#good luck with a structured approach to baking

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 22🧂

Today is the last part of the Great Rainbow Bake Off preparations! Now we only have the actual competition to go :) In this one, Dokkaebi does her best with Lesion's support. (Rating T, fluff, ~2k words)

.

“What even are cookies, anyway”, Dokkaebi muses as she tries and fails to turn the hand mixer on. Regardless of how many times she flicks the switch, nothing happens. “How does this stupid thing work?”

Lesion, already looking like he regrets ever making her acquaintance, condescends to showing her where the cable is concealed on the underside and even plugs it in for her. “Now be careful with the -”

Too late. She’s already jammed the beaters into the bowl and turned the appliance on, producing an impressive cloud of flour and flinging bits of raw egg and butter around when she jumps at the sudden flurry of action. While trying to turn it off again, she lifts the mixer and spatters both herself and her gracious host in various ingredients while yelling about how dangerous this thing is, and then Lesion is by her side once more to finally put a stop to the salmonella carousel.

Accusingly, she asks him: “Why don’t you have a stand mixer?”

He glances down at his ruined jumper and gives her a look conveying very much what he’s too polite to say. “You need to start on a lower speed”, he explains gently. “And don’t lift it before switching it off.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke anymore. Hey, do you think we could go out back and make a flour explosion instead?” By the time the old man opens his mouth to, no doubt, refuse, she’s already waved him off. “Nah, forget about it. I need to win this, so I better practice. How does your oven work?”

She’s awarded with a quiet sigh.

No doubt he’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone, being misanthropic and morose on his own as he wraps himself in five blankets and drinks litres of tea and/or coffee, but fortunately for him, Dokkaebi stepped into his life to disillusion him of that option. She chose him not just because he has an oven at all, it’s also that Hibana merely laughed when she was asked whether she can bake, Mute shushed her in case Smoke caught wind of their conversation (and though involving them would no doubt have ended in hilarity, nothing constructive would’ve come out of it), Vigil silently shook his head and IQ’s expression turned into quiet horror. She didn’t bother asking Echo – he probably would’ve lied and said yes, then watched her clean his kitchen so she could use it before revealing he has no knowledge to offer her after all.

So yeah. Lesion it is. He’s got a well-stocked pantry, a functioning kitchen and the patience of a saint, making him the perfect victim.

For some reason, her cookie batter doesn’t look right but she figures it’ll be fine anyway. After plopping all of it in small portions onto the baking tray, she tosses it in the oven and glances at the prominent wall clock to gauge the time.

“No timer?”

“Don’t need it. I know when twenty minutes are over. Do you think they’ll come out great first try and I won’t have to do anything else for the contest?”

Lesion raises a brow and glances at the admittedly-malformed lumps she just produced. “Sure. It’s possible.”

.

“Second try!”, she announces good naturedly, slamming the oven door shut. By now, she’s grateful for the apron Lesion provided and has made ample use of it. She looks like she butchered a chocolate Santa. “Done. Now to analyse what went wrong with the first batch.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Lesion is perched on the only chair in the small room, doing a crossword puzzle in between critiquing her non-existent talent.

“No. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dom said so himself. And he would burn a salad.”

The old man is judging her, she can feel it in the back of her neck – it’s a skill she’s developed over years of being surrounded by guys who think they know better than her. Even if it’s warranted in this case.

“Why do they look so odd? What’s this white stuff?” She pokes the sad, melted masses of sticky dough she rescued from the oven half an hour ago with a frown. Some of them have weird holes, others are flatter than the rest, and some display streaks of a substance she can’t identify.

“Flour”, comes the exasperated reply.

“Oh. But it’s supposed to be in there, right? You can’t make cookies without flour.”

“You didn’t mix them enough. You’ve had clumps of butter that melted out of the dough in the oven, that’s this brown stuff here. And you didn’t chill them, that’s why they’re so… horizontal.”

Huh. Good to know. “I didn’t chill these ones either”, she points to the glistening balls of dough currently being baked.

Lesion gives her another look.

“You could’ve said something!”

“I’m already keeping you company, that should be enough.”

.

“Weird that it’s so little dough this time”, she wonders out loud while inspecting the cold blobs with narrowed eyes. This time, she feels like she did everything right, she made sure everything was incorporated well and even put the blasted things in the fridge for a good while. “Oh well. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Then you got some time to help me. Who’s the first programmer again? Babbage doesn’t fit.”

She regards Lesion with disdain. “Lovelace. How dare you forget that the first ever computer programmer was a woman.”

“And another, I need the name for the protocol employed by network switches to ensure -”

“Spanning Tree. Also based on the work of a woman.”

“By the way, what kind of cookies are you making again?”

“Sugar coo-” Dokkaebi slams her fist on the table, making Lesion jump. “Fuck! I forgot the sugar!”

.

She doesn’t miss Lesion’s conspicuous glance at his wristwatch. “I’ll be done soon”, she threatens while watching her handiwork, crouched in front of the oven. It’s really working overtime today, she reckons. “This is the last one. Everything’s in, I mixed it well, I chilled it, I gave them a little kiss and wished them goodnight, and now they burn in hell for their sins.”

“What crime did they commit, being sinfully delicious?”, he mutters in the direction of his phone while typing away. Dokkaebi suddenly realises she hasn’t checked her notifications in more than two hours, which is an absolute miracle – normally, her fear of missing out gets the better of her and though she’s been trying to cut down on screen time, she finds herself unable.

“I wish.” Both of them have yet to eat a single cookie and while they’ve nibbled on some, they didn’t dare eat a whole one. Just in case.

She deems the cookies done and gets them out with an oven mitt, poking at the malleable substance with curiosity. “They look good. Don’t you think? They might be fine.”

Lesion, for once, looks vaguely impressed. The cookies are a nice golden-brown colour and have held their shape well, somehow. Dokkaebi cuts one with a knife and lets it cool on the counter for a bit before offering one half to Lesion, putting the other half into her own mouth. Both of them bite down at the same time … and spit it back out at the same time.

“That”, Lesion forces out with a grimace, “tastes bad. What did you do?”

Dokkaebi struggles to come up with an answer before sweeping her gaze over the counter still littered with ingredients, nearly slapping her forehead once she notices. “Oh. I used salt instead of sugar. Oops.”

Another sigh. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to keep trying.”

.

A while later and in the midst of an involved multi-player battle, Dokkaebi hears footsteps approaching. She’s so engrossed in her current game that she doesn’t look up when Lesion opens the door, merely opting to ask: “Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“Not if you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

It takes a second. “Oh fuck!” She nearly drops her phone as she scrambles to yank the tray out, coughing at the smoke emanating from it.

“Looks like someone’s getting coal for Christmas.” Lesion looks and sounds very much done. Just like the cookies. “Please go home now, Grace.”

.

She’s back the next day, undeterred. Lesion may do his best in trying to ignore her, though he thankfully is brave enough to try whatever she shoves under his nose from time to time.

“Not bad”, he rates her first attempt that day before audibly biting on something very crunchy. “Ah. Especially the eggshell. A brave addition.”

Right. Next try.

“This… tastes odd, and it’s kinda dark. What kind of flour did you use?”

Dokkaebi doesn’t really understand the question and shrugs, irritated. “Flour.”

“No, but -”

“It’s flour. It says on the packaging. Flour. See?”

Another look.

“Okay. What’s wrong with it?”

“This is buckwheat flour. It’s not the same as wheat flour, it tastes -”

“Flour is flour, it should do the same thing!”

“It doesn’t though, it will -”

“Flour is flour!”

.

Dokkaebi has never seen Lesion’s place this neat. While she occupies his kitchen, he apparently can’t relax enough to do nothing which results in him pacing about the flat and compulsively cleaning and tidying whatever sticks out. And there’s a lot of things that stick out. In the time she’s produced three more failed batches, he’s made sure the bathroom is sparkling, folded his laundry, put clean sheets on, took out the trash, sorted his books and tidied the living room.

In turn, she has not taken her phone out once.

“Try this”, she pants once she’s finally gotten a hold of him, meaning once she tackled him into the couch because he wouldn’t stop running from her and the cookie-shaped threat in her hand.

With an air of defeat, he bites into it and -

- and doesn’t look like he just drank paint thinner. Instead, he pulls a not bad face. “Surprisingly tasty. Different. What did you change?”

“I bought them at the shops.” For a second, he believes her, and this is even more of a victory than hearing him call them tasty. If he entertains the notion that these are store-bought, even just for a heartbeat, then she’s finally done it. “Honestly, I just did the same thing as always.”

“Everything is the same?”

“Yeah.” He gives her a blank look. “No, really! Butter, sugar, flour… all the same. Come look.” She gets off him and allows him to breathe once again, leading him to the kitchen and presenting her ingredients. “Here. I mean, your white sugar ran out, so I used the packed brown one. But sugar is sugar, it won’t make a difference.”

Lesion just sighs.

.

It’s a testament to the old man’s patience that he doesn’t close the door in her face the next afternoon.

“You were right”, is the first thing Dokkaebi says. “Flour is not flour, and sugar is not sugar. I looked it up. There’s an actual science to this, I thought it was just throwing together the same things with different results.”

“Come in. I restocked, so you can just keep on baking.”

“I actually brought everything I need.” And then some. She holds up her shopping bag and returns the rare smile she receives. “I’ll probably want to use half white, half brown sugar since they do different things, and I’ll try out baking soda instead of powder. Also, I read that browned butter can -”

“You know, I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

Dokkaebi scoffs. “Give up? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I think I’ll keep baking even after the competition.”

“Good.” Lesion gives her a nod of approval, takes the bag and motions for her to go ahead. “So, you were talking about browned butter?”

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous) Platinum in the Arknights equivalent of this scene

“Have you thought about how you’re going to maintain your relationship with everyone here at Rhodes Island?” It had meant to be a simple lead-in to a longer conversation starter, but when Platinum saw the brief shocked expression on the Doctor’s face, the rest of that starter fell away. “...What?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I have put some thought to it, yes.”

Okay, good to know, but- “You’re sure everything’s alright? You looked like you were going to be sick.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my physical therapy session with Sideroca. Hold down the fort while I’m gone?”

“I suppose.” Why should she, though? She wasn’t his assistant; no, that would be Blue Poison, who hadn’t been in the office since bringing the Doctor breakfast that morning. Besides, something was off - that look in his eye told her there was an adventure to be had, and dammit all if this Kuranta was going to let herself be robbed of an adventure.

It started with locating Blue to make sure someone would be in the Doctor’s office to cover for him, since Platinum couldn’t. The ex-assassin stopped by the cafeteria, where the Anura was minding the “cake cage” (a glass case covering the baked goods to keep them fresh). “Hey, Blue, the Doctor had to go to his PT thing. He needs you to watch his office.”

“Oh, alright.” She frowned. “Usually his sessions are after work, though. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Right, no problem.” ‘…After work, huh? So he lied to me. Alright, something’s definitely going on. Maybe Sideroca has an idea.’ Meaning the Kuranta now had to find the Forte to sort things out.

The easiest place to find the trainer would have been either a gym or dojo, but strangely, she wasn’t to be found in either; the assassin caught up with her walking out of- wait, the salon? “Morning, Platinum. Need something?”

“The Doctor said he was going to a PT session with you - your hair looks great, by the way - but Blue told me you usually have those in the evening, so…” Platinum did a full-body shrug. “What’s the story?”

“Hm. I’m not sure, but if he’s using me as an excuse to take breaks, I’m going to have to make sure he doesn’t forget what a session feels like. Thanks for warning me. If he’s not staying in his office, try his dorm. Do you know where it is?”

The Kuranta debated on feigning ignorance before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Cool. Good luck.” Sideroca walked around her. “Your hair looks good, too.”

“Thanks.” Not that she didn’t know that already.

The Knight-Killer wound her way through RI’s twisting corridors - something that really shouldn’t have been possible, but the maddening thing about the ship’s structure was that, as simple as it was to get to places near each other, the farther away two rooms were, the more likely one would have to take some sort of side-passage or unusual walkway to get to it. The Doctor’s room was a prime example of this, being isolated from practically every other room and only accessible through a specific hallway. It wasn’t the ideal situation for sneaking in, to say the least.

As Platinum was approaching that hallway, she felt the walls around her heating up; for some reason, his room was nestled near the boilers and heaters, and in colder months, he could work up a sweat just standing in the hallway if he wanted to. Considering they were were hovering around Chernobog in near-winter…’Stupid heaters. Feels like a furnace in he- shit, is that him?’

“-and I’ll make sure you get that payment as soon as the convoy mission comes back.” The Doctor emerged, phone in hand, walking down the corridor. The Kuranta, reluctantly, hid amongst the exposed heating units. “Yeah, that should be in about five hours…Aww, c’mon, you’re really helping me out here. I’d promote you to E3 if I could…Heh. Yeah? Well, I’m headed that way now, so…” He trailed off as he took a turn, finally leaving the straight-line corridor.

“Finally,” she sighed, resuming her journey and flicking sweat off her arms. “If he wasn’t on his phone, I would’ve stopped him. Bet he’s got something in his room that’ll tell me what’s going on, at least.”

The hallway narrowed as the assassin approached the Doctor’s chamber. That didn’t make a lot of sense from a design perspective (perhaps because the ship wasn’t exactly ‘designed’ in the conventional sense…) but didn’t significantly affect her mission either. She might lie about her weight in most of her documentation, but she wasn’t about to get stuck in this corridor, even if the occasional sudden release of steam grazed her arms (fortunately without burning them).

Reaching the door, Platinum typed in the code the Doctor used for his office computer - 264449992. That got her through, meaning she could finally enter the…Doctor’s…room… ”I guess this is why he’s never brought me back here - what a mess! And he leaves his closet open? How un- that’s not a closet.”

“This is definitely not a closet,” the Kuranta mumbled as she descended the staircase she’d found behind the door. The stairs glowed where she stepped, giving her just enough light to see by. A full flight - no, a double flight - of stairs later, and she’d reached the bottom and another keypad. Same password as last time?...No? She stared at the keypad for a minute. “Different password. Shit…Alright, 77733…3.” Ding! The door opened, revealing- a giant computer screen?

“What is this?” The Knight-Killer approached the console, sitting in a chair built into the floor. That woke the machine up, showing yet another password screen. “Another one? How many layers of secrecy could he possibly need? Hmm…I guess this is worth a shot. 75552844466886, and if this isn’t right I’m-”

Access granted. Platinum blushed - to think he’d actu- wait, those were her actual measurements. Hadn’t she blackmailed the honesty out of every Medic she’d visited since arriving here? How’d he get these numbers? And that was her favorite food, and that was her favorite band, and- he knew about that? How? This wasn’t just a personnel file, this was a full biography! On top of all of that, there were details from her Armorless Union days regarding some of the targets she’d eliminated, and even video footage of- nope nope nope, close the tab, CLOSE THE TAB. However he’d obtained that, he was getting punched for it.

If this was just some kind of Special Operations shrine to her, that would have been one thing, but with a little experimenting, the Kuranta found similar files on Every. Single. Operator. Kal’tsit’s file was particularly interesting - she’d have to come back to read through the whole thing, frankly - but in all of it, there were only two notable omissions, and that was the most troubling aspect of it all. Why didn’t Click and Closure have profiles? Unless…

The assassin, after nosing around just a little more to be sure of what she was seeing (and because her curiosity got the best of her), she stood up- just as her phone went off. “Who’s calling- the Doctor? But-”

Lights blazed to life as the structure of the room made itself clear: a straight walkway leading to a small platform where the console was located, floating in a void over a pool of shimmering gray liquid. As Platinum bolted for the door, she heard a *whoosh* behind her, followed by a *splat*, then another, and then a third from ahead of her as wall-mounted turrets (turrets?!) began splattering the walkway with silvery spheres which foamed and grew to fill space. One struck her in the shoulder, and despite appearances, it proved to be distressingly heavy, knocking her off-balance and gluing her to the floor when she fell. More of the immobilization gel encased her, leaving her in a cocoon of condensate.

The Doctor entered the room a few minutes later. “You asked how I planned to keep my relationship with the other Operators, yes?”

“Y-you can’t just spy on people like this!” The Sniper fortunately still had an opening around her face, allowing her to see, to breathe, and most importantly, to berate. “This is immoral! Everyone’s entitled to their secrets!”

“You think you have secrets? Interesting, in the face of what you’ve seen, that you’d believe those still exist.” He didn’t seem bothered by her breaking into his sanctum; if anything, he was smug about it.

She growled at him. Not a sound most Kuranta could make, but she’d learned to for the added intimidation factor. “What are you going to do to me?”

“On the one hand, some people would say you know too much.” He shook his head as he approached, pulling a vial from his jacket. “I, however, think you understand the gravity of the situation. Alerting someone to this stockpile will only lead to Closure triggering the failsafe and relocating the database - after all, you can’t destroy the truth, only that which bears witness to it. Reporting this to Kal’tsit or Amiya will tip my hand, but I don’t have any intentions to use the knowledge against Rhodes Island, only to keep it together. Simply put: this database is a tool, and I don’t plan on allowing anyone to weaponize it.”

“Great speech.”

He chuckled. “It’s not just a speech, Plat - I mean what I’m saying, I really do. We’re a small company waging a war against the very bones of the earth; we need every advantage we can get. That’s why I want you to help me.”

“...What?” The Doctor unstoppered the vial and, now close enough to use it, poured it over the foam cocoon around Platinum. It hardened and weakened to the point she could break out of it, and immediately after she’d done so, her knife was at his throat. “Help you?! Do you know what I know now?”

“I saw every page you visited and how long you looked at each, so yes, I do.” No fear in his eyes - was that moment earlier an act? Had she somehow fallen for a trap?

The Kuranta wasn’t finding the answers in his eyes, no matter how long she stared into them. “Do you…Does that mean all this time, you’ve been two-timing on me?”

“What?” That caught him off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“You have all this footage, all these profiles, and after talking to Blue and Sid on my way here, I can see you have all these people wrapped around your fingers. Is that all I am to you? Another string around your finger to dangle me from like a puppet?” There were tears in her eyes at this point. Those dates they’d been on - the cafes, the amusement parks, the theaters - had any of it been real?

The Doctor slumped where he stood. “Was that…I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?!” The assassin put her knife away before giving him the punch she’d been waiting to deliver. “How could you not get it?! I hover around you, I ask you out on dates, I flirt with you constantly! That didn’t make it obvious?!”

“I just thought you were trying to set up your eventual assassination attempt.”

No need for any gel, that comment by herself paralyzed her. “You…you thought I’d try to kill you?”

“Y-yeah, I really did.” His mask was crumbling, too, watching her collapse to her knees. “Have I been stringing people along without realizing it?”

“...You know what? Fuck it - I will help you. I’ll make sure you understand EXACTLY what you’ve been doing to us, so you know just what kind of monster you really are.” She tasted bile as she said it, but honestly, at this point, with her feelings an absolute soupy fog, she was relishing a chance to get back at him.

The Doctor knelt down, offering her a hand. “Please. Be as brutal as you want. I need to know.”

“Oh, I will be.” The Kuranta took his hand, a wave of sickening happiness rolling over her as she let him help her to his feet. She glared at him - not through him, like she usually did to people, but inescapably, directly, into him. “I will be.”

[insomniac-arrest]

Hey, youre the only author I follow on this side and I have a big question... For 5 years by now I try writing a book myself. I have everything! Toughed-out characters, a fully developed plot, sideplots, a map of the world, etc. But... I just cant get it on paper. I draw a lot. Some scenes or just the characters to have refs on hand, colors, clothes and stuff but I just cant put down ONE Chapter in words! Maybe its because I'm a perfectionist and struggle too view my work with the eyes of my friends (who all say my writing is really good) I dont know, I'm never happy with my writings and dont wanna put out stuff I dont like. Do you have maybe some tips? I really wanna publish my story! It makes me sad that it takes soooo much time...

“Perfect is the enemy of done.” ― Catherine Carrigan

I wish I had some easy advice for this dilemma, but the truth is that it’s a toughie. It kind of reminds me of when I used to put off doing essays in high school. I’d make my outlines and think about it in my head. I’d plan. I’d wait for the right moment. Then the due date would pass.

If I got a shitty essay in by the due date I was usually good, it was fine, even half-baked essays usually got me B’s (this isn’t a brag on myself, this is just because the American school system lacks rigor). However, if I missed the due date then I was pretty much screwed. The clock was ticking and the task just got bigger and bigger in my head. It was due! I could do it! Nothing was stopping me! I just needed to actually do it.

But I couldn’t. It was too big in my head. It loomed too large. After the due date passed it had to be perfect or else it had to be nothing. And I would just, never turn it in. By college I stopped doing this, but by then I was studying things that I loved and looked forward to reading about and taking tests on.

There are a couple approaches to your dilemma I can imagine:

1. Go do another project: yep, let it go. Set it aside. Forget about it for a while so it becomes less scary. Time and space can do wonders for the creative process.

In the meantime, I recommend honing your craft. Write silly stories, write stories without plot or structure, write fanfiction and terrible prose, write something for the sake of writing. Honestly, there’s a lot of tried and true wisdom around the artistic statement: start small, get good. Painters do all sorts of tiny doodles before they attempt a masterpiece. Begin with doodles. Learn to build a scene before you build an entire house with it, my friend.

However, if that doesn’t help, then here’s option two:

2. Do some emotional exercises: Walking away from projects works, but not always. It’s something I’ve done in the past and I’ve talked to other people where it’s worked really well for them. Some distance from any projects is good.

However, I see a lot of online advise that’s like “if you don’t like it then walk away!” And that stuff frustrates me because I’m like “I don’t want to walk away! I want to fight for this!” Plus, whenever I have just “walked away” I’ve literally never gone back to any those projects. I don’t regret writing them, but I think we as artists need to emphasize the importance of finishing as well. If you’re serious about this then some parts of it are gonna suck so bad. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna be hard. You’re gonna feel shitty because the story is not how you imagined it. You’re going to doubt yourself. Do it anyway. Do it anyway.

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear” —George Adair

I have a mood swing disorder so I do a lot of emotional exercises that are primed to help me distance myself from my emotions. “But you’re supposed to feel your feelings!” You say, and that’s true. Feeling your feelings is step one-- you have to let in, life is suffering, sit with it, look at it, feel it. However, the next step is taking action. You do the thing anyway.

You are not your emotions. 

You have control of how you react to your self-doubt and fear.

Acknowledge them, feel them, and then let them pass like clouds above your head. Then act. It’s okay to be a little hard on yourself here-- like a kind mother. She loves you unconditionally but she also has you do the dishes and put your toys away. She has you do the necessary and hard things, because she loves you.

By the time I was able to write essays in college and actually turn them in I had been to a lot of therapy and then I just . . . started writing. First I wrote for fun, like a madman possessed by a spirit, and now I write for the challenge of it (but at a much slower pace). Writing still often scares me or frustrates me, but that’s okay. It’s normal. They are just passing clouds-- stormy or otherwise. The clouds can’t touch you, not really, so I do it anyway.

Choose whatever path sounds best for you! Writing is a very personal process. It’s hard, but also an incredibly rewarding process. Good luck!

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

I just discovered the cns au today but I love it so much 🥺 Not sure if you discussed it before since I’m still reading through stuff but — do you think the staff who are on their 1st year did some sort of a bonding activity tgt at some point? They seem to be a diverse group to say the least (lol) but I think someone could’ve tried to put them together and say it is a mandatory activity for the ‘newbies’ at camp??? (my heart says boo seungkwan but maybe you have another candidate for this lmao)

Lee Gahyeon x Lee Chan

I thought this was cute but it got really long oops. Chan gets kinda mean at one point. That’s the only thing I think needs a warning.

[10:02]

“Do we have to do this?” Gahyeon grumbled.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be hiking than here right now,” Chan scoffed.

“Yeah, I had plans today,” Yeosang said.

“Quiet,” Seungkwan warned. “This is fun. We’re going to have fun and get to know each other better.” He looked at Yeosang. “And no you didn’t. I know you didn’t.”

Yeosang crossed his arms over his chest, disgruntled. 

“It really will be a good time,” Mingi said brightly. “You guys will have fun and get to know each other. It’s good to bond.”

Gahyeon shifted closer the Chaeyoung as she looked at the small group. Seungkwan and Mingi had insisted on collecting the new staff and spending the day doing... something. She wasn’t sure what. They had done ice breakers before, they didn’t need more trust falls and silly games to remember everyone’s name.

