear that in their praise of Talking Heads or OK Computer, or in their statement that they were trying to rip off Tame Impala when they first starting writing for After Laughter. But most importantly, you can hear it in the music, which pays great respects to the movements of pop music throughout the past few years towards rhythmic percussion, Caribbean/tropical beats, and bombastic, 80s guitar sounds, while still synthesizing in so many of the things that make Paramore who they are.

You can hear echoes of Paramore’s past here in the ever present characteristics of its three members. Hayley’s savant-like ear for melody and bridge-writing talents, Taylor York’s delicate acoustic guitar playing, Zac Farro’s frenetic drumming style. But more importantly, it’s a record rooted in the present. Most remarkably, it’s a record where a cheerleader chant as audacious as “Low Key! No Pressure! Just hang with me and my weather!” can stand alongside a string quartet and a xylophone hook on the same side of one record, with none of the three feeling out of place. It’s just a seamless amalgam of everything there is to love about and in pop music.

I’m sure Paramore is aware that there will always be people clamoring for Riot Pt. 2, and whereas on albums past they might have been more inclined to give it to them, at least for a song or two (See “Part II” from the self-titled), there seems a willful desire to move past that sort of, excuse the reference, rose-colored hindsight. If you forget everything you thought you knew about Paramore and go in with fresh ears, you will be treated with one of the very best pop records of the moment and one of the most impactful listens in recent memory. So put on your best pair of headphones, or take this in your car and drive around, and, to paraphrase the words of “Pool,” dive right back in.

Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one.

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[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

Taste test: Burger robot startup Creator opens first restaurant

Creator’s translucent burger robot doesn’t grind your brisket and chow steak into a gourmet patty until you degree it. That’s just one room this startup, previously known as Momentum Machines, wants to serve the world’s freshest cheeseburger for only $6. On June 27 th, after eight years in development, Creator unveils its first robot eatery before opening to the public in September. We got a sneak peek…err…taste. When I question how a startup launching one eatery at a time could become a $10 billion companionship, Creator co-founder and CEO Alex Vardakostas looks me dead in the eye and announces,” the market is much bigger than that .” Here’s how Creator’s burger-cooking bot works at its 680 Folsom Street location in San Francisco. Formerly you line-up your burger vogue through a human concierge on a tablet, a compressed air tube pushes a baked-that-day bun into an elevator on the right. It’s sighted in half by a vibrating bayonet before being toasted and buttered as it’s lowered to conveyor belt. Sauces measured by the milliliter and spices by the gram are automatically squirted onto the bun. Entire soups, tomatoes, onions and blockages of neat cheese get wedges scraped off a few seconds before they’re quitted on top. Meanwhile, the robot grinds hormone-free, pasture-raised brisket and chow steak to guild. But rather than mince them all up, the ropes of meat hang vertically and are thinly pulped together. They words a loose but auto-griddleable patty that’s then plopped onto the bun before the whole pack slithers out of the machine after a total time of about five minutes. The mind is that when you bite into the burger, your teeth align with the vertical strands so instead of necessary harsh chewing it roughly defrosts in your mouth. If you want to be the first to try it, Creator is selling early access tickets at 10 am Pacific today. Otherwise it will be open for lunch Wednesdays and Thursdays until the public launch. Eventually, an app will let beings customize the exact fractions of all the ingredients, opening near infinite permutations. For now, the startup’s initial pre-set burger options include the classic-style Creator vs. The World with a mole Thousand Island special sauce, the oyster aioli Tumami Burger designed by Chef Tu of Top Chef, The Smoky with charred onion jam and the sunflower seed tahini Dad Burger from Chef Nick Balla of Bar Tartine. The taste of each is pretty remarkable. The spice pops out of all the fresh-cut and ground parts that shortcoming the preservatives of pre-sliced substance. The patties hold together as you munch despite being unusually tender. And subsequentlies I appeared less of the greasy, gut-bomb, food coma vibe that typically accompanies scarfing down a cheeseburger. ” This is the kind of burger you would get for $12 to $18[ at an upscale restaurant ], and it’s$ 6 ,” says Vardakostas. It might not be best available burger I’ve had in my life, but it’s certainly the best at that premium. A mint of that comes from the savings on labour and kitchen seat is guaranteed by a robot cook.” We expend more on our parts than any other burger restaurant .” The CEO wouldn’t uncover how much Creator has raised, but says it’s backed by Google’s GV, frequent food startup investor Khosla Ventures and hardware-focused Root Ventures. However, SEC filings attained by TechCrunch register the startup raised at least $18.3 million in 2017, and sought $ 6 million more back in 2013. It’s understandable why.” McDonald’s is a $ 140 billion busines. It’s bigger than GM and Tesla compounded. McDonald’s has 40,000 restaurants. Food is one to the top three biggest sells ,” Vardakostas clangs off.” But we “ve got a lot” of advantages. The average diner is 50 percentage large in terms of square footage .” Then he motions to his big robot that’s a lot smaller than the backside of most fast-food restaurants, and with a smile replies,” That’s our kitchen. You wheel it in and push it in .” From snapping patties to investigating physics Creator co-founder and CEO Alex Vardakostas What you miss in a benefactor is a superhero origin narrative. Some formative moment in “peoples lives” that impels them hellbent on solving a problem. Vardakostas has a somewhat convincing anecdote.” My mothers have a burger joint ,” he reveals.” My job was to originate several hundred of the same burger every day. You recognise there’s so much opening not taken because you don’t have the right tools, and it’s hard work .” Robots and engineering weren’t even on his radar grown up in the restaurant in southern California. Then,” when I was 15 my pa took me to a journal storage for the first time. I started reading about physics and realizing that this could be a alternative .” He went on to study physics at UC Santa Barbara, got to work in the garage, and finally drove up to Silicon Valley to machine the first robot prototype’s parts at the famous Silicon Valley TechShop. That’s when he met his co-founder and COO Steve Frehn.” Steve told me he was from Stanford and I was super terrified ,” Vardakostas remembers. But the two had a great working rapport, and a forte for recruiting budding mechanical designers from the college. Momentum Machine started in 2009, was a full-time garage campaign by 2010, incorporated and attached Lemnos Labs in 2012 and the startup began to reach serious advancement by 2014. In the meantime, other inventors have tried to find a business in nutrient robots. There was the now-defunct Y Combinator startup Bistrobot that arbitrarily spurted liquid peanut butter and Nutella on white bread and called it a sandwich. More lately, Miso Robotics’ burger-flipping weapon named Flippy realized headlines, even though all it does is thrown and cook patties on a traditional griddle.” We have an arm that plucks out the burgers, but that’s probably five per cent of the intricacy” of the full Creator robot run by 350 sensors, 50 actuators and 20 computers, Vardakostas scoffs. Breaking burger behavior The CEO’s past in the kitchen restrains Creator into contact with the human element. He tells me he pictures the relevant recommendations of a staff-less restaurant whatever it is you fiat on a computer sounds “dystopian.” In point, he wants to give his food service employees access to new vocations. Vardakostas reads with a rustle that” parties look at restaurant use as a kindnes occasion, but mortal, we just need a chance .” Citing to the old-fashioned Google policy of giving hires try out side projects, he explains how” Tech business get 10 percentage age but no one does that for restaurant craftsmen .” ” Something we got really excited about in 2012 and we’re just starting to execute on is reinventing the job of working in a store like this, where the machine it taking care of the unclean and dangerous work ,” his co-founder Frehn clarifies.” We’re playing around with education programs for the staff. Five percent of the cases they’re paid just to read. We’re already doing that. There’s a diary plan. We’re $16 an hour. As opportunities come up to fix the machine, there’s a course we’re going to offer people as amend or upkeep parties to get paid even more .” One tradition Creator couldn’t escape was French fries. Vardakostas says they’re basically the least health happen you can eat , noting they’re” worse than donuts because there’s more surface area exposed to the frier .” But cooks told him some people plainly wouldn’t devour a burger without them. Creator’s compromise is that burgers are paired with hearty miniature farro or seasonal veggie salads by default, but you are able to opt for a line-up of frites. Creator’s fate won’t really be determined by the burger robot and the people who work alongside it. The startup will have to prove to fast food diners that it can be just as quick and cheap but a lot tastier, and that they’re welcome amongst the restaurant’s bougie Pottery Barn decor. At the same period, it was necessary to convince most affluent eaters that a cafeteria-style ordering counter and low price don’t mean low quality. Oh, and the figure is a bit rich for a burger spot. For now, Creator won’t be licensing out its bot or franchising its eatery, though those could be advantageous.” I don’t want person putting frozen beef in there or blaming acces more ,” remarks Vardakostas. Instead, the goal is to methodically expand, and maybe take advantage of its petite footprint to be involved in airport terminals or bus depots.” We want to get out of San Francisco ,” Frehn confidently settles.” Our business pose is pretty simple. We take a really good burger that people like and sell it for half the expenditure .” Read more: https :// techcrunch.com/ 2018/06/ 21/ creator-hamburger-robot / http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/07/19/taste-test-burger-robot-startup-creator-opens-first-restaurant/

