#janetav

[dave2olkat]

Here's Tavros, Feferi, Gamzee and Caliborn for my Rebellion AU fic, GOLD PILOT. Feferi's design was created by the amazing @rose-icosahedron, you can see their drawing here!

[masked-fox-creations]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: T

Ship: Jane Crocker/Gamzee Makara/Tavros Nitram

Summary: Gamzee spies his matesprits up in the nutritionblock.

Additional Tags: Polyamory, Fluff, Cooking, Rated T for some minor suggestive ogling

I just wanted to write some happy Gamzee with someone who loves him for @gamzeeweek, and when I couldn't decide between gamtav or gamjane I realized they'd all three be good together.

[mtjester]

Heeeyy some random question here but what are your favorite rarepair?

I have a lot of favorite rarepair! I guess my favorite favorite are pale tavrezi, pale johntav, johntavrezi, pale eritav, dirktav, davetav, janerezi, and equihal. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg really.

I like most anything involving Tavros (with maybe some pickiness on the quadrant here or there). I’ve juggled some janetav and soltav, got into some jaketav, some tavkat, some equitav, been intrigued by pale kantav...you get the picture. I think the only ships I’m not that into are lalondes/tav, but I think that’s just because I haven’t thought about it very hard yet. 

Outside of the Tavros ship fest, I like dirksol, erikar, a lot of various pale ships (HIC<>GHB and all sorts I guess), uhh...I don’t know if neprezi counts as a rarepair? Or jadedavepeta? I’ve juggled the idea of black nepvris a couple times, too, and I’m beginning to think about how interesting black dirkvris could be, or maybe ashen because that ship would destroy everything with the right conditions.

I guess the images in my shipping wall are broken, so...I’m having trouble remembering all the stuff I like off the top of my head. I mean, I like stuff when I see it. Rarepairs can pull me into a fic much faster than popular pairs. I just think it’s fun to see something new! I’m not into everything and I have my pet characters (I am much more likely to monoship John than I am Terezi or Tavros), but I’m open to suggestion.

[mtjester]

do you have any opinions about JaneTav?

I do!  I’ve written...two? short fics on JaneTav?  I think it’s super cute. I probably forgot to put it in my shipping wall haha

[mtjester]

For the fic prompt- Jane is a dancer who can't land a part because she is "too big," so she takes over the family bakery. Tavros is also a dancer who was forced into retirement because of an accident, but he remembers what it feels like to fly. They meet and find a way to live their passion, with or without an audience.

Okay, so I don’t really know anything about dancing at all except for like a movie or two about dancing, sooooooo forgive that ahaha

I am no longer taking fic prompts (sorry!)

You only care on principle.  Because, really, it’s just ridiculous that the industry is so blindly superficial!  Your form is about as good as it gets, definitely at the top of your class, and you have an eye for detail only a dedicated skeptic and detective fanatic such as yourself can attain.  And you know how to bring life to the show!  Even your instructor said as much.  Your dad says so as well, but he’s always full of supportive words.  You do appreciate that.

You don’t hate your body.  You never have, and you never will.  You’re a beautiful woman, with curves worthy of envy.  It always struck you as rather disingenuous, all these individual women with their own personal spirit and loveliness, forced to fit into a mold.  Expected to strive for the standard set by hundreds of ballerinas of the past.  Where is the originality?  Why can’t a ballerina shine for all her unique traits while she performs?  But you realize you’re only scratching the surface of the problem.  Being “too big” doesn’t just have to do with ballet.  It’s a social problem, and you know it.  And that’s what really boils your blood!

Lucky for you, you’ve always been gifted with multiple talents.  Your baking skills are off the charts, and your business acumen is formidable as well.  If you’re honest with yourself, you always knew this would be the outcome.  You weren’t resentful when you finally decided to quit dancing and take over the family bakery.  You love baking.  You have big plans to expand the business into a chain franchise, which you have no doubt you’ll also love doing.  But you love dancing.  You love love love dancing.  And for all the reasons you could have had to give it up, this one stings the most.

The old, tired thought drifts through the fog of your brain as you open up shop in the morning.  You’ve been up for a while, baking and setting up.  Everything in your bakery is fresh every morning, which is a point of pride for you.  Still, it’s not easy waking up so early!  You’re getting used to it, but you wish your mind wouldn’t wander as much in the cold, isolated hours before dawn.  You suppress a yawn and take your place behind the counter, shaking the thoughts away.  Time to be positive and perky!  Or something.

Your first customer comes in ten minutes later, and the bell above the door snaps you out of the doze you had fallen into.  You take a second to orient yourself.  You don’t really come to until you hear your name.

