#update on our most unhinged child!

[legionofpotatoes]

experts around the world remain baffled at world’s prettiest cat also being its stupidest, somehow

[cozymoko]

plz make a part two of your Yandere Diabolik lovers x sister reader were yui discovers reader

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI pt. 2

Note: Of course, of course!

Btw; I had to stop this at some point before I lost all my sanity. I will update later.

Part one! synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers. This but part two.

Format: Scenario; 3rd person and 1st person (some)

Word Count: ???

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

CREAAKKK—!

An unpleasant sound tore through the air, loud and haste. “Oh, it seems they’ve returned,” [Name] sighs, slowly rising to her feet. “Come now, there’s no need to keep them waiting, is there?” Her words came off as more of a demand than an inquiry. Even so, it was not Yui’s place to refuse her.

The walk was short, but to Yui, it felt much longer. She struggled to keep up with the strong strides of the woman in front of her, as they were brisk and confident. Despite just barely looming over her (and her rococo dress), Yui had nearly slipped countless times. Oh, how embarrassing!

[Name] paid no mind to the trembling girl at her side, nor the thin layer of sweat sandwiched between their palms (thanks Yui). Her sleek pumps served as the perfect distraction for the eerie silence that fell between the two of them, and so did the audience so joyfully awaiting their arrival. Well, Yui's arrival.

A loud huff escaped the woman’s lips, for they had finally reached the end of the hallway. Excitement surged through the vampire’s veins like an unhinged drug, slowly eating away at her polite front. And with one swift motion, her palms collided with one another, their sound commanding the attention of the brothers.

“Boys, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She smiled.

Their reactions were rather strange, to say the least.

That's if they had one.

For what felt like the first time in history the boys were silent, like mice. Various of emotions were brewing amongst them, yet very few of them made it to their faces. Once growing bored of the silence, Laito let out a low whistle before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well this is definitely a surprise. Who would've thought the two of you would meet this soon~?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Reiji pushed Laito aside with a dismissive hand, gazing intently between the two girls before him. His lean arms tightly crossed along the front of his chest, waiting expectedly for a response.

Despite being at the mercy of the second eldest, Yui could not help but allow her mind to foolishly drift to the conversation she shared much earlier with the beautiful woman. [Name] Sakamaki, the one who'd seem to hold all the truths of this wretched place...

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Why do you continue to waste your time with them, with Shu?” Reiji had often asked me in our youth. Though we’re all related under that man, solely Reji, Shu, and I shared the same mother. Thus, we were arguably the closest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀As a child, Shu cared very little about being the heir, that much we knew. But my mother, Beatrice, wasn’t very pleased. The thought of the three of us not surpassing the others pained her greatly, and I often suffered for Shu’s defiance. I suppose Reiji took note of that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀That day, he took my hands in his own. “If you stick by me we can surpass them all,” He lamented, tucking a loose strand of hair away from my eyes. At that time, that was the most passionate I’d seen him. “We will no longer be overlooked, we can be together. Shu Won’t you join me?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀The offer was tempting, but my answer remained “No,” in the end. I knew, his motivates had very little virtue. Seeking validation at the demise of out own flesh and blood.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Reiji’s proposal was driven by resentment and envy. That I could not condone.

The clearing of Reiji's throat brought the girl back to reality. From the looks of it, his patience had been wearing incredibly thin. Poor girl, thinking everyone will help her in life. With a woman so well-spoken at her side she must've expected her to take the lead. How foolish!

Glancing to her side, Yui's eyes widened; frightened and in utter bewilderment. The woman she had met merely hours ago was watching her, also waiting for the mortal's response. She alone could get away with being silent, but Yui could not.

Angst had begun to well up in her stomach in the form of warm bile. Her lips drew into a taut line, swallowing her anxiousness as well as she could. Even so, that was not enough. Sensing its arrival, the girls was quick to place a hand over her mouth. Further and further it crawled; closer and closer it drew.

But of course, someone came to her ‘rescue’.

“I'm also curious~!” Laito chimed, that same sing-song playfulness was laced in his tone. Yet there was some malice lying deep beneath it. “You just had to go and stick your nose in other peoples’ business didn’t ya, little bitch? I warned you already; what a shame~!”

His eyes flashed a quick tint of red, narrowing ever so slightly. Laito circled the girl, who's expression mimicked that of a caged mammal. It was a laughable sight, her anguish and fear. And to some, Laito's disdain may have been far more entertaining. However, [Name] knew better than to let this go on for much longer.

In one swift motion, [Name] had swept the mortal to her side, successfully out of her brother’s grasp. In her eyes, it was just an accident waiting to happen. That look in his eyes was one she'd been well acquainted with from a young age.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Now Laito is an interesting one. He wasn’t unbearable, that I can admit. There was just a bit of clinginess and I suppose he was a bit selfish at times. Nonethenless, I loved spending my time with him, there was never a dull moment.

⠀⠀⠀⠀That was in the beginning.

⠀⠀⠀⠀As we were approaching our “teenage years”, his behavior had become rather bizarre. All my friends at the time, male or female, had begun to disappear: one by one. I remember running home and sobbing to my brothers, asking what was wrong with me. What had I done wrong? That boy is surely Cordelia’s son, for they manipulate all the same.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“It’s okay, [Name], don't cry!”  Laito had been quick to comfort me, rubbing comforting circles into my back. “I hate to see you like this but it's your fault.” He scolded me very often.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“The world is filled with ugly people who want to take you from those who love and care about you as I do. Now, come with big brother. Let's get you cleaned up, you’ve stained your new dress~!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀It was evident, my naivety at the time. My mother had regarded me as a fool for lacking better judgment for the words of others. Looking back on it, I suppose that witch was right about something. Laito had successfully filled my head with lies, leading my dependency to increase tenfold.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Hah, what a bastard. Yet I cannot bring myself to hate him despite his actions. Perhaps it's due to his upbringing? The abuse he went through in comparison to mine? Hm, what do you think Yui?

A sharp pain shot through the hip of the mortal girl, the connection of another one, pulling her from her thoughts once more. “No need to punish this one, I quite like her.” [Name] cooed, rubbing her cheek against Yui’s. “It’s been so long since I've last talked to a girl my age. Can’t you just let me enjoy this opportunity?”

Though your question came off as more of a statement, it had somehow managed to detear him. You in no way needed their approval to do as you pleased, but seeing as the sacrificial bride already knows of your existence, what's the harm in roaming around a bit?

Reiji’s face contorted in pure disgust, “Absolutely not—”

“Hah- Pancake? Why her?” The redhead threw his arms up in exasperation, he was baffled rightfully so. “Man, and here I thought Kanato would be the most annoying bastard I’d have to deal with.”

Reiji didn't look pleased in the slightest at the interruption, as hypocritical as it is. Yet he kept his lips sealed. His mood had visibly soured, and by the looks of it he's not the only one.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I swore those two would’ve killed one another if not for my interference. They absolutely loathed the idea of sharing me, let alone my time. Somehow that had not been Ayato’s biggest issue. I’m sure you’re surprised.

⠀⠀⠀⠀No matter what we did or the few events Father took us to, Ayato always had to be the best. Initially, I thought it’d be for Cordelia’s approval but I couldn’t be more incorrect. He wanted me to see him, see the success he displayed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Regardless, of how much I congratulated him, he wanted more. His stunts became more extreme. His motives were no longer crystal clear. There were times I found him antagonizing his brothers in hopes that I would scold him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thankfully, he managed to even out over the years. Even if it was only a little bit. Ayato is still competing with our brothers, mainly Kanato, but old habits die hard. Especially for people like Ayato.

"Sister!" He wailed, glaring at Ayato through misty, dewy eyes. "Are you going to let him speak to me like that?"

Streams of tears began to descend down his fair skin. If not for the bags beneath his eyes, one could say he looked like a doll. With his free hand he pointed accusingly at the older triplet, using his other arm to clutch the teddy bear closely to his chest.

“Fight your own damn battles for once!” Ayato scowled. “You're always running and bitching to her about the dumbest shit."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Kanato, my dear older brother Kanato.

⠀⠀⠀⠀His clinginess never ceased to amaze me. Despite Kanato being older than me by at least three years, it often felt like I was his older sister, comforting and consoling him as his pitiful mother had failed to do.

⠀⠀⠀⠀If anyone were to hog my attention the most, it'd be him. We met when I was four, and at first he didn't really like me because “Babies are loud and gross!” But he changed his mind in the future, clearly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The way he used to scream and shout when I spent time with the others was hilarious. Sometimes, I even detour bad for laughing at him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Uu...You love Ayato more, don't you?” He sobbed, gripping the hem of my frilled, violet dress. “Thats why you're leaving, you're going to play with him!”

“Shut the hell up, all of you!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀I cannot count the times I spent feeding his clinginess, enabling him. I never truly became close with Ayato until a year later because of it. It's a shame, truly. And honestly, he's no better now as I'm sure you already know.

Here we go again. [Name] sighed internally.

There, hiding in the shadows, stood Subaru Sakamaki. His arms were crossed securely along his chest, whilst his cherry red hues narrowed in discontent. His lips were pulled into a taut line, just barely exposing his fangs.

“You're the loudest one!” Kanato cried out, sending a glare of his own to the distant male. His nails began to dig in his skin just enough to leave little crescents in its place.

"Eh—?" Subaru pushed himself off the wall, pale fingers coiling into tight fists. “What the hell are you on about? Tch, you're a fuc—"

Admist the chaos, his frantic faze hadlanded on [Name], lingering just bit. The shock on his face was evident, as though his heart had dropped at the sight. Almost immediately, the corner of his mouth dips into a deep frown, shame slowly flooding his being.

He averted his gaze, finding his sheen coating of his boots to be rather interesting. Nonetheless, he could not dare to meet the eyes of his beloved sister, the ones burning and simmering through him like a heated torch.

This was a sight, [Name] hadn't seen from the young Sakamaki more than two times, counting. Seeing how they often visited one at a time, on their own accord, there was no true reason to do such. Yet, there went this perfect facade he tried so desperately to hold together; crumbling into thousands of pieces, collapsing at the feet of his beloved sister. The one he'd give the world to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀And Subaru, I couldn’t help but coddle him. He’s the only one younger than me, and the only child of Christa at that. I thought I could perhaps be the older sibling he needed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Why do you have to leave?” Short, fragile arms had made a home around my waist. Despite his lack of muscle, his grip was almost bone-crushing. “Can't we just stay together?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Times were tough, my family which had once felt whole was gradually being torn apart like an old, tattered piece of cloth. I’d spent most of my days with Subaru, he was the youngest so I thought he might need extra support. And I couldn’t help but coddle him. Unfortunately, that caused him to grow a bit too dependent on me.

“Fufu, Subaru, it's so nice of you to finally join us~!” Laito breathes out sarcastically, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He’d always do this when it was time for me to return to my mother, frankly, it broke my heart each time.

“No, it's really not,” Kanato frowned. “leave already.”

“That's the only thing I'll agree with him on.” Ayato cackled, hoisting himself onto the back of the vacant loveseat. “Why do you always have to be so damn loud? I'm the star of the show; Yours Truly.”

“Shut the hell up already! No one calls you that!” Subaru snarls, picking up a nearby vase. Poor thing.

“Can't you all just be mature for once?” Reiji sighs, and yet it doesn't take away from the vein in his neck practically threatening to burst.

“Heh, I should've known you wouldn't listen,” The champagne-haired man chuckled humorlessly. “Troublesome woman.”

The blonde blinked rapidly, as though surprised at the idea of her being addressed. Knowing the closeness of the two, she didn't think it would happen. Instinctively, she gripped the ends of her brown shorts, nervous and without an answer.

Shu merely chuckled, drawing his attention to the woman kneeling by his side. His youngest sister; his only sister.

“Yui,” [Name] called, reaching out to gently grab her hand. “Do you remember what I told you earlier?”

“U-um...huh?”

Yui hadn't noticed it before, despite the stories she'd listened to from the kind woman. But the two of them shared some uncanny resemblance. In face shape and hues alike. Both were gifted the same soft blue eyes, cold yet vivid in color; mimicking the tranquil waters freezing over in an unforgiving winter.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Mother look! We all have the same eyes!” Shu shouted, shifting on the balls of his feet in sheer excitement.

⠀⠀Upon my birth, Shu had never been happier. This was before he became so cold, so it wasn't that far fetched at the time. I remember mother shushing him for being too loud around me when I was a baby. But that didn't seem to stop him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“It feels nice to look like someone for once,” He mumurs, lightly poking the plush flesh of your stomach. A soft smile overtook his lips as your giggled at his antics. “Well, besides mom, but she doesn't count!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Our mother always said we looked like twins, hah, at least a little. Our eyes were the same, and our face shapes were too. The first and the sixth born being so alike was truly an anomaly to us all, but I suppose that's what makes it amusing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Surprisingly enough, my hair was a similar to his when I was younger too. Though it wasn't that noticeable, in my mind. Faint, platinum strands littered among the rest of my hair. Everything else, was all my own. That's all I had to my name in comparison to Shu.

“So noisy,” Shu moved to place his other earbud in, allowing his pale lashes to flutter over his cold eyes. He released the hand of his younger sister, finally giving her the ability to move once more.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“I'll protect you, forever, [Name].” Shu grins, craddling you in his small arms. “I won't let them hurt you like they tried to hurt me. We can be happy; you'll be happy. I promise.”

[Name] shrugged at his laziness. It was nothing new. Leaning over, she poked at his cheeks, digging into the softness hidden deep within them. “Stop.”

“Hah, no way!”

Yui could not help but admire the scene before her; it was warm and sweet. Bickering amongst the six was not a rare occurrence, yet something about this seemed different. (Even if Subaru threw a vase at Ayato) The air around them felt light and clear, the boy’s faces looked to be much younger and youthful. Almost as though she was peering into their past.

Sighing, [Name] raised to her feet, placing her hand upon the curve of her hip. Her cheeks were lightly puffed out, upset, after Shu had swatted her hand away. “Ahem,” She cleared her throat.

Silence.

“Now, you all know how much I hate seeing you fight.” She started, slowly approaching Yui (standing by the door). “Without me.”

“W-what?!” Yui cried out.

“I want to be involved too! It's been so long since we've all been in the same room.” [Name] smiled mischievously, running her manicured nails along Yui's slim arm. “So, let's have some fun.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀I know what you might be wondering. Why did they keep me in this room? If they love me so much then why did they act the way they did? The answer is simple really, it wasn’t their choice (entirely).

“Catch us if you can!” She shouted, making a beeline down the long, dark hallway. “C'mon Yui!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite being the only one to comfort them when they were down, hug and nurture them with genuine worry - love. Ever since my father proposed the idea of a sacrificial bride, I was tucked away. He feared I would influence them far too much and they wouldn’t be able to rise to their ‘fullest potential’. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀Realistically speaking, they just had to come to terms with that.

“Yui,” [Name] says, gently clasping the mortal’s hand once more. A small smile tugged at her painted lips. “Don't think you're safe because of my arrival. You'll surely be feeling the affects later on.”

“W-what?!”

[Name] merely giggled, loud and filled with glee; ignoring the question of her mortal friend. “Run, quickly, before they catch up!” Kicking off her troublesome heels, the woman dragged her down the hall. Their hands locked tightly in one another, and their smiles sewn onto their faces.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THE END!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

[camille-lachenille]

End of the Year Fic Rec

I was tagged by @echo-bleu and @dreamingthroughthenoise and it was very difficult to select only five fics for each category but here's my Must Read fanfics list, mostly Silmarillion but with a few LotR and one Hobbit. Also, I cheated at some point so you have one more fic rec as a treat

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

We will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin

Summary: Elrond and Elros are sent to live with their distant cousins in a house that is crumbling slowly to pieces. They aren't especially happy about this. For Maedhros and Maglor, the twins are a rare chance to start living again.

Why you should read it: This is a whimsical, heartwarming yet bittersweet at times story about finding one’s place in a new world and what makes a family, grappling with the ghosts of the past and the pain of being a child left behind. Also the most exquisitely written modern AU (the style is just chef's kiss!) I’ve read so far, 100% recommend it!

Maglor is an Eldritch Horror by @thescrapwitch

Summary: After thousands of years singing to the sea, Maglor has become something strange and terrifying. But he still loves his family, and his family still loves him.

Why you should read it: Sometimes, family is a Half-Elf, his wife, their children, a shy and whimsical bard and the Eldritch kidnap grandfather who haunts the house; or how to write slightly creepy fluff. This series is pure heartwarming material and giving Elrond the happiness he desserves.

The Day the Horse-Lord wed the Lady of the Seas by @colinnoahmayhare (rated M)

Summary: After the War of the Ring, Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, finds herself at the receiving end of the search for peace and prosperity by being used as a pawn in an alliance made between kings and princes. Married to the King of the Riddermark, Éomer, she has to navigate being a foreigner in a foreign country, being a Queen to a King, and to learn to live and love with a man she hardly knows.

Why you should read it: This story is an intricate, gut wrenching exploration of what happens in Rohan after the War of the Ring, featuring delightful worldbuilding, lots of politics, revenge and honour. Now with Familial TraumaTM and Couple AngstTM for extra flavour!

And the Stars Shine the Same by @runawaymun (rated M)

Summary: After the Éothéod revolt against the Wainriders, the northern tribes seek to form strong alliances with their neighbors. Lord Frumgar tasks his son Fram to lead the delegation to Imladris. With him, he brings gold, fine horses, and two young thralls chosen by his father to be given to Lord Elrond himself. Elrond is conflicted to say the least.

Why you should read it: Do you like pre-canon Third Age history? Do you like worldbuilding about a few names from the Appendixes of LotR? Do you like found family and Good Dad Elrond? Do you like complex characters learning how to live with their traumas? This story is for you! (Just mind the warnings in the tags)

The ghost you dress up as (knows how to haunt) by @deadqueernoldor (rated M)

Summary: Maedhros was not the first Finwëan to be captured and taken to Angband, nor did he remain there the longest. Ranyatinwë, twin of Caranthir, was the first.

Why you should read it: Tinwë is such a complex character, 50% spite and 50% trauma, and this whole story is so, so promising already! (Really, you should read all the Strength of our Bonds series for extra unhinged, spiteful and unrepentant kinslayer Tinwë. I support women’s rights but in Tinwë’s case I firmly support women’s wrongs). This is pure post-Angband angstfest and dysfunctional siblings caring for each other in their weird way. If angst can be a comfort story, I found it.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Life in Miniature by @thescrapwitch

Summary: Turgon uses his hobby of building cities to recreate Gondolin, this time on a much smaller scale.

