#I miss my octet so much

[blue-kyber]

I'm not religious. I consider myself to be more spiritual.

I didn't go to a religious school, but we sang the Seven Fold Amen (The Lord Be Gracious) by Lutkin in the late 90's in my high school's acapella choir, and the advanced octet was in for all 4 years.

I still remember the alto part. :)

We would sing Randal Thompson's Alleluia and tag this onto the end.

My high school band also played this at the very end of a home game in front of our band room after everyone left. It was just us circled in the courtyard beside the building.

Everyone would hold the last note, and one tumpeter (usually the same guy - who was awesome) would play Taps. On the last note, we would all swell the volume, then take it down and fade it out.

It was incredible every time. Again, I didn't go to a religious school. I went to public school. Our teacher wasn't religious either, but he thought it was beautiful, and held a certain power, and so did we.

The octet also sang this at the funeral of one of my science teachers when I was just 16 - a sophomore. He'd died in the parking lot of a local grocery store when he was hit with a sudden aneurism. At least we all could take solace in the fact that he didn't suffer. If he did, it wasn't for long. It was surreal to come to school on Monday to find a substitute in his place, and to hear over the PA system that he'd died that saturday. The whole class was in shock. We'd just seen him the previous Friday. It was an emotional performance for all of us, but I think more for those of us who were in his class. He made science interesting, and he loved all of his kids. We stressed him the hell out, but he still loved us enough to not give up on us little teenage shits. :) Mr. Kohl was awesome.

Singing this and playing this is still one of the memories I hold dear just because of my history with it.

Lyrics:

The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord lift his countenance upon you. And give you peace. The Lord make his face to shine upon you. And be gracious unto you. The Lord be gracious unto you.

Amen.

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

I showed Preludes to my Great Aunt the other night! She used to teach and sing opera and loves classical music, though she's 82 so her taste in shows hasn't changed much since the 70's!

She said it was captivating, very raw and emotional, and that she couldn't imagine performing like that every night! It was the concert performance but she still enjoyed it very much, and was impressed by the writing and music and the serious format it was presented in. She said she'd happily watch it again, saying she'd love to get the chance to notice things she'd missed.

Next on my list is Beowulf (she found it the most interesting out of the ones I have) and then maybe Don't Stop Me or Ghost Quartet. Then I'll start running out of proshots, so we'll see if her interest extends to bootlegs or just listening to the albums.

But we had a lovely conversation about Octet and DSM from just my descriptions of the plot, so I really hope she gets to experience them someday! Plus with that Great Comet livestream coming in November we'll finally have a decent shot!

[icloudbanana]

Json editor download perl

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not to escape extra characters such as U+2028 and U+2029, etc), in order for you not to lose such JavaScript-friendliness silently when you use JSON.pm and install JSON::XS for speed or by accident. JSON::PP works as a fallback module when you use JSON module without having installed JSON::XS.īecause of this fallback feature of JSON.pm, JSON::PP tries not to be more JavaScript-friendly than JSON::XS (i.e. JSON::PP is a pure perl JSON decoder/encoder, and (almost) compatible to much faster JSON::XS written by Marc Lehmann in C. # JSON::XS or JSON::PP, so you should be able to just: # Note that JSON version 2.0 and above will automatically use $perl_scalar = $json->decode( $json_text ) $pretty_printed_json_text = $json->encode( $perl_scalar ) $json = JSON::PP->new->ascii->pretty->allow_nonref $perl_hash_or_arrayref = decode_json $utf8_encoded_json_text $utf8_encoded_json_text = encode_json $perl_hash_or_arrayref # exported functions, they croak on error

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First, we will download a one-line JSON file from Reddit. Let’s see how easily you can pretty print a JSON file with VIM. Git interactive rebase uses VIM by default, so it’s worth knowing VIM. VIM, like many other Unix utilities, is both tough and brilliant. I’ve recently had to analyze a 100 MB one-line JSON file and once more VIM saved the day. There aren’t many editors capable of working with very large files, like production logs for instance. Sooner or later there comes the day when your easy-to-use IDE becomes useless for handling huge files. Follow you are trading with Kraken or Revolut, then you are going to love

[seaquestions]

turns out drawing robots is A Lot easier when youre drawing your own (relatively uncomplicated) designs and not having to meticulously look for character reference that’s got far too many lines for you to process without giving yourself a headache. also tfa first aid is cute.

anyways.

octet ended up being split into two designs that both make more sense imo (though,, he was very pretty... ill have to incorporate some of his design elements into twister’s once i draw her in a more detailed style)

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Dream SMP Characters as Lyrics from Dave Malloy Musicals

(note: only got lyrics from tgc, ghost quartet, octet, preludes, and moby dick. not all characters are here, though i think i got majority! also, some characters have two quotes because i couldn’t pick lol)

Eret:

All of my life I spent searching the words Of poets and saints and prophets and kings And now at the end all I know that I’ve learned Is that all that I know is I don’t know a thing

- Dust and Ashes, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

Fundy:

They say you can see your future In the long row of candles Stretching back and back and back Into the depths of the mirror In the dim confused last square You’ll see a coffin or a man Everyone sees a man

- Sunday Morning, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

I don’t know if this is me at all Or just some ghost of me That I dreamed up Just to sing myself to sleep Or someone that I used to be Or someone that I will be Or someone that I am right now

- I Don’t Know, Ghost Quartet

Niki:

And I’m haunted by that memory Of who I used to be So gleeful So blank So ready I was empty then And I’m empty now But it’s not the same at all

- Tango Dancer, Ghost Quartet

Phil:

What if you just missed something? What if you let something go? Just for the night Would that be alright? Oh, I swear it’ll be the same They are all motes of dust We are all motes of dust

- Glow, Octet

(20+ more under the cut!)

Karl:

I’ve got a thousand one stories Every single one of them’s a lie Let me read you a story Let me read you a romance I will read, you will listen And this terrible night will pass

- I Don’t Know, Ghost Quartet

Staring at the mirror ‘Til everything's fuzz My memory is a trap I’m not what once was Infinity is mine It whirls and it swoops And I am but a child I am on a loop I am on a loop I am on a loop I am on a loop I am on a loop (x10)

- Loop, Preludes

Sapnap:

A pencil scratch on an empty page You lift the latch and open a window pane And all I hear is the sound Of your life singing in my ears And all of the peace that I had for so many years Now that’s all gone, all gone All of my life is entwined with my love Every whisper, snore, and heartbeat Every rhapsody of What’s yours is mine

- Not Alone, Preludes

Purpled:

But I will transcend And vomit this loser out of me I will become the next big thing I will light myself on fire It’s time to get out of bed And be the Starchild I can be

- Starchild, Ghost Quartet

Ghostbur:

And you You were there too You drove that train Right through my heart But I guess it’s time To put that to bed I guess it’s time To let the dead be dead

- Hero, Ghost Quartet

Schlatt:

Drink with me, my love For there’s fire in the sky And there’s ice on the ground Either way, my soul will die

- The Duel, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

Puffy:

I am not a hero I am not a movie star I am not a genius, I know I am not a monk I’m not special I’m the same as anybody else

- Hero, Ghost Quartet

Foolish:

I suspect deep down I don't care if I die How else could I Be wasting so much time On this sweet fluorescent smiling brainrot? Stupid and dry eye poison?

- Candy, Octet

Techno:

First they poisoned the water Then they poisoned the sky And now it’s our minds And you gotta stay vigilant Everyone thinks they’re so top tier No one sees the fragmentation in themselves

- Actually, Octet

My soul is grooved to run on iron nails I will rush through hearts of mountains Over gorges, under raging riverbeds Now, see if you can swerve me

- Sunset, Moby Dick

Quackity:

For years you study the monster Practicing your irony and outrage On a scraping violin 10,000 hours of shrieking malnutrition Your practice makes you master of the monster Your brain is chemically changed Your mind goes dark and strange And you fall apart Like a naked mannequin Clattering to the floor

- Monster, Octet

This crown I wear made of iron not gold, is so heavy Its jagged edge, it beats against my brain But the men I lead, their souls are sold, they’re ready Too burn and bleed and hunt until you’re slain

- Sunset, Moby Dick

Hannah:

The forest was beautiful My head was clean and clear Alone without fear The forest was safe I danced like a beautiful fool One time some time The twilight moon Smiling and winking Mist across my cheeks Murmuring magic Whispering soft Soothing green

- Hymn: The Forest, Octet

Tubbo:

I have a lot of memories And I have a lot of sadness But the two don’t line up The two don’t line up

- Tango Dancer, Ghost Quartet

Dream:

And I feel the moonlight whispering through my hair And let my thoughts uncoil and go somewhere else Where I can just not care

- Loop, Preludes

But now The woods are dark and cold Clogged with nettles and roots There is a monster And I am a monster

- Hymn: The Forest, Octet

Punz:

You and I We were always a mess Drinking our bourbon Screaming in the streets When I saw you coming Ice and rage in your eyes I put on my armor and my shield And raised up my sword

-  Hero, Ghost Quartet

Ranboo:

Now I don’t know But I’ve been told And that’s true of everything I think I know Everything I think That I don’t know But I’ve been told Yes I’ve been told

- I Don’t Know, Ghost Quartet

I dissociate all the time Like I’m not completely here right now I feel very far away from myself right now And I don’t trust myself anymore And I don’t love— Fuck it

- Actually, Octet

Sam:

And here Anatole With the stubborn attachment small-minded people have For conclusions they’ve worked out for themselves Repeated his argument to me for the hundredth time

- Preparations, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

Ponk:

Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but he didn’t speak ‘Til then he had reproached her, and tried to despise her But now he felt such pity for her That there was no room in his soul for reproach

