#I mean you can also ask leading questions that make rude assumptions

[halfmoth-halfman]

Do you ever feel bad when your friends stop reblogging your fics? I know people can move to new fandoms or find new interests, but it would make me feel so discouraged if I had friends that were really supportive and then stopped when they moved on to something else….

i’m going to answer this under the assumption that this is a genuine question and not a rude implication—

it doesn’t bother me at all. i don’t write with the expectation that everyone will read or interact (in any way not just reblogs) with my fics. i feel like that could end up being a slippery slope leading into discouragement from writing, putting too much of my self-worth into notes, resentment and pressure towards friends and readers, forcing myself to write not for what i want but for what i think people want, and burnout, some of which i’ve experienced before.

i also feel like that’s a very unfair expectation to put on others. i don’t want my friends, or anyone, supporting or interacting with my fics because they feel like they have to but because they genuinely want to.

and it would also be incredibly dismissive of the other ways that they support me. my friends are always the first to help me with my writing, hype me up when i’m feeling anxious, listen to my ideas even for fandoms they aren’t involved in anymore, just like i would do for them, and i’m not going to devalue that support because they don’t interact with all of my fics.

some genuine advice if you’re feeling discouraged:

1. talk to your friends about it, there’s nothing wrong with asking for some reassurance or extra hype for your fics!!

2. find other people who create for the fandom(s) you’re in, i know so many writers/artists who would love to talk about headcanons, fics, characters, etc and find new people to talk to!!

3. learn how to write for yourself. i don’t mean this in a “you shouldn’t want validation” way because there’s nothing wrong with wanting that, but just as a way to say, find a way to be sure you’re creating things that you want to create and that make you happy and not only for the sake of getting interaction.

[apprenticebard]

“Sealioning” is probably one of my least-favorite New Internet Terms, tbh. I guess it was originally meant to meant to indicate the behavior of a person who insists on trying to have debates with disinterested parties and criticizing them for not wanting to engage, which is a thing that people do sometimes and is super rude, but I mostly see it used to mean “this person is asking questions that I think are easy to find the answers to, so clearly they’re only asking for the purpose of wasting my time or pissing me off, and I am therefore justified in harshly criticizing them for either feigning ignorance or being totally apathetic and insensitive.” Which is a horrible position to default to when people ask you obvious questions!

“I’m just venting in private, it wasn’t an invitation to debate”--fine, I understand this, everybody vents at some point and it can be hard to judge how public a particular venue should be considered, especially on social media; we can quibble about whether venting within metaphorical earshot of people who might reasonably be hurt by it is a good idea or not, or whether venting about certain people or groups of people might cause harm even if the subjects never become aware of it, but it's obviously a complicated topic, and it doesn’t mean you should be piled on by people who want to debate when you’re not ready to do so.

“It’s not my job to educate you”--yes, fine, this makes sense if you are not an activist, if you don’t wish to engage in forms of activism that involve spreading information, or even if you’re an educator who isn’t on educating duty at this particular moment. No one is entitled to your time and effort in this specific matter, and you do not bear a responsibility to defend all of your views to all of the people on a consistent basis, even though eventually communication must occur if people are to learn and grow.

“This thing is obvious to me, and has been explained somewhere in the world at least once before, so if you claim it isn’t clear to you or that you want to learn more about why I believe it, you must be baiting me and acting in bad faith, and shall be mocked for doing so”--no, stop, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Consistently reliable research is beyond a lot of people’s abilities, especially if they’ve never been to college or, through no fault of their own, live in an ideological bubble that is isolated from particular truths. It can be really hard to tell the legitimate authorities apart from weirdos with an axe to grind if you have no experience in a field. Even if it’s within their abilities, it may be really time-consuming for them, they may have no idea where to start, they may have a life outside being Right about everything and not know whether the issue is important (”the world’s getting warmer? so what?”), or they may be from a different background that makes your claim look as outlandish as a flat-earth conspiracy theory, something they shouldn’t waste their time on unless someone can give them a reason why they should. And that’s just for things that actually are obvious; topics that are more complex, where both sides make good points, are even harder to get to the bottom of.

It’s not that people never argue in bad faith; that happens all the time.  It’s that accusing people of intentionally trying to piss you off or waste your time, just because they ask questions about things that seem obvious to you, will give you a lot of false positives, will discourage people from asking questions in the future, will turn people away from your position who might otherwise have been persuaded, and is rude as heck. I’ve seen people be accused of “sealioning” for asking one question about the evidence for the gender wage gap, which IMO is not the sort of simple and obvious thing from which you can tell that your conversation partner is necessarily being unreasonable or acting in bad faith.

I don’t think anyone should be required to defend their beliefs on a constant basis. It’s OK to disengage even if your opponent isn’t hostile and does want to learn, and people who don’t respect that are being rude and, in some cases,  harmful. But we all know how easy it is to spread misinformation, so I also think that people shouldn’t be expected to amend their beliefs without getting the chance to dig through and look at all the evidence, and I realize that that can be a time-consuming process. The least we can do is remember not to assume that the apparent desire for more information is evidence of malice.

Also, the lady in the original comic was being kind of rude, and the sea lion was way more calm and polite in the face of her “I just don’t like sea lions” opinion than I would have been in the face of some guy’s “I just don’t like women” opinion. I dunno what the relative systemic power of sea lions is in this ‘verse, but criticizing the sea lion for wanting to start a dialogue with someone who disdains him for something he has no control over seems rather callous, and turning the character into a verb that gets used to mean “this person is being willfully ignorant just to piss me off and then claim they won the argument” strikes me as a slightly worrying failure of cognitive empathy. Yes, he refused to let the matter drop and insisted on following the lady into her house in order to have a debate with her, which is totally inappropriate, but I hardly think his crime was the fact that he dared to ask why someone hated him.

(Yes, I know the author has issued a clarification that sea lions are meant to stand in for people who exhibit the particular behavior of wanting to debate casual statements and refusing to let them lie, not any immutable characteristic of the sea lion, but since “I just don’t like X people” is very often not an innocuous statement, and being a sea lion is immutable in the real world, I don't think the metaphor works very well. It’s not a horrifically insensitive comic, or anything, but it seems like a bad thing to reference when trying to explain why you object to somebody asking questions about your beliefs and worldview. Especially if they’ve only asked a single question and have not done anything analogous to following you into your house.)

If this seems like a petty thing to worry about, I’ll add that I grew up in a church/school environment where questioning Facts like The Earth Is 6000 Years Old or America Is The Greatest Country In All Ways was seen as evidence of either a lack of faith or intentional malice. I’m in a different place now because I had parents who encouraged me to ask whatever questions I wanted, no matter how obvious, tedious, or disturbing, and because I eventually ran into Catholics, and Catholics consistently answered my questions instead of just warning me about hell over and over. They debated, they disagreed, they educated. They discussed things with non-Catholics without acting like they might be infected with something, or like they were afraid that a little investigation might cause their worldview to come crashing down. They sought the truth, and delighted in all those who came to them for help in seeking it.

So yeah, mocking people for not knowing stuff you know is rude, and I think we should try not to be rude. But refusing to tolerate questions and debate in general is dangerous, both to your movement and to the individual people in it. And yeah, as I said, you don’t have a responsibility to debate with people or educate them at any given moment. Maybe not ever, if debating is just not your thing and you think there are better ways for you to use your time. I’m not that good at debate either, honestly! Constructive and honest debate is hard! There’s no shame in saying that you’re not able or willing to answer someone’s questions, unless you have some particular obligation to that person. But mocking, belittling, or punishing people for having questions, for seeking debate, for trying to do the things one does when one wants to understand and lacks the necessary equipment to do so--that is poison to any community, and is most toxic of all to a community that is trying to change the hearts and minds of the people around them.

TLDR: Refusing to respect people’s boundaries and leave them alone when asked is bad. Asking people questions is not in itself bad, even though people don’t generally have an obligation to answer. These behaviors should not be conflated.

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || KIND HEARTED

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar error, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1339

| published : 14 november

| request : could i request an imagine w/ sukuna where itadori’s best friend is just so welcoming of sukuna and tries to include him when they do things? like they’re just hanging out and she goes “sukuna would you like to try this” and she holds up a piece of food to his cheek so sukuna can try it and it just warms the curse’s cold dead heart bc she’s genuinely trying <3

| barista’s notes : i kinda went a little off track with this imagine ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request) and that you have an amazing day! please come back again soon ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ

“You know, I think curses spirits have emotions”

“Mother, what in the world are you talking about? They don’t have feelings, they kill without remorse and try to gain power from their greed”

“Y/N dear, how are curses formed?”

“Negative emotions that results in cursed energy leaking from the bodies of humans”

“See ‘emotions’ is in the sentence dear”

“‘Humans’ mother, you forgot the word ‘humans’ was also in the sentence”

Back then you had no idea what your mother was suggesting or saying at that time. Curses having emotions? What was that all about? You knew from previous missions that some curses were intelligent from being able to take hostages to some being able to talk but other than that you still couldn’t comprehend what she was trying to communicate to you.

“You know the Legend of Sukuna?”

Looking up from your book, you stared at your mother - who was sitting on the opposite end of the room with a cup of tea in her hands - with a somewhat nonchalant but surprised expression on your face wondering why she brought up such a topic that was feared by most jujutsu sorcerers

“You used to tell me about it when I was younger, why are you bringing it up now?” you asked curiously, as you closed your book before gently placing it on your lap.

“We all know that the curse was a human before his fingers became cursed objects, don’t we? How do you think he felt when he was killed?”

You were about to answer her before you shut your mouth completely, not sure on how to even answer that question. How could you? No one knows the whole story to even come to a conclusion for that question, you have to interrupt the story in your own way to make one yourself? Wouldn’t he have been enraged when he was killed, annoyed at the fact that he lost in a way? Or was he unsettled? 

“Personally from my perspective, I think he would have been vexed at the fact that he somewhat lost, you mother?”

“I think the same as you, but I have a small feeling that he was upset for some reason, I’m not sure why though”

                                              ꕥ

You still have that assumption till this day. However, you were a little more open about your mother’s thoughts and took them into account sometimes when you were debating on the subject on your own. However, there was a slight shift in your opinion once Itadori Yuji unexpectedly came into your life.

The first time you meant the boy was when Gojo came back with him carrying him and Fushiguro back to Jujutsu high, confusing you completely on what was going on. For someone who was sent to just retrieve a cursed object, Fushiguro looked completely beat up and that worried you completely on what he had encountered during his time away. However, Gojo just couldn’t read the room.

“Yo Y/N, what is my favourite student doing at a time like this? It’s quite late you know,” he greeted you with a smile, before plopping Fushiguro on the ground.

“Sensei, now’s not the time to play with me, what the hell is going on?” you muttered annoyingly before using reserve curse energy to heal some of Fushiguro’s wounds.

After some time of your playful teacher explaining what was going on, you came to the conclusion that the boy ate the cursed object that Fushiguro was supposed to collect causing him to become Sukuna’s vessel as a consequence.

“So what you’re saying is that Fushiguro failed to get the object in the end,” you commented as you pointed at your close friend, leading to Gojo giving you an ‘okay’ sign telling you that you were technically correct.

“Was that all you got from the whole explanation Y/N?” Fushiguro irritatedly asked, causing you to lightly giggle before apologising to him.

                                              ꕥ

However, after that night, you made the decision to become friends with the teenager as you didn’t want him to feel completely isolated on his situation right now - he did leave everything behind to come to Tokyo - and with everything that was going to happen to him, you wanted him to live a happy life with people surrounding him before his execution after he ate all 20 fingers. What you didn't realise was this friendship would lead to you guys to have a sister and brother type of bond.

You and Itadori did everything together from going on missions together with Nobara and Fushiguro to randomly going out to do some shopping or showing him around Tokyo. As time went on, you decided to fully take in your mother’s opinion. You slowly included Sukuna in some of the activities that both of you would be participating in - usually this would involve you asking for his opinion on something, even if he sometimes gave a rude response.

“Do you think Sukuna is a pork or beef type of guy?” you randomly asked, as you lifted up your chopsticks that held a piece of cooked beef to Itadori’s cheek. “Sukuna, would you like to try this?” you kindly asked, leading to the curse to take a bite of the meat before his mouth disappeared like it didn’t appear in the first place.

“I never really asked, but why are you so kind to Sukuna? I mean he is a curse, after all, ain't sorcerers like you supposed to like, hate them?” Itadori asked in a confused tone, causing you to look up away from the meat that you were cooking to the boy that had asked you that question. 

To be honest, you weren’t so sure how to answer his question, just like the same situation that you were years ago when your mother asked you that question. How could you answer this time around? How could you answer this question now?

“Personally from my perspective, I guess I took in some consideration towards anyone’s emotions,” you casually answered, before going back to the meat that was cooking on the grill, leaving Itadori confused yet somewhat understanding what you were trying to say.

                                             ꕥ

Sukuna on the other hand was confused about what you were trying to interrupt to his annoying vessel as he sat quietly in his Innate Domain. Ever since the beginning of your friendship with Itadori, you had been nothing but kind-hearted toward him making him wonder what your intentions were from the start. However, over time he began to discover that’s what you were naturally. You were naturally just a kind-hearted person that was trying to become acquainted with him. You were generally trying.

It was hard to recall the last time he had someone to confide in - if there was anyone he even confided in at all - you were someone that took his emotions into consideration, you always question his reason for power, greed and destruction, instead of assuming that he was born with his sadistic nature. He still remembers that time you were able to somehow get close to him during his fight with Fushiguro and heal Itadori’s heart with no issues at all - making him intrigued on how powerful your reserve energy was. However, he remembers what you said to him as your hand was placed on top of the wound on his chest.

“Listen, I have no idea what caused you to become the man that you are today, I have no idea what pain you went through before your death 1000 years ago, I have no idea what you are feeling right now and I’ll try my best to understand” you quickly stated just as your curse began to revive his heart, “but right now, there is no way in hell am I going to let you kill Itadori, you got that Sukuna!”

That. That caused his cold empty heart to suddenly become warm.

Your kind-heartedness was the reason he began to reach out to you.

He wanted to cherish that trait of yours.

You were kind-hearted.

[kcatta-wodahs]

MC Who Does Not Fear Death x OM! Demon Brothers

Or maiming, or apparently any other consequences. You’ve walked into this situation with absolutely no filter and no fear. Time to tear down every structure of Devildom society.

Lucifer

You look at him with a withering stare when he tries to intimidate you into behaving.

“I was summoned out of my trashy apartment to this place, where literally anyone could snap me like a twig on accident. I’m just working on the assumption that I’m already dead.”

He sternly looks at you. “You’re under my protection during your time here. No harm will come to you.”

You snort derisively, which visibly irritates him. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t come back to haunt you if it happens.”

As you continue through your life in Devildom he keeps calling you out for meddling and all that, like usual, and he HATES that you literally *do not care* when he threatens you.

Like HE knows that he wouldn’t hurt Diavolo’s transfer student but YOU are supposed to be AFRAID of him dammit.

His frustration at this ends up turning into a form of respect. You’re about the only person who will stand up to him, and tbh like you’re so fucking fragile but you’ll yell at him all day? That takes guts. Annoying guts. But you’ve got guts.