Why you should read it: For re-embodied Finwëan rebuilding their relationships as they work together on a miniature city; a heartwarming and really nice metaphor.

Hearth Fire by @dreamingthroughthenoise

Summary: Findis and Feanor speak before the Flight of the Noldor and share in their grief the best they can.

Why you should read it: Because there are so few stories centered around Findis and her feelings about her family and this one is so interesting and well written. Also, Findis is my Blorbo and everyone should read about her until they're consumed by the Blorbo.

your veins are empty of dust by @echo-bleu

Summary: Anairë finds her late one day in her workshop, surrounded by slabs of stone larger than her. Nerdanel is hammering forcefully at one of them, the barest hints of an elven shape already taking form in the marble. Bitter, stinging tears run down her cheeks and into her collar, and her arms ache with exhaustion.

The body is only barely sketched, but the face is already chiselled, smooth curves and angular cheekbones.

Fëanáro emerges out of the marble, looking like he’s about to take life.

Why you should read it: For a heartbreaking dive into Nerdanel's grief, her friendship with Anairë and how Nerdanel's art becomes her way to cope with loneliness and grief.

see it fall, child of war by @swanmaids

Summary: Elwing's time runs out.

Why you should read it: Because these may be the 740 most impactful words I've read about Elwing since I discovered the Silm fandom.

soldier keep on marching on (waiting on that morning sun) by songofswiftsunrise

Summary: Boromir lives. The world is the smallest bit brighter for it.

Why you should read it: Do I need a more convincing argument than what the summary says? Boromir lives and everyone is happier. I love a good fix-it and this one is very well written indeed.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies.)

The Carpenter’s Son by Zimra (rated M, warning for rape/non-con)

Summary: An untold story of conquered Dor-lómin, in which an Easterling carpenter has a child by his Hadorian slave.

Why you should read it: This story explores in a very interesting way a par of canon that is almost never mentionned (except in the Narn). The main character is attaching and I really cared for her and her son. The hindsights in the slavers' minds are chilling with their realism and this whole story is just so well written. Also, it ends on a note of hope.

And what I am needs no excuses by aurembiaux

Summary: Sam has always been in love with Frodo. It's only that it takes him forty years to realize that he is.

Why you should read it: Probably the most heartwarming and relatable self-discovery story I’ve ever read; set in England from the WWII to the 80’s, with all the social changes that happened in this time period. Featuring Supportive Dad (and Friend) Sam as the main character and a whole bunch of introspection. One of my all time comfort read!

Mark of a Warrior by starryeyedknight

Summary: After the funeral for Theoden, Merry wakes up to a problem experienced by many a young man after a night of heavy drinking. The ink on his arm doesn't appear to be washing off… 

Why you should read it: This one shot explores the relationships Merry formed with the RIders of Rohan, the grief he has in common with them and how he found his place amongst the riders, all of this with delightful humour and lightness despite the initial situation.

Dancing with my punchlines by LiveOakWithMoss (rated M)

Summary: In which the sons of Fëanor throw house parties, the beer is terrible, 20-something hipster elves act like their drama is as bad as it is in canon, and macking on cousins is fair game.

Why you should read it: If you like a good old modern AU with tons of drama of various sorts, amazing ace representation and general Finwëans shenanigans, this is the story for you.

Old Maggie Took by @deadqueernoldor

Summary: The headcanon about Maglor, second son of Fëanor, lives hidden in the Shire? Yes.

Why you should read it: My ultimate comfort read series; featuring mouth-watering descriptions of food, kidnadopted fam and Maglor being an overgrown hobbit and trolling everyone in ME and Valinor. This is fluffy, this is silly, this is prefect.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Dreams of Doom (rated M, warning for Major Character Death)

Summary: “She runs in the dark, alone. Where her feet carry her, she knows not, and her heart is heavy with dread. Someone - something - is watching her.”

Niënor from the moment she arrives in Brethil to her death.

Why you should read it: Because this fic is my firsborn child and I am insanely proud of it, especially since I went so out of my comfort zone to write it. It features two of my obscure blorbos and I poured my soul into it.

Ice Age(s)

Summary: Ice skating through the ages, from Idril learning with her grandfather to Elrond perpetuating the familial tradition.

Why you should read it: This is a fluffy fic, mostly, and it's also a gift for the amazing @echo-bleu. I also wrote it in a sort of trance in the middle of the night, passed out the moment I posted it and had no memory whatsoever of what I had written upon waking up in the morning, yet I still love this fic dearly.

I never wanted to walk in your steps

Summary: Tilda was ten, the same age Sigrid was at her birth, and her world was collapsing more than when Smaug had destroyed Laketown.

Why you should read it: Because I privately call this fic Hobbit angstfest. I took a sad, doomed ship and asked myself "how can I make it sadder?"

ar ámen apsenë úcaremmar

Summary: Few know of Findis the Faithful, eldest daughter of Finwë, who never lost hope for her family.

Why you should read it: I took my obscure blorbo and set her in a medieval-ish AU. It's sad and a little hopeful too and there's a lot of Quenya interspaced through the story.

Quiet morning in Gondolin

Summary: Idril and Eärendil spend some time together before the city wakes up.

Why you should read it: I'll put the link to the beautiful art that inspired this ficlet and let it speak for me.

And I tag everyone I tagged in this post who hasn’t already done this fics rec tag

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 1

Basically exactly what it says on the tin! I kept making notes while I was reading and somehow it grew into this sprawling monstrosity that had to be split into three parts haha. In short: I loved this book, 10/10 incredibly gay and full of yearning Garak is there the whole time would recommend. 

Quotes from the book in normal text, my reflections, reactions and self-indulgent bits in italics :) Please, please only click on that read-more if you're ready for some truly long-winded nonsense, I fear I have gone and been extremely myself about this and I can only beg your forbearance for it while I get it out of my system lol

Part 2, Part 3

- My dear Doctor:

Forgive my delay in responding to your kind communications. I wanted to give this modest chronicle I’ve enclosed a modicum of organization and update it before I sent it on to you. Thank you for your concern. I have thought of you often since our last meeting, and I am pleased to hear that your life on Deep Space 9 remains challenging and productive. Considering all the changes that have taken place I would have expected nothing less. And I’m certainly not surprised that your research proposals have been accepted. You’re a brilliant young scientist—even if you are genetically enhanced. As for my life here …

This is such a deceptively innocuous and normal-sounding beginning to what is about to be an extremely unnormal and unhinged thing to send a friend as a letter. He made it all of one paragraph of keeping it chill and I honestly think that’s pretty impressive all things considered. Thankfully Julian Bashir — who, let’s not forget, gave Jadzia his fucking diaries to read after much shorter acquaintanceship than what what we’re operating on here — is possibly the one person in the galaxy with the unhinged energy to take it.  

(‘I have thought of you often’ he says. And how., as we shall see)

- Yes—I’m afraid you weren’t expecting this response to your kind inquiry; it goes a bit further than “Greetings from Cardassia—Wish you were here.”

Fhksjdfhasdkj well. In spirit that is exactly what you’re saying tho garak fhdskjaas. It’s just that you’re also pathologically incapable of shutting the hell up and for this I love and treasure you. 

- So why Captain Sisko is so upset with me because I accomplished the goal (which he established!) of getting Romulus into the war against the Dominion baffles me. And it’s not because of the few lives that were sacrificed. Federation expansion has taken a toll in countless life-forms—about most of which they are blissfully unaware. The moment you step into a garden and begin to cultivate and prune, you become a killer. Perhaps the captain was upset because he had hesitated to do what was necessary to insure the integrity of his garden. Sentimentality is another trait that makes humans dangerous.

*Garak voice* Julian please tell me why your boss is so mad at me I literally solved all his problems for him. for which he’s wELCOME btw

Eyes open for recurring metaphors about gardeners, Tolan is haunting this narrative and it’s only polite to say hello whenever he shows up

- Indulge me, if you will; I need you as a witness.

Can I just say how fucking wild it is in terms of character development for Garak to openly admit he needs someone interpersonally. Incredibly fucked up that he writes both parts of this directly to Julian, though — both the part where he’s pretty sure he’s going to die trying to free Cardassia from the Dominion, and the ‘now’ timeline on post-war Cardassia where he seems to be dazedly coming to the realization that he might live, actually, and what that means to him. 

- As a child I would go to the Tarlak Sector with Father, and while he supervised his crews I’d play by myself amid the black-and-white angularity of the monuments, imagining myself a great gul or legate giving the funeral oration for a fallen comrade. 

Already we are starting to spot the thread, if you’ll excuse the expression, of why Garak might be Like That

I also came to admire Damar’s idealism, which led him to renounce his allegiance to the Dominion. If he had one weakness it was his propensity for long-winded speeches. But given the fact that none of us are perfect, the man would have made a fine leader.

As I stood at the memorial service, I thought about all the grand affairs I had witnessed here when I was a boy. None of our famed heroes and statesmen has ever had such a humble service—and none of them, from Tret Akleen on, deserved more than Corat Damar.

You are a species of long-winded speakers and Pythas Lok 

- Dr. Parmak, the unit leader, worked furiously to stabilize the little girl, and when she was evacuated by the transport unit he broke down. He’s a very good man, this Dr. Parmak; he reminds me of an older version of you, Doctor. 

Introducing Dr. Kelas Parmak, last seen in the then-noodle incident mentioned in The Die is Cast. Quite possibly the chillest person who has ever lived, considering he gets over the whole thing where Garak like tortured him pretty fast. (To be fair Garak DID say he was sorry. Between this case and Odo’s, that apparently goes a surprisingly long way lol) 

- But Garak, you’ll say, there’s no excuse for killing a defenseless woman. And there isn’t… unless you’ve been brought up in our system.

I love that he keeps a little Julian around in his head to talk to at all times. That’s one of the most freakishly intimate things in this whole book of freakish intimacy. Garak has a little Tain on one shoulder and a little Julian on the other shoulder and they have heated debates as to the validity of murder as a solution to any given problem that’s put before him

- I also thought about this Cardassian sense of duty and how it is largely responsible for bringing those of us who are left to these current circumstances. I asked Dr. Parmak how an entire people can come under the sway of this duty and blindly give allegiance to a state that goes mad and murders its own children.

“Poisonous pedagogy, Elim,” he replied. “We believe what we are taught.”

Poison/Disease contagion is a metaphor that will wind through this whole thing,and different people mean different things by it. Parmak means it about The Facism, which is the right one. You’ll be unsurprised to hear that Dukat Sr. has a rather different spin on it, and that he’s wrong! 

- But Tain at home was anything but mysterious. It was not unusual for Uncle Enabran to appear and take me away on some excursion that involved a long walk through a section of the city. During these walks he’d test my awareness, and challenge me to describe a house or a person we’d just passed. If I hadn’t been paying attention and couldn’t remember the details, the walk was over and we’d silently return home under the oppressive weight of his disapproval. He also seemed to know how I was performing at school, and if he wasn’t satisfied with my progress or behavior he’d punish me. I was a hard worker but I had a mischievous streak, and I enjoyed getting others involved in questionable activities and arranging it so they were found out and took the blame. On those rare occasions when I was caught, Tain would somehow find out and punish me—not for my misdeed, but for having been caught. And after he discovered my fear of small, dark spaces, his favorite punishment became keeping me in one until I had convinced him that I had analyzed and fully understood how my mischievous scheme had gone wrong. I found it odd that Mother and Father never had anything to say about these punishments.

. . . 

At first I thought I was in trouble, and my face must have reflected this fear because Father attempted to reassure me with a forced smile. But the uncharacteristic falsity of his behavior and his barely concealed agitation only made the situation worse. I had never seen him like this. Mother’s face was a mask; it revealed nothing. She spoke as if I needed to clean off the day’s work before we ate.

Garak treats him and Bashir ‘drifting apart’ the same way he describes his young self being trained by Tain to go over his ‘mistakes’ — what did I do wrong? You also see it (almost most heartbreakingly to me) from Tolan when he gets sharper out of worry at the end of the scene where the agent comes to take Garak away to the Bamarren Institute: 

I was stunned. I wanted to ask more, I wanted to ask about the dedication ceremony that afternoon, but I didn’t dare. Father had that look when one of the workers didn’t get it right the first time. But what had I done wrong? 

Oh buddy. He’s so fucking confused. The only thing you’ve done wrong yet is having been born with some connection to Enabran Tain, Elim, I’m so sorry

- We were the “missing pieces”—and in order to find our place in the mosaic of civilized society, we had to be broken down and reconstructed from the bottom up.

Keep your eyes open for ‘broken down and reconstructed’ too, it will be on the final test lol

- The good captain gave me one of his bemused stares.

Sisko ILU. He’s not in this book a lot so I’ll take the chance to say it here, because I do. 

- It was explained to us that until we became disciplined in our relations with the “complementary gender” we would make better progress this way. When I asked One Tarnal how we would learn this discipline without interaction between the sexes, he blinked and mumbled something about “distractions.” When I asked what that meant I was told that I had a loose mouth and given five days of hygiene-chamber maintenance as punishment.

“You don’t know enough to ask so many questions.”

Elim 'Genuinely & Guilelessly Too Deeply Pansexual To Be Able To Follow This Logic’ Garak

- Pythas/Eight descriptions because this is a bad mutual crush situation: 

- Unfortunately, the only student left was quiet Eight Lubak, who kept completely to himself. He agreed to accompany me and quickly moved to the door. He was short and slender, and his dark eyes and long lashes made him look younger than the rest of us. He was almost too delicate for a Cardassian. I was not encouraged … but I had no choice.

‘Dark eyes and long lashes’ huh lol

I started to follow him, but he made it clear that I should stay where I was and wait. All during this, Eight was quiet and controlled—and as sure of himself as if he’d done this many times. How did he know where he was going?

. . .

His face was dark, intense with concentration; his brow ridges, which were unusually pronounced, cast shadows over his eyes. My heart began to pound when I realized what Eight was planning. These were certain to be older students, but he expressed no hesitation, no doubt.

. . .

I didn’t know then if I could ever call Eight a friend. Something about him was strange and impenetrable. But it didn’t matter. At least I knew there was one person in my section I could trust. How I had misjudged him. It was obvious that Eight had what Cardassians call a ferocious spirit—and that I could learn a great deal from him.

. . .

Eight also came from a “service�� family background, and it was soon clear to everyone that he should have been designated One Lubak, a fact not lost on the actual holder of that designation who, judging from his behavior and speech, came from the highest echelons of our society.

. . .

Five was an athlete who also did well in class. I could see that he was attracted to Eight. As indeed I was. 

Big round of applause for Andrew Robinson managing to sneak the skywritten subtext into the text like this, it’s an exceedingly rare gift to get to have from the media of this time 

. . .

But by then the group had passed. What murk? Me? Have all the others been captured? Surely not Eight. I couldn’t believe that was possible.

. . .

The only member of my group who performed as well in all areas was the taciturn Eight.

. . .

The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

. . .

Eight remained for a few more minutes. I had the feeling that he wanted to say something more to me. Suddenly he turned and disappeared behind a barrier. The air was filled with whatever went unsaid. He was as shy as anyone I had ever known.

The boys are being useless lesbians at each other omg……… what must this whole mess look like from Pythas’ POV tho. He’s been keeping an eye on his friend/crush so he doesn’t get himself killed by running his mouth off too much to the wrong person and before he knows it the guy is embroiled in an inadvisable bisexual sandwich of betrayal and savage intrigue. I wonder if anything would have been different if Garak and Pythas had managed to actually talk to each other here.   

- Eight was the only person who deserved number One as much as I did—maybe more. My solitary behavior was not always in service to the group. Eight and I exchanged encouraging looks. The support of my one constant friend was all I wanted. I sat there and shut out everything else.

*Garak whenever someone prefers Pythas over him* understandable honestly I’d do the same thing he’s the best have a nice day

End Pythas/Eight teen crush corner

- My mind wandered. I was sure that I heard sounds of the women students gusting with the winds. Suddenly mother materialized … she looked like she was apologizing. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, but her image dissolved and … Father took her place. I knew he was telling me something very important, but I was growing dizzy and afraid that I’d join Six on the ground … his words were carried away by the winds.

Suffering and agony

Some assorted 'Just assure me that I'm not going mad, Doctor'/Garak's ever-tenuous grip on his mental health moments:

-I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised that he knew. Instead, I was grateful; it told me I wasn’t going mad.

A recurring worry for him I’m sure it means nothing! I feel the same fellowship with him as I do with Harrow in The Locked Tomb series, which I’m sure says even less, don’t worry about it.  

And how do we even begin to rebuild a world that doesn’t exist anymore? A world that exists in my mind with the same arid bitterness as the dust in my mouth. I have never lived with despair, Doctor, the way I live with it now. It’s almost like a phantom companion that shadows me and casts doubt on whatever I do.

“Why save him?” it asks, as we remove a young boy from the rubble of a school. “You’re only keeping him alive for a future of privation and chaos. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to join the burial unit?”

I want to scream at this phantom, to shut it up. Once I turned around suddenly and raised my hand to strike it. When I realized it wasn’t there, it was too late. Everyone in the unit was looking at me; I’m sure I must have looked like a madman. Dr. Parmak tried to send me home, but I refused—alone it’s even worse.

I’m just imagining Julian arriving on Cardassia like ‘hey yeah I got your letter and we should fuck about it right now but first of all have you told Parmak you’ve been having vivid hallucinations again because that’s very relevant medical information Garak!!!’ 

- But it was in the Pit and my work with Calyx that I suffered the most. My dreaming made me “an air man.”

“You have no grip, no focus. How can you find your strength if you can’t hold your place? Living in your dreams is like living in exile.”

*whisper* pls don't...

- As I tried to put faces on the shadowy children, they began to approach me. They became more distinct as they moved through the rain and haze. Can you believe it, Doctor? They weren’t my schoolmates; they were the Cardassian orphans from the Resettlement Center on Bajor we once visited. The orphans left after the Cardassian occupation forces withdrew. The same young girl was their leader and her lips formed the same question.

Have you come to take us home?

I jumped up. I felt the shed closing in, threatening to swallow me. I ran out into the rain and gloom.

“There is no home anymore! Can’t you see that? Look around you! It’s gone!” I screamed at them and fell to my knees in the sodden waste. They continued to stare back with that same look of fragile trust that I would somehow relieve them of their fear and bring them home. I couldn’t look at them anymore and dropped down into the muck. My despair was no longer just a voice; it was this monstrous world the evil had created, and it surrounded and overwhelmed me.