At present Chaeyoung and Yeosang looked bored. San looked sad. Chan was obviously ignoring her in the loudest way possible. And Jongho was just staring at his feet.

Sure. Fun.

“I’m not doing more trust falls,” Gahyeon said.

“Those were lame,” Yeosang chimed in.

“You are all so ungrateful,” Seungkwan sighed, pinching his nose and a hand on his hip. “We’re doing something fun for you.”

“Doubt it,” Chan mumbled. Seungkwan shot him a glare as Mingi started to talk.

“It’s not trust falls. We know you all know each others names and don’t need ice breakers. We want you to actually work together. Do you remember bingo night?” Mingi asked.

Chan stood a little taller, puffing out his chest. “Of course we do.”

“You’d think he’s a peacock the way he postures like that,” Gahyeon muttered to Chaeyoung, earning a giggle.

“He’s too full of himself,” She chuckled.

“Well,” Mingi continued. “We have a scavenger hunt for you. You will have to work together, all six of you for some things. But you also will spend most of the day with your partner. It’ll help you get to know them.”

Gahyeon looped her arm around Chaeyoung’s. “Perfect, I call Chaeyoung!”

“Oh no,” Seungkwan said. “We’ve already decided the partners. You just have to deal with it. Also, if you are the first or only pair to finish your list you win...” He pulled a bag of candies, chocolates, and some home baked cookies from his backpack. “...a prize!”

The whole group was much more invested seeing the prize. Even San and Jongho seemed much more interested.

“Alright, give us the lists,” Chan said impatiently.

“Last thing, you finish by 9 tonight and have to have proof of each item,” Seungkwan said. “And unlike bingo night this is pg.”

“Let us get started,” Yeosang said.

“Okay,” Mingi said brightly. “Jongho and San.”

The two looked at each other, Jongho seeming a little shy. They grabbed their sheet before pouring over it.

“Chaeyoung and Yeosang.”

“Wait,” Gahyeon said, feeling her stomach drop. “no.”

“Seungkwan, what the hell!?” Chan protested.

Gahyeon was sure Seungkwan was smirking at them. “Enjoy your day together,” he said, handing Chan the paper.

[12:15]

“Oh hey!” Gahyeon looked up, relieved to see the others approaching them. The last two hours had been snark and silence and it was driving her nuts.

“Perfect,” Gahyeon said. “Let’s do that pyramid.”

“Whatever,” Chan mumbled. Gahyeon threw him a glare. Why did he have to be difficult for no reason?

“Sounds good to me,” Jongho smiled. He seemed a little more comfortable now. “How should we do it?”

“I’ll be on the bottom,” Yeosang said. “I don’t mind. And you’re pretty strong, Jongho.”

“I’ll join then.” He said.

“I’m strong too,” Chan said quick. Gahyeon bit back her laugh. What did he have to prove so badly. “Gahyeon you’re pretty small, maybe you can be on top.”

“I- sure,” she mumbled, feeling a little flustered. Was that a compliment or an insult?

“Looks like you’re having fun.” As Chaeyoung and San climbed on the other three’s backs you looked up to see Minji coming closer. 

“Can you take the picture?” Gahyeon asked.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s cute to see you all working together.”

“It’s painful,” Chan muttered.

Gahyeon climbed up to the top. “Chae, will you knee him in the back for me?” The whole pyramid giggled as Minji took a series of pictures, asking you all to smile for at least a few.

“I took a bunch,” She said. “Good luck with your day.”

“I feel like we need it,” Gahyeon mumbled.

[2:48]

“Okay, what’s next?” Gahyeon sighed.

“We’ve done a lot of it.” Chan looked at the list. “We can climb up on Cheol’s roof once the kids are in bed so they don’t see us.”

“Should we get the boring ones out of the way?” She suggested.

Chan groaned. “I don’t want to do them. The interviewing each other thing is dumb. What do I even need to know about you?”

“You think I want to do it?” She questioned, plopping down in the grass. “I didn’t ask for this. But I want to win.”

“Me too,” he said. “Otherwise I would have dipped. I don’t need to spend any more time with you than necessary.”

Gahyeon rolled her eyes, ignoring the slight sting of his comments. “Yeah, whatever, we can just do this then it’s done.”

“Sure,” he said, sitting down and grabbing a notepad from his bag. “Best moment at camp so far?”

“I don’t know,” She mumbled. “We put music on the first night the campers were here cuz one girl was sad. And we all just danced and jammed out. It was just fun and wholesome.”

“Cool,” Chan said flatly. Gahyeon felt frustration bubbling up inside her. He could at least pretend this didn’t suck for 5 minutes. “Worst moment so far? Should I just say this? Cuz I’m putting down it’s spending the day together.”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Actually last night one of my campers got sick. I held her hair for an hour while she was throwing up and had to get Minji to call her mom.”

“Oh,” Chan said, his tone much more sincere. “That actually sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.” Gahyeon replied coldly.

“Uh-” He looked back at the questions. “What worried you most about coming to camp?”

“You know what,” Gahyeon said, crossed her arms over her stomach. “I’m doe with this. If we lose we lose.”

“Come on,” he whined. “I won’t say anything this time. I’ll just shut up and write.”

Gahyeon looked away from him, pulling her knees into her chest. “I don’t get along with people easily. I was worried I wouldn’t fit in and everyone would hate me.” She didn’t hear the sound of pencil on paper, instead of Chan placing the notebook down.

“I’m an ass, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are,” Gahyeon mumbled.

“I’m sorry. That probably doesn’t mean much.”

“Nope.”

She heard him writing. Then the notebook poked her leg. Gahyeon spared it a glance before taking it reluctantly. Chan didn’t meet her eyes as he passed it. She looked down and read his answers, realizing he’d written something else for the third question.

“You didn’t write what I said.” She said.

“It kinda felt like something you didn’t want everyone to know,” he shrugged. “I don’t think you wanted me to know.”

Gahyeon doodled a star on the page idly. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said. “You can take a turn asking some questions.”

Gahyeon nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

[8:40]

“Come on,” Gahyeon giggled, dragging Chan to the side of Seungcheol’s office. There was an antenna with a metal base that was easy to climb. “This is the last thing.”

“I’m coming,” he said. “We have time.”

“I like a good margin,” Gahyeon said. She rushed to the metal structure and started to climb. Chan let her go up first. The climb seemed easy but as the evening came dew was settling on things. Gahyeon felt her foot slip as she scrambled.

“Oh my god!” Gahyeon grabbed the metal as she screeched, managing to get a had hold as Chan caught her waist. “Be careful!” He scolded.

“I’m okay,” she said. Still, she climbed more slowly. Chan followed her up closely until they were both of the roof. He took a picture as Gahyeon sat down. He was quick to send it off to Seungkwan before settling beside her.

“Job well done,” he said.

“Looks like we can work together,” Gahyeon said. “Imagine what we could achieve.”

“But then, who’s my competition?” Chan questioned.

Gahyeon felt a smile tug at her lips. “True, it’s more fun that way. So long as you stop being an ass.”

He gave Gahyeon a sheepish grin. “I can do that. We can compete civilly.”

“Agreed.” Said Gahyeon. “But let’s start again tomorrow.”

“Sound good to me.”

[collectivefandomstuff]

Hey mom! I’m stressed at 1am, any advice? I’m having trouble in school via studying sometimes it feels like we’re going from 0 to 100. And I need better study habits, do you have any advice? Bc sometimes it feels like I’m so afraid of failure that if I do study to my full potential (sounds weird) I feel like I loose the excuse of saying oh I got a bad score bc I goofed off. Like if I actually do all my effort to study and do bad, then is there something wrong with me??

(A/N: this answer is so long I almost feel ashamed to post it. I’m very sorry everyone. Anyway, if you’re looking for the concrete tips they’re at the end :) )

Hey :)

This doesn’t sound weird at all because I’m the exact same way. This way of thinking is actually more common than you’d think, and is often a part of the cognitive profile of perfectionism (btw, perfectionism isn’t that apt a name but I digress. Also, this way of thinking doesn’t mean you’re a perfectionist.). Anyway, I know a bunch of people who’ve experienced this, and the common factor isn’t fear of failure, but rather what it is you think you’re failing at. For example, I once told my therapist that I was super stressed over a bunch of stuff and I also had a paper I had to get done, and he asked me what would happen if I didn’t turn it in on time and I was like “academically? nothing. mentally? I wouldn’t be me anymore.” And that’s the stitch.

The people I know who struggle with this are often (though not exclusively) girls, and often people who’re pretty smart. They spent their childhood being told over and over that they were gifted, intelligent, and good at school. And back then, that was easy to live up to. They danced through the first few years of school without any issue, and enjoyed it a lot. They did their homework, understood stuff, and were usually “good kids”.

Now, we’re always growing and re-shaping our sense of self, but the foundations are lain when we’re children. So, when people around you keep identifying you as a smart/good student, then we start identifying ourselves like that too. Especially if it is being reinforced by your actual achievements. And then, suddenly, getting good grades isn’t about doing well or working hard, it’s about identity. It’s about who you are at your core. Thus, the stakes become infinitely higher. If you fail at a math test that you really studied for, then that means that you don’t have what it takes, and that means you are no longer yourself- the intelligent kid who’s good at school. A test might not be that anxiety-inducing, but losing your whole sense of self is. So, in that case procastination makes a lot of sense, because as long as you don’t fail while doing your best then you never put your identity on the line.

(This also applies if failing at school has become synonymous with being a failure, i.e. if you’ve been taught that doing well academically is the only way to be a successful/useful person in society, or if academic success has merged with the idea of a happy future so it feels like failing autmatically leads to an unhappy life. Essentially, mental structures that lead to a misconception of the stakes involved in a single exam/paper/task.)

That said, I do have some more practical things to say here. First off, sometimes we’re in a situation where we can’t do our best and that’s okay. I’ve failed exams, tests, papers, you name it and I still have my degree in the end. It’s never the end all of things.

Now, my own biggest freak out like this came when I started uni. My first paper I went completely insane and procrastinated like crazy, and I failed. And then the though crept in “what if I can’t do this? What if this is it. I can’t handle higher education, even if I try my hardest?” The anxiety was... big bad and mad.

I should say for this next part that my therapist once told me that I have a strangely aggressive approach to handling anxiety. Moving on. I sat down and said to myself “what is worse, to try my hardest and fail or half-ass it and never be able to live the life I want?” Since the answer was pretty obvious, I got to it. I had about 5 weeks until the next exam, and I sat down and planned every single hour until then. I studied for that damn test like I’ve never studied before, and whenever I felt anxious I would tell it to FUCK OFF and focus on the task I had planned. I didn’t allow myself to think beyond that first planning session, I just did what was next on the agenda. What am I supposed to do right now? read these 10 pages? Ok.

I’ve had two exams during my studies where I failed (the second due to the situation I was in) and ended up in this spiral. And here’s the funny thing: I have a small number of courses in uni where I got a higher grade. They include 1) courses that I found extremly interesting and 2) those two courses.

Okay! I know this is already so fucking long but I want to give you some actual tips too. Number one is obviously to plan. Take a whole day, sit down and plan the next month. Consider all your assignments, when they’re due, what you need to do to study, how long that’ll take and when that is done most efficiently. Plan everything in your calendar. Give yourself enough time for each task that you can do it even if you’re not super super focused. Do not study outside these hours. When you’re done for the day you’re done for the day. This way, there’s a clear, reachable end to each study session and you don’t feel as compelled to postpone tasks. When you sit down to study, don’t worry about the other stuff you have to do, or other subjects that you haven’t done yet. They’re all in the plan, all you have to do is what is in front of you. As long as you keep doing that you’ll make it. (If the plan goes to shit for some reason, take a day to plan a make a new one. It happens).

Some things to consider:

Different subjects are best studied in different ways. I used to set aside 15-30 minutes every day in high school for Italian, where I’d sit down and read the chapter we were working on out loud. I didn’t even focus that hard, I just did it every day- the chapter and the glossary. I STILL remember some sentences from that book. Math is best done in longer stretches, but not too long. 1-2 hours preferably. Think about how YOU work. Do you best read a textbook in one go or in increments? Do you learn better in a coffee-shop or your room? Silence? Music? This can also change depending on your subject. Plan accordingly.

For reading, time your reading speed for the book. Read a page at normal speed and clock it, then multiply that by the pages you need to read to see how much time you’ll have to plan for. Round up to give yourself room for spacing out.

Plan for breaks. Think about your normal need for it, but the uni standard is 15 minutes for every 45, making an even hour. Find a break activity that’s has a specific end, for example making some more tea/coffee and snacks and doing some stretches, or maybe playing one race in mario kart. Avoid things that you can get stuck doing beyond the alotted break time.

Buffers. For every five hours or so, plan one hour of buffer time. This is time that you can use if something takes longer than expected. If you do everything as planned, this is surprise free time! :D If you have a long study session, plan 30 minute buffers every two or three hours to be used for extra breaks and to keep panic at bay. Buffers will save your life.

Make a chart with different tasks and have little boxes that you get to fill in with fun colours when you’re done. If you have to read 100 pages, do a bar with ten boxes, that way you can see your progress visually.

Plan for days/evenings that are free. Plan what you’re going to do those days, like “movie night with X”, “play videogames and eat cupcakes”, “take a long bath and read a good book”. That way, you use your free time well and can use those days and evenings as incentive.

Prioritize your work. If you have too much to do, make a list of what’s most to least important and focus on doing the important stuff first. This includes studying tasks. What’s more important, reading that text for the third time or really understanding integrals?

Drink lots of water and eat sugar. It’s brain food. I usually bake before an intense week. That way when I feel myself going down I can go get a cupcake instead of taking time to make something to eat, or worse- try to soldier through which never works.

I hope this helped a little at least :) Good Luck! I believe in you! 💙💜

[thethreemages]

Hm, was feeling the parent-designing vibes again... sooo, here’s ol’ Fevrier’s folks~

Vyktor (age 40) is Fevrier’s father, and a lead scientist at one of the top Kronia labs (specializing in designing robotic soldiers for the Kronian army). A dutiful, stern and collected hardworker, Vyktor was often admired by his colleagues for his strong drive to better explore certain magical structures in order to improve the quality of life for those outside Kronia (finding the other Kronian’s habits of hogging technology to themselves rather juvenile). When he’s not busy testing his latest inventions and robotics deep in his basement lab, he can also be seen tending to his beloved wife and son (whenever Fevrier’s home alone). Was once a pretty popular traveling Mage specializing in Metal Magic... but he long quit that lifestyle since he found the immense attention too obnoxious to deal with after awhile (so he lowkey hopes Fevrier will come around to potentially taking up a lab career like himself). 

Ciere (age 38) is Fevrier’s mother, and a potion-brewer specializing in Dark Magic. Considered an “oddity” around the high-tech Kronia populace for her being more down-to-earth and carefree mannerisms, Ciere’s life goal was to help spread across to the world that dark magic wasn’t something to be feared... but to be put in helpful uses to break away from past stereotypes. Carries a strong devotion to her husband and baby boy, often doting on them both with dozens of sweet pet names, brewing up fresh soups and baked goods for them to enjoy, and just always preferring for them all to at least have one, simple and relaxing family get together whenever Fevrier comes to visit. In terms of dark magic, Ciere secretly carries a lowkey fascination for Necromancy (often having lil ghostly mice help her around her potion sessions)... but the only ones she’s comfortable sharing this info was her husband and Fevrier. 

-------

Vyktor and Ciere met in college many years ago... Vyktor having at that point given up his traveling mage life to focus more on his education. He still had a bit of a following always hounding him for autographs and the like... so one day he hid himself behind some bushes and stumbled onto Ciere test-brewing some potion recipes she came up with.

Vyktor expected Ciere to just jump on him too like the rest... but surprisingly, she treated him alot more casually as she just tilted her head and offered one of her potions out of generosity. Her softness, humility and naturalist-way of thinking all cultivated in Vyktor falling head over heels with her... at first stumbling and getting too awkwardly shy to approach her for a date, but his luck soon came around when in fact she was the one who first asked him to dinner (with a cute lil giggle too)... on the grass, at night, with some simple bread bowl soups and some homemade tea to drink. But to a lovestruck nerd like Vyktor... it was the equivalent of a five-star fine dining course~ ;p

From then on, the two were basically set to be eachother’s “one and only”... marrying soon upon graduating and eventually having lil Fevrier join their family afterwords. In their eyes, it was all this unconventional pair could’ve ever asked for~ 💙

[espanadiarywriter]

White History Month

Maybe I should stop thinking of myself as “white”. Because by being “white” or more precisely by thinking of myself as white, I am buying into the entire system. The entire system built on the backs of owned humans who were oppressively horribly cruelly punished for being humans who were wanted for labor. And if that’s where this American concept of race came from, then how do I deal with thinking of myself as “white”? Especially when I know that all humans are 99.9% genetically the same as everyone else. And that includes Trump supporters. Yes you are 99.9% genetically the same as a Trump supporter. Sorry. Deal with it.

But I don’t mean to imply that crazy argument “I don’t see color,” which of course is bogus and just a way that people negate that racial problems are rampant in this country. If you don’t see race then you imply you are blameless. It means you also do not see how many black people are systematically killed in this country. (I must have done a good job creating a social media bubble because no one in my life says this to me.) So I can’t just think myself out of this—I have an identity and I need to use it for good regardless of the history.

Also, I have never liked the term “privileged.” Again, not because I can’t see there’s privilege to do things safely with certain skin colors. My argument was always that I felt like it didn’t help the conversation. You have to understand I’m always about “what’s the next step?” In this case, what gets to a productive conversation about race? I never stop in the moment. Life is a constant exercise of stop, look, choose. First,  stop moving forward. Then look and see what is happening. Then choose your path. I choose my path without taking time to look. Always. Or rather it’s always my tendency that I have to fight against. Sometimes I don’t even stop. I just choose before something has even happened. I anticipate what will happen and choose my action. I’m rambling on about this because that’s how I chose to dislike the term “privilege”. I’m not thinking “is it true?” (that’s look). I know it’s true. White people have privilege. Instead, I’m already worried about how it will convince or not convince people to see their circumstances. And I already anticipate it makes people defensive. (You know the whole concept of white fragility, right?)

So I’m going to take a step back and look at this idea of privilege. Even a poor white person in America has privileges that every black person does not have. It doesn’t mean we are all richer, or more successful. It means we can walk down the street without getting shot. Now again, I still don’t like the word privilege because quite frankly that should be a right. (Or maybe it’s just that I’m an editor and I didn’t choose the word. Really. That probably explains everything.)

So this podcast I’m listening to does a great job of showing that this exact concept was very, very carefully constructed between 1680-1780 in slave holding US states. And then refined over and over again since then through US history. The rich landholders cultivated the idea that all “white” people had rights as citizens that black people did not have. They had privileges. The rich founders of America actually cultivated the notion of race. Sure, slavery was technically invented earlier and elsewhere, but here it blossomed and race became weaponized. Many of these people were America’s founding fathers and baked the ideas right into the Constitution and laws.

When people look at poor rural voters across the country and ask, “why are people voting against their own interests?” Here is your answer. Rich landowners in the 1600s and 1700s needed a coalition of a newly invented concept of white people that included poor farmers and day laborers in the same category as rich landowners. So that those poor “whites” would have allegiance to the rich people instead of people in their own situation. The rich were facing the real threat of a multiracial uprising of labor. So to retain power, they made up “whiteness”. And it is rooted not just in history, but in the very core founding principles of our country. Power and labor needs. Same story in 2020. Simple as that. Jefferson owned 130 humans when he wrote that “All men are created equal.” News flash: He did not mean all men. Another explanation is that maybe he just didn’t think of black people as men. By the time the Declaration of Independence was written, black men (and women) were already being carefully constructed as sub-human so people could better exploit them. Otherwise how do you keep the poor white working class on your side? Quite a dilemma for the founding fathers.

So here’s the idea that has my head nailed to the floor: if the very notion of whiteness is rooted in a history of oppression, can I even think of myself AS white without being complicit? I don’t have an answer. Just because a concept is constructed doesn’t it make it have less real social (and obviously life threatening) consequences. So then the question becomes HOW do I think of myself as white without being complicit?

Again, I have no answer. But here’s another idea that blew my mind. The Racial Equity Institute gave a lecture on whiteness and race, and they said: Racism doesn’t cause oppression. Oppression leads to racism. People see others in an oppressed situation and make up stories for why it is that way. Those people have no freedom and are forced into labor, they must be inferior. And then the notion of inferior races is born and reinforced and embellished and strangles more people (again, literally). Vicious cycle. This question feels more approachable because there are ways to fight oppression: Criminal justice reform, voting for candidates with progressive ideas, and winning back the courts with progressives.

How did we let the courts get so bad?  Wait, I just answered that question. Our legal system has always been systematically unequal. The courts, the voting structures, policing systems have always been set up to protect Americans who look a certain way (and even more so if you have money too). I mean Portland is this liberal hippie town with a horrendous history of redlining, racism, oppression, and terrible policing. To change these things you have to envision an America that has never existed before. Because (to bring it full circle) America was actually founded on an artificial construct of race. The very notion of citizenship in the 1700s was designed to build the idea of “white” people having privilege.

To think about an America that has never been, I’m going to rely on people who have more vision than me. Right now, I’m going to stop and look around. Then I will choose the path—supporting the things I mentioned above, led by people of color who know better than I do what needs to change. Unfamiliar territory for me for sure. Good luck on all your own journeys too.

For listening about race, I highly recommend at the least the first four episodes of sceneonradio.org Seeing White. They will nail your head into the floor--but in a good way.

[mittensmorgul]

not a strictly spn question, but, as someone who wants to start writing, how the ever-loving fuck do you pump out so many fics so fast?? i’ve been working on outlining the same three stories for like a year (not really) ((but kinda))

Hi there, and congrats on that much outlining! I… don’t outline that much, ever, for anything. But I also don’t think I crank out fics all that fast. It might seem that way sometimes, but the Pinefest fic I posted in February has actually been drafted (and through several rounds of editing) since last August. I only just posted it for Pinefest. So it might seem there was only a month and a half between me writing that and the thing I posted last night, I’ve actually been working on THAT since January… three and a half months for 30k isn’t very fast. :P

I’m putting this under a cut because it’s kinda long, and possibly boring or irrelevant in the big scheme of things…

(I once wrote a 105k word original novel in 15 days, and a friend of mine wrote a 130k novel in just over three days on a deadline, but heck that is atypically fast… and nearly killed them… no really they developed shingles from the stress of it, do not recommend)

So I might be slightly biased here, but at some point you gotta stop outlining and start writing. That’s the secret. You can’t crank out stories unless you actually start writing them.

That said, when I say I don’t outline, I mean I have notes for fic that range from this, for my 8k short:

*soulmate situation described here: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/173681098950/i-saw-a-writing-prompt-that-went-like-this-you Officially written and posted on 11/14/18 as Lost Time.

that’s just a link to a post that inspired the thing, to this, for a 65k fic: 

*NAILED IT! How could I fanfic my way through this baking show? or maybe I should just… write fanfic of this… (notes document: Cakepocalypse notes) (in process as of 4/1/18 as a potential dcbb as Cakepocalypse) (posted 6/23/18)https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017792

(sorry, I removed the link to my notes doc, but what I am willing to show of that:

wherein a lot of those 15 pages consists of images of the cakes in each challenge for my own personal reference while writing.)

Basically the ONLY two fics I’ve ever written an outline for structurally required it:

Cakepocalypse and Around the World in 24 Days, both fics based off “reality show” formats– Cakepocalypse was basically Nailed It!, and AtWi24D is the Amazing Race (and over 101k, based on about 5k worth of very detailed notes I’d be happy to show you if you come off anon). There was no way I could keep track of that many “contestants” and all their challenges, travel, baking, guests, etc. without keeping these sorts of detailed notes.

My previous pinefest fic, Winchester 275, was a 57k AU based on a two sentence thing that had been sitting on my to be written list for YEARS:

*(writing for pinefest, working title of Winchester 275 as of 8/29/17, draft finished 11/29/17, posted 3/6/18 http://archiveofourown.org/works/13788693) astronomy night at a dude ranch in arizona, Cas brings the telescope, dean only sees the stars in his eyes oh god did i actually write that down? yes. yes i did.

