What’s up y'all it’s 4 am so I’m not sure how much sense this is gonna make but hey consider:
The Mayor’s an adult, the only adult on a rock full of messed up kids. Do you think he ever tried to take on the role of surrogate guardian and tried to act something like a father figure? Probably just super basic stuff like just making sure they take care of themselves and showing interest in the stuff they’re doing and just being there if they need it.
I feel like something like that would really resonate with Dave, who’s never experienced anything close to paternal affection before. He probably wouldn’t know how to react to it until he’d been on the meteor long enough to get comfortable and his base reaction to having someone in his life who actually cares about his well being and stuff the way someone should care about their kid is something new to him, but he’s starved for it and he loves it and that’s way more prevalent and obvious at this point because he goes out of his way to tell the Mayor that and anyone within earshot because that kind of thing was so unheard of to him so there’s no way he’s going to shut up about it.
It probably helped him realize the difference in his upbringing compared to the norm after awhile.
My contribution to the YOI fandom. For the anons who wanted sick Yuri K.
Yuri feels at home on the ice—it’s was the one thing he is absolutely sure of. With the Grand Prix right around the corner, every second of practice is crucial.
One more time. He needs to run through the routine again. There are still a lot of things that need work. He hears Victor’s frustrated sigh from across the arena, hears the music as it is started from the top.
Yuri begins to skate. His moves are wrong, his jumps too sloppy. He falls behind the music and catching up is an impossibility. Victor is waving frantically at him from across the rink, but if Yuri doesn’t nail this now, he’ll never be ready for the Grand Prix.
He doesn’t feel good, and not just about his performance. His body is on fire, his limbs heavy and achy. His head is filled with such a dense fog that it’s a wonder he ever managed to make it out on the ice in the first place.
He does a triple axel, and this time his stomach leaps up with him. He hadn’t eaten that morning, his appetite completely gone in the wake of illness, but it takes everything he has to swallow back a rush of bitter tasting saliva. The nausea catches him off guard—he wipes out on the ice, skidding to a stop on his back.
He doesn’t get up. He can’t.
Victor is running to him, his worries inquisitions turning into frantic yelling.
Yuri can only watch as Victor runs to him, slipping in his shoes and coming to a stop at the edge of the rink. Yuri’s stomach still feels wrong, unpleasant.
He’s going to throw up. He can feel it steadily rising up his esophagus, his mouth flooding with acidic saliva.
Victor asks him if he’s okay and helps him sit up to lean against the wall. Yuri wants to answer him, but opening his mouth would be a terrible idea. He wonders vaguely if he has the flu—it would explain why he suddenly feels so miserable.
“Yuri, talk to me—”
A deep, rumbling belch pierces the air. It takes only another few seconds of nauseous swaying before Yuri turns to the side, away from Victor, a thin stream of watery vomit spurting from between his lips.
Victor begins to panic, and nothing Yuri can do can possibly fix that, especially when he continues to gag wetly over the ice, water and bile leaving his body in a flourish.
His stomach empties quickly, strings of spittle and sick clinging to the edge of his lips as he tries to level out his breathing. He feels marginally better, though his vomit-tinged shirt has seen better days.
Victor’s all over him now, bombarding him with questions, and Yuri can only nod; yes, he knew he was sick, he wants to go home, he promises to confide in Victor next time.
It’s moments like this—not necessarily when he’s sick, but when he has a caring boyfriend that is willing to do anything for him—that Yuri knows he wouldn’t change his life for anything.
So over a year and half ago I got a comment on one of my fanfics stating that story had “structural bumps“ and “consistency issues.” It broke me. To be honest I didn’t write for almost year because of that comment. I even avoided other fanfics because I was so down about it.
I am all for constructive criticism, but that fanfic took me three years to write and put out in the world. I read it over 100 times and rewrote parts over and over again, before I even posted it to share with people. I had a timeline and made sure everything that was in my brain went into that story. I put my heart and soul and into that fanfic. It is probably one of my most planned (and I mean planned, the folder for this fanfic is has dozens of Word documents with calendars and charts, it’s probably way too much) and favorite fanfics I’ve ever written.
After I got that comment though, I once again re-read my fanfic and went crazy analyzing everything about it. I made sure everything I mentioned was concluded. I don’t get many reviews, I never really have, so I suppose that’s why it bothered me so much. It still bothers me for some reason.
But I am writing again and I just recently started posting a new fanfic, so I guess that’s just how things go sometimes.