But also STOP IT. He has enough stress in his life and now he’s constantly terrified that you’ve decided it’s a great idea to adopt a baby balrog

Which you did once. He’s just afraid that “Flamin Hot Cheeto” is going to come back since you somehow managed to imprint on it.

despite the fact that the BABY could easily tear your arms off on accident

Not to mention he gets the flack for EVERY SINGLE ONE of these following stories. You stress him out so much. Please. Please, stop. 

He’s almost to the point of begging. The Avatar of Pride is three steps away from either locking you away for the rest of the year or begging on his knees for you to calm down. 

 But you know you’d find a way out if he locked you up so no worries. It’ll be a good challenge.

Mammon

“Well you WON’T be dead because it’s my job to protect you! Are you doubting the Great Mammon?!”

Stupid human. Yeah, you’re fragile and weak, but that’s why HE’S your bodyguard now, and there’s no way in hell (lol) that he would let you die on his watch.

Lucifer would kill him.

You welcome the challenge, and he thinks it’s funny at first but quickly becomes a flustered mother hen.

“NO, we are NOT going out to Madam Scream’s at 3am! Do ya know what kinda CREEPS are out there at 3am?!”

And you sneak out the fucking window.

He has had more heart attacks in the past week than he has had in the last 100 years of life.

He starts agreeing to your ridiculous adventures JUST because then he can actually keep an eye on you. 

He adores the chaos of the laugh that bursts from you every time you narrowly escape death. 

He HATES how often you have to NARROWLY ESCAPE DEATH. So he will never tell you.

He almost doesn’t have time for his own shenanigans anymore, because all his time is taken up by trying to make sure you stay alive.

And you’ve figured out that if you turn *any* of your ideas into a money-making one, he will join you whole-heartedly.

So you bribe him because what’s money to you anymore anyway?

Leviathan

I mean he doesn’t leave his room much, so tbh he probably just gets texts from you that make him want to scream.

‘hey uh levi say if someone were to hypothetically be stuck in a succubus’ devil basement to become an unwilling sacrifice to asmo what would that person, hypothetically, do?’

‘probably die’ is usually all he sends back

You always come back, because he always sends a text to the other brothers. In that case Asmo came to rescue you himself and scold the succubus.

You become the friend that he makes funny throwing-shade reddit posts about. (Devvit? Devil reddit? Eh??)

‘Levi so this has nothing to do with anything but is there a cure for a dangerously potent ‘always win at rock-paper-scissors' curse? Asking for a friend’

‘Friend is being held hostage tho so maybe be quick about a response’

He didn’t even know that kind of curse existed. None of them did. What the fuck did you do.

How did you get taken captive by playing rock paper scissors?

He doesn’t know. Nobody does. He expects the play-by-play so he can recommend it as a new anime to his favorite producers. 

Somehow your chaotic plans end up with stories almost as great as TSL. 

Beelzebub

He physically carries you around.

He’s like “fuck this you can’t get into trouble if I’m holding you.”

If Beel’s on MC watching duty, he’s almost the only one who is successful, just because you physically cannot get away. 

But at the same time, he is very easily bribed. 

So yes, he’ll go to Madam Scream’s with you at 3am. Sounds like fun.

But he is very protective after losing someone he cares about (who you remind him of so much….) so he keeps you close when you’re out and about too.

If you start getting into a fight with some other demon he literally just takes the fight for you and wins with no trouble at all.

You like having Beel with you.

Especially finding street festivals! You’re in a whole new world and there’s a MILLION things to try. Beel is more than happy to try them with you.

But that leads to arguments about whether deadly creatures to humans are still deadly when dead. 

“No, you can’t eat that it’s on fire. I know even small fires hurt humans. I’ll eat it for you.”

“That hot sauce makes every demon I know cry. You really shouldn’t buy a bottle. Please. No, don’t try it. No, that’s too much for one-- oh. Oh no.”

He forgives you as long as you don’t actually get hurt and you give him your leftovers.

Asmodeus

“If I get wrinkles because of you I promise you will never hear the end of it. I will curse you forever.”

He swears on every single one of his lovers that you have started giving him grey hairs.

GREY HAIRS, MC.

Why can’t you just settle down and let them all take care of you? You don’t have to prove anything to the other demons!

But you will. You’re living in Devildom now, and by everything unholy, you are going to live that life to its fullest extent.

He was thrilled at first when you were all for joining him at his nightclubs and parties. Now he hides every party’s date from you.

That time you almost threw yourself off a balcony to try and emulate a very drunk demon’s newest dance move.

“I need to stay TRENDY, Asmo!! I’ll be fine!!”

Ever since learning Demonus doesn’t affect humans you have challenged every single stuck-up tough boy to a drinking contest.

And every single time you win, Asmo has had to *narrowly* save you from being killed by said demon.

And you just say “he deserved it” every time.

And like, yeah okay, he probably did but YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE.

Somehow, you manage to out-party Asmo.

dON’T TELL THE OTHERS but he lives for the times when you practically fall asleep on his shoulder while coming home from a rager. You may not get drunk, but when you’re sleepy, you’re so affectionate and something in his heart melts.

Satan

At first, Satan was all for the rebellious “life life with no restraints” thought process you explained to him.

I mean, he didn’t like the assumption that he and his brothers couldn’t control themselves to not accidentally kill you, but also… fair.

But he didn’t realize that this mindset followed through for EVERY demon in ANY place.

Including RAD, where old and wizened demons were *really* not used to being contradicted

Which led to you “accidentally insulting” your 5000 year old Human Studies professor by giving them a pop quiz on current memes (which they failed).

And left Satan as the one who had to make sure that said professor didn’t kill you. 

And the thing is, this keeps happening.

You’ve written all over the school’s library books, pointing out every error.

You *continue* to argue with the demons who threaten to kill you when you say silly things like “No, Solomon did not learn his sorcery at Hogwarts because Hogwarts isn’t REAL.”

(Solomon, meanwhile, refutes you vehemently and seems to grow three inches taller every time you glare at him.)

Satan assures you that he values knowledge and truth and all that, but could you maybe find a less dangerous way to push it?

No can do, Satan, because you already had plans with Mammon to use a curse that writes the history of the actual Sorceric Academy that Solomon attended like 400 years all over the desks in Human Studies. It’s activated by anyone saying “Hogwarts”. 

No, no, Satan, it’s brilliant, because you can’t do magic. It can’t be you who did it.

Satan, no don’t tell Lucifer.

I thought you hated him. Satan, wait. 

You are the only person in the history of ever who convinces him to come to Lucifer for intervention. You wear that badge with pride and also deep, deep, bitter sadness. 

Belphegor

Like, through the plot your willingness to be a thorn in anyone’s side just to get more information really works for Belphie.

He’s like all I gotta do is ask? Sweet. Yeah. Go, human.

But then when he’s all big and threatening and “im gonna kill you” and you just kind of look at him and nod like “yeah, this checks out.” 

Frankly, that’s rude, MC. 

And then he keeps threatening to kill you and it doesn’t even PHASE you like. You just keep listening to him rant and going “OH i think i get it now”

He liked that you were always looking for more information when he was the one pushing you around, but now?

No. Human, he is going to KILL you here, STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

And then you do the time-travel bit, and see that he *literally has killed you in one timeline* and you just like

Shrug it off and keep talking about Lilith???????

Tbh what probably stopped him from doing it again is just that you’re fucking insane, MC 

“MC, you literally just saw yourself dead in Mammon’s arms”

You wave your hand vaguely in his direction and say, “Yeah okay, but can we talk about the lack of communication in this household because it is tearing this family apart.”

What the fuck MC

When he’s back to normal, tbh he loves that side of you. He loves getting into shit when he’s not sleeping. He will 100% encourage you and be there to make sure that you *don’t* actually die again.

He’s the only one who doesn’t actually try to stop you. Who knew he was so into chaos.

But if you try to drag him to a plan when he should be sleeping he will be like Beel and literally just hold you down while he naps dammit. You brought this on yourself. He needs sleep.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 16 - ao3 -

Of course, Wen Ruohan wasn’t the sort of person to leave things to chance: the next time he sent an invitation for Lan Qiren to visit the Nightless City, he sent it straight to Lan Qiren’s father, instead.

“Naturally Qiren will go,” Lan Qiren’s brother said.

Lan Qiren mentally cursed Wen Ruohan’s name, even as he raised his hands and saluted to signify his agreement.

“Very well,” their father agreed, disinterested and toneless. His gaze was more and more distant these days; Lan Qiren suspected that the day his brother became sect leader was growing ever closer.

“I’ll select an appropriate escort, and a gift –”

“No,” Lan Qiren blurted out involuntarily, horrified at the idea of what another gift might trigger in Wen Ruohan’s purportedly competitive soul. “I – that is – I’m not going on behalf of the Lan sect, am I? I’m going in my personal status as his sworn brother. Taking too many people with me or bringing gifts might give the impression that I’m holding myself distant.”

Or something like that.

His brother looked at him for a long moment. “Very well,” he finally said. “Some servants as attendants, rather than a delegation of disciples, and no gift. You’re right; we don’t want to appear sycophantic.”

That hadn’t been what Lan Qiren had said or meant, but he’d take it.

His travel to the Nightless City was uneventful after that, as was his arrival: he made it to the main gate with relatively little fanfare and asked one of the guardsmen which way he should go, having never arrived on his own before. Instructions obtained, he made his way towards one of the side entrances to the Sun Palace. The main entrance was crammed full with petitioners, as always – Wen Ruohan rarely entertained them himself, but he had built up a decent bureaucracy to manage the work of it, which Lan Qiren supposed was necessary given the much higher number of people that were sworn to the Wen sect in comparison with the other sects.

It didn’t occur to him to question the instructions he’d been given until he was shown into one of the sitting rooms – not the one he’d been in before, and the hallways leading up to it were all unfamiliar – and he saw a woman sitting there, waiting for him, instead of Wen Ruohan.

The woman’s face was unfamiliar to him, but her luxurious robes, bone white and heartsblood red, patterned in the particular stylization of the red sun reserved for the highest rank within the Wen sect, as well as a glittering golden tiara dripping with rubies, announced her identity.

As did the pronounced curve of her pregnant belly.

Lan Qiren raised his hands and bowed. “Greetings to Madame Wen.”

He felt strangely uncomfortable, although he could not identify why. He had plenty of experience with pregnant women, so he didn’t think it was that, but there was something distinctly off-putting and surprising about this pregnancy, which Wen Ruohan must have known of but not mentioned during his visit to the Cloud Recesses.

Madame Wen watched indifferently as Lan Qiren saluted her, not stopping him even as he held the bow, and she was a few beats late in waving for him to stand up – her status as the mistress of a Great Sect was well above his as a second son, but it was still a little rude.

“So you’re Lan-er-gongzi,” she said, her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. “My husband’s sworn brother, of which he is so fond.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth to deny it, but all the usual excuses he’s concocted for himself choked in his throat and dried up on his tongue: every time he’d told himself that Wen Ruohan only meant to irritate Lao Nie or his brother, that it was a political move or a quickly-regretted moment of impulse, that their supposed ‘brotherhood’ was little more than a word –

It was difficult to weigh that against an afternoon wandering through a market, and a room done up in all the ways Lan Qiren liked best.

Be generous. Be grateful. Be loyal.

However it had started, Wen Ruohan had lived up to the brotherhood to which they had sworn.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Lan Qiren had not.

“Sect Leader Wen is forgiving of my faults,” Lan Qiren said, deciding that he would need to do better in the future. No matter the rumors about him, Wen Ruohan had never wronged him personally, and he ought to behave accordingly. “Allow me to express my best wishes for your child.”

It was an ugly and un-poetically blunt sort of well-wishing, and he regretted it the instant he said it; if he hadn’t been so distracted by unwelcome self-revelations, he would have thought of something better.

“A son, they say,” Madame Wen said, watching him as if to see his reaction. Whatever it was she was looking for, she didn’t seem to be getting it; her eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. “Well, you've got a pretty face, I’ll give you that much.”

Lan Qiren was unperturbed by the comment – his ancestors had always had a taste for beauty – and he didn’t quite understand why she made it sound like an insult. Still, he’d learned from prior mistakes that when someone was complimenting you in a mean tone of voice, it was impolite to respond by saying “you, too”, so instead he just waited patiently for her to get around to making whatever point she had brought him here to make.

“They say that you’re a mediocre swordsman,” she said, and Lan Qiren frowned – he wasn’t talented, no, but mediocre seemed a little harsh. Average would be a better way to describe it. “A good musician, but also stern and aloof. I wonder, what aspects you have to recommend yourself to someone like my husband?”

“Your husband was the one who proposed brotherhood,” Lan Qiren said. He was pretty sure that was the case, though of course he couldn’t be entirely sure; still, he was going to stand on that ground until he heard otherwise. Feeling uncomfortable, he added, “I didn’t think I needed to recommend myself. Has he said something to you about me?”

Madame Wen’s lip curled up in a faint sneer. “He’s barely mentioned you at all.”

That was about as Lan Qiren would have expected, and he nodded in satisfaction.

“At least the rumors regarding your disposition were correct,” she remarked, her expression of dissatisfaction unchanging. “You don’t speak much, do you?”

Do not use frivolous words beat at the inside of Lan Qiren’s mouth, but he’d learned about not sharing the rules every time he thought of them, too, even if it had taken many years to do so. He inclined his head in confirmation instead.

“So cold and distant, like the frost on a distant evening – with a temperament like that, you seem untouchable. One could scarcely bear to lay hands upon you...I do wonder how well someone like you can really play.”

Was he supposed to start boasting about his skills in music? It was well known that personality could affect musical talent, and he was better at the more intellectual and reserved songs, although to his own disquiet he found that he could quite adequately pull of some of the more disturbed songs, the passionate and unrestrained pieces, as well; nevertheless, the type of music did not correlate with quality.

Confused by the line of questioning, Lan Qiren found himself blurting out the first thing that came to mind, which in this case was, “I’m best at guqin and xiao.”

He was pretty sure that wasn’t what she meant, though. He thought he detected dissatisfaction about her, possibly at his inferior answers, and he had the vague sense of what he might call hostility or resentment if she had been some evil creature, but he was, as his fellow disciples liked to remind him, notoriously terrible at understanding emotions.  

“Your talents must be prodigious.” Madame Wen smiled at him, face tight; he must have said something wrong. “You must forgive me my ignorance on the subject. I have no doubt that when you are in the field, it is terribly difficult to compete against you.”

“…I took first place at the music competition at the last discussion conference,” he said. Even if he suspected that she might not be talking about music, he was truly at sea in terms of what she was talking about. “But naturally that was only against my peers.”

Madame Wen’s eyes narrowed in a glare.

Lan Qiren had only meant that there were teachers far more skilled than he, but he had the distinct feeling that he might have accidentally insulted her.

He really wanted to stop having this conversation. Why couldn’t some of the rumors she heard about him have been about how bad he was at picking up subtext? Or, if he was indulging in futile wishes, something about how his cold and monotone voice was simply a characteristic, not a measure of how he felt about someone?

“Prodigious indeed,” she said through gritted teeth. “It seems I should ask for a demonstration of your talents.”

