#unless it's like a full texting conversation then I might copy and paste

[bonesandthebees]

BONES SURELY YOU DONT USE HTML. I FEEL LIKE I JUST LEARNED SANTA HANDCRAFTED ALL OF HIS TOYS SURELY NOT

do you know how many times eli has tried to get me to stop doing this and but I refuse to listen

[monster-rinds]

Chapter 45: Teratodivergence

That conversation got intense fast. When Cassy started talking about how Felicity had thought of me, she started acting more and more like Felicity, and it reminded me of what happened when I delved into Fate Vine’s memories. The rules for how to react to her and reassure her changed.

But we got through it and, for expediency, I’m not going to provide a transcript here. The important part is that it felt like we ended on an agreement to continue our relationship as Cassy and Synthia, and not entertain Felicity’s desires much at all.

Cassy felt what was happening and didn’t like it, and wanted to be herself. So pushing those feelings aside and ignoring them seemed like the best way to do that. Even if it would be hard.

She didn’t exactly hate Felicity, she’d said. But she was clearly very uncomfortable with becoming like her.

I was also reassured that her apparent urges to be eaten or wrapped up in a situation of mutual parasitism were purely Felicity’s feelings for me specifically. And they were a result of a desire for safety from Chord. That seemed to mean that she wasn’t going to be inadvertently sacrificing herself to Chord or one of his minions anytime soon.

By the end of the conversation, I also had a list of adaptations I wanted to try to teach Cassy before we went back to Gresham. But we both needed rest badly, so we texted the boys to let them know we were well and what we were planning on doing.

And Greg insisted on coming back down to Salem for the training sessions. Ayden just happened to come with him.

---

“So, mitosis,” I said.

“Oh, I do that every day,” Greg interjected.

Ayden nudged him and said, “Me too!”

“And, I mean, so do I. Still. I think,” Cassy added, holding up her hand and turning it over to look at both sides of it.

Milk remained silent, a splatter of thermal paste on the pavement of the empty storeroom we were in.

I’d chosen to not try to teach Cassy any monster tricks while in my domain, because she needed to be in full control of herself and her surroundings to have the best chances of learning anything useful. But we still needed privacy. So, we were still in our abandoned storefront, just further back in the building.

“Monster mitosis,” I amended.

“Sure, leave us humans out of it,” Ayden quipped, grinning.

Greg swayed and grunted, “I just want to see as much of this with my own eyes so that I can recognize it when I need to for, well, the rest of my life.”

“Not a bad idea,” I said, nodding. “But hopefully not necessary.”

“Feels necessary now,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. Then I turned specifically to Cassy, “I’m going to say this to you in English first, and then communicate the idea in monster speak, which only you, I, and Milk can hear. But it’ll give you a better sense of what you need to do.”

“Got it,” she nodded.

“Now, you won’t be able to just do this unless it’s already your own adaptation or trait. Most emanants can’t, or don’t even know it’s possible. And there’s an awful political reason behind it, but I’d like to try and teach you anyway, OK?” I explained. “I think it’ll be useful to you.”

“Mmm,” she nodded again, staring at a spot on the floor.

“What you do, if you can do it, is extend a part of yourself – not your physical body, but your monstrous self – into monster space, like a pseudopod. Then you fill it full of memories that you select for its purposes, usually copying those memories to keep them for yourself as well. Usually. And then you pinch it off,” I told her. “This will make more sense when I send you the pure thoughts for it. But I think it might be a way for you to bring Felicity back if you want to, and maybe even get rid of her memories by budding them into a new emanant. But, if it’s not your adaptation yet, you won’t be able to pinch it off. Or you won’t be able to partition your memories like that. The pseudopod thing is so elementary, I can’t imagine an emanant who can’t do it.” I then sent her the explanation via monster speak, and added, “Tell me what it is you have trouble with. And if you manage to do it, you can eat and reabsorb the emanant you’ve created, if you don’t want a child right now.”

“Okay…” she said, long and drawn out in an expression of skepticism.

Then we watched as she extended her arms at a forty five degree angle downward, fingers splayed, like someone trying to levitate a carpet with only her mind. And then she squinted her eyes and strained.

I could tell by her curiosity and fascination being interrupted by frustration that it didn’t work for her.

She looked at me and spoke in English, “I can’t mess with my memories like that. They all feel like a part of me. And I didn’t want to pinch off a mindless blob.”

“Pinch off,” Ayden mouthed silently.

Greg scowled at him and said, “Stop it.”

“Hm, OK,” I replied. “To give yourself that adaptation, it’s going to help if you can examine yourself and successfully alter yourself. And to do that, It’s going to be useful to visualize just what that’s like. So, um, I’m going to share with you what that’s been like for me, and hopefully that will be close enough to what you should experience.”

Cassy turned to me, trying to keep an open and enthusiastic face, but kind of failing, and said, “Okidoke. Sounds good to me!”

So then I sent her those memories as filtered by monster speak, and added verbally, “Felicity also was able to alter herself, to some degree at least, so her memories of that should help you, too.”

But she held up a hand while I was saying that and appeared to concentrate on that visualization, eyes closed again.

Then she shook her head and said, “This is confusing.”

“Take your time,” I told her. “I don’t expect you to figure it out right away. Even if it takes you years, just do what you can to be more aware of yourself and ask questions as they occur to you.”

“No, I mean…” She scowled, slapping her thighs with her hands. “My, um – Felicity’s memories of doing this are weird. When she followed your instructions and did what you told her to do to take on a new adaptation, she succeeded. She remembered feeling like she succeeded. But then, the adaptation was one she’d had all along. Like, she didn’t have to change herself at all. And that’s not helping me figure this out. It’s making it harder.”

“What?” I’d heard her well enough, and understood what she said, so I was directing that question more at Milk, who I looked down at. “Milk? Does that make sense to you?”

“Something Chord did,” it said.

“Yeah, but do you think it was Chord predicting adaptations I’d try to teach her, or doing something really weird with her mind? I’m not sure either makes any sense.”

“It could be a side effect,” Milk suggested. “When it changes an emanant, it alters their memories. Maybe that makes them suggestible to other changes.”

Cassy nodded, looking back and forth between the two of us, “It’s like when Chord swallowed Felicity and changed her, but she couldn’t remember the changes. Everything seemed like it had always been that way.”

“Right, you told us that,” I agreed. “Shit. That’s scary.”

“Synthia?” Cassy addressed me.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can change my adaptations yet,” she said. “It feels like trying to change my physical body. I mean, I only tried a little, but it hurt.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s never hurt me, so maybe that pain’s telling you something,” I explained. “I guess we put off these lessons for a while. Let me know if anything changes for you, though.”

We all stood there staring at the ground for a few seconds. Some of us were probably expecting me to say something more.

When I figured out what I wanted to do next, I look up at Cassy to speak to her, but I was interrupted.

“Teratodivergence,” Ayden said, cheerfully, proud he’d invented a new word.

“What?” I asked him.

“Teratodivergence! It’s like neurodivergence, but for monsters,” he chirped. “Like, you’re all made differently, and it’s diversity, and cool. Though, I guess it makes for some disabilities, too. But you’re just like humans that way, then.”

“I like it,” I told him. “A good explanation.” Then I clapped my hands and declared, “Time to review our plans and scout Gresham, then! Let’s find out just what Chord is doing.”

“You should have been our union boss,” Greg muttered.

---

When Cassy had reported that she could not learn new adaptations, I should have guessed that that meant she hadn’t gained Felicity’s adaptations by eating her. I mean, that’s the default way of things anyway. I’d just fallen prey to what is typically a common human mistake, forgetting that other people aren’t like you.

This meant that we couldn’t easily scout Gresham before returning there, because Cassy couldn’t do the jumping into another host’s mind thing that Felicity had been able to do. And then, missing that option, I realized just how powerful it had been.

I realized then just how much of Gresham’s business Felicity had been capable of keeping tabs on, both human and emanant. She’d been an invaluable resource for Chord.

But had he made her that way? Or had he found her that way and changed something else?

If he didn’t tell the truth when we asked, or if I didn’t just outright eat him and take his memories, we’d likely never know.

So, we were forced to change gears yet again.

I let Milk lead for part of it, because it seemed particularly adept at examining other emanants and guiding them on how to use their own abilities better. And so we helped Cassy figure out just what she was and what she could do.

In short, she was a frightening ambush predator, capable of disguising herself as a human almost perfectly. Especially to anyone who had no clue something like her could exist, or what signs to look for. Her senses were extraordinarily acute, better even than Felicity’s had been. And she ate by sucking other monsters into her gullet. Less like a grouper or stonefish that open their mouths so fast that the current draws their prey in, and more like a temporary little black hole that just constantly pulled anything within range into her.

She demonstrated on a smaller, presumably simpler emanant, and it was terrifying to watch.

Especially since she was able to get within inches of the poor thing before consuming it, and it had no idea.

She did not look or feel very proud of the act, though. Hesitant to show off, and then disturbed by the sensations of it. Disturbed, in fact, by what should have felt good to her.

She did nod her head, though, and confirm that what she’d eaten was little more than a hamster in complexity and age. Because, of course, she also absorbed its memories, as mentioned before by Felicity. And she couldn’t turn that off as an adaptation, which meant that she needed to be careful about what she ate.

Fortunately, according to Milk, her human body could keep her emanant nature functional and intact until it died, just by eating the kinds of foods she was already used to eating. And, the massive stores of energy she’d gotten from Felicity would sustain her for a long time anyway.

In some ways, she made a better scout than Felicity. While she couldn’t hide who she was as a human very well, no more so than any other human, if Chord and his people weren’t aware that she was an emanant she could probably get up pretty close to them and watch what they were doing.

There’d be no going to his estate to check up on him, though. Not by her. That was too risky. But Greg could drive her past key locations to see what kind of emanant activity was going on there, and she could report to me as they did it.

Good enough.

---

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[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

How To Edit Your Writing

Guest Poster: Chronicwhimsy

Here is our final Writer Workshop post, written by Chronicwhimsy. Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too.

Editing: a drive-by guide

Hi, my name is Claire, and I’m an editor.

(Hi Claire)

I’ve been asked to give a quick guide on tips for editing your stories, as I’ve been a beta/editor for various fanfic writers over the years. I’m a professional editor, working for a publishing house in the UK, and I offer independent freelance editing too, via my website. I’ll be on the Discord server answering questions this evening, but I’m also happy to chat to people either through my website or even if you wanted to drop me a line on tumblr.

The key thing to remember about editing is that the end goal is to make your story the best it can be, and make sure your initial idea comes across as clearly and purely as you first imagined it. It’s about ensuring that the lines of communication between you and your reader are 100% open.

To do that, you need to have finished your story, because you can’t fix something that doesn’t exist.

Then you edit.

What now?

So, you’ve finished your Winterhawk Olympic Bang Fic, and you’re wondering what to do next?

The very first, and most important thing you should do? Celebrate. I mean congratulate the hell out of yourself, pat yourself on the back, and have some cake. Finishing stories is hard. Getting through a first draft is one of the trickiest parts of writing, so you should be proud of yourself, and proud of your story.

Because in a short while, editing is going to make you hate both.

I mean that in the nicest possible way of course, but you absolutely are going to be thoroughly sick of this whole thing by the time you’re done, and you’re going to question everything you’ve ever written. You’re going to get a close-up view of all your narrative bad habits which will make you think you’ve never had any skill at all, and you’re going to re-read your work so many times that it’ll feel trite, old, uninspired. This is normal and it is your brain lying to you. If you remember nothing else, remember that!

“The writing itself is no big deal. The editing, and even more than that, the self-doubt, is excruciatingly impossible.” Jonathan Safran Foer

Don’t lose faith! Editors and editing exist for a reason, no first draft is perfect. You’ve done something amazing in finishing, and now you’re going to make it incredible.

Before You Start - Take a Break

You know the phrase “can’t see the wood for the trees”? It could just as easily be “can’t see the story for the words.” It’s never recommended to go straight into editing as soon as you finish writing, and part of the reason for that is because you’re too deep in the story to be able to assess it objectively, or to catch things that are missed out because you know they’re there, but the reader wouldn’t.

“Once it's done, put it away until you can read it with new eyes. When you're ready, pick it up and read it, as if you've never read it before.” Neil Gaiman

Most writers and editors advocate putting a story away for a month or so before returning to edit, so you’re looking at it with fresh eyes. Obviously, with a Big Bang (or other fic event) this sort of time is usually at a premium! Try and make as much space as you can while still leaving yourself time to edit.

If you really don’t have any time, one trick that can help is changing your location. If you write in your room, can you relocate to your kitchen? Or a café (if you can safely)? Could you print it out? (Printing Top Tip: if you do print it, try and do it double-spaced - this makes it easier on the eyes, and gives you room to make notes. Also, serif fonts can often be easier to read than sans serif fonts, as it gives stronger distinctions between different letters.)

The Filter System

I like to think of the editing process as a series of different filters which, when used one after the other, produce a finely-sieved finished product. Each filter stage has slightly smaller holes than the one before it, as you look increasingly closely at your work.

Filter 1: Structural editing

Does the story make sense? Is the pace okay? Do all the scenes work where they are, or would they be better elsewhere? Do some scenes need to be there at all? Is the characterisation consistent? Does anyone change names halfway through? Did you forget what time of year it was set halfway through?

Filter 2: Line editing

Is this phrase as tight as it could be? Have you repeated yourself anywhere? Does this sentence add anything or does it throw the pace off? Have you gone overboard with adjectives and similes? Have you been too sparse with them?

Filter 3: Copy editing

Is your style consistent? Did you start writing in present tense and switch to past tense? Could this scene transition be snappier? Are there any bits that you want to tidy up? Have you left any half-finished sentences because you got distracted before you could end it?

Filter 4: Proofreading

Is everything spelled correctly? Have you caught all the strange grammar mistakes?

Some of these things might be picked up by your beta reader if you have one. Different beta readers have different styles, and also they will work based on their relationship with you and what you prefer. Some may stick to proofreading and consistency-checking, others may be more confident to dive right in and look at structure, pacing and characterisation. Some may work through the process with you as you write, others may only look at the story when it’s complete so they can get a full overview. There is no right or wrong answer, and having a conversation with your beta about your respective styles at the start can help you work better together!

Filter 1 - Structural Editing

For this stage, you want to read your whole story through from start to finish, and resist the urge to tweak anything to begin with! You will want a way of making notes as you go through because as you do, you’ll make yourself a cheat-sheet to help you with your line edit. Things to keep track of:

Character name spellings

Character ages

Character relationships (drawing a relationship web can be very helpful to visualise this!)

The time span of the story - the date it starts, the date it ends.

As a subset of this, I find it can be very helpful to set up a spreadsheet with a timeline of what happens in the story, and who is involved. Doing this both chronologically for the characters and in order of how it happens in the story can help you keep track of what characters know when, and also when the readers find out certain information. You might have one of these from when you were planning your story (as detailed in Sara Holmes’ workshop). If you’ve kept it up to date with changes to the plot and structure as you’ve written, this will be super helpful.

At this stage, you’re looking to see if everything works as a consistent story. You want to check to see if it feels like it’s the right pace, or if there are bits where it drags or rushes through the action. Why is this? Are there scenes which aren’t adding anything to the progress? Could they just be referred to in passing, or removed entirely without impacting the story? Are there other scenes which need to be added to provide more detail and growth? Is there anything that you as a writer know that is essential to the story, but you forgot to actually put in the text?

“Crafty writers...don't allow Exposition to form Lumps. They break up the information, grind it fine, and make it into bricks to build the story with.” Ursula K. Le Guin

You’re also looking to see if the characters feel true to themselves all the way through. Do the relationships spark? Do they sound like themselves? Can you hear them in your head?

Some people recommend doing several structural edits, with a different focus each time. One pass to look at the pacing, one pass to look at the characters, one to look at the story arc. You’ll work out what floats your boat, but you will be re-reading this story a lot of times before you’re done editing - which is why it’s very important to write what you love and want to read! You’ll go through many stages of hating this story before you let it go, and that will be even harder if it wasn’t something you enjoyed in the first place.

Filter 2 - Line Editing

So you remember I told you to make all those notes during your structural edit? Here’s where you’re going to use them. Now’s the time to go through your story line by line and check that the details in your cheat sheet are correct all the way through the story. I’ve written a novel that I initially set in November, but by the time I finished it, I’d decided it was taking place in early May. I had to go back and fix all the dates and weather descriptions to make sure the action hadn’t actually been yeeted forward six months spontaneously in the middle of a conversation.

Arguably, the line edit will be the most painful part of editing. At this stage, you will be taking a fine-tooth comb to everything you have written, examining it to within an inch of its life, and casting judgement. You’re going to find every stylistic tic you have (for me, everyone is constantly quirking their eyebrows and smirking like they’ve got cramp in their facial muscles), and you’re going to get rid of them (a person only has so many eyebrows, and they can only quirk so far). Now is the time to kill your darlings - don’t hang on to anything unless you feel it’s really doing a job to further the story and the characters.

“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler's heart, kill your darlings.” Stephen King

If you have ever worried about the unbearable sensation of being Known, the line edit is where you will experience that with every word, and you’ll be doing it to yourself. This is when the doubts will really start to creep in and you will maybe feel like everything you write is unoriginal, derivative trash and unfit for human eyes.

Here I’ll reiterate what I said above:

This is a normal feeling, everyone experiences it when editing. E V E R Y O N E.

It’s a lie. No-one else will ever read your story in this state, no-one else will ever read your story this closely. Of course it feels obvious and uninspired to you - you wrote it. It’s your idea, and you’ve read it several times, it holds no surprises for you. (I may be projecting my feelings from every time I’ve edited something here, but…)

You’ll also be catching any ELEPHANTS or whatever your mammal of choice for placeholder text is that you’ve stationed throughout the story as a flag for you to come back and add in a name, or a food, or a song title later. You know, the things you decided were a problem for Future!You. I have bad news, the future is now.

Top Tip: if you have changed someone’s name halfway through, DON’T for the love of Mike, just do a straight find and replace to correct it. Because that’s when you suddenly find out how many other words actually contain names (Mark became Bill? That’s great, until your characters are going to the superBillet to buy groceries). Some word processing programmes have a “whole word” option which is your friend, otherwise ensure to put spaces either side of the word when you search. If you don’t, you’ve just made another horrible job for yourself...

Filter 3 - Copy Editing

Once you’ve made it out the other side of the Line Edit (and given yourself a nice treat to congratulate yourself because that stage is HARD), we get onto copy editing. This is basically the set-dressing stage. You’ve built the house, you’ve decorated the room, and now you’re just making sure every bit of furniture is in the right place for optimal feng shui.

Here’s where you go through and go, do I really need a dash here, or could I just use a comma? Could I use fewer commas? Could I go in and move all of @kangofu_cb’s commas around because I’m the sort of person who will come into your house and change how you hang your toilet paper or where you keep your ketchup.

Now is the time to be as picky as possible, like you’re an interior designer for the most demanding client in the world and the ornament must be exactly equidistant from both ends of the mantlepiece and facing precisely south-west. Things that may have just survived your line edit will be measured again, and if they’re found wanting, then they get binned.

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” Mark Twain

Another thing you might like to do here is check that all your features and things are correct. Did you make a wild claim about the lifecycle of salamanders, or the average price of corn and then never go back to verify this? Take a second to just do that now. It may be that you decide it’s not a problem (I received one copy edit note saying that an idiom used in a book wasn’t recorded until 200 years later, and I made the editorial decision that no-one would care), but for bigger things you may want to make sure you’re accurate.

If you google it (as I just did, to make sure I was definitely giving you the right information), copy editing is often conflated with line editing, and that’s because in reality a lot of the elements of copy editing actually wouldn’t usually be done by the author, and are probably irrelevant to fanfic. The copy editor is responsible for ensuring the book has a consistent grammatical style in line with the preferences of the publisher (em-dash or en-dash, curly quote marks or straight ones, how you deal with acronyms, what needs to be italicised, etc. etc.), which isn’t necessarily required for fanfic. In reality, for fanfic I’d use this stage as a second, lighter line-edit to see where things can be tightened up in phrasing, as well as perhaps a preliminary proofread where you start to mark up any spelling errors.

Filter 4 - Proofreading

By this stage, you’ll be exhausted, and sick to death of the blasted thing. But the end is in sight! Now you’re onto the proofread. This is another close read, where you go through and check for spelling errors, typos, missing full stops, strange formatting stuff (which probably will be less of an issue as AO3 basically makes everything uniform anyway).

Before you even start this, change your font.

We’ve all been there, thought we’d caught every spelling error, every weird typo, only to spot six immediately after posting. That’s because after a certain point our brain becomes used to the font we’ve written in, and will automatically correct things that aren’t right. AO3 has its own unique formatting - colour, spacing, font - and the minute your fic appears on there in this new format you brain wakes up and is like “oh shit, yeah, that’s not how it should be.”

By changing the font before you proofread, you preempt this step.

Another thing to remember: it’s unlikely you will ever catch every mistake. Published books regularly go out with a smattering of typographical errors throughout the text - how many first editions of books are valuable because of misspellings that slipped through the net? You’re only human.

“Connie's other job was proof-editing which she did very badly. Transferring the author's corrections to a clean sheet of proofs was something Connie was unable to do without missing an average of three corrections a page, or transcribing newly inserted material all wrong... she put angry authors' letters about the mutilation of their books under the cushion of her chair to deal with later.” Muriel Spark, A Far Cry from Kensington

Often, spelling errors and things you would look for in a proofread are things that a beta reader will pick up as they go, as they’re the easiest things to spot, but it’s also worth looking over yourself for anything your beta might have missed.

Whether you decide to follow any or all of these steps, always do the proofread last.There is no point carefully spellchecking a chapter you are then going to delete, or proofreading the whole thing, but adding loads of new paragraphs later that either don’t get looked at or mean you end up having to proofread twice. That’s the only hard and fast rule when it comes to editing, and it will save you a lot of unnecessary work!

