#but man that hit. probably the hardest something regarding this topic has ever.

[autism-corner]

Contextless posting =w=b

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Hear It Again | Poe Dameron

Pairing — Poe Dameron x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

Word Count — 5.2k

Request — could I request a Poe Dameron x ps reader? The reader and Poe were raised together, they have always been inseparable. When both join the resistance the reader becomes a spy, whilst Poe becomes a pilot. Reader becomes missing in action. Years later on Jakku Rey/Finn/BB8 find the reader, she helps them escape (she has been stranded on Jakku and has been fixing the Falcon) She gets reunited with Poe, who confesses his love. Maybe she has apart of the map that leads to Luke. Thanks!

Warnings — angst, mentions of loss, war, and violence, Rey and Finn being their cute selves, BB-8 being a baby, reader cuts herself on purpose (not with the intention of self-harming), arguing, fluff, I feel like Poe being Poe should be a warning.

A/N — I enjoyed writing this soooooo much! I fell in love with Poe all over again, harder than ever.

Gif credit

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

A spy stranded on the planet they were supposed to infiltrate had to be the definition of ironic. Or moronic, if they asked you.

You had been sloppy, the plan failed too early on and instead of asking for help, you decided to keep going. Compromising the mission wasn’t worth it, you had been trained to do anything but.

The village had been too dangerous, staying there would mean falling into a trap — no one ever knew where people’s alliance rested, so you opted for staying as far away from it as you could. The junkyard wasn’t ideal, but nothing was in a sandy and hot planet.

As if things couldn’t be trickier, your only way out of there was in a ship that needed a lot of repairs. Not just a ship, The Ship. You were sure Han Solo would be close to a heart attack if he knew his beloved ship was abandoned in a junkyard planet.

The Falcon was famous for many reasons, your favorite was the fact that it had always looked like shit. It was silly, Poe would always say so. He liked it because the ship had made the Kessel run in fourteen parsecs — twelve according to Poe who took the difference very seriously.

Poe was your best friend. The two of you grew up together in Yavin 4 — the years you had spent apart while being trained hadn’t been easy so when you found your way back to him by joining The Resistance, you were more than thrilled.

He had laughed when you were done with your first meeting in General Organa’s presence. ”You know she knows the Millenium Falcon, right?”

You had giggled, shaking your head. When you were kids, you often came up with complicated plans to steal it, according to you it would be easy if you did it while everyone was sleeping. ”The hardest part will be finding it,” he would always say, swatting a hand to gesture for you not to worry.

It was easy for Poe to act in such nonchalance, he had always been graceful at many things. Back when things were easier and your only worry was not being caught sneaking out of your house to explore the depths of the forest with your friends, you believed him to be invincible.

You wished for that to be true, for him to be okay. You trusted in his abilities, you had re-trained him personally in case he was captured —not that he needed it, you just wanted to be sure— but you didn’t know what he was up to now.

Oh, how you wanted to be a child again, being teased by your best friend for your obsession with a ship you would never pilot because you didn’t care for piloting at all.

And you still didn’t, you knew the basics because it was part of your training but you didn’t care about becoming the best pilot of the galaxy. How could you when Poe carried that badge with so much pride?

Or at least you imagined he still did. It had been so long since you last saw him… you wondered how he was handling it, if he was still alive — he had to be.

When you weren’t groaning out of frustration or complaining out loud because of the heat, you wondered many things about him; mostly regarding his safety.

Distant sounds made you jump. “Kriff,” you whined, rubbing the top of your head as you ducked to not hit yourself again.

With your free hand, you withdrew your blaster off your belt. A screech filled your ears which prompted you to stand still. Someone was inside the ship, their approaching steps let you know two pairs of shoes were the source of the noise.

A whirring sound, soothing and somewhat familiar joined the steps. You carefully stepped closer to the cockpit with your blaster held up and ready to pull the trigger.

Something bumped your ankle. Your favorite beep greeted you. The young man and woman gushing about the ship a couple of meters ahead of you turned around.

Recognizing the jacket the guy had on, you gruffly asked, “Where did you get that jacket?”

“W—What?”

The girl stepped in front of him. She was protecting him with no hesitation. “Who are you?” she demanded to know.

“You first.” You nodded upward.

She studied you, lifting a hand when her companion started to speak. He clamped his mouth shut. “I’m Rey.”

“Pamaf,” you gave them the name you had been using throughout your latest mission.

“Where are you from?”

BB-8 beeped, demanding attention. You tensed, torn between acknowledging the droid and getting more answers.

“I’m Finn,” the guy said. “The jacket is mine.”

You stared at him, tenser now. He opened his eyes wide, drawing a thin line with his mouth. Oh, stars, this idiot was pretending to be part of The Resistance.

“Do you trust them, buddy?”

BB-8 happily beeped in an affirmative gesture.

“Where’s Poe?” If you knew something about Poe, and you knew everything about Poe, it was that he only left BB-8 behind when he didn’t have another option — no matter how reckless his last resort was. The droid was part of him, just like the jacket Finn was wearing.

Finn couldn’t help himself and explained, “we crashlanded. He didn’t make it.”

You took a deep breath in, barely nodding. Your only hope now was that it had been quick, that he hadn’t suffered.

“We need to get out of here,” Rey sighed exasperatedly, “you can question us throughout the journey. I suppose.”

“The ship isn’t in optimal conditions,” you croaked.

“None of us will be in optimal conditions if we don’t leave now,” she quipped.

Seeing you frown, Finn added, “They want the droid. And to kill us.”

You wished they would for a fleeting moment. What was life with no loved ones but a painstakingly slow crave for the relief of being lucky to see them again, surrounded by the force where bliss was the only thing that existed?

You merely nodded. Rey hurried to the pilot seat, beaming as she got comfortable. She looked adorable, you would’ve expressed it if you weren’t about to crumble.

Had he missed you like you missed him? You supposed he had. The two of you had been close for so long that it was safe to assume he would care about his friend.

Friend. Did friends laugh the way the two of you did? How could anyone be sure? Lines blurred all the time between childhood friends, and with the life you had in The Resistance it was common to grow closer to its members.

Even then, he probably had replaced you after all that time apart. And now it didn’t matter because he was…

Poe was dead.

You had been trained to endure many torture tactics and fight any creature or thing imaginable to human beings. You had been under a lot of pain, in the brink of death — nothing had hurt like the news Finn gave you, nothing had hurt like knowing you wouldn’t ever hear Poe’s laugh again.

You felt numb. Too many things were going through your head and your heart, so many you couldn’t feel anything at all. You knew the ship was rocking, you could hear Finn’s and Rey’s shouts, but you weren’t processing them.

Loss had never numbed you before. It had angered you, wrecked you, made you a tougher woman — a better spy.

Everything went by in blurs. You weren’t sure if you had imagined it or if someone else had entered the ship. It wasn’t like you cared either.

Even BB-8 was avoiding you now. You preferred it that way, you weren’t ready to be around something Poe had loved so deeply.

You were pushed by Rey into a hiding place. Finn handed you a mask and you robotically put it on, feeling the weight of BB-8 against your calf.

The rafter above you opened. Han Solo greeted you, “Hey, kid. What are you doing here? Who’s the pilot?”

Snatching the mask off, you motioned to Rey. “She is.”

You had met Han and Chewie by mistake in one of their smuggling adventures. Han hadn’t been happy when he found out you were part of The Resistance but you promised you wouldn’t say anything and miraculously, he believed you.

True to your word, you had never mentioned him in front of General Organa. It had been somewhat hard not to tell Poe about it, but a promise was a promise. Now you wished you had told him — you could only imagine how shiny his eyes would get as he giddily asked for more details and about The Falcon.

Finn, Rey, Han, and Chewie were speaking. You knew the topic was important but for the love of the stars, the majority of the words escaped you.

Map. Skywalker. Resistance base.

You glanced down at BB-8. The poor droid made a frail noise. Taking it as a sign that you should stay quiet, you announced you would make sure you had done the reparations correctly.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

Visiting Maz Kanata didn’t excite you. Although Takodana looked the same it had the last time you visited, it felt more dangerous than ever.

You were sure Han, Chewie, and Rey could take care of themselves, but Finn worried you. He was jumpy, looking at everywhere as though he was waiting for someone to attack.

Elbowing him on the side, you handed him your blaster. He stared down at it, frowning. You just shook the weapon, gesturing for him to take it already.

His shakiness didn’t go unnoticed by you, and honestly as worried as you were, you couldn’t blame him.

Stars, you really needed to tell them the truth. Clearing your throat, you took in a deep breath. You should trust them, yes. “I know where to find a part of the map.”

“Where?” Finn asked in a hushed tone.

“What if I said my pocket? Kind of.”

“I would kiss you if I didn’t—“ he stopped himself.

You almost chuckled. “Piece of advice?” He nodded so you continued, “she won’t reciprocate if you continue lying to her.”

His face fell. “That obvious?”

You patted his upper back. “Yeah. Fix it before it’s too late.”

Han interrupted your conversation to hand Finn a weapon. “She’s right. Women always find the truth.”

Finn handed your blaster back, nodding downward in a thankful gesture to both you and Han. You put the weapon back in place.

After a few seconds of pondering, he asked you, “how do I tell her I want no part in this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like war. I’m running away from it.”

“Only mercenaries like war, Finn.” You placed your hand on his shoulder. “Some people don’t like it because of the destruction, others because of politics, and a few because it only takes and takes but never seems to give.”

His kind eyes told you he wanted to ask something. You hoped he wouldn’t because you were sure you would break down sobbing if you had to speak about Poe.

“Why are you still fighting?”

“There’s always something worth fighting for. Freedom, love, family…”

Finn and you shared a look as you entered Maz’s Castle, exchanging a nod to assure the other you had each other’s back.

A mess, that was what the situation you had found yourselves in was. Rey and Finn had each ran away at different times, leaving you and Han to deal with Maz, BB-8, Luke’s lightsaber, and the fact that neither of you had an interest in going back to The Resistance base.

You didn’t feel ready to see your old friends, to find out how many of them had died. You didn’t want to hear their condolences because whoever was still around must’ve known you and Poe were close. Facing Leia would be devastating when she saw Poe as another son, the son who had stayed.

Commotion surrounded you, screams and confused questions overwhelmed you as people ran out of the castle. Han and you followed them, making your way through the sea of people congregated at the front gates. Chewie was there too, with his bowcaster ready.

An incandescent red light shone brightly in the sky, no clouds nearby whatsoever. The ground trembled. Finn’s voice filled your ears, “it was The Republic. The first order, they’ve done it.” He then asked for Rey.

Looking down, you loudly blurted, “Where’s BB-8?”

It was too late. TIE-fighters invaded the planet, destroying everything they could aim at. Han, Chewie, and Finn followed Maz, you stayed outside, helping as many people as you were able to. If you were going to die that day, you would do it fighting like you were taught by the New Republic.

Your companions came out of the ruins, shooting at any stormtrooper that crossed their path. You hid behind a pillar, holding your blaster tightly. Thinking about Rey, how excited she had been to see so much green, you took a deep breath. Poe came to your mind, the fact that he had given Finn his name because he refused to call him by a demeaning code… Finn, his craving for a better life.

Suddenly it felt personal. It stopped being about the cause, it was about the people in and around it — the innocent who didn’t have any other choice. You finally understood, perhaps too late, that you could make a difference because you were on the side that didn’t like war when the other in fact did.

Finn ignited a blue lightsaber, you imagined it was Luke’s, and started fighting too. He was sloppy, but you knew his heart was in the place it should be. Seeing Han and Chewie approach him, you did so too, looking behind you from time to time.

Heavy steps started following you out of nowhere. Shaking them off was impossible, you tried it all with no success — there was only one you, a hungry, tired, dehydrated, and broken-hearted you and dozens of them.

The troopers disarmed you, pointing at the four of you with their own weapons. With your hands on the back of your head, a familiar whooshing brought your hopes up.

Han smirked, sharing a look with you. The troopers around you started dropping to the ground, along with pieces of TIE-fighters that had been hit by X-Wings. You hoped Jess was up there, it would be nice to see her if you made it out alive.

Running behind Chewie, you pried your blaster off the dead hands of the trooper that had taken it from you and followed Han, shooting at any white helmet you spotted.

In the air, the leader piloted like they owned the sky. Finn’s adrenaline was running high and he screamed in excitement.

“That’s one hell of a pilot!”

They were. But they weren’t Poe. Their maneuvers were similar enough for you to cling to the hope that it was him, but Finn had been clear when he said your beloved friend hadn’t made it.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

D’Qar hadn’t changed much, it looked busier but with everything going around the galaxy you hadn’t expected anything different.

BB-8 beeped to gain your attention, rolling excitedly. You followed the droid with Finn close by. He was worried, panting as he ran behind the little droid. You saw a few new faces as you walked through the crowd of pilots.

The droid rolled fast toward an X-Wing and your heart skipped a beat. You stood frozen in place, only able to watch as Poe, yes, Poe, greeted the droid with the same joy he used to greet your mom whenever he saw her.

Finn ran towards him, and Poe ran to Finn. You saw them embrace, their words didn’t register as you could only stare. Warm eyes caught yours, and Finn moved out of the way.

You tried really hard to move forward but your legs weren’t capable of doing it. You felt arms around you, your face collided against a semi-hard surface.

“You’re alive,” he rasped.

His voice was everything you needed to feel like you could breathe again. Hugging him back, tightly, you mumbled a tired yes. Poe’s embrace tightened.

“Finn needs help,” you remembered, “and I, well, he. Both of us… Finn and I need to talk to The General—“

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said calmly. Parting from you, lingering his eyes on your face — the one he thought he would never be able to see again, he took your hand and with his free one motioned for Finn to go with you.

Finn repeated what you had said. “I need your help.”