“Oh, hi, Jane!” 

You blink and finally recognize the man in front of you.  Tavros Nitram, a boy from your old dance studio.  Well, not a boy so much anymore.  He’s some years younger than you are, but you can see he’s grown since you last saw him.  He was a petite boy, but his shoulders have broadened a bit and he’s taller than you remember.  He grins and holds his hand up in greeting.  Although you never knew him well, you did always admire his smile. 

“Hello there!  Long time, no see,” you say, finally remembering your manners.

“I had no idea that this is where you’re working now,” he says.  “I haven’t heard much about you since you left.”

“Yes, well, it’s a family business,” you say, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious.  From ballet to bakery...not exactly flattering.  You change the subject.  “How are things at the studio?”

To your surprise, the question takes him aback.  “Oh, uh, I haven’t been,” he says, and it’s your turn to be taken aback.  

“You quit?” you ask.  If you remember right, he had a lot of promise.  And he was passionate, too.  Anyone who watched him dance could see that.  He loved it at least as much as you did, if not more.  Why would he quit?

He stumbles over his words.  “No--I mean, kind of, I guess, but, uh...”  Several shades of confusion and discomfort pass across his face before he finally understands.  “Oh, yeah, that’s right.  I guess you wouldn’t have heard, since you’ve been gone for a while, and weren’t as well acquainted with my peers, so...”  He stumbles to a stop, muddled and still plenty uncomfortable.  He clears his throat.  “I was an in an accident, that, uh...made it difficult for me to continue, so I’m working now, like you are, except at the animal shelter outside of town.”

“An accident?” you repeat with shock.  Sympathy floods through you.  “Oh, goodness, I’m sorry to hear that!  I hope it wasn’t too bad?  Could you...after some recovery...?”

He sighs and takes a step back, lifting the leg of his pants to reveal a prosthetic calf.  You gasp.  “It was pretty serious, the accident,” he says, stepping back up to the counter, “but, um, at least it’s not as bad as it could have been, all things considered.”

“Oh, Tavros, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you are.  He had such a promising future.  He could have been a professional danseur.  To think of that all falling apart so suddenly...at least you suspected your fate for a while before you had to face it, and you can still dance on your own.  You still have your body, even if others think it’s flawed.

“It’s okay, mostly,” he says with a shrug and a small smile.  “I came to accept it, as a thing that’s not going to change, after some time and, uh, what you might call soul-searching.  And I like my job, working with the animals.  I’m pretty good at it.”

You don’t want to pry.  Meddling is rude.  But your curiosity is killing you, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t feeling some sort of odd, disjointed kinship with him.  You know what it feels like to give it up.  “Can you still dance at all?” you venture.  “Is it just one leg, or both?”

“It’s just the one leg,” he says, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem to mind you asking.  “And, about the dancing, I haven’t really tried much to test my abilities, but I think that, for a lot of ballet, it would be impossible, especially in terms of leaping and lifting girls.  I don’t know if some modern dance or maybe jazz would still be accessible to me, or if modifications could make them more accessible if they aren’t.”

“You haven’t tried?” you ask.  “Tavros, don’t tell me you left the studio without giving it a good go at working it out?”

“Uh, well,” and he looks uncomfortable again.  Maybe a little sad.  “After the accident, I, um, lost a lot of confidence, I guess you could say, because the recovery time was long, and I lost a lot of muscle and balance, and it was difficult to become coordinated again, so...yeah, I sort of left, mostly without trying, because it seemed like it was never going to be the same way as it was again.  And anyway, I don’t think it’s possible for me to get a job as a dancer in any way, being disabled now, so I don’t think I could justify the time and expense of continuing to go.”

You gape at him.  Oh, how your heart hurts.  “But you loved it!  Who cares if you can’t find a job?”

He looks at you quizzically.  “But, uh, you loved it, too, and you still left for essentially the same reason.”

You shut your mouth.  The words seep into you like ice.  Your mind scrambles for an excuse to justify your situation, because you and he are so different in so many ways--he’s still lean and attractive, with his kind-hearted grin and honest eyes, while you...you don’t look like a dancer.  And you’re fine with your bakery.  You’re good at baking, good at business, good at a lot of things, so you’re fine with whatever.  But he loved it in a special way.  You saw how he loved it.  “Tavros,” you say, leaning over the counter earnestly, “you can’t let yourself give up that easily.  Don’t stop just because you’re afraid of what other people might think of you, or because the industry is such a drag on people who don’t fit the mold.”