FREEDOM

And then, finally, unbelievably - you’re done. Your literary child is ready to leave the nest. Resist the urge to keep re-reading and tweaking. Instead, click “publish” and give yourself a nice little treat. You’ve earned it.

Miscellany and Disclaimers

These editing stages are ones that would be applied to a published novel. An author would probably do this several times - once on their own to get it ready for submission, then perhaps again with their agent, but the really heavy work would be done with their editor. The structural edit would be done under the advice of an agent or editor where the author looks at their comments, rejigs things accordingly, and lather, rinse, repeat until everyone’s happy. The editor would undertake the line edit, and the author would decide what they wanted to keep or change. The copy edit and proofread would be done in-house or sent to freelancers, with queries and changes wafted past the author for clarification or approval.

Self-published authors will often hire freelancers to help at various stages to get feedback and advice.

Very rarely would an author go from draft to final published piece by doing all their editing alone. Because it’s hard fucking work, and because your brain will get exhausted.

In light of that, you need to remember:

You’ve written a fanfic

The editorial standards of fanfic are significantly less stringent than published books

Editing by yourself is really hard work that many people are often paid to do for published books

No-one is paying you for your fanfic

Fanfic is supposed to be fun

Some published authors will edit and rewrite and edit and rewrite again and again. At a panel I attended, Joanne Harris said that if she didn’t rewrite her work at least five times she was being too easy on herself, while Joe Hill said he usually aimed for three rewrites - Joe edited as he went along, going over the previous day’s pages before continuing, where Joanne completed her manuscripts before editing. Elizabeth May has talked about her stages of drafting, starting with her Trash Draft, then her Clean Draft, and then rewriting and editing after that.

These are people who are writing professionally, getting paid for their work, and so the time they put in has monetary results. If you want to write original fiction, their advice is extremely valuable.

For fanfiction, it’s a large time investment for something you’re doing as a hobby for free. If I’m strictly honest, I’m fairly lax with my fanfiction editing. I do structural discussions and tweaks with my beta reader as I write, and then a spell check. I’m also aware that my fanfics aren’t narratively complex, nor do they seem as polished, rich and deep as some of the other works out there. That’s fine by me. You simply need to find the level you’re happy at, where you can still feel proud of your work but you’re enjoying the experience.

In the end - it’s all for fun!

Resources:

Online

Curtis Brown Creative: An Editor’s Guide to Editing Your Novel

Joanne Harris: Ten Tweets About Editing

Joanne Harris: Writing Resources

NerdsLikeMe: Beta Reading vs Proofreading vs Editing

Books

Stephen King - On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Ursula K. Le Guin - Steering the Craft: Exercises and Discussions on Story Writing for the Lone Navigator or the Mutinous Crew

[steveyockey]

I think this might be of your interest but in case it isn't I'm sorry and disregard this word salad, but that article you posted is an eye opener cause there is one specific company that so clearly took inspiration from their model (no merchandise, no activities beyond meeting the actors, continental breakfast and vip parties) and capitalized on fandom in Italy (it's k*neticvibes) and I discovered it cause I was used to other cons and then a friend begged me to go to a shadowhunters con and I was ???? at the absolute dryness and boredom of it all, and at the level of interest for the actors personal activities and anecdotes which absolutely incites a strange level of parasocial connection cause you get out of there with the false feeling of knowing the cast. the system also stimulates the same mechanism where people who bought vip passes will "haul" meetings, even with cast members they hate and become famous in fandom for it. and at first I thought it was bc that company started as a kpop concerts organizer, so they didn't know what a con truly is, to the point where they asked not to take photos at panels so they would have full control on their material or asked you to pay for digitals of your own photo ops unless you had higher tier tickets. people kept comparing it to their counterparts in France, which were much more relaxed and cheaper. but now, after this weekend and that article?? truly capitalism is always at the root of it all cause they basically copy pasted c-ent and now that I think about it. yes it's fun to pretend you know the actors for 5 minutes. but the experience is absolutely underwhelming. the simple idea that you would auction meet and greets to the point where it's clear actors are never going to be able to express an unbiased or honest opinion cause you paid 500 bucks to ask them if they prefer pizza or pasta so they're ways gonna say what you want to hear is unfathomable to me tbh. of course fandom will be a gatekeeping nightmare if the same 10 people get to be front row at every event

FASCINATING !! yeah it’s like. obviously capitalism runs everything at a base level. supernatural aired to sell ads. but it is DISTINCTLY vile to take a space that, under the appropriate conditions, should be about celebrating the text, conversing with creators, and meeting other fans and turn it into just the worst exercise in celebrity adulation. I think a lot of people disappointed in the con this weekend for reasons of “why the hell didn’t they talk about the show” are ABSOLUTELY CORRECT but it’s also crazy that a lot of people already go to supernatural cons not for the show but for the exclusivity of the experience itself. if you pay enough money you can eat brunch with j2! as though that experience will in any way be meaningful to them or even meaningful to you in a capacity outside the importance you grant it by indulging in their egos. it’s disgusting! makes me even more of a fan of the hellers who would go to cons and ask questions about destiel and get booed. why NOT upset the space! it didn’t hold any particular meaning in the first place. I don’t think parasocial relationships are entirely evil, and even if I did, it’s not useful for me to act like we aren’t constantly being encouraged to engage in them, but supernatural seems distinctly at fault for how pathetically predatory it all ends up. anyway, bo burnham

[willowistic22]

Red (Redfinch)

Despite their breakup, Albert still wanted to go see Finch perform in one of his concerts when Race asked him if he wanted to come. This is the perfect chance for them to talk things out again but words aren’t cooperating for either of them. With that, Finch decides to triy a different form of communication.

Words : 5233

Part : -

Warnings : Alcohol, cursing, cigarettes, angst in general

A/N : Woah that’s a crazy word count uhh,,,, hi i’m back with another fic. Another redfinch and for that we stan lol (well idk maybe yall are annoyed by all these redfinch fics but yknow what? i’m thriving off of it) But fr I’ll eventually get into writing other ships but for now have one more redfinch combined with another tswift songs (as you do) this time with Red. Wow we are so surprised who would have thought of redfinch being associated with the song red no we aren’t surprise :D This one specifically exists in my bandsies au. you don’t need to read that first to understand this (i think?) but it wouldn’t hurt if you checked that out as well:) Tbh i can’t decide whether i love it or hate it but at least i like it enough to post it. N ee wayysss enjoy!!

His brain is screaming about how much Albert shouldn’t be doing this. Comprising a list of cons that goes on forever. And although he thinks all of the cons his brain had written is logical, that one pro his heart wrote beside the long list was all it took for Al to say yes. All the cons will be worth suffering through if he finally gets to see Finch again. And maybe it’s for the better since he’s not doing well by distancing himself from the boy.

Unfortunately, the world isn’t black and white. Meaning that even if he did choose to follow what his heart wants, all the horrible feelings will still be there. And with every step he takes, inching closer to the entrance of the building, he’s getting even more terrified by the second. Thankfully, the line for the entrance is going pretty slow which gives time for Albert to calm down.

But it’s not helping. The line is crowded and full of fans, talking excitedly about the band’s awaiting concert inside. For some odd reason, he can only hear the conversations between fans that contain one specific name. He doesn’t hear anyone mentioning Romeo, Elmer, or Jojo’s name. Not even Crutchie, who he’s been told to be the fans’ favorite. Just the name Finch, being repeated all around him. With adoration and excitement lacing the name. The line is delaying the inevitable and the people around him makes him a bit overwhelmed.

“We can still turn around if you want. I’m sure they’ll find a way to give us a refund”

If he’s actually being honest, it was his best friend that got him to come. Race returned to their shared apartment a few weeks ago and rushed to ask Albert if he wanted to go see their friends performing tonight. Race knows about Al and Finch’s break up but it’s worth asking him first. And to his surprise, he said yes.

“No, it’s fine” Albert replied, “I’m fine”

“You’re picking your pimples right now”

“So?”

“It’s one of your nervous habits”

That piece of information really caught Al off guard. He didn’t think a tiny random fact about himself would actually corner him the way Race is doing now. Eyeing Albert through his glasses and raising his eyebrows despite his forehead being mostly covered by his beanie.

“Well… I-” Albert tried to come up with bullshit as fast as he could, “I like to do it on purpose too, alright?! My fingers just... get a little itchy!”

He slowly puts his hands down from previously reaching up to pick his face. And the line is still going slow, one step at a time. It’s not doing any favors for Al.

“Dude, it’s alright if you’re not ready to see him” Race continued, “It takes time, I get it”

“Race, I’ll be fine! How many more times do I have to tell you?” Albert argued, which finally made Race back down. And to make sure it’s no longer gonna be brought up, Al changes the subject, “By the way, where’s Specs and Mike? You said they’re watching too”

“They’re already backstage with the others for...  obvious reasons” Race answered casually, catching on to Albert's intentions to change the subject. “So is Kath, by the way. We’ll meet her in there though”

To that, Albert simply nods. His jittery movements turn into rocking his body on the ball of his feet while digging his lips with his teeth. Race tries to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he does. Albert knows he does. Although he’s glad he’s not bringing it up because it might make it worse.

He’d be lucky to know that he’s not the only one panicking over this. In the dressing room, an aggravated Finch throws his phone to the cushion of the couch after sending the last text to his friend Race. It sounds unlawful for Race to be ‘secretly updating’ Finch on how Albert is actually doing because it’s obviously something Albert doesn’t want to directly tell his ex.

Finch groans, placing his elbow on his armchair to support his head. The room is spinning in his view and he wishes it all to stop. Taking deep and long breaths to stabilize his shaky limbs. A little prayer starts playing in his heart, it follows the tempo of his fast heartbeat.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Finch opens his eyes and looks up to meet his bandmate sitting on the couch across from him. He hadn’t even been talking for a good hour because he’s too fixated with the first text Race sent him when he and Al first started making their way to the concert.

“Yeah, he’s in line” Finch replied, looking up to the blond boy who’s holding his bass.

“How are they not being mobbed?” Another voice rang. This time it’s not coming from one of Finch’s bandmates. It’s coming from Race and Albert’s bandmate, sitting next to the shortest member of Finch’s band on the couch.

Specs only ask that because their two bands have a long connecting history and their fanbase tends to be sort of the same in a way. With Specs dating Romeo and Mike dating Jojo, Race and Albert are bound to be recognized and mobbed by at least a few fans. Especially seeing that Albert is Finch’s former lover, although the fans know that as a rumor since the two never publicly addressed it.

“I’m assuming they’re wearing a lot of shit to cover their faces” Another answered, the other VIP of the show alongside Specs, Mike. He’s twirling his drink in his hand while the other keeps Jojo cuddled close to him, “I mean, Al’s head is really fucking bright!”

With the mention of that specific name, Finch sulks back in his armchair with a groan. He covers his face with his hands, hoping it’d make the world just stop for one second. He could hear a loud clean slap echoing the room, followed by overlaps of whispered scolding. If he had to guess, it was Mike who was the one getting slapped and scolded.

“This is a disaster…” Finch exclaimed to himself, still not lifting his face up.

“It doesn’t have to be unless you make it like that” this time a feminine voice spoke up. A voice he recognized to belong to Kath.

Finch hears footsteps approaching him. He feels the motion of someone softly kneeling down in front of him. His hands were gently pried open and he was met with Kath’s friendly smile.

“It takes time, but you gotta trust the process”

It’s not necessarily the words he needed to hear right now, but it still warms his heart to hear his friend still being there for him despite the sticky situation he has gotten them into.

Everything would’ve been just fine if Finch hadn’t been so pushy and upset over Albert’s decision. He was the one that decided to put his music career on hold to go get that engineering degree, which frankly seems pretty useless. Finch was so dirty for pulling the ‘you’re being selfish’ card at him when it’s not even his band at all. Race, Specs, Mike, Ike, and even their manager Denton were very supportive about his decision to get that degree. Heck, all their friends were! But not Finch. His boyfriend at the time. He argued like he secretly knew how the others felt about Al leaving when really there aren’t any secret feelings for him to know. All his arguments came from his own feelings.

However, he knows Albert’s ‘own decision’ was secretly coated by his father’s persuasive words. The whole ‘just in case the music career doesn’t work out’ argument was basically the copy and pasted words from his father. They both know it. Despite the arguments, it still seemed that Al was determined to fully focus on college anyways. Instead of following his fellow musician friends’ college path by getting a degree in the non-lecture-hall way, he followed his father’s words and actually attended his college classes in a proper campus.

In the moment, Finch was just too focused on Albert leaving. Maybe he was the one being selfish. He had only realize now that most of his arguments were because he didn’t want Albert to go. It’s too late now, since the last time they saw each other was when Al slammed the door of their apartment one last time with all his stuff and a plane ticket to Seattle. At that point, Finch was finally tired of all the arguing and told him that if this was his plan then he’s on his own.

The tears that came after were filled with sorrow and regret. Sorrowful because he missed him. Regretful because he only realized then that there was no valid reason for Finch to lash out in the first place other than for his own needs. The feeling is still present to this moment. And it’s currently the strongest right before a show because he knows he’s gonna be in the crowd.

“Look, we’ll let ya drown out your feelings with some booze later” Crutchie finally said, “But right now we got a show”

The band was all getting up from where they were seated, bringing whatever they needed to the stage. Crutchie gets some help from Jojo to bring his Bass till he properly sits on the stool on stage. But Finch stays perfectly still, holding Kath’s hand as if his life depends on it.

“I know I should talk to ‘im, Kath” Finch finally said, slowly joining the others in standing up. Kathrine follows along, eyes still fixed to her friend, “But… I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say to him”

“Then don’t talk” Mike suddenly inserts himself in their little conversation. He gets up and approaches the two, “Sing him the new single”

“You’re fucking insane, Mike!” Katherine instantly snapped.

“Alright, your mouth will be legally sealed shut till the end of the concert” Specs joins them only to drag Mike away. There were some protests from the boy, but it was totally shut down by everyone else in the room.

“No, wait. He’s got a point” Finch suddenly exclaimed, which quickly got the whole room to freeze in time.

He looks at his bandmates, all standing by the doorway ready to kill the concert. A half confident smile appears on his face and he says, “Let’s sing that single”

-

The concert is held in a bar like-venue with multiple floors, slowly being filled to the brim by excited fans. Their excitement bounces off the walls of the venue, creating an ecstatic kind of environment despite the tight space. The concert is going to start any minute now and while the fans surrounding him are shaking in excitement, Albert is shaking in a nervous fit.

“Still okay there, Al?”

Albert looked to his side, seeing his good friend Kathrine looking up to meet his eyes with concern. She had just joined the boys in the midst of the crowd after hanging out behind the stage with the band.

“What? Yeah, I’m okay” He replied, “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re squeezing my hand a little too tight”

Al had only realized he’s been holding Kath’s hand just now. His brain was too focused on his fears about meeting Finch again to the point that he hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He gets bashful all of a sudden, cheeks going a bit warm, harshly pulling away from her grasp.

“It’s okay, you can hold my hand if you want,” Katherine said gently.

“Kath, I’m fine!” Albert said, “Why won’t you and Race believe me?”

“Because we know it’s utter bullshit”

The pair looked back towards the crowd behind them where the familiar voice originated from. There, Race struggles through a sea of people with two drinks in hand. Oddly enough, he still seems to stand the heat despite still wearing his face disguise. A white cotton mask, black-framed glasses, and a grey beanie mostly providing cover for his blond curls. While Al, seeing that the venue is pretty dark and speculations has led him to believe that the fans would be focused on the concert rather than the people attending it, had already put away his mask. However, his fears still made him wear his snapback and grey-framed glasses just in case.

Albert takes his rightful drink, and with a free hand, Race takes off his own mask and stuffs it in his pockets. He complains about the stuffiness from wearing the mask all while doing so, which made Kath laugh. It appears the Albert-scolding has been forgotten for the time being, as Kath and Race starts engaging in their own conversation, which Al doesn’t mind because he’d much like to down his beer quickly.

And then the concert finally starts.

An exciting intro starts playing as the band enters the stage. The wild crowd welcoming the band is deafening to Albert’s ear. Time freezes and everything in between fades away. All he sees is Finch, up on stage wearing a smile brighter than the lighting of the venue itself. He’s using his old dark green guitar. The same one he uses when he’s writing songs in bed or when he just feels like strumming the strings. Albert remembers the memoirs of all the guitar string scars he had earned throughout the years of knowing him. Some of them were even caused by Albert himself.

Lucky that Finch hasn’t noticed Albert has been staring at him the whole time. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the boy since the start of the first song, shimmering under the spotlight with amazing vocals. Laughing about at his fellow bandmates’ antics on stage. Oh, that laugh. It gives him butterflies in his stomach like it was the first time hearing it.

He can feel two pairs of familiar eyes on him. But he’s too far gone to care. Albert really did make a big mistake for letting Finch go that easy. Because at the end of his previous college days, he still loves him and misses him dearly. His little Finchy. It doesn’t matter to Al anymore if Race and Katherine are eyeing him with sorrow or the whole world were to look at him weirdly for fixating his own eyes towards the beautiful boy on stage. He was his beautiful boy. Good lord, does he long to see the days when he got to call Finch his.

“Holy shit, I fucked up” Albert muttered under his breath, only Kath and Race could hear it, “I should’ve never had left”

His friends were definitely not expecting Albert to verbally exclaim his regret. They already knew from the start despite the redhead’s previous denials. But hearing him say it just makes it all more real. Even Albert himself was hit by a truck of reality just by loudly announcing it.

“Well, now you know” Katherine started, gentle voice on the same volume as his own despite the volume of their current surroundings being incredibly loud, “Go tell him that after the show”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t” Albert replied, fully turning away from the stage to properly look at his friends. A glint of sorrow and desperation flashes before his face, “I might make things worse!”

“Well, you’ll never know till you try” Race said, sounding a little hesitant at the start. He offered a warm smile at his friend and a hand on his shoulder, since there isn’t much he could do in the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Albert turns back towards the stage only to witness the biggest surprise of his life. Finch looked back. Straight into Albert’s eyes, it pierced right through to get his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He just realized the song the band was previously playing had ended and they were waiting for the fans to quiet down. While Romeo playfully over-dramatize his thank you’s to the crowd and gets scolded by Elmer and Crutchie, Finch was continuously staring at Albert. The hands that were previously used to play with his guitar hang idly because his center of attention wasn’t at his instrument right now.

It might just be some form of hallucination Al retained from the high, but Finch seemed to be smiling at him a little. Just a little curve at the end of his lips while he’s still staring back.

Albert doesn’t know how to interpret this other than to just stare back. Deep down, his heart is flipping in all kinds of ways and his thought process is no longer comprehensible. He’s trying to read the other boy’s emotions but it’s too neutral to tell. Other than the fact that he’s smiling a little at him but that still doesn’t give him a proper answer.

Eventually Finch becomes the first one to look away, seeing that the audience had settled down for the band. Albert’s eyes were still glued to Finch, retaining his focus back to the concert. He opens his mouth for a moment to say something into his microphone, although he unexpectedly stopped. The flow of words seemed to cut short. He saved himself by pulling himself away from the microphone up front and towards the rest of his bandmates. Judging from the body language, they seem to be whispering.

“What’s happening?” Albert whispered, more to himself rather than to his friends.

“I’m not sure…” Race replied, taking a step closer to where Al is standing.

The band kept the discussion short and quickly got back to their places. Finch seems to hesitate the second time he opens his mouth to speak. But this time, he gets the words out.

“Uhh… sorry ‘bout that. I uhh… I just got the urge to go a bit out of our fixed setlist and uhh… hope you guys don’t mind” Finch explained with a little giggle at the end. The crowd couldn’t care less and cheered on. Finch smile widens at the agreement, “We thought we’d give ya an early access to our newest single that hasn’t been released yet”

A euphoric feeling passed through the crowd as the cheering got louder. It baffled Finch so much that he laughed into his mic.

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it” Katherine commented under her breath.

But Al’s ears were sharp enough to catch it. He snaps his head around to face the girl behind him, “Do what?”

Katherine was rendered speechless to that question, despite obviously knowing what’s going on. Albert turns to Race but he has no idea. He finally turns back to the stage where Finch’s gaze was already waiting to be returned by Al himself.

Without breaking the gaze, Finch speaks into the mic with a little smile, “It’s called ‘Red’”

It was Albert’s turn to be speechless. He had no knowledge of a new single since he’s mostly been staying away from his ex’s social media for the sole purpose of moving on, which he had failed miserably. And none of his friends had told him anything about a single that’s title was a secret language only Finch and Albert share, littered with all sorts of vintage romance.

“Holy shit…” Race exclaimed, “...I had no idea they were gonna play this song”

The opening of the song starts with Jojo lightly plucking a few strings of his acoustic guitar. The crowd goes wild once again, energy bouncing off one wall to the other.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”

Crutchie sang the first line smoothly. At this point the other’s had joined in with their instrument. Finch fully ignoring the crowd and focused on looking at Al. Those blue eyes are trying to send a message to Albert and it’s being coded with the song they’re currently playing.

The song had carried on till it reached the chorus. All the instruments peaked at that moment and collaborated with each other to create a very euphoric sound. The crowd jumps along to the beat of the song along with a loud cheering, obviously enjoying the tune they have yet to listen to. Some were holding up cameras to capture this moment, most likely to later share it with the fans that didn’t get the chance to witness it live.

At this point, Finch had turned his face away from Al. There was a troubling look in his expression but it was quickly covered by closing his eyes as if he’s trying to concentrate on singing the chorus with the others. But Al is no fool. He knows that look on Finch’s face is when he’s trying to avoid something, and that something is him.

“Losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

But loving him was red”

The words moved something in Al. It was written in a way Albert recognized it to be Finch’s writing style. Every single part of the song. From the melody, the chord progression, even the lyrics. Especially the lyrics.

“Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword

And realizing there's no right answer

Regretting him was like wishing you never found out

That love could be that strong”

As Finch harmonized that line with Jojo, he stole a little sad side glance at Albert. The song returns to the chorus once again, Finch gets dragged with the beat and lightly moves his body along.

Albert gets captivated along with the music. He can feel the corner of his lips slightly rising up, which is pretty ironic seeing that Finch is singing a breakup song about them. Maybe because he’s relieved to hear Finch sing about how he’s not fully over him. Or maybe it’s because he gets to see Finch embracing the break up, which could potentially mean that he’s okay with it. But whatever it is, he’s happy seeing Finch like this. Or just seeing him in general.

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head”

The chord progression’s pattern slightly changed. Finch sings his line into the microphone, closing his eyes as if to soak up all the intoxicating energy he gets from the crowd. Of people flailing their hands into the sky and a loud chorus of undecipherable shouting. But at the last line, he steals a proper glance back at Albert.

“In burning red”

The lyrics really says it all. There’s no more hidden message that Albert needs to decipher, as it's being presented right in front of him.

Finch takes over the next part of the song, shredding his guitar which makes the crowd go wild. At the moment, it looks like he’s feeling himself. Moving along with the motion of his fingers that creates each note.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

'Cause loving him was red”

The song is supposed to be a punch to Albert’s guts, and yet he finds himself laughing at it. He catches a glimpse of Finch’s eyes, sneaking its way to look back at Albert every so often. And this time, he wears a smile while jumping along to the song. And it made Al smile back.

“His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street”

As the song ended, the fans went wild. The look on Finch’s face seems satisfied at the success of the single they have yet been released to the world, shining at the sight of a hype crowd. He steals one last glance at Albert with a little smile on his face. Albert would dare to say he’s being a bit shy. To that, Albert smiles back with a disbelief laugh escaping his lips before Finch pulls his gaze away from the other boy.

After playing a few more songs, the concert ended. There was only one thing in Albert’s mind, which was talking to Finch. Race and Albert quickly put their disguise back on before the crowd had realized who they were as they exited the venue. The three stay behind as the venue gets emptied, Race and Katherine making quick work with their fingers on their phones to contact their friends backstage.

Jojo was the first to respond to either of them. He said that Finch is smoking behind the venue alone. One could only assume that he’s not in his best state after spontaneously choosing to sing that single. But Jojo assured them that he’s still good to talk to. Crutchie then responded, saying that Specs and Mike can pick them up to get them into the backstage.

It didn’t take them long, but Albert wasn’t keen on seeing the others right now. After being pointed towards the back door, Albert was already off. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he makes quick steps towards it.

He gently opens the door, to avoid surprising the boy in case he was nearby. Albert steps out to a parking lot, open-spaced with another parking lot above it as its roof. At a first glance it was completely empty, only a few lights turned on to keep the area lit. His eyes gandered even further and spotted the boy he was looking for, back facing Al and his body leaning on metal bars as he enjoyed the nightlife of the city.

Albert took a deep breath to calm his adrenaline, slowing down his walking pace. The area is eerily quiet. Only a few things that can be heard: his footsteps, his thumping heart, and the sounds coming from the streets three stories below them. With every step closer, he slowly unraveled his makeshift disguise. Shoving his mask and glasses in the pockets of his jeans but left the snapback on.

“��Loving him was red’” Albert said to catch Finch’s attention, “Did you mean it to be that obvious?”

Finch didn’t fully turn his head around, only halfway so Al can see the little grin of amusement forming on his face. A little chuckle escaped his lips, causing his chest to pulse along before he continued, “Not really. But it has a nice ring to it”

Albert takes a few steps closer towards the metal bars, leaning his body on it like what Finch is doing. Now he can clearly see the half burnt cigarette on Finch’s hand. Al tries to make eye contact with him, but Finch is purposely turning his head the other way and giving Albert his head full of blond curls.

“You came back” Finch suddenly said, voice hushed and low.

“Of course I came back” Albert replied, “You didn’t think I’d fully leave like that, did’ja?”

“Well, no. It’s just that you seemed so hellbent on going to college”

Albert slowly nods at that, moving his gaze towards the streets below like the other boy. They sit in the silence for a few minutes. Hearing different vehicles pass by the street below them and honking from the distance.

“Finch, I’m so sorry I left ya like that” Albert suddenly started, fully turning his face towards him. He couldn’t find a way to word it and so he resorted to just telling him the truth. Finch stays quiet to let him continue, “I was an idiot to let ya go that easily and all because I was selfish”

“You weren’t actually being selfish” Finch said, smiling a little at his words, “You did it because you wanted to. And it wasn’t hurting anyone anyways”

“It did. It hurt you”

Finch turns his head towards Albert. Now their eyes are looking into each other closer than before. The closest they’ve ever been since their breakup. A mixture of unsaid emotions made the gaze feel so intimate and it terrifies Al a bit. 

“I hurt myself trying to get you to stay” Finch said softly. His next words got stuck in his throat. He gives his brain a few seconds to focus with a sigh out of his mouth and dragging his gaze away from Al, “I knew you never wanted to get that engineering degree in the first place which is another reason I didn’t want you to go. But at the end of the day, it was your decision to make and not mine. I lashed out on you and said you were selfish but… I was the one that was being selfish”

Finch turns his eyes back towards Al, his face looks more sorrowful than before, “I’m sorry”

A small smile formed on Al’s face, tilting his head to the side by a few inches, “It ain’t your fault for knowing me more than I know myself”

They leave the conversation at that for the time being. Letting the streets below fill the void of their silence. Both boys focusing their gaze towards the view they got from this height they’re on again. Finch and Albert left speechless at each other’s words.

Albert’s hands unconsciously reach up to his forehead, itching to pick a pimple like earlier. His next words almost got stuck in his throat but he was able to pull through just enough to get to his point, “Well, at the end of the day we uhh… we both fucked up. Fucked our relationship, that’s for sure-”

“Stop picking on your pimples, Al” Finch casually said. The surprise look on Al’s face got Finch to side eye him with a giggle.

Al pulled his fingers away, stuttering in his movements but still continued on his words with more confidence, “What I’m trying to say is… I want to try again as long as you’re willing to”

There was a good few seconds of silence that Finch used to just stare at him. Albert could only wonder what he’s thinking about inside that head, “So we just… what? Forget the breakup ever happened? Move back in together? You know I can’t just do that, right?”

“That’s not what I mean. We don’t need to rush things. I know you can’t do that” Albert said, “Just… let me start by making it up to you? Whatever you want. Just name it”

Finch didn’t respond instantly, letting the silence between them linger for a few more minutes. But it’s deeply agonizing to Albert’s ears. A blank space of two eyes locked in a gaze, and one is obviously dying to get out of it.

“Please, say something” Albert begged. Hands suddenly reaching back up to his face to pick on his pimples again.

With a free hand, Finch reaches towards Al’s hand on his face. He pulls it down to the bars, holding it in place to make sure it doesn’t repeat its mistakes again. The grip was firm, but warm and calming to Albert’s soul. It made him go blank for a good few seconds from being so touch deprived of Finch’s soft hands. He retains his sense of reality when their eyes finally meet again.

With a little smile forming on Finch’s face, he finally answers, “I’d like that very much”

[wydguk]

play date — jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff, FWB!au, college!au

warnings: mentions of sex, kinda toxic relationship?

word count: 4k

summary: You never understood how it was so easy for Jungkook to make people like him. It was so easy to love him — the way his nose scrunched up and his bunny teeth were on display. He had the prettiest heart, and words always failed you when you tried to describe how much you loved him.

note: this is based off of Melanie Martinez’s “Play Date”! I do not own the lyrics in any way, shape or form.

♡ 

If there’s one thing you’ve always known, it’s that you are hopelessly in love with Jeon Jungkook.

It’s always been easy to love Jungkook. You fell in love with him when he showed up to your first lecture half an hour late, his hair dishevelled and his clothes out of place. He just sent a sheepish smile to your professor, who sent him a pointed glare, before taking his seat next to you.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook. What are we doing?” He set his backpack onto the floor and took out his textbook, and you decided right then and there that you liked him. He was the epitome of a classic college boy, with the nicest smile and wide eyes.

“I’m Y/N. We’re just doing the introduction,” you hesitated before pushing your notebook toward him. “You could copy my notes if you want to?” 

Jungkook beams at you, bunny teeth on display. “Thanks!

He sits next to you at every lecture after that.

♡

You loved him when he invited you to your very first college party. Always invested in your studies, and never one to party, it was already February by the time you decided to loosen up a little.

“Y/N! Wanna come to my party this weekend? It’s going to be at my frat house,” Pouting, he tugged your arm, eyes begging you to come. “Please! You don’t even have to drink any alcohol. I just want you to be there! It’s the first time I’m hosting the party, so it’s definitely going to be the best one you’ve ever been to.”

“It’s also going to be the first one I’ve ever been to, Kook. How can I trust your party hosting skills?” You grinned at him, and his eyes narrow, pouting even harder. “Come on! You know how cool I can be, therefore, the party will be cool.”

He wasn’t very good at promoting his “very cool party”, but you had to give him credit for trying. Anything for a friend, right? “Fine, I’ll go.”

That night, you ended up in bed with Jeon Jungkook. You woke up the next morning with bruises on your hips and a pounding headache — and a very naked Jungkook next to you. Later in the afternoon, you and Jungkook established that you were now friends with benefits.

“Okay, so we probably need to set some rules.” you mused, pen already in hand, both of you sitting at your kitchen island. “You have any in mind?” You already know what the rules will be. You can’t catch feelings — but Jungkook doesn’t have to know, does he?

“None of us can catch feelings. If we do, we tell the other person before the situation gets any worse. Also, we have to get tested. You don’t have to write that down, I just wanna make sure we’re clean.” Jungkook said, lazily making his sandwich. “Do you wanna see other people?”

Of course, you don’t. Who else are you supposed to see? The teddy bear in your room? The posters of actors on the street? But you know Jungkook’s popular among the ladies, and you can’t force him to stop seeing them just because you’re sad, lonely and in love with him. “I don’t see people at all. But you can, I don’t mind. Use protection, yeah?”

Jungkook chuckled and handed you a sandwich, happily munching his own. “Are we done? I wanna watch Netflix while you suck my-!”

“Shut up!” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you’re sure the blush wouldn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “We are not done! You still need to sign it or else this contract is useless and you might just fall in love with me.”

Jungkook just grinned at you, stealing your pen and signing haphazardly onto the sheet of paper.

You’d be perfectly fine with it if he fell in love with you.

Too bad your friendship seems to crumble as the years pass you by. You’re both in your third year, and you’re still in love with him, more than you thought was possible.

You wonder if you’re even friends anymore. He stopped hanging out with you, stopped inviting you to his parties, and only called you when he was drunk or horny. The agreement stopped being “Friends with Benefits” and turned into “Booty Call”. But you still come over every time, even though you know he’s not interested in going any further than this and you know you’re in love with him.

The house is always empty when you come over, so it’s always you and him, him and you alone. There’s never much talking, never any conversation, but if this is the only way you can have Jungkook, you’ll take it. You’re always leaving the house as quick as possible, and no matter how much you want to talk to Jungkook, you throw your clothes on when he goes to the bathroom, and by the time he gets out, you’re already on your way home. Whenever you do try, he never really listens, too busy exploring your body to pay attention to what you’re saying.

You’re sick of playing games with him, and only God knows how much you want to be more than just friends. But Jungkook doesn’t know that — so are you chasing after someone who isn’t even running?

It’s two in the morning when Jungkook texts you, asking if he can come over. You agree, and he shows up at your door thirty minutes later with a box of pizza in his hands. It reminds you of your first year in college, when you were really friends, and Jungkook would binge-watch Disney shows with you on Netflix until it was well past midnight. You would wake up to grease stains all over your coffee table and a snoring Jungkook by your side, close to falling off the couch.

“What’s up, Kook? Did you wanna do a re-enactment of us in first year?” There’s hurt in your voice, but over the past few years, Jungkook’s gotten too full of himself to notice how he makes other people feel.

“Nope, Chaeyeon bailed on movie night, so then I asked Soyeon, and then I asked Mina but they weren’t free. Good thing you were! The pizza is still kinda hot, unless you want to heat it up?” Jungkook struts into your apartment like he owns it and flops onto the couch. “Missed your couch. Best place to do things, you know? We can watch TV, play video games, and I can fuck you here!”

Of course, you’re not Jungkook’s first choice. You’re not even his second or third choice. You have never been a priority in Jungkook’s life — this would’ve hurt you two years ago, but you’re not even fazed this time. You’re surprised you’re even a choice in the first place.

“I’m honestly shocked you even considered me. Where would you go if I said no? I bet you have a long, long list of girls who would wanna do this with you.” You’re being childish and you know it, but loving Jungkook is getting tiring. You want to tell him, but if you do, he’ll never speak to you again. This way, you can still have Jungkook, but not in the ways you want to.

“Jealous, baby?” Jungkook laughs, taking a slice of pizza out of the box. “I missed you. We haven’t actually talked in months. You don’t even reply to the memes I send you anymore!”

Is he serious? He must be playing a joke on you. “Jungkook, you basically cut me out of your life. It would be weird for us to talk again.” Did he not ghost you on purpose? Jungkook’s appearance makes you more confused than you should be.

“Cut you out? You mean me not inviting you to my parties? Baby, we’ve known each other so long, you’re practically a VIP,” He sits up, eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you care so much? Our deal not enough for you?”

Will you ever get enough of Jungkook? You can tell he’s hinting at something, and the thought of him knowing how much you feel for him scares you. So you lie, lie like you’ve been doing for the past few years.

“I don’t care, Jungkook. I really don’t give a fuck. Did anyone tell you I gave a shit about you?” You declare this with no expression, hoping he doesn’t see right through you. Apparently it works, because he just reaches for your hand, pulls you onto the couch and stuffs a slice of pizza into your mouth.

He sends you that stupid smirk he uses on all his flings, and you remember that you’re just a fling too, you’re just a toy to him, and the communication between you is little to none.

You’re just a toy to him, and all you’ll ever have with him are play dates.

When Jungkook asks you to stay over, it’s always the best feeling to you. This only happens when he’s feeling particularly drunk and clingy, hands never leaving your waist, even when he’s sleeping deeply, nose buried in your neck. You get to wake up next to him, and since he’s the heaviest sleeper you know, you get to watch the slow rise of his chest and the way his eyelashes rest against his cheeks for the shortest while until his friends start banging their fists on his bedroom door. 

“Wake up, lovebirds! Seokjin made pancakes!” Hoseok hollers, fists heavy against the door. You shake Jungkook awake, smiling softly at the way he throws his arm over his face, eyes trying to adjust to the morning light.

“Pancakes, Kook! I’ll eat yours if you don’t get up.” At this, Jungkook bolts up, pinching your side then grabbing a shirt from his closet. “Kook, do you maybe wanna-” Before you can continue, he grabs your hand and pulls you down the stairs, looking like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

Jungkook’s friends have always been nice to you, even before you and Jungkook started the benefits, so you wonder if they eat breakfast with Jungkook’s other flings. Too shy to really make conversation with anyone, you focus on your plate, missing the way Taehyung and Namjoon motion toward you every so often.

That afternoon, you’re in Jungkook’s room again, the two of you watching another episode of a shitty teen drama on his laptop. Jungkook insists he only watches it to make fun of the characters, but you know he tends to get so immersed in the episodes he actually starts laughing at the cringy jokes and tries to figure out the puzzles.

“I’m bored.” Jungkook pauses the episode and shuts his laptop. “Also, I wanted to try something new. I saw this thing online, it was a list of kinks? Do you wanna try?” He wiggles his brows while trying to wink, and your heart is so full of love for him, especially now that’s he’s talking to you and hanging out with you. You could really get used to this again.

“Let’s play Monopoly first, yeah? Then we can look at that list,” you smile, hoping he agrees. He pulls the box from under his bed, and it’s really dusty. Your heart swoons at the thought of him only playing the game with you, but you remind yourself that you’re just friends who mess around, and nothing more.

You’re curious to know if Jungkook knows what monopoly could mean — how you wish you could make him love you back. Do you care too much about Jungkook? He obviously couldn’t care less about you, but you’re always falling at his feet to please him. You wish it wasn’t this way.

♡

You love Jungkook even when you’re arguing over the dumbest reasons.

Of course, you really have no reason to argue when you’re nothing more than friends with benefits, but your feelings always tend to get the best of you, and you forget he only wants your body and not you.

From the get-go, you knew this agreement between you was doomed. You were in love with him before it even started, and you’re still in love with him now. But why did you stay, knowing all he could give you was friendship, the benefits, and nothing more? How many times has he hurt you, but you still choose to stay? All the empty words you exchanged with him could have been affectionate with someone else if you chose to back out of the agreement — but when it comes down to it, you would always go back to Jungkook.

You entered your apartment an hour ago only to see Jungkook curled up into a ball on your couch, staring blankly at your TV screen, which was playing another episode of Jungkook’s shitty teen drama. He doesn’t notice your presence until you sit down next to him with a glass of water in your hands.

“Did you not leave this morning? I thought you had a lecture at one,” you ask, heart aching at the sight of Jungkook looking so unlike himself. You were used to seeing him prancing around campus and causing chaos with his friends, or at a restaurant with another one of his conquests. It was unlikely for Jungkook to be in your apartment, or to look so distressed and empty, so the fact that he was doing both of these things concerned you, to say the very least.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Jungkook finally looks at you, and his eyes pierce your soul, his glare cold. You’re not seeing anyone, but why does it mean anything to him? He’s with a different girl every night, and he’s never committed to a relationship in the two years you’ve known him. “Jimin told me he saw you on a date with someone at the library.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you try to analyze Jungkook’s expression for any hints of a joke, or amusement, but he’s completely serious. “What is it to you if I am seeing someone else? We’re barely friends, Jungkook.” you mutter, feeling accused. As if you could ever get over him. All you could do was get under him, and there was never any escape.

“When we started this, you said you didn’t see people. Now you’re going around with other guys?” Jungkook huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Way to commit to the contract, Y/N.”

“Are you fucking with me? You’re out with different girls every single night!  And we never said I wasn’t allowed to see other people. I just haven’t been seeing anyone! Is it really that hard for you to believe that I can have a love life too?” You really want to know where this is coming from. Could this be a dare from one of the boys?

“I just don’t like seeing you with other guys! I’m used to calling you my girl around my friends, they practically think we’re dating at this point.” Jungkook stands up, fingers tugging at his hair. It was a stark contrast to the Jungkook you were used to seeing, and his words only messed with your mind as you struggled to piece his anger.

“That’s just it, isn’t it? We’re not dating, Jungkook. And we both know I’m not your girl! Where is this coming from? This isn’t like you,” you’re standing up too, arms crossed with a frown on your face.

“You know what? You’re right. We’re not dating. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Forget about this, I’m leaving.” Jungkook quickly shoves on his jacket, eyes still angry. This is the most confusing argument you’ve ever had with him, and it’s sad to think that this could be one of your longest conversations in the past few months.

“What the hell, Jungkook! You lash out at me for doing something you don’t understand, and when I try to solve it, you try to back out! I never fucking know what you need, or what you want, and yet I still try to satisfy your every whim!” Jungkook already has his shoes on, and he only sends you a heart-wrenching glare before slamming the door shut.

Jungkook doesn’t talk to you after that.

♡

In the silence of your heart and mind, the love you feel for Jungkook is still echoing against the walls, and no matter how many times you tell yourself that you and Jungkook’s deal is essentially over after weeks of no contact, your soul aches to see Jungkook again, to let him hold you in his arms and trash your living room with popcorn and grease stains.

You have come to the conclusion that learning to love Jungkook is so easy, but loving him is the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. Loving Jungkook wasn’t dancing on clouds or cuddling under blankets. Loving Jungkook is walking miles in the rain on the cold and slippery streets or drowning in the deepest parts of the sea with weights pulling you down, but it would always be with his hand in yours. You would do anything the world had to offer if it meant Jungkook would be by your side all the way.

The sudden revelation drops your heart to your stomach and you suddenly feel the need to find Jungkook and finally tell him the truth. You realise having Jungkook only on occasional weeknights will never be enough for you, when you want to sleep and wake up in his arms, and hold his hand as you walk around mindlessly, and meet his parents and charm them into letting you marry their son.

You jump up from your place on the couch, where you’ve gathered all your stuffed toys and blankets to bask in your shame and rush into your room, frantically looking for something presentable to wear. Contemplating on whether you should wear makeup or not, you decide against it. After all, all you’re going to do is tell Jungkook how you feel, right?

You’re about to open the door when the realization of what you’re about to do dawns on you. How can you be sure Jungkook won’t reject you? What if after you confess, Jungkook cuts you out of his life completely, and the only memories you’ll have of him are hazy nights with all the lights turned out, and the last you’ll remember of him is the argument you had? What if you tell him only to find out that he’s met someone else, and he thinks he’s already in love?

Even so, your heart yearns to tell Jungkook how much you love him, and the possibilities of what could happen after are endless. Maybe you might lose Jungkook, but there was a chance you could have him in every way you wanted. You’ll never know if you never try.

Before you can reach for the door handle, there’s a knock on your door, and you rack your brain trying to remember if you ordered anything for delivery. Already in a rush, you pull the door open all the way, expecting to see someone dressed in an Uber Eats uniform, only to be met with a wide-eyed Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Jungkook breathes, as if he’s scared that if he doesn’t tread carefully you’ll disappear. “Are you going somewhere? I just wanted to talk,” His eyes are pleading and hopeful, and you have to force yourself to look away before you get lost in them.

“No, I was just about to see you,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Hands shaking, you close the door and turn around to face Jungkook. “I actually have something I want to tell you.”