- Pierre & Natasha, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

Michael:

Isolation, anxiety Inability to assimilate with society And the fear that the monster will find me Infect me and blind me Butcher my heart and distort my soul It’s starting to get to me It’s starting to get to me

- Hymn: The Forest, Octet

I am not a fucking luddite Or a cracked illuminati Or a stubborn crazy codger I am sane And I am telling you, the monster is real

- Monster, Octet

The Egg:

Come hither, broken hearted Here is another life Here are wonders supernatural Here is the face of God without dying

- Loomings, Moby Dick

Skeppy:

There’s a forest burning somewhere And the moon is red as blood But then I look in your eye and the fairies come And I’m squishing my toes in the mud I’m dancing on the stones of the oracle I’m kissing in the waterfall I’m under your spell, in a wishing well I’m lost and I don’t care at all

- Four Friends, Ghost Quartet

Bad:

I am a joyful person An optimistic person But sometimes I get scared You’ve been drowning so long in your ocean What if my boundless joy has a limit after all? And I’m not the rock you need to save you? You are in a hole And so I jump into the hole But I can’t get you out You are in a hole And so I jump into the hole But I can’t get you out

- Natalya, Preludes

Jack:

Well, what if I’m not big enough? To take in so much pain It beats on my brain I am going insane

- Glow, Octet

Someone in this room is trying to feel something Someone in this room is trying to have a beautiful moment Why won’t you let them? Why the fuck are you talking to me? You have no right To inflict your mind on mine

- The First Symphony, Preludes

Tommy:

I will stand in the dark for you I will hold you back by force I will stand here right outside your door I won’t see you disgraced I will protect your name and your heart Because I miss my friend

- Sonya Alone, Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812

I was okay once I can be okay again I’ve not gone crazy just yet I know what helps And I know what hurts

- Hymn: The Forest, Octet

Wilbur:

I watch myself reborn as an icon For awfulness and hate

- Refresh, Octet

Beneath us lurk the many monsters of the sea The horrors in the murk wait for me And I thought I could just dip my toes in Didn’t think I would lose my soul in this silver asylum But I let myself disappear I let myself disappear No one grew into anything new We just became the worst of what we were

- The Pacific, Moby Dick

Kristin:

Beyond right and wrong There is a field I will meet you there We will lie down in the grass Let the morning hours pass ‘Til the words you and I fall away And there’s nothing left to say

- The Field, Octet

[desperationandgin]

Where the Love Light Gleams

Rating: Mature

Also Read on: AO3

Summary: After an accident that changes Claire Randall's life, she comes face to face with the man who saved her.

Author’s Note: Welcome to the first fic for the inaugural Winter of Want! Thank you so much to @smashingteacups​ and @missclairebelle​ for being my partners in crime! Also, thank you to them as well as @happytoobserve​ for being betas! And thank you so much to @fierceweebadger​ for the beautiful moodboard she made! I'm so grateful to all of my people ❤ 

On with the story!

The Cellist

The first time he’d ever seen Claire Randall she was a broken woman, close to being consumed by flames, blood matting dark curls to her forehead and neck. She’d been hanging upside down by her seatbelt, and he’d worked to get her out while the rest of his crew battled the fire and pulled the driver from the wreckage.

A husband and wife who’d been heading home, according to the upside-down (but still functioning) GPS. Witnesses explained the husband swerved to miss a deer, sideswiped an oncoming truck, and flipped the car down an embankment. Sparks set the dry grass on fire, and by the time help had arrived, strangers were attempting to use any spare water they could to stop the blaze’s progress.

Jamie’d known the husband died instantly, but when he asked the lass what her name was during a moment of consciousness, she’d looked right at him and he had no doubt she would live. The sheer will in those amber eyes was too intense to go out, too stubborn. It had only been a second, but in that brief moment of awareness, she’d said her name as calmly as if they were on a still sea.

Claire.

She’d lost consciousness again after that, and Jamie had relinquished her to the medics. After his shift, he’d checked with the hospital, discovered she would live, and gone home. He’d thought about visiting her, but he was a stranger and her husband was dead. It didn’t seem like the time to introduce himself, though a part of him, perhaps, hoped that she would reach out to him, want to meet the person who saved her. The call never came, and he prayed the young widow was able to move on with her life, find some sort of happiness again. His dreams reminded him of her periodically, but over the next five years, all that he could remember were those eyes.

Until he walks into the Firefighter’s Charity Ball and there she is, on a stage flanked by seven others. Amid various Christmas decor, the woman he’d last seen bloody and fragile, plays the cello, the symphonic strains of O Come, All Ye Faithful filling the room thanks to the small octet. He stares, unable to look away, lips parting to see her so vibrant. So alive. She looks bonny, better than, with her curls floating like a cloud around her head. She’s in a simple black dress with the barest hint of her calves showing as she plays, and he’s sure he’s never wanted to know another woman this badly in his life.

Taking a sip of whisky as he admires the way she plays, the song fades, and she begins to put aside her bow. Before Jamie can look away, her eyes land directly on him.

She has no idea who he is.

He can see it in the way her gaze drifts immediately, looking out at the crowd before refocusing on her sheet music.

She has no idea that the man who saved her life is standing right in front of her.

It’s an hour before the musicians take a break, and Jamie finds her immediately, trying to decide how to approach her. He can’t very well ask her to recall something so horrible, so he introduces himself as a stranger, eggnog in hand to offer.

“Ye play verra beautifully, if ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he praises, holding out the glass. He’s formally dressed in his uniform and doesn’t miss the way her eyes land first at his chest, then make their way up slowly, taking her time.

At least he knows she’s interested.

“Thank you,” she replies with a soft smile and dip of her head. “I’ve always loved playing this time of year.”

“Does yer wee group make the rounds often around the holidays?” Jamie asks as he takes a sip of his drink, casually slipping a hand into his pocket, trying very hard not to think about wanting her.

Claire lets out a breath of air through her nose, a laugh, and smiles around the rim of her glass, shaking her head. “My wee group and I are part of the Scottish Symphony Orchestra. I’m first chair.” It’s an illumination dropped as casually as if she’d said she majored in English.

His eyes widen, adding her occupation and position with the orchestra to the list of things he knows to be true of her. (The others being her sheer will to survive and her determined gaze.) “That’s quite the achievement; I didna realize ye could ask for parts of the whole at an event.”

“Well, you can when you’re married to the conductor,” she informs him. “The event planner for tonight just happens to be, and this is a good cause, so I’m sure strings were pulled. No pun intended.” Claire meets his gaze with a softened one of her own. “Thank you. For risking your life to save others.”

He thinks she might tell him her story, a perfect segue for him to introduce himself, but instead, she simply tells him her name.

“I’m Claire Randall. It’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand, and his first thought is that she never remarried, though he mentally admonishes himself immediately.

“Jamie Fraser. And ye dinnae need to thank me, though I appreciate it. Do ye get to enjoy yourself this evening, or is it all business?”

“Oh, I’m strictly the help,” she replies with a dazzling smile that makes his knees weak and his heart pound.

Christ, he feels like an eejit trying to come up with a way to keep her talking, to not go anywhere and leave him without her warmth. “If that’s the case then, how would ye feel about taking down my number?” Something, anything to keep a connection between them.

Watching his face, Claire finishes off her eggnog before checking the time and setting her glass down. “I feel you should wait until after the event is over and walk me home. I’m only a few blocks up. Then we’ll see if your number’s earned a place in my phone.”

The way she smiles at him before turning to go back toward the stage makes him feel as though he might be the only person she’s ever smiled at in exactly that way.

Jamie’s plan, initially, had been to leave after dessert, two hours well-spent mingling. Now, as the third-hour rolls by and people begin saying goodbyes, he watches the mini-orchestra perform one last medley of songs. It’s a good opportunity to study how focused Claire is when she plays her instrument, how her fingers seem to float, moved by something supernatural. He notices now that her arms are solid and toned, idly wondering how many years she’s been playing. He longs to hear her alone, the spotlight only on her.

As the playing concludes, Claire’s eyes move from the sheet music to Jamie, the intensity of their stare causing the air to seemingly crackle around them. Neither of them moves, and so she’s watching as he frowns and looks down, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He isn’t the only one — five others seem to stop what they’re doing and check for something.

It’s immediately clear that he has to leave.

Knowing the party is over anyway, Jamie makes his way to the stage, meeting her halfway down.

“You have to go?”

“Aye,” he breathes out, watching as she reaches into the folds of her dress and pulls out a business card. Taking it from her, Jamie wastes no time, grabbing the pen from his breast pocket, writing his number, and returning the card. “Let this be on your terms, Sassenach,” he assures her, then lightly snags her hand, kissing the top of her knuckles softly.

He’s gone before she can ask him what the hell a Sassenach is.

The next night, armed with wine and her laptop, Claire sits (in the company of her ‘she adopted me’ black cat, Sesh, and a Joni Mitchell playlist) and Googles one Jamie Fraser of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Service. Clicking over to an image search, she takes a sip of wine and hums at the first photo on the page. It’s him, most assuredly, running in a marathon, sweaty, biceps proudly showing, and somehow looking directly into the camera.

“I sincerely hope there was an emergency last night, Sesh,” Claire mutters, feeling a pang of shame for the thought, but not for long; soon enough it’s replaced by sheer want, before even that’s replaced by a guilt different from the first. She’s been reassured, not by one friend or even two ganging together, but four, that she deserves to be happy again or, at the very least, deserves a good roll in the hay with someone.