I don’t know how long I remained curled up in the mud. I felt myself being lifted and half carried, half dragged back into my shed. It was Dr. Parmak. He cleaned and changed me as best he could. He prepared a cup of Tarkalean tea, which made me think of you, Doctor. How ironic, another doctor pulls old Elim out of the muck of his despair, but this time he’s a Cardassian.

The fact that in the episode itself, Garak (in a haze of endorphins and practiced dissociation) is barely like ‘yes yes I’m sure we’re ALL very upset about the orphans. Or whatever. Well what do you want me to do about it Doctor it’s just the way of the world’ and then it just haunts him horrifically for the rest of his life forever and ever the end! Very on brand.  

Garak does seem to genuinely like and care for children in general, which makes my heart all weird and sad

Also Parmak making Tarkalean tea and Garak being like ‘oh. Like Julian :’(‘ about it my HEART. The fact that he’s a serial befriender of very patient kindhearted doctors willing to put up with his nonsense is probably the only reason he’s still alive lol. Thank u Parmak

- A difficult move under pressure against strong physical resistance from an opponent … and something would snap. A painful blow might set it off, a whispered insult, perhaps just a thought or a feeling of hopelessness, and I would suddenly lose control and lash out like a madman. I became suffused with a raging, crimson anger that poured out from some black hole somewhere deep inside me.

I feel like we see the outlines of this still in him by the time of the show — more tucked away and harnessed, but definitely still there. He’s got an instinctive Fight response a mile wide, it’s just that these days he mostly expresses it by becoming incredibly fucking MEAN when he feels threatened rather than outright physical attack. 

- And there was a soothing quality as it spoke of dry legal definitions. It acted as a balm for my bruises and bitterness. I began to feel such longings. It was like hearing music that you love when you least expect it. How I missed Mother, and working with Father in the flower beds. How I longed for home. I dropped my guard and surrendered to the voice. The tears I was determined never to shed accompanied choking waves of shame and relief, sadness and joy. I finally was able to admit to myself how unhappy I was.

*me with my magnifying glass studying the Palandine/Bashir parallels* listening to Bashir talk about Federation nonsense things presumably fills much the same niche in Garak’s psyche as this haha

- “I assure you, I am not in the habit of attacking people I don’t know in public places. We got our feet tangled in the crush, and he went down—just as, moments before, I nearly wiped out the scent display when he ignored the fact that I was standing in his path. I trust he’s not hurt.”

“I expect more from you, Garak,” Odo lectured. “We’re all under a great deal of strain.”

“As am I, Constable. Please, sit down at least. I feel like a schoolboy being disciplined by the docent.”

Odo sighed and awkwardly perched on the barstool next to mine. 

Their dynamic is. Everything to me. Also we learn later that the guy Garak picks a fight with here because he’s upset Julian is hanging out with Miles (lmao oh… buddy) isn’t just anyone or on impulse, but is one of the most hostile-to-Garaks Bajorans on the entire station with a small gang behind him, and Garak knows exactly who he is. Which lends it a certain… something. Almost an edge of very roundabout self-harm.  

“I can’t stay long. I have to finish dealing with this …”

“ … situation,” I finished. “You’re very fortunate, Odo.”

“How so?” he asked.

“These people have come to trust you. They rely upon you. You’ve made a real connection here.”

Odo merely grunted. I was careful not to mention Major Kira, knowing how reserved he was on the subject.

“Do you still want to go home?” I asked.

The question startled Odo, and for a moment the mask of official reserve dropped from his face. This was the first time I had brought up the subject since his admission to me during the “interrogation” in the Romulan warbird and Tain’s ill-fated attempt to destroy the Founders’ homeworld.

“ I … can’t say,” he replied ambiguously.

“Well, I can. There’s certainly nothing here to keep me.”

“I never told you how sorry I was about Ziyal’s death.” Odo could be quite sensitive in such matters.

“You did, actually,” I nodded. “But thank you.”

“Still, you and Dr. Bashir have created a strong bond.”

“Not really,” I answered quickly. “I’m afraid that what I have to offer has run its course. It’s certainly no match for darts.” I heard the bitterness of my tone, and so did Odo. We sat in silence for a moment.

“I understand you’ll be involved in the invasion. You must be pleased.” Odo steered us away from the heaviness that had descended.

. . . 

“When do you want to schedule your consultation?” I asked. Odo—no doubt influenced by his budding relationship with the Major—was about to branch out sartorially. But it occurred to me that Quark was the last person he wanted to know about it.

“We’ll talk,” he replied, nodding to Quark as he briskly marched back to the Promenade.

AHdorable all around. Hilarious that Odo picked up on trouble in human/lizard paradise and, with the vigor of a person who has freshly had love work out for them for the first time, going ‘not on my fucking watch you’ll talk to each other if it’s the last thing I do’. Also the sheer readiness with which he expects Julian to be Garak’s safe place. What on earth does this relationship look like to outside observers. Especially to Odo, practiced observer of humanoid folly, who completely nails Garak’s whole deal in Improbable Cause to the point that Garak lashes out defensively over it.   

- My solitary confinement was agony. The only way I got through it was to rethink all my attitudes about the Pit and the Wilderness and to focus on how I could make my stratagems more effective. Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?

Going through the whole book it is so stunningly awful that this IS the logic his inner world is shaped around for the vast majority of his life, right up until the ‘present’ part of the storyline where it’s being slowly deconstructed and reassembled. 

- I apologized to the others for disrupting their family; I explained that I had great need of this creature. Not only was Mila (as I eventually called him) the answer to my current problem, he was as important as any of the docents at Bamarren, with the possible exception of Calyx.

;_______________________________________________________________; there’s no part of this that isn’t crushing

Unlike the last time, I had preparation and an ally.

Tain really had to work at deadening Garak’s ability to form loyalty to anything else but him, because left to his own devices and natural instinct Garak will clearly packbond with ANYTHING. He’s so desperate to belong to someone and be loyal to them. 

- As the sun came up, the otherworldly beauty of the Wilderness was gradually revealed by each succeeding gradation of light. I was deeply moved by the presence of so much color in what had initially looked like a dead world to me. Beginning with a cold pale gray, the dawn flowed through a range of blues and into the softest rose and pink and then to a hot red that soon gave way to the merciless bleached bone-white of midday. I was able to see how much territory I had covered the previous night.

Can I just say how unspeakably tender it is that he takes the time to write this out in this. It serves literally no purpose in this narrative but sentiment — to be beautiful. He saw something beautiful once that moved him and he wants to share it with someone. What the fuck. 

- I became increasingly concerned; the sun was getting higher, and the overhanging ledge was now my last source of shade. At one point I took Mila out of his wrapping to check on his condition. At least that’s what I told myself. I was afraid that if I was honest and admitted that the real reason was to solicit help from a regnar, the slide into total insanity would be swift and sure. I was getting desperate.

The funniest and saddest thing I’ve ever read fhdskjfas emotional support regnar that he names after his fucking MUM hours. There are things going on with Garak no psychologist could ever hope to get to the bottom of 

- Three more members of the Furtan group were on the other side of the rock formation, but Mila had found a hidden depression that required some quiet digging to get into, and we avoided detection. We settled in and resealed the opening with sand and loose rocks. After an indeterminate period, the Furtan hunters left. As we waited for nightfall I fell into a deep sleep. 

BB!Elim and regnar Mila like ‘OUR secret hiding spot’. (Seeing how much garak both craves and thrives on getting to have that sense of ‘we’ and fellowship tho. And knowing that’s going to be not only deliberately kept from him but made psychologically impossible for him for a very long time. We should bring Tain back to life so we can kill him again and more painfully actually. Mercymorn acid jail for a thousand years time.)

- While I understood that I would have to watch my step with One Charaban, I also acknowledged that I had never been in a manlier or more attractive presence. It was like encountering an ideal that I’d only dreamed about. As I walked back to my section and accepted the congratulations of my mates, I was baffled not so much by the appearance of this new and commanding person in my life as by my recognition of his strong connection to me. But what connection?

Baby pansexual disaster at his finest

- The other day, the Doctor, Odo, and I were at the Replimat having lunch, an event that Odo, after our conversation, had taken it upon himself to organize.

. . . 

“But what about you, Doctor?” I asked, returning to the business at hand. “It seems there’s a movement afoot to have you replace Captain Sisko.” The doctor winced.

“Is this true?” Odo asked. We both looked to the doctor for confirmation. He sighed.

“There’s a group of … genetically enhanced people who feel that one of their own should be guiding the station during this emergency, and they’ve petitioned the Federation Council, but it’s Jack and his group, and no one takes them…” Exasperated, he broke off. “Garak, how did you hear about this?”

“My clientele talk and I listen.” This was also true: an idiot savant who wears his presumed genetic superiority like a badge of privilege walked into my shop and never stopped talking. Of course I encouraged him, and by the time he left I had heard all about some organized attempt to elevate Dr. Bashir to the leadership position. I could see that the doctor was upset that I’d divulged this information. Clearly this genetic business was not his favorite topic of conversation.

“Is this something we should keep an eye on?” Odo asked, studying us carefully.

“No, not at all,” the Doctor assured him. “It’s just Jack’s people. This was nearly a year ago, and I’m afraid they have too much time on their hands—like some other people I know.” He pointedly looked away from me as Odo continued to study us, trying to decode the undercurrent of this last exchange between us. No wonder he was such a capable security operative. Odo registered every change in tone and temperature and tracked the change down to its cause.

“Tell me something, Garak.” It was clear that he had found an opening for one of those deferred questions he kept on a prioritized list somewhere in his changeling head. He was still a basically shy and tactful person, especially when it came to other people’s business, but lately he’d become more openly inquisitive. I wondered if it was Major Kira’s influence.

Matchmaker/self-appointed and woefully under-equipped marriage counselor Odo……….you are Everything to me you dumb beige bitch. Garak goes a bit aggro in return when he tries to get too close to something tender but honestly odo buddy gooey friend of my heart maybe you shouldn’t barge into this particular glassware shop like a rampaging elephant huh someone’s going to get cut. Also Garak could have refrained from pressing on Julian’s bruises for attention here and we may not have had the rest of the scene, but alas. 

This must be the lunch where we deal with uncomfortable subjects.

“But if Cardassia is liberated from Dominion control …” Odo went on.

“When Cardassia is liberated,” I interrupted.

“Would you return?”

“Would you return to the Great Link?” Odo reacted with sharp annoyance to the question.It wasn’t a fair one, because although we were both exiles, we were in very different circumstances. With the humanoid shape he was still learning to live with, and his deepening relationship with Major Kira, Odo was discovering a new mode of existence, a new link. He had an alternative, however difficult the choice. I didn’t.

“Yes, I know. You can’t say.” I was sorry I had asked again. It was a question he was obviously struggling with.

The feeling Garak seems to have towards Odo in this period where like… you know when you have a friend who has a lot of the same mental health issues as you do and you see them get better and start to flourish and you are genuinely so happy for them but also feel just how deep in the muck you yourself still are with no prospect of getting out. And the way Garak consistently wistfully includes Odo’s romantic relationship to Kira when he observes how he’s coming out of his shell and why he has reasons to stay. 

“Would you return to the same Cardassia?” the doctor asked.

“What do you mean ‘same’?” But I knew perfectly well what he meant.

“To a Cardassia containing the political and social elements that made the current situation possible.”

“My dear Doctor, that’s also the Cardassia that made me possible.” I half-hoped my joke would end this conversation … but I knew better.

Julian baby please read the room and take this up some other time somewhere private maybe (and yet I understand how you wouldn’t think of that until later once Garak’s had a rare public freakout)

Absolutely heartbreaking in every way that garak seems so convinced he must have done something wrong or simply doesn’t have anything more of interest to offer julian and that’s why they’re drifting apart, when a just as likely reading from what’s actually on the page here is that julian feels he keeps getting it wrong and hesitates in case he makes the damage worse. Garak have you considered who this man is before you decided you must have fucked up and resigned yourself to the dark closet of self-isolation tain put in your head. I’m in shambles. 

Also Julian is saying a lot of very true things about Cardassia in this scene that Garak needs to hear and that he’s clearly processing all through the rest of his time on DS9 and beyond, as angry as it makes him, and the good doctor means so well but he IS being incredibly condescending, and he keeps pushing even as Garak is signaling he’d rather not go in depth on this, especially in such an exposed public setting. (This is a conversation they SHOULD be having in private, both for emotional reasons and b/c Garak’s position on this station is a lot more vulnerable than I think Julian realizes, as the hostile comments he immediately starts getting during this convo show.) I mean I guess it’s not this man’s fault he is fundamentally British and autistic what can a bitch do fdjslkfhasj (I say this with all the love in my fellow autistic heart, please do not misunderstand me here). But it’s a very Julian well-meaning but flawed thing to do — he’s focusing on the principle and intellectual side of it, but he’s not taking into account that just maybe having to deconstruct the entirety of your worldview and belief system and then feel responsible for implementing them to create a better world afterwards could be an emotionally fraught process that requires not only reasoned political debate but personal, emotional support from a friend. He isn’t getting that Garak isn’t so much categorically resistant to the basic ideas he’s setting forth — it’s that he wants to be convinced on a practical level that it could even work, because otherwise it’s just a useless pretty picture. 

(Which is a big part of their dynamic on many levels, I’ve always felt. All those times he challenges Julian’s more hopeful and idealistic world view — ultimately he doesn’t do that because he wants to break Julian’s faith down until he agrees with him, he does it because somewhere deep down Garak wants to be convinced. He wants there to be hope somewhere in the world, even if he won’t buy the quick and glorified ‘it’s easy to be a saint in paradise’ Federation version of it. And Julian’s version isn’t that, in the end; it gets tested again and again and he really, genuinely means it, even when it’s hard. Which is one of the most healing things about his presence in Garak’s life overall.) 

Ironically I also think Julian believes so much in Garak and his capabilities that it simply doesn’t occur to him that Garak as a private person might just be like. Too scared and overwhelmed to even contemplate this, at least until Garak is upset enough that he can’t gracefully hide it. (“With your background and experience, Garak, I’m certain that you could serve as a liaison between a new Cardassian government and the Federation.” The Doctor paused and waited for a response. None was forthcoming. “I once suggested that you visit Earth as a member of the Cardassian government-in-exile….” oh so no biggie then Julian that sounds easy and painless and I’m surprised no one has thought to do this yet, this Obsidian Order wilted leftover sandwich of a guy is surely going to be welcomed with open arms wherever he goes among his people fhsdakjfas!)

I feel like this is one of Julian’s less sympathetic traits that he would probably feel such intense self-loathing about once he realized it’s one he shares with his father — this instinct to try to shape someone into a ‘better’ version of themselves. I think Julian’s version of this primarily comes from a much, MUCH kinder place than in his father; he has the will and ability to see the best in the world and in people, and he can’t help but want them to live up to that once he’s seen it. He fundamentally believes people can be better, can be good, when given the help and tools they need, and that’s such a beautiful part of him. BUT along with that there is also a danger of that tipping over into becoming paternalistic and controlling, of overly privileging the ideal you see over the person who is actually there right now, and trying to forcibly change the one into the other ‘for them’.  

Considering Garak’s past experiences of being shaped and controlled by someone else’s idea of what he should be, I’m if anything surprised he doesn’t react worse to this, honestly! I think it speaks to the basic trust and goodness that exists between them that he doesn’t. Julian is clumsy but not malicious, and even here Garak does recognize that on some deep level.   

(Probably because he’s also been touched by Julian at his best, in The Wire — where his support and acceptance is absolute and unconditional, free of the instinct to control anything.)

My voice had risen to an uncharacteristic pitch. It was still ringing in my ears as the Doctor stared at me as if he were studying a baffling microbe. I, too, was baffled. I had no idea where this outburst came from. I know that a distance has widened between us during the past year or so and I know that the holosuite program incident and the revelations of his genetic enhancement are the symptoms of this distance rather than the cause. It’s only natural—we’re very different people. I also know that he had only the best intentions in suggesting that I use the Federation model in order to influence the future of Cardassia. Misguided, yes, and somewhat patronizing and arrogant, but hardly sufficient to elicit this embarrassing and public loss of control.

I mumbled some sad excuse which the good Doctor and Odo were kind enough not to challenge and left the Replimat to return to my shop. As I passed Quark’s I caught his eye and we nodded. Why I included him in my outburst also puzzled me; I rather admire his industry and resourcefulness. I especially admire the way he consistently bends Federation rules so that they work for him.

That’s such a fair evaluation of Bashir’s intentions and personality honestly. Even this upset and feeling that distance between them, Garak still has complete trust in the Doctor’s basic good intentions and nature. (Are you really such very different people at the end of the day, though, Elim. Should the genetic enhancement arc maybe be telling you something here.)

Also such a hilarious element of the Garak-Quark relationship.’Sorry to get you caught up in the crossfire bro I’ve never thought of you as anything but an avaricious opportunist (complimentary)’  

What is important is that I feel that I am necessary, that I function with all my faculties in the service of a greater cause. And while I wait for this invasion, is making Odo more attractive to Major Kira a greater cause?

It is in fact nothing but the greatest cause Garak. Getting Kira happily lovingly laid is priority one at all times. 

- I had no real friends to speak of, and told myself that loneliness was the price I had to pay for success. I considered the games and behavior of my mates to be childish, and that any unnecessary interaction would only distract me from my work. The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

(I feel like this whole part is going to hit Julian in some kind of way lmao)

Literally just. Put me in a little box on the bottom of the ocean and leave me there forever I can’t go on. Also he’s SUCH a clever-but-socially-inept teenager in this part around the people in his group he doesn’t like fhdkjsa. Ugh they’re all so annoying and fake just leave me alone *eyeroll emoji* I didn’t want to be included in their idiotic conversation bb elim… I would die for your lightly insufferable but entertainingly snarky teenage butt in a way that actually makes me feel more kindly towards my own inner idiot 16 year old.

Also it’s no wonder he’s so out to sea when it comes to interacting with his peers — by all accounts he didn’t play much with other kids as a child and then he’s dropped straight into a social Lord of the Flies piranha tank shot through with Class Shit. 

Inspired by my guide Mila, I would experiment at withdrawing my presence when I had to remain in the same room with people I didn’t like.

Honing his future customer service worker smile 

Here follow some Bamarren and beyond observations I’ve elected to call ‘Sex Stuff’:  

- Oh ok so garak gets some sexual Thing out of being beaten to a pulp after mouthing off through the same mechanism that made spanking known as the ‘English Vice’ across Europe when that was the go-to punishment in British boarding schools. I see. Many things are revealed to me

I looked from the pale, frozen face of Three to the others. They all looked like statues commemorating fear. And I was pleased. I realized at that moment that they were in my control, and that I would no longer have any trouble with them. Especially Three. I felt the power like a drug surging through my system.