“Can I ask you something first?” When you nod, Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh, scratching the nape of his neck. “That night, when I came over with pizza and I asked you why you cared so much about me excluding you from my life. Did you mean it?”

“You mean me not caring at all?”

“Tell me you didn’t mean it,” Jungkook begs. “Please tell me you care.”

“Kook, you know I care. I always care about you and whatever it is you want to have to do with me. Listen, I know we said we wouldn’t bring feelings into this but I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook’s looking at you with that unreadable expression he uses all the time, and your heart starts racing faster, hands slippery with sweat. “I already had feelings for you before we started the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. I know you don’t want to commit to anything, but I just really had to tell you because it was eating me up inside,”

Jungkook’s silent for a few moments until he beams at you, nose scrunched and bunny teeth on display. “What are you trying to say, baby? You have feelings for me?” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his hands around your waist. “Because I’ve been in love with you since first year,”

You raise an eyebrow at this, obviously not believing him. “Yea, you were so in love with me that you went around fucking other girls,” You can’t help but snicker — Jungkook was known for his track record with girls.

“Hey! I’m not kidding! They were all just friends.” he whines, stomping his foot. He looks like an overgrown child, but it really just adds to his cuteness factor.

“Okay, then you were so in love with me that you stopped hanging out with me for your friends,” You still weren’t convinced. “You were so distant, Kook. That’s not love,”

“I didn’t admit I was in love with you until the end of our second year — you were always a constant in my life, and I got so used to having you with me that I didn’t realise how whipped I was for you. So I tried to get over you by ignoring you, which obviously didn’t work. You can ask the boys! I would never stop talking about you so they locked me out of the house for hours.” Jungkook’s pouting again, and you have to remind yourself that this could all be a cruel joke.

Pulling yourself out of his arms, you fold your own arms across your chest, sending him a scowl. “You’re a grade-A asshole, Jeon Jungkook. For months you cut me out of your life and made me think it was my fault. Now you’re saying you’re in love with me? I haven’t forgotten about our argument either.”

“I may have gotten overly jealous?” Jungkook smiles sheepishly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just listen to what I have to say.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you say, “Maybe I should take back my feelings for you,”

“Nope, I’m not letting you. How about we re-introduce ourselves? We can start from the beginning and not have the whole ‘friends with benefits’ agreement,” Jungkook suggests, and you wonder how long he’s thought about doing this.

“Fine. Hi, I’m Y/N and I think you’re really cute.” Jungkook’s cheeks flush the very slightest at this and he cups his face, trying to hide it.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook, and I really want to kiss you,” Before you can say anything, he tugs your hand and kisses you, and the kiss is different from all the kisses you’ve had before. It’s short and sweet, and nothing like the lust-fuelled, messy kisses you used to share. “Let’s go on a date! Right now!”

Laughing, you intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze as hard you can. “You have a whole lot of apologising to do, Jeon.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

♡

You love Jungkook when he’s smashing cake into your face on your first date, then he takes you to play laser tag only to gang up on you with the strangers you’re playing with. And six months later when you meet his parents for the first time, they approve of the engagement and the marriage that you’ve yet to discuss, already coming up with names for their grandchildren. Jungkook’s face looks like a tomato as he’s profusely trying to apologize for his parents, but you’re okay with it, because you have him by your side.

♡

a/n: another jungkook fic arghh i have so many drafts with the other members but i wanted to type this out real quick. by real quick i mean like 3 days and now it is currently 4:26 AM where i am so that is fun

the relationship is kinda toxic hmmm would u guys wanna see mini drabbles of jungkook and y/n healing their relationship together? you can send any asks if u want :)

anyway, thank you very much for reading!! like or reblog if you enjoyed it and feel free to tell me what you think! my dms are always open <3

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

typing help needed: i get rly obsessed with things & have to know everything abt them (astrology, cats, certain fictional characters, etc) & constantly bring them up in conversations. speaking of which, i only really initiate conversations when there’s something specific i want to talk about; i don’t talk to people just for talking’s sake. i’m ambivalent about spending time w ppl. i could go months w/o seeing ppl as long as i could text them & most people are boring to me anyway, but there are types of ppl whose company i never get tired of. i love being around funny, ambitious & intelligent ppl who tell it like it is. really emotional & soft ppl annoy me. stupid ppl annoy me but also amuse me. what annoys me most is when ppl waste my time (n i lowkey feel guilty abt this ask bc it’s so long & unorganized i’m sorry i tried). i’m constantly tempted to prank people/provoke fights but i’m scared of getting in trouble. academic & financial success are extremely important to me. i’ll sacrifice anything for straight As. i put 100% effort into everything i do as long as i’m interested in it (chores? hell no.) but lose steam quickly and slack off when a project is near completed. still, i do whatever i need to to outperform my classmates. the thought of working a 9-5 office job fills me with unimaginable dread because i hate rigid schedules & having to see the same boring people/place every single day. i want to write/draw for a living and/or be a professor, don’t rly have a plan tho i just take opportunities as they come. i live to entertain. i love wearing weird/flashy clothes that attract attention. i’m “the funny one” and “the creative one” in my friend group. i’m an open book in that i’ll answer p much any question honestly. but the intimacy of romantic relationships is hard for me. i hate feeling vulnerable and i’m terrified of rejection. i’ve never confessed romantic feelings to anyone, but i’ll do crazy things for “love.” i got myself a full ride scholarship to a private high school just because someone i liked was going to go there & then did the same thing for a different person for college. i’m confident & insecure at the same time, like i know i’m smart & capable but i worry that other people won’t see that. i have terrible fomo and i feel like i’m losing a race against everyone else my age. i’m pretty opinionated when it comes to politics & v vocal when i disagree w someone unless they have power over me in which case i bitch about them behind their back. i love a good fight but tap out when people refuse to listen to reason. i have over 20000 accounts blocked on twitter. i wish ppl were less sensitive bc i hate trying not to make them upset. i don’t want to make them upset but i hate that i have to act fake nice in order to do that. it happens a lot in my classes when we critique e/o’s work like i have nothing positive to say to u i’m sorry. i’m a deeply angry person but i try to hide it bc despite wanting to not care abt what people think of me i often do & i’m scared they’d hate the real me. anyway i think i’m an NP but no idea about the other 2 letters & enneagram i have no clue i feel like i don’t fit neatly into any of them. thanks in advance for reading all this hogwash !

okay before I read this...how are you getting around the character limit per ask? I’ve seen this a couple times but very inconsistently but anyway I might need to reframe my ask limit as a character limit (which this is technically under although I can’t believe I’m saying this, but much as I hate copying and pasting each part of 7 asks at least that method has paragraph breaks).

Anyway, ESTP, enneagram 3.

- a lot of the “I wish I could be more chaotic but I’m worried about getting in trouble or being seen as less than impressive” stuff here is very in line with how an Ne or Se-dom 3 acts

- hating routine, grabbing opportunities effectively but for impulsive reasons, and putting effort in based solely on interest or succeeding against certain metrics (rather than say, general obligations) are all very Ne or Se dom as well

- the specific examples you gave of seizing opportunities, the fact that you gave specific examples in the first place (this is a good thing; a lot of questions I get have me like....concrete examples? spare a concrete example for the sensor?), the 3-ness of it all, and the fomo all sound far more like high Se than high Ne to me. The focus on external metrics and the weird flashy clothes also have me thinking high Se.

- the caring to the degree you do about other people and their opinions of you is definitely part of 3 (especially since a lot of it is about not getting into trouble or having good grades) but also pretty clearly the Ti-Fe axis; this isn’t strictly being impressive via competence the way many Te-doms do it, but through interpersonal tracks as well.

- the part about arguments is 100% high Ti. I have no idea how you blocked so many people on twitter or why and frankly I’m not sure how that’s relevant, but one of the greatest hallmarks of high Ti and especially aux Ti (it’s the extroversion) is loving arguments and even starting them but the second someone else doesn’t engage with the rules (which can be valid, like being reasonable, but can also include the other person pointing out this is legitimately a matter of opinion) leaving or getting frustrated or doubling down in weird ways.

[wilstudies]

Get a grade 9 in a language GCSE!

Please note:

1. These tips are almost entirely applicable to any AQA language at GCSE. 2. Modern Foreign Languages at GCSE Level is anywhere from A2 to B1 (dependant on the tier and grade) on the CEFR scale, but, there is no official equivalent.

In November 2018, whilst in Year 10, my teacher saw that I was excelling in French, with my extensive knowledge of tenses and idioms. So, she proposed that I’d do the January mocks, alongside Year 11, despite not knowing more than half of the subject content. Then we’d see where I’d go from there.

I followed the AQA exam board, higher paper. Specification. You can find the Kerboodle textbook I used, here.  

Here’s what I did:

Throughout the year, I was also studying the Year 10 content (Theme 1 - Identity and culture) in class.

In my own time, each month I’d cover one or two units, completing the more challenging activities on each page of the textbook. Luckily, each unit was only 4 double-page spreads long.

In January I completed my mocks. This was the first time I had ever sat in an exam hall, so it was really daunting to be doing it with a bunch of kids who were older than me, even though I knew I had enough knowledge. Overall, I got a secure grade 8, in my mocks, despite not knowing half of the course content.

I also did “pre-exam mocks”, two weeks before each exam. These consisted of specimen papers which are notoriously harder, so my results looked almost exactly the same as past papers, which was upsetting as I couldn’t see that I’d actually improved. But practice is practice!

MY ACTUAL GCSE RESULT: 

With a lot of work. I managed to achieve a grade 9 (the top mark, higher than an A*), which was insane. I’m so, so proud of myself, and grateful for all of the teachers that supported me!!!

^Edit from 25/08/2019.

LISTENING

In my opinion, listening is based purely on practice and knowing the exam technique that works for you.

To practice: 

frenchpod101 intermediate listening comprehension

Going through every specimen track and listening activity I could find - pausing it after each sentence, saying it once in French, then translating it into English. I’d do this in the shower, on the way to school, wherever.

Know your vocab!

My exam technique:

In the 5 minutes reading time: underline keywords and themes in the questions. This time goes very quickly, but I’d also try to jot down a few synonyms in the French section too.

Multiple choice questions: the process of elimination; key vocab; negative and positive tonality and opinion words - watch out for negative structures!

Completing the sentences: note down words said in French or translate each sentence into English in your head, then remember it when it comes to writing it down.

French section: fill each sentence with key French words that you hear. Don’t worry about accents, unless it helps you determine the word.

Remember each track plays twice.

READING

The January Mock: I didn’t know much of the course content, so I struggled with the translation. I also circled and placed a question mark near any words I didn’t know, as it was a mock and my teacher would be able to note down any translations for me. I think what boosted my grade, to a 9 for this paper, was knowledge of grammar.

T/F/NM questions are usually a gamble. Just look for explicit information and know your negative formations.

Texts change their minds often: look out for counter-arguments and opposing exclamations

Use the method of elimination for multiple choice: rule out if there’s no mention. Be wary that a text can mention an option, but say it wasn’t that.

Texts often refer to things mentioned prior.

If you know a certain type of texts are your kryptonite (it was the classical stories with dialogue, for me), then download as many of that genre as you can. Understand the way speech and dialogue works, and the structure, before you tackle the vocab.

Many say skim read and don’t read the whole thing, but I found it easier to translate big chunks in my head as I went along and lightly annotate each text, which just comes with practice.

WRITING

Top tip: don’t go any more than 10% over word limits!!!!!!! Teachers say they have to mark all of it - no they don’t. If you do double the word limit, your last few bullet points could come after the cut-off point, cutting off access to half of the marks!!! 

90 WORD - 99 words maximum! About 20-25 words per bullet point.

150 WORD - 165 words maximum! About 75 words per bullet point.

Which brings me to mention, that you must cover every bullet point: those are your content marks, which cover about half the marks of each question.

90 WORD Question (16 marks)

Content - 10 marks: Making sure your writing covers each bullet point enough.

Quality of Language - 6 marks: Using interesting vocabulary, such as “malheureusement”.

Stick to about one page.

If you’re giving an opinion, great, just stop there. If you explain it too much, you risk going over your word limit.

150 WORD Question (32 marks)

Content - 15 marks: Every. Bullet. Point. Detailed.

Range of Language - 12 marks: get in those adjectives, idioms and grammatical structures!

Accuracy - 5 marks: correct basic tense conjugations (present, past, future simple/future proche)

In order to hit all of these I came up with a mnemonic checklist, and it scored me full marks in a specimen paper I did for my teacher! And I made it into a cute phone background, so I’d start to remember it, I still can now, hehe! You can find it here. If that doesn’t work, then download it here.

SPEAKING

Know your question words! (x)

For the roleplay and photocard, my teacher printed off me a load of practice cards in bulk and annotated two or three every day, using the planning techniques mentioned below.

Roleplay - 2 minutes; can be any theme. 

When planning, try to avoid writing out answers, but just keywords and gaps for you to fill in with pronouns or articles etc.

Keep it brief, one sentence per bullet point, but cover each part of each bullet point. 

Photo card - 3 minutes (aim to speak for at least 2). 

Plan with a small spider-diagram of nouns, opinions, anecdotes etc. for each known question. 

Use one or two prepped anecdotes for the prepared questions - e.g. where you went last year, who with, what you did. 

For the unknown questions, keep it short and sweet and fill up any time with opinions and reasoning.

General conversation - 5-7 minutes. 

Lie and make up stories! Be creative and use the words and structures you know.

I was a little extra and I prepared every theme as flashcards. You can’t get away with only revising your chosen theme! 

I made flashcards that could cover several types of questions: I had bullet points of topics and keywords on one side and a sample paragraph on the other. 

Pretty sure I made about 80 flashcards oops.

I also went through the mark scheme and see which areas I could secure marks in and which areas I needed to improve.

VOCAB

Learning vocab is SO important!

I started by making spreadsheets of jumbled word lists from the specification and doing a colour-coded match up. 

You can access a pdf of all of the vocab grids here. There might be the odd word missing due to copy-pasting errors, but if so, don’t stress, just look it up in a dictionary and note it down - sorry in advance!!!

Then with the vocab that I had to look up in a dictionary, I added to a Quizlet and wrestled it into my noggin. 

You can find the Quizlet here.

Remember that:

sauf - except

puisque - since

presque - almost

GRAMMAR

To me, learning tenses was like learning formulae for maths. So find a way to learn rules like that, if it’s easier for you.

e.g. Conditional Tense = subject + (future/conditional stem + imperfect ending)*

*note that future stems are the same as conditional stems.

Know your DRMRSPVANDERTRAMP verbs, and their past participles. These verbs go with ÊTRE and always agree with the subject.

Know your auxiliary and irregular verbs.

MUST KNOW: avoir, être, aller, faire, vouloir

HELPFUL: devoir, pouvoir, vivre, boire, voir, dire, savoir

OTHERS: mettre, prendre, venir, écrire, lire, recevoir

I learnt these by making flashcards, and then brain dumping them on paper over and over again until they stuck - my teacher thought I was insane, madly scribbling away.

Memorise some key structures that can be used in writing and speaking. 

If you want 7+ structures, find them here.

MISC TIPS

Always write notes about improvements and errors in practice papers and mocks.

Find a native french internet friend.

In my opinion, music, movies and TV shows aren’t great for revision. However, if you begin to understand them, they are a great confidence boost.

I highly recommend the Skam France series, which you can find with and without les sous-titres (subtitles) here.

And here’s my french music playlist on Spotify.

MORE ASSISTANCE

I’m happy to offer my assistance to anybody who needs it, pop me a dm or an ask if you think others will find it useful too. 

Here’s some ways I could help:

Finding some resources about a certain topic (videos, worksheets, mindmaps) - I have them all backed up hehe

Sending you some of my past answers

Sending you pdf of my general conversation/irregular verb table flashcards

Marking practice answers

Talking to you in french

Etc. etc.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog to help any others that might find this useful. If any of the links are faulty, please pop me a dm, and I’ll get them sorted asap!! 🥐

-Wil x

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Coffee Au pt 2

PART 3 OF THREE

It was the end of the day, Acylius and Demencia wanted to do nothing more than just sink into one of the comfy seats and doze off but work still had to be done.

 As Flug was cleaning away mugs and other items he could still taste Black Hat on his tongue, lingering in its flavor the apple of Eden, he wanted to bite again, savor him anew but the demon was not exactly famous for being sweet so no doubt the next would be bitter…right?

 “Boy what a day, am I right or am I right tree man!”

 Acylius was silent as he looked over at Black Hat’s empty seat, he’d seen him leave, some work emergency no doubt, money had been left on the table but he’d found himself disappointed that the demon wasn’t still there demanding to be served after hours, crazy as the day had been it had actually been surprisingly fun to have him around.

 “It is strange... “

 “What that he digs you and not me? “

 Demencia teased gently nudging him.

 “Please be serious for one moment, you will not believe this, but I do feel as if I know him from some other life...there were things today that felt... so familiar.”

 Exasperation filling his voice as he walked off to pick up a latte glass that was half full, grumbling they should not order the large if they were not going to drink it all.

 “Oh, like what?”

 “Well, when we kissed after you suggested he could help...”

 Touching his lips as he looked over at the kitchen, whispering

 “It did not feel like the first time.”

 “Pffft seems I was right he wanted to lip lock and suck your soul right out of your-”

 “Demencia, that is enough!” Flug dropped the glass he was holding, it shattered across the floor spilling its cold contents, liquid started seeping through the floorboards, oh dear she realised perhaps she’d pushed a little too far as his eyes lit up and she was dragged forward Darth Vader style only without the throttling . His hand engulfed in cerulean flame, claws extended forward and with a flick she was off her feet hovering, snarling “I am trying to run a coffee shop, not a brothel while we are friends  I do not need you interfering with my love life.”

 In all her years she’d known Acylius, the lizard girl had never seen such a fire as this burning within him, damn Black Hat must have more of an effect than he was willing to admit, rolling her eyes she responded “You think you could put me down, also you old fart what love life, you’re like fifty and have boned like what …once and that was with someone who was for hire to play as Black Hat, I mean I’ve offered cause who doesn’t wanna climb that tree and sit on your branch, but you were as flustered as a sinner in church.”

(Remember demon so not like human 50 XD )

 “Woman…argh!” Acylius tried to keep a straight face, but honestly he could never stay mad at her, a chuckle left him as the demon shook his head and set her down

“You are hopeless.” “Yeah, yeah I know I’m a lost cause, but why is it so hard for you to believe he likes you?” She returned while straightening out her uniform. “Please, I do not think he would find a suitable partner in a barista who tortures people for information on the black market… holy…” Acylius went quiet and blinked looking at Demencia “Is that why the Black market is called that! My alternative profile is in that world...I need a drink ...am I working for him and not…know what no this is too much too soon, I am going downstairs, I am going to drink and torture that man until he is a bloody pile.” Demencia gave him a deadpanned expression in response “One: it is not for you to decide who he wants to bone and two: you seriously only just figured that out, you’re smart but sometimes really dumb.”

 Acylius sighed and just walked off hearing her call out after him saying “And what about this!” It was easy to imagine her gesturing towards the spilt coffee “You clean it up, ASSBUTT!” Demencia huffed; she should never have let him watch Supernatural, mocking his sentence in a whiny voice before getting to work and only smiling as she swore she could hear the muffled voice of him saying “I heard that!” Pffft of course he had, demon senses and all, it was no surprise and yes it probably wasn’t wise to try and interfere with her friends love life, especially when it left her to clean up duty instead of getting to play just how long  can we make our victim scream.

 Picking up the pieces of broken glass she paused looking out the window, wondering up on that high hill where Hat Manor sat, what the old demon was doing now, heh maybe he was even day dreaming of Acylius, that’d be pretty adorable.

 Hat manor stood silhouetted, painted on a sea of blue and purple, diamonds scattered over its surface, there was no moon tonight, though this is not what we are here to do though, while the night sky held its beauty the home held its secrets deep under the foundations. Down winding stair cases of stone, walls lined with torches that came alight as Black Hat passed them with bright emerald flames leading to a room, large extravagant, doors locked with spells reacting to his presence, opening out to show the pristine display with a red carpet. Glass cases that remained in a constant polished state appeared liquid with candle light reflecting off their surfaces, to many people these items would be considered odd in the sense they to anyone else held absolutely no value…but to Black Hat they were treasures and when each one was touched he could remember a small moment attached to each and every one of these things… Recalling how his Acylius had taught him to use a barbers blade for shaving, he himself did not grow stubble or the such unless he wanted to and he had suspected the same of his Doctor, who liked to do human things as simple as that.

It was not that he’d allowed Black Hat to shave his face that had made the memory but that he’d trusted him so close to his throat with a blade, it may not have killed him even if he’d wanted it to slit it.

Though that was the thing with anyone else he would have hacked them to pieces and laughed, in that moment he’d slowly brushed the razors edge along his flesh, intently focused on the task at hand, leaving him mesmerized at just how intimate a simple act could be and how it felt to be trusted by him.

The demon had not been down here in some time, that did not mean what was here had lost any meaning, no on the contrary  at times being here caused so much pain he could hardly bare it.

 Walking slowly through this world of past wonders, there were mannequins in neat rows wearing suits, everyday clothing to swim wear and pyjamas, some clothing items pressed into picture frames, stopping in front of one case in particular a small quirked at the corner of his lips, on a cushion sat an old tattered Bear, blue after some chemical accident when Acylius had been a child or so the doctor had told him. This was kept for more than one reason, one Acylius had loved it dearly and two even as a grown demon he’d found him sometimes napping with the damn thing tucked under his arm, apparently you could never be too old to enjoy a favored gift from the past, claws making soft tapping sounds on the glass.

“What an odd name for a child’s toy…Five o Five…then again there is that silly old bear named Winnie the Pooh…”

 He said to himself in passing thought.