Those had been Gillian’s words, agreed-upon emphatically by both John — and in the ultimate betrayal — Joe plus his wife. She knew five years was more than enough time, but since the accident, there’d been no reason to seek out something that would only leave her feeling emptier than she had before. No one captivated her attention, no one made her want to get to know them better. She’s been happy to not risk her heart again and live in a quiet bubble alone.

Until last night.

She’d glimpsed him after finishing the first song of the evening, her eyes attracted to that shock of red curls in the audience. When he’d approached her, she found herself unable to keep the flirting from rolling right off of her tongue. He’d undone her somehow in the span of perhaps twenty minutes, all told. She remembers his hasty exit, which reminds her to open a new tab and begin typing into the search bar.

Sass-

“Oh, bloody hell. What was it?” she mutters, trying to recall it, to sound it out phonetically.

Sass-in-ach

Claire goes with it, appreciates the Showing Results For Sassenach correction, and reads aloud, mumbling the words. “‘An English person.’ That’s not very creative, is it?” Though she has to admit, it sounded nice coming from him. It’s different, and she wonders if he calls every English person he meets the same thing.

Going back to her original search, she clicks out of the images, skimming the links until one catches her eye. The date, in particular.

January 24th, 2014.

The day of the accident.

Putting her wine down and sitting up straight, Claire hesitates a fraction of a second before pulling up the story. She’s immediately greeted by an image of her own crumpled and overturned vehicle, and for a moment, she can do nothing but stare at it, trying to remember herself inside. John had taken her to see it two weeks after the funeral, helped her get the things out of the boot (her cello, protected in its case, a suitcase and carry on from her recent trip to the States), and she hasn’t seen it since. When she’s finally able to scroll past the image, she reads about details she can’t remember, and then there’s Jamie, being praised as a hero.

“‘I only knew I had to get the lass out of the vehicle, so I paid no mind to the flames. I had to trust that my colleagues had control of the situation while I managed to cut the passenger free,’ explained Jamie Fraser, one of the first responders on the scene. Thanks to his quick action, the female passenger is said to be making a full recovery. His efforts will be celebrated by Chief Fire Officer Blunden—”

She doesn’t bother to read any further. Every thought she has seems to fall on top of the next until one finally becomes clear: Jamie Fraser saved her life.

“Oh, my God.”

Sesh seems unbothered, slow-blinking up at her as the pieces come together. He’d seen her, sought her out. Did he remember her? Know who she was at the event? It’s only after she’s dialed the number he wrote on her card that she realizes it’s very nearly one in the morning. “Fuck.” She’s moving her thumb to disconnect just as she hears a muffled grunt. Freezing in surprise, the phone goes back to her ear as she speaks quietly.

“Hello?”

“Was that a suggestion, Sassenach?”

His voice is low and thick with sleep, but somehow his humor’s still quick, and she coughs, wetting her lips. “No, no, only that I didn’t mean to call you so late. I lost track of—”

Christ, cut to the chase, Beauchamp.

“Do you remember saving my life?”

The silence on the other end hangs for what feels like hours, but she hears the faint sound of what she assumes is Jamie sitting up in bed, readjusting the grip he has on his phone.

“Aye, I do. Do you remember it, Claire?”

Closing her eyes, she tries, but her memory stops just after Frank picked her up from the airport. “No. You pulled me out of the car?”

“I cut ye free and then got ye clear of the accident.” He pauses, sitting in the dark of his flat, worried about her. “Ye dinnae need to think about it, Claire,” he tells her gently.

“You saved my life, Jamie, that’s what I’m thinking of. They asked me when I was in recovery if I wanted to meet you, but I couldn’t — I’d just lost my husband, I wasn’t thinking about meeting anyone.”

When Jamie speaks again, his voice is soft and even, meant to soothe. “There’s no reason ye need to explain anything. It was five years ago, Sassenach, and yer life was changed forever. I’m no’ going to hold anything against ye.”

For four heartbeats, quiet lingers between them before Claire speaks again. “I realize tomorrow is Christmas Eve, you’ve probably got plans of some sort, but I would like to see you if I can.”

If there’d been a hint of grogginess left in him, he’s fully awake now, squinting in the dark. “Ye dinnae have yer own plans?”

“Well, my husband died.”

Grunting in surprise at her response, Jamie rubs a hand over the top of his head, thinking. “I dinnae have anywhere to be until noon on Christmas Day, so my Eve is all yours, Sassenach, if ye want it.”

Christ, she doesn’t know if he meant to sound alluring or not, so she stays neutral. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Do ye ken where Victoria Park is?”

She’s nodding before she remembers she needs to respond aloud. “The park with the bowling greens?”

“Aye, and the walking paths. There are benches, good for sitting and talking for a while if ye’d like.” He meant it when he told her before that anything between them should be on her terms, and that was before she connected the dots. He doesn’t know what it is to lose a spouse, but he imagines the prospect of speaking about it is daunting.

In the silence that waits for her response, Claire looks down at the gold ring on her finger, thumb lightly stroking the cool metal. She tries to imagine it, her heart being wide open again and susceptible to breaking. Closing her eyes, she remembers that Jamie smelled vaguely of citrus and sage and the specific blue of his eyes was like an afternoon sky on a cloudless day. Comforting and warm.

It’s an easy decision when the memory of his gaze on her causes a flush.

“I would like that, Jamie.”

_______________________________________________________________________

They decide to meet at ten in the morning when the park is between hosting late A.M. joggers and parents with toddlers. She wanders toward the spot they’re meeting, under a grove of trees home to a row of benches. Slowing her pace as she approaches, Claire gives herself a few steps to admire him, the cut of his hips and the way his muscles move even under his coat.

Christ, he’s made an impression.

And then she remembers that this is the man who saved her life, features softening when he looks up and spots her.

“Ye made it. I was worried the directions were too vague,” he admits, standing to greet her.

“In the summer there’s a beautiful patch of wild yellow flowers just across the sidewalk. It’s gorgeous, I used to come often when I first moved here.”

They walk back to the bench together and sit, though neither one of them knows exactly how to begin the conversation. Eventually, it’s Claire who breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry. For not trying to find you after the accident.”

Jamie’s shaking his head before she’s done speaking. “Ye dinnae have to apologize for it, as I told ye last night.” He stops short of saying he was doing his job, but it was more than that. He knew it the moment she looked at him. “I did check in on ye, just to be sure ye’d be alright. But I kent there was no’ much I could do or say to make anything better for ye.” And he hadn’t wanted to drop in unannounced only to make things worse for her in some way.

Studying her hands, she drags her thumb along the lifeline, closing her eyes. She remembers getting into the car at the airport. Begging Frank to turn off talk radio so they could have a conversation. She remembers him laughing at something she said, and then, nothing. “I woke up in the hospital and couldn’t remember what happened. They told me there’d been an accident, and I think I knew my husband was dead before they said it.”

He moves his hand to cover one of hers without thinking, so when she squeezes his fingers he holds on tightly, aware now of the weight of her palm and the delicate skin of her wrist under his thumb.

“I didn’t touch my cello for a year afterward. I’d somehow convinced myself it was my fault, that if I hadn’t traveled to play, he wouldn’t have picked me up from the airport, there wouldn’t have been an accident.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I don’t believe that now, but it felt better to blame myself for a little while.”

She’s kept her grip on him, squeezing again as she takes a breath and lets it out slowly.

“When I finally got to ye,” he begins quietly, looking down at their hands, “ye were unconscious. I went to cut off the seatbelt and yer eyes opened, ye looked directly at me. I asked your name, and ye said it, so…” Jamie trails off, unable to find the right words for it. “As though ye’d been waiting for me to ask. Then ye were out again and that was the last I saw of ye.”

Her eyes fall to their hands as well, and she turns hers over so that their fingertips are touching.

“But I kent ye would live. I could see it in yer eyes, that ye’re a lass wi’ spirit,” he tells her with a soft smile. “And I ken ye know it now, but it wasna yer fault, Claire.”

She does know, but hearing it feels like balm on an aching wound. “Thank you for saving my life, Jamie.” Lifting her gaze, she studies his face and admires the sharp angle of his jaw, the tawny scruff there.

There’s something between them, he can feel it as if a living, pulsing thing. He’s aware of each breath she takes, the rise and fall of her chest; he feels it as surely as his own body moving, both of them separate pieces of a complete being.

“I’m glad that it was me, Sassenach. I cannae explain it, but—”

“But it was supposed to be you,” Claire finishes. Jamie was meant to save her, no one else could have.

Raising her hand to his lips, Jamie frowns lightly upon pulling back. “Your hands are like ice, Sassenach. Let me buy ye something warm,” he offers. “There’s a wee cafe nearby.”

In truth, if it were a way to spend more time with him, it didn’t matter what they did or where they went.

Claire smiles, charmed the moment he said wee.

_______________________________________________________________________

It was inevitable, really, that they fall into bed with one another. Under the pretense of dinner (which they did eat; an easy meal of pasta in lemon sauce and good crusty bread for soaking up the remnants), she’d agreed to go back to his flat. They’d both known it wasn’t going to be about the food for long.

She sleeps now with her head resting on his outstretched arm, facing him. His hand has been numb for hours, but he wouldn’t dream of moving her, not now. Not when he has the pleasure of seeing up close the light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. He can see the way her eyelashes curl upward slightly, and he revels in the feel of her breath falling against his skin. Reaching out, Jamie’s fingers lightly brush a stray curl from her cheek, his touch as gentle as possible so as not to wake her. Her skin is so delicate, like fine porcelain, and he slowly drags the tips of his fingers down her side. There’s a scar that begins on her hip, and he follows the feel of it down as far as he can reach. From the accident, she’d said, just before he’d leaned down to kiss the mark right in the center.