Wait, was that was she was hinting at? It was a little rude to make such a request on their first acquaintance – it made him feel a bit like a hired musician, rather than her husband’s sworn brother – but thinking on it further he didn’t mind. He did intend to be a musician one day, a traveling musical cultivator, and he had never minded playing for people. It was easier than talking to them.

“Is there anything in particular Madame Wen would like to hear?” he asked.

She named a song, fairly common and romantic in nature – at least one variation of the lyrics was crude enough that it saw regular use in brothels, but the tune itself was perfectly ordinary, and he supposed the sort of thing a young woman might enjoy. And after all, Madame Wen couldn’t be more than a half-dozen years older than he was, even if her poise and stature suggested an older woman.

Lan Qiren obediently settled in the spot that Madame Wen directed him to, taking out his guqin and checking it over meticulously to make sure it had made it through the travel without issue.

He had just started to play when there was a sound outside, the door opening; Lan Qiren looked up and saw Wen Ruohan enter the room in with a swirl of white-and-red robes.

He did not look pleased.

Lan Qiren began to stand, intending on saluting, but Wen Ruohan waved a hand at him before he could even start to rise up.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked his wife instead.

She smiled back at him, her expression seemingly full of meaning: “What do you mean, husband? I heard by chance that your sworn brother had arrived, and I thought to greet him, as any good wife ought to do.”

“Greet,” he said, his lips turned down. “Is that what you call it, when you have your guest play brothel songs for you?”

Technically, the song had been originated in a play –

“He agreed,” Madame Wen said. “But naturally my husband’s happiness is what I care for most. If my husband dislikes it, or think that I have insulted his sworn brother by permitting him to behave like a pretty flower selling favors in the red-light district –”

“Accompanist,” Lan Qiren corrected, and they both turned to stare at him. Their expressions were both quite intense, as if he’d said something wrong. He hesitated, but continued, “My understanding may be flawed, but I thought most brothel singers hired professional musicians to accompany them, so as to better reflect their beauty and increase – ”

“What are you implying?” Madame Wen snapped, and Lan Qiren recoiled a little.

“I didn’t mean – I only – it’s just that I heard –” he stuttered, and Wen Ruohan laughed.

“Perhaps I was too quick to dismiss the comparison,” she said coldly. “The flower appears beautiful from afar, but its thorns still cut deep.”

“My sworn brother is no flower,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were curved; he seemed much calmer now, making the room less fraught. “But rather a pearl unlike any other.”

“Oh yes,” Madame Wen said, and she was sneering outright now. “Naturally you would think so. Who does not know of your – great friendship?”

Lan Qiren wouldn’t go that far. Not even half as far, really. He was just opening his mouth to point out that they barely knew each other, really, but he never got the chance; Madame Wen tossed her head, her tiara of gold and rubies making bell-like sounds, and placed her hand on her belly.

“I will retire,” she announced. “I would not dream of intruding in the time that you two wish to share. Perhaps he can play for us at dinner, if it is not too much of an imposition on his time.”

Wen Ruohan merely stepped aside and allowed her to go, saying nothing.

Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the rumors must have misjudged Wen Ruohan – surely if he were as cruel and ruthless as all that, he wouldn’t have taken such insolence without raising a response.

“Forgive me,” he said, and Wen Ruohan looked at him.

“For what?” he asked, his habitual equanimity returned to him. “You did nothing.”

“She doesn’t seem to like me,” Lan Qiren said, bowing his head. “I’m not sure what it was that I did to cause it, but it was not my intent to cause trouble.”

Especially the sort of trouble he’d been specifically instructed to avoid, he thought, a little miserably; he remembered now all the admonitions of how, brothers or no brothers, oath or no oath, no man would want to anger the woman who bore him sons.

“Think nothing of it,” Wen Ruohan said, and when Lan Qiren stole a glance he did not in fact seem upset. “It is the early growing pains of marriage, little more, and worsened by her current condition. I was clear enough when we started out, promising her respect, power, sons, and even freedom, yet she can’t stop herself from scheming for more...truly well-suited to be my wife, provided she learns not to go too far.”

Lan Qiren did not understand.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and chuckled. “Do not concern yourself with it. You are not the object of her grudge, merely a convenient target.”

“She seemed to be fairly deliberately aimed to me,” Lan Qiren said doubtfully.

“Mm. Which of us has experience being married, again..?”

Lan Qiren ducked his head back down, conceding the point, and then, with an effort, shook his head to clear it of cobwebs and smiled at his sworn brother. “Well, you wanted me to come to visit you, da-ge, and here I am,” he said. “I look forward to the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

Wen Ruohan seemed oddly taken aback, almost more surprised by Lan Qiren’s sincerity than by his wife’s tricks and sarcasm, and it took several moments of staring before he finally responded with a simple nod. “I look forward as well.”

“I find we have not had time to get to know each other without a third party acting as a medium,” Lan Qiren continued. “Would you like to play a game or two of weiqi? I’m not…especially good at social interaction, getting to know people, but I’m sure I can manage to lose a game with some grace.”

Wen Ruohan had started smiling. “You assume you’ll lose?”

“I assume you have slightly more experience than me, yes. I’m decently skilled, but I prefer to spend my time on music…I really am happy to play for you and Madame Wen after dinner, if you’d like. A good life requires a happy home, and I can’t even imagine how difficult bearing children must be; I’m happy to accede to her request. Anyway, I enjoy playing.”

“I would be happy to hear that piece you played at the discussion conference once more,” Wen Ruohan said. “Though if you’re acceding to her request, I note – after dinner?”

“Well, naturally,” Lan Qiren said, puzzled. “I assumed she had misspoken. I mean, I’m your guest, aren’t I? Only hired musicians play at dinner instead of eating. If she really wanted music with her dinner, she would need to pay me.”

Wait, that sounded wrong.

“Not that I’d accept,” he added quickly. “I wouldn’t disrespect your hospitality in such a way.”

Wen Ruohan was grinning. “Indeed,” he drawled. “Undoubtedly she misspoke…it’s been rather a long while since I’ve played weiqi, but I think I’ll still be able to manage to trounce you. Let’s go find out.”

Lan Qiren gathered up his guqin and followed Wen Ruohan to the door.

“Oh, and little Lan?” Wen Ruohan said as they walked out into the hallway, his voice casual and indolent. “There’s no need for you to spend much time with my wife while you’re here. I wouldn’t want her to suffer too much stress, given the child.”

Lan Qiren didn’t entirely understand the request, but he nodded gamely. “I’ll avoid her when she’s not with you,” he offered, and felt pleased when Wen Ruohan nodded in satisfied acknowledgement. “I don’t want to cause her any more concern.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said, opening the door to another room – his bedroom, Lan Qiren thought as he spotted the familiar set of six treasure swords on the wall. There was a table there that would work well for a game of weiqi, and Lan Qiren supposed it made sense for Wen Ruohan to want to be comfortable while at home. They were brothers, after all… “I’ll have the servants set out the game. Shall we walk in the garden in the meantime?”

“That sounds good,” Lan Qiren agreed, then looked down at his guqin. “I should put away my things, if the room I’m in is not too far? I really didn’t have an opportunity…”

“Your room is just down the hall,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re family now, aren’t you?”

Lan Qiren smiled.

Maybe this will work out after all, he thought.

[veniteme]

Hunting for Gems

season preview

ash island x reader

prev | next

When Ash Island is forced to participate as a producer for the latest season of Show Me the Money, he knows it won't be easy. But when his partner is you, a rising producer from H1GHR, maybe it won't be as bad as he thought.

2k words

As you stand before the door to the waiting room, heart thudding loudly in your chest, you think back to when the KIFF boys were in your studio eating cake a week ago.

“What am I supposed to do?” you slap Rohan’s arm vigorously as you panic. “How am I supposed to act around him?” The rest of the boys had already left, allowing you to freak out in relative privacy.

You’ve been an avid fan of Ash Island since his days on High School Rapper 2. Once he started releasing music, your infatuation with him only increased. When Jay informed you that you’d be working with him for the entire season of Show Me the Money, your brain immediately worked itself into a frenzy. On one hand, you were excited to meet someone whose music you loved. On the other, how were you expected to function properly next to him with the entire world watching through a camera?

“Okay, first thing you need to do,” Rohan starts, “is stop hitting me! You may be weak, but if you hit me enough it starts to sting okay? And second, just be normal? Act how you usually do.” He makes it sound so easy, as if you won’t die on the spot the moment the two of you make eye contact.

“That is under the assumption that I am able to think with him sitting next to me. And alright, let’s say I am actually capable of saying more than two words in his presence, what if he doesn’t like me? What if he thinks I’m weird or annoying?” You’ll be crushed if this person that you’ve admired for so long decides he doesnt like you.

“Then he’d be a good judge of character?” You hit Rohan even harder. “Ow! Relax, I was just kidding. Look, I’ve known the guy for a couple years now, and he has no right to call someone else weird. Plus, he’s one of the chillest guys I know. You’ll be fine. From what I’ve seen recently, the only time you need to be worried is when the cameras are on.”

“What do you mean?”

-----

While you stood outside the door, Ash is inside, staring nervously at the production crew setting up the cameras. Unlike you, he is not nervous about the two of you meeting. He’s worked with countless artists, featured on so many songs, he is used to interacting with people he didn’t know. What actually scares him is having to be a functioning human being in front of all these cameras.

He’s never done a such a big production like this, never seen so many cameras all pointed at him, capturing his every move. Thinking about all the eyes that will be watching him through that lens gives him anxiety. Normally, he’d be drinking right now to take off a bit of the edge. However, he doesn't think that would help with this cold bad boy image he is already starting to have. On top of being a jerk, the public will then think he was an alcoholic.

Just when he thinks he'll burst from nerves, you decide to walk through the door, a welcome distraction from all the thoughts running through his head.

-----

The first thing you see as you walk in is the production crew. All you are filming today are some short interviews to introduce the producer teams. They’ll be airing it as a teaser for the new season. You bow your head in greeting to the staff as you head to your seat. And that’s when you see him.

The two of you make eye contact, both looking up at the same time. And then you freeze; your brain short-circuits and for a second, all you can do is stare. Ash Island, the guy whose songs take up a good chunk of your playlist, is sitting there, right in front of you.

You break out of your stupor when you hear his voice. “Hey, what’s up?” he says casually. And you realize you’re being incredibly rude to someone who is older and a senior in the industry.

“Hello! I’m Saf. I’m a producer for H1GHR Music,” you introduce yourself officially.  

He chuckles a bit. “Yeah, I know. We’ve seen each other at the H1GHR-Ambition parties.”

“Right,” you say nervously. And you guys had met before, but you didn’t think he’d remember. He was always across the room or on the opposite end of the table, so you two never really interacted. In fact, this is the first time you’ve heard his voice, and not through a song on your phone.  

“So did you want to sit down?” he asks. You’ve just been standing in front of him for a while.  

“Oh!” you immediately take a seat. Now what are you supposed to say? Thankfully, he decides to fill the silence.

“You're friends with Rohan right?” he asks. Not really who you’re thinking about at the moment, but you'll take it.

“Yeah, I am. We're in the same crew,” you explain. “Why, did he say something about me?” you ask, feigning nonchalance. If Rohan said anything remotely embarrassing about you to Ash Island, you were ready to kill him.  

“Oh no, I just remembered him drunk-dialing me last night to wish me luck on the show.” You laughed, making a comment about how dumb Rohan was sometimes. And that’s how the rest of your conversation went until you started shooting, sharing dumb stories about your mutual friend.

-----

SHOW ME THE MONEY SEASON X

Team ASH ISLAND x SAF Q&A

The two are seated side-by-side in front of the camera. Ash Island is looking quite stiff and uncomfortable, while Saf has an easy smile on her face.

Please introduce yourselves.

After a glance at Ash Island, Saf begins her introduction with a bow.

Saf: Hello, everyone. My name is Saf, I’m a producer for H1GHR Music.

Following her lead, it seems Ash Island takes his first breath since the camera started rolling.

Ash Island: Hi, guys. I’m Ash Island from Ambition Musik.

Did you two know each other before the show?

Saf: Well, of course I don’t think there’s anyone interested in Korean hip hop right now that doesn’t know Ash Island. But we’ve also seen each other in passing at events and parties and such. This is my first time really talking to him though.

As she talks, Ash Island appears to loosen up just the slightest. He directs his gaze to Saf when he speaks.

Ash Island: [to Saf] You… can just call me Ash.

Saf looks at him in surprise, her cheeks just the slightest shade darker, undetectable to most.

-----

“WHY DID THEY EDIT IT LIKE THAT?” Rohan’s obnoxious laughter in the background is only furthering your agitation.

“Come on,” Rohan lets out between spurts of laughter. “That had nothing to do with the editing. Don’t tell me that wasn’t exactly how it felt when he looked at you.”

Unable to refute his claim, all you say is “Whatever.”

“Did they have to put in the romantic background music and CGI cherry blossoms though?” you complain.

Ignoring your best friend’s following fit of laughter, you begrudgingly hit play once again.

-----

“Duuuuude I didn’t realize you were so smooth!”

“Our Bition Baby is all grown up!”

“You can just call me Ash,” Changmo repeats in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ash asks, only slightly annoyed that his labelmates had interrupted his studio time. He wasn’t making much progress today anyway.

“Did you not watch the Show Me previews last night?” Hash Swan asks.

“No, I thought I’d avoid the embarrassment of seeing myself on national TV,” Ash replies. He was there when it happened, he didn’t need reminders of how awkward he was on camera.

“Alright, you have to watch this,” Leellamarz says, pulling up the reposted video on Youtube.

-----

You guys are the youngest producer team in the history of the show. Do you feel pressured by this fact?

Saf: [to Ash] Do you want me to answer this one?

He looks at her and nods wordlessly. She smiles at him in return before addressing the camera.

Saf: Of course, working next to such big names and artists can be quite intimidating. But I think as long as we put out work that we can be proud of, I will be satisfied.

Saf: But I would appreciate it if the viewers would look kindly upon us as it is our first time on this show. I’m kind of a wimp; I think I’d be pretty hurt if I saw we were receiving hate comments.

Saf’s smile indicates she’s only joking, and the production team can be heard laughing behind camera.

Ash: I doubt anyone in their right mind would send you hate.

Saf: Why not?

Ash: All you do is sit and smile and release music. What could anyone possibly say about you?

Saf: …I’ll take that as a compliment.

Ash: It was one.

-----

“I hope you know that if you break her heart,” Changmo starts, “I’m petitioning to kick you out of the company. I am NOT risking losing an invite to AOMG-H1GHR parties because of you.”

Ash rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude. Glad to know you have so much faith in me. But also, chill out. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Yet? So you are planning on making a move?” Hash Swan questions. Ash sighs. Why are these guys reading so much into everything he says?

“No, I am not making a move, I barely know her,” Ash refutes. “She’s just a producer that I will be working with for the next couple months.” That day was the first time he’d ever talked to you. There is no reason to get excited about anything just yet, even if he does think you have a nice smile.