“We’re getting it, buddy,” Poe assured his new friend.

You were pried off Poe in order to be pulled into a tight hug. When the shock wore off, you hugged Jess back. Recognizing your body language, she reluctantly let go of you, staring at you with dampened eyes. Gripping her shoulder in the assurance that you were okay, you followed the path Poe and Finn had taken.

Finn looked at you, interrupting whatever he was telling the General. Nodding you lifted a hand for him to give you a moment.

Pulling your dagger out, you discarded your dirty plain jacket. Everyone’s eyes were on you. Stars, you hoped that dagger wasn’t too dirty.

Taking a deep breath, you held your forearm at a comfortable angle.

“Wait,” Poe yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Trust me.”

He fell silent. Even after all those years of thinking you were dead, he trusted you blindly. Fear didn’t spare him, he held his breath as he watched.

Hissing at the sting when you pierced your skin, you bit down your bottom lip. Dropping the dagger, you pulled the tiny card out of your arm. Unwrapping it from its plastic protection, you handed it to C3PO.

“Mission accomplished, General,” you breathed out. Three years later, but accomplished nonetheless.

General Organa nodded. “Go and get that cleaned.”

Ripping a piece of your sleeve, you shook your head and tied it around the wound. “I’m fine. Ready for duty.”

Leia opposed, Poe did too. You couldn’t understand where his attitude was coming from, but it didn’t matter — you couldn’t disobey your general.

The medical exam took a long time, you needed to be tested for everything as part of the protocol. The base had turned silent by the time you were told you were free to go back to your quarters and take a shower, everyone must’ve been attacking Starkiller Base under Poe’s command.

“My clothes are still there?” you incredulously asked.

Latia, the nurse, smiled warmly at you. “Of course, those are your personal quarters.”

“They are? After all this time?!”

Your incredulity broke her heart. Nodding, she placed a hand on your back and guided you toward the hallway.

“Has the code changed?”

“Commander Dameron made sure it didn’t.”

Your stomach flipped — Poe had counted on you coming back. The code, indeed, was the same. Your quarters were in the same state you remembered leaving them, too.

Showers were underrated, you decided under the water as you washed the grim off your hair. Sure, sonic showers were more efficient and quicker but nothing would ever beat hot showers after a long day — or excruciating years.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

Poe could only imagine you were frustrated by not being granted permission to go with them. The fact that your part of the map hadn’t completed it was upsetting even to him.

He was informed you were healthy enough to be allowed to stay in your room when he followed the medical team to the infirmary as they carried Finn. Latia said you needed rest to which he agreed, but she also winked at him. He knew what he needed to do.

You hadn’t received any notification of the squadrons being back nor one for the need for evacuation. The knocking on the door startled you — aiming at it with your blaster, you opened it with your other hand.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Lowering the blaster upon finding it was only a very unfazed Poe, you shrugged. “How did you know I wasn’t asleep?”

Poe chuckled, nodding upward instead of answering the question. “Can I come in?”

You placed the blaster on your bedside table, waiting for him to get comfortable. To your surprise, instead of sitting down on the couch, he did so on the edge of the bed.

His eyes were startlingly heavy on you. He looked like he wasn’t even blinking. You rotated your body to examine him. Poe’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush to him.

You hugged him by the neck, trying to hide how shocked you were by the sudden show of affection. His shoulders started to shake. A sob escaped him and you could only tighten your arms around him.

His weeping wetted your top, but none of you cared. Poe was in so much distress and you couldn’t fathom why — he had always performed admirably under pressure.

You whispered his name, “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I lost you.” His comment was muffled by the material of your shirt and his clogged nose, but you understood his words perfectly.

You swallowed loudly. “I thought I had lost you, too. Finn said—“

Lifting his head off your stomach, he exploded at you. “Yes, but you didn’t spend an eternity thinking you would never see me again, that you would have to live the rest of your life incomplete… I did, it fucking sucked.”

“You don’t know what I went through! Or what I felt when I saw someone else wearing your jacket!”

His chiseled face turned red. “You made me watch you cut your flesh open earlier!”

It now sounded like he was just finding things to make you feel bad about. If that was what he wanted, he accomplished it. “It’s healed already, if it worries you that much.”

Poe couldn’t believe your words. Pushing you off him, he stood up. “If I worry that much? Have you not listened to what I’ve been telling you?”

“You’ve been yelling at me for something I didn’t have control of,” you said, hoping he would finally understand your perspective.

“You could be dead right now! I could be planning a funeral if I was lucky enough to…” Poe’s voice shattered. “I can’t lose you,” he rasped.

“And I can’t lose you either, but I can’t stop doing my job because you might worry.”

He nodded, letting more tears fall. It broke your heart seeing him like that, you wanted nothing more than to take every bad feeling out of his system — you needed him to be okay, to be the cocky Poe you had fallen in love with.

Offering him a tissue, you reminded him, “I’ll always try my best to come back home.”

He cleaned his face in silence, with a thought whirling inside his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” You tried to guess.

“I believe you.” Poe gave you his back to discard the tissues. He gripped the edge of your desk, inhaling deeply.

You worriedly gazed at him, at his white knuckles and the heaving of his shoulders due to harsh breath. Approaching him, you placed a hand on his back.

“Breathe, Poe,” you reminded him, rubbing his upper back, “it’s okay.”

“I saw them kill everyone in that village… you could’ve been there.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t,” he affirmed, reminding himself that you hadn’t been in that village, that you were there behind him. You were there, rubbing soothing circles on his back and speaking softly to him.

You were there, actually in the room he had kept intact and immaculate awaiting for your comeback. In the room he had slept more times he was willing to accept because it still smelled like you, like home.

Poe wanted to turn around and face you, to tell you all those things filling his heart to the brim, but he decided to be selfish for a few lingering moments and enjoy the warmth of your hand on his tense back.

His breathing finally evened out, thankfully. You were on the verge of crying again, if it wasn’t because your head was about to explode you would’ve been a sobbing mess in front of him.

“Did you miss me?”

The question caught you off guard. You still answered, “I did. How could I not?”

He shrugged. Poe could think of a few reasons, of a handful of fears — things he had never told you, ashamed and scared you would think any less of him. He had insecurities like any other human being that very early he learned to mask and channel, not always successfully but well enough to not worry you.

It sounded silly, hiding things from someone whom he craved the attention of so they wouldn’t worry, but Poe was sure you would drop anything you could to aid him. He couldn’t allow it, no matter how desperately he wanted — you loved your job, and he feared you wouldn’t focus properly because of him like he sometimes couldn’t focus properly because of you. Ever since you became missing in action, it all took a giant toll on him.

A big part of piloting was from muscle memory, at least for him. The adrenaline helped him to focus, to enjoy the thrill running up his body. Poe never became distracted to the point of not being able to do his job thanks to the training you had reinforced him, he would sometimes catch himself slipping but he didn’t allow it to go that far — the moment the mission was done, though? He dreaded those.

He just said it. Hiding it now —in the current political climate, in the middle of a war that would end in so much loss and suffering whether the two of you made it out alive or not— would be a big mistake and a waste of time. “I’m in love with you.”

“Excuse me?”

He glared at you. “You heard me just fine.”

“Maybe I want to hear it again.”

“Well, just say so.” Before you could snappily say it, he repeated his confession, taking your hands in his. “I’m in love with you.”

Intertwining your fingers with his own, you gave him a tired smile, “I’m in love with you too.”

Poe tugged on your hands to bring you closer, letting them go once you were chest to chest. He wrapped both arms around your hips, resting his head on your shoulder. There was nothing more to it, just a tender embrace.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, the pads of your fingers massaged his scalp as he comfortably sighed. “I really missed you,” you told him, wrapping your free arm around his shoulders. “I thought you would have another best friend by the time I could come back, and then Finn appeared with your jacket and said you hadn’t made it and I just... stars, I could be planning a funeral right now.”

“Now you know what it feels like,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against your neck to then inhale your scent. “I missed your perfume.”

“I’ll buy you one.”

“It’s not the same.” Poe lifted his head, just enough to kiss your cheek. “It smells better on you.”

You turned to the side to be able to look at him. “Yeah?”

He smiled, gazing down at your lips. Humming, he planted his hands on your lower back. “May I?”

You kissed him first, pressing your chapped lips to his just as the question slid past them. Never had you shared a kiss so tender and full of emotion, one that said what words fell short at.

Losing that would mean losing the only real thing you had left — losing Poe, like you had thought you had, would mean losing yourself. And he felt the same.

Fingers still buried and tangled in his curls, you poured all your gratitude and love into the kiss. Poe did the same, not able to hide how giddy he felt and smiling against your mouth.

“Promise me you will be more careful next mission,” he told you between short kisses.

Humming, you dragged your lips to the side to pepper kisses on his stubbled jaw. “Only if you promise the same.”

“I’m always careful.”

He received a glare from you. You hoped he didn’t need a list of the reckless things he had done ever since you two joined The Resistance because not only were you extremely tired, you would rather have him cuddle you.

As if reading your mind, Poe slowly untangled from you. He started undoing the bed, folding the duvet onto itself. “Get in, sweetheart, you need some rest.”

Sitting down on the bed, you stared at him with your head tilted. “Will you cuddle me, Dameron?”

He was offended by the question, of course he would cuddle you. Your eyes followed his movements as he rounded the bed — Poe bent over, pulling a bag from under the base. Unzipping the bag, he took a pair of sweatpants out.

Feeling your stare, he said in nonchalance, “unless you want me to sleep in my underwear?”

You would never oppose to that, but you had a more important question. “Why was that bag under my bed?”

Scratching the back of his head, he smiled sheepishly. Poe told you the truth, though, you were a couple now. He supposed you were, at least. “I sleep better when I can smell your scent.”

With your heart beating faster, you nodded while telling him he could sleep however he wanted. Two minutes later, you were being spooned by your best friend —and boyfriend—, with his warm breath fanning on your neck and fingers trailing your plump belly.

“Can’t sleep yet?”

“It’s been like five minutes, Poe.” Placing your hand on top of his, you started playing with his fingers. “Where do you think we should look for the map next time?”

He couldn’t believe you were still worried about that. It was mostly his fault for not telling you. “We found it, you don’t have to think about that anymore.”

You rolled on the bed to face him, lightly slapping his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

It was his time to glare at you which brought him great satisfaction. Seeing you roll your eyes, he brought you closer. Poe laid on his back, making you rest your head on his sternum.

You changed the subject, then, “are you going to go get Luke Skywalker?”

“Rey’s on her way with Chewbacca.”

“Han let Chewbacca go without him?”

“General Solo is dead,” he sighed, a hint of sadness coating his tone. “Did you just call him Han? Since when do you call General Solo simply Han?”

Oh, boy. You hoped he wouldn’t break up with you for hiding your little adventure with Han Solo and Chewbacca for years.

Poe didn’t, he feigned offense and pouted but you kissed it better. You kissed it all better as he held you, close and tightly like he had fantasized for so long.

[beatsfortheillperth]

Words with Jetson

Our next interview is with a producer and rapper out of a beautiful place known as Tauranga, in New Zealand, This creative is known as Jetson.

He happens to be one of my cat, Rain's personal favourites for sleep time and regardless of the amount of thumping bass Jetson's music creates and picture frames it knocks over, I understand why he sleeps so sweetly.

Probably a lot to do with the fact that bass has rhythm, just like the sweet sweet words Jetson correlates with his word-plays in tracks such as "Milk" and "SENSEI". Not only impressing cats, Jetson has made moves and connections beyond the long white cloud, proving isolation doesn't always silence brilliance. Jetson brings words any generation can hold some sort of relevance to, words that allow one to notice life moves fast and slow and sometimes you just have to chill and become an observer rather than an instigator.

This is something I feel Jetson has accomplished with his rather low-key approach to releases and interviews.

Jetson is a natural, a true prodigy of sound and a sharer of moods, and to me, is a reminder that with a little bit of passion and persistence, great things can happen, whatever your field.

Jetson’s collective and label - Chill Children is evidence of that, as through it , Jetson is able to work and release with producers and beat-makers all over the globe.

emo the optimist, BACKWHEN, fuyu, eets, and junyii are just some of the diverse talents working with Chill Children and everyone on the catalogue are game-changers that make music that’s anointed in chills. 

Creators that push boundaries and portray emotion through sound in the most soothing way, one must check Chill Children.

So with that I hope you enjoy rare words with the nuance wonder, and in his own words.

Sit back, relax, get baked, create, f**k it.

Enjoy and much love.

Hey man thanks for the opportunity to share words. Let's start with a few random quick questions to get things going. Favourite Beverage: Lemon water. Favourite thing to do in your down-time: Make music/skate. Views on Reincarnation: It will be cool if it is true but I guess it doesn't really change anything if it is 🤷‍♂️ Favourite Food: Sushi. Favourite Album of All Time: Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders A song to break it down to: Ethereal & Playboi Carti - Beef A song to chill to: Durand Jones & The Indications - Cruising to the park Do you prefer Sunrise? or Sunset? Why?: Sunset, because I'm never awake for sunrise. A childhood memory in regards to music: I remember saving up to buy Graduation by Kanye West and listening to that shit front to back for weeks straight. Favourite Place to be: Probably on an island.

Thanks for that, so let's start by asking what inspires you to produce and not only produce but continually produce, what to me is an array of tunes fitting so many genres?

Do you have a set of goals in place when you release a track or do you just hit upload and just hope people are feeling your sound?

What I like to listen to is constantly changing so I like to challenge myself to try and make the things that I'm inspired by.

I like to think that you never know what you're gonna get when you listen to my music but I've still got so much to learn and experiment with. I just try have fun with it and not think about it too much.

How long have you been producing music, and what did you find was hardest to get the hang of when it first came to producing beats?

I had no music theory knowledge or anything when I started making beats (I still don't have much) so there was a lot to learn right away.