When Claire shifts, Jamie freezes, hand hovering as she finally moves off of his arm and tucks herself onto her side, with her back to him now. When she seems settled, he slowly moves onto his side behind her, curving his body into the hollow of hers. Tucking his legs behind her knees, he rests his hand on her hip, the other arm stretched protectively over her. Taking a chance, he ducks his head and kisses the beauty mark on her shoulder, his touch as light as he can make it. Then he finds he can’t stop himself from continuing his tender assault across her skin. She moves again, and his hand rests against her stomach, lightly holding on as he goes still.

“I’m not likely to go anywhere,” she whispers in the dark, hint of a smile in her voice.

Discovered, Jamie presses firmer kisses to her skin, giving up any pretense of being careful. “Good. I didna plan to let ye up from this bed soon,” he warns.

Smiling, Claire rolls herself under him, both of them shifting until he’s comfortably above her. Glancing toward the window, she raises an eyebrow, only able to see him in the dark because of a faintly glowing streetlamp. “From the looks of it, we still have plenty of sleeping to do.”

“Aye. Plenty of late night left. Which means plenty of time to sleep. In a bit.” He has no plans of letting her get back to it right away as his head ducks and lips press to the middle of her chest.

“You don’t seem very tired.” Already, she’s flushing, trying to anticipate where his mouth might go next.

“I’ve found my second wind, though I have a verra distinct feeling that it won’t be hard to want ye all the time.” He drops a kiss to the curve of her breast, marveling in the way her flesh softly yields.

“Does that mean you’d like to see me again?” she queries, voice soft, not wanting to assume.

Immediately, Jamie raises his head, eyes meeting hers so that she can see the truth of his words.

“I’d like to see ye every day for the rest of my life, Sassenach. If it suits ye.”

She’s so shocked by his words that she laughs; not at him but at the idea that she can laugh again, in the company of a man who wants her. “I’m sure we could work out some sort of arrangement, though I realize this time you have right now is a luxury.”

“It is,” he murmurs, resuming the self-imposed task of kissing her skin, dipping low to begin a slow descent. “But the consecutive days off are verra worth it, ye ken? If I have you to look forward to, I reckon I could get through anything.”

She sighs in contentment as her legs part to make a home for him. “You look forward to me?” She smiles softly, just as her breath catches at a well-placed kiss to her pelvis.

“Only someone wi’ out all five senses wouldna look forward to ye, mo nigheann donn.”

Claire stops him with a soft tug of his curls, and when he raises his head she arches an eyebrow, curiosity in her eyes.

“‘My brown-haired lass,’” he answers, knowing her question and bringing one of her legs over his shoulder, parting her with his fingers.

“I very much enjoy it when you speak to me in Gaelic,” she manages, getting it out while she can, knowing she won’t have the capability of thought soon.

Once more, Jamie raises his head, giving her a cheeky grin. “Laigh air ais fhad 's a tha mi agad.” (Lie back while I have ye.)

She has no idea what he said, but the timbre of his voice, the way his eyes darken — she knows it was filthy, but her amusement gives way to a soft gasp once his mouth finds the slick, heated center of her. A hand immediately moves to the top of his head, lips pressing together as she holds her breath for half a heartbeat and then cries out, back arching. Unable to help herself, she presses her thighs to the sides of his head, only easing up when one of his hands grips her hip tightly. His other rests on her belly, holding her down, keeping her grounded.

His head attempts to move with her body, following each spasm of her hips. He tastes her first climax; she coats his tongue and chin but he doesn’t stop, and when she comes again it’s around two curved fingers, the feel of her going straight to his cock. There’s a third, smaller shockwave, given while tucked against his chest, his hand between them.

Panting against his neck, Claire takes her time coming back to herself, basking in the feel of stretching when thoroughly satisfied. “You are very, very good at that,” she finally manages, very nearly purring in relaxation.

“Weel, I do aim to please, but admittedly, it’s no’ hard to want to make ye writhe like that all the time. Christ, the sounds ye make, and the way yer entire body grips me just so.” He’s hard and wanting, aching just a bit at the minutes-old memory. “Ye have no idea the gift ye are.”

His words strike her, and she pulls back, gaze soft as she reaches out, fingertips lightly pressing to his cheek.

“I’m only here because of you.”

Jamie wants to refute it, to insist that she did all the fighting to stay alive. But the truth of it is, she had needed him. She couldn’t have gotten out of that vehicle herself.

“Still. Ye lived, and I ken it was no’ easy for ye.” Lightly, he reaches out to drag his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Ye needn’t ever worry that ye cannae still grieve him. If this was too soon, too much—”

Claire stops him with the tip of a finger pressed to his lips. For a moment’s pause, she simply looks at him, holds his gaze and makes it clear that she would like to speak. When his lips press softly to her finger, her hand drops and she pushes him lightly onto his back, straddling his hips. That’s all she does, reaching for his hands and holding onto both of them, lacing their fingers together.

“I don’t recall saying anything was too much or too soon. What I can tell you is that for five years, I haven’t let myself feel a thing. Loneliness is a choice, or so they say. And I chose it because it’s a hell of a lot better than losing so much all the time.” She looks down, the hint of more loss than she’s willing to share playing across her features. “I thought it would stay like that, always.”

She’d convinced herself she was fine with it, that the less she risked, the fewer heartbreaks she would need to endure.

“That plan was working out very well for me until I met you,” she informs him, eyes creasing in the corners as she smiles before speaking seriously again. “I thought I’d lost the ability to feel anything close to this, after a while.” Want and lust and need for another person; all of those things had felt like lost causes.

“What is it about you, Jamie?” As she asks, her hips begin a slow rock against his. “How did you find me?”

He’s captivated by her words and movement, groaning at the feel of her gliding easily along the length of him. “I didna find ye at all,” he manages, raising his head a bit to watch himself disappear into her, finally, inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. Neither of them moves, her eyes closed while his are focused firmly on her face while he fights the urge to move right away.

“Ye came into my life, Claire, and ye never truly left.” A part of him has held onto her, even if it was only a single feature that haunted his dreams. Her soul imprinted on his, and he knows now that he’s complete with her, that it never could have been another way for him.

When she opens her eyes, they’re blown wide with pleasure, pupils dark and lids heavy. He’s staring right at her, and one of her hands reaches for his, bringing it over her chest. She rides him, slowly at first, while her heart pounds against his palm. The pulsing tempo increases beneath his touch as leisurely pleasure begins to turn into something more focused, more urgent. She leans forward, letting go of him only to brace her hands on his chest. He’s holding back, she can feel it, his belly tense beneath her.

When she speaks his name, it’s on a panting breath, and when his eyes open, he knows what she wants, can see it. Reaching out, his hands rest on her hips, and he looks at her one more time to be sure. When she nods, he shores up his grip and then slams into her once, hard, losing his breath at the cry of sheer pleasure it tears from her. He does it again, then again, pistoning his hips upward forcefully, quickly, driving noises from her so beautiful he’s not sure he’ll ever hear anything that could compare. He’s causing her to make those sounds, and he’ll be a damned man if he doesn’t strive to hear her as often as possible.

Jamie slows and Claire takes over, straightening her spine and beginning a pace that means she’s close; she has to be, because there’s no way in Christ’s name he’ll ever make it if not. His hands move up her body and cup around her breasts, squeezing enough to make her tighten around him involuntarily. His groan mingles with her cry of pleasure, and he wills his eyes open, needing to see her. When he does, he’s sure there’s not a better sight in all the world.

Her head is back, exposing the length of her neck, skin begging to know the imprint of his lips over and over again. Her hair sways back and forth, mussed curls seeming to tumble in all directions, and when her head falls forward, Jamie can see that she’s chasing her pleasure, forehead knit right in the center. She’s there, she’s close, and he sneaks one hand between them to touch, rolling that small bud of nerves beneath his thumb.

That’s all it takes for her to shatter, body pitching forward and nearly curling around his. Her breasts sway right before him and he doesn’t fight the urge to lean in, burying his face there. As her body tightens around his, pulling him in, his name becomes a choked cry, unable to get it out without whimpering in the middle.

She drops her hips one more time and Jamie tenses, arms wrapping around her frame. Her name is nothing more than a strangled sob as he spills into her, teeth lightly scraping her shoulder. He can feel her shaking against him but can do nothing about it; he’s not entirely sure if he’s able to move his arms and legs.

Eventually, there’s enough of a chill on cooling skin that Jamie reaches for the blankets, covering them up again. The silence between them is comfortable, and she stays right on top of him, unmoving as he begins to doze.

“You know, I’ve realized something,” she whispers, voice sleepy sounding and far away.

He hums, low in the back of his throat. “What’s that, Sassenach?”

As his fingers drag up and down her spine, she turns her head to press a soft kiss to his chest. “It’s clearly after midnight. Which means it’s technically Christmas Day.”

Opening his eyes, Jamie finds himself looking right at her, and his smile is easy, eyes alight with it.

“Well then, a nighean.” He leans in close, whispering the words across her lips, thankful for her, an unexpected gift. “Happy Christmas to ye.” He nuzzles her cheek, reaching down to playfully pinch her arse.

Her laughter fills the room, eventually carrying them to sleep.

[goodvibesandchemnotes]

I've got a few comments on this image.

This is pretty much spot on perfect. My only correction is the first two cols are more "useful, boring counterions" or "disturbingly strong reducing agents", halogens are extremely useful but all vaguely the same thing with varying oxidizing strength/softness. Group 1 (alkali) and 17 (halogen) are often lumped together as just M and X respectively, with increasing ionic strength and size varying for M.