Just being here already felt as if a hand had reached in around the void that passed for his heart and was slowly crushing it, glancing over at the beautiful cello he and Flug had played together, the intimacy of creating music on the same instrument so passionately had near rivaled their passion within the sheets…before you wonder yes Black Hat even had their four poster royal Georgian bed perfectly made as the doctor would have wanted it.

 Lab equipment that museums would beg to have, first edition books that could very well be the only remaining copies of the texts within some of them…yes he’d saved practically everything, did it perhaps make him obsessed…incapable of letting go, you might think so and yes it probably was the case.

He himself could not forget the way the barista had kissed him, it was a perfect match to the way his Acylius performed such affectionate acts, the same passion a memory so real and tactile rising to the surface and layering perfectly to match the movements of want. Thinking back on this afternoon as he’d sat there sipping his hot chocolate, listening at times to the inane conversation of others and hearing the name of the Café he’d failed to read the name of upon entry in favor of warmth than the cold weather. He stared at one dark oak closet a mannequin stood in there locked away, blood stained clothes, the salt of tears within the collar, even a beast could weep when its heart was broken, shoulders tensing just at the minor scent of iron and acid he adverted his gaze. Could that Barista really be Acylius Flug reborn, the man who’d lay dying in his arms , promising him he’d find him amongst the stars…rambling about artists who place their soul upon the canvas, full of hope and pain, madness full of splendid wonder and final words being of love until  there were none. Kisses upon lips that no longer held their warmth as a mournful cry left him whimpering like a child lost in the wilderness of the vast world.

 Acylius’s body no more than a limp doll that had lost its light and as with all demonic forms he turned to smoke and ash washed away with a tender breeze littered with embers while all he could do was watch.

 Even though he had barely understood what his lovers last message had been, for years he’d sought out painters who favoured the night skies, though none matched the pure emotion of which Flug had spoken until one Starry Night in France just outside the Ravoux Inn he came across such an artist. A rough looking creature really with a missing ear, in fact he’d nearly passed him until this man had grabbed his arm and Black Hat had at first thought him mad until he spoke of a spirit tall and pale, scars and ears not human and eyes so blue no matter the blend of colours he’d tried to use the ever changing hue had been impossible to match.

 Up the stairs of that humble place the artist called home he entered, moonlight pouring through an open window, curtains swaying ever so delicately behind the easel sat a canvas not long since painted on, just as promised in thick oil paints of swirling night time wonders, blacks, blues bright shining yellows in a myriad of hues there stood Acylius eyes closed within the heavens.

 “I have dreamt about this man yet I do not know what sins I have committed to bring devils and spirits at my door!” Black Hat given him a look before replying “Even Angels it would seem have mercy on a fallen devil.” He’d without second thought left a fortune upon the old bed in the artists room and taken what was rightfully his, news of his death had been reported not but a few days afterwards which even in the demons opinion was a great tragedy.

 Now on the wall here it hung still years later, framed in gold with a bench for him to rest upon, other pieces at either side by Flugs hand were portraits and sketches of Black Hat…but this one in the center had been a gift from the beyond , a promise that he was coming back.

That barista had to be him, had to be his Flug; the café was named after a painting no one but he and the painter knew about. Could it be, he’d finally truly found him amongst the stars.

(this is a poor version of the Artists work I was inspired by, especially if you figure out who I was talking about...but as my own work I like it XD)

[samsonet]

Silver Dreaming (3/6)

Do Not Disturb shuts off automatically at six in the morning. Raihan regrets this when he’s woken by the sound of a million text messages.

There are rules when it comes to messaging. One of those rules is that you don’t text people before nine a.m. unless it’s an emergency. Raihan glances at the notifications and finds nothing urgent about them. He’s not in the mood for this right now.

He leaves his phone on the bed and heads into the hallway. There’s a pot of coffee ready, and the scent fills the air like petrichor.

Nessa probably made it, like usual. She’s the best.

When Raihan arrives in the living room, coffee in hand, he finds Nessa doing her morning stretches as she usually does. Her hair is tied in a loose bun. She’s wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants she’d brought over last night to sleep in. She looks normal, like she’s not a supermodel and gym leader in her day jobs.

(Sonia is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably still asleep. No need to wake her; university doesn’t start again for another two weeks.)

“Wanna join me?” Nessa asks, pushing her legs into a perfect split.

Show off.

“You know I can’t do what you do.”

“You can do something basic. Don’t you stretch before you train?” She looks up at him, her eyes calm and deep. “It might be the last time we get the chance, Rai. Please?”

With a sigh, he gulps the rest of his coffee and sets the mug out of the way. Then he sits across from her and pulls one arm in front of his chest.

One, two, three…

Nessa says, offhandedly, “Milo taught me about thinning the other day.”

“Milo… taught you… about thinning?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s a gardening thing. When you’ve got a bunch of seedlings together, sometimes you have to uproot some so the others have more space to grow.”

“Ah. So you’re saying that it might be time for a certain golden flower to get uprooted so a certain water lily has space, right?”

“It’s not like that, it’s — I mean…” Sighing, she pulls up one knee and pushes against her leg. “You leaving would really shake up the league. I stayed up last night thinking about it. I’ll be fine, I think. I’m flexible.”

You’ll be more than fine, Raihan thinks. You’ll thrive.

Being flexible her thing, the way weather is his. It’s how she wins battles and how she wins at life. She moves through any situation like water, and his absence won’t make that any different.

He pulls up his leg, copying her pose. One, two, three...

She continues. “I wanted to be Hulbury’s gym leader since I was six years old. I wanted to be a model from the time I was fifteen. I wanted to be close to Sonia and Milo and you since the day I met you all. And I get to have all of that, because I’m flexible.”

“And now you’ll get even more. Congrats, Ness. You’ve earned it.”

She leans forward, stretching her back. “Did I, though?”

Come on, Ness, don’t say it like that.

“Aw, are you having doubts? Come on, it’s supposed to be my identity crisis here.” He says it with a grin, like it’s all a joke. But Nessa isn’t laughing.

“You wanted to be champion when you were a kid, didn’t you? Instead, you ended up a gym leader. You’ve just been treading water for the last ten years. I always knew you’d be heading to a bigger pond someday — to a place where you could really stretch your legs. I would just be taking advantage of that.”

Treading water. A bigger pond.

The league is supposed to be a place where dreams come true, if you’re strong enough, if you’re good enough. Everyone’s dreaming of something as they step in the stadiums.

It’s been a long time since Raihan has really thought about his own dreams.

What does he want? Not as the gym leader of Hammerlocke, not as the potential champion of Alola. Not as Leon’s rival or as Nessa’s friend.

What does he want?

To beat Leon?

To have battles where he can fully show off what his Pokémon can do?

He’d wanted to be Galar’s champion at one point, sure, but his goals aren’t as concrete anymore.

He wants validation. Adoration. Respect.

Will he get that in Alola? Does he honestly get that here?

Nessa leans to the side, almost bent over double. Raihan tries the same. He’s pretty sure he heard his back pop.

One, two, three...

“I think you should go,” she tells him. “Thin out the dandelions. Make some space for the golden flowers to grow like they’re supposed to.”

*

At seven-thirty he can’t pretend to be asleep anymore, so he checks his phone and gets ready for the day.

Piers was right about how quickly the news would spread. On Chattr, the words Hammerlocke and Alola Champion are trending. All his accounts are getting pinged.

It feels like everyone who’s ever had his number has sent something. His mum is mad that she had to find out about this from social media. Gordie and Milo give congratulations. Kabu and Melony ask if he’s really going. The reporters he’s given his number to — the ones he usually depends on to set the narrative he wants — are asking for a comment.

He apologizes to his mum and copy/pastes a “No comment as of now” to the reporters. He’ll reply to everyone else at lunchtime.

A new message pops up. It’s from Camilla.

Angry fans outside the stadium. Disguise?

He’ll take her word for it.

Raihan digs through his closet and brings out The Outfit.

It’s a league staff uniform, complete with a hat and sunglasses. Every gym leader has a couple of these uniforms, specifically tailored for them. Nobody looks twice at a lowly staff member, after all.

Raihan puts it on, tucks his hair under the cap, and slouches a little to hide his height. He puts his usual clothes in a duffel bag.

Passing by Nessa in the living room, he waves goodbye.

*

True to Camilla’s text, there is a crowd outside the gym. They’re chanting something, but he can’t quite make out what it’s supposed to be. He spots a sign reading OUR DRAGON TAMER and another that reads YOU BELONG TO HAMMERLOCKE.

Nobody seems to notice that their dragon master is standing there among them.

Raihan catches the attention of one of the fans, a young teen with an orange bow in her hair.

Making sure his sharp tooth doesn’t show, he asks: “What’s goin’ on?”

“You haven’t heard?” She stares at him with wide eyes. “Raihan got scouted by the Alola league! He’s leaving by the end of the year!”

“Really? That’s news to me. Has he confirmed it himself?”

“Well, no, but it only got leaked last night. Still! He’s leaving! Can you believe it? Like, I don’t have any problems with Alola — I’m half-Alolan, myself, actually — but it’s like, don’t they have any strong trainers there? Why do they have to take our gym leader?”

As much emotional distance Raihan tries to keep between himself and his fandom, there’s something about the sincerity in the girl’s words that makes him pause. He was born and raised in Hammerlocke, after all. He’s its representative, its guardian. The people here have watched him grow; some have even grown beside him. One could say he’s like a brother, almost—

A blond woman gestures passionately in his face.

“Right?” She doesn’t seem to realize (or care?) that she’s interrupting a conversation. “They’ve got to have a hundred good trainers over there, but Leon only has one rival! What are we supposed to do without him?”

He sucks in air through his teeth.

He may be Hammerlocke’s older brother, but his family will always be more enamored with the cool kid from down the street.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he says, and pushes through the crowd toward the gym.

*

He takes his time changing in the locker room.

It would be a lie to say that the fans’ words didn’t bother him. Leon has been part of his life ever since he was a kid; when Raihan does interviews, it’s only a matter of time before he gets a question about him. Their rivalry is a big part of Raihan’s public image, maybe even the biggest part. The weather manipulator, the fashion icon, the selfie-obsessed influencer, the history geek — all are forgotten in favor of the label Leon’s rival.

He loves Leon, but there’s resentment there, too. That resentment came years ago, when Raihan realized that there was nowhere in Galar he could go to get away from Leon’s face.

Alola, on the other hand...

Alola is a warm region. There, they have an endless summer. Even when it rains, the sun is still shining. He’ll be happy there. He will.

Even if he has to leave two of his most trusted partners behind, it would be worth it, right?

It had to be.

Finally, Hammerlocke Gym Leader Raihan emerges in full uniform.

That’s the signal for his gym trainers to acknowledge him, so they do. Sebastian gives him the day’s weather forecast for the Wild Area. Camilla passes along a message from the gym’s sponsor. It’s all normal, routine things.

They’re in one of the training rooms when he decides to tell them.

“Aria?”

“Yes, Leader Raihan?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

And good old Aria, cautious as ever, says, “That would depend on the favor.”

She’s always been the sensible type, even from her earliest days at the gym. Out of the three, she’s the most skilled and the most dedicated. Raihan doesn’t play favorites, so he can admit that.

“I would like to ask you to care for Sandaconda and Duraludon for a while,” he says. “I can’t bring them to Alola.”

His trainers look at him with near-identical expressions of anxiety.

“I… Of course I will care for them,” Aria says. “I presume you are… truly leaving, then?”

He puts his hands in his pockets. There’s a weight on his chest, but even with deep breaths, he can’t dislodge it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

Sebastian rushes forward and hugs him. He’s got tears in his eyes. Seb’s always been sentimental like that.

Raihan allows the hug, gently patting his back.

Then, cautiously, Camilla and Aria join in the hug, too. It’s unprofessional of them, Raihan thinks, but in this case, it’s forgivable. They’ve been a part of his life for years. It’s natural that he’s going to miss them.

He doesn’t try to comfort them. He’s not sure he can, honestly.

What he finally says is, “I’ll have to tell Alola’s chairman by tomorrow. Keep it quiet for now, okay?”

*

The rest of the day passes quietly. Solemn, almost. Everyone’s acting like he’s going to die. Even his phone doesn’t provide a distraction: his notes are full of people tagging his accounts in the hope that he’ll give them the smallest hint of what he’s doing.

On the way home, he stops by the grocery store and buys a Pinap berry. He poses with it in front of the gym and takes a selfie, posting it with the caption Tropical.

Then he sets his phone to Do Not Disturb and lets the internet do its thing.

*

Hours later, Raihan is woken by the sound of someone pounding on his door.

He blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s one in the morning. Whoever’s knocking, they had better have a good reason for waking him up.

Raihan pulls on some trousers and shambles to the door, opening it up to find —

“Leon?”

Huh.

The champion of Galar looks like a mess. He’s wearing his usual uniform but without the cape. His hair looks ruffled, but less in the sexy windswept way and more like he’d just been thrown out of a hurricane. He looks tired.

Leon pushes inside the flat, because Raihan has never been able to stop him, and asks “Is it true?”

“What are you doing here so damn early?”

“It’s the only time I’ve got in the next three days. Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you’re leaving. To be the Alolan Champion.”

Raihan locks the door and leans against it, holding his arms loose at his sides. “I haven’t officially decided. But it looks like it, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“Wasn’t aware I needed your permission, mate.” He laughs, casually, like it’s more of their mid-battle teasing.

But Leon seems to think differently.

“Well, then,” he says, gritting his teeth, “if you believe you’re champion material, then why don’t you prove it right now and battle me?”

And Raihan says —

Well —

“No.”

This seems to leave Leon speechless. He draws back, golden eyes darting toward Raihan’s face and then just as quickly looking away.

“Why not?”

“Mate, it’s one in the bloody morning. My partners are tired. I’m tired. And what are you thinking of getting from this, anyway? Do you think that if you beat me, I’ll change my mind? Because we both know I’m going to lose.”

“You might win this time,” Leon mumbles, but it’s half-hearted and they both know it.

Raihan sighs. “How about this, mate. Why don’t I get us both some water and we can sit down and talk about things, like adults?”

He steps forward, toward the kitchen. Leon follows like a lost Yamper.

They’d left the Leon Jar out earlier. Raihan quickly palms it, sparing a glance to make sure the man himself didn’t notice it. When he gets to the kitchen, he shoves it on top of the fridge.

At last, he sits them down in the living room. They’re on opposite sides of the same couch. “So. You have a problem with me leaving?”

Leon wrings his hands. He doesn’t show that kind of nervousness in public, Raihan notes absently. He can’t. A champion has to be confident and alert at all times. But he wrings his hands, now, when they’re alone, when Raihan is the only person who can see it.

“I don’t… Rai, be honest with me. Am I boring you?”

“What?”

“When we’re battling. Am I boring you? I-I try to come up with something new every time, to challenge you, but if it’s not enough we could — we could do something else. I could talk to Rose, ask him if we could try doubles for our next match—”

“Leon.”

This makes him stop. He looks up, and his golden eyes look very lost.

Raihan sighs. “Leon, it’s not about you. This was entirely my decision, alright? I’m not dissatisfied here, I just — I want...”

He wants his own kingdom. He wants to use Z-Moves again. He wants Leon to be happy for him, to stop staring at him with that expression.

Curse his beautiful eyes.

“I wanna spread my wings a bit. Try something new. It’d be nice to live in a more relaxed region, you know? Maybe I’d get to battle without having being treated like a feral Obstagoon.”

“You don’t have to battle like that now. We could come up with something—”

“And maybe I’m tired of being second place. You ever think about that?”

Leon grimaces. He hangs his head, and the brim of his hat covers his eyes.

Raihan really doesn’t know why he’s upset. Leon is the one who wins, after all. He won Chairman Rose’s approval. He won the champion title. He’s won every battle he and Raihan have ever had since they were teens. He’ll be fine.

So why isn’t he acting like it?

“You are leaving because of me.” Leon holds up a hand to cut off any interruption. “I mean, I hear what you’re saying about wanting to get stronger. I want you to get stronger too! But it’s just — I’m the reason you feel so restless here, right? Because I’m the champion, and you have to always hold back to make me look good. I couldn’t figure out a way to fix that, a-and now you’re leaving. Just like Sonia did.”

Arceus.

It takes a special kind of conceit to expect a rival to stay close forever, even if they never win. It takes a special kind of conceit to blame oneself for their leaving.

But maybe part of it is Raihan’s fault, for letting things get this far. For diving headfirst into their rivalry, for acting as King Leon’s greatest knight. Being champion means you’re limited in who you can spend time with. It’s not like Leon has any other close friends.

Raihan moves forward, pulling Leon into a hug. His rival hugs back, tightly, like he’s afraid Raihan will leave right this minute if he lets go.

In a year, maybe, they’ll meet again, champion to champion. Maybe they’ll have an exhibition match. Maybe Raihan will even win. Either way, if he leaves, their relationship will never be the same.

He pats Leon’s back, rubbing small circles like he’s comforting a kid brother. “Listen. It’s not like you’ll be all alone. Oleana’s planning for Nessa to be your new rival. You like Nessa, right?”

“She’s okay.” There’s a pout in his voice. “She’s not you, though.”

“Give her a chance, yeah? And, you know, it’s not like Sonia left you, either. I literally saw her yesterday.” Two days ago? Another reason not to have conversations at one in the morning. “She’s following her gran’s footsteps. If you told Rose you were studying Dynamaxing, you could probably see her whenever you wanted.”

“I’ve tried that. She won’t battle me.”

“She’s a grad student, she doesn’t have time for that. There’s more to friendship than battles, anyway. Why don’t you ask what she’s studying? Maybe she’s got info about some Pokémon you’ve never seen before.”

Leon hums an acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything. Raihan lets the conversation lapse.

They hold each other, quietly, sharing their warmth.

In the silence, Raihan’s thoughts turn to Professor Kukui. A guy that obsessed with moves and leagues has to be a strong trainer, right? He fought Lance, after all. He must be tough.

Is he as tough as Leon?

He thinks about asking for a battle. Just a practice match, just a way to test the waters. Testing himself, to see if he really is champion material. See if he can put up a good enough fight.

“Rai?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah?”

“I think I’m done. Thank you.”

Leon lets go. Raihan lets him go, lets him pull away, lets the sun slip out of his hands.

His (soon-to-be-former?) rival stands, one hand smoothing over his hair.

“I know you said you don’t want to battle, but can we go to your stadium anyway? Charizard is going to miss Duraludon. I want them to have a chance to hang out before you guys go.”

Leon doesn’t know, does he.

Raihan makes a mental note for Aria to let Duraludon train with Leon.

He says, “Let me get my things ready. Then we can go.”

[lexstovall]

unsaid.

WHO: Lex Stovall and Amira Rouhani

WHAT: my heart hurts

WHEN: 8/21, late night

LEX: 

Even despite her casual conversation through text messages with Amira, it was still hard to look past the glaringly obvious sign that at the first sign of any sort of trouble, imagined or no, Amira had gone back to her ex. Lex couldn't blame her for her insecurities. She was sure that if the situation was reversed, she would have done something similar, though not with an ex. Which was really the root of the matter, wasn't it?

All that to say that she had been so focused on trying to unravel what she really felt for the submissive and pull through the threads of why it had hurt so much that things such as sleep had gone by the wayside yet again. As it tended to do for Lex.

Staring at her computer, chin resting in the palm of her hand, her eyes felt as if they were glazing over as she looking through the medical terminology she was going to have to sort out later. Clicking away from the program, she pulled up some music to hopefully help wake her up a little. She pulled her headphones from the jack and turned the volume down a little, just in case someone knocked on the door or called her for an emergency. Her attention went to the paperwork in front of her--- and she heaved out a sigh. Late night again.

AMIRA: 

Even though they might be talking amicably now, Amira knew that she had a long way to go to earn Lex's trust back. And considering that the doctor had told her to try harder, she also knew that she didn't have to worry about overwhelming her. Since that night, her brain had been flowing with ideas, rapidfire through her brain until Rosana told her to shut up. Fortunately, the idea she had settled on was something she hadn't told her sister, especially because she knew that Rosana would tell her not to.

Cooking had never been a strong suit of Amira's. Ever since the trauma in her childhood, it was something that terrified and frustrated her in equal parts. But she remembered the way Lex's eyes had lit up when they had had Persian food at Celebration Fest, and she wanted to recreate it. Something that they shared, from before things went awfully.

Of course it did not go well, and only a third of the food that she had planned on making was salvageable. Even after she cut off the burnt parts, it didn't exactly look overly appetizing, but it tasted good. The food looked pitiful in the basket that she had bought for the occasion, barely filling half of it, but Amira also knew that trying again wouldn't change the outcome. So she simply took the basket with her to the hospital and headed for Lex's office. Hovering outside the door for a moment, she shyly knocked, waiting for a reply. The basket shook in her hands, and she was suddenly worried that maybe this brought pathetic to a whole new level.

But it was too late to back out now.

LEX: 

And of course, because Lex could never get a moment's rest in the hospital, she took another deep breath and looked up at the door, willing whoever it was to go away and leave her to at least getting her paperwork finished. It was probably someone for consultation or an appointment or--

Swallowing the grumbling noise in her throat, she called for the person to come in, attention focused on the papers in front of her. Lex didn't even look up as the door opened and the footsteps approached. Going through the options of who it might be in her head, she settled on one of the interns that had taken to just showing up often as of late. "Jennings, I have a lot of work to do, as you can see, so please just tell me which patient it is that's causing issues and why you and the nurses cannot handle this on your own. It's been an hour and I know you're--"

She looked up then and cut herself off, looking bashful. "Amira." Her tone softened immediately from the annoyed, authoritative one it had taken on just before.

AMIRA: 

The sharp voice that was directed at her made her flinch internally, but Amira knew that she wasn't the intended recipient. Whoever Jennings was though... she didn't envy the person. But the look on Lex's face when she realized it was her made her insides warm, and Amira managed another shy smile. "Sorry to drop in like this but.. I brought you some food. I know that you tend to forget and I wasn't sure if you were in surgery or not. I was just going to leave it here but.. you're here too. So."