And my first DCBB, Revenge of the Subtext, was 80k based on a one sentence prompt: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/130269813965/meangreenlimabean-mittensmorgul.

So if your fic doesn’t NEED you to make such detailed notes, just start writing already. :D

When I first started writing (loooong before I ever started writing fic), some of my encouraging friends told me some interesting stories. We got to talking about how annoying it was that so many people respond to someone saying they write with, “Oh, I’ve been thinking about writing a novel for years,” or something else along those lines. My friend told me she knew a guy who had been outlining his novel for more than a decade, but never seemed to be able to get it quite right so that he felt he could start writing. With that sort of attitude, he probably never will, you know?

You will never have a “perfect” outline. Just like you’ll never have a “perfect first draft.” You have to have a draft to be able to edit it, you know? Can’t edit a blank page, and an outline can only take you so far before it becomes so fleshed out that it ceases to be an outline and looks more like a first draft.

So set a writing goal for yourself. Shoot for easy to start with, and then you can tweak the goal as you fall into the habit. Say, 200 words a day. Or 1000 words a week (because in all honesty you might miss a day here and there, and you shouldn’t get down on yourself for that, either). I personally shoot for 1000 words on days when I write, but I’ve been doing this for more than a decade now. I don’t always make it, but sometimes I double that, or quintuple it, or more. And I have scheduled days off (Supernatural nights when new episodes air, and usually the day after, and Monday night when I play pub trivia and it’s Mr. Mittens’ night off work). But outside of those days, barring extreme exhaustion or illness, I try to write at least 1000 words a night.

Being that I’m not an outliner, I feel I need to say that I always know the whole story before I start writing. It’s all up inside my head, running like a film that I “transcribe” into a fic. So even if I don’t have a written, bullet-pointed list of plot points and emotional beats, I do have the “finished product” looping through my head continuously until I transcribe it all. I know that’s not actually useful writing advice for most people, and I have no idea if this is how anyone else approaches writing, but it’s how it works for me. Minor details may only show up while I’m writing, but the whole story is already there.

This is why I never, ever post incomplete, wip fic. I am a compulsive editor, mostly because I don’t create detailed outlines before I start, and for the sake of continuity, editing is my friend. Can’t go back to insert a reference into chapter 3 that will become important by chapter 14 if you posted chapter 3 half a year ago, you know? Your readers are not gonna go back and reread your updates when you remember that Important Detail never actually made it onto the page in the exact way you needed it to way back when. :P

Now, an outliner MAY have picked that detail up and inserted it before they ever started writing, but one thing folks might not understand until they actually start writing: Actually writing the thing out, making it flesh and letting it breathe, will inherently change your two-dimensional outline. I’m not saying that your plot will derail itself, but only once you begin bringing the story to life, begin living on the page through the characters, will you begin to feel them as living beings, and can really begin to understand them and make them feel real to readers. No outline can do this, and will always fall short of feeling “good enough” for this reason.

(sorry, a lot of how I feel about writing sounds slightly unhinged when I try to talk about it, so please remember that the first original novel I wrote was based on a recurring nightmare I had after a psychotic break, which I literally wrote as therapy to banish the Bad Thoughts. Yes, it worked. Yes, that’s why I still write this way more than a decade later.)

But this is where you’ll begin to fill in the “gaps” inherent in any outline. Personality quirks, inside jokes between characters, feeling their feelings and translating that to the page. But also picking up all the dangling threads like repeating themes and emotional triggers.

I think I’ve gone way far off the path here…

Basically, pick one of your outlines. Decide you’re gonna start writing it. Then start writing it. It’s that simple, and that seemingly impossible. Write one sentence. Then write another. Then write lots more.

Good luck! I know it’s terrifying. I’m terrified every time I pick a new fic idea to write and stare at that blank document. But I stare it down, give a hearty pterodactyl screech, and dive bomb the keyboard. It’s really the only way to do it.

It’s worked pretty well for me so far. :P

[yesfortunatelysparklystude-blog1]

Explore these Christmas Decorating Tips

With another winter holiday just about to happen, it is time to start thinking about festive decorations to the home. This coming year it's time to look all the way, so discard those tattered bows and fake-looking garland and present the decorations a change. The house will appear considerably more festive and welcoming, that can impress everyone crossing the edge, obviously any good normally critical family member. Here are a few simple and inexpensive ways to deck the halls this christmas season. Subtle and arranged Equals Elegant. When shopping for holiday decorations, take a structured approach. Buying decorations piecemeal can make the home appear to be a garage sale. Come up with a theme or colors and buying decorations that qualify. As a result everything flow in one room to another, creating a consistent look that is popular with the eye area. Even though there is going to be lots of decorations no matter what theme or colors you choose, avoid going overboard or buying anything too flashy. Making the home look tasteful, not trashy, should be the goal. Leave the flashing signs for neighboring yards and judge outdoor decorations which are more refined. Purchase only enough indoor decorations make each room look festive. If guests seem like they are in Santa's workshop, you might have gone too much.

Let Fragrance Fill the Air. From balsam sprigs to cinnamon sticks, nature provides scented decor suitable for the property. Display these natural finds throughout the house. A vase of dried apple and orange slices coupled with cloves produces a festive table centerpiece when accented which has a holiday bow. Roast some walnuts in the fireplace to allow the appealing aroma waft at home. Utilize the natural bounty to the fullest extent because they gifts have the freedom and delightful. Candles are a different way to add fragrance on the home but some people fear their flames. A wickless candle warmer filled up with holiday scented wax is an ideal alternative. A low-wattage light bulb heats the wax, melting it in a safe temperature. The home will give an impression of a Christmas cottage, lush forest, or delicious holiday baked goods. Warmers appear in a number of styles, including holiday designs, to check the decor. Enhance Decorations with Food. Decorations will still only go so far for making people feel at home. Food is the best comfort, especially throughout the holidays. Have homemade holiday cookies, breads, and pies readily available for whomever may visit. Let children assist with baking and choose healthier versions of traditional recipes to cut back the guilt. This is a fun family project that teaches valuable skills and promotes bonding. Naturally, nothing tops a trip meal so plan the menu to include good luck holiday foods like turkey, roast beef, and ham. Italian holiday dinners are sweet treats so  embrace your culture and fill this holidays with pasta and seafood. Do remember  side dishes like yams, peas, spinach, stuffing, and your famous cranberry sauce.  End the meal with apple pie, pumpkin pie, pudding, as well as other mouth-watering desserts. For more information about vong nguyet que web site: read this.

[loving-lovely-lance]

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

this was supposed to be a collab with my pal @caseydambro​ on ao3, but due to unforeseen circumstances, my invitation got extended far past december. i didn’t want my writing and her art to be abandoned, so i decided to make this blog to post this (and possibly other oneshots in the future). i pounded this out in two days to make sure that it would be finished in time, so i’m sorry if there are any mistakes. anyways, i hope that you all enjoy this, and make sure to check out the art that casey made for it as well. merry christmas! :)

Lance’s eyes scanned across various alien-shop windows displaying intergalactic tech and trinkets. The exciting, new giddy joy that the unfamiliar once brought him seemed old and outdated now, as uninteresting as wearing outdated fashion. Nonetheless, he returned smiles to the salesmen who stood outside of their shops, just trying to earn their pay. Coran walked (well, walked was an understatement) not far in front of him, voicing his cheery knowledge on the alien items as he passed them, and Lance tried his best not to tune him out. His head bobbed as he took long strides behind the aging man. Despite his age, his legs carried him a ways farther that brought tall, lanky Lance to short, quick breaths as he tried his best to keep his pace. Something about Alteans having more stamina, or something. He’s sure that Coran has told him about it once or more. Coran suddenly stopped abruptly, and it took all of Lance’s restraint to not barrel into him at the change of pace.

“Here we are, my boy!” Coran announced, smiling nostalgically at the aging shop with crooked wood. Without another moment’s notice, the two wandered into the quaint little shop, and Lance’s mouth opened involuntarily as he took in the environment.

The walls were covered with a strange alien wood, a dark oak color with beautiful blue flowers sprouting from the creases of the splintering material. Vines hung around the ceiling like a crown, fairy lights twisting around the vines and dangling like icicles, a magnificent blue and gold glow enchanting the charming shop. A humanlike alien sat on a small bench behind a counter that matched the walls, waving at the entrance of the two before returning to their book.

Lance was overwhelmed with a sense of homeliness. The little shop was reminant of the bookstore that he always visited with his sister, the way her eyes lit up brighter than the twinkling lights as she was drawn in by the smell of books and coffee, tugging on his hand as she set off to each bookshelf- Lance swallowed down the lump in his throat. He couldn’t let himself get emotional in public.

Coran must have noticed his change in attitude, and suddenly placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. His aging eyes held much warmth, and Lance managed to pull himself together before he could let himself fall apart. Save his and Coran’s embarrassment. “Find something for yourself,” Coran said softly, and Lance nodded before shooting a grateful smile at his companion.

While Coran spoke to the owner of the shop about whether they still carried a book about “caring for the engine of a class A ship”, Lance found himself drawn to a collection of plants that were lined up on a table near the window. He recognized the the structure of some of the plants, familiarity striking him where it hurt him the most, and he restrained himself from getting emotional again as he placed each name in his brain.

Poinsettia. Hibiscus. Carnations, and-

He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t fight the smile on his face. Maybe the tradition of love was a universal concept. “Coran?”

Coran turned away from his conversation with the cashier. “Yes, my boy?” He spoke, void of any irritation. The cashier simply twirled a pen between slim, blue tinted fingers. Ah. It wasn’t a book, but rather a journal.

Lance waved him over. Coran held up a finger to the cashier as he followed Lance. Upon his approach, Lance picked up the small plant between his fingertips, holding it out for Coran to inspect. His mouth quirked up in the corner. He briefly wondered whether Coran would know the implications behind the small plant. “Is this mistletoe?”

Coran inspected it closely, seemingly searching for something. When he found whatever it was he was looking for, his eyebrows raised, and his confident smile was back. “Why yes, it is!” He cried.

Lance’s smile grew. He didn’t even hesitate, dropping it in the palm of Coran’s hand. “I want this.”

Coran quirked an eyebrow. Lance shrunk slightly. It was a weird request, thinking about it. “Are you sure this is all you want?”

“Positive.” Lance nodded, regathering his composure and smiling sweetly as he would to his mother when he wanted something. It must have worked, because Coran nodded, guiding the two of them back to the cash register.

“We’ll take the book and this mistletoe.”

-

Lance’s master plan was all set later that day, as he found Pidge typing away on her computer. She barely even heard him approaching her, and he silently thanked the heavens that she’s not easily scared or he could have had a small fist in his face. He planted his chin on top of her hair, scanning his eyes across the rows of code that she typed at an un-human speed.

“How’s it going, Pidge-Podge?”

She shifted her head to try to nudge him off, remaining silent as his chin only rolled over her head of hair. She must have brushed it, since it had more volume than usual. He knows how much she hates having frizzy hair. She simply sighed.

“Fine. What do you want, Lance?” She mumbled, fingers never stuttering as the rows of text kept multiplying. He nuzzled his nose in her hair affectionately, and that’s all it took for her to softly backhand the side of his face until he let up. He laughed, rubbing the side of his cheek with his hand.

“Can’t I just be here to support my lovely little Piglet?” He grinned, but she was definitely not amused. She held him in a death glare until his smile cracked. Her eyes returned to the laptop in front of her.

“That’s what I thought,” she snorted quietely, blowing the bangs out of her face. To no prevail, they simply fell back in front of her eyes, and she let out a low grumble. Lance frowned, and suddenly he found himself seated behind her again.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

As if from no where, Pidge handed him a hair tie, but he wasn’t going to settle with just a small, stubby ponytail. He pulled the bangs away from her face with his fingers, combing her hair back the way he used to with his sisters and his niece. She leaned into his touch, allowing him to weave strands of hair into a cute little French braid while she continued to type on her computer. He took extra care in securing her bangs into the braid, but little tufts of hair still poked out in sections of the braid. As he knew that it could bother her while she tried to work, he poked along the locks of hair until they hardly stuck out.

“Do you have any bobby pins, shortstack?”

She grimaced at the nickname. “Shortstack? That’s a new one,” she pushed away her laptop, stretching her arms above her head. Running her fingers over her new braid, she smiled in satisfaction. “And no, I don’t.”

Lance snickered at the cute, stubby braid that he made, and took his opportunity to make his advance.

“Hey Pidge?”

She answered without looking at him, popping her knuckles before pulling the laptop towards her again. “Yeah?”

He was suddenly dangling a mistletoe leaf over their heads, trying to fight back the mischievous smile on his face. “We’re under the mistletoe.”

She turned to him finally, blinking unresponsively. “I am not kissing you.”

His smile did not fall, and he wasn’t suddenly pouting like an actual child. “What? Why not?” His offense was poorly masked, and it was clear that she noticed.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Because that would be weird?”

“Yeah? Well you’re weird for not wanting a piece of this.” He decided finally, standing up and glaring down at Pidge. She actually looked utterly confused. After a moment, her eyebrows raised, and she suddenly looked extremely amused.

“Is this seriously why you came in here?” She mumbled, her face reading a mix of amusement and irritation.

Lance scoffed. He couldn’t deny it, but it was most definitely the reason why he visited her. Not that he would ever let her know that. He changed the subject. “Maybe Hunk will love me!”

He stormed off without another word, but he definitely didn’t miss Pidge’s scoff of indifference. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

-

He found Hunk where he had expected to find him: in the kitchen. The aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the air, and his sniff of delight surely didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, buddy,” he smiled as he planted himself on one of the stools in the kitchen. Hunk raised a mit-covered hand in response. The oven door shut, and Hunk turned around to greet his friend properly.

“Whatcha baking?” Lance asked, pointing a finger over Hunk’s shoulder as he washed his hands. Hunk glanced up at him, shooting him a small smile.

“Cookies. Ever since I found the replacement batter for those teeth-shattering teludav lense cookies, I’ve discovered new ingredients to create new, well, edible cookies. They taste more like the earth cookies we’re familiar with as well, which is really cool,” Hunk explained mindlessly, scrubbing at a pan in the sink. Lance put on his best puppy-dog eyes, and before he even had the chance to say anything, Hunk was already sighing. “Yes, you can have first taste.”

Lance cheered, and he didn’t miss Hunk’s small, fond smile at his outburst. He placed his head in his fist as Hunk set the timer, eyeing down the pan of freshly baked cookies that was left to cool on the counter. Hunk dropped a cookie in front of Lance, and Lance broke into a giant grin.

“Be careful, man, they’re hot.”

Completely ignoring Hunk’s warning, he immediately sunk his teeth in, opening his mouth and panting at the sudden burn on his tongue. The cookie fell back onto the plate as Lance took a large gulp of water to soothe the fire in his mouth. Hunk snickered. “Told you.”

Instead of waiting, he split the cookie in half, blowing on it and dropping into his mouth a little bit more cautiously this time. The chocolate (or whatever this blue substitute for chocolate was) melted onto his tongue, and he was delighted as he savored the flavor. He let out a noise that most definitely wasn’t appropriate for a cookie, but Hunk seemed pleased at his response.

“So they’re good?” He smiled.

Lance swallowed, taking another piece into his mouth. “Hunk, buddy, these aren’t just good. These are incredible.”

Hunk chuckled, but rolled his eyes. “What have we talked about? Eating with food in your mouth?” He mimicked the eyebrow raise of a scolding mother, and Lance stuck his tongue out at him.

Lance scarfed down the rest of his cookie, and then another, while Hunk monitored his next batch. Mouth full of chocolate, he seemed pleased, and he found the small plant in his jacket pocket. He stalked over to where Hunk was watching the cookies. Grinning, he spun Hunk around, holding the leaf over his head.

“Surprise! Mistletoe!”

Hunk’s eyes flashed from the mistletoe leaf in Lance’s hand to his face a couple of times, and Lance could tell that he was trying to swallow down his blush. “I’m not an expert on the whole bro-code thing, but isn’t this, y’know...against it?” Hunk laughed nervously.

Lance shook the mistletoe, smiling innocently at Hunk. “Come on, buddy!”

Hunk coughed into his fist, gently pushing away his friend. He refused to look at Lance’s devastated pout, instead seating himself on one of the high-top stools and watching the cookies rise from afar.

“Sorry, buddy. No-can-do. You’re my bro, I don’t want to do that to you.” Lance grumbled, but didn’t want to fight with his best friend. He pouted, knowing that Hunk wouldn’t take it seriously, and snatched up another cookie. Hunk spluttered random noises as Lance marched off with it. “Thanks for the cookies, anyways.”

The door shut behind him before Hunk could remind him to not get cookie crumbs everywhere.

-

He found Shiro and Allura in the lounge. The two were discussing plans for the coalition, and their heads both snapped to the door when Lance had walked in. Allura smiled sweetly at him, the type of smile she shared when she was busy but was too polite to say so. “Do you need something, Lance?”

Lance suddenly felt quite shy and insignificant. This was the fate of the future they were talking about, and he was here to ask for a kiss. It took everything in him to not walk out then and there. He steeled himself before nodding and walking towards the two.

“I’m actually here to ask for a kiss,” he announced as if it was something undeniably casual. Both Allura and Shiro’s eyes narrowed skeptically, and Lance took his opportunity to pull out the plant, hanging it in the air over where the two sat.

Allura was the first to respond. “Is that...mistletoe?” She mused, staring Lance in the eye as if what he was doing was some big joke. Which it was, he supposed.

“To be fair, I’m surprised that you and Coran actually know what it is, but uh...yeah, it is.” Lance laughed, and his face was surely red now. Allura snickered, and Shiro watched her out of the corner of his eye with his own amused smile.

“I’m sorry, Lance, but we’re kind of busy right now,” Allura spoke apologetically, and Lance tried to keep a steady voice as he spoke.

“So later then?” He grinned suggestively, and Allura’s huff of annoyance as her facade finally cracked brought just a little bit of familiarity and comfort to Lance.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” she laughed while rolling her eyes, shooing him off with her hand, and Shiro only nodded half-apologetically at him.

“What about you, Shiro?” He spoke hopefully. Truthfully, he would rather not have to kiss his leader, but he would damage his ego if he left without asking.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Lance. You can have a hug, though,” he stood to pull Lance into a hug, and the two could hear Allura giggling into her fist at the uncomfortable atmosphere. Laugh all you want, Allura.

He pulled away from Shiro’s embrace, trying not to grimace. He then left without another word, trying to shake off the nagging feeling of something seeming off in that exchange.

-

He had two contenders left, and he was definitely not avoiding one of them. Absolutely not. So what if his heart skips a beat whenever he enters the room, drenched in sweat from training, or how his laugh is like bells to Lance’s ears, or how his smile sets the bird in Lance’s heart fluttering wildly.

Okay, scratch that, maybe he WAS purposely avoiding him. But it’s not because he likes him. Definitely not. If anything, it’s because his utter existence is the bane of Lance’s. Stupid mullet.

Which is why when Lance found himself outside of Keith’s door, he hesitated, and pulled himself far away from the door that would burn to the touch to stop Lance’s thoughts from spiraling into chaos.

So instead, he heard the beeping of the video game contraption starting, and frowned when he realized that it was coming from his room. Clicking open the door, he found none other than Matt, sitting on the floor with a game controller in one hand, desperately trying to pull a blanket around himself with his other. Lance let himself all the way in, pulling the blanket more firmly around Matt’s shoulders, and Matt let out an unholy shriek when he realized that he wasn’t not alone. Something that Pidge and Matt don’t share in common. He flailed his controller, nearly striking Lance in the eye, and Lance was grateful that his reflexes were strong enough to escape the wrath of Matt by just a hair. When Matt calmed down from his frenzy, he frowned in embarrassment.

“Lance? What are you doing here?”

Lance snickered. “Uh, you’re in my room.”

Matt pursed his lips. “That’s fair.”

Matt silently invited Lance to play, patting the ground next to him, and Lance happily obliged. He plugged in the extra controller, leaning against the wall as Matt started the game. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, thinking of soft, black hair, which was why it was to no surprise that he lost the game in the first thirty seconds. He stared blankly at the screen, while Matt only frowned in confusion and slight disappointment.

“Everything okay?” Matt asked genuinely, frowning at his friend.

Lance cleared his throat, trying to bring a cheerful tone back into his voice. “Yeah, just a little spaced out. Let’s go again.”

The level restarted, and this time Lance put all of his energy into trying to focus on the screen in front of him. He felt that familiar rush of adrenaline, and then he was in hyper-focus. He listened for Matt’s cues, assisting him when he needed it, and in no time, the two finished the level. Both cheering, both sharing a high five. Lance felt anxiety crawling up his spine, so he found the plant in his pocket and held it up without further ado.

Matt frowned at the plant, waiting for an explanation.

Lance snorted. “C’mon, dude. You’ve gotta know what mistletoe is.”

Matt only laughed. “Sorry. I’m saving these lips for Allura. I’m not giving you my kiss virginity.”

Lance opened his mouth in clear amusement. He tried not to snicker. Hence ‘tried not to’. “‘Kiss virginity?’”

Matt gave Lance his most serious look. “Well what do you call it?”

Lance laughed and rolled his eyes. Matt was ridiculous. “I don’t know, first kiss? What, do you call it ‘sex virginity’ too?”

Matt put his finger under his chin in exaggerated thought. After a long moment, he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

The genius who made it into the Garrison with an above perfect GPA, everybody.

Matt suddenly stood, dragging his blanket behind him. “Well, I’m off to bed,” he announced, stretching his arms.

Lance’s eyes were drawn to the clock with their fabricated time system on the wall. “It’s only seven-thirty,” he mused.

Matt stopped mid-stretch to peek at Lance through one eye. “Really? Oh. Then I’m off to go bother Pidge,” he corrected himself, smiling at him before turning around, leaving Lance with the mess of a game system.

“That’s the spirit.” Lance laughed.

-

And then there was one.

-

Saying that Lance was nervous was an understatement. Why he was nervous was a story for another day, but as he was reminded that this was his last resort, he hesitated outside of the only barrier between him and his utter embarrassment.

Which is why after almost a full ten minutes, Lance’s fist was still a few centimeters from the door, and frankly, his arm was getting tired. This is ridiculous. He’s just another person, he’s not above Lance (as much as Lance sometimes believes he is).

Cursing under his breath, Lance finally bit the bullet and rapped his fist against the door. His heart shot into his throat as soon as he heard shifting from behind Keith’s door.

“Coming?” Keith called, but it came out closer to a question. Lance tapped on the pocket of his coat once. Twice. By his third tap, the door slid open, and Lance swallowed down his blush as he was suddenly mere inches away from him. Warm, violet eyes reflected the glow from the lantern on the wall. “Lance? Is everything okay?” He questioned, concern painting his face and increasing Lance’s heart rate. Lance couldn’t find it in himself to speak, so instead, he sucked in a breath and pulled out the plant. He dangled the mistletoe over the two of them, and Keith’s eyes held nothing but confusion. No irritation, no disgust.

Lance tried to pull together his bravado, but it was short lived and crumbled more with every word. “It’s mistletoe,” he pushed, but Keith only raised an eyebrow.

“You know. It’s Christmas tradition to kiss under the mistletoe. Not that’s it’s Christmas, yet, and I don’t even know if we’re going to celebrate considering we’re in space, but-“

Keith cut Lance off, pressing a finger to his lips. Lance felt his heart stop once again. “-you want me to kiss you?” Keith asked softly, searching his face, his eyes, anything to give him an answer. Yes, he did.

Lance felt his face flush. “I mean, ‘want’ is an overstatement,” he tried to backpedal. His confidence melted into a puddle on the floor long ago, and he would surely be joining it if he kept up this pace. But Keith was patient, way more patient than he deserved, and he wondered for a split second if he should have just come out and told him the truth.

Keith snorted. And it was cute.

“Whatever you say, Lance.”

Without further warning, Keith’s lips were pressed against the flesh of his cheek, and Lance’s blush was back in full force. Lance felt his face flush and his stomach sink, the type you feel when you’re dropping on a rollercoaster. Exhilarating, but slightly terrifying. He felt Keith giggle against his cheek, before pulling back with a rosey face of his own. Lance dropped his mouth dumbly, physically restraining himself from bringing his hand up to his cheek which was currently on fire for more reasons than one.

Keith smiled at him sweetly, satisfied with his reaction, and then the door was being closed. Lance didn’t even notice as the mistletoe fell out of his hand and onto the ground.