“Come on, Ash. She’s not just a producer,” Leellamarz points out. Ash is a bit wary of where he’s going with this-

“She’s a very cute producer.” -and rightfully so. Ash really can’t catch a break with these guys. They all burst out laughing, and Changmo gives Leella a high-five.

“Whatever,” Ash mutters. “Why the sudden interest in my love life anyway?”

“Wow, you’re not even gonna try and deny that you think she’s cute?” Hash asks. This guy is way too observant.

“I have eyes. How am I supposed to not think she’s cute?” Ash says bluntly.

“You know, contrary to what you may believe, not everybody has to find her cute,” Changmo says, mostly just to tease him. “Maybe she’s just not my type,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, that’s because she’s actually nice,” Ash retorts. “And we all know that isn’t your type.”

“That’s never been your type either, Ash, so why the sudden change of heart?” Leella asks.

“Maybe I’m looking for a change of pace,” Ash says with a noncommittal shrug. This is all hypothetical anyway. It’s not like he’s planning on asking you out or anything. He just thinks you’re cute, there is no reason for the guys to make such a big deal out of it.

“Yeah, well be careful. You’re going to make some very scary people mad if you mess around with her,” Changmo warns.

“Please, the H1GHR guys are like literally the nicest guys on the planet. I think I’m safe,” Ash says.

“That’s not who I’d be worried about if I were you.”

-----

a/n: let me know what you think!! was the official show part too short? are there parts that sound weird/awkward? first time writing full fics so i'm always open to feedback!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Always made to break (S.M.)

Summary: Shawn meets someone who reawakens his soul and makes him question his choices in love. 

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 4k

A/N - I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, so I decided to post it and see how you guys like it, so let me know if you want more.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''Were you ever going to tell me?“ She practically growled at Shawn as she threw a magazine in his lap, the tone she used scaring him enough to look up at her face, the beautiful features now twisted with rage and disappointment, something he never wanted to see her direct at him.

''I don't unders-'', but then he saw just what she meant, seeing his face attached to Camilla's on the front page of a random gossip magazine. He knew why she was looking at him with such fire in her eyes, and not the kind he expected to see in the bedroom, but the purest form of hatred mixed with pain.

''Not only did you poise as some poor photography student, but you also claimed you're single?! How stupid can I be, right?“ She put her right hand on her hip, using the back of her left one to wipe under her nose although nothing was there but a fathom sensation of coldness he had caused her insides now manifesting on the outside as well. She didn't shed a single tear yet, her anger not allowing her heartbreak to show.

It is better to hate him for his lies than to feel sorry for herself, she decided.

''I didn't want to...“ Shawn trailed off, unable to find the words. He, a man of many words, a person who had always managed to put his emotions in the most eloquent of ways had found himself speechless at a time he needed his words the most.

''Didn't want what? To tell me you're rich and famous? That you're dating a star? Huh?!“ She huffed, her eyes burning him with the intensity of the unrestrained pit of bursting flames within.

''What was this to you? Huh? A joke? Did it make you feel good to make me the fool?!“ She shouted, the raw emotion ripping her throat like a thousand razorblades.

Bowing his head down, Shawn swallows thickly, his eyes filling with tears he knew would only anger her more in this moment. He doesn't get to cry over breaking her heart, he just doesn't.

At the beginning

It was supposed to be a calm, ordinary Monday morning for Shawn. After months on the road, it was nice to be back home for a short break from the stage and screaming fans, just him and his earplugs and a good cup of coffee. It was supposed to be a regular, lonesome morning to start the day off right, but things never really work out the way we want them to.

Whether he meant to sit in that particular café, in that particular chair, with that particular song playing as he lazily glanced around before taking the first sip of his coffee, Shawn had started a chain of events that would lead him into a world of trouble, yet unimaginable love and heartache.

In that lazy glance, Shawn had managed to catch a young girl's eye, his curls falling over his eyes obscuring his vision. She had merely smiled at him, so sweetly, so shyly, enough for Shawn to return the gesture. Her eyes fell back on her phone and he assumed she was likely sending a message to all her friends about seeing THE Shawn Mendes, probably posting a sneakily taken photo of him in his moment of supposed tranquility as well.

It's not as if he's not used to it, but Shawn really hoped he'd have this morning to himself, a moment to put his thoughts in proper order and a second to breathe. He's been having his picture taken every day, multiple times by fans and paparazzi, especially since he started the whole agreement with Camila and her team.

Shawn was tired of it, drained, so when he hoped for a moment of his own and lost it? He truly didn't feel at ease anymore.

He looked back at the girl once more, angrily with eyes narrowed. She seemed oblivious to his newfound outlet as she kept scrolling on her phone. She was beautiful, Shawn couldn't deny that. In fact, it's why he looked her way in the first place – it's why he sat in this particular café, outside on such a cold morning to have his coffee, all because she caught his eye as he was passing the street. However, whatever drew him in had now pushed him away as he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

That's when she looked up from her phone and trained her eyes on him again, a confused look passing her features as she stood slowly, setting herself on a path toward him.

Rolling his eyes, Shawn reminded himself to be nice for his image is kindness and never random rage outbursts on young girls who want a photo with him. He drew in a short, quick breath of fresh air before he looked up at her when she stopped a few feet away from him, prepared to fake it if need be.

"I’m really not in the mood.” Shawn says before he can stop himself, mentally face palming when he sees the girl’s eyebrows furrow, her bottom lip sinking between her teeth as she cleared her throat.

“I wanted to ask if you needed something aside from the coffee considering you’ve been looking at me this whole time. I just assumed you were annoyed because my colleague hasn’t been out in a while. I’m sorry for making the wrong assumption and bothering you.” She wasn’t harsh or rude, making Shawn feel even guiltier as he paled. Finally realizing she’s the waitress, Shawn’s paleness is quickly replaced with a crimson shade that he could never truly hide.

The girl didn’t get a chance to walk away as he stood up abruptly, knocking the table up in the process with his thighs, some of his coffee spilling over.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rude, I just…I do want something.” Shawn exclaimed, hoping he can dig himself out of this deep hole he managed to dig for himself in a matter of seconds. “A bagel! And a brownie, please?” Shawn gave her an awkward smile, running his hand through his messy curls as she studies him with care, unsure if she should say something about his odd behavior or just take it like she usually does.

There are worse customers than him, she thinks.

“Sure.” She sighs, placing her phone on his table before whipping out a small notepad to write his order down, walking away right after.

Sitting down, Shawn sighed heavily at his stupidity, chuckling at himself. Rubbing his forehead to soothe an oncoming headache, he opens his eyes only to find her phone is still on the table, unlocked at that!

He stared at the gadget with great interest, wondering if he had assumed more than one thing wrong and if he had to change his opinion of this girl entirely. He didn’t want to take the phone and search it, but what’s the harm in peering over his cup to see what app she’s got open, right?

“Most common complications of a bowl resection?” Shawn reads under his breath, his eyebrows knitted together as he stares at the words that quite frankly sound like they came from a Grey’s anatomy episode.

“What are you doing?” A sweet voice startles him into a small yelp, the girl chuckling at this tall hunk who seems to be so clumsy and presumptuous that she can’t quite figure him out yet.

“Oh, I…Uh…I’m a simple guy, really. I see a phone screen and I have to sneak a peek, except I can’t understand a damn thing written on there.” Shawn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, sure as hell that his face is tomato red by now. He hates tomatoes just as much as he hates his treacherous cheeks for betraying every emotion he’s ever had.

Giggling, she places his order on the table, pushing back a strand of hair behind her right ear. She takes her phone swiftly, pocketing it in a single move.

“Yeah, I’ve got an exam to prepare for. Been working the night shift! Lucky me!” She exclaims sarcastically, her lips pressed together before she places the bill on his table too, turning around to go.

She isn’t even wearing a uniform, Shawn realizes, watching her as she takes her bag and begins to pack her things from the table she was sat at before. She took his order even after her shift ended. Biting down on his bottom lip, Shawn could sense a war is brewing between his head and heart, each arguing why he should or should not go after her.

Shawn’s always been a heart guy, deciding to go ahead and listen to it once again.

Jumping to his feet, Shawn moves toward her on instinct, not quite ready for her to go. He’s got too much accumulated guilt over judging her and assuming things about her that he was clearly wrong about and while she didn’t know it, he still wanted to make amends. Shawn needed to do something nice for the girl who had been kind enough not to cuss him out for being inexcusably rude to her.

“Where are you going?" He asks before he could stop himself. His head cocked to the side, his eyes shifting from the ground to the unknown girl. He barely knew her, hell, Shawn didn’t even know her name, but his heart stopped and he could barely breathe when she decided to leave.

She looked up in wonder, observing him with slight worry in her eyes, another thing he found endearing.

“I have that exam in an hour. Gotta get to my bus on time.” She shrugged, giving him a tiny wave as a means to say goodbye.

Shawn needed more time with her. He needed to talk to her, to get to know her, to at least find out her name. For some reason he couldn’t even fathom, Shawn felt drawn to this stranger, this girl who didn’t seem to know or give a damn about who he is. She is the type of people he surrounds himself with – people who are grounded and will keep him human. He wouldn’t admit to it, but she was also a beauty he couldn’t part with for reasons not of the mind, but of the heart. He knew it wouldn’t be a smart idea to get involved with someone now, not when he was under contract to be with someone else and so publicly.

However, when she made a move to leave, Shawn had to react before his heart completely stopped.

"I'm guessing you need a ride?" His voice was soft-spoken and mellow, sending a warm glow throughout Y/N’s body.

"Taking the bus won’t kill me, but thanks for the offer." Y/N smiled, waving at the café’ window. Shawn grabbed a twenty and left it on his table quickly, pointing at it in hopes of someone coming out to take the money for he had no time to pay for it right now. Shawn had decided to get in his car and chase after the girl who had started her walk to the nearest bus station, her determined walk noticeable and distinctive.

“You said you’ve been working all night, right?” He talked loudly, needing her to hear him, as if she could miss a car like his slowing down beside her or the doe-eyed guy nearly shouting at her through his open window.

“Yeah. So?” She stops, crossing her arms over her chest, uncertainty in her eyes. She looked at Shawn with such confusing emotion that he could hardly breathe when he allowed himself the luxury of staring into her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she knew him for years, that they have history, that they’ve met in a previous life. The look in her eyes and the feeling he’d get in his heart when he’d meet her gaze? It felt like more than two strangers talking.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop, now do ya?” Shawn tried, unsure how to convince her to let him drive her.

“I’d also prefer not to be killed by the seemingly kind stranger who offered me a ride.” She cocked an eyebrow, starting to walk again which forced Shawn to press down on the gas pedal lightly.

“My name’s Shawn and I promise I’m not a killer, just a big supporter of education who has nothing better to do than help a girl who looks like she could use a kind gesture after a hard night.”

Y/N stops again, rolling her eyes at the sky before letting out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Was it wise to get into a car of a man she knew for less than an hour? A handsome stranger that could easily turn out to be a Ted Bundy she found herself attracted to?

Definitely not wise, she thought as she opened the passenger door and sat inside.

"Cute name." she smiled shyly.

“I’m Y/N.” She tells him, putting on the seatbelt before looking into his whiskey brown eyes.

“Your name is cuter.” Shawn’s crooked smile made her heart flip. The wind gently brushed his curls as he kept his window open, the breeze grazing his face, almost soothingly.

This is what he needed though, some adventure. Some risk. Some danger. Giving a ride to a girl he met didn’t constitute as adventure, risk or danger, but being seen doing so? Definitely.

She types in the location in his GPS, leaning back in her seat as the radio fills the silence. Nearly choking on his own saliva, Shawn changed the song he had recognized just by the first few beats, before Senorita could blast through the speakers.

“So, uh…what kind of music do you like?” Shawn asked awkwardly, feeling her gaze upon him not a second later. It’s as if being set on fire, but not in the way it hurts the skin, rather puts the soul on a path worth taking.

“Classical mostly. Old rock music too.” She responds, receiving a hum from Shawn in response. He relaxed visibly, knowing there’s a much lesser chance that she’d know he’s Shawn Mendes if he’s not what she usually listens to.

“You seem like a pop-rock kind of a guy.” She assumed, lifting her left eyebrow quizzically, waiting for him to agree or deny.

Shawn couldn’t hold himself back from smiling widely, nodding before sparing her a quick glance. “Nice guess.” He adds, noticing her cheeks redden, not nearly as bad as his, but enough to know she’s not indifferent.

“So, you’re a med student or a method actor?” Shawn chuckled, catching her playfully rolling her eyes at him and his stomach flipped at the gesture. She looked cute even annoyed with him and he knew he’d love to annoy her for a really long time if she’d let him.

“First one would be right!” She exclaimed, pressing her lips together as she turned to the side, looking out the window instead of him.

“That’s pretty impressive! Beauty and brains? It’s every man’s dream.” Shawn told her honestly, at least from his perspective. He had already found himself on her hook, wanting more and more all the while knowing he’ll soon have to leave her at the university and in less than a month, he’d leave the continent as well.

“You might be the only guy thinking that. It feels the day I started med school, I signed some invisible contract where I was doomed to be lonely and friendless. I never have time for friends or relationships. When I’m not in class, I’m working or studying. If I do have free time, I’m usually exhausted to the point of just curling up and watching Netflix. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” She bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Shawn.

She didn’t know why she told him this, something she’d been carrying around on her shoulders for so long. She barely knows him, yet Shawn just oozes good vibes and trustworthiness that she couldn’t help herself. It’s been a while since she had someone to be genuine with, so what’s the harm in oversharing with a stranger she’ll likely never see again?

“If you’re passionate about something, it will often demand you abandon all else. There will be times where you’ll wonder why you ever did it, why you’ve made such a decision as if you didn’t know it would be like this…you did, I know you were aware it would be hard and let me tell you, all the good things in life are hard and demand sacrifice and once you’ve got it, you’ll be reminded just why you chose it. Something happens and you’re reminded and you’ll be back in the right mindset.” Shawn tightens his hold on the steering wheel, aware he’s telling himself the same.

He’s lost the passion he used to have for music in the circus his team imposed on him and now he’s here, in the car with a girl he just met yet felt so incredibly connected to in comparison to the girl he’s supposedly dating that it was hard not to feel like life turned on him.

When he started writing music and playing it live, Shawn never realized how fake the public persona he’d have to create would be. He always thought musicians had free reign to be who they are, to enjoy life, but he’s received a cold shower of pure facts in the past year and he’s still struggling to come to terms with it.

“I really hope so.” She smiled, reaching out for his hand. She laid her palm gently on the back of Shawn’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it quickly.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of bummed we’re already here.” Shawn sighed as he parked, looking over at the girl he wanted to stay more than ever. She wasn’t a stranger anymore, not even close. In his world, the rule states you’re no longer strangers if you’ve:

A) gotten drunk together

or

B) had a heart to heart.

“Bet you say that to all the strangers you give a lift to.” Her lips pulled to the left into a crooked smile, one Shawn wanted to make wider, brighter.

“Just ones I really like.” Shawn countered, smiling as well. It’s hard to resist a smile when she’s got her angelic lips spreading into the smile he wanted to see.

“You like me, eh?” She teased, coyly lifting an eyebrow as she lets her lips pucker.