Probably the hardest thing that I still battle with is knowing what you should release, what you shouldn't etc. It's hard to balance knowing when something is finished and when it still needs work.

Could you give a quick run-through of the process you follow when it comes to making a beat?

I try to change my process as much as I can to keep things fresh and fun for myself. But I really enjoy hearing a sample somewhere like keys, a quote or a rapper I want to remix, then I start working with that piece and see where it goes.

I'll mess around with the beat for a while and sometimes a track comes out. It can take one day, it can take months. Just depends.

Oldies are always goodies in my books and I have to mention your "bumps from 2014" mixtape, it truly is something special.

What inspired those little bumps? What were you doing back then? Also, can you remember the mood you were in when you made them?

I'm glad you like it haha. That was when I really had no clue what I was doing in terms of making beats, I was making all of those 'off the grid' in Ableton so I was placing drums in random places, I had no idea what bpm the samples were or anything. I really didn't know wtf I was doing, just going off of a vibe. 

My mood was really just being excited about making music, I was living in the basement at my mum's house blasting beats on the speakers all day.

[bumps from 2014] - https://soundcloud.com/sleepgodd/bumps-from-2014

You are also a rapper. My favourite NZ rapper to be more precise so thank you for the vibes you create. How did you find out you had it in you to rap and how old were you?

Damn, I appreciate that ✌️ I started rapping with a friend of mine, Jesse aka j cafe when we were around 20. We'd sit in my room smoking weed, and free-styling over beats on Soundcloud all night. 

Then we decided to make a track, so we found a beat and jumped in the closet to record some vocals on the laptop microphone.

We put it up on Soundcloud and I've been addicted to making music ever since.

Link to j cafe’s Soundcloud here - https://soundcloud.com/j-cafe

Cover art for Jetson’s 2019 rap release - bluntscraps

Album cover art by Takuroh Toyama

When did you first start rapping in front of others? What did it feel like in the beginning compared to now when you perform live?

I was insanely nervous the first time I ever did anything live and that feeling really hasn't left me lol.

Except now I know how to deal with nerves a bit better and actually enjoy the whole experience of doing something live.

I definitely think I'm a lot better now than my first time doing it, but I still kinda suck 😂 Staying on topic with your rapping, material-wise you have mad skills, your music is forever helping me chill out so thank you.

When did you start writing down your words and turning them into structured songs? Do you have any other artists that inspire your writing style?

When I was younger I really liked the flow of rappers rather than what they were actually saying.

Dudes like MF Doom and Earl Sweatshirt really influenced me at the start wanting to come up with lines that were catchy and different.

To form an actual track I usually just mumble over beats to get the flow, then I start placing words in the spots where I think they fit.

Does your family know you make music? If so what do they think of it, any dance parties in the Jetson Family Household? 

My immediate family all know and support my music. My mum used to have one of my tracks as her ringtone for years lol.

No jetson dance parties yet, but seems like every year more people in my extended family know about my music.

You were also a member of NZ Duo, Chill Children of which you rap and produce with yet another kiwi talent, both having low-key approaches when it comes to presenting yourselves through social media. What happened with that?

Me and J Cafe started Chill Children as a rap project in the early days but we moved to different places in the world and started doing our own solo projects so things sort of stopped happening with it.

I still credit those times with really getting me started on music though. He's still making dope shit and we'll probably link up on a track soon.

So then it became a sort of collective community, and through your Chill Children Soundcloud, you allow a platform for other artists to have their music heard.

Much Love on the concept, What inspired you to start sharing other artists music and what keeps you sharing? I'm very grateful btw, too many gems.

I work on music a lot with my friend emo the optimist (aka kodama) and we always wanted to run a label/collective kind of thing so we could release music from artists that we really liked.

After me and Jesse started doing our own thing, Chill Children seemed like the perfect place to start doing that.

It's one of my favorite things to work on as we have a hand in working with the artists on every release. I just love that we're able to share so much music that we really like with the world.

Check Chill Children here -

Bandcamp - https://chillchildren.bandcamp.com/

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/chillchildren

Instagram - @chillchildren

Any new Chill Children material we should keep an eye out for?

We always have new music from new artists dropping so definitely follow our instagram/twitter if you want to stay updated on it.

We're currently working on a phonk compilation with guys like DJ Yung Vamp, Genshin etc. It's gonna be crazy 🤯

Back to your solo releases through your alias Jetson. What made you want to start putting out your material alone? Also, do you have a favourite Jetson release?

I really felt like I had to release music solo to see what I could do.

I've learned so much about myself through that process, became more confident and a better musician.

Probably my favorite rap track I've made is called 'Escape'.

Not many people have heard it but it's on Spotify and other places.

My favorite beat I've made is probably 'dylan rieder'.

Have to ask, are you working on any new releases we should keep an ear out for? If so, what can we expect with your coming releases?

I just released an album on Bandcamp called THROWED TAPES which was really influenced by DJ screw and other phonk producers.

I'm working on a lofi R&B tape for Bandcamp, a lofi beat tape, and I really want to release a rap EP.

Who knows when those will come out though haha

Taking it back a little to your rapping again I have to mention "Milk". What inspires the words in this track?

Also please share the story behind your track "Melancholy"? The words are somewhat mesmerizing, thank you!

With milk, I just heard the beat from bsd.u and really wanted to make something weird that just followed the flow of the beat.

On melancholy I tried to think about what I was saying a little more. The instrumental is so introspective and smooth I knew I had to come correct on it.

THROWED TAPES By Jetson, released August, 27, 2020

Musical Recommendations?

junyii - emo the optimist - knxwledge - j cafe - jesse james solomon - the smiths - dj yung vamp - shuggie otis - hm surf - alicks - MIKE - baccyard - meraki soul - steve hiett I could go on for days though lol

Creatives to keep an eye out for in music and art? Takuroh Toyama (photography) Moebius (visual art) Steve Hiett (photography/music) Any Last Words?

It really trips me out that people enjoy something I love to do so much.

So just thank you for vibing with me, I have a lot more to share ✌️

Support Jetson here -

Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/highimjetson

Bandcamp - https://jetsonbumps.bandcamp.com/

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/artist/2bkf2PmiVyfCqg2uzIFIqJ

Twitter - https://twitter.com/jetsonbumps

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/jetsonn/?hl=en

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Milk by Jetson (Production by bsd.u)

[foxofthedesert]

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch 8

Chapter 8 – A Bitter Draught

An uneventful month meanders by after the destruction of the garrison at the border. In the interim, Regina has spent her nights much the same way. Tonight no exception is made to the routine that has played an integral role in maintaining an even keel through the undulating seas portentous of a tempest about to blow in from the southeast.

The entire morning was spent embroiled in mostly monotonous meetings, one after another spanning a broad assortment of topics ranging from lumber industrialists bitching about deforestation protocols to a presentation chock full of charts, graphs, and illustrations given by an appallingly boring magistrate from the southerly regions regarding the 'dire threat' posed to her local waterways by wildlife run amok. Apparently overzealous beavers and moles alongside unusual upsurges in foxes, deer, and other agricultural and animal husbandry endangering critters pose as severe a threat as a witch hellbent on the kingdom's destruction – an elucidation for which Regina was ever-so-thankful. The highlight of the morning, and the entire day really, was a girl's chorus from the vicinity of Perrault who visited just before midday to finalize booking them for a gala to be thrown in Red's honor. Regina was so besotted with their cherubic enthusiasm for celebrating the upcoming birthday of the Queen they all adored that she allowed them to lunch with her.

Unfortunately, the proceeding afternoon and evening hours sapped all of the positive energy of that delightful hour. Drafting budget proposals for the council to review was not her idea of fun, nor was reviewing the repairs to the western wall nearing completion after a series of delays. All the same, those things had to be done lest the nobles had cause to question her commitment to the kingdom's financial health and the citadel's security. So after seeing the girl's chorus off, she sequestered in her office, hunkered down and scribbled figures until the wrist and fingers of her right hand ached. Several hours later, she emerged only to spend the next two meticulously inspecting stonework and newly dug rainwater management culverts in the midst of an autumn chill rolling through the area.

By the time Regina trudges up the corridor to her bedchambers, she is weary to the marrow of her bones. Pausing at the door, she fondly recalls how Red had returned from a similar visit to the western wall the month before. Coated in sweat and mud, Red had stank something awful but was nonetheless the picture of simple satisfaction at having broken Queenly protocol to help the workers haul rocks, mix mortar, dig trenches, and pour concrete to fill said ditches so that the new section of the wall had stable foundations. Regina's nose turns up at the memory of the smell wafting from her filthy wife, but then she melts at Red's happy smile at having exhausted herself in hard, honest work that paid objective dividends she has personally witnessed. The wall is now twice as strong as it was before repairs were undertaken. Several times during her review, she was approached by workers and offered thanks for Red's unnecessary but greatly appreciated aid.

I'm just glad it was her that pitched in with the grunt work and not me, Regina thinks, smirking down at her pristine clothing. If Red wants to break her back getting down in the mud with what she insists will always be her sort of folk, she can have at it. As for me, I'll be staying clean and dry. Like mother said, 'That is what servants are for, Regina, and we pay them well enough for their labor. Your job is to ensure that labor is not done in vain.' She wasn't right about a lot, but that's one point I'll agree with her on.

There is a part of Regina that cringes at how snobbish that sounds. Fortunately for her, it is not big enough to make any notable impact upon her conscience. The last time she let the stark disparity between the haves and have-nots bother her, she was a young and criminally naive fool who believed in concepts that will never harmonize with reality – such as the idiotic assumptions that love will always triumph over hate and good over evil. Daniel's death was a slap to the face curing her of those delusions, one that she has yet to recover from and probably never will when five years of marriage to a hopeless romantic has only made a tiny dent in her condescending streak. Besides, if Red can put up with her occasionally sneering down her nose at the common man, why should she be bothered to change any more than she already has? And it isn't as if she is the same callous tyrant who constantly abused the impoverished lower classes during the Dark Days.

Since she fell in love with Red and that hopeless idealism her mother tried to destroy flickered back to life into a quaint but undeniably extant ember, the plight of the rank and file has conclusively improved. There is still destitution, yes, as there always will be in a world as cruel as theirs. But there has been steady upward progress. Salaries of workers all over the citadel, and indeed all over the country, have reached record highs under her audacious agenda to redistribute some of the gross wealth being hoarded by the nobility. The program has not boosted her popularity among the effected noble houses, although even the hardest hit among those most wealthy individuals cannot argue with the wholesale economic benefits produced by a proletariat that is increasingly awash with disposable income. Merchants are especially reaping the harvest of this marked upturn in consumerism, and their nearly universal support of her measures has offset any intransigent defiance from the excessively privileged aristocracy.

So no, Regina does not feel bad for still being a bit of an arrogant, pompous, egotistical asshole. And why should she when Red admittedly finds that side of her...oddly arousing? The answer to that question is self-evident.

As Regina loiters outside in the hallway, the manifesting temptation to provoke Red's attraction to her nasty side is quite potent. Yet as enjoyable as the lengthy, highly energetic romps with her wife invariably are, she is not really in the mood tonight. Unusual as that is, all she wants is to settle in for a relaxing evening in the company of her favorite person in the universe. Red's consistently reliable warmth and devotion is more than enough to take her mind off of the sinister looking storm clouds always a nagging pace ahead of her stride. Storm clouds that thunder the ominous promises of the witch that murdered Robin in front of the whole court and wiped the garrison at Tamerlon off the map.

Prior to entering the chambers, she preemptively sets a number of wards over their door to match those she applies to her wife's person each morning since that terrible day they watched helplessly as one of their dearest friends died. She cannot be too careful since the witch threatening her life also made that lewd comment about Red. Expressing an intent to kill her is one thing, but implying untoward intentions toward her wife is another altogether. So Regina ignores Red's limited amount of snarky griping about her paranoia as she carefully applies the wards, and does not feel a bit bad about doing so. There is no length to which she is unwilling to go to prevent such an indignity being visited upon the only person she has ever known who deserves to live a free, peaceful, and happy life.

Thus far there have been no assassination attempts, much to Regina's equal relief and consternation, which is why she has not immediately recalled Mulan from her task shoring up the southern border with Drakkenhall. It also comes as no great shock since there have been no further sightings of the witch, though she wishes that were not the case. Were there actionable intelligence, she could be out there doing something about the threat. As is, her frustration only grows with each passing day and it feels more and more like the introductory theatrics at the garrison and with Robin were a pot of water hung over a lit fire. Now whatever malefic brew is being prepared has been left to simmer, and once heated to a rolling boil, the concoction will be poured out, no doubt inciting mayhem within the kingdom. To Regina, the waiting is far less preferable to the attack sure to unfold any day now. At least in open conflict she can retaliate. Right now all she's done is sit on her ass, hands tied behind her back, powerless to strike out at an enemy who has yet to reveal herself save through veiled taunts. Psychological warfare is being conducted, and having it waged upon a person of action such as herself is beyond aggravating.

The only comfort through the interminable period of peace before the storm is her nightly ritual with Red. Relaxing together before bed, sipping the finest vintage, and talking about their days helps to unwind the massive knot of frustration that is her entire body and mind of late. Somehow, Red is able to stay calm whereas Regina's self-control is fraying at the edges, and when they are together that inner serenity soothes her irritated nerves as if seeping in via emotional osmosis. After the destruction of the garrison and Robin's death, she's been constantly itching for a fight that refuses to present itself. Red, though, is eerily composed, able to go about her daily business without thoughts of their close friend's abrupt demise hindering or entirely paralyzing her. Whether she's just being brave for Regina's sake or has simply stowed away her grief until the current crisis is over remains uncertain. Regina is too selfish to ask which is the case. Right now she needs her wife's unshakable devotion, quiet strength, easy-going companionship, tender reassurance, and dependable affection – perhaps more so than she ever has.