Too many thoughts were swirling around Lance, too many to swallow.

His cheek was buzzing from the touch, and his mind was buzzing with the thought ‘oh god, you missed’.

And with that, he knew that he was totally and completely screwed.

This boy would be the death of him.

-

Lance watched curiously as the two Alteans scrambled around to find bins full of decorations, announcing to Lance that they had something to show him. The other Paladins had gathered at the commotion, and Shiro and Hunk were currently helping lift the different bins that most likely outweighed the older man trying to carry them. Pidge had even taken a break from her own tasks to Lance’s request, and the bags under her eyes suggested that she needed it more than she was letting on.

Coran let out a triumphant ‘ah ha!’, to which Lance had hurried over to see what Coran had been so excited to show him. If his widespread grin was anything to go by, he was hoping it was good.

“Don’t overwork yourself, Coran,” Lance said softly, touched at the thought that all of this effort was being put forth for him specifically.

“None of that. Now look inside!” Coran smiled cheerfully, and Lance cracked open the bin. A puff of dust emerged at the exposure, Lance coughed into his fist, before turning his attention back to what looked like a...tree? He cleared some more of the dust before-

“Coran, is this a Christmas tree?” He said with childlike wonder, a giddy joy overwhelming him.

“That it is, Number 3! Although we refer to it as a ‘Talyeugian tree’. After I bought you that mistletoe the other day, I thought that some more ‘Christmas’ decorations might be to your liking. It is officially ‘December’, as you call it, after all.”

“It has been over ten thousand years since we’ve had an official Talyeugian celebration, so why don’t we start up again now?” Allura said nostalgically, smiling with the same joy that Lance felt at the aged tree.

“Yeah. That...that sounds really great.” Lance said, feeling a new warmth in his chest.

“Perfect. Hunk and Shiro, you can begin setup on the tree with me,” the two nodded, carrying the tree over to a barren corner in the lounge. They may have dropped the tree a bit too abruptly, but if they did, Coran didn’t say anything. 

“Princess, you and Number 5 can help hang ornaments.”

Pidge huffed. “I hate that nickname,” she muttered, but Allura’s excitement pulled the scowl off of her face as soon as it was on it.

“Keith and Lance, you guys can begin hanging the Talyeugian lights. There’s a bin over there,” Coran pointed to a large green bin, overstuffed with a variety of different twinkling lights. Lance risked a glance at Keith, and then the two set off to begin their task.

While they have spoken since the cheek kiss a couple of days ago, they haven’t brought it up. But to be fair, why would they need to? There was nothing in need of being talked about. So maybe the atmosphere was a little more awkward. Neither of them felt the need to acknowledge it, it wasn’t a big enough deal.

Maybe Keith pretended that Lance hadn’t sat closer to him on a couch meant for five people.

Maybe Lance pretended that Keith’s glares weren’t as venomous and were longer lasting than usual.

Because everything was fine between them, and there was nothing unusual.

But it was like the tension in the air grew thicker as they were not in the presence of others, just out of reach. Neither wanted to break the silence, silently afraid that they would somehow ruin the moment that they didn’t even intend to create.

But someone had to speak, and Lance knew it would be him first.

“Where should we start?” He asked quietly so that only Keith could hear. Keith finally met his gaze, and was his face rosier than usual?

“Wherever’s fine,” he mumbled, and if he seemed more closed off than usual, Lance didn’t notice.

“Here,” he dropped a cord of fairy lights around Keith’s neck like a necklace, flicking on a switch that read ‘on’, since apparently Alteans are too advanced for power sockets. The glow from the crystal blue lights shone Keith’s violet eyes a delicious indigo, the smaller boy’s eyes flickering dazedly between the lights and the Paladin in front of him. Lance couldn’t help it. He smiled sweetly at him. His smile was surely much too warm for someone who he supposedly hated, but after a moment, Keith’s smile was just as warm, and that made his insides fill with warmth as well.

Lance felt that warmth crawl up his neck, and his hand instinctively crawled up to stop it, as if that could prevent it. He had to tease Keith to save his sanity.

“Are you sure that you’ll be able to hang these without a ladder? You’re almost as short as Pidge is.”

Keith’s smile fell, quickly replaced with a scowl. “I’m not that short.”

“Sure.”

Lance led the two into the hallway, and if Keith shrunk in on himself while out of Lance’s sight, he didn’t say anything. Then Lance was struck with a predicament, and his eyes widened comically as he came to this conclusion.

“Realized that even you’re too short to hang these lights without a ladder?” Keith snorted into his gloved palm.

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. Maybe so, but there’s no way that he would tell him that. Keith clearly saw through his attempt at brushing it off though, and he giggled. He actually giggled into his palm as Lance glared daggers into the lights.

“What’s your amazing plan now, genius?” Keith spoke between laughs.

Lance huffed, switching his glare to the boy in front of him. Keith’s laughs stopped immediately.

“I have an idea,” he mumbled. “Do you trust me?” He asked, and Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged, but he looked skeptical.

Lance suddenly wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, lifting him as high as he possibly could. Keith tensed noticeably, but he didn’t seem to protest. “What are you doing?”

Lance shifted his grip on Keith, his face flushing when his cold fingers met contact with Keith’s warm middle under his lifted shirt, and Keith shivered in his grip. “The lights are self-adhesive. If you can reach the ceiling, then I can carry you and you can stick them to the crown of the ceiling.”

Keith seemed to understand this, and he stretched his arms up to test his reach, pleased when they just barely reached. “Okay, start walking,” he ordered, and Lance followed.

Keith easily put up the lights, and Lance, well, Lance had a rather magnificent view. He knew he was blushing, but he blamed it purely on the strenuous effort he was putting in to keep Keith mid-air.

“Getting tired down there?” Keith questioned, hearing Lance’s strained attempts to hold down his grunts and groans from holding him.

“I’m just peachy down here. How close are you?” He said with a little effort.

“Mm, maybe two feet?”

This was music to Lance’s ears. Though he didn’t want to admit it, his arms were getting tired from holding him. He’d better have abs of steel after this.

A couple more moments passed by, and Lance’s arms were going numb from his blood flow being restricted. “I’m done with this side,” Keith announced, and Lance didn’t hesitate to place him down on the floor again. Lance shook his arms out and admired their handiwork. Well, Keith’s handiwork. Keith returned to the bin of string lights, and moments later, they were back in their previous positions.

Involved with the task at hand, the two didn’t even notice Pidge coming in to check on them, whistling (or as close as ‘whistling’ could get for Pidge. It was closer to blowing air through her teeth) “My Heart Will Go On” at the sight in front of her. Lance immediately dropped Keith, startled at Pidge’s interruption, and Keith groaned from the ground. Keith seemed irritated at Lance’s outburst and glared at him. Lance was going to kill that little gremlin. She was gone as soon as she appeared, faint laughter heard from the other room, and Lance frowned apologetically at the sight of Keith rubbing at his hip on the ground.

“Thanks for that,” Keith grumbled, and Lance offered a hand out for Keith.

“Sorry about that. I’m going to kill her.

Keith snorted, outburst forgotten. “I’ll contribute.”

-

After finishing up in the hallway, the two Paladins wandered back into the lounge, only to discover-

“You guys have already finished with the tree?” Lance questioned, a combination of surprised and impressed.

Hunk smiled, gesturing to the fairy lights that framed the room. They accomplished their job a lot faster than Lance and Keith had. They also had six people to help decorate, though. Matt had also joined the living at some point, to Lance’s knowledge.

“It looks great, guys,” Keith spoke genuinely, and it was always a treat to witness the rare, openly friendly Keith.

Lance arranged his fingers in an ‘L’ shape under his chin. “Looks like all that’s missing is the star on the tree,” he spoke nonchalantly, but no one missed his poorly hidden grin.

Pidge glared at him. “Lance, this tree was a pain to put up. If you jump at the tree and call yourself the ‘star’, I will personally evict you into the lonesome of space myself.”

“Too late!” He announced, and all of his friends jumped in front of the tree to attempt to protect it. What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t aiming for the tree.

He charged at Pidge, and her eyes widened for a split second before he was scooping her up by her ankles and placing her on his shoulders. Her entire body tensed, grabbing onto every piece of him that she could reach to prevent herself from falling.

“Lance? What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!” She shouted, surely glaring into his hair.

“Keith, help me out,” he sent a knowing look to him, and Keith simply raised his eyebrows, unsure.

“The star, man,” he mouthed. Keith’s mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, and upon his discovery of the star, his face contorted into amused confusion before nearly breaking into laughter.

Lance didn’t have time to wonder what was happening before Keith slapped the tree topper in his hand. Lance nearly dropped Pidge in his outburst of laughter. 

“Coran, is...is this you?” Tears nearly formed in his eyes at his laughter, and he was sure that Pidge could feel him shaking from his grip on her ankles.

Coran simply smiled at him, a confirmation if nothing else, and then Lance was passing the ‘star’ up to where Pidge still had a death-grip on Lance’s hair.

“Come on, Pidgey-Widge,” he cooed, and her tug on his hair resulting in a ‘ow’ told him she wasn’t impressed.

Nonetheless, she placed the ‘star’ on top of the tree, if not to shorten her stay in the air, and the orange glow from the mosaic mustache shone light across the room, causing everyone to let out a victorious cheer. It was a good family effort, after all.

-

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when Lance suggested a sleepover the next night, void of the valid question (“We literally live next door to each other, Lance.”), and it definitely wasn’t a surprise when Lance was the first to settle into the living room. Allura followed suit, in a pair of long sleeved, silk pajamas with tiny crowns all over them. She was shuffling an impressive amount of pillows and blankets, and Lance was quick to help her lug in as many comfort items that they could find in the castle.

“Shiro’s very hesitant to join us, you know,” Allura voiced, throwing another pile of blankets onto the ground to create a big, fluffy pillow seat. “He’s really worried that we’re going to be attacked and we won’t be prepared.”

Lance huffed as he, too, threw a pile of blankets onto the ground, jumping on top of his pile. Even though the pile seemed thorough enough, he easily sank to the hard ground, and the air was knocked out of his lungs as he groaned into the fabric. Allura’s giggles could be heard from outside of his pillow cocoon, and they only intensified as he struggled to emerge from it. Instead, he popped his head up after his floundering-fish attempt at escaping. “We’ll be fine. Tell him that if he doesn’t attend my super amazing fantastic Christmas spectacular party, then he’ll be sorry.”

Allura snickered. “Sure, Jan.”

Lance’s eyes widened comically as he snickered. “Picking up on earth slang, are we?”

Allura grinned. “Matt’s been telling me much about your ‘memes’.”

Lance laughed loudly. It was like when your parents try to understand teen culture. It’s absolutely hilarious, but kind of excruciating at the same time. He loves Allura though, so he let it slide.

Matt, ironically, was the next to join them. “Telling Lance about our learning sessions, eh, ‘Llura?” he mused out loud, obviously proud of Allura for taking such an interest in such painful jokes.

Allura grinned brightly at their new member. “Earth culture is so fascinating, I always love to learn about it.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, because memes are ‘Earth culture’. The only aspect of Earth that really matters, really.”

“Definitely,” Matt spoke in all seriousness.

At Matt’s approach, Lance playfully sent a death glare in his general direction, watching him like a hawk as he settled on the pillow beanbag on the other side of Allura. Matt definitely noticed, winking at him, and Lance stuck his tongue out at him.

A couple of minutes later, Hunk came in, bearing a tray full of cookies and goodies for them to snack on, complaining about burning some of the popcorn. (“It’s truly alright, Hunk. The burned pieces will only enhance the flavor!” Allura spoke cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the cringes from the other three Paladins.) Nearly ten minutes later, all of the Paladins, including Allura, Matt and Coran, were squished together on the sofa and the makeshift bean bags in front of them. Pidge and Hunk squished together in the left corner of the couch with Pidge practically sitting on the arm of the sofa, Coran taking over two beanbags in front of them. Allura and Matt sat shoulder to shoulder on Lance’s left, and Lance restrained from making gagging noises every time Matt attempted a cheesy, romantic advance on her. Shiro, well, Shiro sat on the floor by Coran. If Coran had chosen to move he could have had a seat, but Coran seemed insistent on lying down. Horizontally.

That left Lance and Keith.

Lance had claimed the far right corner of the couch, his favorite spot, and he definitely didn’t miss Keith’s ‘I-want-to-be-included-but-I-don’t-want-to-intrude-or-feel-like-I’m-being-a-bother’ face. He silently invited him to the spot in front of him, the last beanbag, and Keith shyly planted himself right in front of him. He curled his knees in to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, and Lance knew that he felt unincluded.

“Let me know if you’re feeling left out, okay? We all want you here with us,” Lance whispered under his breath to Keith, and he saw his head bob slightly in silent acknowledgment.

“We are not watching Elf,” Lance heard Pidge muse from the opposite side of the couch. Lance frowned, leaning far forward, probably into Keith’s personal space, to respond to her.

“What? Why not?” He mumbled. Pidge simply raised her eyebrows, laughing the fakest laugh Lance had ever heard from her.

“Why not? Because it’s Matt’s favorite movie. And he makes us watch it. Every. Damn. Christmas,” she exclaimed through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at him.

“Elf is a cinematic masterpiece and you know it!” Matt fired back, and Lance was having trouble determining whether the irritation on his face was real or simply an act. From the way that his fist was clenched across Allura’s shoulder, he was assuming it was real.

“I’ll eject you out of the castle in your sleep if you even think about playing that cursed movie,” Pidge mumbled, and Hunk looked extremely uncomfortable at the exchange. Lance couldn’t blame him.

“Alright, settle down you two. Why don’t we let Lance pick? This is his sleepover, after all,” Shiro butted in, trying to prevent the two bickering siblings from actually killing each other.

Nobody missed Pidge’s dramatic groan. “Lance, please don’t play a rom-com. I think I’ll actually combust if you do.”

Lance leaned far over the three bodies in the way and flicked Pidge on the nose, reveling in the way that her hands shot up in defense and her frown intensified. “So I have the power, huh?” He smiled, and it was no surprise that all of the heads in the room turned to stare at him. He was known for having an awful taste in movies.

“Lance please. I’m begging you. Anything but those awful Hallmark Christmas specials,” she begged, and Lance took pity on her this time.

“How about... you’re a mean one, Mister Grinch,” Lance began singing the all too familiar song, and Pidge certainly released a sigh of relief. Allura and Coran looked confused for a good reason, but Keith’s frown suggested that maybe he wasn’t too familiar with the movie decision as well.

“You’ve never watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas?” Lance gawked at him, and Keith simply shook his head with a small frown. Lance puffed out his chest, watching as Pidge somehow managed to conjure up the earth movie on her laptop before hooking it up to the Altean tech.

“Well that’s going to change today.”

Hunk passed around plates of cookies, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in his chest as his friends, his newly found family, all sitting together, smiling and laughing. Enjoying each other’s company. Pidge leaned against Hunk, using him as a pillow, and Lance nearly laughed as Matt attempted to do the same with Allura, earning a backhanded smack and a frown of disapproval. As the movie began to play, the snickers calmed down, and the lights were turned off to enjoy the movie in its full glory.

Having seen the movie multiple times before, Lance found himself becoming fidgety. While the others seemed involved and sucked into the movie, his eyes darted from body to body. Before he knew it, he found himself bouncing his leg, and he knew that unless he could control it, he would irritate the bodies around him. It always happened at the worst times. Lance wasn’t really the best company for movie nights, never able to sit completely still and pay attention.

With Keith’s eyes glued to the screen, his eyelids fluttering shut lethargically every once in a while, Lance let his hands rest on top of Keith’s head, running them through his hair like a comb. If the atmosphere was more tense, he would likely have felt more embarrassed about the action, but he was in such a calm state that he couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered.

Keith tentatively leaned his head back, giving Lance full view of his eyes. They were wider than usual, but not in a scared way. More of a curious way than anything. Like a confused puppy.

“Is this okay?” Lance mouthed to him, doing all in his power to not disturb any of the others. That would lead to a rather awkward conversation for sure. Keith nodded sheepishly, leaning further into the couch - Lance’s legs, more specifically - behind him. As he turned his attention back to the movie, Lance continued combing through soft, black tufts of hair, smiling to himself when Keith continued to curve his head into his hands.

It was nice to see Keith like this, with his guard down. The same Keith who held his dagger as his most prized possession was on the brink of falling asleep, something out of his usual attire. He was relaxed, and his body grew heavier by the minute. Anything that Lance could do to help him relax was a success in Lance’s book.

Speaking of relax-

Keith’s movements became more and more exaggerated, the result of his control over his body slipping with exhaustion. Before the movie was even halfway through, Keith’s eyes slipped closed, and he fell into slumber. Lance continued to run his fingers through his hair, supposing that the relaxing gesture helped him fall asleep in the first place. He didn’t mind doing it, either. Lance spotted Allura out of the corner of his eye, noticing her soft smile at the action. He felt his heart rate spike at being noticed, but she simply shook her head softly, her smile never faltering.

“He never sleeps, you know,” she told him quietly, trying not to disturb anyone.

Lance sighed softly, returning his attention to the peaceful boy in front of him. “I know.”

Could Allura tell?

Could she tell the way his lips turned up in the corners as he tried to surpress his smile as he ran his fingers through Keith’s hair?

Could she tell that he felt his heart flutter whenever he’d subconsciously lean into his touch?

Could she tell that he had fallen deep?

A part of Lance was screaming that she shouldn’t, that he can’t allow her.

But maybe allowing Allura in to see this new part of Lance, this part of him that he unknowingly, maybe even unwillingly gave to Keith, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe she understood that this whole time, he’s been chasing after the wrong one.

He was a wolf chasing after prey that could never be caught.

Allura was always just out of his reach. A hare with an extra spring in its steps.

He would chase after her for a lifetime, but the hare would always exceed him. His attempts were in vain.

But maybe he was being chased as well. Another wolf, with stronger legs, bounding after him. A wolf who didn’t belong to a pack. A wolf desperate for love, for belonging, who was a shadow chasing after sunlight. Maybe Lance didn’t mind it.

And maybe, just maybe, he would allow himself to stop running, and just be caught.

-

Matt was the first to talk after the credits began to roll. “Elf’s better,” he mumbled, yawning tiredly into cold hands. Pidge groaned. He stood, nearly tripping over Coran, who was currently fast asleep on the floor.

Lance noticed Shiro, still sitting on the outside of the couch, staring at Keith with tired, aging eyes. Lance met his gaze with a hesitant smile.

“Should we leave him?” Shiro asked, gesturing to the sleeping Keith for the rest of the group.

Lance shook his head. “I’ll take him back to his room so he can get some sleep,” he explained, crawling over the side of the sofa to pick up the sleeping boy.

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Hunk questioned, offering his help. He watched as Lance scooped him up in his arms. Readjusting his grip, he simply nodded.

“Don’t worry about it. You guys can choose the next movie. I’ll be out in a bit,” he explained before leaving the lounge. Keith hardly stirred, and Lance was surprised that he had stayed asleep for this long.

Letting his legs carry him to Keith’s room, Lance simply watched him. He looked younger, more innocent, when he was asleep. He didn’t look like he had fought in a war. He didn’t look like he continues to fight in a war. Save for the six inch scar that racked across his right collarbone, exposed from the wide neck of the shirt, he looked like any other teenage boy.

Lance knew that he’d been through a lot, and it showed on his face whenever he closed himself off, crossed arms over a hunched chest.

He stirred slightly, mumbling random, incoherent noises. His eyes fluttered open slowly, staring tiredly at the boy carrying him.

Maybe if he weren’t so tired, he would have jumped out of his arms, or cursed at him. He would have called his names, anything to save his pride.

But sleepy Keith was wired differently than regular Keith, and he seemed content to just be carried. “We’re almost there, buddy.”

He turned his face into Lance’s shirt to shelter himself from the dropping temperature of the castle, and Lance smiled to himself as he buried his nose in his nightshirt. How adorable.

Lance activated the door to his room, carefully stepping in and avoiding anything that he could trip on, which was...nothing? His room seemed as empty as it was when they first claimed their rooms in the inhabited castle. He briefly recalled his conversation with Keith about leaving the team, and how empty it was then, too. Placing him on his bed gently, he pulled the covers over him. He looked peaceful. He took one last fleeting glance at the boy and began walking towards the door when-

“Lance?” Keith’s muffled question came. Lance turned over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

Keith’s response was delayed, and Lance nearly just marked it off as sleep talking. “Stay?” His voice was small and muffled, and Lance felt his heart skip.

Was Keith sleep talking, or was he rationally asking for Lance to stay with him? The better part of his brain told him to leave and never return, but his heart was urging him differently.

“Okay, buddy.”

Against his better judgement, he slowly approached the bed, pausing in front of it for any sign of hesitation from Keith. When Keith anticipated his presence, he pulled back the covers, sliding into the bed next to Keith. Keith’s eyes fluttered open, and he seemed embarrassed to say the least.

“Sorry, I slept better when you were rubbing my head earlier,” he mumbled as if he had to explain himself. Lance smiled, reaching a hand out to comb his hair out of his face.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t mind,” Lance explained, smiling at the way that Keith seemed to relax at his touch.

“M’kay.”

After a few more minutes of combing his hair, Keith’s breaths evened out, and he was asleep again.

Which left Lance to watch the sleeping boy take even breaths, wondering when he let himself fall so deeply for this boy.

Lance didn’t sleep as well as Keith did that night.

-

Lance has woken up to a lot of strange scenarios in the past. Living in a household full of boisterous kids led to a lot of bed-bouncing and early mornings of ‘get-out-of-bed-before-I-get-the-bucket-of-water’ occurred quite often. Lance clearly remembered the time where he woke to the electrician hovering over his bed. Lance, for a good reason, screamed, and it took his mom and two of his siblings to get through to him that he was simply trying to fix the broken light above his bed, and wasn’t, in fact, some psychopath. That was definitely an uncomfortable situation.

What wasn’t an uncomfortable situation was waking next to a warm body, arms wrapped around his torso just as he did to the other.

Opening his eyes only to reveal that said-body was staring unashamedly at him was definitely a bit uncomfortable, however.

As soon as blue was on violet, Keith corrected himself, recoiling on himself with pursed lips and guilty eyes.

“Morning,” Lance hummed, proud of himself for keeping a steady voice this soon after waking up. Keith cleared his throat, avoiding Lance’s eyes.

“Yeah, morning,” he mumbled sheepishly, wrapping his arms around himself, likely to warm himself. Lance frowned, reaching out to carefully grab one of Keith’s arms. Keith’s eyes finally met Lance’s, and Lance could tell that he was embarrassed. Placing Keith’s hand back on his hip, back to where it was, he urged Keith to relax again.

“I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said softly, fighting back a yawn. It was a losing battle however, and he hummed into his yawn, unaware of the way that Keith was curiously gazing at him with an almost guilty face.

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever slept,” Keith stated, sheepish and lethargic.

If having Lance sleep next to him was all that it took to help him get some sleep, then Lance would happily make that a part of his routine.

He smiled, surely way too soft for who it was directed at. “I’m glad I could help.”

The seconds ticked by as the two lay in bed. Keith was a well-known morning person and Lance knew that, which was why he was so curious as to why Keith was still laying with him. While Lance was more than content to lay with him all day, he was aware that that wasn’t the most productive option.

“We should probably go see the others. I kind of bonked out when you did, they probably want to know why I didn’t come back.”

Keith snickered at Lance’s choice of words, before nodding and sitting up fully. Stretching his arms, Lance couldn’t fight the urge to stare at the bare skin that peeked out from underneath his night-shirt, swallowing harshly. It was only when Keith cleared his throat with a faint blush and a raised eyebrow that Lance broke his stare. Lance timidly directed his gaze to anywhere but Keith. Stupid, pretty Keith.

His hair was wild, sticking out in every direction, and yet it only made Keith prettier. God, could this boy ever be anything but pretty? He was starting to believe that it was impossible.

“Go see the others. I’ll come in a few so it’s not as...obvious,” He said softly, waiting for a response, and Keith was quick to follow. He neared the door. A pause.

“Lance?” He hummed, keeping his attention on the door in front of him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, but it was genuine, and that made Lance’s heart soar. Lance couldn’t help it. He smiled. Maybe he’d one day let Keith see it, see the way that he affected him, but for now, he was content for keeping that a secret for himself.

“Anytime, Keith.”