“Never denied it.” Shawn raised his hands in a mock surrender, chuckling.

Then he moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into her own, as if he could see who she is underneath all the layers she’s created to protect herself from the hurt. It’s like he sees her soul, the real Y/N and never in her life had she felt seen like she did with Shawn. He made her feel like she’s the only girl in the world and she knew then she’d never find that gaze in any other man’s eyes, never such intensity, raw emotion and understanding.

“As long as we’re clear on that.” She smirked, moving away slightly, not ready for what his eyes were telling her.

“Are you feeling better about the exam now? About everything? Because I meant what I said. You’ll be okay, even if it feels otherwise.” Shawn decided to diffuse the situation, the tension growing too fast for her to be comfortable with it, he could tell.

“About the fact that I’m not sure if I’ll ever find love or be the girl a guy would go to the ends of the world for?” She shrugged, chuckling dryly.

It’s much easier to make fun of what bothers her than face it head on. She’s been feeling so lost for such a long time that her coping mechanisms weren’t quite something most people are used to. But Shawn? He doesn’t even blink at her darkness. He doesn’t look away or shows he’s tired of her already. He doesn’t push her away for being so gloomy, he’s doing the opposite. He listens as if her words are golden, some elixir he's been waiting all his days to hear.

From what he says next she can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of her. And in his words is a kindness, a concern that is so quick that, for him, it is natural. This attentiveness is a part of who he is and that is the most attractive feature Y/N’s ever seen in a man.

“You are though. I’ve known you for an hour and I’m already thinking just how badly I want to take you out and shower you with affection. You’re so beautiful, so raw, so fucking oblivious to your qualities that it makes me both angry and stubbornly certain that I want to change your view of yourself.” Shawn takes her hand in his, clasping it between his palms as his left hand, the one with a swallow tattoo, closes over hers. A tattoo like that would be hard to forget.

“I’ve found out that you’re intelligent, hardworking, ambitious, funny in a nonconventional way, incredibly brave for setting out on this journey, extremely good and devoted to helping humanity one person at a time, caring and you think of others even when you don’t have to. You were kind to me when I wasn’t to you, honest and open with your heart and mind…And that’s all within an hour of knowing you. And I desperately want more as creepy as it may sound.” Shawn’s words have made her eyes gloss over and she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling too.

When a woman’s sure she’s destined to be alone and that her perfect man isn’t real and then finds him when she’s given up on the notion – it’s a shock to the body. His smile alone burnishes her soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. Before they met, both Shawn and Y/N were one, now they’re each a half, yet somehow so much more than they ever were before.

“I’m really glad I met you, Shawn. It’s truly an honor.” She managed to say before she leaned in so swiftly he had no chance to even move. Her lips brushed his for no longer than a moment, a single breath yet long enough to make him crave more, so much more. Just as quickly as they warmed his heart, her lips were gone and so was she.

He watched her walk away, her head bent as she stared at her shoes in thought, his heart slamming against his ribcage helplessly. He’d have ran after her, but he couldn’t afford some of the students recognizing him and snapping a photo. He couldn’t risk the world knowing he was living a lie, dating Camila on paper but already in love with a woman he was destined to fail in the long run.

Shawn should have let Y/N become a sweet memory he’d return to when the nights became too cold, too lonely to brave on his own. He should have let it be a fantasy, but he couldn’t. Whether he wanted it or not, Shawn was drawn to the same café the very next morning, hoping to run into the medical student who had captivated him.

[concubuck]

((Conversations today, plus OOC discussions I've had recently about how Alastor shows care by not asking direct questions about how someone's doing, plus recent IC conversations where he's danced around asking things directly, reminded me of a very important headcanon I've been meaning to share for a while. First you've gotta read this essay:

Unlearning How White People Ask Questions

And if you DON'T wanna read the essay, here's a couple of important excerpts. One:

Unbidden, [a question about revealing personal details of someone else’s life] can be quite an invasion. The presumption that one is entitled to such information is rarely made explicit, but that doesn’t prevent it from forcing other people to make a painful choice: Disclose something they want to keep secret or flatly refuse to answer (which oddly enough usually makes them, rather than the questioner, look rude).

Two:

[A] marriage-minded black woman who is dating a man [...] wonders if he has a good job. But instead of grilling him with “So what do you do for a living?”, she signifies “Whatever oil well you own, I hope it keeps pumping!”.

Her signifying in this way is a sensitive, respectful method to raise the issue [because] it keeps the control under the person whose personal information is of interest. Her comment could be reasonably responded to by her date as a funny joke, a bit of flirtation, or a wish for good luck. But of course it also shows that if the man freely chooses to reveal something [...] he can do so and know she will be interested.

Alastor is a professional communicator, from a racially mixed family. This is something he knows and uses—sometimes to extremes.

To him, courtesy and kindness is asking indirect personal questions—signifying to the other party that he's interested in knowing more, but giving them the freedom to choose how much they want to share, if anything.

You might notice that, especially when talking to his alternates—especially upset alternates—he very rarely asks them questions about how they're doing. He makes vague leading statements about them that invites them to offer him more info—and if they don't offer it, he doesn't pry for it.

When he's direct in asking for info, it means either "I know you well enough that I'm confident you're comfortable in sharing this information," or "this is too important for manners," or else "you mean so little to me that I don't care about being rude and making you uncomfortable."

And, in turn, when he's directly asked for personal info—especially by a stranger—he doesn't see it as a kindness or a friendly invitation to open up and share more about himself. He sees it as an emotional violation, and he'll respond in kind—typically in a way that attempts to highlight/expose the asker as being rude, since the default cultural assumption is "the person who doesn't answer the question is the rude one" and he has to reverse that narrative in order to make himself "look good." In his head he's probably thinking "You fucking asshole."))

[aurathian]

Hey! I'm so glad your requests are open, I love your writing and I would love to suggest something. In my opinion, everyone noticed that Link and Zelda liked each other even before they knew. I imagine Urbosa, Revali, Daruk, or even Purah or Robbie would constantly be teasing them about that, only for them to quickly deny it and blush with embarrassment. But maybe this could lead the blondies to having interesting conversations, don't you think?

Firstly, I am SO sorry at how long this took. Life is really getting ahold of me, and it’s only getting worse. I decided to experiment with present tense in this oneshot, so I hope it turned out to your liking despite the experimental nature! Thanks for your request.

Rumors

Zelda rolls her eyes. “Please,” she groans. “I don’t like him.”

“Come on, Princess, you totally do!” Impa lightly taps her on the shoulder and wiggles her eyebrows. The princess reels back in playful disgust and smiles.

“Impa, I really don’t. We are just...” she searches for the right words. “Acquaintances...?”

“Friends,” Impa offers. “Maybe more.”

“There is no maybe, Impa. It’s simply false. The implication I like him, that is.”

Impa runs a hand over her face and rolls her eyes, too, following Zelda as she continues down the hall. “You guys go everywhere together!”

“He is my knight.”

“He held your hand that one time—”

“We were about to be blown up by a raging Guardian,” Zelda scolds, and she stops to face Impa. “It’s his duty to protect me, and he grabbed my hand to help me keep up with his speed.”

“Sure, Princess.” Impa crosses her arms. “But you can’t deny that—”

“Besides,” Zelda interrupts unintentionally, her voice soft and low in the castle halls, “I don’t think anyone would want to be with a failure like me.”

Impa blinks. Once, then twice. “Um...” she’s caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood. “That’s not true. I, for one, would love to be with you!”

“Impa!” Zelda scolds, her face burning scarlet. “I simply mean that I have much to worry about and don’t have the time to think about relationships. I need to fulfill my duty.”

“Everyone has a little spare time for love, Princess.”

Zelda gazes out the window next to her into a small green courtyard. “Not me,” she disagrees. “He is fulfilling his duty beyond what is expected. I need to figure out how to do the same.”

A guard approaches the pair of women and tells Impa that she’s needed elsewhere in the castle. Impa walks off with the guard after saying goodbye to Zelda, making sure to turn around and make kissy faces at her as she walks away. 

Zelda chuckles quietly, but it really does bother her. The endless questions, assumptions, the never-ending looks she receives when she’s out with her knight Link. Ever since he was appointed as her knight, the rumors ran rampant. Part of her wishes that she would’ve been left alone to train day and night to appease the Goddesses that refuse to answer her even now, but the other part of her appreciates the support, however silent it is. 

Zelda continues her stroll through the castle only to run into the Champions returning from the throne room at an intersection in the hallway.

“Hello,” she greets politely, still a little uncomfortable around them and in awe of the sheer power they each held individually. She feels that it would be rude to get too friendly too fast, given their statuses in their homelands. 

“Hey, Princess!” Daruk bellows boisterously, his mouth positioned in a never-ending smile. “What’re you up to?”

Revali tuts and crosses his arms. “What a foolish question, Daruk. She lives here. What do you think she’s doing?” Zelda frowns and tilts her head ever so slightly in disapproval. Each of the champions has a strong personality, she knows, but Revali’s is arguably the strongest.

“I’m just on a walk,” she explains to Daruk with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Well, we’re—” his smile drops when he realizes he forgot.

Urbosa claps him on the back and a few sparks light up from her hands. She laughs heartily, deeply, warmly, and looks at Zelda. The Princess Zelda always found comfort in Urbosa. When her mother died, Urbosa was the only woman in her life that was there for her, especially in her younger years.

“We just got our next mission from the King,” Urbosa tells her. “We’re on our way to vanquish some monsters from the Breach of Demise.”

“By ‘we’, she means ‘I’,” Revali cuts in. “We all know I do all the work.” Urbosa shoots him a glare and its enough to silence him for a little while.

They talk a little while longer about boring, menial things, like how it is back home or what their plans are after they defeat the Calamity. Zelda wishes she could think like them.

“Mipha, aren’t you craftin’ some armor for someone?” Daruk asks loudly, and Mipha turns even redder than her skin.

“I— well, yes, I am.”

“Really?” Urbosa says in surprise. “There’s a special voe in your life, little vai?”

Mipha only nods.

Suddenly, Revali groans, and it’s an unheavenly and demonic sound. He turns to face the wall behind him, arms still crossed. “Look who it is!” he yells. “The great knight!” His voice is riddled with notes of sarcasm and disdain.

Zelda’s gaze shifts away from the proud Champions and to Link, who is still approaching them. His face is the same; mouth flat and eyes dull. He always looks bored, but perhaps indifferent is the better word. Zelda doesn’t quite know the words to describe his demeanor. It crosses her mind then that she’s never seen him smile.

She doesn’t realize it, but her face glows pink.

“Princess, are you alright?” Mipha’s soft voice breaks Zelda’s trance and she blinks out of it. “You’re red.”

She realizes.

“I—I am not!” she says defensively, fanning her face. Daruk is puzzled, but Mipha and Urbosa share knowing glances. The tall Gerudo warrior strides over to the princess and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“The princess and I are going to talk for a moment,” she says with a wink at Mipha, who blushes. “I’ll meet up with you outside the castle.” The Champions walk away, and Revali doesn’t miss his chance to send a searing glare at Link. As usual, the knight doesn’t react, and it makes the Rito even angrier.

“Link, you can be on your way as well,” Urbosa tells him. He looks at Zelda and back at Urbosa, and his gaze makes the princess feel a little weak. “Oh, I see. Come along, then.”

Zelda and Urbosa walk side by side while Link trails behind a little ways, unable to hear their whispers.

“You make it so obvious,” Urbosa says. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Please, I just had this conversation with Impa. I don’t know if I can make it any clearer that I have no romantic incline toward Link.”

“Your mother was a very busy woman.”

“My mother? What does she—”

“She often overworked herself, much like you, little bird.” Urbosa’s voice is warm and comforting, a stark contrast from the strong inflection she uses when giving commands. “She never allowed herself time off.”

“I do not overwork myself.”

“She also had a habit of denying the obvious. I see you inherited that as well.”

Zelda grumbles under her breath and Urbosa smiles. “When she made time for herself, she found someone. Your father.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Zelda, it’s okay to indulge a little. To want something. Even when your father demands that you train, it’s okay to be a little selfish.”

Zelda stares up at Urbosa in admiration. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone now,” the chief says. “Sav’orq!” Urbosa walks down the hallway and turns a corner quickly.

Zelda groans. “We are not lovebirds!” she calls after Urbosa, but she’s long gone. She stops walking and turns to face her knight whose expression is still blank. “And you... I assume you don’t have much of an opinion on the matter?”

Link tilts his head, a silent show of confusion.

“Surely you’ve heard the rumors.” She steps closer and hisses, “We’re secret lovers.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his cheeks do. They flare a bright red like she’s never seen on him before. “It’s just silly,” she sighs, “and frustrating. Because I don’t feel that way about you. I think.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me what you think about it,” she demands. “I want to know.”

He doesn’t say anything still, but he’s thinking, and she can tell.

“I don’t mind,” he says plainly.

“You don’t... what?” She’s surprised, maybe a little disappointed, but she dwells more on the sound of his voice—soft and the exact opposite of what she imagined. “Why wouldn’t you mind? The rumors are wrong in every way! I simply don’t have time to have a lover and how scandalous is the mere idea! Other than that, you wouldn’t want to be with me. I can’t do the simplest things.”

“I think they’re sorta true.”

She squints at him. “What?”

“I like you. And I think you can do more than you think.”

Before she can say anything, someone calls his name down the hall. He mutters an apology, bows, and runs away.

Alone in the hallway she sighs and cups her cheek with her hand. She giggles, brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “He likes me.”

Maybe the rumors hold some truth.

[feckin-zicons]

that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway!  TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

[pollenat]

“Night shift” | lcr.

➛ ITZY’s Chaeryeong. Angst. ???!au.

➛ Word count: 1211.

Though you’re aware it may be the last time you see her, you speak nothing of the matter. You can’t bring yourself to break the sweet atmosphere. Not when Chaeryeong is smiling at you like that - like just the sight of you alone is enough to right all the wrongs in this cruel world. You can’t help but appreciate how effortless it is for her to make you speechless. Just a look and you’re a goner. Taking her hair as an example, it’s tied into a neat braid that rests on one of her arms. Your fingers tingle, just so you’d allow them to touch the braid’s end. But it would be both heart-breaking and rude.

You know she likes you. Years of experience allow you to translate her body language without difficulty. She has an ironic crush on someone with blood dried under their fingernails. What’s more ironic, is that you reciprocate the feelings. You also crush on the girl that should be left alone to go on with her life.

“You’re not eating tonight?” She asks and you guess that her small jump is a picture of pride she’s feeling because of her question.

With a humored smile, you shake your head no, though the freshly stacked shelf of your “favorites” has earned itself a glance. Chaeryeong laughs nervously, her hand disappearing somewhere to her right. Piles of products cover the part of countertop - your eyes don’t reach the object of interest.

“Sooo... You’re not buying anything?” But you’re sure she meant to ask whether you came to the store just to see her.

“No. I guess-” Now you’re the one to laugh nervously. “I guess I wanted to just visit you.”