He stares into your eyes, soaking in your fierce and maybe somewhat intimidating candor.  He bites his lip.  “Uh...were you...were you afraid of all that, too?”

“What?”

“It’s just...the way you’re talking right now, and also given that you also did what I did, but for different reasons, I was wondering if you understand the feeling of maybe not being the way you should be, or disappointing people, or feeling disappointed.  Like you can’t be a dancer because of how you are.”

You open your mouth and close it, trying to ignore the discomfort welling in your chest.  “Well,” you say, and you sigh.  “Maybe.  Maybe yes, I suppose I understand.  But it’s different for me.”

“How?”

You know he’s asking because he’s interested, or maybe because he wants to hear someone else say they know what he’s feeling.  Maybe he feels alone.  You don’t want him to feel that way, but...you also don’t want to talk about it.  “I’m just...you know how it is with bigger girls and dancing.  We all know what the industry thinks of us.  It’s different than an accident, in that we...maybe know better than to get our hopes up in the first place.”

His eyebrows pull up in a way that’s both surprised and sympathetic.  “Wow,” he says, “that sounds sad and not at all fair.”

You shrug.  “It’s not fair, but that’s life sometimes.”

He examines your face for a second.  “I’m inclined to believe that maybe, you also need to hear the things you’re saying, about not giving up or allowing sad thoughts to make you feel bad, but for yourself,” he says.  You balk, standing straight.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, and you cross your arms.  But, to your dismay, his eyes grow clearer, as though he’s putting pieces together and seeing you in an entirely new way.

“If it makes you feel better, I always loved to watch you dance,” he says, and now he’s the one leaning over the counter.  “I always thought you were one of our best dancers.”

“Well, I was,” you say without any cockiness.  “But there are a lot of things that matter just as much as skill.  To the industry.”

“Oh, but skill is by far the most important, at least in my opinion,” he says.  “And grace, and passion, and soul, which I think is why you were always so good.”

Your cheeks grow warm.  “Speak for yourself!” you say.  “You had all of those traits just as much as I did.  You could probably use them to find a new style that fits for you, and you could shine just the same as you used to!”

“And, I believe that in your own case, this advice is also relevant, and you should follow it as well.”

“I can’t waste my time anymore.  I have a business to run.”  You sweep your arm open to gesture at the bakery, which you do love.  You’re not lying.  You do have a business to run.

“And I, too, have a job now, that requires my attention, in order to earn an income,” he says.  “But, um...I’m starting to think that, maybe these things we have, which function as our main responsibilities, may not need to be the only things in our lives, or to function as our only form of self-fulfillment.”

His eyes are bright, the way they would be after he just finished a routine.  You drop your arms despite yourself.  “Go on,” you say.

“Uh, well, that’s all I had to say on the matter, just then, but I do think that running a bakery doesn’t mean you can never dance.”  He draws back a little, sheepishly, but his eyes still glitter.  Like he’s beginning to understand something life-changing.  And so are you.

“Tavros, if I can still dance even though I’m a big girl running a demanding business, you can still dance even though you have a prosthetic leg and a job at an animal shelter.  And I don’t want to hear any excuses about self-confidence or lack of coordination!  To hell with all that!  In fact...”  And you pause.  Are you sure you want to say what you think you want to say?  As if in response, your heart flutters.  You haven’t felt this warm and enlivened in a long while.  That’s enough for you.  “In fact, I’d like to be your dance partner.  We can find something that works for you, and doggone it, we can make it beautiful to boot!”

His face goes blank for a split second, and he lights up, almost glowing with excitement.  “Yes, okay,” he agrees immediately.  “Yeah, I’d love to be your dance partner, as long as you’re comfortable taking things slowly with me, to adjust to my new limitations.”

“We’ll make your limitations into strengths,” you declare.  “From this point forward, we’re going to focus on the positives, no ifs or buts!”

“Yes, okay!” he repeats, and you feel radiant.  Your whole bakery feels radiant.  Maybe because the sun is getting higher.

“Oh, shoot!  By the by, what did you want to order?” you ask, and he laughs.

[mtjester]

“i’m a prince/ss from a small country nobody’s heard of and i’m in college pretending not to be royal and you’re another student who’s always calling me out on my bs” janetav please!

I’ve been sitting on this one since you sent it, anon, because it could GO SO MANY WAYS DAMN because Jane is an heiress of a corporate empire but she’s also got that hardboiled skeptic detective schtick so??? but I think I’ve got it now.  Sorry about the wait;;;

I’m taking fic prompts until Friday!