And then, of course, the other side of the masochism/sadism scale smoothly coming in, he contains those multitudes. In Garak’s defense idk if you could go through a psychosexual development that wasn’t deeply, deeply weird in this sort of environment 

“What do you want me to do?” I was trembling as if my body were chilled.

Well, I mean. You know fhkdsjha. And he’s rewarded with the first non-aggressive physical contact he’s had here, you say. (For reference he’s talking to Barkan, of the aforementioned ‘manliest presence’.) I’m sure this didn’t awaken anything in him or anything.

“Elim, why do you think we have these ridges?” She stroked the scalloped cords of cartilege and bone that ran along her neck and down her shoulders with a delicacy that stopped my breath. The energy had turned into molten liquid that was now flowing into my groin. The rest of the world was swallowed by complete darkness and I was back inside the tunnel.

“Because … we do,” I replied stupidly.

Fhdjskfhsdjkfhadskjfhas he’s so easy fdsjkfhas. And what a one-two punch of sexual confusion he got there. That one afternoon did irreparable damage to the libidinous development of this poor man and now he has to live like this.

For the second time tonight I was spellbound by another’s passion. In very different ways, Charaban and Palandine held me in their orbit, like powerful suns.

I was learning something new about myself—an emerging desire for power, but a power that had less to do with mastery over others than it did with connecting to them. The way I felt the connection to Charaban … and especially to Palandine.

And, I’m so sorry to have to break it to you like this, your biodad. I’m sorry Elim you’ve got something truly unfortunately Freudian going on here. It’s not your fault.  

“I love the Blind Moon,” Charaban said softly.

“Why is it called that?” I asked, deeply relieved by the mysterious change that had come over us.

“It’s the time for lovers’ assignations,” Palandine answered. “The moon will give them enough light to meet, but not so much for them to be discovered.”

“So if you and Elim were true lovers I wouldn’t have been able to find you,” Charaban teased.

“That’s right, Barkan,” she said with a direct look. I shifted position in the ensuing silence and tried to hide my disappointment with Palandine’s reply, but at the same time, the pleasure I felt in the company of these two people kept growing.

“See?” Palandine suddenly addressed me. “You can do it.”

“What?” I was startled by her delighted burst.

“Smile. Look at that, Barkan. Wouldn’t you tell someone with that smile everything he wanted to know?” she demanded.

“The first time I met him—well, the second…” he corrected himself, “he had a smile that I wanted to wipe off his face.” He was referring to that early morning in front of the Central Gate.

“But it wasn’t that smile,” Palandine insisted.

“No,” he conceded. “Definitely not that one.” And the truth was that I could feel this smile throughout my entire body.

Noooo this is about to go so wrong…it’s all fun and games and bisexual poetry recitation under the blind moon until someone gets stabbed in the back like the Caesar (well caesar notably got stabbed from many many directions but you see what I’m trying to get at here)

- [The Klingon] looked up, and I immediately knew two things about him: he was inebriated beyond reason and he was one of their shock troopers, a callused veteran of hand-to-hand combat. I took a deep breath; as dolts go he was quite impressive. My spirits were suddenly and immeasurably lifted.

“You spoonhead!” he growled at me. I hated that word.

“And you … a great warrior who brings down dabo girls with a single blow,” He looked at me trying to decide if I had insulted or complimented him.

“P’tak!” I shouted, “I mean that you’re the biggest coward in the Klingon Empire,” He released the dabo girl, and as he moved to the narrow stairway I thought that he was also the biggest Klingon in the Empire.

I looked for my advantage. This was not an equal match, and my gigantic friend was in the full flush of a berserker blood lust. I sighed. I’m too old for this, I thought. 

. . .

“Get security, Chief, and tell them to prepare the biggest cell they have … or a smaller coffin for me,” I said as I moved into the alcove and squeezed through the opening where the panel had been. 

 Listen I would apologize for including this here but he’s clearly getting off on this and I couldn’t do anything about it if I wanted to. 

I cannot convey just how much my already intense enjoyment of canon is enriched by the knowledge that Garak is up to these kinds of hijinks constantly in the background when the camera isn’t on him. In his defense he was left unsupervised. O’Brien’s fond mildly exasperated help is just the cherry on top. ‘Well I GUESS Julian would be upset if I let you get beaten to death by a drunk Klingon so fine I’ve got your back’  

(I made for the upper Promenade—and wondered if Calyx might be enjoying this spectacle from wherever he was. ;______; I like how much of an impact Calyx has on his development, considering how briefly he was actually in his life. Plus: Calyx; the Aiglamene of Bamarren? Locked Tomb/DS9 fandom overlap people, Let’s Discuss.) 

“Help me,” he croaked. I was touched by the giant’s childlike surrender. I knew the feeling well.

“I will,” I replied and immediately wondered why I had agreed. I’m getting soft, I thought. 

The greatest joy to me of a lot of this is, like… idk if these are all exactly the things that happened at every turn. In fact I’d say they very likely aren’t, Garak’s entire character taken into consideration. But they are certainly the things he wants someone — someone he trusts as far as he knows how, someone he earnestly wants to be closer to than anyone else, and also wants to see all of him — to know about him, to share in. This could just have easily been a story he told Julian in person over lunch to make him laugh. It’s silly and frivolous and fun, and as much at his own expense as a ludicrous person as to show off. To a true lying liar who lies connoisseur, unreliable narration tells more than it obscures etc. lol  

- (About Barkan) It was the appearance of warmth that made his charm so attractive. A part of me wanted to tell him everything, to challenge the duplicity of his negative evaluation, but the clarity I found in the Lower Prefect’s office was still with me. Looking at him, I was reminded how Palandine had taught me to smile when I asked questions.

Apart from Pythas, who gets his own little twink corner, most of the people Garak is attracted to throughout this are his height or taller and slender but athletic. I’m just saying that when he spotted Julian in the Replimat for the first time he really saw a young man with the face of an angel who is exactly his type fhdjskah maybe he should have seen this coming for himself. Too high on endorphins and hubris to think this would awaken anything in him irrevocably and now he’s stuck with the consequences.  

Why? I asked myself. Why?! For the life of me I could not understand why it was important to her that I respond. Why should she—so beautiful, so alive—be disappointed if I didn’t return her … what? What did she want from me? Friendship? Why me?

I was in turmoil. Her grace and manner, the way she tilted her head and half smiled when she listened, as if everything amused her … it was like a forbidden dream of the unattainable. The attraction was painful because I instinctively knew that while my life would be simpler and more controllable without her, it would also be as drab as my Bamarren uniform.

. . . 

“Are you making fun of me?” It was at that moment, when I asked the question, that I realized just how afraid I was of being the object of her ridicule. She stopped laughing and for the first time she was speechless. 

Losing my entire fucking MIND about how Garak is basically taking Palandine’s place when he approaches Julian at first. Odo and Garak ‘I love you so much I want to become you because it’s the only way I can imagine really being close to you’ handshake meme

Sex stuff end. For now.

I was about to leave when Odo asked about the designs for his “new” sartorial look. I could see that he was masking his concern, so I assured him that the sketches were some of my finest creations, and would be ready within the week. He grunted his thanks and I stepped out onto the Promenade. Love does make fools of us all.

I’m clawing at my face with emotion. Odo… And Garak did finish those sketches even after his moment of existential ennui over them before. 

- Please for the love of god stop putting Six out in the merciless sun T_____T how many times must a poor lil nerd boy pass out before he can rest in the sand etc. 

- “It’s not every evening we find Barkan Lokar strolling with a murk through the Grounds.”

“Lokar? My father buried the Legate, Turat Lokar,” I said without thinking.

“Did your father kill him?” Palandine joked. But I didn’t laugh. The Lokars were a legendary family, and the old man’s funeral was the largest I had ever seen.

Why is this so funny. Garak you are so fucking weird. ‘Oh yeah I know that guy my dad did the flower arrangements for his funeral’ 

- A spirited dabo game involving several Klingons and a serious-looking dabo girl I hadn’t seen before caught my attention. If Quark had been present he’d be giving her one of his congeniality lectures. I truly sympathize with the young woman; if I had to spend all day with these drunken dolts….

Literally so hilarious that’s his first thought. First impulse: ‘surrounded by idiots’ solidarity. Garak what were you doing day drinking at the devil’s sacrament/quarks at midday girl…

- Rom soon appeared with a small container of kanar. He was wearing an outfit I had made for him.

“H-here you are, Garak. I hope you enjoy it.” Ever the gracious host.

“Thank you, Rom. And please, try not to let your collar lie there like a dead targ.” I adjusted the offending fabric, and Rom sweetly tolerated my fussing.

I’m fucking crying what the HELL. Surprise wholesome dynamic that keeps going through the whole narrative. Garak just uncomplicatedly likes and appreciates Rom, with no particular ulterior motive. Plus: fussing is also how we see Mila express affection, like mother like son.   

- I realized as I took a sip of my drink that I was in a dangerous mood. Drinking in the middle of the day. The Doctor would be quite disappointed with me. When I’m unable to immerse myself in work my mind becomes occupied by an invading army of thoughts intent upon conquering all equilibrium and peace. Kanar is a valuable if unreliable weapon I employ against this army. The pills the Doctor gives me are a poor substitute.

Julian, severely unimpressed: uh-huh

‘Would Julian want me to do this to myself? No. However he’s too busy playing soldiers with O’Brien to tell me so, apparently, so that can’t stop me.’ You petty lil bitch garak (affectionate)

The fact that he’s doing the The Little Julian Who Lives In My Head thing already here, where the real Julian is actually around but not engaged with him. I’m so sad. He’s managed to discover shrimp colour spectrums of loneliness and pining.  

- Ever since the Romulan business and Captain Sisko’s near breakdown (outside of the Doctor, whom I told shortly after the incident, no one knows about this, but one recognizes the symptoms), I’ve been obsessed with memories of Bamarren. 

The fact that he tells Julian about that. Presumably partly in a practical way to make sure Sisko doesn’t fall to pieces completely but he doesn’t seem to have any shame about it or expect Bashir to react too badly over it either. The trust…

- I must admit that I was quite taken aback. Evidently there is honor among dolts.

I’m genuinely impressed by how enjoyable it is in this book to be party to Garak’s inner voice. It’s so fun in here, among all the horrors. 

- Nine approached me as I sat alone in our quarters reading the first part of Cylon Pareg’s Eternal Stranger, a saga spanning several generations of a Cardassian family during the early and middle Union.

*whisper of agonized affection* between this and his happy place being studying wormhole theory… he’s such a little nerd. 

Nine swallowed again, an even more bitter taste, and marched off to a life of diminishing returns.

LMAO burn. And, as we shall see, not necessarily inaccurate.  

- As I walked away I heard the custodian ask Tarnal what it was I had done to deserve this punishment.

“Nobody told me. But I know he’s got a mouth on him,” Tarnal replied.

The more things change I guess fdhsakja. Known across the school for being a) a sneaky lil bastard and b) never ever shutting the fuck up when he really really should 

- “And you have to use that wonderful smile of yours more often, Elim.”

“What’s that got to do with listening?” That was the subject, and Palandine had typically made a jump in logic I couldn’t follow. She also forgot that I was a Cardassian male and smiling was not one of our strong features.

“If they feel comfortable with you, people will tell you stories about themselves that will reveal their deepest secrets.”

“But what if the stories aren’t true?” I challenged. “I could smile till my cheeks hurt, and you could tell me any kind of story you wanted—and what would I know about you except what you invented?”

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted.

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not? Because it’s not what you believe? Or it doesn’t fit a definition of the truth that someone taught you? Look at people, Elim.” Palandine gestured as if the enclosure were filled with people. “Observe them. The way they walk and talk, the way they hold themselves and eat their meals. That’s what they believe about themselves. Is it the ‘truth’? Are they really that way? I don’t know. Perhaps it is a lie. But what people lie about the most are themselves, and these lies become the stories they believe and want to tell you.”

“As long as I’m smiling,” I mumbled.

. . . 

“Truth, as we’ve learned to define it, is not only overrated,” she went on with a controlled passion, “it’s designed to keep people in the dark.”

This last statement stopped me.

“You mean the way we’ve been taught?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“What about our government?”

“They tell us the stories that we need to know in order to be good citizens,” she replied carefully.

“They don’t tell us the truth, is what you’re saying,” I concluded.

“There you go again. They tell us their truth, Elim, and we are here to learn how to listen.”

. . . 

“Let the ones without power scowl and make fierce faces.You smile. It’s an invitation to connect with another person. And once the invitation is accepted, relax and listen … you’ll come to know as much as you’ll ever need to about that person,” she said with a smile that I greedily accepted.

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted. 

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not?” 

SO when I was saying he’s taking Palandine’s place in this dynamic with Julian early on I was not kidding and I was not wrong hahaha. And it’s also what this entire book is, in the end. Trusting Julian to ‘truly listen’ to the story under the stories is maybe the biggest show of trust and vulnerability Garak could ever extend to anyone. Extremely The Wire-core once more.

The idea that tiny Garak was too outwardly glum and serious is. Amazing and brainbreaking. People feeling uncomfortable under his gaze b/c he’ll just like scowl distrustfully at them. Palandine I don’t know if you fixed him or made him worse but you certainly did something fundamental to him and committed him to the bit and for that I cannot thank you enough

- I no longer had Palandine to myself—but surprisingly, I didn’t mind, in fact I was pleased that Charaban was here. His stillness, like everything else about him, had grace and strength. I sneaked another look in his direction and marveled that this was the same person I had first encountered in the storeroom. He returned my look, and in the next few moments a bond grew between us that I had never thought possible. 

You know if Barkan was really smart or had the capacity for extended self-control he would have just kept stringing Garak along as the third in his disastrous marriage. Garak is used to subsisting on the merest scraps of affection and consideration, you’d barely even have to feed him. (Ala Daisuke Jigen with many an evil ex, for the Lupinheads out there lol) A threesome here and there and maybe gently stroking his hair afterwards and you’d have him for life, probably. Alas or perhaps thankfully Barkan is ultimately just an asshole and not that smart. 

- A Bolian client came down the steps outside the door and was about to enter the shop, but for some reason he stopped at the threshold. He looked at us, turned, and went back the way he came.

LMAO that guy was like ‘something really fraught and homosexual is going on here and that is frankly none of my business, as you were gentlemen don’t mind me.’ A real ally and a bro.  

“I’m keeping you from your business.” Bashir stood up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I’m pleased you stopped by.” I was about to escort him to the door.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“Garak, I come from a culture that has perfected the ‘stiff upper lip,’” he explained with the same faint smile.

“What does that mean?” It was a genuine question; there was a change in his attitude.

“It means that we never complain, never admit to our feelings, never ask for help. It’s just not done,” Bashir explained. “And those people who lack character’ and insist on airing their needs—especially in public—are subject to ridicule… and worse. Does this sound familiar?”

“Perhaps,” I replied softly.

“But I’m also a doctor, Garak. And I know which group of people suffers the most. I really won’t take up any more of your time.” He extended his hand, which he rarely did, and I took it. “Thank you for the tea.” He turned and went out the door.

I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. Yes, Doctor, it does sound familiar. But as to the question of which group suffers the most…

. . . 

After Charaban’s betrayal I became as withdrawn and solitary as I had been when I first came to the Institute. I tried to spend time with Palandine, but it never quite worked out; between her regular duties and the recruitment and planning for the female Competition, she had little time for anything else. But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

1) Going NUTS over the fact that these are separated by ONE paragraph. Andy Robinson staring directly into the camera making parallels between the main love interests in this book like ‘Am I making myself clear here. Do you get it yet’. Also really interesting to make this relationship pattern a, well, pattern in Garak’s life, and not a unique element of his and Bashir’s thing (which Doylistically was basically a byproduct of cowardly 90s standards for tv writing more than anything else lol)

2) But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

 The Palandine/Bashir parallel train barrels on, scoring a deep trail of heartache into my soul. Also in that case it’s so sad because he really hasn’t done anything wrong or anything to be ashamed of, Barkan and Palandine are the ones who fucked him over :’( 

3) I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. + Tolan’s grief at seeing Garak after Bamorren: “He’s hard, Mila,” Father said. . . . “But to the point where he’s unreachable?” Father asked. “Where nothing penetrates? How can he express even his basic needs if he’s trapped inside a shell?” + Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?...........................................................................

4) More proof to my eyes that Julian’s side of this whole thing seems to be more about thinking Garak doesn’t actually want him to be there. He doesn’t think he’s welcome here or that he’ll be able to help more than he hurts with whatever’s going on for him. ‘I really won’t take up any more of your time’ AUGH 

Garak buddy… every time he tries to get closer to you or extend some care, you bristle like a hedgehog even though you’re trying to do it in as polite and decent a way as possible — what is the poor guy supposed to think beyond a certain point lmao. (Though on the hopeful/beautiful side… what is this entire book but Garak actually taking the advice/suggestion Bashir gives in this scene to reexperience his past and put it in context — not in the holosuites, but in his own way by writing it all out in a way that makes sense to his Cardassian brain and then sharing that with Julian directly. Like. The last line of the book is ‘You’re always welcome, Doctor’. Elim ‘I will become emotionally healthy enough to ask Julian to come visit with an open heart if it fucking kills me’ Garak)  

I’m so soft for how careful they both are with each other in this scene, though. Even in this difficult place where there’s stuff they don’t understand about each other and they are having difficulty connecting for… several reasons, they are trying so so hard to be good to each other. Which is why I think they have every chance of working out brilliantly long-term; once you’ve got a mutual respect, willingness to keep working to understand and communicate with each other even when it’s difficult, and that fundamental ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ good faith in a relationship you’re a good chunk of the way there, from what I have observed. 

Julian cares that Garak was upset, much more than he cares about being right, and this time he shows it in a more private setting where Garak can take it in. They’re trying!  

5) The implication in But as to the question of which group suffers the most… that Garak also realizes how much he’s hurting Julian by not being able to let him in…

Most of all the fact that Bashir in this scene is like ‘Listen Garak I get emotional repression. I’m literally British.’ is one of the funniest things that happen in the whole book. To me. (I’m Norwegian, culturally this has. Some overlap with my experience, let’s say lol) 

- Six had long since gone home. He wanted to succeed so badly, but his body couldn’t withstand the constant assault of the training. I’m sure he found an academic situation. 

Oh thank GOD. Genuinely so relieved to hear this. This is how many times a nerd boy must pass out before he rests in the sand and gets to go to normal university instead of murderschool, the question is finally answered.  