-

Nobody questioned their late appearances, but Lance definitely didn’t miss Pidge’s pointed snickers or Allura’s fond smile as the two emerged an hour later than they usually would.

-

Waking up next to Keith became a normalized part of their routine. Keith still distanced himself as he fell asleep, but subconsciously, he would almost always wake up half on top of Lance, or with his arms wrapped around him in a death-grip. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Keith was definitely a cuddler, and that was extremely endearing to Lance. He would gladly cuddle Keith for the rest of time if he would be allowed to.

The days passed as usual. No calls from the Blade, no emergency signals for the Paladins. It was almost like a true Christmas break for them, and they all definitely appreciated the break.

But nothing good ever lasts for very long, and one night after Lance had snuck into Keith’s bedroom out of the eyes of others, a shrill ringing came from Keith’s pocket. Lance’s head shot up at the commotion, interrupting his task of pulling down the covers on Keith’s bed. The poor boy’s eyes were saucers, and he looked distressed.

“Keith? What’s wr-“

“I have to go,” Keith interrupted, and Lance hated how stiff his posture suddenly became, setting his jaw and steeling his eyes.

“Are you getting called on a mission?” He already knew the answer. “I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, searching through his near-empty dresser for his Blade outfit. Keith couldn’t even care that he was stripping in front of Lance, desperate to tune everything out and set himself back into the fight-mode that he was so unnervingly used to.

“Keith-? Keith?” Lance questioned, but Keith was too involved with fighting with the hood of his Blade outfit to notice. “Keith- Keith!” Lance shouted, distracting Keith out of his frenzy.

Keith looked helpless. He looked determined. If Lance searched hard enough, he could even say that he looked scared. He had a good reason to be. He wanted to tell him everything that was floating around in his head, stirring up his thoughts like a fan blowing around a stack of paper. He could never organize them, they were gone as soon as they came. He could never put a name to all of the emotions that Keith Kogane made him feel. Not in the moments that were counting down with the shrill alarm still going off in Keith’s glove. He had to say something to him before he left. But what could he say?

Keith pleaded with him through a glance. There’s no time.

Lance sucked in a breath, letting all of his emotions and heartache out as he exhaled. “Stay safe.”

Keith searched his eyes for exactly three seconds. The first was terrifying. The second was exhilarating. The third was a goodbye.

“I will.”

Lance was alone again, the only sound louder than the ringing in his head being the fading sound of the alarm as the footsteps sprinted closer and closer to an open grave.

-

He was pacing and he knew it. Keith had been called on missions before this, hell, it felt like he was never not on a mission, but none of the previous have ever given him the anxiety that he felt this time. Something in the back of his head was telling him that something would go wrong, begging him to do something to prevent said thing from happening. But he was helpless. Nothing he could do could change the order of the universe, he could never be the knight and shining armor that he wanted to be. He could never be anything but useless.

No. Now was not the time for those thoughts.

How long had it been since he left? An hour? It felt like longer. His head snapped to the ticking clock on the wall, the clock that would drive him to insanity.

It’s only been two hours.

Anything could have happened in those two hours, and his anxiety constantly reminded him of this.

In his distraught state, he nearly didn’t hear Allura’s soft knocking on the door. Letting herself in, she sighed. She sounded so tired. Maybe she was just as worried as he was.

“I thought I might find you in here,” she spoke with a newfound softness. Meeting her eyes, she took in Lance’s face, his body posture, the redness of his eyes. She didn’t look nearly as awful, but she definitely looked tired.

“I feel so helpless, Allura,” he whispered, and even he was surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. He wasn’t even aware that he had been crying. Allura frowned empathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him over to Keith’s bed. His and Keith’s bed, his brain provided. His tears nearly spilled over again.

“I know how you feel, Lance,” she began, rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulder. She wasn’t great at the whole comforting thing, but he appreciated her for trying. “That’s how I used to feel when I still piloted the castle. I couldn’t help but feel like something would go wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to-“ she cut herself off, pressing a fist to her mouth. She was trying to pull herself together for Lance’s sake. After a long moment, she released a slow breath, wiping away the tears that gathered in her eyes.

“-be able to do something to help,” she continued, her voice shaking nearly imperceptibly. “But sometimes...there’s nothing you can do. And sometimes, you just have to be able to accept that fact and let fate play out.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to him,” he said, completely ignoring Allura’s speech, but she only frowned again. Her hand fell from his shoulder to his back, rubbing soothing circles into his shirt. It reminded him of his mom, how amazing she was at comforting him and getting him to smile.

He was now sad for more reasons than one.

“I don’t either,” she spoke comfortingly. “But you know Keith. He’s strong and stubborn and he has thick skin. He’s survived a lot. He’s stronger than you know.”

Lance scowled. “But his stubbornness leads him into making stupid decisions. He nearly killed himself to save us, Allura. He’s so damn selfish. What would we have done without him? What would I have done without him? Does he know that his recklessness is going to kill him one day?” Lance broke, not even trying to fight off the fresh wave of tears. His cries became more and more broken and cracked, and Allura watched as he helplessly tried to pull himself together. He pressed the bases of his palms into his eyes as he processed his words. Does he know that his recklessness is going to kill him one day?

“I think,” he began, trying to will the words to form in his mouth. Let her know. “I think I love him, Allura. And I’m so, so worried about him. I don’t want to lose him,” he spoke through numb lips, ignoring the way that his entire body seemed to burn at his confession. Allura was silent next to him, and his mind was an endless array of ‘you messed up’.

“Maybe you should tell him,” she said after a moment of silence. She smiled apologetically at him, and then she was gone. Allura’s voice was the only thing that outlasted the endless ringing in Lance’s head.

Maybe he should.

-

Lance realized that Keith Kogane wasn’t as selfish as he once thought. Quite the opposite, actually. He was a fighter. He was empathetic, and brave, and willing. He was selfless.

That selflessness brought an ache to Lance’s heart.

Lance didn’t know when this new anxiety crawled into him. He didn’t know when he became more concerned about Keith’s well being than his own. He didn’t know when he fell in love with him.

But he came to all of these realizations as he watched the ticking clock, praying that he would just come home.

-

After what felt like an eternity, Lance felt the familiar purring in his head. A buzz of excitement ran through his veins as he tried to interpret what she was telling him.

“What is it, Red?” He whispered, pleading for Keith’s safety. A wave of comfort engulfed him as he remembered that if Keith really were in danger, then Red would have likely bolted out of the castle by now. Or maybe that comfort was just Red soothing him. Either way he didn’t mind. A pause.

Open the door. He’s back.

His heart skipped a beat, and he was charging for the door as quickly as his legs would carry him. A tired, shadowy figure came closer and closer into perspective. If Lance’s heart weren’t pounding so fast with adrenaline and hope, then he most likely would have assumed him an enemy.

But when the hood fell down, revealing a tired but very much alive Keith, Lance suddenly couldn’t speak. Their eyes met, both paladin’s holding in too many emotions to possibly let out. Lance opened his arms, and Keith couldn’t resist. He was suddenly barreling into him.

Lance was probably holding Keith too tightly, but he didn’t care. Keith was probably enjoying the warmth too much, but he didn’t care. Lance pulled away only far enough to place his thumbs on the apples of Keith’s cheeks, unexplainably overjoyed that he got to see those beautiful, violet eyes again. Keith let out a shuddering breath.

“I was so worried about you,” Lance began, breathless and on the verge of tears. He seemed like he was overreacting, and maybe he was, but in this moment he didn’t care. “I had this nagging feeling that something would happen to you and oh my god I’m so glad you’re safe.” He spoke breathlessly, and Keith laughed softly, but Lance could tell from the tattered material on his back that this was not an easy fight for him.

“Lance,” he mumbled, and Lance’s eyes were drawn to his like a moth to a flame. Keith looked like he wanted to say something, desperate to give an explanation or another empty apology, but then his eyes flickered to Lance’s lips, desperate for something else. Lance’s heart sprung in his chest.

And then they were kissing.

It began off desperate and rough, like Lance was Keith’s oxygen and he could never get enough to fill his lungs. Lance could feel Keith pouring out all of the emotions that he could never speak aloud into the kiss, and Lance felt a couple of tears stream down his cheeks as he put names to them, matching them with his own. Desire. Relief. Hopefulness. Love.

It eventually slowed down into something more intimate, more meaningful. Sadness. Uncertainty. Fear. Desperate kisses became slow declarations of love, and Lance discovered that Keith held more emotions than he could have ever realized. This was everything that he could have ever wanted. Keith was everything that he could have ever wanted.

Lance let Keith break the kiss first, willing to provide as much comfort as he needed, gently pressing their foreheads together. They were both gasping for breath, breathing the same air, and that alone was enough to send Lance’s brain spinning. 

When Keith’s eyes flickered up to Lance’s his face contorted with guilt. “Why are you crying?” He asked softly, worried that he caused those tears. Lance noticed his poorly hidden fear, and he brought his thumbs back up to Keith’s face with a small smile, rubbing small circles on his cheeks.

“I love you,” he announced, and Keith’s face became a delightful shade of red. Pushing back the raven tufts of hair that curled in front of his ear, he smiled softly at the boy who he had fallen so deeply for in front of him.

Keith’s facade officially cracked, and he found himself smiling shyly up at the new red Paladin. “I...I love you too.”

That’s all that Lance could have ever wanted.

-

“Lance, I look ridiculous!” Keith shouted from behind the muffled door of the bathroom. Lance was curious as to why he was taking so long, but it was becoming increasingly clear as to what his delay was.

“Babe, it’s supposed to be ugly. It’s an ugly Christmas sweater,” he wouldn’t tell him that he put in a little extra effort to make Keith’s a bit cuter than the others, that’s for sure.

The door clicked open a minute later, revealing a half-irritated, half-embarrassed Keith. The red sweater that read “Mr. Grinch” was slightly too big for him, revealing his collarbones. Good. Just as he intended. Speaking of big, it was super long, landing mid-thigh on him. He could probably get away with wearing it without pants if he wanted to-... he ended that train of thought before it could even leave the station.

“How-? You look cute in it. You look cute in an ugly Christmas sweater. This is so unfair. I’m calling the police,” Lance muttered, and Keith snickered. Maybe his face matched the color of his sweater, but Lance wouldn’t tell him. Keith flopped back onto the bed, grabbing the back of Lance’s sweater (‘I’ve been mostly nice’) and attempting to pull him back to the mattress.

“Up-up-up! Don’t be a Grinch, Mr. Grinch. It’s Christmas, a day for family,” Lance scolded him, trying to free himself from the iron grip of his boyfriend.

“I have no family,” Keith mumbled, dropping his hand over his eyes dramatically.

Lance snickered then. “Calm down, edgelord.”

But Keith was relentless, dragging his feet even as Lance physically dragged him down to the lounge where the rest of the Paladins were. All of the heads turned as the two entered, barely noting that they entered together. Lance was more intrigued by Pidge’s total irritation and Hunk’s actually sunshine-radiating presence in his bright yellow sweater.

“I see you all found the sweaters I made you!” Lance clapped his hands together, grinning at each and every person in the room.

Pidge groaned. “Not to be rude or anything, but why?” She grumbled, pointing to her sweater that read “Do not feed after midnight”. Lance thought it was clever, anyways.

“Because you’re a gremlin,” he stated simply, enjoying the laughs from around the room, mainly from Matt. Allura and Coran seemed as confused as always.

“Yeah, and you’re a pain in the ass. What else is new?” She mumbled, earning a stern ‘language’ from Shiro.

The others seemed to enjoy their sweaters, at least. Hunk’s “I’ve been good” sweater. Allura and Coran’s matching “Merry Talyeugian” sweaters. Shiro’s “Father Christmas” sweater. Matt’s “I’ve been naughty” sweater.

Being in the vastness of space has its consequences. The tree was barren of any presents underneath, but they were all together, and that’s all that mattered in Lance’s book.

Lance felt warmth as he realized that he found a second family within his team.

Gathering his confidence, Lance slipped away from the team, allowing the music to hook up to the speakers. The familiar bells of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” began, and any conversation that the team was holding dissipated into thin air.

“Pidge? Is that your music?” Hunk questioned, and Lance couldn’t prevent his smile from overtaking his face.

Pidge laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “I wouldn’t play this cursed song if I had to,” she spoke in exaggeration.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need~” Lance began, sauntering out back into the room, nearly breaking character at all of the amused faces that surrounded him. Lance definitely didn’t miss Pidge’s snicker before she herself started singing the lyrics. Coran and Allura looked positively intrigued, watching Lance’s exaggerated movement as he worked himself to the center of the sitting area. After scanning his eyes across the audience, he settled on staring at Keith with a mishevious grin. He certainly didn’t miss Keith’s widened eyes, either.

“I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree~” He sang, gesturing to the empty Christmas tree, resulting in a couple of chuckles around the room. He closed in on his target, never breaking character.

Taking Keith’s hands in his own, he held Keith in a soft gaze, pleased when Keith held him in his own mesmerized gaze. Lance would never get over how pretty his eyes were, a warm violet, now that he could look at them for as long as he pleased. He loves him so much. “I just want you for my own,” He sang, never allowing Keith’s eyes to leave his own, even as he brought one of his hands up to the apple of Keith’s cheek and rubbed small circles. “More than you could ever know.”

It was like they were alone, like there weren’t six other people all watching them curiously. Good. This was a moment for Keith and for Keith only. Keith’s smiled softly as Lance sang the next lyrics.

“Make my wish come true~” his voice quieted, a silent question, answer and a promise all in one as he meditated on the words from his own mouth. “All I want for Christmas~” he sang the exaggerated notes, trying to hit the same notes as Mariah Carey. Keith laughed softly, allowing Lance to hypnotize him with his somewhat-sad attempt at singing.

“...is you,” Keith is everything that he could have ever wanted.

As the bells and the piano started up, he pulled Keith away from the sofa and into the center of the room, Keith looking a bit confused and incredibly worried. Lance stepped back and took a dramatic bow, holding out his right hand for Keith to grab. Keith followed, still looking embarrassed and slightly dumbstruck. “Just follow my lead,” Lance hummed, smiling softly at his boyfriend. Before he could protest, the lyrics started up again. Suddenly, Lance was whisking him away in a dance.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need~” Lance repeated the lyrics as he spun Keith. Hearing the chorused ‘And I’s from Hunk and Pidge, he had to pause to laugh.

“-don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I don’t need to hang my stocking, there upon the fireplace,” he began again, smiling as Keith followed his lead without hesitation, desperate to please him.

“Santa Claus won’t make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day.” Lance reached out a hand, hiding Keith’s hair behind his ear as he did after their first kiss.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know,” he hummed, watching with a warm smile as Keith attempted to mouth the words that he didn’t know.

“Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you,”

Keith was flushed from dancing, a happy grin on his face as Lance continued to twirl him around the room in an almost-waltz. He looked so beautiful. How did Lance deserve him?

“You, baby,” he hummed, personalizing the words, enjoying how Keith fidgeted in his grip.

The rest of the song continued that way, and the two were completely oblivious to their friends’ reactions.

“I knew it would happen sooner or later,” Hunk hummed to Pidge, smiling at how overjoyed and naturally in love they both looked. “I knew something was up when he asked me to kiss him.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped as she turned to him. “Oh my god, he actually asked you? He asked me too. Please tell me that you rejected him.” She laughed, face glowing with laughter.

Hunk grinned at her. “Of course. I just wanted him to sort out his feelings on his own. Looks like he finally came to,” he explained, returning his attention to the two lovebirds who continued to dance around the room like nobody was watching them. Newsflash: everyone was.

“Yeah,” Pidge decided, smiling to herself. She was proud of them. “Looks like he did.”

If only Lance could see Allura’s overjoyed smile.

Before the song could close with the last chorus, Lance dipped Keith. Keith looked content, so incredibly happy, and that made Lance happy, too.

“Hey Lance?” Keith whispered.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Keith smiled. “We’re under the mistletoe.”

Lance glanced up only to discover that yes, that was mistletoe dangling above their heads. In fact, that was his mistletoe that started this whole wonderful mess. He smiled. “Looks like we are.”

Pressing their lips together, they completely ignored the surrounding cheers, so utterly enamored with love that nothing else mattered to them. Lance pressed their foreheads together gently, ears tickling at Keith’s sigh of contentment.

Lance secretly wondered who put it up there, unaware of the small mice that secretly crawled along in the vent shaft, joyfully chirping among themselves.

“I’d love to kiss you for longer, and there will always be time for that, but this is my part,” Lance explained, pulling away from Keith with a mischievous grin and a laugh. Keith watched with such a fondness that Lance found his head spinning all over again, despite standing completely still.

“All I want for Christmas~” he sang, taking a deep breath, noticing all of his other friends doing the same.

“Is...YOU,” everyone screeched with horrible attempts to hit the high note. Keith had to cover his ears, despite laughing so intensely and so naturally that Lance’s heart skipped a beat, even mid-note.

Keith smiled. There will always be time for more kisses.

Lance laughed. Keith was everything that he could have ever wanted.

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 23: Modern AU Murphy

For @jasprjordamn​ who asked in January for a short fic in which “murphy is a grumpy receptionist for a fashion magazine who has to guide all the models (well bellamy at least) who keep getting lost.” I know that was ages ago. But I don’t really know what I’m doing here so...this is just how it’s played out I guess!

Modern AU, ~1500 words

*

The office building that houses Arkadia Monthly is a labyrinth, the most poorly designed building on the East Coast, hands all the way down. Most people unlucky enough to maneuver its halls, looking for editorial offices or conference rooms or, especially, the in-house photo studio, which is tucked away in a back corner that some long-term staff refer to as Purgatory but might be better referred to as Hell, probably feel at some point or another like they are being punished for the sins of a past life.

Or, as in Murphy's case, for the sins of this life.

Murphy privately refers to himself as the Gatekeeper to the Labyrinth, because it sounds better than 'receptionist' or 'secretary.' Although any of those titles is better than intermittent-con-man-who-would-be-facing-jail-time-right-now-but-for-the-intervention-of-his-uncle-the-editor-of-a-small-but-influential-fashion-magazine. Which is a bit of a mouthful. 

Most of his day-to-day tasks, like answering phones and routing mail and even sending out the occasional faux-cheery email, aren't so bad, overall. (Actually, the faux-cheery emails are that bad, but at least no one can see how much eye-rolling he does while typing them.) What really gets him is having to explain, over and over, the ridiculous structure of this building, which would be better off razed to the ground, in his opinion. This happens several times a month, whenever a photo shoot is schedule and a new group of models shows up, all of them with the mistaken belief that they're entering a building that makes sense. 

"Nope, not even a little bit," he tries to explain to a tough and sharply angry woman who has stomped up to his desk. She's already passed him by a half-dozen times, looking for an elevator or a set of stairs that will bring her where she needs to be. She should have just asked earlier, he thinks, instead of letting all this rage build up. But she seems the stubborn type. So instead of greeting him, when she finally caved and approached, she just spat out, "Is there any logic to this place at all?"

Weirdly, it wasn't hard to keep up his smile in response. 

Easier, actually, than most of the times he has to put on a smile.

"Is this your first time visiting Arkadia Monthly?" he asks. He's supposed to ask this every single time, and even though this woman interests him more than most of the models—she's gorgeous and new, so she's almost certainly a model—the words still come out with a clenched-teeth finish.

"And last, hopefully," she answers. "I said I'd do this thing—" She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at herself. "The money's good."

"We all have our reasons for the stupid things we do," he quips, before he can stop himself. This is his place of employment after all—and if he knows what's good for him, he won't fuck it up. For a moment, he's sure the woman is going to reach right over the desk, grab him by the shirtfront and ask who he's calling stupid, just because she seems both strong and easily annoyed. But instead she tips back her head and laughs. Her ponytail swings behind her.

"Yeah. Fair enough." She glances behind him, like she's looking for the hidden map or key that he must be squirreling away, then back to his face. "So are you going to show me the way or what?"

He does, and he's even surprisingly nice about it this time, perhaps as some sort of apology.

Less so with the two stoners who show up the next week, since, even though they're (probably) not actually high when they walk into the building, they just seem like the sort of people who should be messed with. He gives them the most circuitous route he can think of, one that will get them where they want to be but only if they can actually follow it, and expects to see them again soon.

They don't show up again until the end of the day, though, and they're smiling and laughing as they round the corner into the lobby. "This is one ridiculous building," he hears one of them say, and is so stunned that he briefly waves back when they say goodbye to him. They came in from the right, he realizes, which means they must have found the shortcut on their own.

He'd thought that was the strangest sight he'd ever see in this alternative-probation-from-hell, until the day the Abominable Snowman walks in. Or Abominable Snow Nerd, as Murphy initially thought. He gets it: Arkadia is cold in the winter and it's snowing and windy and miserable. This morning, he walked in with his fists stuck deep in his pockets and his chin tucked down toward his collar himself. But this person (not even gender is readily apparent when the figure first appears) looks ready to scale Mount Everest, bundled up in a puffy oversized jacket, long scarf wrapped around its neck, knit hat down past its brow—the only part of the stranger's face that shows is a pair of glasses and a nose, and a hint of tangled dark curls.

Once inside, the figure slides into the corner by the leather couch and overlarge potted plant and starts to undo its many layers. Murphy watches, fascinated despite himself. First the scarf is unfurled, then the hat taken off and dusted of snow. The Snow Nerd is a guy, apparently, and when he loses the jacket, Murphy understands what he's doing here. He's today's model sacrifice. And he should be. Murphy sees plenty of models pass by whose physical attractiveness he understands in only the most academic sense—the aforementioned stoners, a bossy blonde woman who argued with him for ten minutes, apparently just for the fun of it. It's rare for him to see anyone walk in who makes him think, yeah, this person should be...selling clothes, or whatever. But this guy, even with those glasses that he has to push back up his nose with his index finger, fits the bill. It's a pleasant revelation. Makes the day more interesting.

The guy flings his coat and scarf over his arm and approaches the desk, much as Murphy was expecting he would. The more brash arrivals just wander off on their own, and he doesn't make their acquaintance until later, after they've wandered into a near death-trap or two and circled back. Not the new guy, though. He walks up, skips over most of the pleasantries and all of the small talk, and asks if Murphy can tell him where the studio is—"since I've heard it can be hard to find." 

His voice is another surprise, a minor twist in an otherwise exceptionally dull morning. It's low and rough, and doesn't pair at all with the glasses. They say 'I can't keep this slight pair of spectacles from falling down my nose,' while his voice, even when making a request, has the timber of command baked right in. He sounds like he should be giving orders.

Murphy is startled for a half-second, then his face settles down again into a low-slung smirk. "You might want to grab a pen," he warns.

The guy just shoots him a skeptical look, and Murphy huffs out a disinterested sigh—okay, up to you—and begins: "You want to go off to the right, there, down to the end of the hall, turn left—sharp left—up a flight of stairs. It looks like an emergency exit; it's not. At the top of the stairs, turn left, another left, another right, down two floors and—"

"You're making this up."

Murphy looks up. The guy is staring at him, accusatory and just slightly bewildered. He has not, in fact, been writing any of the directions down. Good luck to him then.

Murphy waits an extra beat, then deadpans, "I can send you the long way if you want."

Apparently, the new guy has to think about that one, if he believes it’s a joke or not. He narrows his eyes. But after a long pause, during which Murphy doesn’t blink or back down, he caves. He plucks out a pen from the wire cylinder of Bics on Murphy's desk, accepts the stack of post-it notes Murphy hands him, and raises his eyebrows high. Go ahead then.

"You might want to write small," Murphy warns. 

The new guy shoots him a look that doesn't actually include an eye roll, but might as well, mixed in with the sort of end-of-the-rope angry exasperation that usually precedes a punch to the jaw. Not that he would actually punch a receptionist in a fancy office building. Probably. And not that Murphy would be very upset if he did because, frankly, with a mouth like his, he's encountered worse.

"Just some friendly advice," he adds.

"Just explain it again," the guy answers.

And Murphy shrugs, and does.

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Forging of  the Wolf, Chapter 13

Aedion’s saga continues.  A little smut, a lot of angst, and some violence.  Trigger warning for self-harm.  Read the earlier chapters:  Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4.  Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.  Chapter 12. 