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 116

About three weeks after the ‘rabbit conversation’ with Charly and Coffey, I was whistling to myself and finishing up the pasta for dinner that night. It wasn’t a family dinner tonight, so cacio e pepe seemed like a good fit - it was one of the dishes that I hadn’t quite mastered Before, and spent entirely too much time on the Ark getting it right not to enjoy it every chance I got.

And besides, who didn’t like fancy macaroni and cheese?

I had just handed Maverick the pasta, and was turning to grab the garlic bread, when the door opened.  I turned to face it with a grin, but nearly screamed at what I saw.  Dropping the bread on the floor without a second thought, I was right behind Maverick in racing towards Conor.

“What the hell happened!?” I asked, heart racing in panic.

Conor tried to throw me a grin through a busted lip, regretting it immediately. Swearing softly, he brought his fingers to his mouth, coming away with blood.  It didn’t go unnoticed that his other arm hung limply by his side. “Swear I’m okay, you two,” he laughed lightly.

“This,” Maverick nearly shouted, pointing up and down our partner’s black and blue body, “is the exact opposite of okay.”

“As mad as it sounds, I’ve never felt bet - ow…” he contradicted himself as he tried to take his boots off.

Dinner immediately forgotten, we ushered him in and helped get him cleaned up and changed out his bloody coveralls and t-shirt. While I knelt on the floor, bandaging every wound I could find, he tried to argue that he was okay before surrendering with a frustrated sigh. “So, how did you end up with bruises literally from head to toe,” I demanded.

“I was sparring,” he admitted with an embarrassed tone.

“Sparring or picking fights?” Maverick growled dangerously.  Things had been tense around Conor’s temper ever since the night he almost threw a bowl, but we had been going to therapy together, and I thought things were getting better.  Apparently, Maverick had his doubts.

“Sparring, I swear,” was the wide-eyed answer. “You know I’ve been talking to my therapist about a more effective outlet for my frustration, yeah?”  When we both nodded slowly, he nodded along. “Well, we agreed that sparring was a good outlet.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because then you would have wanted to spar with me, and the doc said that’s the worst idea to be thought of.  I’m not even allowed to spar with Tyche or Antoine.”

“Apparently you found someone….” I waved at the multicolored splotches that were growing even as we spoke.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm, glancing down at his other hand and flexing his fingers gently. “About that… I went to the gym, looking to spar with anyone really. And Bjornson was already there…”

“Please tell me you did not pick a fight with him,” Maverick groaned, sliding down the couch and covering his face. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Conor shook his head vigorously. “I swear I didn’t pick a fight with anyone! Have some faith?” When Maverick peeked through his fingers and made a go on gesture, Conor took a deep breath and continued. “Bjornson was already sparring with someone - Your friend, Farro.”

Oh gods above and below tell me you didn’t….

“Well, I wanted to spar, Arthur knows how to spar bigger guys, and I know he doesn’t hate me… So I told him I was in a bad mood and needed to get some frustration out.”

I pressed my lips tightly before blowing my breath out with a soft pop. “How did that go for you?”

“I had no idea my shoulder bent that way,” he gestured at the still-largely-useless arm. “Apparently my shoulder didn’t know it bent that way, either.”

“Awfully nice of him to put it back for you,” Maverick squinted, skeptical.

“Jokul might have been the one to do that.” Shaking his head, he laughed. “He wasn’t terribly gentle about it either.”

My stomach dropped. “Conor, did you tell them why you needed to spar?”

“I don’t - think? I did?” He bit his lip and frowned. “I just said I didn’t want to bring all my frustration home to you two, and that I didn’t want to have to hold back, so I didn’t expect them to… fair’s fair and all…”

“So…” I ventured slowly. “You thought, in your infinite wisdom, that the first time you sparred to get rid of your frustration, you were going to walk up to the two retired warlords and tell them to give you all they’ve got? That’s an even worse idea than picking a fight with Jokul, you know that right? Like, Charly-was-banned-from-selling-tickets-to-their-exhibition-match worse, right?”

“At exactly no point did I imply that I was thinking clearly,” he held up his good hand in defense. “I just figured my chances of actually hurting them were pretty much close enough to zero not to matter.”

I had to - begrudgingly - admit he had a point: at least he decided to pick two people he pretty much had no chance of hurting unless he was actually trying to kill one of them. “Did you even manage to land a hit on either of them?” I sighed, patting his knee.

“I got a couple good hits on Jokul,” he perked up slightly.

“And Arthur?” Maverick asked skeptically.

“That fucker is fast,” he grumbled sullenly.

Maverick laughed at that. “Maybe next time, set your sights slightly lower. Like… I don’t know, Charly?”

“Are you insane!?” Conor and I shouted in unison.

“What?” To his credit, he looked genuinely baffled.

“Maverick,” Conor enunciated carefully. “Love, I know she’s cuter than a kitten and twice as mischievous, but that girl has a demonic streak when she fights. Even Jokul is afraid of her, and Arthur is only ninety percent certain he could take her.  I’d give GK good odds, though.”

“Oh, you can’t listen to Jokul,” I sputtered. “He’s terrified of her.”

“You aren’t helping your case, you realize?”