Her eyes widen. She’s quick to lower her gaze, embarrassed by your sudden confession. Though Chaeryeong’s facing the tiled floor, you can see the corners of her lips raising. It’s a sweet stomach-twisting feeling. Tomorrow, in a matter of few hours, it’ll become just a memory, never meant to be revisited again. After all, it’s your fault. You allowed the relation to develop further. But telling her to forget? Too difficult. You are willing to leave her without anything more than a goodnight.

“Oh,” she stammers. “that’s nice.”

Nice. You’re not planning on taking her accountable for the poor choice of words. She must be feeling the same amount of nerves you’re going through. Chaeryeong is just worse at hiding her real state. Eyes glance at you for a split second, hoping to be sneaky. But you’re stuck watching her, hoping to take in everything that there is to be taken about the girl - hoping that the memory of her shy smile will imprint itself in your mind.

“Yeah- I mean- Not as in nice, just-” A part of you wants to pull your fingers out, mad at the embarrassing attempt at a statement, but the other one swells with pride at the sound of Chaeryeong’s sweet laugh.

She seems genuinely humored by whatever it is you said. Amazing how she can make a moment purely wrong seem like a genius gambit.

Truth be told, you didn’t think the evening through, before coming to visit her. You’re lost on words, unsure where to lead the conversation. Whether to lead it anywhere at all. Seems like all you can expect from the time spent with Chaeryeong is a certain heartbreak. One that will happen in a matter of minutes. One that you will cause.

“Doesn’t it tire you?” Her gaze is blank. “I mean, the job here. Staying up late, restocking instant noodles, avoiding drunks...”

“Sometimes we can’t really complain at our choices. And-” She hesitates. “-I met quite a few characters, so I don’t feel regret.”

You understand her allusion, but instead of smiling, you hold back a sigh. She either acts like, or genuinely doesn’t notice. Behind her, TV anchor announces the beginning of midnight news.

“I should probably get going. I didn’t mean to stay out for so long.”

“Already?” The possibility of her understanding the double meaning sets fire to your fear.

Already, because the blossoming feelings need to be abandoned. Already, because you don’t trust your own voice to stay as neutral as possible.

“Yeah- Uh, see you soon.” Pause. “I hope?” A truth next to one big lie.

“Yeah.”

She stands stiff as you turn around to escape the memory den that are neons and stacked shelves. Smell of iron, so sweet to your nostrils, easily passes your mind, then disappears completely with a breath of fresh air from automatic doors. There’s a split second when you wonder whether the small noise is her voice, or the wind. It’s momentary and doesn’t torment you.

“So,” A feminine silhouette abandons the safety of shadows to meet you. “the blood bag is free now?”

Your face hardens at the question. Anger raises inside, boiling your internal organs. Were you a little bit more jumpy, you’d have made your hands present on her throat.

“We’ve already talked about this, Ryujin. She’s off-limits. Do I have to remind you of our agreement?”

The girl waves you off, annoyed. Just another human. To her, they’re nothing more than legumes – growing only to bear sweet fruit. But when one’s as young as Ryujin, they don’t care about the weak. They truly detest humanity, to the point where they view cities as tables ready for feasts.

“Let’s get going then.”

“If you say so, master.” In her mouth, the word tastes sour. “Though I still think coming here was a waste of energy.”

“Give it a century or two more and you’ll come to understand what it means to be immortal.” Ryujin’s eyes roll as she’s turning away, but you’re too upset to react to it.

Before you take another step forward, a need to look behind one last time forces you into compliance. A moment of weakness, truly. In the grand scheme of things, Chaeryeong is just another girl, another possibility the thought of which makes your heart clutch. Even if your present self loathes the idea, in the end it won’t matter. A mere memory is what she will turn into, though she puts up a fight.

Steps. Your name being called. The noise you were sure you imagined earlier, wasn’t wishful thinking.

There she is, walking out of the store, eyes set on you. As soon as you meet them, her gaze falls. But Chaeryeong can’t defy her curiosity for too long. She looks between you and the alien character of Ryujin. You’re unsure whether she’s trying to read the situation. Before an assumption can be made, the noise of crumpling paper leads your eyes to Chaeryeong’s fist. She’s quick to walk up to you and hand the note over.

“My number.” Without waiting for an answer, she’s gone.

Behind the messily formed ball stands more than just a phone number. You see a six, deformed by creases. Unwrapping it may mean the worst – that your mind, despite your best intentions, will register a way of communication that’s only purpose will be torture.

Ryujin says something, but you’re not listening. When you glance back at the store, Chaeryeong is already inside, turned away from you.

It’s the last time you ever see her.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[devinescribe]

Found You

Part 8 to '100 Promises'

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: swearing, I think that's it

"Oh shit... agh, brainfreeze," you cursed, holding your head. It was a hot summer afternoon, and you had decided to get ice cream with Niragi. "Dumbass," he laughed, watching you groan in pain. You glared at him, the pain going away. "Fuck off," you said, going back to slowly licking at the ice cream. He shook his head, laughing slightly.

He made his way through the hole in the wall. No, it wasn't a hallway, a literal hole in the wall. It went through and led into the kitchen. He had found out about it once when he saw Last Boss come out of it during one of his patrols. He followed it, and saw were it lead. By process of elimination he had narrowed down the other player of the game to be Last Boss. So, in a general assumption, he assumed you would be in the kitchen. It was dark as he made his way through it, hoping to get out of it as soon as possible. It gave him a bad feeling. Why was there a random hole in the wall leading to the kitchen? It seemed awfully strange to him. Like something out of a horror game when the monster jumps out to attack you. "Oh hell no, damn my thoughts straight to hell," he cursed, walking faster through the tunnel.

Finally, he was at the entrance to the kitchen. It was covered up by a couple things, but, he managed. When he did he heard you giggling about something.

"You know, I think this was a great idea," you giggled, nibbling on one of the cookies. "I know of quite a few places to hide if you ever need one. It can get... loud... hectic... and chaotic here," Last Boss responded. You smiled. You were about to bite the cookie again, before arms were around you. In the moment, you panicked, grabbing the person back and flipping them onto their back. You quickly grabbed the knife you'd picked up earlier, pointing it them, before noticing it was Niragi. You let out a relieved sigh. "Ow... that hurt," he groaned, sitting up, holding the back of his head "Sorry. Don't sneak up on me like that," you said. He smirked. "That makes 1,853 games of hide and seek in a row I've won. 8 year winning streak," he bragged, obviously over getting hurt. "Oh go fuck yourself, you whore," you insulted, flipping him off, sticking your tongue out. You turned to Last Boss and smiled. "It was nice hiding with you," you said. Said man was confused on how you kept switching between your emotions so quickly. "Oh... uh, it was nice... hiding with you too, I guess," he responded. You laughed, holding a hand out to Niragi. He grabbed onto you, and you helped him up. "See, I'm a bitch, but at least I'm just a bad bitch, not a heartless bitch," you laughed. He smiled a bit. Standing in the kitchen with you talking, the warmth. Even Last Boss was talking to you. Everything about it felt like home. Home felt like you. Home felt like the feeling he got whenever he was with you. Maybe it was because you were home.

He watched as you talked avidly with Last Boss. You two seemed to get along, which was good. "Shit, it's already 12 am? Don't we have a supply run thingy tomorrow?" You questioned, finally noticing the time. "Uh... yeah," Niragi responded. "At least were not drunk... then Aguni might have a problem," Last Boss said. Both men shuddered, remembering what had happened last time. "Ooh, spill!" You said, sitting on top of one of the counters. Last Boss shook his head, and Niragi looked away. "Was it that bad?" You asked, a smirk building it's way across your face. "One thing you'll notice about Aguni is... he's like... a military dad. He's strict, but also doesn't care at the same time? But there's rules. And since there's few rules, it's not like you can forget. So... yeah," Niragi explained. "Can't wait to actually meet this man and see if you guys are exaggerating," you giggled. "Alright, get off the counter so we can go to your room," Niragi sighed, stretching his arms. "Carry me?" You asked, hiding your laughter. "Last time you said that, we both fell down the stairs," he reminded, rolling his eyes. "That's because you have weak noodle arms you lanky bitch," you said, laughing. "Ahahahaha fuck you."

You three finally made your way up the stairs. "So, does everyone just... party the whole night?" You asked, seeing as there was no on really in the lobby, but you could still hear the heavy bass of the loud music playing outside. Niragi nodded. "Fun for them, annoying for those who actually try to sleep," Last Boss commented. It was really just a paradise for people. A safe haven for players. And why wouldn't it? There's protection, other people, food, supplies, electricity. Anything you could want or need was at the Beach. It was curious how they managed to put it all together. So well thought out.

"Well... goodnight," you said, opening the door to your new room. "I'll wake you up tomorrow. By any means necessary," he stated, disappearing into his room. You sighed, closing the door behind you. It felt the same, but it was different. You knew that it would be hard to adjust, but a part of you had already adjusted. Maybe it was the years of torture through your childhood, or the things you put up with in your day to day life, but this didn't feel weird at all. It felt... normal. Besides the games, no negatives were really made clear to you. So, what was so bad about being here? It seemed better than your normal life. You sighed, shaking your head. You shouldn't be thinking like that, your life before was just fine with Niragi. You thought you had lost him. But, then you found him here. So even in places of despair and chaos, you could find a silver lining. "Ick... that sounds cheesy," you muttered, getting under the covers of the bed. The second you laid down, all the pain in your body was alleviated. The pillows were cold under you, the bed soft. You let out a satisfied sigh. If this was what staying at the Beach was like, you wouldn't mind. But, you also couldn't let yourself fall into that mentality. Your eyes drooped slowly, sleep taking over your body.

"And how was your date?" You asked as soon as he walked into through the door. "We never speak of her again," was all he said with a groan. "Goddamn, that bad? What did she do?" You questioned, as he walked over to the couch, sitting besides you. "Well, at first, she was ok. Then she immediately went into the topic of money, which like big red flag, but I didn't care. Right after we started talking about friends and family. I brought you up, and she was all like 'no, you see, that's not going to work because I have to be the only special girl in your life' and I was like, well... jealous much? I don't know who hurt her but it's... ugh," he groaned. Niragi had never been interested I'm dating per se. He didn't have any interest in anyone all throughout high school, which was one of the reasons people thought you two were together. "What about you? How'd it go?" He asked. "Not great. He was narcissistic, misogynistic, and rude. Like... 'women belong in the kitchen' kind of misogyny. God it was horrible. A total incel of a boy," you explained, shaking your head. "Looks like we both have trouble with dating, hm?" He said, leaning his head back, staring up at the ceiling, following the cracks in them. He'd always suggested you two move, especially with the occupation both of you had, you could afford to move somewhere else. You'd always tell him to wait a couple years because you never know what could happen. You had always said, "What if you meet the person of your dreams and decide to move in with them?" He never thought much about having someone else. It was always (Y/N) and Niragi against the world. It seemed weird to his mother last time she had called to ask about that. He'd told her the same thing. "No one really... interests me. No one ever has."

Now, his mother was a person who changed herself for the better. She had never had the courage to leave her husband, his father, however. She observed her son's behavior, and asked him something that really made his mind question itself. "Do you think no one interests you... because you like (Y/N)? In a more than friend way, I mean." He had never thought about that. At all. He had only ever known kindness from you, and his mother later in life. So, did he? He couldn't have. It would be wrong, wouldn't it? To insinuate such a thing to you?

Screaming, heat, fires, crumbling debris all around you fell. The smoke and ash heavy in the air. " 'Ragi?! What's going on?!"

Shattered glass stuck onto your arms, blood dripping onto the asphalt. "You can't leave me... you can't, not again!"

Wake up.

"(Y/N), you can't leave me now..."

"I can! What the hell made you think that was ok!"

Wake up.

"You're bleeding!"

"No shit Sherlock. It's called getting shot. Somehow, I just can't seem to die."

"Don't fucking say that!''

Wake up.

"Oi! Wake up!"

"Don't leave me-! What the hell? What's going on?"

"It's time to wake up. We have a supply run to do.''

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Intro to Balancing Your Life || Morgan & Sasha

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @sasha-r-blog & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sasha drops in on a new class on campus; Morgan is only too happy to offer encouragements.

“…And who is it that determines the definition of humanity? What kind of definitions do we see offered by Victor, or Henry Cleveral, or the Creature?” Morgan asked the class. The students, while not thrilled with some of Mary Shelley’s ‘big words’ had enough preparation to offer semi thoughtful ideas. Obviously, Victor thought he could define what human means. One of her try-hard students, eager to please every adult in sight, posited that while Victor’s definition of humanity is the one that dominates the narrative, the intrusion of the creature’s perspective halfway through the book is meant to compel the reader into questioning its validity. “Yes!” Morgan tossed the kid a candy from her bowl. “The midpoint crisis here upends our expectations through thought, rather than action. It is, structurally, the center, the heart of the story, changing what we believe to be true. But, are we convinced by the Creature’s definition of his humanity? Why or why no–”

Morgan’s timer, the theme song of The X-Files, went off.

“Shit. Alright, that’s time everybody! Do your homework, do your reading, and get ready for Fan-Fiction Friday! And you–” She pointed to the newcomer sandwiched at the corner of the seminar table. “Come see me for a minute. The rest of you: glad you love each other, but please get out.” As the room cleared out she began to gather up her things. “I’ll level with you, I haven’t checked my roster, so I’m not sure if you’re a late add or just checking things out. But either way, I might be able to answer any questions you have better one-on-one instead of just looking at you across the room.”

Sasha watched the other students mingle and leave, a second of nervousness keeping her in her seat before the professor called out to her. It was hard to parse the tone in Professor Beck’s voice when Sasha’s immediate assumption at a teacher saying to “see me” was that she had fuck up somehow. But either way, Sasha walked towards the desk, dodging any curious looks from her exiting classmates.

“Um, hi. Sorry I didn’t mean to cause any trouble by sitting in.” She shifted the straps of her backpack, tugging them against her shoulders, as if the weight would somehow shield her from the awkwardness. “I’m Sasha Rodriguez. You gave me your office hours awhile ago. I uh, didn’t get a chance to visit but I saw your name on the winter session course list  and thought I’d check it out. I’m trying to branch out I guess.”

It took Morgan a few minutes to place the girl. She didn’t give out her school contact information to everyone, but it happened often enough that she had more than one name floating around her head. But the more she looked at her, the nervousness, the eagerness, the closer Morgan got to a hunch. “Oh, you’re the girl trying to figure everything out in college. I’m glad you decided to come by. If you’ve got some spare time, we can go somewhere and talk? I’d love to have you join in the spring, if you like what you’ve seen so far.” She dumped her books and laptop into her bag, and shouldered the load, handling the bulk with ease thanks to her strength. “Come on. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re branching out from and what you thought about class today.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Sasha said as she moved to follow the professor. She still wasn’t used to how casual some professors could be. In high school they made it sound like professors were all strict, no nonsense, and unforgiving. And Sasha had certainly had professors like that during her first semester. But here was a professor throwing candy to students and cursing in class and talking about fan fiction. It was cool, but weird to process.

“I’m in computer science and I’ve only really taken courses in that department and math stuff. Oh, and also English 101, for the gen ed.” Those classes had been a lot different from what Sasha had just sat in on. Even the one English class she took didn’t really match up, that one having been run by an exhausted looking graduate teaching assistant who didn’t seem all that interested in teaching.