I guess carbon's missing neighbors are pretty important still, Boron and silicon aren't just catalysts but aren't the normal heteroatoms NOPS. They're more like "NOPS, but only used as stable reaction intermediates", like I'm not gonna find phenylboronic acid in the wild nor in an over the counter product but I am ABSOLUTELY gonna have shelf stable phenylboronic acid in the lab for a Suzuki coupling or an anti-markovnikov oxidation. Or borohydride is the BEST reducing agent, ranging from BH4 for the strongest, to HB(OAc)3 or H3BCN. Aluminum hydrides are comparable but stronger, although you won't really find organoalanes just sitting on the shelf. Aluminum kinda falls into the catalyst only area outside of LiAlH4.

Or, organosilicon chemistry is something I poke fun at often because it's FAR more like organotin or organolead than classic organics, just without the electronegativity difference of carbon group metals. But aside from organic silicones like poly(dimethylsiloxane), trimethylsilyl [Si(CH3)3 or TMS] groups are indispensable when you need something that's bulky, relatively easy to move around while still being mostly inert.

Heavy pnictogens (As, Sb, Bi) and chalcogens (Se, Te) are pretty similar to their parent P and S (the periodic table starts at period 3 imo, only period 2 cares about the octet rule), just more toxic, more stinky, and generally more useless. Organoarsenic was the first ever branch of "organometallics" but hasn't been relevant in over a century.

The d block is all random catalysts and the f block is nearly useless tho that's nearly SPOT on. Cu, Zn, Hg, Pd, Pt are all useful but in the "$" category. It feels like it takes as long to learn each transition metal's uses as it does to learn all of organic 1, they just break the rules and I won't go into organometallics right now I promise (even though I'm foaming at the mouth over ferrocene two years later)

Actually I've literally never seen a group 2 element but magnesium in an organic recipe, ever. MAYBE calcium as a counterion, because calcium salts are more often insoluble while calcium ion itself is completely inert. Sr and Ba are like calcium but way more expensive and equally useless. Be is... actually just alien tech, I'm pretty sure, maybe we could use it but we don't bc its so rare and toxic. If anyone wants I'll post more about metals from an organic chemist's perspective.

Magnesium is EVERYWHERE bc it can form carbon bonds (grignard reagent RMgX is used to make dreaded carbon carbon bonds and is super easy to make, it's the first metal you learn) and the reduced metal doesn't immediately self destruct (like all other group 1 and 2 save Be) despite still being such a reducing agent it burns in pure nitrogen. Noble gases come in here, for being perfectly inert (save Xe) and Ar is the go-to inert atmosphere (similar weight and density to N2 or O2).

But, yeah, C H O N S P X M are the only REAL elements (in order), B and Si are Secret Elements, and everything else is a catalyst.

[prinsesa-ng-musika]

over and over again//an octet oneshot

I made a fic for our resident ego-surfer Jessica! She’s my favorite character from the musical so naturally I’d end up writing about her one day ^-^

Very much filled with headcanons so don’t try looking for certain parts in the script lol, just enjoy <3

Very light blood mention in the part with the stoplight, but other than that, well, if you can get through Octet, you can get through this.

also on my quotev! (@/hundredstorycity)

--

It was a long taxi ride home for Jessica. This gave her time to think, too much time, almost.

After the meeting ended, she immediately went out to hail a cab, and decided to head straight back to her apartment. Not like she would choose to stay outside for an extended amount of time in the first place, and it was already nighttime anyway.

Her phone was back in her bag; they all got their gadgets back from the box after the final hymn. Oddly enough, she didn't feel the urge to check it. Not like that was unusual. She always managed to keep away from screens the first few hours after a Friends of Saul meeting, but eventually those urges did come back, and she would never be strong enough to block them out completely.

Would she ever be strong enough? It's a question she's always pondered upon, albeit worded a bit differently. Back then, it was a question of "did she look strong in the eyes of others?". It was as if she were constantly insecure, always searching up stuff about herself because she wanted everything to be positive. In fact, that's why she joined the Friends of Saul in the first place! All of the veterans knew she was contacted due to her habitual ego-surfing. Even before the incident, "Jessica Schulte" would be the most commonly searched term in her browser's history. The video only made things worse.

Jess stared out the window for a bit, trying not to get too dizzy by the sights whizzing past. That ended up being easier than expected, because the heavy traffic led all the vehicles to move at a very slow pace.

Eventually, they reached an intersection, and the light was red. The already low speed dropped to a flat zero as the cars stopped.

"Ah, New York City, with all its cars, traffic, and the insane amount of stress among its civilians. There's a reason it's called the 'city that never sleeps'" the driver says, shifting the gears to neutral.

"Mhm." was all Jess could mutter in reply.

The view that she was currently looking at was suddenly obscured by a private car halting beside them. The backseat window was perfectly parallel to the one Jessica was looking out from. Inside the car seemed to be a family; a father driving, an older brother in the passenger seat, a mother and two other children in the back, and a baby in the mother's arms. How cute, thought Jess, a nice, loving family. Not very safe, though. Their windows are pretty lightly tinted, so it's rather easy to see through the glass-

With wide eyes, Jess quickly looked away and turned her head forward, making sure to obscure her face.

"Driver, are the windows of this taxi tinted dark enough?" she asks, rather paranoid.

"Well, just as dark as any other car in this city! Except for that one just beside us, I guess. They definitely should fix that; it's almost as if they want people to see inside-"

"Oh okay. Thank you." Jess interrupted. She didn't like conversations lasting longer than necessary, especially when they were about privacy. The stoplight was still a bright red, and Jess wished she could ignore how much it looked like the blood of a newly sacrificed lamb. She also wished that the light would turn green soon.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Miss, you alright back there? You look as if someone's chasing you. On the run, or something?" He laughed.

Jess shook her head. "No, not on the run." More like in hiding.

"Hm." The driver did not sound convinced. "Whatever you say."

Seconds later, the light turned green, and they were set to go. Jessica breathed a sigh of relief as the car next to them took a turn and was now out of sight. She didn't care if it made the driver more suspicious; there were more than enough strangers judging her even without this one.

Instead, she turned her thoughts towards the family in that car, which led her to think of her own family. A beautiful trio they were, a father, a mother, and one lovely daughter. Yes, she had no siblings, but her parents did treat her like an absolute princess, so she definitely enjoyed the solitude. Sometimes her peers would tell her she grew up as the archetypal only child: spoiled, whiny, and always in need of attention. Okay, so maybe the last bit was kind of true, but the rest of them weren't! Not her fault that she grew up in a loving, functional family without any other children in the household!

Then she thought of her other, less functional "family". The Friends of Saul. Though she was a stranger to Saul himself, whoever he was, she was starting to feel a familial kind of relationship with the rest of the group's members. She thought of her first meeting, and how paranoid she was that people would break the rule of avoiding feedback because they didn't like her, and how relieved she was when that didn't happen. She thought of Paula, who'd been her leader for as long as she had been in the group, since she had never met Saul herself, and how kind and gentle she had been to all of them. She thought of today's meeting, and the octet of addicts that were present. Some of them she saw more commonly, and some of them she'd only seen a few times before. She thought of the new girl, Velma, and how awkward yet open-minded she had been. Jess felt rather self-concious when everyone looked at her after told Velma that they were at letter E, but later on she realized it was worth it, and that Velma must have been a thousand times more self-concious than she was.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity of a ride, the taxi arrived at its destination. Jessica paid the driver and muttered a quick thank you, then made her way to the front of her apartment. As she made her way up the stairs, she felt the urge coming back. The Monster, beckoning her to check her feed and watch her own ruin. She decided she wanted to do something else to distract her from that. So her thoughts drifted to the last part of that night's meeting, after they had completed the Tower Tea Ceremony and listened to Velma's share. Karly and Henry were having a quick little conversation about how their experiences were, then Jess suddenly joined their conversation, causing the two to look at her in amusement. Gosh darn it, she thought to herself, I've never been a shy person, so why was that so hard for me?

Finally, she ended up in front of her door. Fishing out the keys from her bag, she remembered what exactly it was she had told the two of them. Smiling to herself, she decided she would try making her own bread.

[lesbianmuppet]

Top 5 musicals

oh man oh man OH MAN holy shit this got long. oops!!!

1. natasha, pierre & the great comet of 1812

i made a novel length post earlier today about why i love this show so i will keep this brief but. it changed my life in such a huge way and i miss it every single day of my life. :(

2. octet

OH MAN theres a reason a song from octet is my blog title and its because of the intense hold this show has over my brain. i saw it last summer and the writing blew me away and i just. totally adored it. malloy has talked about the textual link to ocd this show has and later in the year the ocr came out right at a ridiculously difficult time in my life when i got diagnosed with ocd. it was so helpful for me to understand my ocd and feel so heard by an artist that already meant so much to me. i can go on for hours about how amazing the writing of this show is, and while some parts of it arent perfect i think the structure makes up for that.