“Besides,” I continued, ignoring him. “To Conor’s point, at least he doesn’t have to worry he might hurt Arthur or Jokul.”

It was Maverick’s turn to sputter as he gestured emphatically to the ever-purpling lump of our boyfriend. “What about Conor getting hurt? You see this, right? I mean, I know you’re colorblind, but you see bruises just fine....”

“Conor, do you at least feel better than you did before… all this?” I asked, trying to rein in the urge to wince at the swollen eye and lip.

“Believe it or not, I do,” he admitted, tentatively flexing his bad shoulder. “A good ol’fashioned scrap.”

I shook my head and arched an eyebrow at Maverick, resisting the urge to mutter “Men”. “Just… can you please stop at a medbay before you come home from now on?  Having you walk in here beaten half to death… It’s not fun.”

“I’m not beaten half to death,” he pouted, immediately belying his words by wincing after he tried to stick his bottom lip out. “Maybe a quarter…” he muttered.

“Medbay?” I prompted.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he conceded.

Maverick patted his leg cheekily. “Good. Since dinner is ruined, you can go now while we make something fresh.”

“Now?” Conor whined. “I’m not dressed,” he tried to plead, gesturing at his bare torso.

“And as much as I normally appreciate the view, exactly no one on the Ark will actually care.” I gently pulled him to his feet, while Maverick was gracious enough to go get him a clean shirt. Once he was somewhat dressed, I shooed him toward the door. “Medbay. Now. Don’t come home until you aren’t bleeding anymore - externally or internally.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Maverick turned to me with a decidedly wicked look in his eye. “I have a sudden craving for calamari with tomato sauce.”

I glanced at him slyly. “You know Conor hates squid.”

“Hmm. I hate having our boyfriend scare the hell out of us.”

“Calamari it is.”

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[junker-town]

Which NBA player will score 60 points next? Here’s who you guessed.

Only eight players have scored 60 points since the 2000-01 season. It’s really hard! Here are the players we think have a chance.

Since the 2000-01 season, only eight players have scored 60 points or more in a game, and 13 total instances. Most recently it was Devin Booker, who scored 70 points last year. The rest of the list: Tracy McGrady, Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant six times, Gilbert Arenas, LeBron James, Carmelo Anthony, and Klay Thompson.

We’ve seen random role players like Terrance Ross, Corey Brewer and Andre Miller pop off for 50-point games. That’s a beloved happenstance, when players we never would have expected break an elite scoring plateau. But players like that don’t score 60. Scoring 60 is hard. You saw the list in the first paragraph: you’re either a Hall of Fame lock or pure scorer prone to heating up in extreme ways. (Miss you, Agent Zero.)

Who will be the next player to score 60? I love hypotheticals like this, because it can so easily blend fan bias and actual expectations as we examine the players who best fit the 60-point mold. We posed the question on our Twitter.

Only 8 players have scored 60+ points since 2000. With that in mind, who will be the next player to drop 60? Go.

— SB Nation NBA (@SBNationNBA) December 8, 2017

Here were your answers.

Kyrie Irving

http://pic.twitter.com/4mxYS8r1sF

— Matt Eldridge (@meazy12) December 8, 2017

kyrie

— james farro (@jamesfarro1) December 8, 2017

Kyrie will do it this year. https://t.co/97T7F1dMRf

— James (@JamesLUFC) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I believe this is the most likely option of them all. The Boston Celtics are a great team, but they’re great because of their defense. Offensively, Kyrie Irving still runs a one-man show. He has fantastic complementary pieces around him, and Al Horford can create some shots if you need him to, but it’s mostly Irving.

One of these games, Irving will start hot and just keep on shooting. The opponent will stay home on Boston’s shooters, and it’ll give Irving easy driving lanes to the rim. He’ll heat up from behind the arc in the second half, and before you know it, he’ll have 60. Irving has prior games of 55 and 57, so this seems reasonable. — Tim Cato

James Harden

Harden

— Walter Hopkins (@WalterJHopkins) December 8, 2017

James Harden. Also with a triple double. https://t.co/Ejj54XzT6f

— Victor Roque (@vicalmadroq) December 8, 2017

james harden

— local me (@olanderic) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Harden scored 56 points in one of the most impossibly efficient games I’ve ever seen earlier this year. Harden is naturally efficient — he only took 25 shots that game. If he had taken 30, he would have had 60-plus points. One of these days, he’s bound to shoot a little more often, with the same efficiency, and break the 60-point plateau when it seems like he’s hardly even trying. I have Irving’s chances slightly above his, but Harden’s not far off. — Tim Cato

Kemba Walker

Sleeper pick: Kemba Walker https://t.co/Yh9LkIDhzV

— Mike Prada (@MikePradaSBN) December 8, 2017

Kemba Walker

— courtney kennedy (@KennedyCourtney) December 8, 2017

KEMBA. https://t.co/g7duC37fHM

— At The Hive (@At_The_Hive) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: As Prada notes, this is an excellent sleeper pick. Walker’s career high is 52 points, but his increasingly good three-point shot gives him a chance to heat up, inferno level, one game. It also helps that Charlotte relies on him so heavily, and that the Hornets rarely blow opponents out, so Walker will have plenty of chances. — Tim Cato

Damian Lillard

@Dame_Lillard https://t.co/KrxIj0zKda

— Chad Butler (@butlerchad) December 9, 2017

dame https://t.co/yGhr54iAF3

— Ashwin Harimohan (@ash_win10) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: If Gilbert Arenas can get 60 points, so can Lillard. Someone photoshop their heads onto that Spiderman meme, where the two Spidermans are pointing at each other. (OK, they’re not the exact same player, but you see some similarities, right?) — Tim Cato

DeMarcus Cousins

Boogieeee https://t.co/2mlP1gJnmX

— Josh Gaines (@_JAGaines) December 9, 2017

Boogie

— SactownBabyGiraffe (@TimMaxwell22) December 8, 2017

Boogie tonight on his former team #kings https://t.co/TQTPEvZlIl

— Matt VanNatta (@mattv5) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: It did not happen against his former team, despite Matt’s best guess. Cousins did have 38 points in that game, however. In an increasingly small league, Cousins is the exception. He could find a certain matchup where he bullies his way for a dozen cheap points off put backs, while hitting six threes or so. He’s be two-thirds of the way there already — just get him 20 more points somewhere else.

It might need to happen in a game where Anthony Davis is out, or another team where Cousins is once again the lead scorer. Still, it’s certainly plausible. — Tim Cato

Joel Embiid

Joel Embiid will have a 60 point game this season.

— Justin Gardner (@StatTheProcess) December 8, 2017

Embiid https://t.co/NR7UfYD3IO

— iciiik™ (@His33k) December 8, 2017

Embiid

— jolly em ️iist ⛄️ (@joel_embiist) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I like this answer, even if Cousins has a slightly better chance of scoring 60 before Embiid does. But the way Embiid would be like his preseason debut this year, when he scored 22 points in 15 minutes. In that game against Brooklyn, Embiid was simply much large than any defender that the Nets had. He went to the line 18 times, and once those fouls start adding up and backups are having to test Embiid, things could get real ugly.