She trailed off slowly, a slight blush on her cheeks as she set the basket on the edge of the surgeon's desk. "It's... not very pretty, but I promise it tastes good. I tried to copy the recipe as well as I could." Even though it had been almost thirty years, Amira remembered standing on a stool in the kitchen next to her mother, watching the spices melt into the food and the smell of homemade food filling the air.

"You said you expected more effort so... more than tacos and a flower." She was nervous to meet Lex's eyes. She couldn't understand the magnitude of Amira doing this for her, but explaining it seemed cheap. So instead she just fidgeted lightly before remembering the other part of her gift. "Oh, and.. this is for you too. It's.. kind of dumb but seems useful?" She handed the wrapped package to her, a scrub cap with realistic hearts printed on the fabric. "To match your tattoo."

LEX: 

All Lex could do in reaction was just.. blink. She had said she expected more than food and flowers, and here she was with more food-- Herself, instead of a delivery person. And a gift. Raising an eyebrow, she reached for the scrub cap and lifted it to get a good look at it. A little smile played on her lips, but she made sure the rest of her face gave nothing away. "I have a set of scrubs this'll look good with, thank you. You absolutely did not have to buy me this."

She mused and looked to the basket, another raised eyebrow as the words registered that she made it herself. Standing up and moving around the desk to open the basket, Lex couldn't help her small laugh. "It's not pretty, no."  Glancing to the side, she tried to gauge what exactly Amira was doing-- or how this was going to go.

She gave herself a moment to weigh the options laid out. "I haven't eaten yet, not today. So I appreciate it. Why don't you join me?"

AMIRA: 

Amira tried not to shift her weight as Lex examined the cap. Other than the small twitch of her lips, her face was blank, and Amira wasn't sure what to make of it. But she thanked her for it and that made her heart skip a beat a little. The blush came back in full force as Lex peeked into the basket and laughed. Ducking her head, she hoped it hid some of her embarrassment as Lex seemed to decide what to do.

The offer to join was unexpected, but still welcome and Amira paused before nodding. "I'd like that. There's.. well, there's only enough for you I think, but I ate so I'm not that hungry, but I don't mind staying. I'd like to," she repeated, her voice the tiniest bit unsteady. "You know, if you make a habit of not eating, I'll just have to keep cooking for you."

LEX: 

All of this still felt so much like a mistake. Like this was going to just end with her heart completely shattered, but she had to push on. Swallowing against those feelings, she nodded and gestured to the couch. "Make yourself comfortable, then." The shake in Amira's voice was not lost on her, but she tried to push it away and not let it influence her.

Instead, she focused on pulling the food out of the basket and place it onto one of the plates she had sitting on top of the mini-fridge beside the couch. "Please. I'm fine-- I've just been a bit busy today is all. Lots of files and paperwork. Making sure the recordings of the surgeries get sent off to the transcriptionist, blah blah." She waved her hand and sat down, beside Amira, and started to pick at the food.

"Do you need to leave soon?"

AMIRA: 

Amira nodded and perched herself on the couch, remembering how it was only a week ago that she had been kneeling right there as punishment. How Lex had fixed her nose. How her nose had been hurt in the first place because of Amira's own stupidity. But she shook those thoughts out of her mind as Lex pulled out the food, not looking at how ugly it looked and just at Lex's profile. "Still, busy or not, you can still eat while you work. Trust me, I'm an expert," she said with a half-grin. "If you need delivery, I can always stop by. Or I'm sure there's interns too," she added quickly.

At Lex's question, Amira shook her head. Things had slowed down a bit at the office fortunately, and while the criminal justice system never slept, most of her cases were on the backburner while the DA's office and the police conducted their investigations. "I'm good for tonight. Unless you're too busy."

LEX: 

Lex's focus was entirely on the food, and she could feel Amira's eyes on her and tried to ignore the way her heart leapt in her throat. Instead she tried to focus on the food. It did taste good, and she was grateful for that. There was still the hint of burnt she could taste, but it wasn't too bad. She gave her a soft laugh, and shook her head. "I'm fine, Amira. You don't need to worry about me." Part of her wondered if she would eventually repeat the things she'd said over text and her heart started to beat faster at that thought. Whether that was anxiety or excitement, she couldn't tell.

Part of her also wished this was just about the sex. Cause then she could just forget the food, forget the worry in Amira's eyes when she said she hadn't eaten, and just fuck her right here on the couch. She had to physically shake that thought out of her head. Playing it off, "I'm.. I do have some work, yes. I'm busy tonight. I'll.. be here overnight no matter what I do anyways. So. Stay as long as you want."

AMIRA: 

Amira tilted her head but didn't push. It was clear that Lex wasn't comfortable with the idea of someone being concerned about her, and it made her sad. What kind of relationships had she had, where people didn't worry about how clearly skinny or sleep deprived she was. "I don't need to, but I still do," she replied honestly.

But she didn't say anything more than that, simply letting Lex eat without trying to bother her. That wasn't the purpose of this visit and if she came away from it with Lex feeling uncomfortable, then it would have backfired immediately. "Are you sure it's okay if I stay? I won't.. I mean, I won't bother you but I don't want to be a distraction," she said. There was a tension that hovered over them and she couldn't tell if it was a good kind or bad kind, but Amira knew that if given the option, she would stay with Lex if possible. "When will you be able to rest?"

LEX: 

Her inhale was slow, trying to ease off the initial surprised reaction. Why the hell was Amira trying so hard? She shifted a bit in her seat and kept focusing on the food. She stayed quiet while she finished and then set her plate and napkins aside.

After all of that was taken care of, she finally, finally looked at Amira directly and gave her a more full smile. "It was delicious, Amira. Thank you. Again. I really do appreciate it." It felt so fucking formal and the pretense made her smile falter, but she widened it purposefully when she realized it might be read wrong. "It's okay. I.." She let out a soft humming noise as she thought over her schedule. "It's mostly just paperwork tonight, and scheduling calls to take tomorrow morning. Depending on how fast I can take care of the clerical work, I should be able to get a few hours before my surgery tomorrow morning. That'll be about six or seven hours, if all goes well. Then rounds, then another-- I'm very busy, Amira. Sleep is.. hard to come by."

AMIRA: 

There was the flash of surprise again, and it made Amira's heart ache. That a simple gesture of concern could throw her off so much. Lex deserved so much more than that, but to say so would only make matters worse. She couldn't force Lex to believe that she cared about her, but she would keep acting in a way that would make it almost impossible to refute, even if she didn't want to believe it.

The way Lex turned to her and thanked her was so stiff and polite, that it almost felt like a child going to their best friend's house and thanking their friend's mom for dinner. It didn't feel right, but they would get there. Amira had to believe they would because if they didn't, then... she didn't want to think about that alternative. The Domme recounted her schedule and she frowned at hearing it. "It's not healthy, Lex," she insisted. "You're a doctor. You know how bad the effects of sleep deprivation can be. How can a hospital ask people to stay awake for 36 hours at a time when you're the ones who are telling everyone how important it is to get 8 hours a night? That's complete bullshit." The words exploded out of her and she immediately quieted, chastised. "You, more than anyone, deserve to rest."

LEX: 

There was no hesitation when Amira immediately when into a tirade, so there was no hesitation in Lex reaching out and touching her hand. She paused as her fingers brushed against Amira's knuckles, and then decided to just fucking commit. Her fingers curled around the back of her hand and squeezed. "I will be okay. I've been doing this for years. I'd much prefer staying busy than being in my head. Especially-- as of late." This time her smile was more natural, easy.

"I get as much sleep as I possibly can, but this is my life. I'm one of five neurosurgeons in New Eden, and we get patients from the entire northeast sometimes. It happens. I knew what I was getting into. And I know that it will be bad for a while until I get the position I want." Her thumb ran across Amira's knuckles, hoping to quell that worried fire in her eyes. This time when she spoke, she tried to be more reassuring, with a softer tone. "I'll make sure to eat more tomorrow and sleep an extra hour or two when I can instead of finding more work to do. Okay?"

AMIRA: 

Amira faltered as Lex reached out to touch her hand, hesitating briefly before grasping it completely. Her fingers were slightly cool against her own, but squeezed firmly. "I still don't like it," she groused petulantly. She understood how sleep could be elusive. In the years after her own tragedy, Amira could barely sleep if Rosana wasn't nearby, and even then, it was never restful. It took almost a decade before she was able to sleep more than a couple hours at a time, when she could keep the demons at bay.

"I hope it gets better. Our bodies weren't meant to function like that. And I didn't even have to go to medical school to learn that. It just seems.. dumb. You're doing these complex surgeries on two hours of sleep. Isn't that scary?" But she calmed as a thumb swiped across her knuckles and she looked down to watch it. "Please do. I know that.. sometimes sleep is the scariest thing you can do but you still need to. None of that sleeping when your dead bs."

LEX: 

The contact made it hard not to lean in and just say fuck it to her feelings, to her healing heart, to everything. But she stayed put, still stroking her thumb over her knuckles. Her gaze dipped down to the scar touching at the edge of her lip and she had a hard time looking away without thinking of kissing it again. Sucking in a breath, she dragged her gaze back up to make eye contact.

"I know. I know, it's okay. I'm-- I've been doing it for years," She repeated lamely. "I haven't had a complaint yet." The joke slipped out easily and she took the moment to scoot closer to Amira, hopefully more subtle than she felt like she was being. "I will. I'll try. I have.. medicine to help with the sleeping." It wasn't for that, but she wasn't sure if Amira knew that or not. "I promise you don't have to worry."

AMIRA: 

Charged silence stretched on between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just some sort of electricity flowing through them that neither of them had the courage to ground. She could see Lex staring at her lip, at the scar that marred it, and she could have sworn that the surgeon lean in a little before breaking out of her reverie. "Doing it for years only makes it worse," she whispered back. Her own hand fell on top of Lex's, squeezing it gently.

She doubted that the pills Lex was referencing were meant for sleep rather than just having sleep as a side effect, but she supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. "Like I said, I may not have to but it doesn't mean I won't. Someone's gotta," she added with a crooked smile. "I'll stay for as long as I can. I don't want to keep you though."

LEX: 

This was real worry for her, and it was hard enough to deal with the obvious feelings that Amira had for her, and she had to look away from her face to ground herself again. She didn't move her hands away, not wanting to give up that little bit of contact with her. There was something swirling in her that she didn't quite understand and didn't want to give name to, but she couldn't ignore it either. Licking her lips, she decided that she could.. give a little back. Just a little.

No hesitation this time, but slowly she leaned in and kissed the bruise just underneath Amira's eye beside her nose. She would have went for the nose itself, but.. she didn't trust herself to be that gentle. "If someone has to, then I should be grateful it's you." She whispered the words as she pulled back and pressed another kiss to the scar she was eyeing. "If you need to nap yourself, that's okay." This time, however, when she pulled back fully she did pull her hand away but only because she was standing to move back to her desk. The playlist was still playing softly, she realized only then and blinked at her computer. "I kind of don't even want to work now," she laughed out with a quick glance back to Amira.

AMIRA: 

Amira didn't follow as Lex looked away, giving her space to sort through whatever it was that she was conflicted with. A quick flash of tongue, and then a slow lean in. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stayed frozen as gentle lips first pressed against the bruise under her left eye, and then down to the scar on her lip. She wanted to tilt her head up just slightly, so she could catch those lips with her own, but she didn't, not wanting to be too greedy. Instead, she just blinked as Lex stood to return to her desk. With an almost disbelieving laugh, Amira couldn't help the smirk.

"Well, I hear there are some pretty comfy on call rooms we can crash in," she teased, calling back to easier times. Before the Nameless' torture, before Margaux, before all of the shit that had come between them. "Or you work on the absolutely dire stuff, and I'll just sit here and look cute so you have some motivation to finish quickly."

LEX: 

Lex's laugh was genuine and once again, her chin found the palm of her hand as she settled in to get comfortable to work. Her heat felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but not quite comfortable either. Her smile twisted into a toothy grin at Amira's teasing and she tilted her head more into her head.

"Trust me, that couch is far, far more comfortable than the on call room bed." That definitely wasn't where her mind was at now, though. Shifting in her seat, she looked back down at her work-- if this were before, she'd have said fuck it ten minutes ago and pulled Amira into heavy kissing until she absolutely had to stop. The thought made heat settle into her lower stomach and twist there. She disguised her sharp inhale with a chuckle. "And you looking cute is supposed to be motivation for.. what when I finish exactly?"

AMIRA: 

Amira didn't think she would ever tire of Lex's laugh. The true, genuine laugh that spilled out of her when she wasn't trying to hide behind a mask. As she settled into work, Amira curled up on the couch with her head propped up on the armrest that allowed her to see Lex without craning her head. "You're right. Those beds are lumpy. You'd think for a fancy hospital they'd be better, but I think we already discussed how it's weird they don't care about your sleep hygiene."

With a yawn, Amira stretched like a cat before settling once more. Shooting Lex a sleepy grin, she shrugged. "Motivation for you to come nap with me. I'm told that I'm a very good teddy bear."

LEX: 

Glancing up again, she had to fight the slew of thoughts that reared up again as she saw Amira stretched out on her couch. Clearing her throat, "There's a pillow underneath. And a sheet. I hide it under there to look.. professional." She smiled, and looked back down at her work, suddenly regretting having so much. If she just didn't.. tonight, she could work late tomorrow instead.. right?

Clenching her jaw, she muttered 'fuck it' under her breath, and stood up from the desk and kicked off her heels. "You're the worst fucking temptation, Amira." Though the smile on her face was hard to deny, especially as she motioned for her to stand-- and when she did, she yanked the bottom of the couch to pull out into a small-ish futon. She had to compromise somehow. Without hesitation, she leaned to grab the pillow and sheet hidden underneath and settled herself on the bed.

"Come here, teddy bear."

AMIRA: 

Of all the ways she had expected this to end, this certainly was not it. Blinking slowly as Lex returned to the couch, she stood slowly, uncertain as to what was going on until it was pulled out into a futon. Not large by any means but certainly wide enough to fit them both. If they were close enough.

Gaping for a moment, a small smile broke through and Amira didn't waste a second before curling up next to Lex. "It's the boobs you know? Makes me squishy," she joked as she tucked herself under Lex's chin. Immediately, the tension and stress all flowed away and she felt so much more at peace with herself than she had in almost a month. Since they had embarked on whatever journey this was. "I would say sorry, but I'm not."

LEX: 

"I swear to god, don't ruin this, asshole." She murmured, still good-natured as Amira tucked herself in next to her. She seemed to almost immediately melt into the position, but it took Lex just a bit longer. On some level, she was still fighting with herself over this decision, over what was happening, over admitting that the feelings she has for Amira were something.. stronger. Dashing that thought away, she wrapped her arms around the submissive and pressed another soft kiss to the top of her head.

"I know you're not, you gremlin, you." She couldn't play with Amira's hair from this position, but she did rub at her back some with closed eyes. "What time do you have work in the morning?"

AMIRA: 

Amira let out a low chuckle even as Lex shifted around for a couple minutes to try and find a comfortable position. She didn't seem as ease with all of this as Amira did, but she supposed that was fair given the circumstances. For a moment she was worried that maybe she had pushed too hard, that Lex felt like she had no other option, but the gentle kiss to the top of her head eased her fears. Lex was a Domme, a grown woman who made her own choices. This was one of them.

"I don't have any meetings tomorrow so there's no actual clock in time. But I should probably leave here by seven at the latest. When do you need to get up for your surgery? I can just head out then."

LEX: 

She didn't pull away from the kiss she'd pressed to the top of Amira's head and instead found herself nuzzling a bit. Giving back-- a little at a time. Letting Amira know that this was okay. That.. she wanted this just as much as Amira did, but wasn't quite there yet. This was Lex trying right back. Swallowing against the tide of fear that tried to rear up, she turned her head and rested her cheek against the top of Amira's head, hopefully not making her too uncomfortable.

"The first surgery's scheduled for six, so I should be up at five. I have an alarm set on my phone already, as I always do." There was a brief pause. "Next time we sleep together, I better be able to make you breakfast."

AMIRA: 

It was almost remarkable how instantly she fell into this feeling of safety when she was around Lex. As a child, her physical safety was something she had always guarded carefully, knowing what might happen if she were to hesitate. But there was no such armor with Lex. The Dominant had managed to slip right through the chinks in her armor, even without intending to. With each kiss, each soft exhale into her hair, every teasing banter, she buried herself deeper into Amira's heart. She wasn't sure if it was possible for Lex to back way without obliterating her heart at this point. Not that she wouldn't have deserved it.

A sleepy nod and a couple muffled words into Lex's shirt made her groan before lifting her head. "Five it is. I hear waking up early is supposed to be good for something. Maybe." Her words were coming out slightly slurred but her eyes blinked open. "I'll never say no to breakfast, or company with you. If I get both, then I just won double jackpot." Closing her eyes, she began to fully settle. "Good night, Lex."

[gusenitsaa]

The King is Dead

     Long Live the King 

For my ever growing collection of @icecubelotr44 inspired the darling affair adjacent fan fiction fan fiction and the whump bingo prompt 'don't let them see you cry'. So you know... fluff obviously. Jones brothers mostly CS/ miliam established but not the focus; (hello, on brand)

Liam Jones; founder and captain of JR Solutions and far reaching pain in the ass of criminal organizations far and wide… was dead. So went the rumors. A game; obviously, and one that worried him for the sake of his own skin more than for Liam's.

It was a ploy. It had to be. And a bloody good one at that. He'd been in deep cover thousands of miles from home for weeks. He'd thought it was going well, thought he would be home by…

It wasn't true.

He kept his face a careful mask as another toast was called across the room.

"The king is dead!"

Long live the King

The frivolity was so obviously a trap that he wondered how they even thought it would work. Any wet behind the ears agent would know better than to show his cards now. Playing this kind of game meant someone knew JR Solutions had infiltrated their ranks. Thankfully their intelligence had been correct and they did not know his face or he'd already be dead.

Deep cover is the worst. It's long, it's stressful. It's dangerous.

He rarely did deep cover anymore. It wasn't safe within a thousand miles of headquarters. Too much risk of someone knowing him. Foreign ops were still an option though, thanks primarily to Will Scarlet's careful diligence in keeping every trace of Liam Jones' little brother's face off of the internet. But Liam needed the best for this one and he was still the best.

He hadn't actually seen the latest intelligence yet. An intercepted transmission for one Killian Jones that had set off a wave of celebration and an undercurrent of suspicion through the organization simultaneously. The letter was making its rounds and by careful indifference it had yet to reach him. But the news had spread like wildfire and the higher ups were watching the spread with a barely hidden scrutiny.

A copy of the letter was pressed into his hands finally and he pasted a look of mild interest on his features. He could feel the heat of eyes on him as he scanned. Anything more than a cursory glance would raise suspicions but from the first a sudden panic seized him.

"Forgive me for doing this in a letter Killian. You have a way with words I've never shared and I do not trust myself to do this properly if I have to see the look on your face while I speak. If anyone could talk me out of death itself it would be you, little brother. I hope you know that, whatever happens, I tried to stay. If I've failed, I wanted to give you the one last conversation that I so desperately needed when I thought I'd lost you.

I don't know what will become of me. Perhaps I will beat the odds and I can give you this letter with my own hand when my days are done and your children are long grown. If not, at least I hope it was useful. That my death could provide some small measure of safety for you and Emma and your beautiful-"

The letter went on. Killian could not. The letter vanished from his hand and on to the next gawker who let out a whoop of delight and began a mocking dramatic reading of something that Killian hadn't read yet. His eyes slipped cautiously to his boss' face. He was still being watched.

Could it be true?

His mind raced and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, drowning out the dramatic reading from the asshole on the table.

How?

Liam wasn't in the field. Liam was behind a damn desk. Liam wasn't supposed to-

Even if he was, he forced himself to consider the possibility logically. Would Scarlet really release this, risk exposing him like this. To risk his very life to beckon him home? Why? His stomach twisted painfully. Yes. If his family was in danger. What else could force Liam to yield his life but a threat to his family. If it wasn't Killian it had to be- And Killian hadn't been there to protect them, to protect him, because he'd needed a few more days. To what? Suddenly the whole operation felt hollow. Liam was gone.

Killian took a shallow breath, the panic making him feel like he might be sick. He was going to get himself killed if he couldn't control himself.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to abandon everything. The progress he'd made, the intel he'd gathered, the chance of eliminating position number 3 on their top ten most wanted list. What the hell did it matter now-

He swallowed hard turning his face away from the higher ups watching him with the facade of attention to the mocker still on top of the table.

He still couldn't hear the words.

There are many things Liam Jones is not proud of.

The encrypted file on his computer, chief among them. A full color recording of the time he'd failed Killian so spectacularly as his commanding officer and as his brother. The video had been livestreamed straight into ops and watching his little brother's apparent murder had broken something inside him so thoroughly that it never quite healed, even after Killian stumbled into his office weeks later beaten and exhausted but alive.

Since that day Killian had deleted the file dozens of times, and destroyed several copies on flashdrives. He'd caught Liam watching it at 3am more nights than either of them wanted to think about, after too many drinks from a home bar that used to be for show. He'd never find them all. Liam needed that video. Needed that reminder of how much was at stake. Needed the reminder of how much Killian could survive.

It was a lie. He didnt need the reminder. he knew every moment, could see it behind closed eyelids on the bad nights. He remembered the horror and the grief and the guilt. Most of all he remembered the shock.

They lived with the possibility. In their line of work it was impossible not to know the statistics. But Killian was different. Killian was a survivor. Killian always came home. Liam always brought him home.

Emma trusted that.

Most days she didn't even ask when Killian was coming home. She just watched him too carefully at dinner, atuned to his moods. If he wasn't worried, she wasn't worried.