“The class was cool, though I feel like a lot of the stuff you were saying went over my head.” Sasha had a moment of internal panic, worried that came off as implying Professor Beck was bad at teaching. “I’ve just never been good at looking into books, but the class was interesting. I was surprised you mentioned fanfiction at the end. I didn’t think most professors even knew what that was.” Oh no, did that sound rude too? Sasha closed her mouth before she could say something dumb. Besides her advisor, if you could even count their meetings as conversation, and Ben, Sasha hadn’t really spoken one on one with a professor before. It still felt a bit surreal.

“Oh, that’s just because you’re coming in at the tail end of the course. I don’t throw my students into the deep end before I’m certain they can at least, you know, doggie paddle.” Morgan smiled good naturedly and lead them up to the main sitting area in the English building, setting her bag down carefully and making herself comfortable. “I can tell you that looking into books isn’t so different from the way you look into the stories in other media. Movies, TV, video games, comic books--our relationship to the stories we engage with say so much about what we envision for ourselves and the world. The more we understand and invest that relationship, the more empowered we feel to take control of our fate.” Morgan stopped herself from saying anything more and laughed, low and self deprecating. “Oh, jeez, don’t tell the other professors I said that. But, anyways, yes, the aforementioned reasons are what fan-fiction and other forms of counter-storytelling are so important. But more important than that is doing something that’s going to challenge you in positive, enjoyable ways. And making time for a little fun.” Morgan held her fingers up, like this much. “Can I ask how the rest of college is going for you, Sasha?”

Sasha followed her and sat in the unfamiliar sitting room. She gave a small smile as Professor Beck talked about stories and how people related to them, finding that she had been nodding along without realizing. She stopped once she did, somehow worried that it came off as over eager, as if a professor would ever get mad at someone being interested in what they were saying. If only the professor knew how close that hit to home for her. All those stories of kids getting superpowers, it was real. As if it had jumped straight off the page. As if Sasha had willed it into being. In the back of her mind Sasha wondered how she would have reacted to suddenly growing calls if she hadn’t grown up on comics and superhero movies. It felt like the blueprint to everything now.

Lost in her own thoughts she was a bit startled when the professor’s tone shifted. “No, no I agree, I think. I think all that stuff is important. Storytelling. I mean, I’m not much of a reader but comics and games and movies have been really important to me.” She wished there was a major in that stuff. Or crime fighting. She’d be on the dean’s list if her nightly patrols counted for credits.

“It’s been going okay. I mean, I don’t really do much outside of classes. I’ve been trying to do more but I mostly keep to myself.” It was the same thing she had told her advisor and Professor Campbell, but more and more Sasha felt silly for saying it. It wasn’t like she did nothing, just nothing related to college life. But it wasn’t like she could tell her professors she was protecting White Crest. Or at least trying to.

Morgan noticed Sasha’s interest and perked up at once. “You know, we do cover films in my class,” she said, grinning slyly. “And books. But still. It’s the same kind of thought process as with books, so it might as well be given its time and place. There’s plenty of other courses like that in this department, even a film and media studies minor. You should do what makes you happy, because undergrad coursework doesn’t matter half as much as you think it does. It’s all internships and jobs and connections and recommendations that help you get anywhere. And this place, college, has a lot of flaws and problems, but one of the best ways to make it worth it is leave knowing as much as you can about the things that matter to you most.” But that was about all the pitching she was willing to do on behalf of her class. Besides, being a student at UMWC came second to being a kid in White Crest. Morgan couldn’t help but look at the girl and wonder what this place would do to her. Morgan pushed the thought away, she couldn’t let herself focus on a big, bad future like it was some kind of unstoppable force.

“This might sound silly, coming from a professor who just tried to recruit you to their class, but I hope you do find other things besides school studies. There’s a much bigger world out there, and you should have something else in your life. At least friends and playing video games or going to Al’s at one in the morning or whatever kids your age do now. Life is for doing stuff, you know? Whatever it is you’re thinking about doing or joining, you should go for it!”

“I never really thought about taking a minor. I didn’t know they had one about film.” Honestly, more and more Sasha felt like she hadn’t planned much of anything when it came to school. Or life in general. But she supposed she could change that. If anything this talk had made her actually interested in looking into classes, something she had mostly breezed through doing in the past, simply checking off the boxes of what she needed for her degree. But if the professor was right and it didn’t matter that much... “Maybe I’ll try looking into classes for film and english and stuff like that. They seem fun. At least the stuff you were talking about seems fun.”

Maybe it would make school more interesting, instead of something Sasha went through the motions of to get to her real job. “Real job,” as being a superhero paid. As if she wouldn’t one day need a day job. College was a convenient way to pass the time and something she was told she had to do, but it would be nice to actually care about it, to feel like she was actually doing something.

“I do have hobbies...” Just none she could tell Professor Beck about. “But yeah, I should probably try to do more. I wanted to check out the library. I was supposed to help out with the comic collection there as a volunteer thing. So that’s a start I guess.” It had almost slipped her mind, but that was something she had been genuinely excited for. It was just hard to remember stuff like that during the day when she was normally up all night. Her nightly patrols had turned her days sluggish and uneventful, filled with quick naps between class and maybe some video games alone in her dorm before she put on her costume and went out again. And she loved doing it, of course she loved going out at night to keep White Crest safe. But at the same time...

“Do you ever just get really focused on one thing?” Sasha asked the question before she was thought about it, but decided to keep going, even if it was dumb. “Like, you have something you like or is important and you just focus on that and everything else just kinda blurs into the background?”  Sasha rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. “I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess sometimes I feel like that. But I don’t know if I want to change it.”

“The library is a great start!” Morgan said. “You’re going to learn so much, and probably find people who have similar interests to you when they come to check out materials. But I hope you do other stuff, not for credit, just for you. You’re only going to be young once--” Hopefully.

She couldn’t help but smile at Sasha’s notion, that hyper-focus was something rare or embarrassing. “Oh, all the time. I have some art projects that I do on the side, and I can get so lost in my carving that hours can pass by so easily. Same with baking, or cooking something really involved. It’s almost like you’re connecting to something else, outside of or beyond you. There’s you, the thing you’re doing, and this energy it gives you, right?” Morgan watched the girl’s expression to see if she was getting it right. “Even if it’s just kind of like that, I don’t think you should change it. Whatever that thing is, it sounds to me like the universe is giving you the green light to keep going.”

Sasha nodded, giving a small smile. She was happy that Professor Beck seemed to get it and not think it was weird. Sure, Sasha's focus wasn’t on crafts or cooking, but it was the thought that counted. Her mind lingered on what she said about being given a green light. Really, what was a bigger green light than getting her powers? But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be a reason it was her. She had to be able to do something with her powers, something to really help people. It was comforting to have the professor say she was right, that the universe wanted her to do what she was already doing, but there was a pang of melancholy knowing Sasha couldn’t tell her, or anyone, the truth. How much did advice and validation matter when the person saying it didn’t know the full truth?

She shook the thought from her head. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you a bunch of weird questions when I came to sit in. I think it would be cool to try out one of your classes though if you still have room for students.” Sasha chased away the worry of struggling in a class she wasn’t used to. If worst came to worst she could always drop that class. At least it would be something new, something she might actually end up liking.

Beaming and unawares, Morgan took out a post-it from her bag and scribbled out the class information before handing it to Sasha. “Don’t be embarrassed about questions,” she said. “Questions are how we learn. You’re never going to find anything interesting if you always leave well enough alone.” She stood up, getting the vibe that Sasha had opened up all she felt like so far. “I hope to see a lot more of you this coming semester,” she said. “Hoping even more that you do something just for you, but.” She put a finger to her lips. That’ll just be our secret.

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep asking them.” Well that was one social interaction that didn’t go horribly. Wasn’t great that Sasha considered that a victory for herself but she was going to take the feeling of accomplishment anyways. “And I’ll try to do stuff for myself too.” That was going to take more work than just registering for a class, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst. She couldn’t promise herself she would put in the effort though. Tucking the post-it note into her backpack she smiled and said goodbye to Professor Beck. Maybe a few new classes would be enough to make her college life, and her daily life, seem a bit more exciting and a bit less like time to just get through. But her patrolling White Crest at night was still more important. Professor Beck didn’t have to know that part though.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Okay, here’s a final answer, just for clarification - 

- 

Firstly, please understand that I’m not angry, and I’m not upset. I just tend to speak very matter of factly, I guess? If I seem cold or something when typing this response, it's not a personal attack towards you or some display of aggression, that's just how I word things sometimes, I don't mean for them to be misinterpreted or want you to think I’m like getting mad with you or etc. Me disagreeing does not inherently equal me being mad about something, it merely means that I disagree, which is an emotion neutral action. If someone said 2+2 = 6, I would disagree, and openly so, but that doesn’t mean I’d also be like, crying about it or upset with them or something lol. 

 I actually even stated so at the end of my tags last time - 

 So, I apologize if you interpreted my tone as being mean, but I was simply trying to be firm and direct in how I said things so you understand that it's a very serious matter, and I didn't want to be light about it. 

There was a bit of jokiness/sarcasm/exaggeration as well I suppose, but again, that’s not an inherent indicator of upset, just the way I speak - especially when your question can be seen as rude to begin with (which usually leads people to care less about faking positive emotions or seeming polite to others. If a person is not polite to you, you’re not likely to watch how you communicate as much or attempt to display high politeness back). My default state is a neutral flatness as I have a very shallow emotional range (shout out to schizophrenia spectrum negative symptoms and other various issues lol), any excessive positivity or “perkiness” or something that I display is just an attempt to be polite and communicate with others in a simple and kindly manner (in real life I’m often seen as too stoic, blunt, detached, cold, etc. lmao, so in general communication with strangers I tend to overcompensate to being excessively polite instead) - but that also means I can accidentally drop that sometimes if I’m being “real” or whatever. 

-

Anyway, now that concerns over my tone have hopefully been explained, I’ll address this issue about your previous ask in a numbered list. Please read ALL of this, if you are actually taking this seriously. If you don’t actually read, in detail (no skimming), this entire response, then this is not even a discussion since you’re not willing to genuinely engage in the first place. -  

-

Firstly, here is the original ask, for reference  ----

 As for how your question can be rude: 

(1.) In my initial response (in the tags of your answer), I asserted various things, mostly that the question was rude, and that it’s not appropriate to ask people, for a variety of reasons. I’ll explain those in more length here. 

My main point is that even asking the question in the first place is rude. It doesn’t matter how specifically you word it, it’s not appropriate. Just like any personal issue. At least in my culture, it’s typically thought of as inconsiderate and inappropriate to ask random strangers personal questions. for example, it would be rude to approach a random stranger on the bus that you’ve never even seen before and ask them why the have the haircut they do, who their sexual partners are, if they’ve just had a death in the family, how well their marriage is going, what their gender is, etc. etc. 

-

-

(2.) On top of this personal boundary issue, another concern would be that the nature of the question itself is baseless -- 

Would you ask a cis woman why they're a woman? Or a cis man why he chose to be a man? Would you ask a straight person why they chose to be straight?

Would you find it acceptable and polite if a random stranger approached you on the street and asked you for an explanation as to why you're the gender you are? Imagine that exact scenario happening to you, and if you would find it odd or overstepping boundaries at all.  

I doubt you ask this same gender identity question to everyone in your life, to your parents, friends, the cashier at your grocery store.  Why is it only certain groups that need to explain or justify their identities to you? Only certain groups that you feel the inherent need to question? It's a double standard which further serves to prove the question itself is unnecessary. 

-

-

(3.) Additionally, in case you're genuinely unsure of tone (maybe you have difficulty reading social cues or something, that’s understandable) I will explain - the way in which the question was asked has certain implications. 

The statement “Why are you nonbinary? You seem like a pretty girl to me”, implies that - due to your beliefs about me/how you see me, you find it confusing that I could have a certain identity that you see as not matching your perception of me, or that you see as an invalid label, and are asking for me to justify or explain myself/my identity to you because of that. 

Even if this implied meaning was not intentional, it is what most people will interpret upon reading the question, and would be a commonly held understanding. There are other ways you could have asked the question which would be less condescending, yes, but again, the other points still stand (like that the question in itself is impolite to ask to strangers, etc.)

Again, revisit the imaginary scenario of a stranger approaching you on the street and asking you why you’re the gender you are - would there not be some of this implication present? For example, say you’re a man - would it not feel as if someone were questioning your manhood, or implying you weren’t truly a man, or must not be a man ‘correctly’, or that ‘man’ is not a valid label for how they see you? Why else would they approach you and ask you in confusion for you to justify your identity to them? The implication is that they don’t see you as a valid man, or at least not how they see a man, and thus are having a hard time accepting that someone like YOU could ever be a real man - that it’s hard for them to believe you are what you say you are, because they see you differently.

 -

(3.a)  As an additional sidenote (one which I addressed in the tags replying to you initially), your ask (as well as this more recent one) also made certain assumptions. There are plenty of people who ''look like girls'' or 'look like boys' but aren't as they “seem”, even if you're someone who only believes in a “binary biological sex model” (I’ll include some links at the end about this). It's strange to assume someone's body parts or identity just based off of pictures you see on the internet (which often have specific lighting, angles, or in the case of many people are even edited and etc. I don't do this but it's really common nowadays with phone editing apps and stuff). Just because I appear a certain way to you, in no way implies that I have the physical form and traits you assume I have Consider how you may feel invalidated or uncomfortable if people sent you messages assuming personal things about you that are incorrect or that they have no way to possibly know.

 Your standards and perception are also not universal, various cultures and groups have different ideas about what outward traits would make someone considered a “man” or a “woman”, so making your judgement of someone else’s identity based only on your own (extremely shallow, since it’s only from online pictures) perception of them, is also inherently a bit flawed. 

-

(3.b-ish side tangent) In extension to this, your ideas and how you view me are likely incorrect. Just as it is similarly true that, from afar, any assumptions I make about you would likely be inaccurate as well. We are strangers.

For example, if you really knew me, you would know that I don’t pride myself in costumes and makeup - It’s a fun creative activity for me definitely, but I feel no pride over it, I don’t do it to look good or seem a certain way, and actually I resent it in a way, because often it feels like people mostly only pay attention to blurry pictures of me looking silly in cheap wigs, but don’t give that same level of engagement to the other more important things I do that I personally care about 100x more, like my worldbuilding and other projects lol. Absolutely nothing against the people who like my costumes, I appreciate them of course!!, and I still love doing costumes - BUT, to imply that it’s a primary source of pride in my life or a characteristic that defines me over other things, would be a mischaracterization. 

Anyone who knows me in real life would certainly list a million other stand-out traits to define me, rather than ‘pretty make up woman’ (most people I know in real life would also not describe me as ‘pretty’ or as a ‘woman’, just for reference lol). 