I think the rest of Embiid’s game is still a few years off from putting together this many points in a single outing, but you never know. — Tim Cato

Devin Booker

D Booker https://t.co/IEFJRWA6au

— Nate Phelps (@ThePhelpsy_) December 9, 2017

Devin Booker https://t.co/nSy73R4Nb1

— Bruno Fernando Enthusiast (@ATVS_JakeNazar) December 8, 2017

Maybe Booker or at some point Mitchell from the jazz

— Brian Knutson (@briank24708) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: By now, you’ve probably figured out this list started in order but now is just a free-for-all. Booker would be quite a bit higher if we were actually trying to rank these in order. He has done it once, and he’s on a team that has nothing to lose. One hot half, with 30 points or so, and Phoenix will spend the final 24 minutes trying to get him the record. Why not? — Tim Cato

Klay Thompson

Klay.

— BOBSLED (@ThatRobertPiece) December 9, 2017

Klay

— Catey (@cateyxdubs) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Thompson is another already-done-it on this list. He scored his first 60-pointer while holding the ball for just 90 seconds, which almost seems like an impossible stat but is very real. Basically, Thompson is always a threat to explode, and nothing special even needs to happen. He just needs a few open shots and it’s all over. — Tim Cato

Kevin Durant

Durant

— AM (@everlastingitch) December 8, 2017

Durant https://t.co/WiSzqSNklK

— Chris Bernucca (@ChrisBernucca) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Like Curry below, Durant’s career-high is just 54 and his chances are now limited by the Warriors’ excellence. They blow out too many teams, and have too many mouths to feed, to make a singular scoring explosion this large that likely. — Tim Cato

Stephen Curry

Curry https://t.co/Fah4AIKRNr

— S.Zagury (@Sammzag) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Curry is probably going to go down as the greatest shooter of all time. That fact alone makes a fairly strong case for the Warriors’ superstar point guard. Though he hasn’t had a 50 point game since February of 2016, he’s had so many flurries stopped short because the Warriors are so dominant. It’s going to take a close game against a dominant scoring team like, say, the Rockets to get it done. And I can see it coming this season. — Michael Sykes

Bradley Beal

Oladipo or Bradley Beal

— Ben Sternberg (@BenShachen) December 9, 2017

Bradley Beal https://t.co/5ZZGokST1I

— Grunfeld (@falckovitch93) December 8, 2017

Bradley Beal https://t.co/QwTj1H2Mrf

— Michael Sykes, II (@MikeDSykes) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Over the last season and change, Bradley Beal has become one of the NBA’s elite scorers. He’s had six 40 point games over that span including his 51 point outburst against the Trail Blazers this season.

When things get tough for the Wizards, they know they can rely on Beal as a scorer. It’ll take a close game and, maybe, a shot attempt total hitting the mid-to-high 30s, but he can get the job done. — Michael Sykes

Donovan Mitchell

Donovan Mitchell

— Mimz (@the_1st_mimzee) December 8, 2017

The amazing @spidadmitchell

— Matt Davis (@MattNotHipster) December 8, 2017

My easy guess is James Harden, My out there guess is Donavan Mitchell

— NBA Hoops Online (@NBABoards) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I don’t know. I know Mitchell scored 41 points the other night, but 60 is a lot more than 41. This seems a bit premature, but I still got as many answers for Mitchell as any other player. — Tim Cato

Victor Oladipo

Oladipo or Bradley Beal

— Ben Sternberg (@BenShachen) December 9, 2017

How it would happen: Victor Oladipo has been unleashed in Indiana. He also just spent a year with Russell Westbrook so he has an idea of how to take over a game himself. He’ll get hot from behind the arc and then the Pacers are such an unselfish team they’ll just feed him all night. — Whitney Medworth

Kristaps Porzingis

Kristaps porzingis

— Mypark Playa (@wweecwwcwtnanba) December 8, 2017

Porzingis

— Igor (@_lgor) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: On this year’s Knicks team, Porzingis could easily take 35 shots in a random game. That’s doable. — Tim Cato

Lance Stephenson!

@StephensonLance https://t.co/dwTlkT4kOP

— Cable (@zach_cable23) December 9, 2017

How it would happen: Whitney

Picture a late regular season game in April. Playoff standings are already set for both teams, so nothing is at stake. Lance Stephenson plays 48 minutes, never passes the ball once, scores 60 points. — Whitney Medworth

Giannis Antetokounmpo

Giannis

— Greg Nog (@gwiss) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I’m surprised only one person answered it Antetokounmpo. I know his lack of three-point shooting makes it more difficult, but Antetokounmpo is also big enough to go to the line 25 times under the right circumstances.

Kobe Bryant

kobe

— Tim Cato (@tim_cato) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: The most Kobe Bryant thing ever would be to come back for one game, score 60 points, and then retire again. You hadn’t thought of it, but man, now you’re convinced it’s going to happen. I’m certainly convinced it’s going to happen.

The only correct answer

Dirk in his final game. No doubt.

— Phillip McDaniel (@philp_mcd) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: There are many good answers here. This is the only correct one. Thank you, Phillip, and please come to the front to collect your prize.

[lindaeckhardt]

New Post has been published on Everybody Eats News

New Post has been published on https://everybodyeatsnews.com/2017/09/bobs-red-mill-takes-giant-step-backwards-ancient-grains-like-farro/

Bob's Red Mill Takes a Giant Step Backwards to Ancient Grains - like Farro

Bob’s Red Mill is a familiar brand to those seeking ancient grains, organic foods, or other pure and natural dried products. Sold coast-to-coast in grocery stores, this brand can solve the eternal question – but where I can I find THAT?

I’d been buying this for about a hundred years before I dug down to find out what the story was. When I lived in Oregon, this brand was as well known as Quaker Oats, and a whole lot purer.

But by the time I’d moved to the greater New York area, Bob’s had grown so that it was as easily found in New Jersey supermarkets as it had been in Oregon. But who was this Bob who founded this brand? I began to poke around on the internet for an answer.

Not that I was the first journalist to come knocking. In 2011, a writer named Suzanne Snider wrote a long, extensive piece about Bob Moore, of the red mill’s fame. The mill is still located in suburban Portland, Oregon.

Seems like your classic American-dream story. Moore started out in Los Angeles after world war 2 with a gas station. Then his wife couldn’t stand the smog, so they moved to Mammoth lake.

But eventually even that air was too polluted to breathe, so they moved to pure-air Oregon. Now all this time, while Bob had been tinkering with various jobs, his wife had stayed home and baked. She loved whole grains and learned they made her feel better. Sort of the same story you hear today from those who find gluten-free products. But in those days, to get that sort of thing, you had to grind the grains yourself.

So the Moores poked around and found an ancient stone ground operation in North Carolina, but decided it was more reasonable to have the whole apparatus shipped to them than to move again.

And there in hangs the tale. Oregon was a leader in whole grain adoption back in the day, and the Moores got their outfit up and running.His products sold to hippies (like me), and pure food fanatics, and now to celiac and gluten free folks.

Bob Moore only buys whole grains from certified organic growers. He’s picky. And his clientele is too.

Fast forward to the twenty first century when ancient grains find their way into recipes for Italian and other old-world cuisines and the Moore’s business booms.