3. ghost quartet

last malloysical i promise. i found gq the way most ppl did, wanting more of comet, and i think its such a brilliant example of how skilled malloy is at writing. like comets writing is BEAUTIFUL and it takes so much skill to adapt something, but ghost quartet is mostly daves original work and so you can see just how skilled he is. also the whole concept of “a bunch of stories about two women” is so unbelievably everything i love and when you add “soulmates but instead of being in love they want to kill each other so Fucking bad” and “creepy folksy music” its even better. also when i saw it gelsey handed me a tambourine during any kind of dead person :0)

4. once on this island

oh man oh man oh man i can watch ooti a million times and uncontrollably weep every single time. besides comet, this is the other show that made me change my major to production design because GOD the costumes and scenic design in this show are so endlessly amazing. also the whole thesis of the importance of storytelling and tragedy and hope fits in so well with so many of my other favorite shows (ghost quartet & hadestown specifically.) i first saw the revival a few days after it opened and since its in the round, i was sitting across from someone who i could clearly see was visibly weeping the entire show and it was one of the most beautiful experiences to emote so hard Together. one of my best theatre experiences :’)

5. a tie between head over heels and jagged little pill

my imperfect non-biopic jukebox musicals about gay and trans people :’) jlp was the last show i saw before quarantine that i didnt work on and i Openly wept at you oughta know. seeing a nonbinary lesbian on stage pouring their heart out GOT ME... structurally its very flawed but its got so much heart that its still such a great show. also kicked off my big love for alanis

i ffffucking adore the gogos so like. english renaissance period piece but with gogos music AND its about gay and trans people? AND it has some of the best production design and choreo of all time???? sign! me! the! fuck! up! the show itself is about gender and there are some. confusing joke choices in the book that contradict the message theyre trying to get across, but the fact that there are multiple nonbinary and wlw characters and that the final message is about respect, love, and identity mean a great deal to me.

ask me my top 5 anything!

[linskywords]

Quarantine Tag Game

Are you staying home from school/work? Working from home -- pretty lucky in that I can still do my job that way!

If you’re staying home, who is there with you? My roommate is also living from home, and my boyfriend (also working from home) lives a short walk away, so I’ve been splitting my time between our apartments. We’ve been a pretty closed germ circle so far, but now that everyone’s been isolated for 2+ weeks, I’m getting together with my immediate family for Easter weekend.

Are you a homebody? Mostly! It hasn’t bothered me too much, but I’m veeeeery excited about wandering the forest near my parents’ house this weekend.

An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? My friends and I had a couple of musicals we were going to perform this spring (Wicked and Octet). Octet is this super obscure Dave Malloy show about the internet, eight voices (shockingly) with no accompaniment, and I was super looking forward to learning and performing the musical. That’s the thing I’m most hoping we’re able to reschedule after this is over.

What movies have you watched recently? Parasite: stunning, amazing, masterpiece of cinema. Onward: pleasantly surprised, would recommend! Also, boyfriend and I have been watching the Fast and the Furious series with friends of ours over Zoom. I’d never seen them before, and so far I’d have to say: 1 - good but weird ending; 2 - fluff; 3 - what; 4 - good; 5 - amazing.

What shows are you watching? Nirvana in Fire, my one true love. Also this amazing Korean reality/game show called The Genius.

What music are you listening to? Delta Rae’s new album, so good.

What are you reading? Hatchet, for my YA book club. Animorphs #45, for next week’s podcast episode. Just finished Trust Fall on AO3. A friend’s manuscript that I was supposed to read like two months ago (oops).

What are you doing for self-care? Writing is good self-care for me, so I’ve been trying to get back to it after a couple of very unfocused months! Hanging out with new bf. Baking, when I can find the supplies. Going for walks and trying not to get stressed out by sidewalk distancing.

Any big projects you’re working on? I’m mostly trying to get back into a regular writing habit. I’m working on the first novel of a series roughly modeled after Animorphs, with more of a horror flavor, but I’m not sure what publishing genre it fits into. Do middle-grade series still exist like they did in the ‘90s??

Plans for when the quarantine is over? All the musical theater! Go out to Utah and visit my best friend. Be in a room with >2 friends again.

@aohatsu tagged me in this. I tag @miss-malheur, @ohblushes, @kwriteshockey, @bisexualtylerseguin!

[fourteenacross]

end of 2019

I've done this survey every year since like, 2006 and then missed it last year because I was on a social media break. Whoops! My shitty memory makes it fairly important as a way to track the passage of time, so I'm back on the horse this year.

What did you do in 2019 that you’d never done before? I'm sure there's some specific thing, but nothing's coming to me immediately. Oh, I guess I started cross stitching? Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I'm not sure what my resolutions were for last year because I did not write them anywhere because I did not do this meme /o\ Next year: + Set up some kind of writing schedule + Finish my mg novel + Survive moving + Get a new job + Go on more dates

eta: Outside of these sort of concrete, 2do-list type goals, I set some more nebulous personal goals on Twitter: - See my local friends outside of the BFC more often - Do weird, dumb shit - Be nicer to myself - Fix my meds - Bake something fancy(Okay, that last one is kind of 2do-listy.) Did anyone close to you give birth? YES!! @caphairdadbeard had a baby and he's perfect and I love him and it kills me that he's so far away and I only get to see him a few times a year, even more so than it usually kills me having Sarah so far away. Did anyone close to you die? My former roommate's father. I did a lot of family stuff with her over the decade that we lived together and spent a lot of time with her parents and he was super loved and admired by his community. A real shitty loss all around. What countries did you visit? Just the US, but I visited Seattle and Mississippi for the first time! What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019? ~*~Financial security~*~ What dates from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I'm so terrible with actual dates. May 9 was Max's birthday, so there's that? We did a lovely, successful live show on April 18. OH we went to Rent Live and had our wild weekend in LA on January 26. We watched a lot of wild movie musicals at Grace and Jesse's in July. I saw Blair Witch in the woods. I went down to the city to see Octet and Hadestown. Lisa moved in with me. Moby-Dick happened. Now I'm just listing events and not dates, but there you go. What was your biggest achievement of the year? God, do I even have one? I'm not dead, so that's probably something. Oh, I guess we had a really good WBS month where we were interviewed by Forbes.com, had one of our crossovers with IDEOTV, guest edited TBD, and had our live show. That was a really satisfying few weeks. What was your biggest failure? I'm haunted by this work thing I fucked up, even though everyone has told me it wasn't a big deal. I really crash and burned out for NaNo because SAD hit me way harder and faster this year than it has in the past. Did you suffer illness or injury? Lots of brain stuff, as per usual. A couple minor colds. My FAMILY on the other hand.... What was the best thing you bought? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Tickets to Octet, maybe. It was probably my favorite show of the year. The new chair/loveseat is also very good. Whose behavior merited celebration? Some of my friends. A lot of excellent activists. Sarah's baby (he's very good). Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Like, the whole government? Where did most of your money go? Grown-up type stuff (rent, utilities, groceries), cons, and travel. What did you get really, really, really excited about? LA, Octet, Max, DragonCon, Moby-Dick. Galentine's! What song will always remind you of 2019? Probably music from Octet? I don't like.....listen to the radio. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Probably about the same? Maybe more stressed out by family stuff going on and money stuff. b) thinner or fatter? Same. Also, I hate this question. 2020 Kaitlyn, delete it plz. c) richer or poorer? About to be poorer. What do you wish you’d done more of? Writing. Sleeping. Going on dates. Hanging out with people. What do you wish you’d done less of? Being depressed. Being stressed. Did you fall in love in 2019? Nope. What was your favorite TV program? If we're talking "currently airing" and not "things I bingewatch that are very old," probably The Good Place--OH I almost forgot Good Omens was this year!!! Also that! And I started watching Schitt's Creek and watched all of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Oh, and I started watching some videos on the Bon Appetit YouTube channel, mostly Gourmet Makes and Making Perfect and Reverse Engineering. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Mostly just like...........people I don't actually know who are terrible humans. What was the best book you read? Coming soon to a podcast feed near you! What was your greatest musical discovery? Probably Octet? I don't think I listened to a lot of new music this year. OH WAIT, The Highwomen!!! What a good album!!! (Also in doing the theatre section I just remembered Six was this year too!) What did you want and get? Mostly material things--clothes, cons, travel, seeing people, tickets to things, etc. Impeachment. Got that. That was nice. What did you want and not get? Financial security. A new job. Emotional stability. A relationship. More sleep. What was your favorite film of this year? Captain Marvel, although Us, Charlie's Angels, and The Wind were very good too. What was your favorite theatrical event of the year? Probably Octet! The broadway version of Hadestown was kind of disappointing compared to the 2016 NYTW version and Moby-Dick is great fun, but still pretty rough in places. Octet is just.....very good.  Oh, or SIX, that was great too! Octet or Six. Oh, and, jesus, this year was a hundred years long, I totally forgot we saw Denee as Eliza this year!! She was very good!! And I got to see Daniel Breaker as Burr again and I fucking love him. What was your favorite podcast of the year? The Empty Bowl, a meditative podcast about cereal. It is so good for zoning out and being calm. TAZ has been killing it with the one-shots and the Amnesty arc, too, and this was the first year I listened to MBMBaM weekly and also I mainlined all of Sawbones after listening to half of it, then not listening to any for six months, then deciding to start from the beginning again. Unwell is a really good show that I recommend, and Mabel. The Magnus Archives killed it with season four, which was tailored to my exact narrative tastes. MFM and Criminal are perpetual faves. American Hysteria was super interesting to go through and Bear Brook and In the Dark both obviously had fucking fantastic years. Oh, and Who the Hell is Hamish? that was fun too. And I’ll stop now.

I.....listen to a lot of podcasts. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 34! On the day, I went out for dinner and drinks with some friends. That weekend, I bought a bunch of children's Captain Marvel birthday supplies and we played Jackbox games and ate cake! What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Any sort of fix to our current political mess. And/or financial stability. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019? The "Whimsical" section on eShakti. What kept you sane? Friends! Podcasts! Anti-depressants! Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Brie Larson and Starr Busby are the first that spring to mind. What political issue stirred you the most? It’s hard to pick just one when the whole country is on fire. Who did you miss? Pretty much everyone when they are not right next to me. Sarah Bay, a lot, but I feel weird singling one person out. [This is exactly what I wrote for the last four years, but I’m keeping it because it’s still true.] Who was the best new person you met? Did I meet new people this year? I know I internet-met a couple people, but I'm not sure if I in-person made any new friends? We hung out with this girl Jenn at con a bunch, she was pretty cool! edit: oh my god MAX I met MAX this year because he did not exist last year!!! Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019: Do not invite folks to sit on a panel unless you know they'll stick to the goddamn topic agreed on in advance. Quote a song that sums up your year: And no one grew into anything new / we just became the worse of what we were

(I think this is the third year in a row that Dave Malloy has been my lyric of the year.)