- Tain has shown up again and I want to throw rocks at him until he goes away. And I know he won’t. 

- My shed has become somewhat more bearable, but the clutter and confinement of the interior space requires that I leave the door open. To keep myself busy when I’m not working with the med unit, Doctor, I am engaged in a project I must tell you about. It baffles me. Perhaps you can tell me if I’m losing my mind altogether.

. . . 

[Parmak] turned to me with the strangest expression on his face—and looked me directly in the eyes for the first time.

AUGH. (Plus, the fact that Parmak consistently calls him ‘Elim’.)

But what baffles me, Doctor, is that I attach no meaning to what I’m doing here. I’m just doing it because I need to. And to be truthful, I don’t see this as a memorial at all. On the contrary—if I could, I’d singlehandedly rebuild this city myself, piece by piece. I stood here watching Parmak’s blood dry on this pile of rubble, engulfed by a feeling of loss and utter mystification as to what these piles mean.

Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor.

This whole section is the biggest mood and I’ve rarely felt closer to a fictional character haha. His quietly dissociated tired bemusement both with himself and what he’s doing and Parmak’s reaction is… yeah that’s exactly what that feels like. And ‘Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor’ has done irreparable damage to my psyche, I’m going to be thinking about this forever

- Palandine gestured that she would deal with me and sent the mate on her way.

“So what did you use me for?” I asked.

“What do we ever use each other for?” she replied without hesitation.

“Answering a question with a question is an old trick, Palandine.”

“No trick. I needed a friend.”

“And you don’t need a friend now” I hated the tone that was creeping into my voice.

“It’s complicated, Elim.”

I was afraid to ask why.

“What did you use me for?” she asked.

The question truly baffled me. I only wanted her love. Was that using her? I would gladly have given mine in return.

Still gnawing on concrete over Garak partially reenacting Palandine’s way of approaching him with Bashir in the beginning. At that point he also needed a friend (and he needed someone to run to Sisko like ‘THE SPY TALKED TO ME :D’ to deliver intel through so he was also using him lol.) The way Garak picks up traits from the people he loves like he’s doing the soul version of Odo’s shapeshifting-as-closeness thing because it’s the only way he knows. 

- “So it’s Eight,” he said, dismissing me from his world.

“I don’t think you understand, Barkan….” Palandine began to say.

“It’s not necessary that he understand,” I dismissed him from my world.

Barkan… you did not understand what you were doing, getting into an emotionally and sexually charged petty-off with this man. RIP your stupid ass I guess lmao

“I wanted to tell you. But when I realized … I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said with a gentleness that rankled me.

“I’m not hurt. Neither one of you can hurt me. I wish you a successful… partnership.”

Palandine is so interesting!!!! And like here’s one of the things that I think make a big difference in Garak’s relationship with Palandine vs. his relationship with Julian — who tells him exactly the same thing in ‘The Wire’, after all! (I don’t want to hurt you) Because Palandine doesn’t really mean it, does she? She doesn’t mean ‘I don’t want you to be hurting, I want to protect you from being harmed’, she means ‘I didn’t want to be the thing that hurt you; I didn’t want to be faced with your hurt’, while she is doing things that will inevitably hurt him. I think there is genuine affection and care on her side, but they’re in such a fucked up, brutal world and they’re so young. 

‘I’m not hurt. Who’s hurt’ says teen crying quiet tears of blood as his world falls to pieces 

“I love him, Elim. And I’m also ambitious. I want what he wants. You’ll understand this when you find someone to share your….”

Not me wondering how much of this has echoes to Mila’s relationship to Tain and how that’s part of what Garak reacts to — that survival mechanism of ‘I want what he wants’, subsuming and submitting yourself completely. Which of course is what a Cardassian is supposed to do to the state, and that Garak also does with Tain for the vast majority of both of their lives. The worst part is that Palandine really had some reason to hope for more — she and Barkan start out in a more equal position than it’s implied Mila and Tain ever did, that’s always framed as an inter-class thing, and while Palandine’s family situation is not as grand as Barkan’s it doesn’t seem like it crosses the service class/ruling class barrier. But the structure of the state imposed on every level of society right down to the most intimate and personal areas of life is going to crush the life out of that hope real fast. I’m sorry girl. Wanting to have a fighting chance in this world isn’t the worst sin anyone’s committed and tbf you are like a teen by all accounts

- “My name is Elim Garak. I don’t know where I’m being sent, but I hope you’ll remember me as your friend.”

“When I was told today that I was One Lubak, I was honored… and afraid that I’d lose you as a friend. Thank you. My name is Pythas Lok.”

Neither one of us ever took our eyes off Mila, who was still trying to blend into his surroundings.

Crying gently into my cereal

Garak ‘I wasn’t sure I could ever call him a friend’ vs. Pythas ‘Afraid that I’d lose you as a friend’

Something powerful was stirring deep inside me, and I began to shake. Mila snapped his head to the side, the way he does when he senses light or heat change. Convulsive waves pushed up from my center and tears filled my eyes, blinding me. I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me. By the time the convulsions subsided and my eyes cleared, Mila had disappeared into the rock-and-sand home he came from. 

Absolutely sobbing my eyes out into my cereal 

Spoiler warning: Garak having to go somewhere to be alone after something calamitous happens in his life because that’s the only way he can cry is a theme that will reemerge later and do unspeakable emotional damage to me personally haha

As I hiked back to the Institute, I had the thought that maybe somebody was doing the same thing for me and bringing me back home.

No baby you see someone is doing the exact opposite of this to you right now because you have a basic goodness and capacity for real honest love that Tain doesn’t and he’ll never in a million years set you free just because he loves you and it’s the right thing for you 

- And Jadzia is gone. The station is a sadder and grayer place without her. I’m surprised at how keenly I feel her absence. Even though I know that her symbiont has been “joined” with another person … well, it’s not the same, is it? Indeed, knowing that Jadzia’s personality is somehow contained along with several others within this other person, I wonder how I would react if we were ever to meet.

:(

The doctor has reminded me that these are personal choices, and it’s not for us to judge how one chooses to mourn. Quite so. Who can even begin to understand another’s grief? “Do you judge people by the clothes they ask you to make?” the doctor asked once. I bit back my response, but the point was well taken.

:’) little soul-healing brush of Julian kindness time 

- “What does Tir Remara want with you?” Colonel Kira demanded, ignoring my offer of tea. Immediately an entire picture formed in my head of the scenario her abrupt question suggested: Tir Remara—a spy, perhaps even a changeling, preying upon a lonely Cardassian who was working for the Federation and engaged in top-secret work.

“She wants to have my children,” I replied with a serious look.

“You can’t be serious,” she managed.

“I’m not. Now do you want this tea or not?”

Kira should just have strangled you all those times she wanted to you snarky asshole fhdskja

[blinkbones]

The LIveship Traders - Ship of Magic -- Robin Hobb

I remember reading through most of this brick a few years back, but I didn't actually remember the story. I vaguely recalled that Hiémain (Wintrow in the original...? I think...?) made me uneasy bc I didn't understand him, that Althea's story made me feel tense, and that Malta was annoying. OK SO. I HAVE SO MANY NEW OPINIONS.

First of all I hated Kyle with fire in my guts for most of this book. Oh, he's so well written. I just got audibly and vehemently upset at his bullshit several times. I wished for his death many times just because his chapters made me so angry. Great character 10/10 I hope he dies.

Althea made me a lot less scared -- and I guess that's mostly because I'm an seasoned adult now, and in the meantime I discovered I was nonbinary and started living as myself as well... So her (admittedly very dangerous) stunt as a crossdresser and as someone going into a hard job is a lot less scary -- like, yknow, I've kinda lived some of that. And I survived it. So she can, too. I also saw through her naive arrogance this time. She's also a 10/10 character and I like her a lot.

Hiémain Wintrow ooooh Wintrow... I love him. His musings hit very close to home, perhaps especially because I became a recluse intellectual in the meantime lol... I think about what he thinks all the damn time. The tension between his feeling of absolute interconnectedness (like mycelium...) and the discomfort of actually being disconnected from real life. yknow. Touch grass. Touch a ship deck. How your principles strain against everyday strenuous work. How your biggobrain speaking habits can fall flat with regular people who didn't decide to spend months poring over X thought or Y text. And is it all worth it, and should you give up your principles? Or stick to them? Maybe reshape them? The transformation is painful. I loved Wintrow so much and I'm so excited to see what he does next. At the end of this book, he felt like the character with the strongest sense of self out of them all, and in that sense, I suspect he might be the toughest overall. All the others are struggling.

Definitely not least of all our favorite bipolar pirate LOL oh this man. I say bipolar bc that's what my healthcare friend diagnosed him as from my whatsapp rants. He's SO funny and I support him in his unhinged pursuit. I love how he's lucky MOSTLY because he doesn't say what he thinks and people fill in the blanks helpfully. Here's to keeping your mouth shut sometimes. 10/10 also.

Ok I loved every other character as well and the romances are so good actually like... finally some good heteros!! finally some good food!!! google is robin hobb bisexual or is she just that good ,

PS: ok I forgot to update my opinion on Malta: she's sooo annoying 10/10 great character. As a now adult I am so worried, pls child pls listen to your elders a little I beg

[mirandagoing4baroque]

⭐️⭐️⭐️ My Darling Dreadful Thing is a solid update to the gothic novel format. It has everything a discerning reader of the gothic genre could want, ghosts, family secrets, a spooky old house, and things that go bump in the night. However, if you read a lot of gothic novels, you’ll find some of the tropes at play here a little predictable. This reviewer had the whole situation pegged pretty much from the get go. That didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book, but it did prevent it from reaching the heights of Mexican Gothic, or other gothic novels that managed to transcend their genre tropes rather than simply fulfilling them in a satisfactory manner.

That being said, the atmosphere, which, in this reviewer’s opinion, is the most crucial part of a gothic novel is the best part of this one. The decaying house where our characters spend most of their time is thoughtfully described and feels sufficiently ominous. Our book opens with Roos, an abused child, being forced to give seances for wealthy patrons by her demanding and overbearing mother. Unlike the other mediums, who have cheap tricks, Roos has a spirit guide named Ruth, who only she can see. Ruth, a decaying corpse with an unhinged jaw, is Roos’s only companion and comfort until Agnes, a wealthy widow, crosses the threshold. Agnes whisks Roos away from her cruel mother and into a world of old money. However, as Agnes and Roos deal with their growing attraction to each other and try to heal from trauma, this new world may not be any less dangerous than the one Roos left behind.

This book has a fantastic atmosphere and a good sense for character, but the plot felt derivative and I could see the pieces that had been stolen from other gothic novels. It’s an early work from this author and I hope she finds her own voice, because if she make a few improvements in the plot area, the potential is very high. A final note, this book is gorier than some historical gothics, there is a content warning at the front and it is not messing around.

I received an advance copy of this book in exchange for this honest review.

[zutraeumen]

The Third Course

Tall, spindly evergreens shivered in the cold darkness.

On the third time the Chef clapped, his aura and open posture seemed to be lighter than on the previous courses. A heavy feeling settled in her empty stomach, the calm before the storm.

"The next course is called 'Memory' and that what it's meant to evoke: a memory. So let me tell you a memory of mine. When I was growing up, a child in Waterloo Iowa, Tuesday was Taco night."

A chorus of shallow affirmatives came from the guests as if any of them knew what a generic taco tasted like.  

"Taco Tuesday!" The Chef exclaimed lively, with a smile so forced that it even showed his teeth. It didn't look good on him. The guest kept laughing with him at his antics.

"And this," he moved happily over to Adele's table and reached for the madam again, "is my mother. As you can see she is rather drunk. This is not unusual."

That certainly explained things, but the assassin couldn't help but fear where he was taking this monologue. He certainly held the guests' amusement, but she suspected what he was about to tell them was quite the opposite. His expression lost all its previous shine and turned to its more serious variant.

"When I was seven years old, one Tuesday, my father came home, quite drunk. Really drunk. Also not unusual. My mother grew angry and screamed at him at which point he proceeded to wrap a telephone cord around her neck and pull it tight."

His mother reacted vaguely, continuing with her drinking. On what glass of wine was she already?

There was something about the way he animatedly enunciated his words with his hands that gave her chills. There was something deeply wrong with this man, he wore his trauma on his sleeve and that was in most cases, never a good sign. It made people unhinged. And there were no more dangerous people than the ones who got nothing to lose.

And she had seen the worst of humanity, of both men and women who had been through shit the common person could not even imagine.

Still, he went on without missing a single beat, without any stuttering at all, "I wept, screamed, begged him to stop. To make him stop I finally had to stab him in the thigh with kitchen scissors. You remember that mother, don't you? I suppose I should have stabbed him in the throat that evening but we're not so smart when we're young."

The diners exchange uneasy glances. Lillian turned to Ted with a reassuring look, "Don't worry, all part of the course."

Margot, however, watched the chef intently and with empathy, as if understanding his pain. Noticing, Chef locked eyes with her and said the next line directly to her,  "It was as you can imagine a very memorable taco night."

The sous-chefs marched, side by side with two plates for each customer while the Chef announced the next course, "So, here you have, house-smoked breast chicken thigh al pastor and our own tortillas made with heirloom masa - one of Hawthorne's signature dishes. We change our menu constantly but Miss Bloom knows this has been a staple since day one. It's a- what you once said...?"

"... put you on the map." The food critic supplied quickly.

"Put me on the map," Chef Slowik repeated, "precisely what map would that be, I wonder?"

Not-so-subtle dig at the food critic, he must really despise that woman. If Adele were in his shoes, she would too, with a passion. Quite a contradicting feeling to feel for someone who essentially put the man on the road to fame and success, but as for most people, there wasn't much happiness to be found in the Chef at all. 

"Anyways because we're always innovating and we fear irrelevance, an update to the classic, the images on the tortillas have been made using a laser engraving machine, it's the first time we've used it. We hope this taco night evokes strong memories for us all. Enjoy."

This was a lot to digest, in a metaphorical sense.

The others, of course, bought into that shit and wrote it off as mere theatrics of an artist. There was no way a celebrity such as Slowik would slip up so carelessly like that, it was simply incomprehensible for them with all the grandiosity surrounding their lives. Adele couldn't imagine living a life like that, distorted from reality. 

George was even inspired to use similar tactics in his own show. Lillian and Ted were impressed by the chef's rebellious streak. And for the love of god was Tyler crying?! Again? Oh no, wait, it was just a trick of light this time. Adele sighed inwardly with relief. 

Seriously, the kid was beginning to rub her the wrong way.

Not one to judge so soon, there did seem to be something inherently wrong with Tyler. She knew by now that he was a massive foodie and self-proclaimed Slowik expert but the way he went overboard was so inconsistent with everything that it stuck out. 

The chewing gum had long since lost its flavour as the assassin inspected the tortillas. The images did make the cliff in her stomach expand as she saw photos of her in various moments printed on them perfectly. Each of them more alarming than the next. 

The first one was of her waiting at the docks.

The second one was of her throwing the oyster away.

The third one was an email - her client - Anne Liebrandt had sent to the owner of Hawthorne (and the island in fact) Verrick Doug, requesting another special invitation to be issued for Adele to be able to accompany her to the restaurant.

He knew.

Cold realization engulfed the assassin. A retreat was in order so the assassin excused herself to the toilet. Slowik's mother offered very little response as always. 

[missglass]

2022, the year of great books

i had a fantastic reading year in 2022. these were some highlights in no particular order:

Susanna Clarke, Piranesi. What a peculiar little book. A man lives in a gigantic ruinous house - a kind of castle with grand halls and statues - where life is dominated by the tides of an ocean in the lower levels of the building. The protagonist is a kind man with almost child-like curiosity, he seems like a monk living with the utmost worship for this strange place. Like the house, the story unfolds like a labyrinth and as a reader you only slowly discover what exactly is going on. Best read in January by the sea.

Jonathan Franzen, Crossroads. I mean, yes, guys like Franzen rewrite the same kind of book again and again, but man, are they good at it. I'm a sucker for the same story told from multiple perspectives, and who doesn't love to think about God and a complicated relationship with faith through the eyes of one of the most pathetic protagonists I have read about in the past years, a housewife with the most unhinged backstory, and a bunch of unnecessarily dramatic children.

Kamila Shamsie, Home Fire. One of my absolute favourites. A retelling of Antigone set in modern Great Britain about three siblings - a set of twins and their older sister - whose father was a jihadist. I found the classic themes of Antigone - struggles with family, duty, sacrifice - really well updated to reflect more contemporary struggles with identity, faith, as well as political issues like immigration and the toll it can take to be pulled into two different directions: tradition/modernity, fitting in/staying connected to your roots, conforming/preserving some form of inherited cultural identity.

And yes, you obviously know how the story ends from the start, but the ending is still so heartwrenching. As we know from Fleabag, the greatest love stories are still between siblings ("the only person i'd run through an airport for is you" and such).

Ali Smith, Autumn and Summer. I have been a fan of Smith since reading "How to Be Both" and I am now three quarters through her beautiful Seasonal Quartet. I hardly know another author who writes about our contemporary times with such ease. i love how art is always present in her works and how her prose is playing sly tricks on the reader. she is sometimes so literal in her imagery that you can only think something is meant poetically or metaphorically, only to find out two sentences later how it was indeed meant literally.

Rachel Cusk, Transit and Kudos. One of my favourite discoveries of 2022. I loved reading about Faye's encounters and her conversations with friends and strangers alike. It reminds me a bit of Salinger's "Nine Stories" in the best way, enough love and squalor to please Esmé. Especially Transit was so full of great stories; Cusk really is able to capture that uncomfortable, liminal space in between two situations, to describe what it means to go through upheaval, to not know how something will turn out. To know something old - a relationship, a flat, a homecountry - was not the right fit, but not knowing at all that what will come will be any better.

Maggie O'Farrell, Hamnet and The Marriage Portrait. "Hamnet" is a fictional account of Shakespeare's youngest (real) children - insightful, inutitive twins Hamnet and Judith - as well as of their mother, Agnes (the secret protagonist). O'Farrell's descriptions of grief and quiet domesticity are very lovely. The scenery is a bit mystic or unsettling at times, especially chapters about Agnes' life, and I found the novel generally beautifully written. (As the Guardian put's it: "read it and weep").

The Marriage Portrait takes place in Renaissance Florence and also features a very insightful, inutitive child, Lucretia de' Medici, the smart and rebellious daughter of the Duke of Florence. This story is about her arranged marriage at 15 to the Duke of Ferrara, and - as stated on the first page of the book - about the rumour that her husband killed her less than a year after their wedding.