Delaney reached the top of the hill and pulled Horse to a stop.  A light snow had been falling off and on for hours, and the scene before her belonged in one of the paintings in Clery’s parlor.  Below her lay the lights of the city, sprawling along the curve of the river that from here was a broad gray streak.  Far off the distance, she could see the castle rising up, towering above the smaller buildings, bluish gray in the dim light that filtered through the clouds.  It looked strange and fragile compared to the white beauty of Orynth.  Turi had told her it was made of glass, as bizarre as that seemed; she wondered how it was even possible to build a structure that size from glass.  Having watched the glassblowers in Orynth a time or two, she smiled at the image of a giant as big as the continent blowing through a pipe the size of the river below, spinning and crimping to build the form.  

She had finally reached Rifthold.  It had taken weeks for her to master the letter-writing codes well enough to please Clery.  He had found her a group of merchants to travel with, deeming that safer than her traveling as a lone woman, no matter how many times she had pointed out she’d made it to Orynth on her own.  In the end she was grateful; it was much more pleasant to camp with the others than it would have been alone, and they helped shield her from the occasional patrols as well.  

One of the merchants rode up next to her.  “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” Delaney said.

Margite snorted.  “Only from afar, believe me.  Once you’re down there, the smell alone is enough to make you forget all about this view.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“At least you’re working in a bakery, that should help mask it,” the young merchant said, grinning, as she turned her horse to start the twisting road down the hill.  Delaney followed, and they soon caught up with the others.  Horse had the peculiar habit of sliding down hills on his hindquarters.  Delaney had not realized this was unusual, but it had caused quite a lot of alarm among the merchants until she explained it was just his way.  They slid past Margite and Rou, and finally caught up with Coline and Olivyi at the bottom.  Horse stood and shook his sparse mane, obviously quite proud of himself.  

Coline laughed.  “I’m going to miss the two of you,” she said in her honey-sweet voice that could convince a milliner to buy a hat - and did, regularly.  “I wish you could keep traveling with us.”

Delaney smiled.  “I hardly think I’d be much of an asset, I could’t sell bread to a starving man.”

“Don’t tell your new employer that,” Olivyi quipped.  

“Thankfully, I don’t think they expect me to sell it, just bake it.  That I can manage.”

They were near the gates, where she counted three guards perusing everyone who passed.  There wasn’t a line; whether that was due to the weather or the approaching nightfall she didn’t know.  The men seemed bored, barely scanning the five of them on horseback, only stopping Julot the driver with the wagon full of goods.  They paused, waiting for the inspection to finish, Delaney allowing Horse to pick at the sparse grass as payment for getting them there safely.  When one of the guards thumped on the wagon, she tugged up his head and they headed into the city proper.

It was enormous, much larger than Orynth, but it lacked the classic majesty of the white city.  The main road ran parallel to the river though several blocks away, and Margite had not been joking about the smell.  Dead fish odor permeated everything, though some neighborhoods blended that with the even more delightful smells of fetid piss and garbage.  She hoped she’d get used to it in time, but for now, she wrinkled her nose and the others laughed.  After a while, they reached the market district.  There, though they were right along the river, the smells of coffee, bread, and spices outcompeted the less pleasant odors from the river.  The road opened up before them into a large square.  It was deserted at the moment, all of the stalls coated in a layer of fine powdery snow, and starkly beautiful with the lights from the castle hovering over it all.  

Rou led them through the square and towards the warehouses at the far end.  There, the merchants unloaded the wagon into their reserved area with the efficiency that comes from long practice.  Delaney helped where she could, mostly just getting underfoot and sliding around on the slick cobbles.  Finally, Julot unhitched the horses and he, Rou, and Olivyi backed the wagon in before pulling the door closed and padlocking it.

They dropped the horses at the stable of the boarding house where the merchants would be staying and began walking through the section of the market square that contained most of the bakeries.  There were still lights on in most of the windows, people inside working in preparation for the approaching solstice celebration.  When they reached the address Delaney had been given, there were lights on but the door was locked.  Suddenly she was glad for her small posse of merchants.  She hesitated briefly before knocking, and Coline gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and raised her hand.

A rap on the glass door had a black-haired, red-cheeked young woman poking her head through an interior door, then scurrying over to open it.  “We’re closed,” she said politely, “but we’ll be open first thing tomorrow morning.  Is there something  that you’re looking for?”

“I’m Delaney,” she said, feeling like an utter idiot when the woman looked at her blankly.  “Um, my cousin Fulke spoke with someone here about a job for me?”

At Fulke’s name, the other woman’s face had cleared.  “Ah yes, welcome, Delaney.  I’m Lina.  Would your friends like to come in?”  Delaney looked around to them, wondering if her panic showed on her face.  

Margite gave her a hug.  “You’ll be fine,” she said.  “We’ll come by tomorrow, see how you’re making out.  And you know where we’re staying.”  Delaney nodded.  “Good luck my friend.”

This was echoed by the rest of them, and Delaney murmured her thanks.  It wasn’t enough; she owed them so much more. After the emotional whirlwind she had been on for the past eight months, their easy acceptance of her into their ranks had somehow made the ground under her feet more steady even as the terrain had changed from the rugged forests of pine and rock near Orynth to the broad plains of grass in northern Adarlan.   This trip had been the first time she had truly been able to see how varied and lovely this world was; almost her whole life had been spent in the training camp, and on her trip to Orynth she had seldom been able to feel easy enough to just…look.  Margite and Coline, and Rou and Olivyi and even silent Julot - they had given her that.

With a deep breath, she smiled through the tears that burned her eyes and waved as they left.  Turning back to Lina, she was ready to apologize for making the woman wait but she saw such a softness in her round face that she knew the apology was unnecessary.  “Thank you for understanding,” she said instead.  

Lina smiled.  “Good friends are always a blessing,” she replied, stepping back holding the door open.  “Come on in.”

The bakery was new and familiar at the same time.  The warm, rich, yeasty and sweet smell swamped her and she breathed in deep.  The small store at the front opened into a large bustling workspace in the back, at least double the size of Ea’s.  A dozen men and women of a wide range of ages were scattered through the space, and there was flour floating in the sweltering air.  Everyone looked up as Delaney followed Lina into the room, and there were quick smiles of greeting all around before they returned to their work.  

“You came at a bit of an awkward time,” Lina said apologetically.  “With solstice in a couple of days, we’re really busy.  I can quickly show you where your room is, so you can get some rest, and I can show you the ropes in the morning if you like.”

Delaney shook her head.  “No, I’ll help, just tell me where I can put my stuff and wash up.”

Lina gratefully took her to the small wash room and she quickly washed her face and hands and put her hair up in a knot before rejoining the other bakers.  An older man with a pleasant open face called her over and, after a few questions, directed her to a station to roll out and bake cookies.  In what seemed like no time, there were dozens of perfectly golden cookies cooling on racks and Delaney was wiping the sweat from her flushed face.  

The older man approached and surveyed the cookies, gently touching one to test the texture, then picking it up and breaking it in half.  “These are perfect,” he said, nibbling on one half while handing the other to her.  “Luk.”

“Delaney,” she replied, taking the cookie then shaking his outstretched hand.

“Welcome to Rifthold, Delaney.”

*****

“Again.”

Aedion spun his sword in his hand, eyeing the officers who faced him.  In the two months since Mikkal had left, he had been working as much as he could drag his pathetic ass down to the pitch.  A number of his fellow officers had taken it upon themselves to try to beat the shit out of him regularly.  They generally failed, though when it was three on one - he glared at Ivry, Bellamy, and Levett - they certainly could make him sweat for it.  Somehow, even Colonel Sayre, General Paget’s right-hand man, had gotten involved, and it was he who was calling for them to repeat the exercise.

He was exhausted, though he wouldn’t admit it.  Each night, his dreams drove him from sleep; he had finally stopped reaching for that warm male body, finally stopped hoping for that beautiful voice to begin singing while strong arms wrapped around him.  So instead he read, now devouring books about history and strategy rather than the silliness he had previously favored.

Ivry, Bellamy, and Levett got set, and Aedion lifted his sword, but before they went Sayre called out, “Wait.”  Everyone relaxed, and Sayre limped over to Aedion.  “I’ve been watching you for weeks now, boy,” he said, loudly enough for the others to hear, “and I want to see you fight like you would in battle.”  Aedion looked at him in surprise.  “You’re plenty well-schooled in all the techniques, but as far as I can tell you lack the ability to put an opponent down and keep ‘em there.  Prove me wrong.”

“I could hurt somebody,” Aedion said.

Sayre nodded thoughtfully.  “True.”  He turned to the other officers, and they all nodded back.  “Just try to stay your killing blow.”

At least they’re all wearing armor, Aedion thought, as he hefted his sword and his shield.  The armor and the shield were on Sayre’s insistence, and had become standard protocol when he trained.  The latter was because it had been determined Aedion was sloppy with protection, that if he was on a battlefield where there were archers he would need to be able to use it.  He still preferred fighting with two blades, but perhaps…perhaps he was underestimating the usefulness of the shield.

Bellamy charged first, and Aedion parried, then slammed the shield into him, knocking him off his feet and sending his sword flying, before spinning to counter Ivry.  Ivry was too quick, too balanced on his feet for the same maneuver to work, and they clashed, then circled.  When Aedion heard Levett come at his blind side, he lunged at Ivry, pushing him onto his back foot, before spinning to counter Levett with his shield.  A blow from the fist holding hilt of his sword against Levett’s temple dropped him to the ground, and Aedion turned back to Ivry.  For the first time since they’d met, Ivry looked unnerved, but he didn’t pause, just continued on the offensive.  In a few more moves, Ivry was disarmed, and Aedion stopped.  

Bellamy was still on the ground, though he’d managed to roll onto his hands and knees.  Levett was out cold; Sayre and Aedion both rushed to check on him, Aedion sheathing his sword as he moved.  “Well, he’s breathing,” Sayre said grimly.  Levett blinked, then groaned, bringing his arm up to shield his eyes from the light.  Aedion moved to fetch the healer, but looked up to see Raedan already returning with her in tow.  He hadn’t even realized Raedan had been among the gathered watchers, though he wasn’t surprised.

“Levett,” Sayre said quietly, “can you hear me?”

“Mmhmm,” Levett responded, still not taking his arm away from his eyes.  

The healer arrived then and bent over him, talking quietly.  After a few minutes, he rose to his feet, a little unsteadily, and Aedion was right there, helping him as they walked slowly off the field.  When they reached the infirmary, Aedion lifted Levett and set him gently in one of the beds.  “I’m sorry,” he said, as the healer disappeared to grab a tonic.

“For what?” Levett croaked, trying to smile.  “Not your fault I’m slow.”

Before he could respond, the healer was there shooing him out.  When he turned to leave, Sayre was right behind him, and they walked out together.  “The only thing you did wrong, boy,” the colonel said once they were back outside, “is apologize.”  He clapped Aedion on his armored back before heading off towards his office.

Aedion shook his head in disbelief, then headed towards Ivry’s house.  He couldn’t stop his hand from slipping into his pocket and touching the worn, folded paper that lay there.  He had been carrying it around since he had found it, tucked deep into his saddle bag, about two weeks after Mikkal had left.  He didn’t need to pull it out to read it.  When he closed his eyes, that elegant flowing script was all he could see.

Dearest Aedion,

There was so much I should have told you and didn’t.  I don’t think you have any idea how brilliant you truly are.  You need to be willing to embrace every part of you, if you are going to achieve what you hope to.  Your heritage is a blessing.  Don’t fear it.  Your strength, your speed - these things will save you.  

We never really spoke much of your family, but I know what was done to them.  And I can guess by whom.  You have the strength, the courage, and the intelligence to do what needs to be done.  I wish I could be there to help you, to see you set things right at last.  For I have every faith you will do so, and no matter where I am, I will know - and be proud of you.

I am grateful that the gods saw fit to let us have each other, even if it was only for a few months.  I see now that this was why they spared me; that they denied all my prayers while I was in Fenharrow so that I could have the joy of knowing you.  Now that I am going back into that hell,  know that no matter what my thoughts will always be of you.

With love, Mikkal

When he had first read this, he had been angry, so angry, with himself as well as with Mikkal.  The last paragraph - he should have known.  Should have understood the shadows he had seen lurking in those amber eyes.  Mikkal had hinted at it enough, but he had been too caught up in everything, too happy, to recognize it.  But Mikkal…he should have told him.

Perhaps that shared pain, those shared unanswered prayers for death, were what had drawn them to each other.

Now, softened by the intervening weeks, he clung to the first paragraph.  That and the memory of their last night were what dragged him out from his tangled sheets each morning, what pushed him to pick up the weapons that had become so heavy.  For though he was learning all he could about strategy, he was no closer to figuring out how to actually pull off his plans.  

He had received his promotion to Captain a few weeks ago, a necessary step before he could be sent into Terrasen with a company of his own.  It was the weather that kept him where he was, as the snow coming down from the Staghorns would be making the roads challenging at best farther north.  Here they had had a few snowfalls, but the sun had returned in between to melt it away.  In Perranth, or Orynth, they would not be so lucky.  He didn’t know to which city he would be sent first.  Orynth was four times the size of Perranth, and contained the majority of the lords who still lived and likely most of the rebels.  On the other hand, Perranth was more securely under Adarlan control, given that that piece-of-shit Vernon had surrendered completely to the King of Adarlan after he gave his own brother and niece over to the butchering blocks.

This was what should have been occupying his thoughts, but at the moment, he just wanted to find some release.  The fight was over so quickly that it had just whetted his appetite, especially since he had finally loosened the tight leash he kept on himself.  He knocked on Ivry’s door and was welcomed in by Mrs. Ivry, who promptly handed him tiny Morghanna and went to get her husband.  He emerged fresh from his bath a few minutes later, smiling a bit at the sight of his daughter being cradled in Aedion’s huge hands.

“I could use a ride into town,” Aedion said quietly,  not wanting to wake the sleeping baby.  “Any errands I can run for you?”

Ivry was more than happy to hand him a list, and Aedion was off after transferring Morghanna carefully to her father.  Avenar sensed his mood, and kicked up her heels as he let her into a gallop once they hit the road.  Once they hit the town, he tied her and completed his errands before allowing his feet to carry him towards The Sow’s Ear.  The small tavern was at the far end of town from the inn, and had a rather different clientele.  He dodged drunken dancers before landing at the bar, accepting his glass of ale from the curvy bartender.  Lizabet gave him a wink, and he sipped slowly, watching her and the other staff serving the patrons, waiting for her signal.  When she tapped on the bar and the brown-haired woman took her place, he rose from his stool and walked out into the alley.

It was the ale - far superior to that of the inn - that had first brought him here, but it was the bartender that kept him coming back.  That first visit, she had dropped a note in front of him inviting him to meet her in the alley during her break.  He had been a bit startled when she had declined his offer of a visit to the inn, instead talking him through taking her against the brick wall of the tavern.  Now it was a regular occurrence, with him finding excuses to make it into town multiple times per week.  

Lizabet was waiting behind the tavern, and they lost no time.  As he covered her mouth with his, she unbuttoned his pants, freeing the arousal that had sprung the moment he’d stepped out of the building, then lifted her skirts.  He picked her up with one arm under her ass and the other supporting her shoulders, and she reached between them to guide him into her.  It was a matter of a few thrusts before she was moaning into his mouth, a few more before he felt her core clenching around him.  He found his release not long after, ignoring the hollow feeling that always persisted despite the waves of pleasure coursing through his body.  

As she was straightening her skirts, he asked, “How long do you have?”  Sometimes they could manage another session.

“I need to get back,” she said with a smirk, “but I can send one of the other girls out.”  She had offered this a number of times, and he had taken her up on it once or twice, but he shook his head.  The door closed behind her, and he turned and headed back to Avenar.  On the ride home, he couldn’t fight the wave of shame that washed over him.  It had not been that long since Mikkal had left, and he couldn’t stop rutting like a tomcat in an alley.  He cursed his lack of self control.  Yet he knew in two days, or three, he’d be back there.  It was a pale imitation of making love, but at least it was a few minutes of feigned closeness.

Once he was back in his room, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen.  As he had every week for the past two months, he began to write.

Dearest Mikkal…

*****

The hammering outside was driving into Mikkal’s brain.  The camp he was at, that had begun as a temporary holding during the initial push into Fenharrow, was being made permanent.  The dining hall, kitchens, infirmary, and main house were already built.  Now the barracks were going up, at his insistence.  The original plan had been to build the officers’ houses first, but he pointed out that it was much more efficient to build one large building to house the barracks, and the officers could always bunk in if they wished to get out of the tents.  It had been the first time he had pushed back a bit against General Chambers.  Since he had been careful to do it behind closed doors it had been accepted, if not with grace, at least with grudging respect.

He just wished it wasn’t being built right next to his gods-damned tent.  But then, the general was entitled to his bit of revenge.

“Major Paget?”  One of the pages entered with a stack of letters for him, and he nodded to the corner of his desk then thanked the boy for setting them there.  Finishing up his report, he leaned back in his char, studying the pile of envelopes.  Taking a deep breath, he reached for it.

The first few were the expected responses from some of his fellow officers at nearby camps, concerning his inquiries regarding the welfare of the locals caught between the rebels and Adarlan’s forces.  There was a letter in his father��s strong hand.  And then - there it was.  Aedion’s scrawl.  Starting at the top, he read through, making notes about where the farms and markets were still thriving, and where they were burned out or gone fallow. The latter list was far longer.  He shook his head as he jotted down the last few names; he needed to present this to General Chambers.  It was vital to get food to the regions where the farms and markets were gone as soon as possible.

His father had written primarily to congratulate him on his promotion to major.  There were little bits of information about the camp; his mother was enjoying her time watching the Ivry’s baby, evidently Raedan Lamar had made a full recovery, and Major Bellamy was engaged to a girl from his hometown.  And at the end:  Ashryver continues to work with Colonel Sayre as you had suggested.  We will be putting together a small company of men to accompany him in the spring, when we expect him to begin to rally a force in the north.  

Lastly, he reached for Aedion’s letter.  He just held it for several long minutes, fingers tracing the letters that made up his name.  Sighing, he flipped it over and broke the seal.  His heart cracked anew as he read.  Each of these letters had the same effect.  After the first one, that had been so crackling with anger and pain he had barely been able to finish it, he had actually put in for a transfer back north.  It had been denied, and even though he told himself that was expected, the only thing that kept his dagger from plunging into his own skin was imagining the anguish he would cause his mother.

He had not been able to answer any of the letters.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; it was that when he picked up his pen it seemed to be physically impossible for him to actually make it move across the paper.  Setting the paper down on the desk, he leaned back in the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Shit.”

A lieutenant stuck his head through the flap then.  “Major Paget?”

“Yes?”

“You’re wanted by the general, sir.”

“Thank you, lieutenant.”  Picking the letter up, he caressed it lightly before dropping it into the box with the others and left the tent.

*****

Delaney was beginning to get the feel of Rifthold.  She shared the rooms above the bakery with several other young women, and though the days were long and hectic, they often went out afterwards.  There were always a dozen parties to be found, and it seemed like everyone in the whole city between the ages of fifteen and thirty managed to be at one of them.  At first she had hated it; the noise, the crush of bodies, and the smell of sweat and alcohol and worse all combined to make her feel nauseated.  But now she was used to it, and was coming to even enjoy it.  Gossip flowed with the liquor, and she found that as long as she had a drink in her hand and acted vaguely interested she was easily incorporated into conversation.

Fulke had come to see her as soon as she had sent word of her safe arrival, greeting her with a hug and some clothes.  He agreed to take on Horse, so she wouldn’t have to worry about selling him.  He also insisted she renew her self-defense lessons, something she grumbled about but was secretly pleased to hear.  She had one day off per week, and spent that afternoon with him training.  He then had her and a rotating cast of friends for dinner.  About half the friends were rebels, from all over the empire.  The rest were people he met in the course of his cover job as an arms merchant.  Once Delaney convinced him to invite her merchant friends, and that was by far her favorite evening.  Rou and Fulke hit it off immediately, and the small flat was filled with all their laughter.  When her friends left the city a few days later, they assured her they would visit on their return; it was the only thing that kept her from grieving their departure.

Otherwise the winter wore on uneventfully.  Her weekly letters to her dear Uncle Clery went out like clockwork, largely full of unimportant nonsense so far.  She caught occasional glimpses of young Prince Dorian when he rode out on his horse, always with a brown-haired youth of about Raedan’s age at his side.  Now that she was in Adarlan, she was able to keep better track of its soldiers, and had indeed confirmed that Raedan was still a soldier in General Paget’s camp.  Aedion’s promotion to captain made her grin, but she couldn’t brag as she wished to so she settled for cutting out the clipping with his name and tucking it in with her meager possessions.

It was getting close to spring, though you wouldn’t know it in the city still filled with dingy slush.  She was bringing fresh rolls up to the front when she first saw her.  Rich, golden brown hair braided into a crown around her head; warm brown eyes flecked with gold; and such finely modeled features that she looked like one of the rare porcelain dolls she had seen in the shops.  The woman was probably a year or two older than Delaney herself, and she smiled so sweetly at Lina, who was working the counter that day, that Delaney froze.  When she turned to leave, her packet of cookies - cookies Delaney herself had baked - in her hand, she saw Delaney gaping at her and paused.  A tinge of shyness crept into the smile but she held her gaze for a long moment.  When she finally left, Delaney nearly fell over and she realized she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Does she come in often?” Delaney asked as she dumped the rolls into their basket.

“Who?” Lina asked absent-mindedly, taking advantage of a short lull to neaten the glass case.

“That woman with the cookies.”

“Lady Massie?  Yes, she’s in regularly.  Loves our cookies and the miniature cakes.”

Lady.  Of course she was an aristo, and Delaney herself was the unclaimed daughter of a soldier and a camp laundress.  Oh well.  At least she could look at her.  But to be able to see her regularly…it became of vital urgency that she learn the sales aspect of the bakery as soon as possible.

*****

It was the middle of the night when a runner started pounding on the door of Mikkal’s small cottage, still so new it smelled of paint.  He yanked open the door, and the wild-eyed boy panted out, “We’re under attack.  Rebels, hundreds of them.”  Cursing, Mikkal threw on his tunic and boots and his light armor, the runner helping fasten him in, then grabbed his sword and dagger, buckling them on as he moved.  Running out and up the closest watch tower, he met one of his fellow majors at the top, staring grimly down at the men with torches surrounding the camp.  A number of their own soldiers were marching through the gate, ready to engage.  As they watched, the rebels dipped their arrows in the flames and sent them soaring over the wall.  

“Well, shit,” Mikkal said as the arrows landed on the newly built buildings.  Most of them extinguished on impact, but a few started to burn.  Turning, he ran back down the stairs and towards the stables.  Chetak was already saddled along with the other officers’ horses, and he threw himself on and spurred him into a gallop.  They raced through the camp, the gates swinging open again as he approached.  The Adarlanian soldiers parted as he burst through, and he charged down on the rebels, using Chetak’s big body to drive them back without drawing his blade.  They began giving ground to get away from the plunging hooves, and his men surged behind him to aid in pushing back.  A few took aim at the horse with their bows and Mikkal roared in fury as they let fly.  Chetak grunted and lurched as an arrow hit him in the hindquarters.  Pulling him up, Mikkal reached back and yanked it out, sitting the resulting buck, then throwing his leg over and dropping to the ground.  The horse, not being a fool, spun and galloped back to the camp while Mikkal turned to the assailants.  They were poorly armed, with cheap leather armor, and his own troops were at his back as arrows began to fly from the watch towers.  One by one, the rebels began to drop, but they did not retreat; all who could stay on their feet engaged.  Mikkal found himself attacked by three opponents, whom he quickly disarmed, then disabled with strokes to the backs of their legs.

“I don’t want to kill any of you,” he screamed in frustration, as the third man fell and a fourth came in to take their place.  There was no sign any of them heard.  The fourth man went down, and as he did so an impact drove into Mikkal’s left shoulder, bringing him down to his knees on ground that was already slick with blood.  Looking down, he saw an arrow protruding from the joint of his armor - am impressive, or lucky, shot.  He brought his sword up, then sliced down, shearing the shaft so it no longer protruded before lurching back onto this feet.  Looking down the hill, he saw his soldiers pushing the rebels back, continuing to pursue even as they turned to run.  Mikkal realized - this wasn’t going to be a mere victory for Adarlan, it was going to be a wholesale slaughter.  