Anyway, that’s 2019 for me. I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go. The last half, in particular, was super rough. Hell, the last week was super rough--guess how many members of my family have been in the hospital in December! If you guessed “six” you would be correct!! (Everyone is more or less fine.) 

But, hey, it also brought me my tiny nephew and two Dave Malloy musicals, so it wasn’t all bad! 

I hope 2020 treats you all well, friends!

[youwalkwoman]

Medusa The Musical Masterpost

(lots of M’s, wow.)

So, Medusa The Musical (Click the link, it’s the website) is an upcoming musical that tells the story of the myth of Medusa🐍. You can listen to it here.

So, you want to know more about the show and the people involved?

Easy! Below I’ve linked sources to the original myth, and other works by the people involved.

The Source

Like all Ancient Greek Myths, there’s no singular “source” for the tale of Medusa. This handy link here, however, is a good starting point, it’s sort of like a sparknotes of it. Linking anything else would be a huge rabbit hole of infinite websites/reading materials, so just start with that one for now!

The Crew

So, Medusa’s creative team consists of a lot of cool future Tony Award Winners. They have bios on the website, but I’ll link (some of) their projects here for easy accessibility and as a summary. If I leave something out, its due to my own ease and accessibility, not because I see it as an unimportant project.

The show was written by Wes Braver and Rachel Dean. Wes Braver has worked on other shows in the past such as Hear No Evil in the Year 2090, Galapago, the song cycle Space Cases, and the concept album METADATA. He also wrote songs for the moviemusical Chatsworth and he wrote the score for the film Youth. Rachel Dean has played the piano for the Broadway productions of Hamilton and Moulin Rouge! - pretty mighty résumé, if you ask me! Gods, only in my pipedreams will I get to do that. She's working on other shows too - The Anxiety Project, Unmasked, and The Ballad of Janis Matthews and the Dodo Scouts! [Also, insert a Preludes joke about a “Rach” who plays the piano here.] Sylvie Scowcroft is the producer! She also worked on Hear/2090 and Galapago with Wes, and she's produced Company by Sondheim as well in the past! Hot damn!

Chloe Treat is the director - hell yes I pretty much exclusively stan female directors at this point, especially in the Greek Myth shows field. As an anecdote, Chloe is in a relationship with Or Matias, who was the MD for some Dave Malloy shows such as Preludes and Octet and Great Comet, so it’s cool that I get to stan another musical theatre power couple! (Seriously, I knew that I recognized the name.) As for Chloe, you can find some stuff on her website. She’s mostly directed college/university shows, but she also did Eco Village off-Broadway. Looking back, that makes me even more sad to have missed that show.

Matt Castle the music director and oh I love him already because he’s been at the Signature Theatre in the past. Most of his stuff is regional - but he did do a number of off-Broadway shows and was an actor in the Company 2007 revival! He's also currently working on Scotland PA off-Broadway with his husband as an orchestrator!!

Kate Lumpkin is the casting director. Waaayyy too much to list here. Here is her website for ease.

Kai Harada is the Sound Designer. He worked in some Broadway shows I love such as Head Over Heels, The Band's Visit, Amélie, Sunday in the Park With George, Fun Home (lesbian rights!), and a couple of A.R.T. and Off-Broadway shows, etc.

Frank Galgano is the Creative Consultant. Guess what - he’s married to the music director, Matt Castle! 🏳️‍🌈It appears as if a lot of their work seems to intersect!

Evan Bernardin Productions/Gwynne Richmond is the general management team. Another hefty list of other projects, needless to say, so I’ll just link y’all to their site.

The Cast

Oh boy, I love the Medusa cast so much. Particularly Kuhoo Verma. But more on them later. Half the cast has been in either a Dave Malloy show or Nikola Tesla Drops The Beat, which are my two Niche Theatre Brands™️ - that and the fact that its a Greek Mythology musical makes me legally obligated to stan forever, as the cool kids say. But I digress!

The show features Alexia Sielo as Medusa herself. She was an understudy in We Are The Tigers Off-Broadway and is a cofounder of womenofcoloronbroadway!!

L. Steven Taylor will be portraying Perseus, and he’s been in The Lion King (Broadway) several times - you can see behind-the-scenes pictures on playbill.com!

Kate Shindle is Athena, and she’s also the president of Actor’s Equity, which is....incredible, honestly. She was Vivienne in the Original Broadway Production of Legally Blonde.

Theo Stockman is Poseidon. He's been in Hair, American Idiot, and American Psycho.

Heidi Blickenstaff is Steno. She’s been in numerous shows as well, like Something Rotten!, The Little Mermaid, [title of show], and The Full Monty.

Ally Bonino is Euryale, and the project I primarily know Ally from is a weird electronic rock musical that portrays Nikola Tesla as a DJ who gets into rap battles with Thomas Edison. She played his pigeon friend and her solo slaps.

Mykal Kilgore is Tiresias - he was also in Tesla along with Ally - he was Edison! He also writes solo music, and he has an album called A Man Born Black, which is really lovely. He was in the Jesus Christ Superstar concert as well!

Vivienne Cleary will be Eritha, and she’s very up-and-coming. She's done a lot of regional stuff and the off-bway production of Once Upon A Mattress.

Kuhoo Verma is Karphathia... Kuhoo fucking Verma, y’all, the person that I cried in front of at Octet. Kuhoo is a legend. She’s barely 23 years old and she’s already out here living her best life! She’s also openly nonbinary and queer, which makes me really happy. She’s been in Octet by Dave Malloy (!!!) and The Big Sick (a movie, not a musical/play, highly recommended). She’s also very sweet. I have a bit of a crush on her, not gonna lie.

Nick Belton is Antiochus/Archon, and he has also worked with Dave Malloy in the past. He starred in Great Comet as Andrey/Old Prince Bolkonsky. He was also in the most recent Carousel revival! He starred in Hair too, so that’s another former project that some of the cast members share.

Last but never least, Justin Gregory Lopez is Belo, and he was also in Octet along with Kuhoo Verma!!

Long story short, this musical is a masterpiece with super talented people in it and I am hyped.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

guys i miss octet so much,,, i think it’s my favorite malloy musical now and i miss it so much

[deli-counter]

multiples of 3

Thank you so much!!!

3. Already Answered

6. deh novelization: yay or nay?

I could not give less of a shit of deh and whatever it is they chose to do unless they get miss lupone to sing for forever

9. favorite starkid show?

I really do nonironically love and adore and cherish Starship and would love to do it

12. who’s your squip?

i had to look at the bmc wiki page for like 20 minutes and i still don’t get it but I’m gonna say Claire Saffitz 

15. does it feel weird when actors who already have principal roles understudy a different one? 

I mean yeah but get that money you know!! do you what you gotta 

18. worst tonys performance?

i dunno -- there’s tons of musicals I don’t care for but the actors for these shows are always usually top notch so idk it’s more about material than performance on the whole I feel 

21. best love duet?

as long as you’re mine slaps fuck y’all 

also just like.... all of orpheus and eurydice’s stuff is truly so so romantic 

i’ll cover you is always a damn joy 

If I Loved You from Carousel :’)

23. name an obscure musical you like that you secretly have a hipster complex about

is any musical really that obscure???? idfk octet??? 

25. favorite non bmc iconis song?

i know nothing of these kings 

27. favorite non great comet malloy song?

hero from ghost quartet and solo from octet ruined me 

29. is there a play you’d like turned into a musical? talk about it

ehhh not particularly? oh wait I’d love to see someone take clare barron’s work and just make it psycho modern crazy musical shit 

31. is there a tv show you’d like turned into a musical? talk about it

succession but the only song is “and whoever’s best is going to get a kiss from daddy” 

this is more of a book series but series of unfortunate events would be such a fun musical 

oooh russian doll 

33. is there a musical you want turned into a movie? talk about it

where’s my horrific urinetown movie!!!!!!

[saltine-kakyoin]

🎶Polnareff?

macross, hi!!! before i go off the deep end about everyone’s fave himbo, i just want to let you know ur header + blog title were a double fuckin whammy and i was NOT ready to read them at 3 am, hhdhgh. anyhow, thank you so much for asking!!

octet- I copied the link so it’d start at 3:49, but if it didn’t transfer over, this song only applies to him from that point on! c: this interpretation is based heavily off of my own hc for the sda, so i apologize if it doesn’t make too much sense otherwise! in my head, after the crusade, polnareff takes iggy back home w him to his family’s house in sancerre and finds himself, for the first time in years, just really lost. There’s this huge sense of finality with coming back to that house- the last time he was there was right after sherry’s murder... Although J. Geil is long dead now, being there is such a lonely thing (despite iggy’s presence), and he’s acutely aware that something is missing without being able to place his finger on WHAT. It takes one phone call from the still-hospital-bound Kakyoin going “Polnareff you would not Fucking Believe it...abdul.. that son of a bitch, he’s not dead! we have to go reunite w him!!” to realize that the suffocating absence he’s been dealing with is Abdul’s. Having him back after thinking he was dead for so long was such a wonderful thing.. and then he actually was dead- or so Polnareff thought! So the Crusaders all reunite after months of being in a funk, and Abdul appears to them... ; o ; (the part w the piano and “oooo”s after that line is like a really pretty transition to the avpol wedding in my head but this is not 100% necessary for the song so. ghhdhgjashgsghahg)

see you again- kind of a funky choice for polnareff, but i think it ties in really well to him missing sherry and abdul so desperately and really being Cool with dying just so he could actually be with them again. I know this song got a lot of mainstream attention, but i feel like it’s such a funky beat that really suits polnareff’s Litch rally Mad personality well. + the vulgar parts are good for him as well, lest we forget his is a Stupide Himbeaux.