I found the book quite suspenseful, but also very tender, poetic and loving. Also, I love books about artists and seeing through their eyes how they approach their art, which was a big part of TMP.

Honorable mentions:

Stine Pilgaard, Meter pro Sekunde - features my personal favourite, most fun protagonist of 2022.

Katja Oskamp, Marzahn Mon Amour - tales of a pedicurist/podiatrist and her clients.

[moremaybank]

being the youngest mikaelson (maybe 15) and the boys being overprotective of reader and being close with Rebekah? (fem reader pls)

being the youngest mikaelson while having the boys be overprotective of you & being close with rebekah

warnings: slight violent themes (violent threat mentioned)

mikaelson siblings masterlist

being the youngest of the mikaelson siblings pretty much means that you're the child of 5 disastrous co-parents

like the time they ALL forgot about you being at school

"niklaus, you were supposed to pick up y/n from school today"

"need i remind you that i have my own actual offspring to take care of? why not ask kol, elijah? all he does is sit on his arse all day"

having to let them know your whereabouts if you don’t want them following you around the whole day

and i don't mean a text saying "at the st. james infirmary"

i'm talking full-on coordinates you got off google from pinpointing your exact location

okay, let's talk about the guys

they're all at different levels of insanity so we'll break this up

klaus: level 100

you've almost been daggered for wearing a backless dress

and for "sneaking out" (even though all you did was walk outside the compound to say hi to one of your friends that was just passing by)

don't even get me started on the look on his face when he walked into your bedroom to find you making out with your significant other without telling him

"you know, if i wasn't immortal i bet this would kill me. my littlest sister being deflowered right in front of my eyes"

"you are literally the most dramatic person on earth. deflowered? it's called kissing. and we all know you've done far worse. is your child's existence ringing any bells?"

he's always the first one to threaten any potential suitors

“if you hurt our sister in any way, your death will be spectacular. i can assure you that”

“can you relax? this is literally our first date”

now let's move onto elijah

elijah: level 50

he's the most level-headed of all the mikaelson brothers so he's not thaaat bad

he doesn't lose his mind about you unless he really has too

like that one time he caught your ex cheating on you

man went berzerk

he compelled your ex to the priesthood/nunhood (ok, he got this idea from klaus & although he's not proud of it, he has no regrets)

he's the one who's always pestering you for your location updates (especially when you started going out without your very own mikaelson-sibling bodyguard)

"you informed me that you were going to rousseau's, but i tracked your cellphone & it seems to be showing me that you're in texas. care to explain?"

look, i didn't say you made things easy on them, did i?

you're a mikaelson for god's sake

it's in your very nature to deceive your siblings and do your own thing

lastly, let's discuss kol

kol: level 1-100

the man is his own kind of unhinged if we're honest

he's super chill & then two seconds later he's lost his damn mind

"you snuck out without informing me?! are you insane?!"

*two seconds later*

"bring me next time, though. i wouldn't mind sneaking out at 2am to get drunk either"

he escorted you to a school dance once (mostly because he saw one of your teachers before and thought they were hot)

which didn't suck

it was definitely better than having klaus as your escort

but nevertheless, it did suck when he compelled anyone who wanted to dance with you to get out of his face

brothers

actually, can i rephrase that?

1000 year old, original vampire/hybrid brothers

your sisters are the best though, so let's chat about them

they aren't as overprotective because they understand the whole "independent woman" thing

rebekah always helping you with your hair & makeup when you go to fancy events or you’re going on a date

she compels random women from the street to try on the outfits you're debating so you can choose

fighting over shoes with them (mostly rebekah, she can never peacefully part with her loubitins)

freya puts a special spell on you to ensure your hair & makeup stay in place all night when you have events to go to

going out for mani/pedis with rebekah and freya

extravagant shopping sprees with one sister on each arm

rebekah and freya being your hype-women

being able to talk to them about anything & everything with them

sister spa days

binge-watching current tv shows/movies with your sisters and singing along to your favourite disney movie songs with them

~

[businesstiramisu]

I took Duane Adelier at his word for 7 years (aka I’m still not over Monday)

I first discovered Unsounded while chapter 10 was updating, so probably in late 2014 or early 2015. I've re-read it and discussed it in the Discord so much over the last seven years that at this point I don’t really remember my initial impressions, with one exception. When I got to this page in Ch. 3:

I thought “no idea who this blonde girl is but she’s definitely dead.”

(they’d just been discussing Cara too, and Duane predicted that in Cresce they’d see “more dead children dying in the dark”. So, y’know, not exactly what you’d call subtle foreshadowing)

And eventually I got to chapter 7 and sure enough

There’s been a LOT of speculation through the years that she lived though. 1) Depending on your assumptions, there was technical leeway -- we’ve seen that wounds that serious are ABSOLUTELY survivable in universe if treated by a skilled doctor -- and Bastion was right there! However, he was also interrupted in his “resurrection” of Duane by an attack that nearly killed him, so I definitely thought he wouldn’t have had the chance to treat Mikaila.

(In fact it seems REALLY telling to me that he took the time to save MIkaila from his co-conspirators’ mistakes before finishing on his Grand Experiment with Duane. Did they just need to wait for Duane to bleed out, or is this a moral choice Bastion made?)

2) Mikaila was such a loveable, easy-to-root for character in Ch. 7 that a lot of us still WANTED her to be alive. (I was definitely in that camp, despite thinking that most reasonable narrative assumptions made it implausible). Even though things were.....precarious, for her, as female wright in Alderode, we imagined bright futures where she managed to forge her own path. Unmoored from the prejudices and constraints of canon, we could imagine her as happy and successful as we wanted. or y’know unhinged anime crossovers if that’s more your speed but I digress  But now we’re getting both our wish come true and possibly a monkey’s paw... we’re getting a Mikaila who grew up in Alderode’s  apparently fraying society, under the tutelage of Lemuel or who knows who else (the wright-killer who caught her on page 122 maybe?!). She’s no longer an innocent child for us to project our fantasies onto -- are we going to like the person she became?

Aside, but I want to point out that Mikaila should be about 14 now... the same age as Lem in the Ch. 14 flashback. We saw how badly he was already doing there, has Mikaila reached that age more unscathed?

3) Even as we went back and forth on the in-story likelihoods, and what we as readers wanted, what kept me from really buying into any of the explanations of Mikaila’s survival was the *narrative* arc. We saw the impact of Mikaila’s death from Ch.3, and as the story goes on her narrative shadow over Duane only grows. If she turned out not to be dead, it would completely undermine his narrative arc and motivation. Like, it would make most of book 1 feel irrelevant.

And I think that’s my mistake -- hence the title of this little essay -- it undermines the narrative impact *from Duane’s perpective*. Which we’ve already seen hinted over and over was wrong and due for an update. Frankly, it’s really tempting now to look at this chapter as an escalation of Increasingly Big Things Duane Is Wrong About. (Though obviously there’s a lot of other things going on too.) But still....

Basically, until last week I believed Duane’s (admittedly very compelling) perspective that his arc, his tragedy, was the most important thing shaping the story until the end of this book. But it’s not. Maybe Mikaila’s struggles and takeaways from that violent night are more important. Maybe it’s something else. But the narrative weight of that tragedy has shifted -- it’s no longer about Mikaila’s death, but (from Duane’s perspective) his own misunderstanding, and I don’t think I’m explaining this very well but to me that still has a TON of narrative weight.

I wanted to get this post out before this coming week’s updates because I *do not know* what’s going to happen from here.  How is Mikaila going to react to this encounter? (did she even recognize Duane? I think not but I, uh, still haven’t backread the discord discussion so I’m probably missing a lot) What’s Lem going to tell her? And frankly WHAT IS LEM’S ANGLE both here and in Ch. 7 (that needs its own essay though)?? I’m hoping we’ll see a little bit of the fallout but that dramatic swing is also the PERFECT chance to cut away to one of our other half dozen subplots in the thick of things this chapter.

But whatever we see next, I’m fully invested in the story, and still trying to make sense of things.

So thank you Ashley!

[petri808]

N4+Inukag Ex’s Still in Love @liz8080 its angst 🙃

It had been a year since the break up, but Inuyasha was no closer to moving on and according to his best friend, neither was Kagome. He only knew what his ex was going through because their best friends were caught in the middle and providing updates. Poor Miroku and Sango, Inuyasha was sure they thought he and Kagome were idiots by this point.

Not that it was from a lack of trying, because they both were trying... maybe a little too hard to start dating again. Inuyasha had tried the typical avenues like bar hopping and even posting a profile on dating sites. But if irony wasn’t such a bitch, every single site he tried would match him to none other than Kagome Higurashi. It was fate, Miroku would coax the idea onto his friend. Yeah, well fate didn’t have to deal with reality and they were two stubborn fools unwilling to relent.

At the bars, Inuyasha’s handsome hanyo looks gained a lot of attention and the night would always start off right. Every single woman in the place took a chance to talk to him. If he liked what he saw, he’d give them a shot to butter him up, lulling them in with his molten amber eyes. Flirty conversations and flowing alcohol made for... women making excuses and leaving him to walk out single. Every. Damn. Time. Because something always sparked his ex’s introduction to the conversation. It turned out once Inuyasha was past the tipsy stage, all he wanted to do was talk about Kagome. Good or bad. It didn’t matter and according to Miroku during one very drunken evening, he’d even cried. If it wasn’t for the blackmail video, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Okay fine! So he still loved the woman! They’d been together for seven years, that’s not something you just get over quickly! She wanted kids and he was hesitant... it wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes. That’s when Kagome broke up with him.

Inuyasha swirled the drink in his hand with a low growl. “You know our world isn’t always safe,” he admonished his co-worker, a fellow Yokai named Kouga. “And she’s human, the child could be born human, and what if I can’t protect them both?”

“Stupid,” the Wolf yokai sneered back. “You’d lose the woman you love over fear? The Taisho’s son showing weakness, that’s pathetic.”

“Bite your tongue wolf. It’s not just about fear and you know it.”

“Yes, it is.” Kouga countered. “Modern times or not, that woman has spiritual blood coursing through her veins, so an offspring will most likely be a full hanyo. I suspect Kagome senses this, so it is your own fears that’s overruling you.”

“Tch, I didn’t come here for a lecture!” Inuyasha stood up from his bar stool. But as he turned to leave, his phone rang.

It was Miroku. “Something happened Inuyasha. Kagome was attacked on her way home by a yokai. No one knows who. She’s been taken to Shinkon Medical and she’s... in a coma.”

“What?!”

“It’s really bad, you should get here as soon as possible.”

Inuyasha doesn’t respond and quickly rushed out of the bar with Kouga hot on his heels.

“What’s going on?!” Kouga questioned.

“Something attacked Kagome.”

“Oh, fuck.” Kouga could see Inuyasha’s demon side manifesting, purple stripes along his cheeks and red eyes replacing gold. It must be serious.

When they arrived at the hospital, Miroku took them up to the room Kagome was in. Not that Inuyasha needed his help to track the woman’s scent, but thanks to Kouga’s steadfast hand in his shoulder, he stayed cognizant enough to follow quietly so as to not scare the staff. Sango stood just outside of the door ready for their arrival.

“Brace yourself Inu,” the woman warned, “she’s... it’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

He simply nodded shakily and walked through, leaving his friends to wait. There really was no way to brace himself for what he saw. Kagome was almost unrecognizable. She had tubes and wires hooked up to beeping machines that flashed her life on a screen. It was an unnerving sound in an otherwise deadly silent room. Her arms were all bandaged up, one leg in a cast with pins and metal sticking out, but her head... his fists clenched tighter. Her forehead was wrapped in gauze, face bruised and swollen, her nose and mouth with tubes coming out of them to keep her alive. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the blood, smelled the dried blood stuck in her hair.

It was his nightmares turned reality.

That’s when he smelt it, the lingering stench of a familiar panther yokai left on Kagome’s body. Had this been a targeted attack? Anger surged to the forefront. Inuyasha leaned down and took her hand gently while placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Regardless of reason, this yokai would pay dearly!

Inuyasha growled and sped off faster then any of his stunned friends could stop him, out of the hospital. Kouga called from behind in pursuit, but his demon side had taken over and nothing could stop him. He leapt over buildings, speeding through alleyways before humans could even register what had passed them by. There was no way to know exactly where the rogue could be, but he had a territory to start in.

The panther yokai had always hated the inu’s reign over the central part of Japan. They fought and lost an epic battle during the edo period, forever retaining a grudge. But this was a brazen attack, the first since those long ago days, and on a human?! It was unforgivable. It was because of the inu’s control that the human world was safe from the yokai inhabiting it. Most of the other’s, like Kouga’s wolf clan fell in line without any problems, and peace remained. Oh, this panther will pay dearly for trying to kill the chosen mate of the Inu no Taisho’s son!! This wasn’t the first time the two men will clash, but it will be the last.

From a rooftop, Inuyasha perched as he quickly scanned the dock area. The yokai was alone. Perfect. With a deep roar, he dropped down on top of the male before it could take off. Claws and fangs unhinged as the two males battled. Despite being a hanyo, Inuyasha’s blood was no different than a full-blooded yokai, and worse, his adrenaline and anger was without remorse due to the bloodied images of his girl lying in a hospital bed to fuel his rage. If there were any humans in this desolate part of town at night, it must have sounded like the unholy blood bath it was.

Over and over, Inuyasha tore his claws and teeth into the panther yokai’s flesh. Though he sustained some injuries of his own, Inuyasha felt nothing but the pure hatred coursing through his veins. Kouga had finally arrived as well, his screams to his friend to stop, deaf in his ears. His blood lust had taken control.

“Stop!!” Kouga roared and jumped onto Inuyasha’s back. He hooked his arms around both of his friends shoulders, lifting, and wrapping his hands behind the man’s head to restrain them from moving freely. Inuyasha thrashed hard against the hold, but Kouga refused to let go, continuously growling at the man to stop resisting. “You’re gonna kill him!”

“He deserves it!” Inuyasha countered.

“Agreed! But that’s not for you to decide my friend, so stop! He’s done!”

“Let me go Kouga!”

“Only if you’ll stop resisting. Think about Kagome, idiot! I’ll take the panther to your father for punishment, you need to get back to her!”

At hearing Kagome’s name, the human side of Inuyasha began taking back control from his inner demon. Kouga was right. If they were caught like this by authorities, being thrown in jail for murder would do her no good. Inuyasha let out a long exhale as his body slowly transformed back to normal, and he slumped in his friends arms. “You’re right.”

“I know I am, idiot.” Kouga let him go. “Now get out of here, and make sure you clean up! You don’t wanna scare the hospital people to death!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the hanyo growled, though he appreciated his friends help. “Tell my dad what’s going on and I’ll contact him as soon as I can.”

“Will do.”

It didn’t take him long to get back to his own house to clean up, and it was only then did Inuyasha realize just how far he’d gone that night. What little of his clothes was left undamaged was soaked in the blood of the panther yokai. He threw it all away and showered the filth from his body, then bandaged his wounds as best he could. By morning they’ll probably be healed, but with the adrenaline gone, the pain had also kicked in. He’d still do it all again in a heartbeat.

When he shambled back to the hospital, of course Miroku and Sango were concerned with his appearance. He assuaged their worries before flopping painfully into a chair at Kagome’s bedside.

“The doctors say she has stabled,” Sango explained now that he had time to listen. “But the shock has left her in a coma, so now we can only wait for her to wake up...” the woman paused, “there’s a small chance, Kagome may never wake up.”

Inuyasha shook his head refusing to entertain such a suggestion. “She’s strong, I know she will,” he spoke even though inside he wasn’t so sure. He just needed to hear those words of reassurance.

“You’re right.” Sango agreed. “We think so too.”

“Hang in there.” Miroku patted the hanyo’s shoulder. “We’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

“Thanks,” Inuyasha nodded weakly.

Now that he was there, the couple left him alone, safe in the knowledge that no one would bother Kagome anymore. So, at the sound of the door closing behind him, the full weight of emotions engulfed Inuyasha. The guilt tore away at what little sanity held him together. He blamed himself for her state. If he hadn’t been so stupid and stubborn to leave her alone, that panther would never have dared to strike at Kagome. She was strong, but couldn’t have fended off a surprise attack by herself.

“I’m so sorry,” the tears broke free as he held her hand tightly in his own. “Please don’t leave me, Kagome. I’ll do anything! You want kids? I’ll give you all the pups you desire, just please come back to me. I can’t— I can’t lose you. It shouldn’t have taken something like this to make me realize that I’m nothing without you.”

Inuyasha thought the pain of losing his mother at a young age was hard, but this was a thousand times worse. His soul was bonded to Kagome by choice and his heart felt shattered at the thought of never hearing her voice again. If she died, a piece of him would die along with her.

Night turned to day, and days passed by with little to no change in Kagome’s condition. Inuyasha rarely left her side, except to take care of bodily functions or shower at the behest of friends and staff. Her family, his family, and their friends visited, but at night it was just her and him alone between the stale white walls of the hospital room. For two weeks, Inuyasha didn’t get a full night sleep. Exhaustion forced him to pass out at times, only to be awaken by nightmares. To suffer along side Kagome was his penitence as far he believed.

He clung to the smallest of improvements. By week three, all the bruising and abrasions were healing well, and Kagome was taken off of the breathing tubes since she was doing it on her own. She was still fed intravenously with a high protein diet to give her body the fuel it needed to mend. To pass the time, Inuyasha would talk to her about everything and nothing, sometimes telling her stories of ancient tales, or just reading the newspaper aloud. The doctors had told him coma patients can sometimes hear them talking, so it was worth a shot.

“It’s crazy right?” Inuyasha chuckled if only to keep his sanity intact. “I’d give anything to hear you yell at me right now.” He sighed. “Just call me an idiot, because I deserve it.”

“You’re not... an idiot.”

Inuyasha sat up stunned at the beautiful sound of Kagome voice. It was soft and raspy, but music to his ears nonetheless. He squeezed her hand. “Yes, I am,” he smiled. “But it’s okay, as long as I still have you— if you’ll still have... me? I’ll give you what ever you want, Kagome. Kids, anything, just please stay with me. I love you too much to let you go again.”

This time it was Kagome who squeezed his hand weakly. “I love you too, you big idiot.”

Inuyasha leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Now there’s the woman I fell in love with.” Everything was gonna be just fine...

The banner is for my AO3

[betweentheracks]

Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 2: Fuck-ups and Textbooks

... I know I said I’d update weekly, but here we are. From now on I’ll post every Friday, if not more often. Than you for such a positive response to Chapter 1, it warms my heart! Enjoy :)

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 2, Fuck-ups and Textbooks

Chapter Summary:  You narrow in on the pool of suspects while desperately trying to convince yourself that dream psychology is a pseudoscience.