He ran down into the fray, screaming at his men to stop, but his voice was drowned out by the cries of the dying rebels, by the bloodlust he knew was roaring through the veins of the soldiers.  As he reached the front and tried to turn back to get the attention of his men, a rebel leaped on him from behind and he went down, rolling, hooking the man’s ankles so when they stopped he was on top.  There was a thin burn from under where his armor ended but he couldn’t acknowledge it as the man slashed upwards with a dagger, just as he brought his own sword down.  His honed blade sliced through the man’s throat and sank deep into the spine beneath.  The threat eliminated, Mikkal sat back on the man’s abdomen and looked numbly at his throbbing sword hand.  The little finger was gone, the ring finger cut to the bone.  

A sudden cessation of noise made Mikkal look up.  The rout was over; the ground was littered with lumps he couldn’t bring himself to consider.  It was too dark to even begin to guess at the numbers, or to try to differentiate how many of those mounds on the grass were his own men.  Chest heaving, he looked down at the corpse between his knees.  The man’s dagger was laying in the grass next to him, and there was something next to it.  He reached down and picked the object up with his left hand, feeling a dull twinge of pain in his right and another just above his pelvis, and stared at it stupidly.  After several long seconds it registered that it was his finger.  Dropping it, he pressed his hand down on the chest of the rebel, studying it.  He could still hold a sword, still fight, still murder in the name of the King once his ring finger healed.  If only that knife had been sharper, had come up with more force…

There was nobody near him.  He reached down and picked up the dagger.  Gripping it in his bloody left hand, he studied his right.  Angling the knife to fit into the existing wound, he sucked in a breath and yanked, drawing the blade through the ring finger and deeply into the middle one.  Biting down on his cry, he dropped his head for a moment and breathed, trying not to be sick from the sharp metallic smell of the blood that mixed with the smells of urine and shit leaking from the dead man beneath him.  Curling his index finger in, he finished the job on the middle finger, severing it at the first knuckle.  

He did vomit then, though the pain was more muted than he expected; it was more from the sight of the finger dropping, the quiet thud as it hit the ground.  He dropped the dagger next to it before vomiting again.  The spasms caused the burn in his lower abdomen to increase.  Once he was finally done retching, he stood shakily.  There was a sticky wetness seeping into his waistband and shirt and he looked down, but he couldn’t see past the edge of his armor.  

Voices sounded nearby, and he turned towards them and tried to walk up the hill.  The voices were familiar, but he couldn’t see anybody; suddenly he couldn’t see much at all, it was so dark, as if the moon and stars had disappeared behind clouds.  He took a few staggering steps before his legs wouldn’t work at all, and there was a distant shout as he went down on his knees.

Suddenly there were hands on him, rolling him onto his back, and low fervent cursing.  His armor was unbuckled and he felt a pull in his left shoulder as the front was lifted off.  The arrow.  He tried to help but his arms, like his legs, wouldn’t move.  Somehow the moon and stars reappeared then, and there was enough light that he recognized one of his lieutenants and a couple of other men, one of whom had turned aside to retch.  One of the men was kneeling behind him, gently elevating his head, and he looked down, to see his abdomen gaping open, the torn muscle glistening through the blood.

“Shit,” he tried to say, but nothing came out.  Figures, he thought.  Now the gods see fit to answer my prayers.  His last thought before the world went black was, Aedion, I’m sorry.

*****

It was during a gray thaw that Aedion’s orders finally came.  As early as safe passage was possible, he was to select a small number of soldiers to head to Orynth.  There they were to try to glean what information they could about the Bane, most of which was rumored to be north of the Staghorns.  He was then to use his judgment whether to return to camp or continue north for more information, but he was to report back before taking any action to recruit members of the Terrasen army.

This led to a series of arguments about how many soldiers should accompany him.  Aedion initially wanted to go alone, but accepted the general’s flat refusal.  Sayre wanted to send a small force of around thirty; Aedion insisted that would come across as overly aggressive for their purposes.

In the end, they settled on five total: three regulars, one lieutenant, and Aedion himself.  Few enough to travel quickly, but not so few they would be vulnerable.  The first person he approached was Raedan; he hadn’t even gotten halfway through his first sentence before Raedan asked, “When do we leave?”  Aedion had blinked at him, and Raedan had given him a twisted smile.  “I’ll follow you anywhere, Aedion.”  

“It’s going to be rough.  Not too many inns on the way, we’ll be camping a lot, and I have no idea when we’ll be back.  Even if we’ll be back, when it comes down to it.”

“Anywhere.”  And that was that.

The rest of the soldiers were a bit harder to select.  Raedan took it upon himself to make suggestions, all of which Aedion ignored.  Not that he didn’t trust Raedan, but he knew what he needed.  He ended up selecting Osment and Dorsey, for the other regulars, and Lieutenant Hirons.  The latter was from the class of lieutenants that had preceded Aedion’s own, and he was good-humored and hard working.  Not the best fighter but clever and good in the woods, which would be much more important on this mission.

Spring came early.  It was barely past the equinox when the rain replaced the snow and the flowers began to emerge.  Finally the general settled on a date, and it was a good several weeks earlier than originally planned.  Aedion was eager to get going; he had nothing to hold him now, especially since Raedan was coming with him.  The sooner he could get away from his cold sheets and empty bed the better.  Plus when he was hundreds of miles to the north he could pretend that was the reason his letters had all gone unanswered.

Two days before he was due to leave, he found himself buried in Lizabet in the alley yet again.  He kind of figured fucking opportunities would be thin on the ground, given he had no interest in any of his companions.  When they had both finished and she was straightening herself, he blurted out, “I’m leaving in a few days.”

“Oh?” she said, tucking her shirt farther into her skirt.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.  If I’ll be back.”

She looked at him then, and gave the most casual of shrugs.  “Well, then,” was all she said, and she turned and went back into the tavern with no hint of a backwards glance, no trace of disappointment in her face.  He stared at the door for a moment, then started to laugh.  Still chuckling, he headed back to the camp.

One of the stable boys took Avenar’s reins from him as soon as he dismounted.  “You’re wanted in General Paget’s study, sir,” he said, and Aedion thanked him.  He wondered what part of the plan had changed; he’d spent more time in that study in the past two weeks than he had in the previous ten months.  He walked to the main house and knocked on the door.  Mrs. Giffard let him in, and for once her pleasant face was grim as she led him to the study and knocked on the door.  He could smell fear and grief in the air, and a gnawing dread began in his stomach.

The voice that called “Enter” was almost unrecognizable.  Aedion walked in, and the general’s gray, drawn face was decades older than it had been the day before.  He reeled back as if he’d been punched in the gut.

“He’s dead, isn’t he,” he said, his own voice a mockery of its usual self.  “Mikkal, he’s…”

“No,” the general said, shaking his head and coming around the desk to put a hand on Aedion’s arm.  “No, they think he’s going to live, at least as of three weeks ago.”

Aedion dropped into the seat behind him and covered his face in his hands.  General Paget stood near him, patting his shoulder.  “What happened?”  He forgot to add the sir, and the general did not correct him.

“Rebels attacked his camp in the middle of the night, setting fire to the buildings.  He rode out to try to drive them back, and he ended up in the midst of the fighting.  When they found him, he was next to the body of a rebel, and…” The general’s voice broke.  He took several deep, shuddering breaths and continued, “and he was missing most of his right hand, and was nearly gutted.  He also had the head of an arrow in his shoulder, they said he was hit early on and cut off the shaft so he could keep fighting.”

Aedion was shaking his head, thinking of that body he knew so well, those hands, mutilated.  More scars marring his skin.  “But they think he’ll be all right?”

“They think he’ll live,” General Paget repeated.  

Aedion caught the distinction.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

There was a long pause before Paget replied.  “He never drew his dagger.  He rode out there without a shield, and he never even drew his dagger, just his sword.”  

It took a while before he understood.  His turquoise eyes were as hard as gemstones when he met the general’s.  “You don’t mean…you think he didn’t intend to survive.”

“It was a rout, son, not a single rebel escaped.  According to the major who sent me the letter, by the time he was hit with the arrow, the fight was all but over.  And he ran back in.  He went to the front of the lines and engaged again.”  There were tears coursing down that rugged face, that Aedion had seen angry and calm and passionate but never so full of despair.

So you still pray for death, Mikkal, after all we had?  Were you thinking of me as you tried to die?  What kind of love is that, or was it never love for you at all?  He dropped his head back in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw a kaleidoscope of light as he fought back the tears, the anger that flared at the betrayal.

Abruptly he stood, and bowed to the general.  “Thank you for telling me, sir.”

“I don’t expect to hear more before you leave.  Do you want me to send updates?  It may be hard while you travel.”

“Thank you, sir, but no.  I don’t think it’s practical.”  And I’m not sure I want to know.  He bowed and turned to leave.

“He does…care for you a great deal, Aedion.”  General Paget had never used his name before that he could recall.

His hand resting on the door handle, Aedion looked back at him.  “Not enough, sir.”  With another bow, he opened the door and left.

[sanjitchudha]

Laugharne, Saundersfoot, Waterwynch, Tenby, Manorbier, Caldey Island, Stackpole Quay, Barafundle Bay, St David’s … names redolent of the far West of the Pembrokeshire coast of Wales.

Coastlines are fascinating spaces. The combination of liminal land, shifting sands, and variable weather parallel our existence.

Fluctuating and evolving.

Surprising.

Changing … yet remaining somehow eternal in the face of change too, solid, like the rocks that rear up out of the sea.

Eternal Change

The southern Wales coastline is much underrated. That’s a sad mistake in my view.

As southern England slept the sleep of the Dark Ages, here the fusion of Celtic and Romano British culture thrived, with writers like Gildas in the early 6th century writing The Fall and Conquest of Britain in polished, elegant and precise Latin. Written partly as a paean to the departing legions, it was also an exemplar to the local Celtic nobility filling the void the Romans left, and was intended to galvanise them against the approaching Saxon threat.

It was also at this time, long before St Augustine’s mission to England towards the end of the 6th century to convert the ‘heathens’, that St David’s was founded as a Cathedral. St Catherine’s Island off Tenby had a chapel dedicated to the saint of spinners and weavers at about the same time. Numerous holy places named for Saints not recognised by the Church in Rome, but known to the Welsh and Irish, flourished and testify to a thriving pre-existing Christian tradition. The sanction of the church in Rome or any other ‘higher’ external authority was not sought here. But neither was this an insular, backward place.

Today St David’s has a woman Bishop, the first in these islands. Trade and culture are as entwined with Ireland or Western Europe today as they once were when this was one of the centres of the Celtic world.

Southern Wales’ supposedly ‘grimy’ quality could not be further from the truth.

  Which brings me to food …

Anyone familiar with this blog knows about my obsessions – food, art, history, culture, social anthropology …

Food preserves the traces of cultures and interactions better than anything else. Along the Pembrokeshire coast it’s no different.

In this coastal region, wild fish and seafood predominates alongside extensive dairy production. Beef, Poultry and Pork follow closely alongside a simple but satisfyingly diverse range of vegetables and herbs which grow profusely in the gentle Atlantic Gulf Stream climate.

The growing season here is longer than in most parts on the UK

The distance from field to fork less than in most parts of the country

A long-standing Italian population has established a tradition of ice cream making and delicatessen which matches anything available in London

The supply chains for supermarkets and their heavily centralised systems, too long to sustain a large scale presence

What might seem a curse in a city like London is, here, a blessing …

Independent and highly localised trade predominates and helps sustain a demotic food culture.

This being South Wales, there was less Lamb than people might expect of Wales. Lamb husbandry takes place mainly in central and North Wales, where the upland pasture is used to provide a long feeding season for the animals and where land is cheaper.

Add to the mix the long-standing trade connections with North West France, Spain and the Mediterranean, and you have a richly varied cuisine, augmented by small scale brewing and distilleries making high quality gin, and a culture of delicatessen providing foods from (or in the style of) France, Spain and Italy.

The ingredients are in place …

I made gorgeous fresh, sweet scallops while in Tenby and combined them with Chorizo. It’s an amazing combination of flavour and texture, and was offset with a mild, elegant, green pea puree. The Chorizo was sparingly used, allowing the delicate flavour of the scallops and the pea puree to shine. A golden rule for a marvellous result.

Here goes …

I used around 35 g of Chorizo, cubed (keep them tiny so they crunch up when cooked) – these I then fried in a griddle pan with a tiny amount of olive oil (the fat in Chorizo is released as it cooks so you really don’t need much)

I used 10 scallops (5 each), which I had washed, and then rubbed gently with olive oil and fresh ground black pepper before setting them aside for a couple of hours

I took around 150g of freshly shelled peas (you can use frozen, but nothing beats fresh as we had it) and placed in a pot of salted boiling water along with a fat, fresh, clove of generous garlic (skin on) for around 2 – 3 minutes

Then I drained the peas, setting aside a little water for later (and taking out the garlic and setting that aside too) …

I then treated myself to a sip of Picpoul de Pinet from the sun baked limestone plateau between Agde, Pézenas and Sète in the Languedoc region of southern France (between Montpellier and Narbonne).

Bone dry, Picpoul is usually crystal clear with green highlights perfect to pair with seafood. Older vines can create a golden hued wine which I find is usually better with cheese. It’s a soft wine, delicate on the nose, with hints of fresh ‘green’ blossom with a an excellent acid/structure balance.

I digress – Back to the recipe … 

Now that the garlic had cooled, I peeled it easily, half squeezing the soft, buttery garlic out into a bowl the process. I added the warm peas and a couple of table spoons of the water they cooked in, and then added a table spoon of salted butter and a teaspoon of olive oil. I then mashed the lot, mixing as I mashed to create an unctuous green mess. I tasted it and felt it needed a little black pepper and a touch of salt so added these – it’s really up to you. I did so because I wanted a certain sharpness to cut through the smoky Chorizo and the buttery/creamy sweetness of the scallops.

Before cooking the scallops I roughly wiped down the pan I had cooked the Chorizo in – I wanted some of the flavour to remain, just not too much. To aid cooking the scallops I added a table spoon of olive oil and heated the pan up on a high heat, and then popped the scallops on for just under a minute. I then took the scallops off the pan – they mustn’t stay in a hot pan as they’ll just get rubbery if overcooked – they should be soft and yielding.

With the back of a tablespoon I popped a couple of generous blobs of pea puree on each plate. With the back of the spoon I smeared them into a ‘swish’

On top, I plonked 5 scallops and then the crispy, smoky Chorizo cubes with a little of the oil they had released …

Now, this is optional, but I think it works – I then took a fat red chilli (the kind you often see in Spain or Italy which is less hot – and which is also grown in Pembrokeshire under glass) … this I sliced thinly and diagonally and just added two or three to each plate atop the scallops

By sheer luck I also got some pea shoots with the fresh peas I had bought that day, so I added these as a garnish along with some finely chopped and flavoursome Parsley.

I have no picture of the results – they didn’t last long enough!

After dinner we headed a couple of streets along to Fecci for amazing ice cream and then took a walk along the cliffs to the South Beach at sunset, finishing the evening with a gorgeous locally produced Gin (whose name I carelessly forgot!) – infused with orange peel, rosemary and herbs along with the traditional juniper, cardamom, coriander, etc., this was an aromatic and heady finish to the day.

A bit about Tenby

A perfect base from which to explore the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path and the many beaches that dot this area, Tenby is a pretty but unpretentious town settled stop cliffs and facing South East across a wide bay towards the Gower Peninsula.

Tenby isn’t spoilt. It’s no Whitstable or Southwold. Rich or poor, everyone eats great fish and chips  and ice cream – readily available and high quality from several outlets (Fecci do both, and Pipers majors on Fish and Chips).

There are some high end restaurants – but again, these aren’t fussy or over-pricey. It’s not the sort of place that wants or needs a Rick Stein. It’s happy as it is, and it’s rather lovely for it.

Go – but respect it for what it is. It’s been here longer than you or me, and it will be around for a while yet.

Oh – and one small thing. The Sunday Times’ Great British Beach Guide named Tenby as having the UK’s beat beach (Castle Beach). Though for me, South Beach was just as good and less busy – Waterwynch Bay was a dream, Saundersfoot, Manorbier, Barrafundle … it’s a long list.

Coasts Laugharne, Saundersfoot, Waterwynch, Tenby, Manorbier, Caldey Island, Stackpole Quay, Barafundle Bay, St David's ... names redolent of the far West of the Pembrokeshire coast of Wales.

[truemedian]

Today's Love Horoscopes For All Zodiac Signs On Tuesday, June 2, 2020

Intense feelings and deep insight coming your way, star signs. Your daily astrology forecast is here with love horoscopes for you and all zodiac signs for today on Tuesday, June 2, 2020. The Sun is in the zodiac sign of Gemini until June 20. The waxing gibbous Moon in Libra will enter Scorpio at 11:04 a.m. EST.

How will today's love horoscopes and astrology forecasts affect each of the zodiac signs in relationships?

The Moon in Libra is social and balanced, but the Scorpio Moon can teeter feelings slightly toward intensity and deep, dark emotions. RELATED: Mercury In Cancer Love Tarot Card Reading For All Zodiac Signs, May 28-August 4, 2020 The Moon's light is intensifying and it represents our world's collective emotions, and it isn't that hard to tell. The Moon is fast approaching the first Full Moon lunar eclipse in Sagittarius in the last 100 years, which will take place on Friday while the Sun is in the zodiac of Gemini. The Moon in Scorpio is like the psychic surgeon who senses where problems are located even if all other data says that there's nothing wrong. This is the perfect energy for soul-searching and for looking into your own life about love, your fears, hopes and wants, and to remove the toxic energies from your personal life. The Moon in Libra (before entering Scorpio) will square the planet that rules Scorpio — Pluto at 2:14 a.m. EST today. This can bring up a need to make changes, so many zodiac signs will do a 180-degree turn from lifestyle choices that have been previously practiced. The Moon will also square the planet of luck and good fortune which is in the sign of its detriment, Capricorn. Jupiter in Capricorn is still benevolent, but we aren't going to see the fruits of our labors right now. The light is dim and yet, the work must still be continued, so press on Once the Moon enters the sign of Scorpio at 11:04 a.m. EST, it squares the retrograde planet Saturn in Aquarius at 1:33 p.m. EST, where structures are being broken and the new world will begin. Things that don't fit with the collective future, anything that is against loving relationships that is no longer needed is under judgment while Saturn retrograde returns over the Aquarius-Capricorn cusp. There's emotional anger. So, be careful when choosing your battles — but do know you can learn from them. Venus, the planet of love and beauty will square the planet of War, Mars which is in the sign of spiritual and psychic Pisces today. These are things that can lead to contract changes — communications that are worthy to be heard, and important for you to have in your personal relationships and also those that are taking place all around the globe.

Scroll down to find today's love horoscopes for each of the zodiac signs on Tuesday, June 2, 2020.

Today's love horoscope for Aries (March 21 - April 19)

Aries, be reflective of your comments today. Sometimes it can feel right to be flippant or sarcastic but not for your partner. Be sensitive to your needs but also take into consideration the feelings or wants of others as best you can. RELATED: The Comprehensive Personality Traits Of The Aries Zodiac Sign — And What Every Aspect Of Their Life Is Like

Today's love horoscope for Taurus (April 20 - May 20)

Taurus, people appear in our lives for a reason and their presence can make us stronger. You may find that you're surrounded by people from all walks in life and it's a precious time for you to cherish. RELATED: Which Zodiac Signs Are Most Compatible With Taurus (& Those Who Should Stay Away From This Stubborn Bull)

Today's love horoscope for Gemini (May 21 - June 20)

Gemini, take care of the little things early in the day and stay on top of your personal goals. Today's energy can test your resilience. You'll need to call a timeout in the event that you're ready to go off and say something that you may feel in the moment but not really mean in the long run. RELATED: The Unique Stages Of A Breakup With A Gemini, According To Your Own Zodiac Sign

Today's love horoscope for Cancer (June 21 - July 22)

Cancer, romance are essential parts of your life today. You'll hope and try to make your loved ones feel safe and secure by the little things you say and do. You may find yourself in touch with your sweet side today. Something in your heart can be revealed or communicated with deep passion. It's a good day to make a confession of love if you're waiting for the right timing. RELATED: The Comprehensive Personality Traits Of The Cancer Zodiac Sign — And What Every Aspect Of Their Life Is Like

Today's love horoscope for Leo (July 23 - August 22)

Leo, love and romance take on a practical tone today. Little things that make a house and home can be focused on and attended to. Plan a home-cooked meal or something that brings back the joy of childhood like a baked cake or make some chocolate chip cookies as a gift. RELATED: The Ultimate Leo Compatibility Guide — And Whether Your Zodiac Sign Can Handle This Fiery Personality

Today's love horoscope for Virgo (August 23 - September 22)

Virgo, if you've been thinking and trying to figure someone out, today you may realize that you're on the right track. Listen to your hunches today. RELATED: Which Zodiac Signs Are The Most (And Least) Compatible With Virgo

Today's love horoscope for Libra (September 23 - October 22)

Libra, it's a good day to make an investment in your future. You may realize an angle that you had not considered in the past and feel like an option is wide open and best for your relationship. It will also be a good day for making money decisions as a couple. RELATED: 7 Ways To Love A Libra Woman & Win Her Heart, According To Astrology

Today's love horoscope for Scorpio (October 23 - November 21)

Scorpio, your possessive side can come out strongly today. If there are any fatal flaws in existing relationships you'll see them for what they are. Keep your rose-colored glasses off and use them for another day. RELATED: 14 Pros And Cons Of Loving A Scorpio (Buckle Up For A Wild Ride!)

Today's love horoscope for Sagittarius (November 22 - December 21)

Sagittarius, making a point can feel like the right thing to do, but you're at risk of trying to fix something that is irrelevant or irreparable in your love life. An argument or solution may not be practical for you to participate in. You may want to take the high road and move on to a truce or cut ties altogether. RELATED: Sagittarius + Sagittarius Zodiac Sign Love & Relationship Compatibility, Per Astrology

Today's love horoscope for Capricorn (December 22 - January 19)

Capricorn, a friendship or networking relationship can be helpful for you today. It's a great day for you to search for legal advice if you're planning on filing for a divorce. if you have to search for a financial program for your family's debt, today may be a good day for online research. RELATED: 5 Reasons Why A Capricorn Zodiac Sign Is The Best Friend You'll Ever Have

Today's love horoscope for Aquarius (January 20 - February 18)

Aquarius, today, what works for you in love may be a matter of timing. Follow your instincts on what it is that you feel you must do. If you're thinking of someone heavily, chances are they are going to call or are thinking of you too. RELATED: What Makes Aquarius Zodiac Signs So Beautiful, Per Astrology

Today's love horoscope for Pisces (February 19 - March 20)

Pisces, map out your future romantic adventure. Plan for a staycation this weekend and start setting the stage now for what you'd like to spend time doing this weekend with your babe or someone you love. RELATED: 6 Zodiac Signs That Know How To Be Alone (And Actually Prefer It That Way) Sign Up for the YourTango Newsletter Let's make this a regular thing! Aria Gmitter, M.S, M.F.A., is YourTango's Senior Editor of Horoscopes and Spirituality. She studies with the Midwestern School of Astrology and is a member of the South Florida Astrological Association. Read More Read the full article

[laurelkrugerr]

Staying Connected And Learning From Each Other

About The Author

Juggling between three languages on a daily basis, Iris is known for her love of linguistics, arts, web design and typography, as well as her goldmine of … More about Iris …

A month is a long time to stay on top of things. Here you’ll find an overview of everything we’ve been working on and have also enjoyed reading over the past month. Of course, you can always find us on Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn, and also stay updated with our RSS feed as well as our Smashing Newsletter (sent out every second week with all sorts of goodies!).

Digital space obviously has its challenges, but it also provides incredible opportunities for us to connect and learn in ways we just wouldn’t be able to do otherwise. The situation with COVID-19 has challenged us to consider ways in which we could offer a similar SmashingConf experience and access to experts just as in an in-person workshop — without needing to leave your desk.

With insightful takeaways, exercises, access to slides, recordings and friendly Q&As, it has been such an incredible experience already! We’ve had literally people from all over the world collaborating together on group exercises — something we’d never be able to achieve with an in-person event.

We’re looking forward to connecting with Brad Frost, Joe Leech, Miriam Suzanne and many others. Try spotting them, but don’t get too distratced by the Mouse!