"Hey, hon! You look beat," Red greets upon Regina's entry.

"I am," Regina says. "It was a long day."

Approaching from where she was perched at their vanity, reading the latest in a long line of epic romances gifted to her by Belle, Red offers Regina a compassionate smile. "I heard. Lots of meetings, huh? And drafting the yearly budget proposal on top of that. I don't envy you."

Regina hums her acknowledgement. Red had spend her day in the town that sprung up beneath the looming shadow of the castle almost immediately after construction was completed some two centuries ago. Referred to now as Eisentor as much due to the easily defensible layout teeming with choke points around the base of the mountain as to the massive steel-reinforced gates, manned around the clock, that bar entrance to the sinuous access road carving a path up to the precipice upon which the Dark Palace sits. In Eisentor, Red is a regarded as somewhat of a fixture, as she can be found there as oft as permitted by the many duties incumbent upon a sovereign.

Today Red paid a visit to the bakery Regina once spied upon and learned of the shifting opinion of her people regarding her rule. Red does not say anything to indicate where she went, nor does she need to; Regina can see the burn marks on her fingers and forearms from greedily plucking hot pastries out of the oven because she was too impatient to wait for them to be safely removed. Ennis and Hanna, the baker and his wife, permit Red to have her run of the place. The indulgence isn't surprising since Red is their Queen, although Regina does not think that factors into their overly kind allowance. Red has a way with people that disarms them almost instantly then has them reduced to so much putty in her palm within a few more minutes. The proprietors of the bakery, all four of them, did not last even that long before they were not only letting Red have her pick of the fresh-out-of-the-oven goodies but were letting her design – and hand-make! – her own confections. The first time that happened Red came back home with flour on her face and dough on her dress, which was a costly garment to have produced. Fortunately for her, the gingersnaps dipped in white chocolate she had baked were delicious. Had Regina known Red had a talent for baking she might not have resisted bedding her quite so long as she did.

In any case, Red's day was far less strenuous than Regina's, thus the reason for her being extra sympathetic. Which she most certainly ought to be as she probably had Ennis and Hanna's absurdly attractive children pawing all over her while she was flitting about their establishment like a butterfly perfectly at home in an environment that decorum would expect her to avoid appearing too comfortable in.

"As well you shouldn't. How are Rina and Alfred, by the way?" Regina asks, unable to keep the venom out of her question. She is still uncomfortable with how much time those two funny and kind, extremely gorgeous, and very single siblings spend around Red.

"Doing good," Red says, smile shifting with longsuffering affection for Regina's irrepressible jealous streak where those two are concerned. "You don't have to keep saying their names like a dirty word, by the way. They're just friends who know I don't have eyes for anybody but you."

"Maybe so, but I'd still feel better if they both got married already," Regina grouses, mood souring further when Red chuckles at her discomfort. "Yuck it up, buttercup. Mock my concerns. But answer me this, what are two highly attractive and eligible individuals like them doing unmarried in their mid-twenties? Huh?"

"Waiting for the right person just like I did," Red calmly answers, ever the diplomat. "The see what I have and want it for themselves. And you know what? I don't blame them one tiny iota. Everyone should be as lucky as me to have found somebody like you."

Eyes dancing, Red sidles over to Regina and pulls her into an embrace without permission. To Regina's frustration, she allows the uninvited move, even appreciates the motive behind it and the comfort it gives her. Ten years ago, she would have incinerated anyone who dared such boldness. Instead she melts into the embrace and accepts the kiss pressed gently to her lips.

You've turned into a pathetic sap, Regina. But who can blame me? These arms are the safest, most loving place in the world. And those kisses are worth all the gold in the kingdom. I may be a sap but at least I'm a happy one.

A chuckle reverberates through Red's chest as Regina loops her arms behind Red, hands joined at the small of her back. "You've been jealous of Rin and Alfie for years for absolutely no good reason. How many times do I have to remind you that neither of them are interested that way in girls?"

Regina pulls away, brows arched. "I thought the same once. Before Leopold's death, I held to my mother's puritanical view of same sex attraction. And then I..." she trails off before mentioning her introduction to Maleficent, not wanting to put Red in a bad mood as well.

Red does not care very much for Mal. Never has really since their introduction almost seven years ago. She insists it is because of the ancient hatred her kind harbors for the race of dragons. One of few historical contributions Anita made to her daughter's thirst for knowledge about her roots was an oral tradition passed down for untold generations which holds that the dragons created werewolves and then enslaved them as a labor force they then exploited mercilessly to erect their great castles and earthworks, some of which exist to this day. That enmity is apparently ingrained into werewolves, which might explain why Red is on constant alert whenever Mal is around for the week or so she visits two or three times per year while her daughter Lillian is with her father. It might, that is, if were not for the scathing glances Red often cast at Maleficent, whether Mal was paying attention or not, only occurring when Regina was present. Among other trustworthy sources, Iris has informed Regina that Red acts perfectly normal when alone with Mal, and that they even seem to get along rather well without Regina between them as she oft is to the keep the peace. Obviously, Red's loathing for Mal is just her own jealous, possessive streak rearing her ugly head – and it is a her, as there is no question the source is the wolf, who thought of Regina as her mate long before her human half did.

So, while it is true Mal was her first foray into the boundless pleasures of a woman's intimate touch, naturally she avoids speaking such a truth aloud to prevent any consequential effusion of blood. A fight between a dragon and the most enormous werewolf on record would not only result in one of the participants being seriously harmed, but there is no telling what damage those two would cause around the citadel tussling in their bestial forms. And as much as Regina enjoys Red acting irrationally possessive and territorial, she does not want her pleasure to come at the expense of innocent bystanders. Or worse, at Red's. Strong as Red is in her fur, could she really take on a dragon as big as a small castle and escape the encounter unscathed? Regina doesn't think so, and thus keeps her trap shut.

Plus, if Mal hurt Red...? Well, then Regina would have to hurt Mal, and she really does not want to do that. She has precious few friends as is that accept her for who she is and not who they want her to be. Mal is one of those, and the oldest at that. It would be unspeakably tragic if Regina lost their deeply embedded camaraderie because she was no better than Snow White at keeping a secret, even if it was her own and not that of another.

"Well," she amends after clearing her throat, "then I learned differently. Such revelations can sneak up on you, as you well know."

Red nods, nibbling her lip bashfully. Unlike Regina, Red had no prior sexual experience with another woman when they became lovers. Her innocence in the matter was as precious as it was exciting. And not only in that aspect, but Red was a virgin as well, having never been brave enough to breach that momentous threshold with Peter before his horrific demise at Red's unwitting...paws. Those crucial details made their first time a priceless gift twice over, so lovingly and trustfully offered by Red and accepted by Regina with all due reverence. Regina will never forget a single detail of that night. Every delightful moan Red let loose, every delicious shudder of the taut muscles in her flawless body, the keening encouragements as Regina's lips, tongue, or fingers discovered all the right spots she never imagined could make her feel so good, and even the whimpers of pain as her maidenhood was delicately torn – all are recorded for posterity within the vault of Regina's memory. Honestly, if she hadn't already known, simply being allowed to observe Red's first time while caught in the throes of some euphoria induced out-of-body experience would have convinced her she was indeed a bisexual woman with a clear preference for the fairer sex.

Getting to be Red's first in two distinct facets almost made her regret giving away both of hers, one to Daniel – a secret Leopold kept for her, one of his few commendable kindnesses to her during their marriage – and the other to Maleficent. Almost. But then she remembers Maleficent breaking her in, how the older dragon had made sure she felt immense waves of almost unbearable pleasure before being allowed to attempt reciprocation, and then how she was expertly guided in the particulars of bringing a woman to orgasm. Under Mal's diligent tutelage, Regina became an expert in her own right and was thus able to impart her wisdom to Red, who proved as eager a student as she once was.

The point, however, is that their fateful encounter on the mountain pass when Regina was hunting down Snow was the first time Red ever experienced attraction to a woman. The intensity of their connection, as she confessed to Regina during their initial and somewhat awkward dinner, had taken her completely by surprise. The fact of the matter is that when confronted by the right circumstance or person, attractions can spring up previously thought absurd if not downright impossible. And if it happened to Red, it could also happen to the baker's offspring. Even Alfred and Rina's preferences are as stated, they would not be unique in questioning them for Red's sake. More than one noble lady with a husband has let slip that they would be receptive to overtures from Misthaven's junior Queen. Hell, Regina herself has been propositioned by seemingly heterosexual women. As unlikely as such as turnabout is, it is not outside of the realm of possibility.

And so even if Regina knows she is being silly, knows that Red is being sincere when insisting she is a one woman gal, that she couldn't be happier in their marriage, and that there is no one else who could ever stir her heart or her passions the way she can, Regina cannot help but feel these irrational surges of jealousy. They aren't Red's fault by any means. No matter how much she has matured emotionally since meeting Red, she is still an inherently possessive woman who finds the concept of others wanting what is hers utterly infuriating.

And Red is mine, dammit. Mine!

"True," Red says, rubbing reassurance into Regina's back between the shoulder blades, like she can sensing Regina's troublesome thoughts. Which is not unusual. Damn werewolf senses. "And maybe they are attracted to me," Red goes on. "Just a teeny tiny bit. If so, they aren't the only ones, and that's not me being boastful. I've had to deal with roving hands and leering eyes since I first grew breasts and developed a figure that didn't more resemble a twig than a girl. That's partly why I made Gran teach me how to shoot a bow and Peter to swing a sword. But that also means I have a lot of experience ignoring that kind of unwanted or unrequited attention. At least the eyes, that is. Hands get slapped."

"Or cut off," Regina growls, remembering one time when a drunk stumbling through town groped Red's chest. On instinct, Regina drew her sword and relieved the man of the offending appendage. Red was not pleased.

"Let's not go there," Red says, nose wrinkling as if remembering the same thing. She then shakes her head, clearly finding the direction their discussion was heading odious. "In fact, let's just drop this topic altogether and meander over into safe waters."

Regina nods curtly. She had not liked the subject any better than Red. "Agreed." Silence then descends in the absence of a topic, not pleasant although not exactly unpleasant either.

"Have you heard anything else from Mulan?" Red asks a moment later.

Knowing this avenue of discussion is in many ways more stressful than the one they'd just been on, Regina indicates towards the plush sofa pushed against the far wall right next the bay window. "Let's sit first." Red's agreement comes by silently allowing Regina to grab her hand and pull her over to the sofa. Only once they are both seated, hips touching, Red leaning into Regina's shoulder, does Regina finally give a proper answer. "Yes, I have heard from Mulan," she says, as Red listens intently, Regina's tightly clutched hand sandwiched between her own in her lap, legs crossed, body angled inward toward Regina. "I received a letter yesterday. There have been no further attacks in Drakkenhall since the two last month. She seems to believe this lull in activity is indicative of an imminent strike. Called it the calm before the storm."

"And you agree with that assessment?" Red asks, looking every bit as worried for Regina's safety as she had the night after they buried Robin.

"I trust Mulan, so yes," Regina says, her tone betraying her own concern. "Also, I have heard reports from my spies of troubling rumors spreading through the lowlands between Snow's realm, Stefan's, and ours. Rumors of armed men being spotted in the dense forests, never long enough to identify numbers before disappearing into the shadows like ghosts. All attempts to scout out these interlopers have come back empty-handed. I'd ordinarily regard them as poppycock, but the locals have long claimed there are secret tunnels criss-crossing the region, remains of ancient works built during the Great Ogre Wars an age ago. Perhaps there is some truth to these rumors and some clandestine force is gathering right under our noses. Or this information can be dismissed as of no consequence because they are ludicrous. Frankly I'm not sure which is the case, though I am inclined to side with the latter over the former."

"Is there not anything we can do to find out for sure? Maybe send some troops to check it out?" Red asks, voice hitching with trepidation that has nothing to do with fear for her own safety or having to don the armor of war. Red is a fearless fighter, has proved so on many occasions. But the thought of sending her people out to battle, to fight and die on her behalf against an enemy whose strength is unknown, is to her an intolerable one. And, more than anything else, she is ever-aware of the witch's threat on Regina's life.

"Not with our forces already stretched thin since the corps stationed nearby was redeployed to Mulan's command on the border." That decision had come a week after Mulan's letter announcing two more villages on Stefan's side had been obliterated by their elusive magic-wielding enemy. It hadn't been an easy one to make, as those troops had standing orders to keep a close eye on Snow and Charming's realm. And if there was any chance those two self-righteous morons might be up to something nefarious, the time to instigate those plans was right now when Regina's eyes were elsewhere. "Best to address the foe we know for a fact is operating in Drakkenhall than to waste resources on what may or may not be a real threat. If you'll recall, we made that decision together," she points out, and not unkindly.

Regina is spared Red's response by a knock on the door that she answers by straightening in her seat before bellowing an affirmative command to enter. Iris strides in seconds later, a little behind schedule, looking slightly harried. In her hand is a silver tray holding two large bell-shaped wine glasses that each contain a generous portion of the castle's finest vintage.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Your Majesties," Iris says, sounding as atypically out of sorts as she looks. "I bumped into someone in the hallway, a redheaded woman I'd never seen before, and nearly lost the tray and it's contents." Her fair face darkens almost imperceptibly. "I stopped a while to question her. Turns out she's new, just got hired onto the custodial staff. Anyway, that's no excuse. I bet your pardon once more, my Queens."

"It's alright, Iris. No harm, no foul," Red says, demeanor warm and accommodating for the maid she would insist is not just that, but her friend.

Both Regina and Red accept their wine with smiles and thanks, though Regina's response is slightly strained by Iris' explanation as to her tardiness. She knows of no new hires amongst the staff, but that is not unusual since Red encourages her to trust more in those to whom she has delegated responsibility instead of micromanaging everything as she is apt to do. Iris, to her credit, says nothing about Regina's reaction except to inquire whether she can be of any further service other than the delivery of their nightly wine.