Bob Moore did another great thing. He sold the company to his employees so today, with an ever-growing list of organic and other pure grains and dry mixes, Bob’s Red Mill is a brand as robust as ever and clients as devoted as they ever were.

Check out their website, you’ll surely find some products you’d like to try. http://www.bobsredmill.com. Bob’s Red Mill is a brand produced by employee-owned American company: Bob’s Red Mill Natural Foods of Milwaukie, Oregon, United States. The company was established in 1978 by Bob and Charlee Moore. Headquarters: Milwaukie, Oregon. Founded: 1978. Employees: 209.

My newest find is an ancient Italian soup recipe that calls for cauliflower and farro, once as hard to find as hen’s teeth but now available everywhere Bob’s Red Mill is sold. Yes.

Warm and Spicy Cauliflower Farro Soup

You may find this hard to believe, but Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Try this silky bright soup as a first course. It does just what an appetizer is meant to do. It sets your palate up for the feast to come. You may want to give it a whirl a time or two before the holiday. It’s become a standard in my house. It’s easy to prepare, rich and fulfilling and once I figured out to use the stick blender to turn it into this silky puree, I was off and running.

Farro has served as a tasty and satisfying grain since Roman times. You will quickly understand how the Romans ran the world once you try this soup. It is even better the second day. Farro is sold in grocery stores featuring Italian specialties. Bob’s Red Mill is the go-to brand.

Makes 10-12 servings 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil 1 EACH: large red onion and carrot, peeled and chopped 1 teaspoon EACH: crushed coriander seeds, cumin seeds, smoked paprika, sugar, and Worcestershire sauce 1/4 teaspoon EACH: turmeric and red chili flakes Sea salt and freshly milled black pepper to taste 10-12 sprigs fresh cilantro, chopped (divided. Reserve some for garnish) 1 head cauliflower, coarsely chopped 4 cups chicken broth 2 cups water (or more to taste) 1-2 cups farro, cooked Sour cream garnish ~ Warm olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot and spices and cook until softened stirring often. Add the cilantro, cauliflower, broth and water. Bring soup to a boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook until the cauliflower is tender, about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, cook farro following box directions. Stir in the farro, puree with a stick blender and serve warm. Top with a dollop of sour cream and chopped cilantro.

[wellpersonsblog]

How To Find Your Food Prep Focus Area

Learn how to find your food prep focus area. Are you ready to try meal prep but feel overwhelmed? Use these tips to figure out how to focus your first few food prep sessions.

Hi Friends!

By now you guys probably know that I’m a food prep fanatic. I love sharing my weekly prep sessions with you guys but I get a lot of questions from people who have heard about food prep and want to try it, but feel very overwhelmed and aren’t sure where to start.

That’s what today’s post is all about. I want to teach you guys how to really zone in and get ready for a successful food prep session as a beginner.

Let me preface this by saying that I never prep every single thing we’re going to eat for the entire week. I don’t think it’s necessary. I also don’t always use this “focus area” method anymore. I’ve had a lot of practice and it’s not hard for me to prep a wide variety of stuff in a short amount of time. I do keep a few things in mind though: I prefer small meals + snacks vs big meals. I have a toddler that often needs to eat ASAP to avoid a meltdown. There are weeks when we’re at the gym until 7pm multiple nights. So, depending on our schedule, some weeks I focus more on dinner than others and most weeks I always make breakfasts and snacks a priority.

Want to try food prep but feel overwhelmed? Learn how to find your focus area to make it easier!Click To Tweet

{A dinner-focused food prep of mine where I made a Maple Mustard Chicken Skillet, Chicken and Black Bean Enchiladas, Guacamole, Roasted Squash with yogurt and BBQ Pork Stuffed Sweet Potatoes to reheat for dinners and Sweet Potato Bites, Hummus Topping & Carrots to snack on while getting dinner ready or to pack for snacking if we weren’t getting home until late to eat dinner.}

So here’s my challenge for you:

For the next few days, grab a notebook or your phone and make a note every time you find yourself eating something but wishing you had another option.

For example:

You find yourself eating a bag of chips from the vending machine for a snack but you wish you had a protein bar, a hardboiled egg or some trail mix on hand.

You’re eating dinner but don’t have any vegetables on your plate and wish you had a side salad.

You need dinner in 20 minutes so you swing through the drive thru but wish you were eating at home.

You eat a protein bar for breakfast but really wish you had a warm egg breakfast.

You go out to lunch because you couldn’t find anything to pack the night before but you wish you had a healthy chicken wrap, some fruit, etc.

After a few days, go back and review the list.

Whatever meal/time of day has the most mentions is probably your biggest problem area and the one that you should choose to focus on in your first few food prep sessions.

Some common focus areas that I’ve helped people hone in on in the past include:

Produce

Meat

Breakfast

Snacks

Packable Lunches

Dinner

{A snack-focused prep of mine where I made Sweet Potato Brownies, Hummus Topping, Oatmeal, Egg Wraps, Carrots, Sweet Potato Protein Cookies & GF Pumpkin Yogurt Bars.}

Once you’ve found your focus area, make a plan for your food prep session that revolves just around that one area. The goal is to help you feel lazer-focused while prepping and not overwhelmed…and get enough prepped so that you notice how helpful it is during the week and are motivated to try again the next weekend.  Here are a couple hypothetical situations.

Situation #1

If you’ve realized that you really struggle with healthy snacks. You’re either making multiple trips to the vending machine each week, grabbing candy from the dish to snack on, or going hungry until dinner and then over-eating. So, make snacks your food prep focus area and do some research to find a few snack recipes to try. For example, you could plan to set aside an hour to do the following:

Hard boil a dozen eggs.

Peel and chop some carrots to eat with hummus.

Make a batch of trail mix.

Make a batch of sweet potato bites.

Make a batch of lemon energy balls.

When it comes time to food prep, turn the oven on. Start the eggs on the stove. Make the batter for the sweet potato bites. Peel and chop the carrots. Stick the bites in the oven. While they’re cooking mix up your trail mix and portion it into baggies and make a batch of lemon energy balls in the food processor.

That’s it! It’s your first food prep session so don’t overwhelm yourself by trying to do too much! For the upcoming week, you’ll now have a variety of snacks to choose from when you get hungry late morning or mid-afternoon. Take note of how you feel throughout the week having them on hand! It should inspire you to make time for food prep again next weekend!

{A lunch-focused food prep session of mine where I made beans, carrots and hummus topping, lemon energy balls, popcorn snack mix, lettuce, shrimp with farro, marinated turkey tenderloins and green smoothie snack bars. I cooked the turkey tenderloin early in the week and ate it over lettuce for salads, mixed the shrimp and farro with the hummus topping, ate slices of turkey tenderloin paired with beans and a snack bar or a couple energy balls, etc.}

Situation #2

You’re pretty good about eating breakfast and packing snacks. You have a few work engagements that require dinner out during the week so you really want to make sure you have healthy lunch options available. You could set aside an hour to prep the following:

A batch of Instant Pot Hummus Chicken

Some Chicken Avocado Burgers

A few salad in a jars

Some Pesto Corn Salad

When you’re ready to prep, turn the oven on. Start a batch of hummus chicken. Prep the burgers. Stick them in the oven. While they’re baking, prep a few salads and make the pesto corn salad. Shred the chicken once it’s finished cooking.