And we’re just getting started! We already have a schedule of online workshops ready for you so you can start marking your calendars and join us anytime you like. What better way is there to boost your skills online and learn practical, actionable insights from experts in the industry — live!

Do you like what you see, but are worried about getting some time off from work? Well, you surely didn’t think we would leave your hanging? We know how difficult it can sometimes be, and so we’ve prepared a neat lil’ Convince-Your-Boss template to help you out. Good luck!

Ready For The Next Smashing Book?

That’s right! Paul Boag’s Click! Encourage Clicks Without Shady Tricks is currently in its final production stage and the pre-release starts on May 5. This practical guide has 11 chapters full of advice that can help you start improving your conversion rate in just a matter of simple steps. You can subscribe for a pre-order discount and be one of the first to get your hands on the book. Stay tuned!

Live UX Review With The Author

Next week, we’ll be hosting a Smashing TV webinar with Paul Boag who’ll be reviewing your websites and sharing some techniques you can use to improve conversion rates — without having to resort to any shady tricks. Tell me more →

As for the previous book, printed copies of The Ethical Design Handbook have made their way around the world, and we got to see some happy responses and thoughtful reviews. If you’d also like a copy, you can download a free PDF excerpt (5 MB) to get a first impression of the book — we’re sure you won’t be disappointed!

Also, in case you missed it, there is a Smashing Podcast episode featuring two of the authors of the book: Trine Falbe and Martin Michael Frederiksen. They discuss what it means for a design to be ethical, and how we can make improvements in our own projects.

Drew has also interviewed Laura Kalbag, Eduardo Bouças, Stéphanie Walter, and many more. You can subscribe and tune in anytime with any of your favorite apps!

Trending Topics On SmashingMag

We publish a new article every day on various topics that are current in the web industry. Here are some that our readers seemed to enjoy the most and have recommended further:

“Best Practices With React Hooks” by Adeneye David Abiodun This article covers the rules of React Hooks and how to effectively start using them in your projects. Please note that in order to follow this article in detail, you will need to know how to use React Hooks.

“Inspired Design Decisions With Herb Lubalin” by Andy Clarke How can we combine elements to develop powerful headers and calls to action? How do we use pre-formatted HTML text, and the text element in SVG for precise control over type? How can we optimise SVGs and make SVG text accessible? In this article, we’ll explore just that.

“Baking Structured Data Into The Design Process” by Frederick O’Brien Retrofitting search engine optimization only gets you so far. As metadata gets smarter, it’s more important than ever to build it into the design process from the start.

“How To Make Life Easier When Using Git” by Shane Hudson You don’t need to know your trees from your dangling blobs. If you use Git every day and feel like it’s a juggling act, then here are some tricks and tips to help make your life a bit easier.

Best Picks From Our Newsletter

We’ll be honest: Every second week, we struggle with keeping the Smashing Newsletter issues at a moderate length — there are just so many talented folks out there working on brilliant projects! Kudos to everyone involved!

Interested in sponsoring? Feel free to check out our partnership options and get in touch with the team anytime — they’ll be sure to get back to you right away.

Tips For Leading A Remote Team

Leading a remote design team can feel a bit daunting, especially if it’s your first time. Luckily, other people out there have found themselves in the same situation before and developed strategies to keep the team productive and effective, no matter where everyone might be located. Mark Boulton is one of them.

In light of recent events when many teams need to switch to remote work, Mark summarized some simple but useful approaches that have helped him leading remote teams for years. From continuing your team’s rituals to dealing with expectations on availability and coaching people through the ups and downs that working remotely brings along, Mark’s tips aren’t hard to adopt but they can make a real difference. (cm)

Getting To Grips With CSS Viewport Units

CSS Viewport units provide us with a way to size things in a fluid and dynamic way, without the need for JavaScript. If you haven’t gotten around to dive deeper into the topic yet, Ahmad Shadeed wrote a useful guide to CSS Viewport units.

Starting with a general overview of the viewport units vw, vh, vmin, and vmax, the guide covers how viewport units differ from percentages and explores practical use cases for viewport units and how to implement them in your projects. Just the push you might have needed to make the switch. (cm)

A Better File Uploader For The Web

Building a better file uploader for the web. That was the idea behind the JavaScript image uploader Uppload. Created by Anand Chowdhary, the image uploader is open-source and can be used with any file uploading backend. And with more than 30 plugins, it’s highly customizable, too.

Users can drag and drop their files to upload them or import from a camera, URL, or social media and a several other services (there’s even an option to take and upload a screenshot just by entering a URL). During the uploading process, users can apply effects to the images and adjust filters like brightness, contrast, and saturation. If that’s overkill for your project, you can select only what you need and treeshake the rest, of course. Uppload supports browsers down to IE10. Handy! (cm)

Open-Source Flip Counter Plugin

Do you want to count down to an event, visualize a fundraising campaign, or show a clock or sales counter? Then Rik Schennink’s Flip Counter might be for you. The plugin is open-source, mobile-friendly, easy to set up, and it gets by without any dependencies.

Apart from its ease of use and flexibility, Flip shines with the beautifully smooth animation that is used to flip the numbers on the cards. Depending on your use case, there are several presets that you can use as a starting point to build your flip counter. The visual style can be customized with CSS. A lovely little detail. (cm)

How To Write Good Email Code

Maybe you’ve been in that situation before where you had to code an HTML email but struggled with email code best practices. To help you master the challenge, Mark Robbins set up a library for good email code. You can simply copy and paste the code and use it in your emails or you can learn more about the theory behind it.

Priority lies in making sure the code is semantic, functional, accessible, and meeting user expectations, as Mark points out. Consistency between email clients and pixel perfect design are important, too, but always secondary. One for the bookmarks. (cm)

A Complete Solution For Tooltips, Popovers, And Dropdowns

If you’re looking for a quick and easy solution for tooltips, popovers, dropdowns, and menus, you might want to take a look at Tippy.js. The library provides the logic and styling involved in all types of elements that pop out from the flow of your document and get overlaid on top of the UI.

Tippy.js is optimized to prevent flipping and overflow, it’s WAI-Aria compliant, works in all modern browsers, and, so the promise, it even delivers high performance on low-end devices. You can style the elements with custom CSS and TypeScript is supported out of the box, too. Handy! (cm)

Open-Source Tool To Make Animated Product Mockups

What do you do when you’re missing a tool for a specific purpose? You build it yourself. That’s what Alyssa X did when she was looking for a tool to make animated GIFs and videos to showcase a product. Her take on the subject: Animockup.

With Animockup, you can showcase your product in action within a device mockup. Just drag some screen footage into the browser-based tool, and Animockup automatically places it into your desired mockup. You can add text, images, and adjust the styling, and choose from a selection of presets to optimize your mockup for sharing on Twitter, Dribble, Instagram and the like. A useful little helper. (cm)

Create CSS Color Gradients With Ease

Hand-picking colors to make a color gradient requires design experience and a good understanding of color harmony. If you need a gradient for a background or for UI elements but don’t feel confident enough to tackle the task yourself (or if you’re in a hurry), the color gradient generator which the folks at My Brand New Logo have created has got your back.

Powered by color gradient algorithms, the generator creates well-balanced gradients based on a color you select. There are four different styles of gradients that go from subtle to a mother-of-pearl effect and an intense, deep color gradient. You can adjust the gradient with sliders and, once you’re happy with the result, copy-paste the generated CSS code to use it in your project. Nice! (cm)

Collaborative Diagrams

Pen and paper are often hard to beat when you want to visualize an idea with a quick diagram. If you’re looking for a digital alternative that is just as straightforward and easy to use as your analog tools, you might want to check out Excalidraw.

Excalidraw is a virtual whiteboard that you can draw on. You can choose from a set of shapes, connect them with arrows or lines, add text, and color. There are some other styling options, too, but the tool is kept rather simple so that you can focus on what’s really important: visualizing your idea. A great feature that comes in especially handy now that a lot of teams work remotely: You can share a live-collaboration session with your team members or your clients. Export and save options are included, too, of course. (cm)

Mastering BEM Naming Conventions

BEM makes your code scalable and reusable, prevents it from becoming messy, and facilitates teamwork. However, even experienced CSS developers struggle with the naming conventions sometimes. To prevent you from getting lost in the BEM cosmos, the folks at 9elements put together the BEM Cheat Sheet with naming suggestions for some of the most common web components: breadcrumb navigation, buttons, cards, lists, tabs, form checkboxes, sidebars, and more.

If you want to dive in even deeper into the BEM methodology, Luke Whitehouse shares tips to tackle an ever-present issue in BEM: grandchildren, i.e. elements that are tied to another element, rather than to the block itself. Luke explores three different approaches to master the challenge: flattening the grandchildren and treating them as if they have no relation with their parent element, by creating new blocks, and by extending the BEM naming convention. A good read. (cm)

A Preserve For Classic Games

Do you feel nostalgic when you think of the video games you played back in the 80s and 90s? Well, why not take a little trip back to those days when games were just as much fun without the fancy effects they shine with today?

ClassicReload preserves more than 6,000 old retro games and abandoned OD/interfaces that you can play right in your browser. You can search for your favorite or browse the games by name, year, genre, and platform to discover something new. No matter if it’s The Oregon Trail, Prince of Persia, or Dangerous Dave you’ve been longing for for so long, if you’ve got a sweet spot for games, the site will keep you entertained for quite a while. (cm)

Managing HTML DOM And jQuery Alternatives

How do you manage HTML DOM with vanilla JavaScript only? Phuoc Nguyen collected 100 native DOM scripting snippets along with explanations on how to use them. The snippets are labeled by difficulty and range from basic (e.g. detecting if an element is focused) to more intermediate tasks like exporting a table to CSV and, finally, advanced use cases like creating a range slider.

Speaking of going vanilla: If you’re using jQuery in your projects, it might be a good idea to check if you actually need the additional dependency or if a few lines of utility code could do the trick. “You might not need jQuery” lists useful alternative code snippets that help you forgo jQuery. (cm)

Overly Descriptive Color Palettes

Have you ever considered combining snail-paced soft pink with unsealed mahogany and lousy watermelon as a color scheme for your next project? Well, what might sound a bit weird at first, is the concept behind colors.lol, a color inspiration site with “overly descriptive color palettes”, as its creator Adam Fuhrer describes it.

Created as a fun way to discover interesting color combinations, the palettes are hand-selected from the Twitter bot @colorschemez. The feed randomly generates color combinations and matches each color with an adjective from a list of over 20,000 words. Hiding behind the unusual names are of course real hex color values that you can use right away — #FDB0C0, #4A0100, and #FD4659 in the case of snail-paced soft pink and its fellas, for example. A fun take on color. (cm)

Flexible Repeating SVG Masks

Sometimes it’s a small idea, a little detail in a project that you tinker with and that you can’t let go off until you come up with a tailor-made solution to make it happen. Nothing that seems like a big deal at first glance, but that requires you to think outside the box. In Tyler Gaw’s case, this little detail was a flexible header with a little squiggle at the bottom instead of a straight line. The twist: to make the component future-proof, Tyler wanted to use a seamless, horizontal repeating pattern that he could color with CSS in any color he liked.

To get the job done, Tyler settled on flexible repeating SVG masks. SVG provides the shape, CSS handles the color, and mask-image does the heavy lifting by hiding anything in the underlying div that doesn’t intersect with the shape. A clever approach that can be used as the base for some fun experiments. (cm)

As a token of appreciation, Vitaly Friedman released his very own “Smart Interface Design Checklists”, a PDF deck with 150+ questions to ask when designing and building anything from hamburgers to carousels and tables. Subscribe to the newsletter below and get it in your inbox right away!

(cm, vf, ra, il)

Website Design & SEO Delray Beach by DBL07.co

Delray Beach SEO

source http://www.scpie.org/staying-connected-and-learning-from-each-other/ source https://scpie1.blogspot.com/2020/04/staying-connected-and-learning-from.html

[riichardwilson]

Staying Connected And Learning From Each Other

About The Author

Juggling between three languages on a daily basis, Iris is known for her love of linguistics, arts, web design and typography, as well as her goldmine of … More about Iris …

A month is a long time to stay on top of things. Here you’ll find an overview of everything we’ve been working on and have also enjoyed reading over the past month. Of course, you can always find us on Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn, and also stay updated with our RSS feed as well as our Smashing Newsletter (sent out every second week with all sorts of goodies!).

Digital space obviously has its challenges, but it also provides incredible opportunities for us to connect and learn in ways we just wouldn’t be able to do otherwise. The situation with COVID-19 has challenged us to consider ways in which we could offer a similar SmashingConf experience and access to experts just as in an in-person workshop — without needing to leave your desk.

With insightful takeaways, exercises, access to slides, recordings and friendly Q&As, it has been such an incredible experience already! We’ve had literally people from all over the world collaborating together on group exercises — something we’d never be able to achieve with an in-person event.

We’re looking forward to connecting with Brad Frost, Joe Leech, Miriam Suzanne and many others. Try spotting them, but don’t get too distratced by the Mouse!

And we’re just getting started! We already have a schedule of online workshops ready for you so you can start marking your calendars and join us anytime you like. What better way is there to boost your skills online and learn practical, actionable insights from experts in the industry — live!

Do you like what you see, but are worried about getting some time off from work? Well, you surely didn’t think we would leave your hanging? We know how difficult it can sometimes be, and so we’ve prepared a neat lil’ Convince-Your-Boss template to help you out. Good luck!

Ready For The Next Smashing Book?

That’s right! Paul Boag’s Click! Encourage Clicks Without Shady Tricks is currently in its final production stage and the pre-release starts on May 5. This practical guide has 11 chapters full of advice that can help you start improving your conversion rate in just a matter of simple steps. You can subscribe for a pre-order discount and be one of the first to get your hands on the book. Stay tuned!

Live UX Review With The Author

Next week, we’ll be hosting a Smashing TV webinar with Paul Boag who’ll be reviewing your websites and sharing some techniques you can use to improve conversion rates — without having to resort to any shady tricks. Tell me more →

As for the previous book, printed copies of The Ethical Design Handbook have made their way around the world, and we got to see some happy responses and thoughtful reviews. If you’d also like a copy, you can download a free PDF excerpt (5 MB) to get a first impression of the book — we’re sure you won’t be disappointed!

Also, in case you missed it, there is a Smashing Podcast episode featuring two of the authors of the book: Trine Falbe and Martin Michael Frederiksen. They discuss what it means for a design to be ethical, and how we can make improvements in our own projects.

Drew has also interviewed Laura Kalbag, Eduardo Bouças, Stéphanie Walter, and many more. You can subscribe and tune in anytime with any of your favorite apps!

Trending Topics On SmashingMag

We publish a new article every day on various topics that are current in the web industry. Here are some that our readers seemed to enjoy the most and have recommended further:

“Best Practices With React Hooks” by Adeneye David Abiodun This article covers the rules of React Hooks and how to effectively start using them in your projects. Please note that in order to follow this article in detail, you will need to know how to use React Hooks.

“Inspired Design Decisions With Herb Lubalin” by Andy Clarke How can we combine elements to develop powerful headers and calls to action? How do we use pre-formatted HTML text, and the text element in SVG for precise control over type? How can we optimise SVGs and make SVG text accessible? In this article, we’ll explore just that.

“Baking Structured Data Into The Design Process” by Frederick O’Brien Retrofitting search engine optimization only gets you so far. As metadata gets smarter, it’s more important than ever to build it into the design process from the start.

“How To Make Life Easier When Using Git” by Shane Hudson You don’t need to know your trees from your dangling blobs. If you use Git every day and feel like it’s a juggling act, then here are some tricks and tips to help make your life a bit easier.

Best Picks From Our Newsletter

We’ll be honest: Every second week, we struggle with keeping the Smashing Newsletter issues at a moderate length — there are just so many talented folks out there working on brilliant projects! Kudos to everyone involved!

Interested in sponsoring? Feel free to check out our partnership options and get in touch with the team anytime — they’ll be sure to get back to you right away.

Tips For Leading A Remote Team

Leading a remote design team can feel a bit daunting, especially if it’s your first time. Luckily, other people out there have found themselves in the same situation before and developed strategies to keep the team productive and effective, no matter where everyone might be located. Mark Boulton is one of them.

In light of recent events when many teams need to switch to remote work, Mark summarized some simple but useful approaches that have helped him leading remote teams for years. From continuing your team’s rituals to dealing with expectations on availability and coaching people through the ups and downs that working remotely brings along, Mark’s tips aren’t hard to adopt but they can make a real difference. (cm)

Getting To Grips With CSS Viewport Units

CSS Viewport units provide us with a way to size things in a fluid and dynamic way, without the need for JavaScript. If you haven’t gotten around to dive deeper into the topic yet, Ahmad Shadeed wrote a useful guide to CSS Viewport units.

Starting with a general overview of the viewport units vw, vh, vmin, and vmax, the guide covers how viewport units differ from percentages and explores practical use cases for viewport units and how to implement them in your projects. Just the push you might have needed to make the switch. (cm)

A Better File Uploader For The Web

Building a better file uploader for the web. That was the idea behind the JavaScript image uploader Uppload. Created by Anand Chowdhary, the image uploader is open-source and can be used with any file uploading backend. And with more than 30 plugins, it’s highly customizable, too.

Users can drag and drop their files to upload them or import from a camera, URL, or social media and a several other services (there’s even an option to take and upload a screenshot just by entering a URL). During the uploading process, users can apply effects to the images and adjust filters like brightness, contrast, and saturation. If that’s overkill for your project, you can select only what you need and treeshake the rest, of course. Uppload supports browsers down to IE10. Handy! (cm)

Open-Source Flip Counter Plugin

Do you want to count down to an event, visualize a fundraising campaign, or show a clock or sales counter? Then Rik Schennink’s Flip Counter might be for you. The plugin is open-source, mobile-friendly, easy to set up, and it gets by without any dependencies.

Apart from its ease of use and flexibility, Flip shines with the beautifully smooth animation that is used to flip the numbers on the cards. Depending on your use case, there are several presets that you can use as a starting point to build your flip counter. The visual style can be customized with CSS. A lovely little detail. (cm)

How To Write Good Email Code

Maybe you’ve been in that situation before where you had to code an HTML email but struggled with email code best practices. To help you master the challenge, Mark Robbins set up a library for good email code. You can simply copy and paste the code and use it in your emails or you can learn more about the theory behind it.

Priority lies in making sure the code is semantic, functional, accessible, and meeting user expectations, as Mark points out. Consistency between email clients and pixel perfect design are important, too, but always secondary. One for the bookmarks. (cm)

A Complete Solution For Tooltips, Popovers, And Dropdowns

If you’re looking for a quick and easy solution for tooltips, popovers, dropdowns, and menus, you might want to take a look at Tippy.js. The library provides the logic and styling involved in all types of elements that pop out from the flow of your document and get overlaid on top of the UI.

Tippy.js is optimized to prevent flipping and overflow, it’s WAI-Aria compliant, works in all modern browsers, and, so the promise, it even delivers high performance on low-end devices. You can style the elements with custom CSS and TypeScript is supported out of the box, too. Handy! (cm)

Open-Source Tool To Make Animated Product Mockups

What do you do when you’re missing a tool for a specific purpose? You build it yourself. That’s what Alyssa X did when she was looking for a tool to make animated GIFs and videos to showcase a product. Her take on the subject: Animockup.

With Animockup, you can showcase your product in action within a device mockup. Just drag some screen footage into the browser-based tool, and Animockup automatically places it into your desired mockup. You can add text, images, and adjust the styling, and choose from a selection of presets to optimize your mockup for sharing on Twitter, Dribble, Instagram and the like. A useful little helper. (cm)

Create CSS Color Gradients With Ease

Hand-picking colors to make a color gradient requires design experience and a good understanding of color harmony. If you need a gradient for a background or for UI elements but don’t feel confident enough to tackle the task yourself (or if you’re in a hurry), the color gradient generator which the folks at My Brand New Logo have created has got your back.

Powered by color gradient algorithms, the generator creates well-balanced gradients based on a color you select. There are four different styles of gradients that go from subtle to a mother-of-pearl effect and an intense, deep color gradient. You can adjust the gradient with sliders and, once you’re happy with the result, copy-paste the generated CSS code to use it in your project. Nice! (cm)

Collaborative Diagrams

Pen and paper are often hard to beat when you want to visualize an idea with a quick diagram. If you’re looking for a digital alternative that is just as straightforward and easy to use as your analog tools, you might want to check out Excalidraw.

Excalidraw is a virtual whiteboard that you can draw on. You can choose from a set of shapes, connect them with arrows or lines, add text, and color. There are some other styling options, too, but the tool is kept rather simple so that you can focus on what’s really important: visualizing your idea. A great feature that comes in especially handy now that a lot of teams work remotely: You can share a live-collaboration session with your team members or your clients. Export and save options are included, too, of course. (cm)

Mastering BEM Naming Conventions

BEM makes your code scalable and reusable, prevents it from becoming messy, and facilitates teamwork. However, even experienced CSS developers struggle with the naming conventions sometimes. To prevent you from getting lost in the BEM cosmos, the folks at 9elements put together the BEM Cheat Sheet with naming suggestions for some of the most common web components: breadcrumb navigation, buttons, cards, lists, tabs, form checkboxes, sidebars, and more.

If you want to dive in even deeper into the BEM methodology, Luke Whitehouse shares tips to tackle an ever-present issue in BEM: grandchildren, i.e. elements that are tied to another element, rather than to the block itself. Luke explores three different approaches to master the challenge: flattening the grandchildren and treating them as if they have no relation with their parent element, by creating new blocks, and by extending the BEM naming convention. A good read. (cm)

A Preserve For Classic Games

Do you feel nostalgic when you think of the video games you played back in the 80s and 90s? Well, why not take a little trip back to those days when games were just as much fun without the fancy effects they shine with today?

ClassicReload preserves more than 6,000 old retro games and abandoned OD/interfaces that you can play right in your browser. You can search for your favorite or browse the games by name, year, genre, and platform to discover something new. No matter if it’s The Oregon Trail, Prince of Persia, or Dangerous Dave you’ve been longing for for so long, if you’ve got a sweet spot for games, the site will keep you entertained for quite a while. (cm)

Managing HTML DOM And jQuery Alternatives

How do you manage HTML DOM with vanilla JavaScript only? Phuoc Nguyen collected 100 native DOM scripting snippets along with explanations on how to use them. The snippets are labeled by difficulty and range from basic (e.g. detecting if an element is focused) to more intermediate tasks like exporting a table to CSV and, finally, advanced use cases like creating a range slider.

Speaking of going vanilla: If you’re using jQuery in your projects, it might be a good idea to check if you actually need the additional dependency or if a few lines of utility code could do the trick. “You might not need jQuery” lists useful alternative code snippets that help you forgo jQuery. (cm)

Overly Descriptive Color Palettes

Have you ever considered combining snail-paced soft pink with unsealed mahogany and lousy watermelon as a color scheme for your next project? Well, what might sound a bit weird at first, is the concept behind colors.lol, a color inspiration site with “overly descriptive color palettes”, as its creator Adam Fuhrer describes it.

Created as a fun way to discover interesting color combinations, the palettes are hand-selected from the Twitter bot @colorschemez. The feed randomly generates color combinations and matches each color with an adjective from a list of over 20,000 words. Hiding behind the unusual names are of course real hex color values that you can use right away — #FDB0C0, #4A0100, and #FD4659 in the case of snail-paced soft pink and its fellas, for example. A fun take on color. (cm)

Flexible Repeating SVG Masks

Sometimes it’s a small idea, a little detail in a project that you tinker with and that you can’t let go off until you come up with a tailor-made solution to make it happen. Nothing that seems like a big deal at first glance, but that requires you to think outside the box. In Tyler Gaw’s case, this little detail was a flexible header with a little squiggle at the bottom instead of a straight line. The twist: to make the component future-proof, Tyler wanted to use a seamless, horizontal repeating pattern that he could color with CSS in any color he liked.

To get the job done, Tyler settled on flexible repeating SVG masks. SVG provides the shape, CSS handles the color, and mask-image does the heavy lifting by hiding anything in the underlying div that doesn’t intersect with the shape. A clever approach that can be used as the base for some fun experiments. (cm)

As a token of appreciation, Vitaly Friedman released his very own “Smart Interface Design Checklists”, a PDF deck with 150+ questions to ask when designing and building anything from hamburgers to carousels and tables. Subscribe to the newsletter below and get it in your inbox right away!

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