"No, thank you, Iris," Regina says, still sitting primly while in company other than family or friends as Red nervously worries the surface of her glass. As fond as Regina is of Iris, she cannot seem to lose the distinction between servant and friend ingrained into her from a child by Cora. "You may go." When Iris gives a curt curtsy then immediately begins to leave, Regina feels Red's eyes cut into the side of her head. She sighs. "Wait." And when Iris halts to turn back, adds, "Take the rest of the evening off and don't bother coming in until the afternoon tomorrow. I'd like a lazy morning for once. Both of us could use one, I think."

"Definitely," Red says, looking much more pleased than she did a moment ago. "Have a wonderful evening, Iris. And give John our love, won't you?"

"I will, my Queen," Iris says with effusive gratitude that makes Regina feel a bit better than it probably should. "Thank you both." Whereas Regina nods politely, Red offers Iris one of her big, toothy smiles that could light up the whole castle if she stood in the right place.

With Iris gone, Regina sinks into the cushions of the sofa and blows out a breath. "I'm sorry about before. If I sounded upset or harsh, that wasn't my intent."

Red softly squeezes Regina's hand that she has still yet to surrender. "I know. And I wasn't going to argue. I agreed with your suggestion just like you said and nothing since has changed that. I'm just concerned is all. A witch burning villages in Drakkenhall, rumors of strange men lurking in the lowland forests. I don't like the feel of this one bit."

"Me either," Regina agrees, then takes a sip of her wine. The full texture and smooth flavor go down easy, warming her from the inside out. "Believe me, I wish that underhanded she-devil would just come out swinging already. I'm sick of the games. The waiting is intolerable."

"I know what you mean. There's a tension in the air all the time now. I hate it. It's like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only when it does, I can't help but feel I'll wish it hadn't."

"As much as I agree, we can't afford to think that way. Negativity breeds defeat, and I'm not about to let this uppity sorceress, whoever she may be, beat me on my own turf. When it comes to fighting fire with fire, I don't lose, darling. You know that."

"Ah, my heroic Midnight Queen!" Red sings, using the title she'd given to Regina long ago. "There is no foe in heaven above or Hades below with whom she will not stand toe-to-toe and prevail."

"Damn straight. And don't go forgetting that any time soon." Smirking, Regina tips her glass to Red, who clinks hers against it with an airy laugh.

"As if I could," Red says after they both take a luxurious drag of their wine. "You're not exactly timid or humble about your martial prowess. Never seen anyone best you with sword or spell, and we have a lot of good fighters and magicians in our arsenal."

Head swirling pleasantly from the alcohol, though it has hit her a little harder and faster than usual tonight, Regina grins darkly. "I just look forward to defending my undisputed title in both against the bitch who killed our friend."

"Hear, hear," Red says, then raises her glass. "To justice for Robin."

Approving of the gesture, Regina raises her glass as well, smile fading into an expression of iron resolve. "To justice for Robin. May it come swiftly and violently. And preferably at the business end of my sword or your furrier half's maw."

"I'll drink to that," Red says, and then they take another gulp of the delicious vintage Iris delivered.

The rest of the evening passes with amiable conversation and a few easy silences that see them leaning against each other while basking in their mutual adoration. They also sneak in more than a few kisses, most of them chaste, though a few get heated, one so much so that Red winds up in Regina's lap before they come to their senses. All too soon, however, the wine collides with Regina as if a sledgehammer descending upon a brittle clay pot, obliterating her senses. Vision blurring, hearing obfuscated, heart suddenly pounding in her ears, she rises unsteadily and nearly collapses straight into the floor.

"Wow," Red says, helping her to stay upright. "That wine sure hit you hard. Weird. Didn't do anything for me." Regina thinks, but is not sure, Red pulls a suspicious face. "Musta just been 'cause you're tired. Let's get you to bed so you can sleep it off."

Regina does not remember much else that comes next except for being wrangled onto the bed, her clothes stripped down to the underwear, and Red's wryly chuckled comment as she is tucked in, "Good thing you gave Iris the morning off. You'll be sleepin' late for sure." Then sheets are pulled up and tucked around her shoulders and all at once, before she can even manage to part her lips to speak, the lights go out.

Once the irresistible darkness claims Regina, she remembers no more.

[its8simplejulesblog]

Most People Spend Their Time Snapchatting At 2 am

Me? I watch Ted Talks. Obviously, each night is different, but tonight, I must’ve gotten sucked into some kind of black hole. As we all know, I am very much interested in neuroscience and how that translates into sociology and psychology and the way that people interact with each other. Earlier tonight I was thinking back on a conversation my mom and I had about attraction. Why are you attracted to who you’re attracted to. I don’t know if you all know this already, but clinically defined attraction is determined by the symmetries of your face. Therefore, the more symmetrical your features are on both sides of your face the more conventionally attractive you are. When you think about it though, if someone had a perfectly symmetrical face, that would be terrifying, so it’s nice that we all have some little imperfections. And, there has always been a myth that you’re attracted to people that *generally, there are absolutely exceptions* are of similar, relative attractiveness to yourself. So, I wanted to follow up with more information on that topic and since it had seemed like all my friends had disappeared, I had nothing better to do. What this ended up turning into, however, was multiple hours of me watching Ted Talks about dating and self love and happiness and giving no fucks (this was actually the title of one of them) and soulmates, but the ~science of these topics, more so than the typical “how to get a boy to like you” bullshit we’re used to seeing. Here’s what I learned 

I almost didn’t write this particular post because it might get very personal and that scares me a lot. I really think there are a solid 5 people that read this though, so maybe just getting it out there is more of a strength for me than anything else. Anyway, when I think about telling people “yeah, I’m just sitting here watching Ted Talks about how to seduce people,” that is REALLY creepy haha. And yet, it was SO fascinating and if you watch it you’ll see why (I decided I’m going to link the ones I mention specifically at the bottom). First of all, this man’s VOICE is so funny. The way he talks is so British and so mechanical it’s hilarious. He talked about a social experiment where a bunch of college students went on dates. Those who asked the person out were confederates or associates of the study, while the people that got asked were the subjects (they were informed after that it was a study..cause you know, ethics). During the date, the confederates had to perform one of three tasks: agree with everything your date says, agree with nothing your date says, or disagree for the first half of the date and then agree for the second half. Interestingly, they found that the last group, rather than the first group of subjects found their dates to be the most attractive. Why? Because they felt like their date didn’t like them at first, but as they got to know each other, the date “warmed up to them.” Dr. Persaud said this is because people like to feel like they have an impact on you..and scientifically THAT is what seduction is all about. Obviously, that’s a little bit different than what people typically think about. You would think about romantic seduction, but think about it: if you’re infatuated with someone and you hook up it’s like cool..that was fun (maybe), but your mind will find a way for you to focus on something else. Conversely, what if you have, a concept, some substance (not in a dirty way, freaks). Imagine a world where you are attracted to someone and you take slightly more time to get to know them. I don’t mean five years or 5 hours or even a hour, it could just be a few minutes of humanizing them. He uses Casanova as an example because he’s in love with this actress that has a lisp so he writes her a play and...ya know..just watch it yourself. The point of this IS, is that seduction takes attention, interest, and maintenance. You have to recognize that people are individuals that really just want to be noticed and paid attention to and you’re instantly more attractive it’s not that hard. 

I then ended up clicking on three of the most influential videos I think I have ever watched. 

The first was a video on self-love. The presenter basically discusses the importance of marrying yourself before you devote yourself to anyone else in any regard. Anyone that knows me knows that I talk about this all the time lately. It’s something that you’ll hear over and over again until the meaning becomes a little bit meaningless. Everyone knows that self love is important, but no one really thinks about what this means. Your ability to take care of yourself, and meet yourself where you are in life is absolutely essential to the way that you will be able to provide for others. If I spend every waking moment thinking about every single person that took from me I would be too burnt out to give anyone the love that I so desperately want to give. Devote your energy where it’s needed, on yourself. It’s not selfish, it’s powerful and necessary. I promise, I PROMISE though, symbiosis only occurs when both people have something to give. If you are always giving giving giving and getting nothing, cycle back and focus on yourself first. It sounds repetitive, but once you do that, then your world will prioritize your comfort and once you are comfortable you will be in the right state of mind to surround yourself with people that provide you with what you need. 

The next video was on happiness, a topic, again, so frequently discussed that its physical definition means nothing to me. Obviously, happiness is not a thing, it is not just a feeling, it is not tangible success either. Instead, and I completely agree with her definition more than any I’ve heard before, but happiness is our ability to use our gifts to enhance what we already know. For me, it was obvious in that my skill is relationship building. I LOVE to know people, every little thing. There is nothing I take more pride in than knowing as many people as I do around the world: and each one profoundly impacted me as much, if not more than I think I impacted them. Just knowing that there’s unity in spending quality time with people is THE source of my happiness, more than anything else I could possibly concoct. She also talked about the five people that we all need in our lives to maintain our happiness: that being, a cheerleader, mentor, coach, friend, and peer. I’ll let her explain that, but it really stresses the importance of the people you surround yourself with. Another mantra of mine that she mentioned when talking about those five people is that you really are a reflection of the people you spend your time with. Think about that, because you could be self sabotaging your happiness by spending time with people that couldn’t care less about their impact.  

The last video I watched hit me the hardest and after watching it, I just shut my computer completely and stared at the ceiling. It was about waiting. The contents of this particular video were on the speaker’s decision to wait to have sex until she got married. Was this my personal decision as well, no, but here’s why it still impacted me more than I would have thought. This woman is 33 years old (or was at the time of the filming). She always had this vision in highschool of her first time, and was immediately shot down by her friends. She was “unrealistic” and her “standards were too high.” And yet, she had faith that she was on the right track. I can imagine that waiting, in this society, could be infinitely more difficult by media pressures that make sex a trend..and that’s really what it seems like. I think that if you’ve learned anything from the previous two paragraphs is that doing or saying something over and over decreases its value. I loved this video so much though, not because she was talking about sex, but because she related it to self worth. Everyone deserves to be treated like they’re not...”just another ___” whatever that may be. If that means waiting 33 years, hey, so be it. The more time I spend in quarantine, the more I recognize the value of my body. Everyone is so fragile and our lives are so short, don’t push yourself to a breaking point just to say you did. I, personally, do not want to let just anyone in on that vulnerability anymore. She talks about the four things we should really all be waiting for in life:

1.) The person who sees you for you...and loves you regardless. - This is the essence of acceptance. It’s the sheer concept of meeting people where they are, without making them change, without making them feel bad..about ANYTHING. It’s about complimenting each other, rather than dominating or controlling them. The people that say you have to “become like one person” have it so wrong. You are two individuals who bring out the best in that individuality. *This is where this post started getting hard for me to write so bare with me please, this is uncomfortable for me* It was fitting that this point was so prominent in this video and I happened to stumble upon it at this point in my life. There are very few people, currently, that know this, but I have a condition called vaginismus. Essentially, sex is horrible (correction, the *majority* of the time it’s horrible. If you like numbers like me, I would estimate 80% of the time). It isn’t anything that isn’t treatable, but the root cause of it in most people is either trauma or innate/ subconscious anxiety. There’s no need to talk about it in depth (unless you..wanted to?) The point is, it is a long process to get over it. Mentally, it takes a big toll on me daily. I cry probably once a day about it, but for the most part pretend like it doesn’t exist. I just sit and cry and cry and internally abuse myself over it because it’s not like I had a choice. And, if we’re digging deeper, the truth is that embedded in a society that glorifies sex I feel everyday like the world is judging me for not being able to comfortably do the only thing that seems to matter to anyone at this point. It quite literally is a pain both physically and mentally. The kind of mental pain that kicks the air out of you and makes you panic and think, “what is wrong with me..really?” 

With that being said, as I always mention, I am constantly learning. Is it debilitating? Yes. I can never be as carefree as everyone always assumes I am because this will always be in the back of my mind and you never know how people will respond to it. It’s just another one of those things that makes life more stressful than it needs to be. It makes me wonder why anyone would wait around for me to figure myself out when so many other normal people exist. And I quite literally have had this point proven to me, that they won’t, even if they say they will. And for many people, an activity that is finally a source of respite is scary for me..and I feel like a liar if I say otherwise. I can love how my body looks, and other people can like what they see, but at the end of the day I hate it for not being able to do one of its most essential functions. But would anyone know that? No. And I thought I wanted it that way. It’s a mood killer and a snap back to reality when I so badly want to escape it sometimes. Who, in their right mind, would ever want to deal with *waves hands around* this. The good news, it’s not endgame ( not the marvel movie lmao). The right people/person will meet me exactly where I am and together you work around it. If they don’t, frankly I don’t need them around. 

2.) The one that values what you value- I think this is simple enough. Never lower your standards for someone else. Compromise is only valid if both parties are still considered in the outcome. 

3.) Purpose, not fear- This one I FELT, because she rooted it in faith. In relationships, you have to have a strong insurance in the things you hope for, even without evidence. You have to go into it giving someone the benefit of the doubt. There is something so uplifting about living life with faith. In anything really. It’s like a high, because the possibilities are endless. It’s important that you know that everyone you meet is capable of being good for you. You just may not immediately know how :) 

4.) The one that makes you a priority- This one...hmm..the wording. I think that, yes, they should make you a priority. However, even more than that, they should make you making yourself a priority their priority (haha). That would then go both ways. You would put them making themselves a priority as a priority. When you care about someone, you want the best for them. Trust me, you will know the difference between genuinely wanting the best for someone and only wanting the best for them if it simultaneously benefits you. This will seem so much purer. It may not always be easier, but in the end you will always feel better. 