But he was always worried. He'd just learned to hide it better since Alice had come along.

He'd had his share of close calls himself, even if they were fewer since he'd given up field work years ago. But it nagged at him. The desperate need to talk to Killian just one more time, after...there was one more file on his computer that Liam considered a necessary evil. Letters to his family. "In the event of my death-" ran the first, a practical sort of letter addressed to Will Scarlet. Scarlet was the only one, as it happened, who had already seen his letter, as he'd set up the simple executable file that would handle distribution of the contents of that digital folder."

They sat, forgotten in a corner of his hard drive, largely ignored since the raw weeks following Killian's return. Until the data breech.

The breech that Scarlet had deemed a non-essential compromise. personal files only, motive of digital attack pending investigation.

It took hours for Scarlet to even determine if any files had been accessed and once he'd discovered it he'd deemed the breech one of non-critical scope. After all, the scope of the breech was so targeted, so tiny. So innane. One single personal folder on Liam's hard drive, of no intelligence value whatsoever.

Unless of course its being used to ferret out someone in deep cover.

Which is how he ended up here. In his office, waiting for a call. he had no way of reaching Killian right now, he was in too deep, but surely Killian would call for early extraction?

The minutes blurred together into hours.

It isn't true.

The hours to days

It isn't true.

It isn't true.

It became his mantra. The only way he could get through the next moment was a pointed and conscious complete refusal to accept the contents of the letter. Because if it was true he had to get out. And if he tried to get out right now he would never make it. He knew it. The entire organization was on high alert, waiting for someone to bolt.

It isn't true.

Despite the way the wording felt so much like Liam it tugged at his heart. Who the hell would know Liam well enough to forge that-

No.

It isn't true.

Do your job. Complete your assignment. Get to the extraction point. Just a few more days.

Killian didn't call for early extraction.

Milah texted him at 4 am when he didn't come home, telling him that he owed her big time for making her be the one to tell Emma. He'd forgotten. He was busy. Wearing a groove in the carpet of his office, plotting out every possible trajectory. Very few of them with much possibility of a happy ending.

Why didn't Killian call for an early extraction?

There was a pounding on his door which made him jump, some part of him entirely certain that it was Killian in his doorway, just as he'd been once before when- he looked up.

Emma.

He swiped his card to release the security door, wondering in passing how she'd gotten past the one on the ground floor. For her own safety more than anything else she didn't have access-

His train of thought was cut off by the door flying open.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Is it true? He's compromised?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?" Emma's complexion turned a shade or two redder. "Liam tell me what the hell is going on or I swear to-"

"I don't know." Liam spat back suddenly and Emma stepped back as though he'd struck her. "I don't..." Liam repeated quieter, "I don't know, Emma."

"What happened?"

"Someone got into the server, accessed my personal files. Took only one. The breach was so small Scarlet didn't even think they got anything until."

"What did they get?"

"I wrote him a letter. My goodbyes, should anything... happen to me unexpectedly. It was encrypted but-"

"He thinks you're dead."

Liam swallowed hard. "It's worse than that."

Emma sank down onto the couch her head in one hand. "How. How could it be worse than that?"

"They're looking for him. There's no other reason for such a targeted breach."

"So get him out!" Emma cried. "Bring him home. That's what you do."

"Don't you think if I could have I-" he swallowed hard. "Scheduled extraction is in five days. Unless he contacts us I can't reach him."

4 days 14 hours and 37 minutes.

Not that he was counting.

It had been 4 days 14 hours and ...38 minutes since someone had pressed a letter into his hand and his world had crumbled around him. He'd existed in a haze from that moment, locking every emotion in a trunk somewhere in the back of his mind. Relying on automation and training to get him through. Only daring to question himself in the dead of night when the dark hid his face from the gaze of the criminals around him and he could risk a moment of weakness to wonder.

Should he have run?

It haunted his every moment. The needling doubt underneath every repeated It's not true that was the only thing keeping him sane. No further transmissions. No attempt to contact him, that he could tell. Not that his bosses would be likely to let such a transmission through. They were still waiting for someone to crack.

4 days 14 hours and 39 minutes.

Extraction was mere hours away and he didn't know how the hell he was going to get out now. Now when the entire organization was on high alert, waiting for someone to do exactly what he was going to do in the next few hours. Focus on the logistics. It's what Liam would-

It's not true.

Most of what he'd gathered was encrypted on several usb drives, stashed in several predetermined locations. A cautionary measure against extraction going sideways. He'd renamed each drive isittrue. In case they retrieved the drive before he could get out. A plea that Scarlett find some way to get a message to him. No message came.

He wasn't truly expecting one. but still it needled at the back of his mind. Was there no message because it had been intercepted. Because they had yet to retrieve the intel. Because it was true and they didn't want him distracted. Hell if Liam was gone would anyone even be there to ex-

It's not true.

Focus damnit.

"You're a cold bastard." the voice of one of his sub-lieutenants rang out and it was all Killian could do not to jump or curse, or both. He glanced back to see the glint of a weapon trained on him from a shadowed alcove. He had a tail. Damn it he was better than this.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Killian growled, forcing steel and a yet unfamiliar accent into his tone.

"My job. Same as you."

"Look, man-"

"Save it. We both know who you are. Goodbye Killian Jones." Killian dropped like a stone the instant before the sound of two weapon shots near deafened him. Heat then ice tore through his shoulder and his tail collapsed unmoving, Killian's bullet in his heart. More would come.

"Bloody buggering he-" Killian grumbled, finally dropping the accent he'd been using for the last seven weeks as his hand raised to his shoulder coming away red. He pulled the flannel overshirt he was wearing off one shoulder, and with a muffled groan lifted his arm slightly to wrap his left shoulder as best he could.

Get to exfil. Get to Liam- Please. He finally let himself beg. Please don't be true.

He ran.

Four blocks from exfil.

He shouldn't have been able to run. The blood draining out of him at every step left him pale and winded and the corners of his vision were already a bit blurry. But knowing that the third most wanted man on their wall of infamy was no more than three minutes behind you does wonders for inspiring physical endurance. If he passed out he died. That was all there was to it. If he got to the extraction point he might have a chance in hell. If he passed out it was over. They'd put a bullet in his head before he even woke and a man doesn't get so lucky as to survive that twice.

Three blocks.

He could hear the reving of car engines down the street. His boss' sub lieutenants searching for him most likely. He'd managed to stem the flow of blood enough to not leave a bloody trail from the man he'd killed but not for long. He'd bought himself minutes probably. Someone would come across the trail of red and then it was over.

Two blocks.

If you pass out you're dead. If you pass out you're dead. If you pass out-

"Who has eyes on Hook?" Liam demanded over the radio.

"Negative, grid 1"

"Negative, grid 2"

"Negative, grid 3"

On and on. Negative negative negative. Killian was late. Killian was seven minutes late for exfil and Liam wanted to knock down every bloody door in this entire damn neighborhood until he found-"

BANG! BANG! Two shot in the distance and Liam's stomach sank. No.

"Where was that?" He demanded.

"North, boss."

"Sounded like it came from the East to me-"

Damn these tall buildings that echoed and damn these people who were so used to the sound of guns firing they didn't so much as flinch to give Liam and his people a hint- "Eyes peeled," he called, "Someone get me eyes on Hook now!"

The minutes ticked by, the radio silent, no one wanting to fill the air with chatter at a time like this.

"Man down, grid seven!" Finally rang out over the radio. "I repeat, man down. I need backup. I've got eyes on him, Captain but-" more gunshots over the radio and over the air waves.

Liam cursed again, checking his weapon unnecessarily and slamming open the door to the van. No one even tried to stop him. Grid seven that was- before he'd even had time to move there was the sound of more weapon fire and Liam ran towards it as the civilians finally realized something abnormal was happening, impeding his progress with an exodus in the other direction.

His man was pinned down behind a dumpster and two cars were at the far end of the alley doors open for cover half a dozen men strewing the alley with covering fire. Killian was down in the middle of all of it, terrifyingly pale, his entire left side soaked in scarlet from shoulder to boot. He took one step towards Killian without thinking only to be pulled back as a bullet whizzed by where he'd been only a moment before.

"Hood?" he demanded over the radio, "Where the devil are you and yours?"

"In position in 45 seconds, Captain."

"Make it 30."

"Copy."

"For what must have been hours Liam waited, eyes fixed on the still body on his brother in that alley just beyond his reach. 4 shots. 4 thuds. And panic broke over the enemy ranks. Liam burst from behind the dumpster, grabbed Killian under both shoulders (sorry, Killian) and dragged him behind cover. His left hand was sticky with cold blood. With one man under each shoulder they dragged Killian from the alley and shoved him unceremoniously into the waiting van.

"Killian?" Liam lost his balance when the van pealed out of its spot, just catching himself as they raced towards medical aid and air transport. "Hold on, little brother," Liam whispered, "nearly out. Just hold on-"

If you pass out you're dead.

It was the last thing he remembered thinking before everything went dark and the first when he woke up, abruptly realizing that somehow he wasn't. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion and the familiar weight of drugs. He fought the heaviness and managed to slit open one eye. Grey metal, the whirring of fans. He'd been captured. His eyes closed again and he forced them open once more, searching for something, anything to aid his esc-

"Killian?"

Liam?

The next time he managed to get an eye open Liam's face was hovering over him.

"Li'm?"

"Aye, little brother. I'm alright. We're alright. I'm taking you home."

He wanted to reply. To say something, hit his brother senseless for putting him through that. To hug him and then perhaps hit him again. He passed out instead.

When he woke the walls were brighter, the weight of exhaustion and of the drugs less overwhelming. The sound which he now realized in retrospect belonged to a helicopter, not a giant fan, was gone.

Liam. Liam had been here. He shot up, agony lancing through his shoulder and down his arm making him cry out. Moments later there was a pressure at his side, "Relax, little brother, I've got you."

"Git." Killian murmured, his mouth barely managing to form the words. His eyes blurred and tears slipped down his cheeks as Liam shifted to support him. Killian slumped against him, exhausted and not caring in the slightest that tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks. He'd blame it on the drugs later, he decided, turning and burying his face into Liam's shoulder. "You utter git."

"I'm sorry, Killian," Liam murmured, voice slightly muffled and thick. "I'm so sorry."

"You're alright? You weren't-"

"I was never in any danger. It was a ploy. One that you showed remarkable resilience against."

"Tell that to the tail that I was too distracted to notice," Killian commented. "Emma?"

"Fine. Still back home. Probably pissed as all hell by our detour."

"Detour?" Killian looked around, suddenly surprised. "Where the devil are we?"

"Somewhere in west Germany," Liam commented, "I'm not entirely certain."

"Germany? How-? What do you mean you're not certain?"

"You coded twice in the air, Killian. I was a little distracted."

"Ah," Killian replied... "sorry." Liam chuckled dryly and tightened his grip. "When can we go home?"

"Did you not hear what I just said? Your heart stopped. Twice. I'm quite certain that requires a certain level of recuperation time, even from you."

Killian moped, his eyebrows furrowing and one corner of his lip turning in his characteristic pout.

"You're going to make the nurses' lives hell aren't you?"

Killian nodded cheerfully and Liam sighed. "I'll get your discharge papers."

"Liam-" Killian interrupted, before he made it more than a step away from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"You're going to delete that damn letter. Because if I ever have to read about your death being useful again... I will find a way to bring you back and punch you myself."

Liam's lips thinned into a terse line and he looked as though he might argue for a moment. then he paused, tousling his brother's hair in a fond gesture he hadn't gotten away with since they were kids. True to form Killian glared at him, shaking his tangled and too long hair out. "I mean it, Liam."

"I know you do, little brother," he paused for a moment, contemplative. "I love you too, Killian."

[kidgezine]

Check-in #2 is Next Monday!

Some of y’all have already turned in your sketches or drafts (and a few finished works) but for the rest of us be sure to email your work to kidgezine@gmail.com by 11:59 pm EST on Monday October 15th. Just like last time, putting your work in the WIP channel of the Discord server is great but it does not count as turning them in so be sure to email them. Here’s some details to help out:

Artists

Sketches for Individual Pages: This is where you need to make sure your image is the right size and all set up for printing. We made a template with an illustrated tutorial to help you with that. Just check out this post and follow the instructions there. The image in Step 3 is a sketch. It’s a bit of a rough sketch but a good example of the minimum expectations for what your sketch should be. It’s ok if you’re already past the sketch stage. Just watch the gif at the end of that post for a quick animation of how to make sure your image is ok for printing. If you need help with that jump into the Discord server and ask umbraja to give you a hand.

Sketches for Journal Images: These are going to be framed to look like old school Polaroids so the print specs aren’t as exacting with journal images as they are with full page pieces - no need to worry about the bleed. They do need to fit into the frames though. Polaroids have about a 3x3 inch picture area so your journal sketches need to be square. We'd rather you draw at a minimum of 6x6 inches (1800x1800 pixels) so you can get better detail but they will end up printed 3x3 so not too much detail.

Thumbnails for Collaborations: Many of y’all turned in thumbnails for collabs last month but they’re not actually due until this one. You can turn in more if you like or go ahead and send sketches. Be sure to send your writer thumbnails and sketches (preferably before you send them to us) so they can give you feedback too. Please let us know if your writer has not been working with you on the collaborations so we can pester them about it. Thumbnails for collaborations should follow the same guidelines as Individual pieces but with a bit more room for creativity. Collaborations do NOT have to follow the 6x9 page size rule. Because there is text to work with in the layout you can make your Collaboration image(s) any shape you want and we will use the fic’s text to fill in the extra space. You can even do organic shaped edges and full spread layouts. We’ll do a tutorial on this later so don’t be afraid of doing fancy things. We’re here to help y’all get it done.

Writers

Drafts for Individual Works: Page count is tight for the printed zine so we made y’all a writing template that you can copy/paste your fic into and get a feel of how many pages you’re using. Just check out this post and follow the instructions there. Don’t panic if you’re over the page count. We’ll work with you to trim it down. If we can’t trim it then we’ll select an excerpt for the printed zine and will put the rest of the pages in the digital copy. We would like to have some complete works in the printed zine though so not everyone can have an excerpt. As for the drafts, these do not need to be polished works but they do need to be complete from beginning to end. They can be super rough with no consideration for grammar or style so long as there is enough detail for us to get a feel of where the fic is going. You can have long sections of dialog with no description (I actually find this to be the best way to draft dialog) or summaries of conversations to be fleshed out later so long as we get the gist of what’s going on. It’s ok if you’ve got notes on things you haven’t figured out yet. You can even put questions in your draft if you want specific feedback such as “I’m not sure if this is physically possible, do you know?” and we will respond when you get your feedback. It’s also Ok if your draft deviates wildly from your outline. We understand how narratives can evolve. Your final story should resemble your draft though so be sure you’ve pinned down where this thing is going to end up.

Drafts for Collaborations: It is very important that you get your drafts as well as any notes, comments, descriptions, or other resources to your artist(s) as soon as possible. The draft itself should follow the same guidelines as an individual work but you also have to communicate with your artist(s) to make sure they have what they need to get their part done. Your artist(s) should be showing you thumbnails by now. Please give them feedback. If your artist doesn’t send you something by Oct 15th let us know.

Journal Entries: We’re going to wait until we get sketches for these cuz we had so many different versions we’re not sure which thumbnails are getting finished. There are a whole lot of really great images so we’re super excited and can’t wait to show you guys so y’all can pick which ones to write for.

Betas

We’ve gotten all the betas paired up so go to your Check-in page and see which fic(s) you got. Each fic should have a Beta Level listed. Most of the writers only want feedback on a nearly finished work (that’ll be November/December) but some wanted feedback on each stage and a few want to work directly with their beta. You’re expected to give your writer(s) this level of feedback so if they only want a single read then you don’t have to do anything till later. Feel free to hang out in the Discord and help any writers that ask for it though. If your writer wants feedback on each stage then you’ll need to read over what they’ve got and send an email to kidgezine@gmail.com with your feedback by November 1st so we can add it to their Check-in page. Don’t contact your writer directly unless their beta level says they want to work directly with their beta. 

There should be a link below each fic’s summary that will take you to that writer’s submission folder. If your writer does not have a link below their fic that means they have not turned anything in. Right now we mostly only have outlines so you should probably wait until after the draft deadline to give feedback. Feel free to read the outlines though. Some of the writers have given us Google Docs with comment permissions turned on so you might be able to leave comments in the doc itself. Please still email us a copy of your comments so we can keep our information up to date and know not to pester you about doing your feedback.

A Note on Missing Deadlines

Holidays are coming up and we’ve got Inktober then NaNoWriMo to keep y’all busy so we understand the next few deadlines could be a crunch. That’s why we have so many of them. It’s Ok if you miss a few of the deadlines - except the last one, that’s absolutely final. Just be sure to contact us (in the Discord or send us an email) to let us know that you’ll be late and when we can expect you to have your work turned in. This way we don’t worry about you (we worry cuz we care). If there’s some special circumstance we can even work out an alternative schedule and any other assistance you may need to help get your work done. All you gotta do is ask.

That said, it is not fair to everyone else if you miss too many deadlines. Thankfully we only had a few people miss the first deadline and one of them has set up an alternative schedule. So long as the rest of y’all get your work in before the next deadline (which most of you have) you’ll be ok. If you miss another deadline without turning in last month’s work though, we will start to have problems.

The deadlines create a process that is designed to give y’all some structure and help you do your best work while letting us make sure that work is right for the zine. If you don’t follow the process you might end up doing work that has to be redone because it doesn’t fit the zine. No one wants that. So, please, follow the process and turn your work in on time (or at least close to it). If you don’t follow the process we may not accept your work into the zine.

Feedback on Progress

Y’all should have gotten an email with a link to our Check-in page which has all the information we’ve got on you and what work you’ve turned in so far. There should be feedback on your first check-in there and we’ll be adding feedback for every other check-in right under that as we get it in. Let us know if your feedback is missing or any other issues with the information and we’ll get it fixed. Also let us know if you did not get that email so we can send you the link. 

We won’t be sending a notification email for the next round of feedback but we will have it posted to the Check-in page no later than November 1st so just give it a look then to see our comments. If you want feedback sooner than that just put ‘Feedback Please’ in the subject line of the email when you turn your work in so we know to look at yours first. We’ll respond to your request email to let you know when to check the page for your feedback. 

 It’s up to you if you want to wait for feedback before continuing your work but you might have to make some adjustments if you get too far ahead. We won’t force you to do what our feedback says (unless it’s about following the zine’s requirements) but we will give suggestions for development. The decision is ultimately yours if you want to follow that or not. So long as your idea fits the requirements we’re not gonna be picky.

[hydrus]

Version 324

windows

zip

exe

os x

app

tar.gz

linux

tar.gz

source

tar.gz

I had a great week. The downloader overhaul is almost done.

pixiv

Just as Pixiv recently moved their art pages to a new phone-friendly, dynamically drawn format, they are now moving their regular artist gallery results to the same system. If your username isn't switched over yet, it likely will be in the coming week.

The change breaks our old html parser, so I have written a new downloader and json api parser. The way their internal api works is unusual and over-complicated, so I had to write a couple of small new tools to get it to work. However, it does seem to work again.

All of your subscriptions and downloaders will try to switch over to the new downloader automatically, but some might not handle it quite right, in which case you will have to go into edit subscriptions and update their gallery manually. You'll get a popup on updating to remind you of this, and if any don't line up right automatically, the subs will notify you when they next run. The api gives all content--illustrations, manga, ugoira, everything--so there unfortunately isn't a simple way to refine to just one content type as we previously could. But it does neatly deliver everything in just one request, so artist searching is now incredibly faster.

Let me know if pixiv gives any more trouble. Now we can parse their json, we might be able to reintroduce the arbitrary tag search, which broke some time ago due to the same move to javascript galleries.

twitter

In a similar theme, given our fully developed parser and pipeline, I have now wangled a twitter username search! It should be added to your downloader list on update. It is a bit hacky and may be ultimately fragile if they change something their end, but it otherwise works great. It discounts retweets and fetches 19/20 tweets per gallery 'page' fetch. You should be able to set up subscriptions and everything, although I generally recommend you go at it slowly until we know this new parser works well. BTW: I think twitter only 'browses' 3200 tweets in the past, anyway. Note that tweets with no images will be 'ignored', so any typical twitter search will end up with a lot of 'Ig' results--this is normal. Also, if the account ever retweets more than 20 times in a row, the search will stop there, due to how the clientside pipeline works (it'll think that page is empty).

Again, let me know how this works for you. This is some fun new stuff for hydrus, and I am interested to see where it does well and badly.

misc

In order to be less annoying, the 'do you want to run idle jobs?' on shutdown dialog will now only ask at most once per day! You can edit the time unit under options->maintenance and processing.

Under options->connection, you can now change max total network jobs globally and per domain. The defaults are 15 and 3. I don't recommend you increase them unless you know what you are doing, but if you want a slower/more cautious client, please do set them lower.