Now you have several quick lunch options to pack at night including a wrap made with the hummus chicken, a burger with a side salad and some corn, a salad in a jar.

If you find that it didn’t take you a full hour or you have extra time the next weekend, you can prep stuff for lunches and then move on to adding a dinner or a breakfast option like waffles as a way to change things up in the morning. Also note that if you don’t have an instant pot you can make pulled chicken or pork in the crockpot or oven. It takes longer but doesn’t require any extra active work on your part.

So there you have it! I hope some of you guys give this a try! Let me know if focusing in on one specific area to start is helpful for you! Look for a post next week with more details about how to plan your first food prep session once you’ve identified your focus area!

If you want more help right away, be sure to check out my Ultimate Guide To Food Prep ebook or check out my resources page for more food prep related posts!

Enjoy! –Lindsay–

The post How To Find Your Food Prep Focus Area appeared first on The Lean Green Bean.

First found here: How To Find Your Food Prep Focus Area

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 108

And we are somewhat caught up!  My queue has run out at least, and I’m astoundingly glad it has, because now I get to thank a bunch of people who have just detonated my inbox with love, and kept me going.

Before I get into the gratitude: If, at any point, a comment a character makes does not make sense, please let me know. Send an ask, even on anon, because I am well aware that everything in my brain does not get a chance to make it in the story (example: Charly’s triangle comment here, and the fact that Noah’s dialogue in the beginning has an actual translation…)

First, shoutouts to @charlylimph-blog​, @baelpenrose​, and @quantumizedinsanity​ for the characters in this chapter and for being very, VERY dear friends to me.  A global pandemic and nationwide protests, along with a job change and a major move, have done nothing to hurt friendships that are already cross-country from each other.

Annnnd to everyone who has been blowing up my notes with likes and reblogs: @dierotenixe(hang in there! i PROMISE!), @iamverypotato​,@itscryptifssil, @steadynightninja​, @thepalemarcher, @feral-possums-in-the-bog​, @26fancyraptors​(MISSED YOU!), @werewolf2578​ (we don’t talk enough, how are you!?), @experimentalspades​, @odd-dream-worlds​, @duchess-katala03​, @pineapplewitchboi​, @dark-choclat-cupcake, @littleshydragon​, and all the others. 

I held my breath, bracing for what I knew was coming. Nothing came after several minutes, to my surprise.  I slowly lifted my head and opened my eyes, focusing on drawing deep, even breaths. Maybe he got bored and wandered off.  Maybe he had mercy on me….

Yeah. And maybe Grey is making genetically modified fish that fly.

Slowly, carefully, I grabbed my fork and lifted a bite of pie to my mouth.  A glance at Charly showed a serious expression, nothing given away. Damnit. I knew she could see Arthur behind me, I was hoping for a telltale giggle, or a warning glance, something.  Right when a traitorous voice of reason spoke up belatedly to point out that Charly was never serious…

“You really will adopt anyone, won’t you?” Arthur asked as he came around to take the chair Jokul had just vacated.

Fuuuuuck…. Busted. “I didn’t adopt him!” I tried to argue. “I actually made a very concerted effort to avoid that!”

Unceremoniously, he snagged Charly’s pot pie, only to have his hand held at fork-point until he let go.  Without even acknowledging the lunch-standoff, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You tried to ‘avoid’ it by foisting him off on Zach Khan, your… nephew, thing, and his girlfriend. Still adoption-adjacent.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to interact with him.”

“Uh huh. And how will you explain to poor Hannah that dear Ivan’s partner isn’t invited to Insert Winter Holiday dinner, hmmm?”

“I hate you.”

“Lies and deceit,” he rebutted calmly. “You adopted me first. Before anyyyyone on this ship. I daresay you’re quite fond of me.”

I scowled at him, shoving my remaining lunch in his direction. “Here, before you start poaching this direction.”

An eyebrow arched in the general direction of my fish pie. “That looks suspiciously like dairy.  You wound me.” Grabbing my fork, he poked at the lumps of meat. “I would have thought you would be at least a little subtle in any assassination attempts. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Of course you taught me something,” I cooed, jokingly, while I patted his arm. “The fastest way to a man’s heart is six inches of steel through the ribs, slight upward angle.  Cyanide smells like bitter almonds, so always use shortbread cookies to administer it. Three pounds of pressure will tear off a human ear, and even a three year old can bite through fingers,” I recited. “Also, the pie is dairy-free, surprisingly. The ‘cream’ is silken tofu and aquafaba, turns out.”

Charly was choking with laughter, while Arthur finally smiled at me. “See, I told you that you love me,” he gloated before scooping up a scallop and some crust. As soon as he started chewing, his expression changed from one of amusement to something strikingly similar to Mac when I flick water in his face.

“Scallops,” I explained. “I had the same reaction.”

“Heathens,” he managed around the mouthful.  After he swallowed it, he gave the dish a considering look. “Not bad per se, but… There is no fish in this fish pie. What is aquafaba?”

“Chicpea juice.  Usually it’s used as an egg substitute.  I guess they used it for consistency here.”

Charly leaned forward, narrowly avoiding landing an elbow in her lunch. “And how can you tell that’s what’s in there?”

Glancing over at his student, Arthur shrugged. “She has a point. This,” he poked at the sauce, “looks like heavy cream.”

“Tastes kind of nutty, though,” I explained. “Anyway, enough about food. What brings you down here?”

“Galactic Core Curriculum,” he explained. “That’s the excuse anyway. Alistair - Cthulu damn his soul - told me you were eating lunch here after fifteen minutes of questioning. Tyche told me Charly was with you, so I figured lunch with you, lunch with one of my favorite students, plus I can kill two errands with one meal.” Charly stared at him like he had lost his mind, but he ignored her. “When I arrived - lo! What to my wondering eyes should appear, than a certain former cult leader harassing said friend and student! What person could resist such a temptation.” Deflating dramatically, he scowled at me. “Imagine my delight to hear you giving him relationship advice,” he intoned flatly.

“I got him to go away,” I pointed out.

“Before I managed even one strike in a highly one-sided battle of wits.“

“Mr. Farro,” Charly cut off, glaring for all she was worth. “Jokull came in peace, he leaves in peace.”

“Oh, he would have left in pieces. His ego anyway.”

“Fucking triangles, I swear,” Charly muttered, attacking her lunch with renewed violence.

“Anyway,” I forged ahead. “Jokul was here for fifteen, twenty minutes. You had your chance.”

He glanced away with a cough. “I… may have been resisting the urge to vomit.”

“Arthur.”

“Relationship advice is… not in my skillset,” he admitted. “Tell you your partner is abusive? Can spot a mile a way.  Great for getting people out of bad relationships, with concierge crowbar service if necessary. Not great for saving them.”

“Crowbar? Really?”

“You know, for prying people out of bad situations?” He genuinely looked confused, so I left that one alone.

“For what it’s worth, Jokull wanted to talk to you about what he’s going through right now,” Charly added.