In retrospect, it was an emotional night. I thought a lot about what I valued and what I expect. My standards are high as hell and I don’t regret it. There is a lot of me to unpack and clearly some people were too lazy to do it. That’s okay though, because now I have no issues being absolutely genuine about who I am and what I want. No one deserves to feel like something they value is unimportant. As I said earlier, I almost didn’t want to write this one because of how vulnerable it is. The idea of certain people reading this freaks me out a little bit, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how many people need to hear some of these things. There is so much strength in being nothing other than who you are. 

But it’s worth it 

Ted Talk Links 

Seduction: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3E46oWB4V0s&t=628s 

Happiness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZRCFK1n-NM

Self Love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3fIZuW9P_M

Waiting: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zw7AXwnb8M

I love you guys so much 

-Julia 

[brittanyyoungblog]

Mature Dating: Your Guide to Dating as an Older Adult

If it’s been some time since you’ve dated, you may feel a little insecure about how things are done today. Is it sweet or creepy to bring flowers? What topics may be off-limits? The simple act of dating goes through stages as time progresses, meaning that dating in 2018 isn’t the same as it was in 1998—or even 2008, for that matter.

The good news is that there are certain things that have remained true throughout the years. And in some ways, dating as an older adult is a bit more fun than you may think. Here are a few things to know before setting up your first date.

You’re not too old for dating apps. The biggest change that’s happened in the past decade or so is the way we meet people. Online dating has been around forever, but the stigma about it thankfully stopped a handful of years ago. Probably because we, as people, spend a lot of time in front of computers, so meeting people through profile has become more natural.

Online dating is actually a pretty wonderful way to screen people before setting a time and date to meet in person. You can get to know their likes, dislikes, and if there are any red flags that hit you right away. Be on the lookout for real photos as opposed to posed photos. Do they look like they’re having a lot of fun in the images they share? That’s a good way to figure out their personality. Good sites to check out include Zoosk, eHarmony, and Match.

When you set up your profile, remember that honesty is best. Are you looking for a long-term relationship or just someone to have fun with? Maybe you’re just looking for someone to accompany you to the movies on occasion. There’s no wrong answer, but it’s important to make sure you’re on the same page with a potential partner. This is true for dating at any age, but if you’re still in the midst of mourning a loved one or just wrapped up a nasty divorce, you might not be looking for something serious for a long time, if ever.

Try to remember that your potential date might have a busy schedule. Even if you’re anxious to jump back into dating, remember that both you and your potential match have a full life already. They may not feel comfortable texting at work, and they might legitimately have a list of errands that need to be completed to keep their house afloat. They also might have kids that demand attention, or pets that follow a strict schedule. Unlike back in the day, free time is often hard to come by. So make sure you don’t get discouraged if you don’t get messages back right away. A 20-something may be glued to their smartphone, but a 55-year-old has a lot to do.

Take things slow at first. Not saying that you should avoid getting physical after the first date if you’re both feeling it, but remember that both of you might be a little overwhelmed at the prospect of dating again. Dating and meeting new people is tough, but it’s especially tough if you’ve spent years either in a partnership or blissfully single. Even though all relationships go at their own speed, it’ll take a lot of pressure off if you mentally view the first date more as more casual.

Be respectful of the fact that they may have a little baggage. The truth of the matter is, you do too. Everyone does. But if you go into this thinking that you’ll find a senior man or woman that hasn’t dealt with hurt, or loss, or issues with trust, you may be a little disappointed. Also, know that there may be children in the mix. If they’re underaged, issues like custody and child support will also be a possibility. If they’re legally adults, they’ll still be in their lives regardless. In general, senior dating works best if you try your hardest to be open to all sorts of situations. If you’re uncomfortable with something big, you need to remember that it’s likely not going to change.

Don’t get discouraged. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed about dating—it’s still hard. If it were easy, you wouldn’t see so many articles regarding dating advice floating around. Just remember that a lack of dates doesn’t mean you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life. It means that the great people have yet to find you. These things often take time.

Try to break your routine. It’s true—older people are a little more set in their ways. Because they have to be! Having a schedule helps keep things in order, so sometimes even the thought of changing it might lead to unwanted anxiety. But dating should be fun, not formulaic. Don’t be afraid to break character on occasion. And even if you don’t end up finding the one in the process, you might end up connecting with a lot of fun individuals that’ll help you gain some new life experiences.

Choose a dating location you’re comfortable with. Sometimes, things like knowing the menu in advance will help calm your pre-date jitters. It’s one less thing you have to be nervous about. But make sure that location isn’t tied to a specific memory with an ex. You’re bound to revisit eateries on occasion, but doing so for a first date might make things emotionally harder than they need to be. It’s also good to know the surrounding area. If things go poorly, you can make a quick exit. But if things go well, you can easily pick out the secondary destination for the night.

Be yourself. As you grow older, you become more and more aware of the fact that time is sacred. And that time shouldn’t be spent questioning someone’s motives or playing games. You’re no longer in high school, and there’s no longer pressure to seem cool or exaggerate certain accomplishments or stories. Just be the person you are day-to-day, and show your date why you’re worth pursuing.

Dates can be intimidating for both parties, but if you approach them with a kind and carefree attitude, you’ll likely find yourself having a ton of fun. Just know that you’re never too old to date, and you’re never too old to meet new people that’ll enrich your life.

The post Mature Dating: Your Guide to Dating as an Older Adult appeared first on The Date Mix.

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[trentteti]

A Look at the September 2018 LSAT: Logical Reasoning

For fans of rap music whose tastes go beyond whatever shows up on Rap Caviar, September 29th, 1998 is generally considered to be the greatest release date for rap albums ever. You had Outkast get really into traditional rap subversions and astral funk excursions and spoken word discursions on their masterpiece Aquemini. You had Jay-Z, bolstered by the showtune-sampling hit single, cementing his crossover bona fides force with Vol. 2… Hard Knock Life.* We also had Black Star’s deliberate antidote to the shiny suit era of rap in Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star, the last pre-break-up album from the legendary A Tribe Called Quest, and, sure why not, a Brand Nubian record thrown in.

*That one, btw, holds a special place in my heart as the first non-Bad Boy C.D. I bought with my own money — which a sentence that probably makes me sound positively ancient to you, if the aforementioned Rap Caviar shade didn’t already make it seem like these old man takes were emanating from a body that time has already turned to dust.

We’d like to think that LSAT commemorated the 20th anniversary of this momentous day by making the score release for the September 2018 LSAT September 29, 2018. After all, they’ve made a firm commitment to trying to actually release the scores on the day they promised to. So it makes sense that they’d treat that day with the same pomp and circumstance that the rappers of 1998 did. Sure, LSAC has only mentioned rap music a few times — most notably the used and new rap CDs game from the June 2000 LSAT that was featured Legally Blonde — but there must be, amongst the psychometricians who write this exam and the legal gatekeepers who run LSAC, a few B-Boys and B-Girls thrown in?

At any rate, only those who took the September 2018 LSAT can tell if September 29, 2018 was as great a release date as September 29, 1998. Will your LSAT performance catapult you into the upper echelons of law schools, as Jay’s performance on “Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem)” catapulted him into the upper echelons of the pop charts? Or did you regret how the test went, like how Jay probably regrets his verse on “Can I Get A …” now that he’s married to a feminist icon?

Either way, LSAC has released the exam, and we’re going to break it down for you, section by section. So just like we did for the Logical Reasoning, Reading Comp, and Logic Games sections from the July 2018 LSAT earlier this year, we’ll have our contributors take a look at each section and the “curve,” and report our findings. If you took the September exam and it went great, these posts can be a chance to reflect on a test in a hopefully not-super-triggering way. If you took the September LSAT and are planning to take it again in November or beyond, these posts can be a chance to figure out what went wrong and how to prepare for the next exam. And even if you’ve never taken the LSAT before, these posts can be a chance to get a little insight into what your exam might look like. So without further adieu, let’s get to today’s point-by-point breakdown of the Logical Reasoning section.

• Any discussion of Logical Reasoning should start with the question distribution. While a Logical Reasoning question could discuss any topic the twisted minds who write this test can think of — though I have to admit, as a fans of weird questions, September’s test was a little light on odd topics — there are only a few different things a question might ask you to do.

At Blueprint, we have a classification system that organizes these questions based on what the question asks you to do. We have three broad “families” of questions — the implication family (for questions that ask you to make an inference), the characterization family (for questions that ask you to describe some feature of an argument), and the operation family (for questions that ask you to make some change to an argument). And within each family, there are various types of questions classified based on the type of inference you’re asked to deduce, or the feature the question you’re asked to describe, or the type of change you’re asked to make.

By looking at the question distribution, on a given exam — and comparing it to past exams — you can start to figure out trends in the Logical Reasoning section. Certain question types show up more frequently than others, and over time the test writers have made subtle but demonstrable shifts in the questions that show up the most frequently. If you’re relying on tests from, say, 1998, you’ll get a misleading impression of which questions are going to be the most prevalent on an upcoming exam. These recent exams will give us the best picture of which question types are likely to be more common on the November exam and beyond.

So here’s the question distribution from the September exam …

This exam mostly continues trends we’ve observed on previous Logical Reasoning sections, but with a few notable exceptions. Strengthen questions have recently emerged as the most common question type, and there were a lot of them here. Additionally, part of ubiquity of the Strengthen questions has to do with the increasing prominence of the Strengthen Principle variation of that question type — and four of the eight Strengthen questions were Strengthen Principle questions here.

The September test also maintained recent exam’s de-emphasis on the implication family — with only about 14% of LR questions from that family on the September exam. Also consistent with recent trends: nearly every question from implication family is a Soft Must Be True question. This exam went pretty extreme with regard to that — even now, it’s still pretty rare that exam completely elides any questions that ask you to make a deduction that “must be true,” as this exam did.

We’re also seeing fewer and fewer questions that ask you to describe some structural feature of an argument — like the main point, the argumentative strategy, or a role played by given proposition. Less than 8% of the LR questions asked test takers to do any of those.

But this exam did buck some trends, too. After over a year of Disagree questions becoming increasingly prominent on the LSAT, this exam featured just one of those. This exam was on the low end of Necessary questions (which may have been good news for test takers, since these are among the more despised question types) and the high end for Weaken questions (less good news, because these are also pretty annoying to test takers). What was good news — to me, at least — was that after being left for dead on recent exams, a Must Be False question showed up once again (more on that particular question in a moment).

• Unlike the June 2018 and December 2017 Logical Reasoning sections, this test didn’t overemphasize any one particular commonly test skill — like conditional statements and comparison fallacies in June 2018, or causation in December 2017. There was an even mix of statements that involved conditional statements (about five of these, per my count) and questions that involved causation (about six), and no common fallacy standing out as especially pervasive.

There were, however, several arguments that failed to address the fact that what we believe to be true is not always what is actually true, or that what we intend to have happen is not always what actually happens. At Blueprint, we say that these types of arguments commit a “perception versus reality” fallacy. On a given LSAT, there’s usually at most one argument that commits this fallacy. On this LSAT, there were four.

There was a question in which someone assumed that just because musicians don’t intend to manipulate listeners’ emotions that the listeners’ emotions aren’t being affected by music. There was a question in which someone confused whether people expected a certain action would benefit them with whether that action in fact benefited them. There was a question that turned on whether people who received an extra dollar when given change from a transaction actually “perceived” that they were getting an extra dollar. There was a question in which a scientist assumed that because we can’t observe any active volcanoes on Mars, that there probably aren’t any active volcanoes contributing to sulfur dioxide spikes (this could also have been classified as what we call an “absence of evidence” fallacy).

So, for whatever reason, this particular fallacy showed up a lot. It’s always tempting to attribute certain motivations to the test writers when something like this shows up. Like, maybe this is all commentary on our increasingly fragmented perceptions of the world — in which we frequently refer to things as “Fake News” and “alternative facts” when they don’t align with our perceptions or motivations. But of course, to attribute these motivations to these test writers just because I perceive them to be true would leave me vulnerable to accusations of this same “perception versus reality” fallacy.

• The two LR sections illustrated two different ways a section can progress. The second of these Logical Reasoning sections progressed in way these sections typically do — with easy questions at the beginning, medium questions in the middle, and difficult questions towards the end. The disparity between the easy and hard questions in that section was more pronounced than usual, if anything. The section featured many of what thought were easy questions all the way through question 17 or so, and then went on a pretty brutal run of several super tough questions at the end.

I thought the first LR section, was a bit more unpredictable. Some harder questions were thrown in among the early questions, and there were some easier questions thrown in among the questions that are typically the hardest in a section. I imagine this section threw off the rhythm and shook the confidence of test takers who are used to going from easy to medium to hard questions on a given section.

• The question that dominated the post-exam online chatter I saw was a question late in the first Logical Reasoning section about “kindness.” People couldn’t even remember what kind of question that was, so I was super happy to see it was a Must Be False question. Why was I happy about this development? Because Must Be False questions are really only hard if you don’t know how to do them — they’re actually quite easy if you do. And I knew that my students, at least, would know how to do a question like this.

Here’s what you do on a Must Be False question: look for conditional statements. Diagram them. If there’s more than one conditional statement, see if you can make a deduction. And then just look for an answer choice that states that you can have the sufficient condition of one of the conditional statements stated in the question or that you could deduce but without its necessary condition. That’s it.

And that’s all you had to do for this question. There were three conditional statements that linked up, allowing you to deduce that if two people who are fully content in each other’s presence, then they must want each other to prosper. Which means that any two people on the planet who are fully content in each other’s presence — whether that’s Andre 3000 and Big Boi, Jay and Bey, Yasiin Bey (née Mos Def) and Talib Kweli, Q Tip and Phife Dawg, some combination of Grand Puba, Sadat X, and Lord Jamar (or, you know, any other pair of people who didn’t necessarily release music 20 years ago) — must want each other to prosper. The right answer said that there are some people who are who are fully content in each other’s presence but don’t want each other to prosper — which directly contradicts the deduction here.