the impossible dream- We only get honorable and chivalric polnareff for 3 seconds (rest in peace king... 3) but whenever I like seriously brainstorm or write about polnareff, I always find myself coming back to this song. Something about it always makes me indescribably sad, which is also how I feel when I think of polnareff throwing away the last of his youth to sell his soul, basically, to a vampire in pursuit of the man who raped and murdered his sister (that the vampire is also employing!!)...everyone rags on polnareff, but his story makes me like Deeply sad. he’s fr fr the man of la mancha....

rest and recreation- this song kind of ties into the sentiment from the last song. it starts off like, “aha it is time to party and get laid yeehaw” but then has a short “oh god...life is horrific” interlude in the middle, which I feel is really Polnareff. I think that Phoebus and Polnareff are kind of similar characters, and that Polnareff would translate into this song Very well. (plus in the end of this song, phoebus’ plans to party and get laid are cut short by frollo, which....what big polnareff energies lmao)

season 2 episode 3- another song that sounds fun but is then like “oh no...baby what is you doin” once you take a proper gander at the lyrics. like, “Leftover breakfast, cereal for lunch/ She's broken but she's fun/ My girl eats mayonnaise from a jar when she's gettin' blazed/ She's drunk on old cartoons, liquid TV afternoons/ Sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me sad.” OOF. i feel like this ties in really well to the childish parts of polnareff while also addressing that this man... he’s not doin too good boss :( 

[clonerightsagenda]

Let’s see if the tuesjade tag accepts my offering this week. I’ve truly hit the apex of barely mentioning the prompt and then doing something else entirely. Tbh this only exists for the betas arguing over soft drink nomenclature. Otherwise I would’ve scrapped it bc it’s kind of boring.

Tuesjade prompt: old-fashioned

 You grew up talking with the gods of universe B2, but you grew up reading about the ones from B1 in the tattered volume left in your meteoric prison. When you look at them, you can almost see the loops and curls of Rose's handwriting superimposed over their faces. "Forgive me the quaint device of introducing the cast of characters," she'd written, "but if anyone finds this account in the future, they might as well know in whose incapable hands the fate of reality was entrusted, if only they can curse the gods by name." You’d thought it was funny, then. Now, as you watch the gods of the new world argue over whether to put chunky or creamy peanut butter on the shopping list, you think she had a point.

"We only have the illusion of freedom," Rose reminds them. "Jane's father will be double checking whatever we decide on anyway, so we don't splurge on personal twelve-packs of Mountain Dew."

"Now we have to do that," Dave says. "Alchimeters never got the carbonation right."

John elbows his sister. "You've been missing out on drinks that can go up your nose."

"Like sasparilla?" she asks.

He frowns. "Saspa-what?"

"It's an old-fashioned word for a kind of soda," Rose tells him.

"You mean pop," John says.

Dave holds up an admonishing finger. "I'm afraid it's coke.”

Rose shakes her head. "That's a brand."

His alternate self interjects. "Coke transcends brands. That's two to one, you're outnumbered."

"That's not fair," John says. "It's like you're voting twice."

Jade groans. "I'm sorry I said anything about your silly sugar water."

The beverage taxonomy issue is tabled, and they settle on creamy peanut butter. Rose leaves to deliver the list to Jane’s father, and the boys depart bickering over voting rights. Jade stays seated, rolling the pen they were using away and calling it back with flicks of her index finger. Beyond the glare of the Green Sun, her power is muted, but she’s working on finer control.

You can see Rose sitting in the paneled halls of your meteor, pen to paper. Jade Harley, our session’s Witch of Space. The only one of us with any common sense. I should have more to write about her than I do, but she kept a lot to herself. Does she not trust us?

Maybe I should have asked better questions.

Rose described her friends for you in anecdotes and psychological sketches. She’d tried to stay clinical for imagined posterity, providing bulleted lists of their strengths and weaknesses and making predictions for what her absent friends would be like in three years. At times, though, especially later in her journal, sentiment had crept in. She’d share an anecdote, comment on some trivial detail and then apologize for it. That’s how you came to know them. In truth, text is how you came to know everyone, when all your interactions were through messages you sent to each other, what you chose to share or keep to yourselves. You love words, but they can only do so much. They condense people to characters, and when they do, it’s so easy for those characters to go off script.

“I use the wrong words too,” you say.

Jade looks up. The pen skitters off the table, unheeded. “What?”

“I didn’t have anyone to tell me how to speak. I learned from things that were left behind.” The laptop your troll semi-guardian left behind for you contained old chats with strange slang – words like hive and respite block. You’d hoped a foreign affect would hide the idiosyncrasies, but your anachronisms were from a lot further than across the pond.

“I noticed when I met you,” Jade says. “You didn’t lift your questions at the end. I used to do that.”

Questions rise in pitch, you���ve found. A flat tone means it’s a statement in disguise. Words gain so much based on how they’re spoken. They don’t have that life on the page, only a semblance given by italics, underlines, emoticons. You have a lot to learn.

"I mispronounced things too,” Jade continues. “I thought purpose rhymed with propose, it sounded stronger that way. And Dave said he'd pay me to ask Rose about "peskyology" when we all met up."

"Pesky...” You hesitate. “Oh, psychology?"

"That's right." She laughs. “It fits, doesn’t it? Especially since she uses it to mess with people’s heads.”

“I suppose it does.”

“The dictionary had a pronunciation guide, but the IPA is confusing. It was bad enough that I didn’t know which words I should use… people laughed when I used the bigger ones, so I tried to stop.” She sticks out her tongue. “I don’t dumb myself down anymore, but then my vocabulary isn’t as surprising at sixteen as it was as a kid.”

You nod. "It’s hard to know what to say sometimes. Dirk and Roxy did something similar before they revealed they were from the future.” You remember the way you all danced around each other – you concealing your true species, Dirk and Roxy trying to talk like they hailed from 2011, Jake with his bravado and Jane not wanting to admit she was an heiress. “It's like we were all putting on our own acts."

Jade retrieves the pen from the floor with a ‘come here’ gesture and clicks it closed. "I know what that's like."

“It’s hard growing up alone, isn’t it?”

She touches an ear with a self-conscious laugh. “It’s a miracle I didn’t grow up totally feral.”

Feral. When you’d been truly alone, is that what you were? No, your other self was stone-smooth and just as hard, more like a goddess than a child in the garb of one. You know which version you prefer. “I’ve seen what I would have become. I’m glad I had what I did.”

Jade shakes her head. “I can’t even imagine how bad I might have gotten without people to talk to. When we made it through our first session and I wasn’t living alone anymore, that was the best day of my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even with all the problems and arguments that came after.”

An argument would be a good collective noun for the group of you. But you wouldn’t give it up either. From the moment John came for you after you’d risen, bewildered, in the wreckage of your session, you’d been dragged into a whirlwind of colours and mayhem, and you wouldn’t trade in a moment of it. You’re no longer watching a story of an octet of faraway gods, their consorts, and their compatriots. You’re living it.

Rose had compared them, tongue in cheek, to archetypes from a heroic narrative. The fearless leader. The reluctant hero. The sacrifice. “I guess I would be the bad one,” she wrote. “The one who doubted the fantasy paradise they’d stumbled into. It’s not inaccurate. I’m still not sure I was wrong.”

Jade had been labeled the wise one. That was the part you’d carved out for yourself too, the mysterious messenger bearing knowledge and keeping secrets. Rose had placed them into those rote roles to mock the practice, but it caught your fancy. Once upon a time, you painted people in broad strokes. But you’ve met a version of yourself who only saw the big picture. You’ve learned the value of detail. “I like the arguments too,” you say. “They’re charming.”

“Not the ones we used to have.” She shrugs. “Or maybe they would be, from an outside perspective. I mean, John yelling so hard he passed out was pretty objectively funny, if you weren’t caught up in the moment.”

You giggle. “I remember seeing that in the clouds. I drew it. He reminded me of my brother throwing a tantrum, although don’t tell him that. He might find the comparison is insulting, and well he should.”

“I won’t tell if I can see the picture.”

“Oh, it’s long gone.” Your brother destroyed a lot of your artwork, and what was left is lost somewhere in the wreckage of your planet or far future Earth. You miss it sometimes – so much work, gone. It’s probably a good thing your fanfiction didn’t survive, though. “Maybe I’ll redo it for our illustrated account of your adventures.”

She grins. “I’ll describe it in detail. You need to get his legs sticking up just right.”

“I’ll make sure we include it in the authoritative summary of our epic.”

“It won’t be worth it otherwise.”

And she’s joking, but she’s right. Detail is where the people are. In their foibles, their silly spats, their embarrassing moments. If you wrote about Jade, you’d include the way her forehead creases when she concentrates, her favorite kind of peanut butter, the way she mispronounced purpose for the first thirteen years of her life. That’s important.

Who knows what stock character Rose would assign you, but in your own mind you have always been the storyteller. That can lead you down dangerous paths when you make the world your journal, but it doesn’t have to. The universe is made of DNA and song. Both boil down to letters. Those are constructs, symbols used to make sense of sequences of acid or sound waves, but everything is. You are all stories telling themselves. And while you might not welcome an editor with a red pen coming to slash through the parts they find unseemly, sometimes a beta reader can help make it even better.

“We’ll work on it together,” you say. “I wouldn’t want to do it all myself.”