The new advanced downloader ui has a bunch of quality of life improvements, mostly related to the handling of example parseable data.

full list

downloaders:

after adding some small new parser tools, wrote a new pixiv downloader that should work with their new dynamic gallery's api. it fetches all an artist's work in one page. some existing pixiv download components will be renamed and detached from your existing subs and downloaders. your existing subs may switch over to the correct pixiv downloader automatically, or you may need to manually set them (you'll get a popup to remind you).

wrote a twitter username lookup downloader. it should skip retweets. it is a bit hacky, so it may collapse if they change something small with their internal javascript api. it fetches 19-20 tweets per 'page', so if the account has 20 rts in a row, it'll likely stop searching there. also, afaik, twitter browsing only works back 3200 tweets or so. I recommend proceeding slowly.

added a simple gelbooru 0.1.11 file page parser to the defaults. it won't link to anything by default, but it is there if you want to put together some booru.org stuff

you can now set your default/favourite download source under options->downloading

.

misc:

the 'do idle work on shutdown' system will now only ask/run once per x time units (including if you say no to the ask dialog). x is one day by default, but can be set in 'maintenance and processing'

added 'max jobs' and 'max jobs per domain' to options->connection. defaults remain 15 and 3

the colour selection buttons across the program now have a right-click menu to import/export #FF0000 hex codes from/to the clipboard

tag namespace colours and namespace rendering options are moved from 'colours' and 'tags' options pages to 'tag summaries', which is renamed to 'tag presentation'

the Lain import dropper now supports pngs with single gugs, url classes, or parsers--not just fully packaged downloaders

fixed an issue where trying to remove a selection of files from the duplicate system (through the advanced duplicates menu) would only apply to the first pair of files

improved some error reporting related to too-long filenames on import

improved error handling for the folder-scanning stage in import folders--now, when it runs into an error, it will preserve its details better, notify the user better, and safely auto-pause the import folder

png export auto-filenames will now be sanitized of \, /, :, *-type OS-path-invalid characters as appropriate as the dialog loads

the 'loading subs' popup message should appear more reliably (after 1s delay) if the first subs are big and loading slow

fixed the 'fullscreen switch' hover window button for the duplicate filter

deleted some old hydrus session management code and db table

some other things that I lost track of. I think it was mostly some little dialog fixes :/

.

advanced downloader stuff:

the test panel on pageparser edit panels now has a 'post pre-parsing conversion' notebook page that shows the given example data after the pre-parsing conversion has occurred, including error information if it failed. it has a summary size/guessed type description and copy and refresh buttons.

the 'raw data' copy/fetch/paste buttons and description are moved down to the raw data page

the pageparser now passes up this post-conversion example data to sub-objects, so they now start with the correctly converted example data

the subsidiarypageparser edit panel now also has a notebook page, also with brief description and copy/refresh buttons, that summarises the raw separated data

the subsidiary page parser now passes up the first post to its sub-objects, so they now start with a single post's example data

content parsers can now sort the strings their formulae get back. you can sort strict lexicographic or the new human-friendly sort that does numbers properly, and of course you can go ascending or descending--if you can get the ids of what you want but they are in the wrong order, you can now easily fix it!

some json dict parsing code now iterates through dict keys lexicographically ascending by default. unfortunately, due to how the python json parser I use works, there isn't a way to process dict items in the original order

the json parsing formula now uses a string match when searching for dictionary keys, so you can now match multiple keys here (as in the pixiv illusts|manga fix). existing dictionary key look-ups will be converted to 'fixed' string matches

the json parsing formula can now get the content type 'dictionary keys', which will fetch all the text keys in the dictionary/Object, if the api designer happens to have put useful data in there, wew

formulae now remove newlines from their parsed texts before they are sent to the StringMatch! so, if you are grabbing some multi-line html and want to test for 'Posted: ' somewhere in that mess, it is now easy.

next week

After slaughtering my downloader overhaul megajob of redundant and completed issues (bringing my total todo from 1568 down to 1471!), I only have 15 jobs left to go. It is mostly some quality of life stuff and refreshing some out of date help. I should be able to clear most of them out next week, and the last few can be folded into normal work.

So I am now planning the login manager. After talking with several users over the past few weeks, I think it will be fundamentally very simple, supporting any basic user/pass web form, and will relegate complicated situations to some kind of improved browser cookies.txt import workflow. I suspect it will take 3-4 weeks to hash out, and then I will be taking four weeks to update to python 3, and then I am a free agent again. So, absent any big problems, please expect the 'next big thing to work on poll' to go up around the end of October, and for me to get going on that next big thing at the end of November. I don't want to finalise what goes on the poll yet, but I'll open up a full discussion as the login manager finishes.

[banditthewriter]

Running Away part 6

I wasn’t going to post this tonight but I’ve gotten a few written already and why not? I had a bad day at work and this story makes it better.

@yessy2012​ @1550kilogramsofsilver​ @missphanosaur18 @rileyblues

Previously: You found out that Billy had been there when your brother died. Billy comforted you while you cried and then you shared a moment before you returned to your room.

Here you go! Hope you enjoy.

*****

The alarm clock on your dresser said it was 9:16 in the morning. The less than six hours of sleep you had gotten the night before was evident as you rolled out of the bed, body stiff. You brushed your hair out of your face as you pushed past the curtain and slipped into the bathroom.

After you did your usual morning routine, you looked into the mirror and groaned. Your hair was a mess, which was the usual for when you woke up, but you had bags under your eyes. A little water splashed onto your face woke you up a bit more and helped tame your hair enough to put it into a bun. 

As you opened the bathroom door, you were faced with a sight you weren’t expecting. Billy was stretched out on the couch, one arm over his face while the other rested on his stomach as his chest rose softly with sleep.

You were glad he had succumbed to sleep and almost felt bad about waking him but it was a small apartment and there was no way around it.

It’s not like he had to be anywhere today, you thought as you made your way into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Not that you had anywhere you had to be today either. Saturday meant maybe meeting Alice for lunch but more often, you sat at home and watched TV while you ate very unhealthy takeout. 

A groan behind you had you looking over your shoulder. Billy had sat up, feet on the floor and his forearms braced against his thighs. He rolled his head from side to side, audible cracks coming from his probably very sore joints.

“It’s probably not as comfortable as you’re used to, but it’s better than the floor.” 

Billy huffed a laugh in response before he wandered off in the direction of the bathroom. You shook your head and turned back to what you were doing before you’d been distracted by your very distracting house guest. 

When Billy emerged, he went straight for his bag and you averted your gaze as he pulled some clothes out to pull on. You almost wished you had done the same, feeling under dressed in your own kitchen as you wore a thin button up night shirt with matching shorts. 

“So those waffles I mentioned? They are Eggos. You may feel cheated but I do add my own touch of cinnamon so that kind of evens it out.”

You heard Billy laugh from right behind you, a puff of his breath disturbing the hair on your neck. As the toaster popped, you grabbed the Eggos and placed them on a plate.

“I feel honored that you’re sharing your culinary skills with me again.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you shoved one of the plates into his chest. He caught it and you watched as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Yeah yeah, shut up Russo. When was the last time you got dinner and breakfast with the same girl, huh?”

Your retort brought a full blown laugh from Billy as he sat his plate on the table and moved to the fridge to grab something to drink. You’d been worried, the second the words left your mouth, that he might be offended.

“Touche Y/N,” he offered as he gestured to the juice in his hand. You nodded and grabbed two cups and placed them on the table next to his plate. 

It was another one of those situations where it felt ridiculously domestic, each of you having a part in the dance around the kitchen to ready breakfast. It felt as if he’d been there before, been there longer than just one night. 

“Your phone was in the fridge, by the way.”

You jerked around and looked at Billy in disbelief as he pointed at the charger near the counter. Your phone was plugged in and you winced at the memory of grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge before you started to get dressed to go out the night before.

“Crap. I hope it’s still working.” 

You unplugged the phone and watched as it lit up, fully charged. There were more than a few missed texts from your friends, a few missed calls from them, a news alert about Billy, and then a missed call from...

“Hm.” You hovered your finger over the notification. 

Billy had heard the noise you made and approached you, hand on the small of your back to get your attention. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him as you locked your phone.

“It’s nothing. Just a missed call from my mom.”

You locked the phone after you turned the ringer back up and put it back on the counter. You moved to the table and sat down, Billy copying you a few moments later.

“Adam didn’t talk about your parents much. I don’t even remember meeting them at the funeral.” 

You watched as Billy began cutting into his food and turned to look at your own breakfast. Seeing the missed call had stolen your appetite but you forced yourself to eat a few bites.

“You wouldn’t have met them because they weren’t there.” At Billy’s blank look, you shrugged and looked back down at your food. “They didn’t like that Adam joined the military. They hadn’t spoken to him since he signed up. Mom had said she didn’t have a son when I told her about the accident.”

Billy nodded slowly and watched you as he rotated his cup around on the table. You sighed loudly, unable to force any more food down and stood to throw the wasted food away.

“Despite being raised by them, I guess you could say that I consider myself an orphan too. Adam was my family.”

After you put your plate in the sink, Billy moved and did the same. He touched your shoulder softly before he pulled you into a hug.

“Parents aren’t worth the pain.” 

You hummed your agreement into his neck and let yourself melt for just a moment before you pulled away. He smelled amazing and you wanted to stay curled in him but you couldn’t. It was definitely not an option.

“I’m going to go get dressed.” With that you walked across the apartment and slipped behind the curtain into your bedroom. 

The clothes you picked were comfortable and warm since the heat in your apartment was fickle and usually kicked itself off in the middle of the day. Once dressed you straightened up your bed and brushed your hair, leaving it down.

As you walked towards the curtain, you stopped and eyed your small closet. Should you wear something a little nicer, you wondered as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, or was that completely ridiculous? Billy was hiding in your apartment from federal agents and every member of law enforcement in the state.

It wasn’t exactly a romantic atmosphere but you couldn’t help but think about the lingering touches and the looks he had given you last night.

The phone ringing in the other room made the decision for you. By time you made it back to the kitchen and grabbed your phone, it had stopped ringing. The display read that it had been Alice that called and you made a face as you put the phone back down.

If you didn’t respond to her, she might try to come back around and she would be very suspicious if you said that your date from the night before was still there. If you did respond, she might still want to come around for girl talk. 

It was not a dilemma you’d ever imagined yourself having but you had to do something. Conscious of Billy on the couch behind you, you picked the phone up and called Alice back.

“About damn time Y/N, I was getting ready to come by and make sure your date hadn’t killed you or something.”

“No, Alice, I’m fine. I was just in the other room when you called.”

“Fine fine, now spill. Unless you want to do it in person? No, tell me now, I don’t want to wait.”

You glanced at Billy who was definitely pretending not to listen so you turned back and took a few steps further away. Not that it was much in this apartment, but maybe he’d only be able to hear your part of the conversation instead of both.

“It was fine.” And the moment it was out, you knew it was the wrong thing to say. Honestly you knew Alice better than that, knew she actually needed details and not just some vague identifier. Before she could launch into one of her well prepared rants or lectures, you tried to fix your mistake.

“He was a complete gentleman and we had a good meal. I enjoyed it.” You cast a quick look over at Billy before you continued. “I’ll definitely be seeing him again.”

Alice made a loud squealing sound that had you pulling your phone away from your ear and you were certain Billy had chuckled. 

“That’s great and I’m so glad for you Y/N. What does he look like, what does he do? What’s his name?”

You choked and stammered a bit, drawing Billy’s full attention. 

“He uh, well, his uh, name is Will. He has a pretty boring office job. And he looks...” Here you watched as Billy started to smile and gesture as if to tell you to continue. “He’s pretty plain looking really, but he has a great smile.”

While Alice cooed, you watched as Billy’s smirk softened into a smile and he ducked his head to break eye contact. You felt as if you had won something with that comment. You moved over towards the chair and flopped down while Alice continued to say how great it was that you found someone. 

And somehow it didn’t feel like a lie. Not that Alice, or anyone for that matter, would understand the situation as it was.

“That’s great and all and I really and glad for you, but I do have one last question. How is he in bed?”

You were definitely close enough to Billy for him to hear that because he made a noise, a cross between a laugh and a cough, and you shot up from the chair and moved away before Alice could hear him.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alice, New York is under attack by aliens again. Look to the sky, it’s huge whale shaped aliens. I gotta go!”

And you hung up on her as she laughed, so you knew she wasn’t too offended by your bad lie.

“I kind of wanted to hear you stumble through a lie for that one.”

You walked over to the chair once more and grabbed the other throw pillow and tossed it at him. He caught it and gave you a mock hurt look.

“What? Why else is it called a throw pillow if you’re not supposed to throw it?”

The response to that was a genuine laugh from Billy that made you feel warm. While he leaned back on the couch, pillow tucked under his arm, you simply enjoyed watching him be relaxed and carefree. Even if just for a moment. 

You’d meant what you had said about his smile, even if he was definitely anything but plain looking. 

The rest of the day was spent like that, joking and talking between meals with the television playing in the background. The news played constantly but nothing seemed new. Billy stopped tensing and looking at you when they showed the list of his crimes or, a few times, pictures from crimes he had been part of. 

By nighttime you were on the couch next to him, your feet thrown over his lap while you read from a magazine and he read a book you hadn’t touched since college. Somehow you felt more comfortable with him than you had with your last serious boyfriend.

And that felt more dangerous than the man next to you.

Part 7

[charterhunter529]

Family Sketch

Helen Schatvet Ullmann, CG, FASG [adapted from the author’s article in New England Ancestors 8:3 (Summer 2007):41–42, 45]

Do you have a thick file or a notebook full of information you’d like to write up for your family? Or even boxes and boxes of it? Maybe your data is in Family Tree Maker or some other program. Or maybe you’re just in the beginning stages of your research. In any case, whether you just want to write about your grandparents or compile a whole book, the basic building block is the family sketch, treating a couple and their children in an organized and interesting way. Word processing, extremely flexible, is a wonderful tool for genealogists. Remember the old days when we had to cut and paste and retype, perhaps introducing new errors as we went along? About twenty years ago, NEHGS sponsored a seminar held at the Museum of Science here in Boston. My only memory of the whole day is Alicia Crane Williams saying, “As soon as you get a little information, put it in Register style. This is part of the research process.” So I went home and on my quaint little Apple IIe began transcribing old family group sheets crammed with information. My descendants might just take them to the dump! What is a family sketch? It’s just a story with a beginning, middle, and end. The beginning is the first paragraph that contains the vital information about the parents — all of it. So, if the reader later wants to check back to see just when your great-grandmother married her second husband, it’s easy to find. The middle is whatever you want, usually a biography in chronological order. It could include funny stories or a serious analysis distinguishing between your grandfather and another fellow who bore the same name. At the end is a list of children with their vital data. You may have mentioned each child as he or she joined the family, married, or died, in the biography above, but it’s still important to have a straightforward list of children at the end. Children for whom there is a lot of information may be continued in their own sketches. You can begin with just shreds of information. I started one sketch with my mother’s memories, her grandparents’ names and the recollection that she would sit on her grandfather’s lap and braid his side whiskers — plus the fact that he was a Congregational minister. Then I listed her mother, her aunt, and her uncles, using “Conversation with . . . ” and her name and relationship in footnotes. On the other hand, I have many folders of notes gleaned in the ’70s and ’80s, b.c. (before computers). It’s fun to open one, outline the family structure, and start adding information almost at random as I go through the file. As I work, I can see where I need to bolster a statement with pertinent analysis or where I could undertake more research. Before starting to write, you might read some sections in Genealogical Writing in the 21st Century,[1] especially the pages that diagram the different elements of the parents’ and children’s paragraphs. There isn’t space here to discuss all the fine points, including numbering systems.[2] Many other matters, such as whether to use abbreviations, are really your own personal preference. Generally the fewer the abbreviations, the smoother the reading. Complete sentences, rather than lots of semicolons, also make reading easier. Now you can just start writing. But here’s a suggestion: if you are going to start from scratch (as opposed to creating a “report” from your genealogy database), go to AmericanAncestors.org. Click on the Publication tab, then on theRegister, and then under Side Links, on “Download a Register Style Template for Microsoft Word.” Then “Download the Template!” If you have Microsoft Word on your computer, a document that can function as a template will open. I won’t repeat all that the template says, but it will help you format your sketch, especially those pesky children who appear in hanging paragraphs. This template contains all the “styles” that we use in the Register, everything from title to footnotes. The word “style” here does not refer to Register “style.” It is a word-processing term that refers to the format of each paragraph. When you open Word, you will be in “normal” style, but this paragraph is being written in “body text indent.” The only difference is that the first line is indented. Hanging paragraphs for children are more complicated. These paragraphs line up roman numerals on a “right tab.” There are even styles for quotations and grandchildren. If you’ve already arranged some material and want to use that template, simply copy your work into the blank template. First select your whole document and make sure it’s in normal style. Go to “Format,” then “Style,” and select “normal.” Delete all tabs and spaces you added to format the children. After pasting your work into the new document, save it under the name you want to use. Then review the text and select the “style” for each paragraph by placing your cursor in the paragraph and choosing the style from the Format menu. There should be a little window on your toolbar that lists the styles and offers a quicker route. You can select many paragraphs at once. (A technical detail: if you want to edit the style in any way, say choosing a different font or left-justified text, go to the Format menu, choose “Style,” and click on “Modify.”) In the Register we generally use “normal” style for the first paragraph where the parents’ vital data appear. Then we switch to “body text indent” for the biography. We introduce the children with a “kid’s intro” style and then choose “kids.” When you use that style, hit tab, then the first Roman numeral and a period, then hit tab again. Both tabs will then appear, and you can start typing the child’s name. Small caps are very elegant here. Notice that we include the surname for each child. Then there’s no doubt about the surname and indexing is easier. If you want to list grandchildren, you’ll find the “grandkids” style works a little differently. No tabs needed. Just type the arabic numeral and a period. Then two hard spaces help the names line up nicely [use Control-Shift-Space]. In the Register we use italics for grandchildren’s names. Even the footnotes and footnote references have their own styles. We encourage you to cite your sources for everything. Footnotes are much handier if your readers will really use them, but endnotes may seem less intimidating. The basics of citation format are not difficult. Look at issues of the Register for examples. A current guide is Evidence!,[3] good to have at hand, but the Register often uses simpler formats. The Chicago Manual of Style is also helpful.[4] It saves time to enter the notes correctly the first time. (By the way, the footnote reference number goes after the punctuation.) A further hint about writing style: try reading your work out loud. Are you using empty phrases you would never use when talking? Can you say something more concisely? Are your sentences really sentences? Passive voice — “The ball was hit by the boy,” rather than “The boy hit the ball” — deadens the tone. And proofread, proofread, proofread. You’ll improve your sketch every time.

All the best Family Sketch Images 38+ collected on this page. Feel free to explore, study and enjoy paintings with PaintingValley.com. As I look toward shifting to a different family line in my own research, I think I’m going to take the time to write a bio sketch for the main ancestor I’ve been researching, George Washington Adams (1845-1938) before I say goodby to him for a little while. I think it should be a fun exercise. 93,432 family sketch stock photos, vectors, and illustrations are available royalty-free. See family sketch stock video clips. Family future plan group of sketch family people walking in the garden building a family sketches of future family design interior family sketch color family and money family with money thinking wall.

Finally, for the “icing on the cake,” dress up your sketch with illustrations! Insert photos, autographs, pictures of houses and gravestones, the ship on which your ancestors crossed the ocean, maps — whatever you can find. Your final product should be elegant and attractive, not just to your children but to their grandchildren and beyond.

Sidebar:

A few little tips

Commas and periods go inside a closing quote; semicolons outside.

Footnote reference numbers come after the punctuation.

Titles of published books should be italicized.

Titles of articles and unpublished materials need quotation marks.

Titles of sources such as land, probate, and vital records do not need italics or quotes unless they are published.

Proofread on another day.

Try reading your prose out loud!

Sidebar 2:

Polishing that database reports

In word processing you can discuss all sorts of nuances of dates, places, and identities wherever they seem to fit. Such additions are not so easy when working with a genealogy database. There are quite a few differences between what we consider Register style and the quasi-Register-style report generated by most genealogy programs. If you are using one of these programs, here are some things to consider.

Once you have generated a report, it will carry its own set of word-processing “styles.” You can just accept them, or eliminate all of them by selecting the whole document and putting it in “normal” style as described above, then copying it into a blank Register template. If you do so, eliminate any sex designations for the children first. (You can easily comment on any unusual name in the text or a footnote.)

Family Sketch Clipart Black And White

You should make some other changes as well. First, consider the order of the information. Do the wife’s name and vital data appear after the husband’s notes, with notes on her following? Move information on the wife into the husband’s paragraph and integrate her notes with his. Next, did you document those notes with citations in parentheses? All citations need to be moved into footnotes (or endnotes if you prefer). Multiple footnotes for the same piece of data should be combined into one note, with semicolons between the different sources. You must also consider the format of names, dates, and places. Small caps are good for names, but your report will probably have a mixture of lower and upper case. Capitalizing names of the parents of husband and wife would be distracting. Place names don’t require a county or state after first use in each sketch, but it’s helpful to the reader to add “County” where appropriate. Postal codes are also distracting. In the Register we spell out the names of months and states in the main text and abbreviate them (except those with five letters or less), with periods, in the children’s paragraph

Family Sketch Picture

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1Michael J. Leclerc and Henry B. Hoff, ed., Genealogical Writing in the 21st Century, 2nd ed. (Boston: NEHGS, 2006). 2See Joan Ferris Curran, Madilyn Coen Crane, and John H. Wray, Numbering Your Genealogy: Basic Systems, Complex Families, and International Kin, National Genealogical Society Special Publication No. 64 (Arlington, Va.: National Genealogical Society, 1999). 3Elizabeth Shown Mills, Evidence! Citation & Analysis for the Family Historian (Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Co., 1997). The introductory sections of this book are especially valuable. 4The Chicago Manual of Style, 15th ed. (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2003).

Cartoon Drawing Of A Family

This book publishes, for the first time in full, the two most revealing of Mark Twain’s private writings. Here he turns his mind to the daily life he shared with his wife Livy, their three daughters, a great many servants, and an imposing array of pets. These first-hand accounts display this gifted and loving family in the period of its flourishing. Mark Twain began to write “A Family Sketch” in response to the early death of his eldest daughter, Susy, but the manuscript grew under his hands to become an exuberant account of the entire household. His record of the childrens’ sayings—“Small Foolishnesses”—is next, followed by the related manuscript “At the Farm.” Also included are selections from Livy’s 1885 diary and an authoritative edition of Susy’s biography of her father, written when she was a teenager. Newly edited from the original manuscripts, this anthology is a unique record of a fascinating family.