• Finally, how difficult were these sections? After waking up early to do this exam, I gave a quick ranking, one through five, of how difficult I thought it was. It’s hard to fully gage how difficult a section is without seeing how many students answered that question, but I tend to have a pretty good idea of what sorts of things trip up the typical test taker and what things will not. Now, this wasn’t the most mathematically or scientifically sound way to assess the difficulty, but if I were good at math or science I probably wouldn’t have taken the LSAT. Anyway, the average difficulty of the questions on the first LR section rated out to 2.8 out of 5 , and the questions on the second section rated out to 2.78. So based on this, it was a little more difficult than usual, but not by much.

A Look at the September 2018 LSAT: Logical Reasoning was originally published on LSAT Blog

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.53

“In for a Penny”

A/N: I apologize for this blatantly ridiculous chapter, which is fairly long. I especially apologize for Groves' existence. He prides himself on being ridiculous. But there's a good reason he's along for the ride. We'll need him later.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 52 - The Danger Within 54 - Finger on the Trigger >>

Lorca eventually sent Saru off to update Landry on the status of the investigation and remained in Lalana's room, bouncing ideas off her.

"Do you think they want us to realize something about the spore drive?" he wondered aloud. Lalana's rooms were warm enough that he had taken off his uniform tunic, shoes, and socks. The t-shirt underneath was regulation black, as always.

"Perhaps the point is the development of the 'anti-spore' you mentioned. Certainly the crew would not be undertaking that if we were not in null time." Lalana was sitting on the hammock directly behind the couch. This put her out of eyesight unless he tilted his head back, which he did now.

"So, somebody freezes time to force us to develop an anti-spore? How could they even know we'd try that?"

"Emellia said her husband's work was decades if not centuries away from practical application at the level displayed by the shadow-man." This was Lalana's term for Lorca's saboteur. She still rejected the idea of it being outright sabotage. "Perhaps he is from the future, so he knew what we would do."

Lorca tilted his head back down. "You're talking about creating a time loop. It's chicken and the egg. How could the shadow-man have known the outcome of null time before he caused it?"

"Because he's from the future."

Lorca sighed. The logic was fully circular, but there was something to it. Either they were being visited by a time-traveling saboteur, or someone was running around the galaxy with a vast temporal power and had chosen to employ it on Discovery for unknown reasons.

"Do you know, your grey hairs are showing."

"What?" Lorca sat up, alarmed, and self-consciously touched the side of his head where the grey tended to appear. "They are not. I don't have grey hairs."

She clicked her tongue at him. "Of course you don't, Gabriel, not yet, but if we do not get out of this situation soon, others will start to notice when eventually you run out of hair dye. I do not think you have fully taken this into consideration."

Lorca covered his face and groaned. She knew him too well, she really did, and she was having a good laugh at his expense right now.

Her tail flicked down and brushed the top of his head. He peered out from his hand and wrinkled his nose at the motion. She said, "If you bring me the dye, I will fix it for you with such precision you will not run out for many months."

He tilted his head back again and looked up at her. "Appreciated, but it's not needed because we're getting out of here soon, so I can use as much as I damn well please."

"I believe that you believe that," said Lalana. A perfect non-statement. It wasn't even clear if she was referring to his belief they would escape soon, or the idea that he had no need to conserve the tools of his own vanity. Probably it was both.

"I don't mind a few grey hairs," he said pointedly.

"Yes, you do," she said. "As usual, you protest hardest at the truth."

"Right, well, to get back to the topic at hand, what do you think the shadow-man wants us to do?"

"Perhaps it is not us. It could be anyone on the ship."

"Be honest. You think you're so special it must be you," he said in jest.

Lalana chose to take the statement at face value. "I am not special. I am background radiation. That is the opposite of special. The one who is special is you."

"You think I'm the key?" It was hard not to be swayed by the flattery, but Lorca suspected if any single person was the key to this, it was Mischkelovitz. She had the prior connection to the chronitons and the technology in play. He sat up, said in mock seriousness, "Shadow-man! Let us out! That's an order from your captain!"

Nothing happened except Lalana clicked her tongue.

"Not me," concluded Lorca, settling back. "We can also rule out making Mischkelovitz cry, because if that was the secret, we'd have been out of here five times over by now." He started laughing. Lalana clicked her tongue and swatted his head lightly with her tail.

"That was mean, Gabriel!" managed Lalana, but her tongue kept clicking.

"It doesn't make it wrong!" He ended his laugh with a yawn. "It's getting late."

"You can stay here if you like and sleep on the couch."

"Your quarters are a little too warm for my taste." This was an understatement. The temperature could be described as tropical, even if the humidity was slightly lacking.

"Then take off more clothes." He blinked in disbelief. Lalana's tongue started clicking again. She was joking with him, of course. "Go on, then. Maybe Ellen will still be up." It was just after midnight, so probably not, but a lot of crew schedules were getting disrupted absent the meaningful passage of time. Forcing people to live by the ship's clock only went so far when more than half the crew was on standby with nothing really to do besides manual busywork that served only to pass the time.

Lorca sighed and pulled on his socks and shoes. A thought occurred to him. "What if it were Milosz Mischkelovitz, come back from beyond the grave?"

"How would that even work?"

"Honestly? I don't know." The spores clearly had some temporal properties, so maybe a time ghost wasn't completely out of the question.

”I think that would be sad," said Lalana.

"And if it were me, back from the dead to haunt you?"

"What is dead is dead."

Another non-statement. Lorca sighed again and went to the door. "Goodnight, Lalana."

"May your sleep be unencumbered," she said.

"And tomorrow be a brighter day," he finished. Everything on the ship was beginning to feel so predictable. He preemptively closed his eyes as he hit the door controls, expecting to find the lab lights on full.

The lights were dim and the lab was empty. Mischkelovitz seemed to have already gone to bed. Lorca made his way out, slipping his tunic back on in the outer chamber as he waited for the doors to cycle.

O'Malley was standing just outside, apparently waiting for him. "Captain," said the colonel. "A word?" Allan was on shift as well, looking pointedly forward and ignoring them both in the manner a true security professional.

"It's late, colonel," said Lorca.

"I am aware, captain. But as you're here..."

Lorca yawned again. "You have three minutes."

O'Malley motioned for them to move to the next section of corridor and closed the containment doors on both sides for privacy, alarming Lorca. O'Malley was armed with a phaser rifle. Lorca was armed with wit and good looks. In a fight, the phaser rifle seemed to have the advantage. O'Malley said, "Right. What exactly are your intentions regarding Emellia? Are you going to take her off the ship?"

"Not if I don't have to," managed Lorca, yawning again.

"Here's the thing, captain. I think, and maybe it's a bit mad, but she seems happier here than she's been anywhere else since Milosz died. I know Saru has concerns, he's mentioned as much to John, and John certainly has strong feelings, but I'd appreciate it if you'd continue to give her a chance. I realize she's... herself..."

That was one word for it.

"But she really is brilliant, and if anyone can crack this cloak detection problem under these circumstances, it's her."

"You're assuming we get out of null time in one piece," pointed out Lorca.

"Oh, absolutely. Of that I have no doubt. Too many bright minds on this ship for us to fail. So then, I'll have your word, captain? You won't remove Emellia from Discovery?"

Lorca did not answer immediately. There was really no telling what the future might hold and any promise on the subject was potentially a lie. "You have my word."

O'Malley extended a hand. They shook on it.

"What does it matter to you what happens to Mischka?" asked Lorca.

"You might say our fates are tied. Goodnight, captain." O'Malley opened the doors and returned to his post.

Lorca watched O'Malley go. The man was a question mark in a lot of ways. Internal security personnel files were notoriously sparse on detail, and O'Malley's was no exception. Lorca knew less about him on paper than almost anyone on the ship. He could tell O'Malley and Mischkelovitz had history, and O'Malley's words seemed to imply it went back to some point before the Battle of the Binaries, when Milosz had been alive. Was O'Malley responsible for taking away Milosz's work on temporal mechanics and was now guarding the widow out of a guilty conscience?

It was too late to figure it out now. Lorca resumed his trek towards bed.

Based on the single frame, they determined the shadow-man to be between five-foot-eight and five-eleven. This range included most of the male population of Discovery, including Lorca, and several of the women, though the silhouette felt more instinctively male. It conclusively ruled out O'Malley, who was too short unless he had taken to wearing stilettos, and Larsson, who was too tall. Not that Lorca had ever seriously entertained the idea of the Swede of all people being involved in some sort of temporal shenanigans. Larsson was rather like a cinder block. Even time could not move him.

Saru, Landry, and Mischkelovitz were also excluded. Again, not real candidates. That still left Groves as an option, and as ridiculous as it sounded, the idea of Milosz's ghost, because Lorca had no idea how tall the deceased scientist had been. Not that Lorca seriously thought it was a ghost. Perhaps Milosz had discovered some way to encode himself into a temporal plane and created a time remnant as part of his research. At this point, nothing was really off the table.

Except for fungicide. "We cannot use fungicide," said Stamets. They were at another meeting of the senior science staff in astrometrics and Kumar had come up with the idea. "For starters, the spores are trapped in time, so they probably won't even react to an external force of that nature. Then there's the issue that fungicide doesn't just negate spores, it causes a reaction, and adding energy to the system is the reason we can't use a tachyon beam. Right?"

Mischkelovitz nodded her head once.

"How is fungicide different from an anti-spore?" asked Groves.

Egorova explained. "In this instance, an anti-spore isn't really a spore so much as it is a set of particles that possess compatible characteristics to the mycelial particles. When they interact, they re-bond the mycelial particles into a non-mycelial configuration. Theoretically." The word was not intended as a slight against Stamets' lack of progress, but Stamets glowered all the same.

Groves squinted. "What about an anti-chroniton? Negate the temporal particles instead of the mycelial ones."

"If we had the capability to measure the temporal particles, I'd be all for it," said Egorova, "but we don't."

"And we don't have the technology to generate exotic temporal particles," said Saru.

Egorova had some new ideas of her own. "I've been thinking that we might be able to disrupt the field by transporting particles. It would take a very particular beam configuration, but it might work. There also may be a way to draw energy from the system, which would hasten the time it takes the mycelial field to reach the point of collapse."

"That, I like," said Stamets.

"It's interesting, actually," said Egorova, a clear sign she was heading into an aside. "The temporal particles would have naturally detached by now except the mycelial spores provide an excellent power source. Honestly, I'm beginning to really appreciate your research, Paul."

"Thank you!" said Stamets, completely forgiving her for the "theoretical" remark earlier. "It's nice to be recognized." He tilted his head sharply, shamelessly directing this dig at Lorca.

"Kumar, update me on the rationing and power consumption," said Lorca before the conversation devolved into more flattery of Paul Stamets.

After the meeting's end, Lorca held Groves back, waving Mischkelovitz out.

"If this is about me being in these meetings," began Groves as the door closed.

"It's not." Lorca found Groves a useful inclusion, even if he mostly served as a sounding board for the scientists. "I'd like to invite you to dine with me tonight."

"I'll let Mischka—"

"No. Just you."

Groves squinted at Lorca. "Are you hitting on me?"

Lorca rolled his eyes. He regretted this already. "No. Nineteen hundred hours. Dismissed."

Groves walked out looking dazed. Lorca heard Mischkelovitz ask him what was discussed but did not hear the reply. Culber was waiting to enter. "Could I speak with you a minute, captain?"

Lorca waved his hand in assent.

Culber was growing concerned about the crew's mental state. "People are getting stir-crazy, captain, and it's only been a week. From what Paul tells me, we could be stuck in here for months."

"We'll get out of here before then," said Lorca.

"I wish I had your confidence. As it is, I think we need to seriously consider what the crew is doing while they're off-duty."

Lorca raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Are we running out of contraceptives, doctor? Personally, I'm not a huge fan of abstinence." He chuckled.

Culber did not find it funny. "Captain."

"Well, I hear board games are all the rage," said Lorca. The classic pastime was enjoying a sudden recurrence as an allowed recreational activity that consumed no active power beyond the initial fabrication of parts.

"The crew can't play board games for weeks on end."

"What would you have me do, doctor?" asked Lorca. "If we try to bring more systems online, then you'd better hope I'm right about us getting out of here." As it was, Lorca was doing everything possible to maintain a sense of discipline and order in a situation where there seemed to be no immediate point. He was personally overseeing the most trivial of assignments to ensure compliance and maintaining as strict a schedule as he could for everyone to remind them this was a military ship with a highly-trained crew. For the most part, it seemed to be working, but the majority of the crew were on shorter shifts out of necessity. There was barely enough work available for everyone to feel they were contributing in any meaningful way.

Really, the person he was most failing with the schedule was himself, because he'd restlessly stayed up late too many nights in a row at this point, and he was starting to feel it. He was puffy-eyed and short-tempered.

"We should organize activities," said Culber.

"Like a pleasure cruise?" said Lorca distastefully. He had made every attempt to avoid having his commands devolve into such frivolity. Now fate had decided to make him eat his words.

"If that's what you want to call it. We keep people active, engaged, and happy."

Lorca exhaled heavily. "Fine. Congratulations, doctor, you just nominated yourself for the job of cruise director."

"I'll have a full list of suggested activities for you tomorrow."

"Don't bother. Just do whatever the hell you want, so long as it doesn't consume any power."

"Thank you." Culber started to leave, then hesitated. "Captain, I can see this is taking a toll on you. I'm here to talk if you need to."

Lorca closed his eyes and touched a hand to his forehead. "Thank you, but no," he said.

"You're a part of this crew," said Culber.

"Dismissed, doctor."