Nondescript outfit: check.  Nondescript backpack: check.  A few dollars for lunch: check!  Today, you’re going to fit in like a pro.  No one is going to suspect a thing about your illustrious heritage, no siree.  You’re like any other college student, and for once, you actually feel the part!  It’s been a rough month and a half since the semester started, but you’re really starting to get a handle on this “average Joe” thing.  Or should you say...average Jane?  Hoo hoo!

The only problem is your first class.  Or, more specifically, someone in your first class.  By all accounts and appearances, Tavros is a rather dimwitted person.  Pleasant, certainly, and a charming lad to be around, but, well...slow on the uptake.  You would think he’d be the easiest to fool into believing your elaborate charade!  But he always seems to notice something.  And so innocently, too, like he doesn’t even mean to.  It drives you up the wall!  On the first day of class, you walked in and sat down next to him, as nervous you could be, and what did he say?  “Oh, wow, your hair is so fancy!  You look like Snow White.  I really like it.”  And you sat there cursing yourself for the rest of the hour, because it had plumb slipped your mind that you would have to change your hairstyle when you got here.  Apparently the average college student doesn’t use curlers!  And just the other day, he was so kind as to accompany you to lunch, and you could feel him watching you eat.  You knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.  “Uh, not to sound weird, or maybe creepy, but the way you eat is really captivating, like a movie star, or maybe some kind of royalty.”  Confound it, but nobody else had said anything before!  How does he notice?  Do you act differently around him?  Or does he watch you more closely than anyone else does?

Today, you’re going to be perfectly normal.  Years of etiquette training, right out the window, and all shadows of regal demeanor to follow!  You slump into the room with the worst posture you can manage and drop into the chair next to Tavros, running your fingers through your loose curls.  You’re wearing sweatpants, for heaven’s sake.  Although, to be fair, you do like sweatpants and have fully embraced that part of your new lifestyle.  Still, no one could mistake you for a princess.  No one.

“Uh, Jane?” Tavros says, and you turn to him.  He’s wearing a quizzical expression that’s usually reserved for confusing course material.

“Yes?”

“Are you...sick, or not feeling well to any degree?  Because you look, uh...disheveled, or at least a little under the weather.”

Drat.  Did you overdo it?  “Why do you say that?” you ask, trying to appear as nonchalant as you can.

“Well, uh...usually, when you sit, especially in class, you have really nice and elegant posture, that makes you seem attentive and generally confident, in an enviably effortless manner.”

Damn!  “Do I?” you ask.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” he says with a nod.  “At least, I think so.”

“And...is it really very noticeable?”  If Tavros has noticed, surely everyone else has.  All this time, you thought you were being sneaky, and you’re starting to think you were obvious all along! 

“Uh, well,” Tavros says, and you notice a slight if puzzling change in his body language, “maybe to some people, more than to others, it might be noticeable.”

That proves it.  He’s onto you.  Maybe he actually knows something about your country?  As shocking as that would be, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.  Perhaps he recognized your hairstyle that first day as a popular hairstyle in your own country, or perhaps it was something more subtle.  Do you have an accent?  Maybe your perfume?  Did he maybe see a picture of you in some obscure magazine?  Maybe he studies culture and politics as a hobby.  He wouldn’t necessarily need to be observant in that case, just well informed.  And he does like to read.  He always has some fantasy novel or another in his backpack.  You sigh.

“You caught me,” you say, adjusting yourself to sit more naturally.  “Really, I didn’t expect to be found out this quickly!”

“Uh...found out?” he asks.

“I’ll come clean, but not here.  Perhaps we could grab some coffee after class somewhere quiet and have a chat about it?”

His eyebrows rise, but you can see a glint of excitement in his eyes.  He’s probably been waiting for the chance to confront you, the cheeky bastard!  “Yes, okay,” he says.  “I would like that very much.”

You nod.  Of course he would.  Who wouldn’t want to get in with royalty?  But then again, Tavros seems like the kind of guy who would keep your secret without taking advantage of you.  In fact, the more you think about it, the more you feel relieved.  This could be the start of a much needed alliance for you, and you suspect Tavros will be glad to share your secret with all the support and encouragement he’s been so happy to give up until now.  You find yourself looking forward to the end of class.  Tavros, if the way he sneaks glances at you says anything, feels the same way.

[spockandawe]

[catboyselsel]

I’m seeing people drawing cute stuff with Jane and Tavros on my dash

MY SMALL JANETAV HEART IS SINGING

I shipped it! I shipped it before all y’all shipped it!

join me in my canoe; the SS JaneTav