Words: 2225

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

A man stood above you, backlit, so you couldn’t see his face. You were laid supine, staring up at him - vulnerable, but unafraid. He spoke to you, but his voice and words were indistinct, muffled, as if you were underwater.

He knelt over you, placing one hand to the side of your head. It was silent, still, unmoving except for the dim lights shifting behind him. You felt your breath quicken as the figure shifted almost imperceptibly closer. His tie fell forward, dangling over your chest. It was a beautiful cerulean blue, silky and expensive looking. You reached up to touch it, and the man caught your wrist in a firm grip.

“No,” he said, his words clearer but his voice still indistinct. Low, deep, familiar… but you couldn’t place it.

He released your hand and moved his to your waist, lightly caressing, stroking downward until he caught your hipbone. Your pulse quickened and you gasped and arched upward into his touch, feeling his fingers dig in tighter in response.

“I thought so,” he murmured, swinging one leg over to cage your body with his. The hand that wasn’t gripping your hip wove into your hair and came to rest at the base of your skull, pulling your head up as he leaned down to catch your mouth with his…

Your phone alarm blared, waking you with a start. The dream slipped away, leaving you alone in your hotel bed, a noticeable wetness between your legs.

“God fucking damn it; I can’t have anything,” you muttered, throwing off your blanket and hopping into the shower. You hadn’t dreamed about sex in a while, hadn’t thought about sex in a while, too preoccupied with proving yourself at work. The dream left a longing in its wake, one that would unfortunately have to be addressed at a later time, because you stayed in the shower far too long and needed to meet Hotch and Morgan downstairs.

____________

You bustled into the lobby, clutching your case files and coffee. The others stood by the front entrance, facing away, seemingly discussing something amongst themselves. Hotch turned at the sound of your heels clicking towards them. You smiled, nodding your head in greeting, and-

Oh my god.

You froze in your tracks, face feeling suddenly numb. You registered Hotch frowning in confusion, but you couldn’t say anything to reassure him, not yet.

His tie.

It was the same one, the one that draped over your bare chest in the dream last night, the one attached to the man who you’d been thinking about all morning despite never seeing his face. The same one that hung loosely around Hotch’s neck last night on the balcony, the one that made you feel so voyeuristic that you couldn’t make conversation with him knowing its unknotting exposed his throat, making him appear stripped bare in comparison to the tailored suits he practically lived in.

“You alright, kiddo?” Morgan asked. “I mean, I know I’m a stop-you-in-your-tracks kinda guy, but I woulda thought you’d be used to that by now, huh?”

Morgan’s lighthearted cockiness gave you the boost you needed to shake your head and keep walking forward. “Sorry, thought I forgot my phone. I’m good. Let’s go, what’s the plan?”

Hotch seemingly accepted your answer, but kept his eyes on you as you got into the car. “Local police have rounded up friends and family of the California victim at the station. I’d like you to take the lead on interviews today. Morgan and I will be available should you have any questions, but we’re going to search our victim’s apartment first. Is that alright?”

It wasn’t actually a question, of course, but you gave verbal confirmation just the same. After the incident last week, you wanted a chance to prove yourself in an interview setting with a slightly less hostile subject.

They dropped you off at the station with instructions to compare notes with Prentiss, JJ, Reid, and Rossi after each interview. After setting up the room and conducting a tearful conversation with the victim’s mother, your first interview of the day, a conference call with the others in Arizona and Nevada revealed that the team had missed something big in the initial review of victims: they had all attended the same small, liberal arts college in San Diego.

“So, uh, who wants to tell Hotch?” asked Emily over the phone. Silence on the line, but you could tell what the others were thinking - no one wanted to be the one to deliver the news that you had overlooked such a clear commonality in the victim profiles - one that could have led you to an obvious suspect pool hours ago.

“The most fair way to decide this would be a random selection tool, here, I can pull one up on my phone,” replied Reid, accompanied by tapping sounds as he typed something in.

“No, she can do it, she’s with Hotch already,” said Rossi. “Let’s not waste time on this. Let us know what he says.” The others murmured their sympathies, but ended the call just the same, satisfied with avoiding Hotch’s quiet brand of wrath for the time being.

Sighing, you slumped in your chair in the interview room. Best to just get it over with. You dialed and held your breath, but not for long, as he picked up on the first ring.

“What did you find?” he asked, expectant.

“I just got off the phone with the others, and, it… it looks like they all attended the same college. PLNU, here in San Diego.”

A few beats of complete silence on the other end. You cringed, holding the phone away from your head like it was a bomb about to go off.

After what felt like ages, he responded. His voice was low, stern as always, but it had a clipped quality that you recognized as the closest you’d ever seen Agent Hotchner get to rage. “How did we not find this out during preliminary research?” he asked.

“Well, um, two of them didn’t actually graduate from there, so it wasn’t immediately obvious,” you offered.

More silence.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’re right though, we should have figured this out earlier. I’m sorry, I’ll -”

He interrupted you. “Thank you, I’ll tell Garcia to get a suspect pool together.” Line dead.

You sighed and laid your head in your hands. As far as tough conversations go, that was easy on the surface - hell, you’d had bosses scream at you when you worked retail for something much less consequential. But Hotch was different - he commanded respect without demanding it, and he had a way of making you feel like the only true measure of success was his praise, and by that same vein, his disappointment made you feel like an utter failure. For a man so cold and closed off, he drew the attention and admiration of everyone around him. When you started your internship, JJ had filled you in on what happened to his family - both wife and child murdered by one of their subjects. You weren’t sure how a man who had gone through that was still standing, much less working in the field that exposed them to that danger in the first place. But that was Aaron Hotchner, right? There was a reason that any member of his team would take a bullet for him without a second thought.

You’d only known him for a month, but you thought you probably would too.

____________

The rest of the interviews progressed smoothly, and you found out through conversation with your fellow team members that all three victims had taken a class with the same TA. One of them had mentioned a creepy teaching assistant to her friends at one point or another, shaping this up to hopefully be a pretty clear case of unhinged stalkerdom. Why the grandiosity in transporting and hiding the bodies no one was quite sure, but you, Morgan, and Hotch were on your way to his house along with a SWAT team to figure that out.

When you pulled up outside his address, a little yellow bungalow in La Jolla, you felt your upper lip start to sweat. Morgan and Hotch were pulling on their vests, checking their guns, and you, an intern without weapons privileges (or training, for that matter) were hiding behind the corner of the SUV.

“Remember, we don’t know if this is our guy!” Morgan yelled to the other officers. “We need him alive, don’t go shooting for no reason, got it?”

Hotch turned to you hurriedly before they moved across the street to enter the home. “You okay?” he asked, placing his hand on your upper arm.

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you, looking into your face intently. "There’s several officers waiting with you out here, this will take less than two minutes.”

You nodded again, unsure how to tell him that you weren’t afraid for yourself, but for them. For him. He was indestructible, fearless, more than twice your age with more than 20 times the experience in the field. But you still felt an innate urge to be there, to protect him in case something went wrong.

His potential as a cult leader is really being wasted at the BAU. Hell, I’d die for him.

Therapy, you decided. You needed therapy.

Hotch nodded, oblivious to your internal conflict, dropped his hand from your arm, and headed towards the house with the others. You heard Morgan yell, a loud bang as he presumably kicked the door in, and more shouting. Your breath hitched in your throat as you counted the seconds, dreading the sound of gunshots.

Luckily, it didn’t come. They exited the house, striding towards you. Hotch’s hair had been disheveled in the commotion, falling onto his forehead. He raked it back with one hand, sighing.

“Nothing. Doesn’t look like he fled, but Garcia didn’t mention anything about him being at work during this time. Morgan’s gonna call her and see if she can find a location; let’s search the house.”

You nodded and followed him, feeling guilty for your overwhelming sense of relief that the suspect hadn’t been home. Morgan stood in the front yard, charming Garcia on the phone. You smiled. It was only a matter of time before those two stopped being idiots and admitted their love for each other; you couldn’t imagine being one of the more seasoned team members that has dealt with their antics for years.

Trailing Hotch through the front door, you noticed immediately how… bare the home was. The furniture was all standard IKEA gray (you recognized it, having furnished your apartment on a budget), the walls were absent of any decoration, and there wasn’t a single knick-knack or distinguishing piece that made it appear as if someone actually lived there. The obvious plainness stood in stark contrast to the sunny exterior and palm trees and other greenery surrounding the home.

Morgan strode in behind you, apparently having concluded his flirting session. “Cozy, huh?”

You nodded. You didn’t have much experience profiling suspects’ living quarters, but you didn’t need to be an expert to know that something was off here.

“Split up. Take the bedroom,” Hotch directed, nodding in your direction. “Tell me if you find anything.”

The bedroom was just as unremarkable as the rest of the house. You tore through drawers of neatly folded clothing, pulled out mounds of blank notebooks from the desk, dug through a trashcan filled to the brim with just tissues (you truly didn’t want to know), and just when you were sure there was absolutely nothing of import to discover about this guy, you pulled up the corner of the mattress to find what must have been dozens of books on criminal psychology stacked within the bedframe.

The suspect was very notably not a TA for a criminal psychology class.

“Uh, Agent Hotchner? Sir? I think I found something,” you called out.

Hotch appeared in the doorway. “Show me.”

You pulled up the corner of the mattress, gesturing for him to look underneath. Moving closer, he placed his hand on your lower back, and looked over your shoulder.

“Criminal psychology?” he asked, unmoving.

You nodded, glued to your position, breathing shallowly, wanting to move to examine the books but effectively pinned between Hotch and the foot of the bed. Your gaze shifted to the left slightly, and you were met with an eye level view of-

That fucking tie. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He moved away to pull the stack of books out of its hiding place, and the muscles in your lower back where his hand was resting suddenly relaxed. You berated yourself internally for being so weird around him - it was a tie, for fuck’s sake, something that your mind had picked up on yesterday and inserted purposelessly into your dream.

Dream psychology is bullshit, you reassured yourself for probably the hundredth time today.

Hotch began to leaf through the books, and you saw that certain passages had been intensely highlighted and circled, with notes scribbled in the margins. He paused to read a few of them before snapping the textbook he was holding shut and standing up.

“Let’s get these packed up and go through them back at the hotel. It’s getting late.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Primary Organs, Mama Lives in My Mouth, Phantom Limbs & Slaughter the Animal | Short Story Update

Hey People of Earth!

Today I’ll be updating y’all on FOUR short stories I recently(ish) finished drafting because it’s been so long since I last updated you on short fiction! TW: suicide, death, trauma, animal cruelty.

Plot: Six-year-old Eileen watches the body of her dead mother from the driveway of her neighbour’s house after her mother commits suicide.

Genre: Literary fiction, short fiction

POV: First person, present tense

Word count: 2342

Characters:

Eileen

Main character

SOFT

Danny

Eileen’s 18-year-old neighbour

Confused and doesn't know what to do

Ma

We obviously don’t know much about her because she’s dead at the start of the story, and we learn little of her through Eileen’s lens

I wrote this story in March for a contest (I didn’t end up submitting) as I was writing Mama Lives in My Mouth which has similar characters, and side-tangented this draft. At the time, it was one of my favourite things I’d written, but some newer work which I’ll talk about are FIGHTING for its spot. Drafting this was so painless, and the voice is a favourite I’ve written because of the lens we’re looking through (a six-year-old girl who clearly doesn’t understand her mother is dead, and the reason why her mother is dead). The story itself doesn't take place for more than 5-10 minutes, and is literally Eileen and her neighbour Danny observing her mother’s dead body while Danny speaks to a 911 operator. Because of the content, it’s my saddest story, and that’s made worse by the innocent narrative.

Publication status: unpublished, rejected 7 times (I’m! sad!), actively seeking

Plot: After her child nearly drowns, a mother shrinks herself so she can live in her child’s mouth, thereby staying close to her child and evading rent costs that have hiked due to gentrification. (lol) (sorry not sorry)

Genre: Literary fiction, flash fiction

POV: First person, present tense

Word count: 536

Characters:

Mama

Overprotective, but wants the best for her child

May or may not have an affair with her child’s dentist

Her child

Our narrator, though they experience the story in detached ways as they don’t really know what’s going on

The dentist

Potential love interest for Mama

Publication status: I haven’t shared this on here, but this story is being published! Last year, I was published in Young Voices 2019, and will be in their 2020 issue with my sister @sarahkelsiwrites​ (literal publication sister) which will come out mid Fall. I’m hyped about it!

This story has more “lore” than the others because I began writing it a year and a half ago and only recently finished the draft (which I talk about in THIS vlog). This story was originally called “Phantom Limbs in D Minor” which I prefer in sound, but the D Minor bit just never fit with the story! Sad :(

Plot: 20-year-old Linda shouldn’t be this methodically detached to her everyday life, but a year after her mother’s death, she finds herself in this exact situation, living in a phantom-like state. Acting as a live-in designer for her sister Mel and Mel’s boyfriend Fraser, Linda can’t seem to reconnect with herself post her mother’s death until Fraser interrupts her regimented routine with a request.

Genre: Literary fiction, short fiction

POV: Third person, present tense

Word count: 6199

Characters:

Linda (20)

Our semi-unhinged, but still soft, MC

Very detached from herself and though it’s not canon, there’s clear textual evidence she suffers from OCD

Mel (24)

Well meaning, but sort of overbearing older sister of Linda

Mel turned out kinder than I initially judged, and though she’s a bit self-centred, she does deeply care for her sister

Fraser (20s?)

Mel’s boyfriend. In Linda’s words, he’s unkind.

This story was bizarre to draft as it came together over a long period of time. Thematically and also in general, I didn’t know what the story wanted to be, and after drafting, was surprised at how much of a “nothing happens” story it is. I think Linda’s characterization is strong and I do like it! The opening is still one of my favourites, especially in terms of imagery.

Publication status: Not currently seeking. I definitely want to let it sit before I start sending it out!

Plot: 13-year-old Dorothy moves from Ontario to British Columbia after her parents’ divorce where she meets Ginny and Carver, a set of twins who seem both interested in the preservation of animal life and the repercussions of harming it.

Genre: Literary fiction, short fiction

POV: First person, retrospective past tense

Word count: 4340

Characters:

Dorothy “Dot” or “Dottie”

VERY soft but also ROASTS

Our narrator

Loves all animals, is vegetarian

Mother

Dorothy’s mother

Kind of textbook How Not to Be a Parent

Cares about her daughter, but is a bit misguided

Carver & Virginia “Ginny”

Fraternal twins, children of the woman who runs the boarding house Dorothy and her mother move to

Kind of the same person, with both being unfeeling, apathetic, curious, and vegetarian.

I adored writing this story. To date, the opening is the best opening I have ever written IMO in terms of prose. I got this idea for this story after praying to the short fiction gods for a short story idea! I was sitting in my backyard hammock looking up through the trees, one of which is a plum tree. My dog began barking at this gating my dad put up and the idea followed along this exact pattern, with Dorothy sitting in her backyard hammock with her dog etc. However, after this magnificent writing session where I drafted the first 1200 words, the next day, I couldn’t tap back into the story. Frustrated, I tried tinkering with it, but ultimately gave it a rest for about two weeks. Two days ago, I opened the story and the muse guided me to the end, which was pretty magical! Overall, I’m satisfied with the story. The prose is some of my best and I love the character work. It’s also my first ever time writing twins (I am a twin myself!), which was difficult at first. This is also my first explicitly CanLit (TM) story! Please publish me!

Publication status: Not currently seeking, but I will in the future!

That’s an update on these short stories! I have enough full-length fiction pieces that I’m thinking of starting a collection (I’ve written 7 non-flash pieces, 4-5 of which would most likely fit the collection), so in the interim, I shall be brainstorming names. Surprisingly, the pieces fit together quite well (I’m thinking they will be The Species is Dead, Primary Organs, Phantom Limbs, Slaughter the Animal, and *maybe* NYC in Your Apartment). But for now, that’s it!

--Rachel

[onetrainscifi]

Whoo. That pilot was--a lot to unpack. Parts of it were definitely 😬 *cringe* but I also find myself grateful that the network recognized its potential and liked the heart of it enough to bring on a new creative team.

Like, reading all the slides with Cleo I realized what I'd been missing in Zarah-this pilot really stressed the loving relationships of the murdered man's family and actually let Cleo react to his death while our Zarah told Layton a grand total of ONCE that Sean Wise was 'someone she loved' but then never mentioned/mourned him (or her other partners who just? disappeared?? They were led away in handcuffs, were they ever released? Were they drawered? Did they blame Zarah and therefore just never return to the home they'd shared? What side did they take in the rebellion? Like, what happened to these people?!) again. And from that moment on her character seemed so untethered--so unattached to the rest of what was taking place because she had no emotional center. This great, traumatic event that should have been both her character motivation and kept her tethered to the action/investigation was just kinda--swept to the side. Like, if we had gotten a Zarah who was more like Cleo, who pestered Layton, regardless of their thorny past, for updates on the investigation and had to be the rock for her mourning family and who stood solidly with Miss Audrey in righteous anger for the blue-eyed firstie who did this horrible thing--I would've enjoyed her so much more! And Ugh! Jinju and Till being supportive and cute From The Start(!) was 😍. Just--the fact that the focus on healthy love and affection happened to be centered on a polyamorous family and a lesbian couple was great.

But there were other things in the Pilot that seemed so-tonally different and just questionable. Like maayyybe making Layton a chronole 'stoner' was an indicator that parts of his character were drawn not just from the hero Curtis in the movie but also Namgoog, the security specialist. And mayyybe they weren't trying to be completely blind to the fact that their black protagonist deserves as much heart and conviction as his white counterpart in the movie, but. Yikes. Making him addicted to chronole and so...morose/spaced out all the time robs him of that drive and conviction that would make me believe any of the Tailies would rally behind him. Our Layton is a go-getter, a man of action and this guy in the pilot was...not. So...props to Graeme for making our Layton so much better!

But also--WHY would they choose to stress to us that Osweiller is a footballer JUST to freeze his foot off? In both the show and film the limb removal scenes really hammered home how cruel the HUMANS on the train chose to be to each other. And the freezing of the cattle car itself should've been enough to remind us the world outside is treacherous and inhospitable--they didn't have to try so hard to show us that any act of kindness or altruism on the train is futile. Like after seeing THAT, what the hell could possibly help move Till in the direction of choosing compassion and justice for the Tail?!