“Why in any galaxy…”

I had to laugh at that one. “Everyone treats him poorly,” I shrugged before giving Arthur a pointed look. “He’s having a rough time right now, feels like he has no one to talk to except Ivan, and thought you would have some insight into that kind of thing.”

“What part of this,” he gestured to himself with a fork, “implies anything remotely close to wanting people to like me and therefore actually knowing how to accomplish that.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” I muttered. 

Giving me a hard, thoughtful look, Arthur’s entire demeanor changed. “Ah… On a more serious note, though… yeah.  I don’t get why people not liking you is a problem, but you’ve told me before it’s something that bothers you, so it’s feasible it bothers other people.  I’ll make a point not to make it worse.”

Clearing my throat, I pushed the conversation on to the next topic. “You mentioned two errands earlier. One for me, one for Charly?”

“Right.” The relief to be changing topics was palpable. “For you, Councillor, Galactic Core is almost finished. Eino is already considering other ongoing-education programs, and you’re going to need to start scouting educators again.  That late-twentieth through contemporary Terran history course? Big support-base, turns out.”

“You wouldn’t tell me this without a reason,” I pointed out. “And you’re a History teacher. Volunteering?”

“I want it done right,” he admitted. “The idea being bounced around isn’t for a requirement that everyone take the course. Not at the same time, anyway.  History-focused educators only, approved curriculum.”

“Approved?” I asked. “By whom?”

“A committee,” he shrugged. “Eino, obviously. Xiomara, with her background - which, by the way, is ridiculous - “

“We know, we know,” Charly and I groaned.

After glancing between us for a moment, Arthur continued. “And me.”

“Why you?” I asked. “No offense, just trying to understand.”

“No offense taken, I’ll explain that part later, but I promise it’s for a legitimate reason. The point is, Eino and his committee approve the curriculum and number of slots. You and Tyche make the decisions for who is allotted where.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

“Fine. The area of history I focused on for my Master’s degree has an important component that ties a lot together and makes revisionism harder - wait. What?” I could almost hear the gears squealing as they ground to a halt. “Did you just say yes?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“That was… disturbingly easy,” he gave me a skeptical look.  When all I did was grin, he slowly turned to Charly. “As for you, I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that’s due next Friday.”

“I already turned it in,” she pointed out.

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a week and a half early.”

“Right….” she nodded slowly. “And I made sure it met all the criteria on the syllabus.  Plus I had three different people proofread it.”

“All of which is admirable, and it would be considered a very well-done assignment,” he admitted. “If you didn’t have an extra week and a half left to make it even better.”

“Mr. Farro….”

“You aren’t in trouble, in any way shape or form,” he reassured her. “But I know you are capable of doing better than the assignment you already gave me.  I wanted to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Charly asked suspiciously. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”

“What? No…” he sputtered. “Illegal!?”

“Gotta be sure,” she nodded sincerely.  I was reasonably certain she was giving him a hard time, but it was still hilarious to watch.

Shaking his head, Arthur did his best to recover. “The deal is this: if you stick with the assignment you already sent me, I’ll grade it as it stands. But. If you re-do it and hand it in on the original due date, you’ll be eligible for extra credit for your extra effort.”

“But I still get the grade on the one you already have, either way?” she asked skeptically.

“I’ve already graded it, and you won’t get a worse grade if you re-do it,” he promised. 

“I’ll think about it,” she hedged carefully. “That paper was a lot of work.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “What if you sent me an audio recording, instead? No extra writing.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, sticking out her hand. After Arthur shook it, she glanced at the time. “Shit. I gotta go. Sophia, don’t be late back to work, okay? Tyche won’t care, but Alistair may stop letting me have extra marshmallows in my cocoa when I come by your office.”

After she left, I gave Arthur a very serious look.  He tried to ignore it, but after about five solid minutes of The Squint, he caved. “For the love of… She’s smart, okay? You know, I know it. The paper she handed in a week and a half early was much more insightful than anyone else in the class.  They were assigned a research paper on the underlying causes of the breakdown in relations between the Ekomari and Shalt-kri’i.  Everyone focused on political ideologies, trade resources, navigational route control.  Standard causes for war, from a Terran perspective. Do you know what Charly Harper wrote her paper about?”

“Food?” I asked, going out on a limb.

“So close! Cultural differences, plain and simple. Ekomari are vaguely mammalian, and their diet consists of native arthropods. Guess what Shalt-kri’i look like?”

“You’re kidding me…”

“Not even slightly.  And! To add insult to injury, in a very close to literal sense, Shalt-kri’i greet each other as friends by spreading their appendages, a lot like a hug.  Whereas Ekomari show aggression by… standing up on their hindmost appendages and spreading the rest to look bigger.”

“And no one caught this before?”

“Not on the Ark, no.” He spread his arms wide. “No one even considered it.  Sure, the rest are good points, and they did make everything worse, more than likely, but the start?  She nailed it.”

“Then why have her re-write the assignment?” I was honestly confused at this point.

“The way she wrote it, I could tell she wasn’t confident about the answer at all.” He looked about as frustrated as I had ever seen him. “You get her talking about engineering, or pranks, she knows she knows what she is talking about. I want her to know that she is just as right about this as she was about that.”

Hard to believe that this was the same man whose office I had marched into, out for a pound of flesh and the blood besides, because the same woman we were discussing left his class in tears and begged me not to make her go back.  However…

“Honestly?” I ventured. “I want to hear this recording when she hands it in. I’m really curious about this.”

“You think she’ll write it?”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “I know she will. You gave her a challenge where she can’t lose, but stands a lot to gain. I just hope you’re ready for that sound file.”

“I honestly can’t wait,” he smirked.

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 106

I know I’ve been on a fluff kick lately, and I’m not even remotely sorry. This chapter started out as an excuse to re-visit an offhand comment from a previous chapter, and ended up with Sophia having the kind of night off I wish I could have.

Thanks go out to @baelpenrose (beta and also creator of our favorite teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher), @charlylimph-blog (because no one else could have created the ball of chaotic friendliness that is Charly, nor her strong, silent, and charming partner), @werewolf2578 (because I will never not love Maverick), and @creakingcryptid (for donating faerself and Antoine early on to the cause, and putting up with me in real life.  This entire story, from chapter 1, would never have happened if not for faer, and I’m not even remotely exaggerating about that).

“Lift the right corner a bit more,” Tyche called out. “Yeah - Dammit, Arthur, that’s too high. Bring it down a bit more.”

“Do you want to swap?” he quipped, dropping his side of the large, white sheet to exactly where it had been before.

Ignoring him, Tyche asked Maverick to lower his corner instead, to much greater success. At least satisfied with the results, she turned to me and made a ‘ta-da’ gesture towards their work.

I shook my head at her. “And we need this why?”

“Movie night,” she reminded me needlessly.

“Eyeah. It was kind of my idea.”

“And none of us have been to a proper movie theater in ages.” She had a point there.

“Do we even have a projector?” Maverick asked, grinning, as he walked up.

Arthur, right behind him, grinned almost malevolently before Tyche cut him off with a glare. “I told Charly we were doing a movie night,” she offered by way of explanation.