After Culber was gone, Lorca learned on the base of the astrometrics console and sighed heavily. Culber was right, unfortunately. This was taking a toll. He had never been so stuck in his life. The idea they were getting out of here soon was the only thing keeping him going. He couldn't even turn on the starmap and mess with it as a distraction like he usually did. It would be a waste of power.

How desperately he missed the stars.

Groves arrived ten minutes late. "Sorry, I didn't know if I was coming," was his excuse.

"You were ordered to come," said Lorca.

"That was an order?"

"Anything a captain says to you is an order."

"I just don't see it," said Groves, with a shrug. "This is why I never joined Starfleet."

"You're in Starfleet now."

The captain's mess was a very nice room, even with the lower lighting Lorca preferred. The colors were silvery and the table could seat six comfortably and eight without trouble. There was none of the sentimentality and warmth that had been Georgiou's trademark in her dining room. No wood, only metal, and recessed lighting with a blue hue. There were curved lines in the surface of the table that felt halfway between abstract and geometric and provided a visual point of interest. The only actual decoration was a schematic of the Buran on the best-lit wall of the room. Groves looked at it curiously.

"That's the Buran. Your ship that was destroyed," Groves noted.

"To serve as a reminder," said Lorca. He offered Groves a glass of wine.

Groves waved his hand. "Just water, thank you."

They sat down. Groves whistled when he took the cover off the plate. "We're on food rationing and you're..."

"Eating the perishables," said Lorca, smirking.

"I'm pretty sure steak keeps a long time in cryo," said Groves. "Not that I'm complaining." He smiled at the plate and picked up the fork and knife. "So what am I doing here, other than keeping you company?"

"I was hoping for the chance to pick your brain."

"Oh? What on?" Groves expertly sliced into his steak. Not the type to wait to get to the meat of things, it seemed.

"Your colleagues."

Groves froze with the fork halfway to his mouth. He took the bite and chewed a little too thoroughly before swallowing and reaching for his water. "And you thought you'd ask me instead of them?" He took a long draught of water for good measure.

Lorca was disappointed to see Groves so quickly rattled. He covered his annoyance with a liberal dose of charm. "Yes, well, aside from the news coverage, I found Dr. Mischkelovitz's file to be a little bare for a member of Starfleet, and I'm curious about the good doctor. You seem to know her well."

Groves set his water down. "I suppose."

Groves had clearly sussed out that this dinner was in fact an excuse for an informal interrogation, and, in typical lawyer fashion, he was offering short, spare answers. Though this was Lorca's intention, he knew he was unlikely to get far with Groves in this state of mind. "No need to be defensive, counselor, I'm just looking for some insights. I know Saru's spoken to you about Mischkelovitz continuing aboard Discovery once we're out of this little predicament."

"Little predicament" was not the words Groves would have used. "He said you intended to keep her on."

"Unless there's reason not to. Or is this in violation of client confidentiality?"

"Probably," said Groves. "It's a tricky line."

Contented as a cat, Lorca said, "A line you seem to have crossed already."

Groves frowned at Lorca and picked up the water again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Groves. You sleep with all your clients or just the ones with dead husbands?"

Groves choked on his water and started coughing. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he said when he was recovered enough to speak. "I'm sorry, what!?"

"Did you think I didn't know?" asked Lorca, maintaining an impressive level of calm. "Emellia was very open about sharing your bed."

Something changed on Groves' face. His eyes went wide and his mouth contorted into a smile that threatened to turn into a laugh. "I'm sorry," he said, breathless and seemingly ecstatic, "say that again?"

"I'm aware that you've been sleeping with Dr. Mischkelovitz," said Lorca, managing admirable restraint in light of Groves' rising hysteria.

Groves began to laugh. Pure, unbridled, hysterical laughter. It was higher-pitched than Lorca would have expected. "Oh my god!" he cackled. "I know I said I wasn't ethical, captain, but even I have to draw the line somewhere!" He doubled over, slapping the table with his hand. "This is—this is perfect! Computer, computer. Where's O'Malley?"

"Colonel O'Malley is in corridor 9-B." This was the corridor outside Lab 26.

"Computer! Groves to O'Malley!"

Lorca stared in complete shock as Groves violated every rule of order and the most basic manners by calling O'Malley in the middle of dinner.

"O'Malley," came the reply.

"Mac! Mac! You'll never believe what the captain just said! Okay, okay. He just suggested I was sleeping... with Mells!" Groves started laughing again.

"Right, well, that's amusing and all," said O'Malley, entirely unamused, "but I still don't care. Wait. Aren’t you with the captain right now?"

"I can't even describe his face to you. He looks so angry!" reported Groves, delighted.

It was true. Lorca was positively incensed, napkin gripped in his hand and jaw tensed with anger. His eyes were filled with a dark foreboding.

"John! Knock it off! O'Malley out."

Groves continued laughing hysterically. "I'm so sorry, captain! I just, I just... It's not that I wouldn't sleep with a client, I've done that plenty of times, but you think I'd sleep with my own sister!?" He laughed again.

The revelation washed away much of the anger as Lorca put the pieces together. A mildly amused surprise rose in its place. "She's your sister?" He would never have guessed it. Not only was there no information in either of their files that indicated as much—they didn't have a shared parent listed and they were born on different planets—but they looked nothing alike. Groves was tall, brown-eyed, with medium brown hair. Mischkelovitz was short, blue-eyed, and had dark brown hair. Even their skin tones weren't very similar. There was some resemblance in the nose, and the matter of their secret little language.

"Half-sister, but, that doesn't mean it's half-okay to sleep with her. I mean, come on! But, uh, don't tell anyone she's my sister, okay? It's not exactly public knowledge, and I'd like to keep it that way. For appearance's sake."

"You appeared to be sleeping with her," Lorca pointed out.

"Don't feel bad, captain. You're not the first person to think we were. It just gets funnier every time!" Groves chuckled. He really seemed to enjoy having one-upped Lorca, even if it was in a completely useless context.

Lorca decided to skip to another line of inquiry. "Then you can tell me about her husband?"

Groves froze. "Mischka? What about him?"

There was no reason to waste any more time on Groves than was necessary. Lorca sat back and crossed his arms. "How tall was Milosz Mischkelovitz?"

"Five foot?" said Groves, sounding uncertain.

"Five foot what?"

"No, just five feet. Maybe four-eleven, if I'm being honest? What the hell does it matter. He's dead." Groves was entirely flippant about the death of his brother-in-law.

There went the time remnant ghost theory. Lorca squinted at Groves, wondering what it took to shake him. "Then, Emellia and O’Malley," Lorca suggested. There was an almost lyrical cadence to the combination of names. Given the rather tense relationship between Groves and O'Malley, Lorca was hoping the statement would break Groves' proverbial stride.

It did not. "Wow, captain, you are bad at this," said Groves. He really had no sense of decorum, or even apparently any instinct for self-preservation. "Like, tremendously. I'll put you out of your misery, because Mac does not find this as funny as I do. So, Melly's mum left Mac's dad and had an affair with my dad. Ergo, Emellia. You follow?"

Lorca followed completely. It was Groves who was failing to understand the situation. "You’re dismissed,” said Lorca.

"I'm not your enemy, captain. I left a very comfortable—not to mention safe—position to come to a warzone, of all places, just to repay a debt I owe a dead man."

"Dismissed," repeated Lorca, the word a hiss through his teeth. "If you prefer to go to the brig, that can be arranged."

Groves did not look intimidated in the slightest. "On what charges?"

Leave it to a lawyer to think there was due process involved. Lorca smiled. "This is my ship, Groves. What I say, goes." Not technically true, but a blanket charge of insubordination would suffice under the circumstances.

At last, Groves seemed to grasp the balance of power. He grabbed his plate, went, "Thanks for dinner, captain, it's been weird," and fled with his prize.

Lorca sat unmoving for several seconds after Groves was gone. Refusing to be put off his meal by the antics of an apparent madman, he stabbed at the steak and chewed it, glowering across the empty room at an invisible point in the distance. This week just kept getting worse and worse.

Groves was definitely not ruled out as the saboteur. If anything, he had just jumped to the top of the list.

Over the course of the week, Culber organized jogging, meditation, and debate activities. It helped, but not completely. If this went on for much longer, what other activities would the ship end up with? Cooking class? Choir? Origami? They could fold and unfold the same pieces of paper endlessly as they waited for the end of time.

Someone used their fabrication ration to make a one-thousand-piece puzzle that had taken over a whole table in the mess hall. Lorca tried to decide if he should come down upon the crew like the unholy hammer of god or let them continue using the extra hours of free time most of them now had however they saw fit. "Let them be, it's harmless," was Lalana's advice. "Humans are not as good in captivity as lului. They do not find watching walls an engaging activity."

"You like staring at the walls?" asked Lorca, genuinely horrified at the prospect.

"Where you see a wall, I see many things," said Lalana. "There are better things to look at, yes, but a wall will do when there is nothing else."

Meanwhile, Stamets continued to make slow progress no matter how many impossible deadlines Lorca saddled him with. "I can't make this go faster than it's going," he said miserably. Lorca noted the cultivation bay was beginning to look like a proper forest and suspected Stamets was not working hard enough. Examination of the security footage revealed that Prototaxites stellaviatori grew quite quickly on its own in the right conditions.

Stamets really was doing his very best to get them out of null time and not be distracted by his grow room. He just wasn’t having much success.

In the security footage, Groves turned out to be in the mess hall at the time of the sabotage. There were no phantom smudges to indicate he had anything to do with it or any sign he possessed any sort of device. Nothing turned up in the search of his quarters, either. Lorca decided to keep an eye on him anyway.

Groves was a spectacularly uninteresting man to watch. He spent most of his time in Lab 26, off to the side, totally uninvolved. When he wasn't there, he was in the mess eating, in his quarters sleeping, or shooting hoops in a storage bay with the basketball he'd used his allotted fabrication ration to make. Occasionally he would meet up with Egorova in her quarters. No secret what was happening there, though it was apparently a recent development stemming from their meeting during the current crisis.

It would have been a complete wash except watching Groves gave Lorca the chance to observe Mischkelovitz firsthand and see exactly what had so concerned Saru.

Mischkelovitz never sat still, which Lorca could appreciate. Up, down, left, right, manic to panicked, she was a walking disaster. She was constantly bouncing between half a dozen different things and talked to herself. Sometimes she seemed to be talking to her dead husband. Sometimes she just made funny noises, seemingly because she found it enjoyable. There was never any telling what she was going to do from one moment to the next.

In a temporal bubble where nothing seemed to change, having something so utterly unpredictable was an unexpected delight. It was funny, watching her work. Lorca left the feed up and running as a sort of petri dish of human instability for his own entertainment.

Lalana appeared on the feed, too. She seemed to enjoy watching Mischkelovitz as much as Lorca did. They would listen to music and talk while Groves sat doing seemingly nothing in the corner, Lalana providing her usual brand of pithy fortune cookie insights. Mischkelovitz treated these as mini-challenges to unravel.

On the subject of null time, Lalana said, "A problem is like a cloud. You cannot see the shape of it when you are standing inside it."

"But the cloud is the same shape as the ship," said Mischkelovitz, describing the spore field they were trapped in.

"Is it?"

Mischkelovitz thought about that. Then she exclaimed, "No! It isn't!" This sent her off along some sort of research tangent involving mapping the precise shape of the mycelial field with particle-level precision.

Lorca also observed a marked difference in the way Groves and O'Malley interacted with Mischkelovitz. Groves sat in constant vigilance but ignored her unless specifically directing her to do things like eat, wash, or calm down. O'Malley kept his distance and spent most of his time on guard duty outside the lab, but absolutely doted on Mischkelovitz when they were together and never seemed to do more than faintly suggest she ought maybe to go to sleep if she felt like it. Neither method, thought Lorca, was wholly effective.

The most interesting things were what happened when Mischkelovitz was totally alone. In those moments, she was entirely unencumbered by the need to be anything other than what she was. It was a rare thing to be able to observe a person with such intimacy, to see the person they truly were absent all society.

He should have turned off the feed and allowed her the privacy she thought she had, but there was something beautiful in the brokenness.

Pacing was everything. As Lorca's footsteps echoed down the corridors and sweat dripped down the side of his face, the universe was reduced to the sound of his own breath in his ears and the sensation of his feet striking the ground.

He passed a small group of joggers going the other way. They moved aside and stood at attention. He did not acknowledge them; to do so would have broken his pace. When he was past, the group turned around to run in the same direction. He was the captain. His direction was their direction, even if their little social club was not equal to the brutal pace he set for himself.

The other joggers meant it was 0700. Lorca came to a halt near the turbolift, putting a hand out against the wall and breathing heavily from the exertion. He wiped a hand across his forehead and it came away sopping wet. It had been a good run.

"Hey, Captain."

Lorca did not have to look up to recognize the voice and jocular informality belonged to Groves. He was holding his basketball and dressed accordingly. He bounced the basketball towards Lorca and Lorca caught it on sheer instinct.

"How about a little one-on-one?"

Lorca was a sweaty mess, clearly on his way to a shower, whereas Groves was newly-woken and fresh as a daisy. Lorca snapped the ball back to Groves with a glare.

"Nevermind, then," said Groves nonchalantly, and continued on.

Lorca stood a moment, frowning faintly in thought.

He made a quick pit stop in his study before heading to the storage bay where Groves had set up a makeshift basketball hoop using some spare cables and magnets. Groves was shooting three-pointers with decent accuracy and seemed pleasantly surprised to see the captain. Lorca held his hands out for the ball. Groves tossed it over.

Lorca reached behind his back, took the Reptilian blade he had stashed in the band of his running shorts, and stabbed the basketball. Groves looked momentarily pensive. Lorca dropped the deflated carcass of the ball onto the floor and walked away.

"Would you prefer squash!?" Groves shouted after him, laughing.

Part 54