But I digress-I think the areas I'm most grateful for change were in regards to our season 1 powerhouses, Layton and Melanie. And some of it was so subtle but made SUCH a difference, like pilot Melanie's quirk was tapping her acrylic nails against her teeth--a sign that 1) she's perfectly happy reaping the benefits of 1st class life and 2) she's always thinking/conniving/SCHEMING. But OUR Melanie has a habit of rubbing her neck when she's stressed--as if THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD/HUMANITY IS ON HER SHOULDERS. Pilot Melanie is also uppity and shows up early to catch people off-guard. Our Melanie is quiet and studious when we first meet her-gauging the situation, letting Layton and others reveal their hand first-and she shows up late/after the main players are already gathered BECAUSE SHE HAS TO BE EVERYWHERE. But honestly I think the change I am absolutely most grateful for (aside from pretty much everything, lol. Like, I canNOT IMAGINE Alison Wright as Lilah instead of Ruth. And letting Miles actively seek the engineer apprenticeship to help the rebellion instead of having Layton(?) who is neither this child's father nor his active mentor (literally all they do is wrangle rats together in the pilot) make that choice for him WITHOUT his actual mother's consent was clearly a stroke of genius. As was just...not focusing so much on cow 18. Like. We get it. They're like animals crammed together in a cattle car. There is no reason to make so many Holocaust references in the first five pages of the script. There are other, far less jarring ways to convey human suffering and misery on this fictional show about a manmade Armageddon. -_-) is the ommission of the shady magistrate as part of the leadership/inner circle/cult.

Having him and that other guy making the decisions/embodying the ACTION of those decisions moving forward if this pilot had been their opener would've really detracted from the heft of Melanie's secret--like in the finished product, we have Melanie behind the curtain, an engineer by trade who clung to this cruel/unfair system all for the sake of keeping the train, the thing she built and the hope it represents, ALIVE and moving. It was a choice that didn't feel like a choice. A necessity. And yet she was changed by it. The mask of Wilford is harsh and she has to become harsh. She wears all these hats and leans on others when she has to (like Ben, Jinju, etc) or when a situation is truly dire, but there is no room for doubt that it is HER decision at the end of the day. She's the one who saves the train over and over when mechanics fail. And she's the one who decides to commute LJ's sentence. The Wilford mask/veil has allowed her the freedom to make these absolute decisions without oversight-so SHE alone bears the brunt of the consequences. There's no one else to blame, which made for some of the most delicious drama on the show when that secret was brought to light. How Melanie related to individuals (like Ruth, Layton, etc.) and how she related to the passengers as a whole was suddenly, VIOLENTLY, upended and allowed for really tense character moments.

And we wouldn't have gotten that if they had kept the shady magistrate stepping in to try to strong arm Jinju and others into doing the cult's will.

Like, maybe it could've panned out in a satisfying way but I will never forget how excited I was when we got the "I have the train" exchange in the first episode that revealed it was a WOMAN at the helm. A smart, cunning, hard to read but delightful to watch woman who'd been hiding in plain sight, in a uniform that screams 'subservient' and 'service' but had been popping up continually in places and spaces that seemed better suited to the men running the investigation and security/murder squad-this woman is shown to be in charge of it. ALL of it. The good (the beautiful aquarium, life in perfect balance, etc.) AND the bad (the Tail and it's horrors). THAT moment was really the one where I thought "I'm hooked. I wanna see where this goes." And so I'm so glad they cut the magistrate - and cult, honestly - out.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble! Thanks for sharing that pilot stuff! It has given me much to think about! :)

Breaking this down into parts again here we go!

1. Yes!! Exactly!! Cleo was given so much depth and room to grieve and have that actually be part of her storyline unlike Zarah. So I did really like that.

2. They made Layton SO much better good god. Like. Thankfully they improved his character.

3. I don't honestly know?? Like maybe to show what it does to humans?? No idea.

4. Y e a h exactly. We all love an unhinged woman but pilot Melanie was...yikes. Like...she genuinely seemed so happy to be in 1st class and have this power to be Wilford's chosen hospitality worker and scare people. And Alison Wright as Lilah would be so cute though, I wanna see it akdjsksi

5. YEAH THE MAGISTRATE GUY IS JUST REALLY NOT IT. He is not who we want he's just?? Seemingly one of the second in commands in Melanie's cult, which is odd but oh well.

[youngerdrgrey]

easy there, oedipus (or, how to get away with impregnating your law professor) [DRAFTS 2]

about: alternatively titled, how to get away with impregnating your law professor and secretly parenting your child; or moments from a fic unwritten, updated and revamped for a season that only feeds into my need for Annalise and Wes to fall into the abyss together. — takes place in season 3

a/n: Drafts from before the show hurt me w/ season three’s finale; shared in case anyone wanted more of the story -- here are some vignettes and headcanons about the story.

.

.

Getting Away With… Annalise and Michaela bonding

At some point in the pregnancy, Annalise gets sick and Wes is there, every night, with her, feeding her, helping her, calling the doctor.

Asher says, “Mommy issues.”

Connor says, “Better him than us.”

.

Michaela brings soup and some magazines one night, but she feels dumb once she gets upstairs. Annalise takes pity on her and tells her to come in the damn room and sit down (Ms. Pratt).

Michaela sits, on the edge, with the soup still in her hands and the potholder in her lap. They sit in silence until Annalise tells her to talk.

“About what?”

“Anything. Except the next exam.”

So, Michaela talks about moving on from Aiden, and how Connor’s still fake going to NA, and how Laurel makes the best cheesecake, even if it’s pity food. How she wishes sometimes that she could’ve just loved someone like Wes because everyone is so lucky to have a guy like him around, and how she hopes that she gets to meet the baby (and she can totally do that even if Annalise doesn’t keep her around so it’s not, like she’s being presumptuous, she swears).

She keeps talking until Annalise drifts off, and Wes comes back and slips onto the edge of the bed like he belongs there. No hesitation. He doesn’t lie down, or get too close, but the ease in his shoulders the moment he sees Annalise -- Michaela leaves.

Leaves and bites on her tongue next time someone brings up Mommy issues.

.

.

Getting Away With... Laurel’s Q&A

Later, when people know, Laurel asks what Wes got out of this — out of a kid that he can’t claim publicly and a woman who will never, ever be his.

He thinks of the way Annalise’s hands shook around the pregnancy test, the tears in her eyes, the unspoken plea for him to let her have this, the thank you on her lips and soon on his before he slid his lips from hers and hung his head so his forehead rested against hers and his breath landed against the tears on her cheek, and he said, “No one can ever know. Can they?”

“We’ll know,” she’d said, as if that was enough, as it no one else in the world even began to matter.

“Another one of our secrets.”

~ In the moment with Laurel, he says that no one’s ever looked prouder of him, no one as thankful and grateful and just happy that he existed. He says it might be messed up to keep a baby to make someone happy, but

Well, it worked.

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.

Getting Away With… telling everyone

Annalise calls all of them to attention from the bottom of the stairwell. It’s only been a few weeks since she found out, but the way her eyes meet Wes’ tell him everything he needs to know about what this team conversation is about.

Everyone shifts as she walks closer. She stops on the rug she bought to replace the one Sam got rolled up in.

“Now, normally, I wouldn’t bother telling you all something like this, but it will affect the way I work and therefore affect all of you as well.”

She unclasps her hands from where they’ve been hanging in front of her and places them both on her stomach. Wes can hear the squeak of a gasp that comes from Michaela and feels the shift in the couch as Laurel leans in closer.

“I’m pregnant,” Annalise says, “and I will do my best to keep everything the same around here. I’ll have more appointments, but you’ll have Bonnie whenever I can’t be here. Any questions?”

Her eyes scan their faces. Michaela’s jaw looks slightly unhinged. Laurel looks pensive. 

Asher narrows his eyes and asks, “Who’s the father?”

All eyes whip to him as Annalise bristles. 

“If I’d meant for you to know, I would’ve told you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She heads for her office.

The rest of the team wait for the doors to slide closed before throwing pillows and hissing, “Asher!”

“What, it’s an honest question!”

Connor ignores him, turning in his chair to face the other three of the group, especially Michaela. “Can you believe Mom’s replacing us?”

Michaela rolls her eyes. “God, Connor, don’t call her that.” He shrugs. She goes on, “And Annalise isn’t replacing anyone. A baby can’t practice law.”

“Ten bucks says that kid grows up just like us,” Connor says.

Wes imagines their kid will be different. He could see his kid as a toddler, tossing papers out of boxes on the floor and crawling inside to make his own little court room. Wes could play fake judge, or fake jury, if all the stuffed animals will let him join.

Michaela claps her hand in Connor’s, bringing Wes back to the moment.

“You’re on,” she says. “No one wants to be their parents.”

Asher scoffs. “Hey.”

“Sorry, no one interesting wants to be their parents.”

Asher glowers and corrects, “Parent. She’s totes going in solo since Nate’s gone MIA.”

“It’s not Nate’s,” Wes says. It gets quiet, and eyes snap to him -- three sets, equal parts guilty and worried. He clears his throat, schools his voice. “The timing’s off. She should’ve been showing a while ago if it was Nate’s.”

Asher shrugs. “She has been gaining weight. I didn’t want to say anything before, but—“

Everyone’s glaring at him. He stops. Laurel rolls her eyes.

“She’d probably tell us if we asked. We’ve known worse secrets.”

Connor scoffs. “She bit his head off ten seconds ago, Einstein.”

Laurel scoffs right back. “Not who, genius; when.”

Michaela nods. “You’re right. And we kind of deserve to know anyway since when she’s due will affect when classes are cancelled. If we have to take breaks in our case load, if—“

“She’s gonna be a raging bitch for finals.”

“Asher!”

He throws his hands in the air. “Legitimate question! Again!”

And he’s right, to some degree. Her emotions will be changing for sure. Her due date’s not right for finals though. It’ll be next school year actually, and Wes’ll be someone else’s student, and — everybody’s staring at him.

Wes fidgets. “What? Why’re you looking at me?”

“You’re the favorite,” Connor says.

“If anyone’s gonna ask…” Michaela tries to smile.

Laurel sighs. “We could all try, together, but studies show: you’re the one she trusts the most.”

Wes bounces in his seat before getting up and heading to the office. He knocks. Bonnie opens it, sees him, and sighs.

“It’s not a good time,” Bonnie says.

“I get that. I just have a question. We all do,” Wes says.

Bonnie glances at the others. “Stop conspiring and get back to work.”

The others look down. Wes rolls his shoulders.

“You gonna let me through?”

She does.

He gets to Annalise whose face looks like it does around one of her vomiting spells. Shit, is that why it’s not a good time? He should leave then, shouldn’t he? He already knows when she’s due, and he can just go tell them the answer without asking.

Only, he has a really good excuse to be in here, and he doesn’t get many of those, and there’s so much that he wants to say and ask, so he clears his throat.

Her eyes snap up — wide and alarmed — but they flatten out once she notices who it is.

“Mr. Gibbins.” A warning dressed like a greeting. Definitely not a good time. But she did just tell everyone she’s having his baby, so she doesn’t get to send him away just yet.

The door’s still cracked; Bonnie’s right there and is no doubt listening in since Annalise hasn’t dismissed her yet.

Wes gets closer, to the desk, staying on his side though. “You don’t look so good.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“I just meant — sorry, I —“ suck at this dad thing already. He frowns. “Do you need anything?”

“It would be nice if I could keep my lunch down, but I’m not getting picky.”

He almost groans. Of course Annalise would stand strong through morning sickness. She’ll stand strong through it all — the cravings, the swelling, the mood swings and near insatiable appetite for se—

“Wes?”

“Huh?”

“I asked, why are you in here?”

“Right. Sorry. Again.” He scratched the back of his head. “We all — well, they, not that I’m not also curious, but when is the baby due?”

Annalise looks confused a moment, then she tells him, “October 23rd.”

He shouldn’t feel pride at the sound of that. It’s a date — a bunch of letters and numbers. It’s not a baby. It’s not something to smile about. Yet, his cheeks burn just the same.

“Right before Halloween,” he says. “You’ll have to dress them up.”

“Them?” she repeats, eyes widening back.

He scrambles out. “Gender neutral pronoun, not saying you’re having twins.” Unless… “Are you?”

“I certainly hope not. I’ve already got my hands full with everyone out there. I don’t need two more lives to protect.”

He winds around a pen on her desk. He can’t look at her while he says, “You wouldn’t be alone.”

The air gets really still, like no one anywhere in the house wants to move or even begin to dissect the almost hesitantly wistful way he’d said that sentence.

“I figured.” Annalise shifts in her seat, and her voice comes out stronger, more assured and planned. “You don’t think I’m paying for a nanny when I’ve got capable interns, do you?”

A groan’s heard from the living room. Wes finds a way to breathe again, turns his next exhale into an almost laugh.

“Just make sure Michaela takes off her ring first.”

It’s not funny, but he laughs just the same. Annalise too.

(In the living room, Michaela pouts, and maybe this won’t have to be so hard. Maybe, somehow, they can make this work.”)

.

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Getting Away With... Financial Support

A week after Wes agrees to keep their secret, Annalise gives him some money. He starts freaking out, like “Why are you doing this?” and he low-key accuses her of trying to buy his silence.

Well, not low-key.

He’s like, “What — you don’t want me to tell anyone and now you’re giving me money? That’s not the way this works. I’m not gonna tell anyone like it hurts all of us.”

Annalise bristles. “How could you even think I would do something like that?” She knew that his loan still wasn’t going through. (She had Frank check.) She wanted to make sure that he got the chance to stick around. For all of them.

And it’s his turn to be like, “Oh.” Fuck. “Annalise—“

“Save it. Either take the money or don’t. Spare me your apologies. You can think the worst of me all you’d like.”

“It’s not— I’m sorry.” He stresses it. “No one outside of my family has ever helped me without wanting something in return.” He steps closer but not close enough to touch her. “I’m no good at saying thank you.”

She barely softens, but she does. “You better learn soon. I’m not really the type to sit on my hands.”

“Noted.”

She looks a moment longer, then goes back to her files. “You may go.”

He lingers, heads for the door, pauses. “Thank you.”

She grins (not that he looks to see). “You’re welcome.”

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Getting Away With... Mama Harkness’ Return

Mama Harkness watches him a moment too long. He shifts. She shakes her head.

“What’s so special about you?” He’s a bit confused. “Lord knows this wasn’t the only time Anna slept with someone she shouldn’t.”

He sputters. “I — ma’am, you—“

“You gon’ lie to me, boy?”

Beat. “No, ma’am.”

“Thought so. Now, I’m not telling nobody what I know. I just want you to know that I know it. And I’m watching you. You hear me?”

.

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Getting Away With... Names and Michaela Finding Out

Connor calling little man bible verses, like “316, how you been, buddy?”

Laurel calls him Matt.

Michaela calls him Matthew and tells him to grow into it and respect it because nicknames don’t do anything but allow us to hide from our full potential.

Wes calls him kid a lot.

.

At another time, when something’s wrong with the baby, they all rush to the hospital. Wes tries to get in the room, in full intense Dad mode, but Connor catches him by the shoulders. Says, “Easy there, Oedipus, you can’t go in there.”

Michaela snaps at Connor for being insensitive when they’re all worried. Connor slips up and mutters, “But it’s their baby so, ugh.”

Michaela repeats it, “Their baby.” Then again, as Connor’s, Laurel’s, and Wes’ eyes all go wide. She sputters, and everything just clicks. “My God.”

“Michaela—“

“He’s —”

Wes shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this.” Storms off to try and get into the room.

Michaela slaps Connor’s arm, hard as shit. “How long have you known?”

“A couple weeks—“

“WEEKS?”

“But I couldn’t tell you—“

“You tell me everything! You told me when you changed your toothpaste!”

“This wasn’t my secret to tell.”

She gets that, she really does, it just sucks finding out so late. Annalise is struggling to hold on, baby Matthew’s got heart problems, and — “Oh, God, Wes.” He must be a mess.

.

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Getting Away With... Keeping the Baby?

So, they reach a point where Annalise finds out that basically keeping the baby in longer could kill her. They’re at the hospital, and Wes is in the room when they hear the news. The doctors leave them alone to process, and Annalise is speechless.

Wes tries to find some words. He tells her that he — well, he doesn’t know what to do, or say. He’s finally maybe on the right track with Annalise towards something they can have and sustain, and now the baby’s really sick and Annalise could die?

He clears his throat and says, “I want to be here. I do. I just....”

And she gets him. Tells him, “Get some air. I’ll get some here.” 

He nods and he almost chokes on whatever it is inside of him. He says, “Five minutes. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Then he rushes the fuck out of there.

.

Michaela and Connor come in together. They saw Wes run off, and Laurel went after Wes, but it’s Michaela and Connor who go in to see Annalise first.

Michaela can’t really form words right away.

Connor says, “Look, we really kinda need our jobs, and your house, and... you. You’re not like our mom or anything, but we need you too.”

Michaela squeaks in agreement, and then she says that if anyone could get through this, it would be Annalise. “Whatever you decide, we will stand by you. It’s what you’ve trained us to do.”

Annalise tells them to get it together or get out. They hug her. She tries not to cry.

.

Bonnie and Frank want her to let the baby go, but they also know she won’t, so they’re making plans and schedules on who will be monitoring her, and when and for how long. They immediately make plans and deals with nurses to reserve a bed in the NICU for the baby.

.

Wes literally goes outside and starts wailing on dumpsters and screaming. 

Laurel mentions that they should invest in soundproof rooms at hospitals for this purpose. She reminds him that he freaked out less when Sam died than now.

He tells her that this has to be karma. This is what happens when you kill a woman’s husband and then get her pregnant. “God laughs at you. He gives you everything you could have possibly imagined. He gives you the possibility of having a family, a real one that will support you and care for you and foster you into who you’re meant to be. And then just when it seems like maybe everything’s going to work out, He rips them away from you.”

Laurel says, “Wes, it’s not karma —“

“It is! I did this! I killed her.”

“You didn’t—“

His finger jams into his chest so hard that she fears he’s gonna break it. “I got her pregnant. I gave her this hope. And now she’s gonna die. Because of me.”

“Because her heart’s overworked.”

“No, because I protected Rebecca instead of —“

“Instead of what? Letting Sam kill her? Listen to yourself.”

“I can’t! I can’t even think right now. I should be in there with her, comforting her, saying whatever it is she needs to hear to make the right decision and save herself over this baby. Only… only…”

He has tears in his eyes, and Laurel understands why.

“You want the baby.”

A tear slips out, and Wes groans. “I want her so badly.”

.

They decide to go with Bonnie and Frank’s plan -- have the baby but stay on top of everything. They’ve lost enough people in this life, and they’re not losing anyone else.

.

.