“She insisted she had popcorn covered,” Arthur ventured carefully. “Do I even want to know?”

Eyes wide, I turned to him. “She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. “I asked what that meant, and all I got out of her was a maniacal laugh. By any chance, does she always carry around a cartoon-villain moustache in case she needs to twirl it?”

“And cat ears, yeah,” I confirmed absently. “She really didn’t tell you?”

“I just asked if she got the consoles to actually make popcorn that wasn’t better used as packing material,” he admitted.

Maverick erupted in laughter. “You are in for a treat.”

“Will it poison me?”

“Doubtful,” Tyche shrugged regretfully.

“Hmm. Pity.”

Trying to get somewhat back on topic, I pressed on about the projector. “So, you told Charly we were doing movie night this week, so she is going to… obtain? Steal? Jury-rig a projector?”

“I try not to ask, unlike some people,” Tyche arched an eyebrow defiantly. “Gift horses, mouths, you get it.”

“I doubt she’s stealing one,” Maverick offered. “She’s an engineer. Pretty sure she already had one she made, or is finishing one up as we speak.”

Fair. “What movie did we end up agreeing on?”

Maverick and Arthur answered in unison. “Star Wars.”

“Nuh uh. Nope,” my sister argued. “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”

“I’m with her,” I jerked my finger toward the person not insisting I watch a movie about a war in space while actually on a spaceship.

We continued arguing good-naturedly while getting non-popcorn snacks and drinks together. Arthur, to no small amount of surprise, was putting a very impressive amount of thought and consideration into the arrangement of blankets and pillows on every conceivable seating surface in my living room - some of which I didn’t even recognize and probably didn’t want to know where he got them.  At some point, Derek and Sam arrived, judging by the latter sitting happily next to a moving lump in Arthur’s careful construction and petting my cat.

About the time snacks were ready to be carried into the living room, the door opened to reveal Conor, who abruptly stopped to remove his work boots.  Unfortunately, he was knocked down by a clattering intruder behind him and saved only by the - no joke - knee deep ocean of bedding.  A hinged brass lid and a metal piece of something went flying past his head, revealing the intruder to be Charly. “Hi, guys!” she waved cheerfully. “Don’t worry. Coffey has the projector.”

White teeth flashed in a dark, handsome face as the man in question held up the device. “Her hands were full,” he shrugged before glancing past Conor. “You take movie nights seriously,” he added with an approving nod.

Charly, who I couldn’t remember having even seen wear shoes, had already scrambled over Conor’s laughing form so that she could grab the lid and basket, which she brought along with the enormous pot into my kitchen area. “Popcorn,” she declared, gently slamming the pot on a heating surface.  “As promised. I’m thinking green today.”

“That’s not popcorn,” Arthur pointed out, curiosity etched into every bit of his face.

“Duh, Mr. Farro,” she sputtered. “It’s how we’re going to get popcorn.  The consoles never season it, and it’s always stale, or soggy, or just… not good.  So. I made a whirlypop.” With a clatter, she patted her copper contraption. “It makes absolutely perfect kettle corn, every time. And I can make it whatever color I want, too.”

“It’s really good popcorn,” I confirmed. “She brought some to your fight with Jokul.”

“Of course she did,” he sighed. “I thought you said no selling tickets and no concession stand for that?”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t bring her own, screaming blue popcorn with her,” I held up both hands in surrender. “I couldn’t argue with the logic, and she was the only person there with popcorn, can confirm.” 

When I glanced back at her, I saw what I pretty much expected to see: her handy cartoon-villain moustache was pasted firmly on her face and she was twirling one end in what could only be described as a dastardly fashion. Arthur, on the other hand, was almost sputtering. “I - how? I was facing you, Charly. How?”

“Don’t ask, you probably don’t want to know,” I sighed with a wave of my hand. “Besides, I’m reasonably certain the answer involves a collective hallucination, blood sacrifice, or time travel.”

“Two out of three,” Charly nodded, sounding impressed but not clarifying any further. “So! Everyone ready for- oo! Mini pizzas! - popcorn and Master and Commander?”  A collective groan went up at a third movie being added to our ongoing argument over what we had agreed to watch. “What!? It’s my favorite!”

Maverick explained the conversation we had earlier to those who arrived after. Even having nine people voting now didn’t help: we were still split evenly across all three movies.  In the end, we agreed to take a run at watching all three, but that led to another discussion - what order?  We knew the odds of getting through all three were slim, and nobody wanted theirs to be left out.

Sam finally interrupted us. “If we don’t stay awake through all three, can we watch the last movie on another night?”

My jaw clicked shut mid-argument. Tyche tilted her head, “That makes entirely too much sense.”

With that anticlimactic resolution, we quickly took votes to determine which movies were most popular.  In the end, we ended up with Star Wars first, Master and Commander second, and Repo! last, much to my and Tyche’s chagrin.  At least we weren’t the only ones who voted for it, so I was mollified. Somewhat.

While we were hashing all that out, Charly somehow called upon the popcorn deities and managed to fill nearly every bowl and bucket she could find in my quarters with a rainbow of fluffy kernels. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure how she managed to make that much in roughly fifteen minutes, and when I asked, the only answer I could manage to get from her was “Two out of three, like I said.”

I wasn’t asking after that, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if blood magic was involved, honestly.

Antoine arrived right as I was trying to figure out how to fit on the couch, where Maverick and Conor were cuddling and hogging the whole damned thing.  Unfortunately, between the immense quantities of popcorn, blankets, pillows, and people strewn everywhere - and somehow my Christmas lights were carefully hanging from the ceiling, which I had a sneaking suspicion was Derek’s doing - our poor resident therapist looked a bit confused.

I couldn’t help but grin as I waved at the chaos. “Welcome to movie night, apparently. You can sit anywhere except there,” I explained, gesturing at a particular pile of blankets.

“Why not - ah….” he trailed off in understanding as a hand darted out of the ‘pile’ to snag a mini pizza.

“Eyeah, only Mac can sit there, I think. And nobody better be feeding him pizza?” I warned. “Whoever does gets to keep stinky cat for the night while he has tummy trouble.” Turning back toward the couch, I stuck my lip out in a pout. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“We’re comfy….” Conor whined, hiding what was probably a grin behind Maverick’s head. Rather than sitting up in any capacity, the two were laying down along the entire length of the couch, both their feet sticking off. There was maybe two inches of couch between them and the edge.

While my attention was focused on my boyfriends, two strong hands grabbed each of my arms and tugged me down. With a yelp, I fell across Charly and my sister, both of them giggling. Deliberately, Charly started to pet my hair as clumsily as humanly possible, and the scowl I directed at her set Tyche off in hysterics. When I opened my mouth to protest, popcorn was thrown in.  With another scowl, I surrendered to being draped across both of their laps, with a fluffy blanket spread over me from somewhere.

I still sulked, and ignored that I probably looked like a particularly perturbed cat.  With much determination, I managed to keep a scowl on my face until the first movie started rolling.  It was hard to stay even faux-upset after that, as what ensued was the most laid back night I had enjoyed in longer than I could remember. Seats were stolen every time someone got up for any reason, snacks were eaten and refilled, popcorn got everywhere….

It. Was. Glorious.

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