Your one sided perception of me (which I’ll address in the next section) may allow you to have a shallow idea of me as some sweet pretty costume girl or something, but just know that the reality is more like: I haven’t had much time lately to do costumes because I’m working on a game and other art which I see as much more important, I haven’t bathed or brushed my hair in weeks because of mental illness/functioning issues, 99% of the time I’m not ‘’dressed up’’ - I wear the same pajamas and cardigan that I’ve worn for the past 3 years and barely wash to the point that it’s disintegrating and leaves fabric scraps around the house lol, I have a little moustache right now and a unibrow and other “””non-womanly”””” traits (at least by common media western standards, which is what I assume you go by), I’m excessively analytical, detached, and in real life you would probably see me as blunt and cold and cynical (also commonly missing social cues) - as well as being hugely asocial/ a hermit and mostly lacking the ability to form attachments to others (So definitely not  ~pretty and cute and approachable~ ghgg), I have obsessive compulsive disorder and am regularly so anxious that I’m throwing up and have various other issues - I’m also not Fun or Cool or Spontaneous because I’m too busy being rigid and high strung lol (even before the pandemic, I don’t like to leave the house or interact much at all with others, I’d rather be in my little controlled environment where I don’t have overwhelming sensory information and distractions raising my anxiety constantly),, and my favorite activities are literally all just stuff like pacing around my home alone talking to myself in different voices creating gods and fake religions for my fantasy worldbuilding while I eat boiled cabbage and light little pieces of paper on fire over a candle to help me think - not doing makeup and other Pretty Woman Things. 

Which I don’t want to be too harsh or focus on this tangent too much, since obviously as you don’t know me in real life, these are all things you couldn’t possibly be aware of, and it simply comes with the territory of posting publicly online - so I absolutely don’t blame you for perceiving me incorrectly. If “pretty” pictures are all you see, then that may very well be the only impression that you have. I just personally dislike this certain interpretation some people have seemed to have of me (you’re not the first person to think of me as a Pretty Makeup Girl or whatever lol), since it’s so completely opposite from the truth of who I am, I feel the need to explain it like this sometimes. Just accepting the false perception some people have of me without any argument feels disingenuous and like supporting a version of myself that doesn’t exist. 

 So anyway, no issue with you personally, but just trying to set the perception of me straight a little more accurately lol.. now, back on topic -- 

-

-

(4.) Lastly, and here’s the main thing I’d like to stress, there's the issue of personal boundaries. Again, you're a complete stranger to me, I don't know who you are, and you have no idea who I am. Even if you've followed me online for years and read every post I've ever made, you still have no idea who I truly deeply am, only a vague scattering of snapshots over time.  

-

Here are some definitions for Parasocial Relationships: 

“Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars.”

“Parasocial interaction (PSI) refers to a kind of psychological relationship experienced by an audience in their mediated encounters with performers in the mass media, particularly on television.[1] PSI is described as an illusionary experience, such that media audiences interact with personas (e.g., talk show host, celebrities, fictional characters, social media influencers) as if they are engaged in a reciprocal relationship with them. The term was coined by Donald Horton and Richard Wohl in 1956. “

-

This is all anyone can ever have with people they follow online. You can perceive them, but you cannot know them or truly understand them. I think this is very important to remain cognizant of in such a massive social media age, as often times people are fostering one sided concepts that are inaccurate or unhealthy (no so much with just you sending me a simple ask, but in a broader sense, how people act towards celebrities, other bloggers, etc. etc. seems to have little boundaries, and often results in a similar manner with people forgetting to maintain acceptable boundaries with those they follow or know about from afar). 

-

-- This next part is very important, I think it’s a super valuable way of thinking about this sort of stuff, so if you take away nothing else from this, at least remember this next portion -- 

A very good way to think about online boundaries that I heard someone mention in a post once (though I can no longer find the post), is to take whatever you're going to say to someone online, and imagine saying it in person, in real life, to a barista. Before you send an ask or make a comment, think about if it’s something you would really genuinely say face to face to a stranger. 

Would you walk into a random Starbucks and ask the dude at the counter a bunch questions about their gender identity? Or about his personal life in general? You probably recognize that that would be strange and socially inappropriate. It's similarly inappropriate in a case like this. 

Even though you may feel a sense of familiarity with someone online from reading their social media posts, or even speaking to them once or twice through asks and etc. etc., at the end of the day you don’t really know each other much more than you’d know a random stranger. 

Unless someone is inviting personal questions (like by reblogging those ‘ask me anything’ posts or etc.), or has the sort of blog where they are commonly asking people about/discussing their own intimate personal experiences or etc. (mine is not this way), then questions like this are very out of the blue and similar to asking a random person working at a store things like that. It can be seen as rude and inappropriate in general to give those sorts of questions to people who are complete strangers, and typically comes off as crossing personal boundaries. Again, think about a random stranger asking you these questions, and how you may perceive it. 

-

-

In summary: 

1. The question itself is borne from an double standard and isn't very good to ask in the first place. 2. The way you asked the question was worded  with certain implications. 3.  Your ask is also assuming certain things that you don't know are true, which can be uncomfortable for some people. 4. Even were it not for the three other things, it's commonly considered rude in many cultures to ask serious questions about the personal details of complete strangers, even if it's online. It could prove useful to utilize the ‘barista test’ to better determine this in the future. 

-

-

Final Thoughts: 

Anyway, I wasn't mad and I have no beef with you or whatever lol. Hopefully you can understand what I mean. I've also explained myself as well as I think I can though, so I don't feel like discussing it any more and won't respond to further asks about this. I have a lot of things going on in my life right now (as I'm sure everyone does given the pandemic and everything, you probably do too, so hopefully you can empathize with that), so I’d like to limit my time spent online, especially discussing topics I already don’t like to discuss or am not open to accepting questions about (I just want to talk about cats and elves and stuff lol). 

 If you still can't at least kind of get where I'm coming from then it's perfectly fine to just agree to disagree. If aspects of myself upset you or cause you discomfort, then there's no harm in just unfollowing me or something! Or if you don't even follow me, I would encourage you to block me so my posts no longer come across your dash (or block/unfollow me on whatever other social media you may be seeing my posts on ,etc)., etc. That way you don't have to see content or hear from someone who makes you uncomfortable that way, and there also won't be any need for this to come up in the future. Part of using the internet in a healthy and productive manner is to know when to disengage with certain content and just cut it off/unfollow/block people/etc. if it’s causing you unnecessary conflict or distress, or makes you uncomfortable or etc. to look at. Thank you for the question! Hopefully this response explained things a little better. 

-

-

Links and Further Info: 

On the off chance that you were genuinely curious, here are some resources where you can learn more about people of different gender identities and also hear them explain their experiences, etc.  Since these people are actually openly discussing their experiences/making educational content and are obviously actually open to talking about it,  that would be a better place to field any further questions or learn about things. :3

Here’s some reading - 

Understanding Nonbinary People (link)

Gender Variance Around the World (link)

12 Questions About Nonbinary Gender Answered (link)

About the Sex Binary (link)

Ask LGBT subreddit (link)

one ‘ask a nonbinary person’ blog i found (I don’t know if they’re still active, it’s one of the first ones that came up for me lol, but I guess could be helpful) (link)

-

And here’s some videos with people talking about their experience, or being educational - 

(NOTE: I just did a quick google search and did not deeply research these people and their entire histories and etc., so I can’t say I stand by literally everything they say or know what type of people they are, but it’s just a general place to start~!)

A video examining the idea of gender in general and how it even exists and nonbinary people (definitely interesting to watch) (link)

video about nonbinary gender/explanations (probably at least watch this one too) (link)

What is a nonbinary gender? (shorter general info) (link)

answering all your nonbinary questions q&a (link)

Video about binary sex/gender/etc. (link)

5 nonbinary people explain what nonbinary means to them (link)

another video about similar stuff (link)

-

[whittakerjodie]

Can I Cut In? ( 13th Doctor X Reader )

prompt: “Heyo! I hope you're having a good day! I was wondering if I could request a jealous thirteen? Maybe an alien flirting with her while the fam is on a mission. Thanks!” Requested by @oster-hagen​

A/N: A Lot of these types of requests tend to make the flirt-er a jerk/predator figure, so I figured I'd give us a break and give us a nice, swell flirt-er that we all deserve. Much love, thanks for the request!!! this is probably my favorite thing I’ve written thus far

Words: 2k :O

Warings: none. Reader isn’t gendered but is said to be wearing a dress. 

   Your muscles ached in protest as you tried to get the elaborate outfit on. Usually, you liked dressing up in whatever the TARDIS wardrobe could conjure up for you, but your most recent adventure left you more than worn out. Despite your current urge to throw yourself onto the nearest soft surface and sleep for however long your body would allow, you had places to be. A party was being thrown by the village you and the fam had saved as a way to thank all of you. It'd be rude not to attend. 

   Your eyes scanned your body in the mirror. You hadn't seen any materials or patterns similar to the ones you currently wore, so you gave yourself a long minute to admire them. The door to the wardrobe opened and you turned to see the Doctor standing there, taking in your appearance. You felt yourself shrink under her gaze, even if it was soft and appreciative. 

"Um... Your turn?" You asked, lifting your arms to show off more of the fabric.  

"Not quite" The Doctor replied, hurriedly turning to a different section of the room. "Suits are more to my liking." 

   You watched her busy herself with trying to find a suitable outfit, throwing clothes across the room left and right. You caught some in your hands but let others fall to the floor, unsure of if you should wait for her or not. You blushed at the thought of watching her get dressed and opted to let her have her privacy. You didn't know what to think of the eyes that you felt on your back as you walked out. 

"Wow... just.. Wow" Nora, one of the villagers that had been a big help to you and the fam, gawked at you. "I've always had a bias for my village’s fabrics but seeing them on someone such as yourself..." 

You felt the blood rush to your face and avoided the fam's quizzical looks. You and Nora had been paired together for this adventure, and she'd been nothing but nice (borderline flirtatious) all day. It was fun, and it felt nice to be appreciated that way. Nora held out her hand and you stared at it, not wanting to be rude. You placed your hand in hers and she smiled, leading you forward. 

"Is anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?" Yaz asked, watching the two of you walk off towards the party. 

"I really don't think the Doctors going to like this," Ryan said. 

+++

   You sipped from the drink Nora had gotten for you. The warmth of it contrasted with the cool night air, making you shiver. 

"Are you cold?" She asked from beside you. She sat close to you, on a bench you'd found near a nice flower bed. You nodded and she unwrapped her shawl, draping it over your shaking shoulders. You sighed happily at the shield from the cold, thanking her. 

   Some ways away, on the trail you'd taken to get to the flowers, the Doctor was making her way towards the party. She watched Nora carefully give you her shawl, leaving her arm to rest over your shoulders. She stopped mid-step, feeling jealousy well up in the pit of her stomach. She'd noticed you and her joking around earlier, but she'd assumed it was more of a Jack Harkness situation, not something serious. She could hear footfall behind her and turned to see the fam making their way down the same trail. 

“Headed to the party, doc?” Graham asked. She gave a curt nod and turned sharply, stomping away. Ryan hit Graham on the shoulder and pointed towards you and Nora. You laughed loudly; every five seconds Nora seemed to have a new joke to tell you. It was a miracle that you were able to understand them at all, considering the entirely different lives you lead. 

   You didn’t know how long it’d been since you had a conversation like this. Most of your time was spent with the Fam running away from monsters or having short catch-up conversations that ended as quickly as they began. It was comforting to sit down and truly converse with someone. There was a song change in the distance, and Nora smiled brightly, pulling you onto your feet. 

“Come,” She said eagerly. “I want to get at least one dance in before you go.” 

+++++

   The party was at its height by the time the two of you arrived. Nora had repeatedly stopped along the way to pick a flower alongside the road. She’d gathered quite the collection, and they all currently rested somewhere in your hair. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your fellow travelers. At a table overflowing with food, you could spot what you believed to be the Doctors blonde bob. You examined her suit; it was a three-piece but styled with a long jacket similar to the one she always wore. Its surface was covered in the same geometric pattern that everyone else wore, but it seemed to shine differently on her. 

“So.. about that dance?” Nora held out both of her hands as an invitation. You glanced at the Doctor again for just a moment before accepting her offer and letting her lead you onto the dance floor. 

“I don’t know how to do the dances they're doing,” You confessed, talking about her peers. They were all dancing beside you in a way similar to slow dance, but their steps and sways matched to the beat differently. 

“Then don’t do them. Show me how you dance on your planet” You blushed at her low tone and the idea of setting your hands on her waist. A pretty girl was a pretty girl, and dancing with a pretty girl was always a nervous (albeit wonderful) affair. You tried your best to push past your nervousness and showed her the basics. She put her hands on your waist and let you take the lead. 

   The Doctor turned as soon as she felt your eyes leave her and watched the two of you sway. She fought the urge to spring forward and take Nora's place, leading you in the dance instead. At least you looked like you were having fun, she thought. Or maybe that made it worse. She scowled and tried to focus on something else, each time failing and remaining glued to the two of you. 

   She’d thought she’d been making progress in showing more affection towards you. She’d given you an intricately beaded bracelet from a star system that reminded her of you. She’d given multiple compliments ranging from your laugh and hair to anything and everything about you. Maybe she’d messed up and made you uncomfortable? But the Doctor failed to identify anything that she could’ve done wrong. She also couldn’t wrap her head around what made Nora so much better than her. 

   You’d managed to match your swaying to the beat, despite its otherworldly origin. You were smiling at each other in a way that, in any other circumstances, would be heartwarming. But the Doctor was getting more and more restless by the moment, fidgeting where she stood. As the song continued the jealous fire within her swelled and swelled until she could feel it burning through any control she had. 

   Suddenly, she swiftly moved forward, reaching you in record time. The two of you jumped at the sudden intrusion, your hands falling from Nora’s shoulders. 

“Doctor?” 

She nervously shifted, as all the planned words and actions had suddenly scrambled out of her mind. 

“Uh..” She turned to Nora. “Nora! You’re brilliant, good job today. But I really, really need to cut in. Could I? Cut in, I mean” 

   You felt your cheeks heat up and disappointment briefly passed across Nora's features. She glanced between the two of you and you moved to apologize but a light flickered behind her eyes, ignited by a sudden understanding. She nodded and stepped aside, quickly swept up by another party-goer. You wiped your sweaty palms against your dress hoping the Doctor wouldn’t notice just how nervous you were.

“I’m guessing you know how to slow dance the way we do?” You asked, voice cracking a little. The Doctor nodded and placed her hands on your waist. You jumped slightly at the warmth, your hands landing haphazardly on her shoulders. Slowly you two started to sway, getting back into the groove of the song. 

“I never got to tell you how much I love the dress.” The Doctor said gently.

‘And I never got to tell you how much I loved the suit” She seemed to relax more, relieved. You giggled. 

“Doctor, why did you cut in like that?” 

She tensed again, looking off to the side sheepishly. You trembled on the edge of making what you believed to be a bold assumption. 

“Was it Nora?” As you said the other alien's name, your eyes locked. Her grip tightened on your waist a little. “Doctor, it's okay if it was.” 

“It was” She admitted quietly. “Do you like her?” 

   You took in her uneasy expression. You didn’t need to consider the question much; Nora was wonderful and treated you kindly, but she wasn’t the Doctor. You’d likely never see her again after the TARDIS flew off to your next adventure. The Doctor was always with you, giving you gifts and saying wonderful things that made you hope for something more. You leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, feeling the skin warm under your touch. When you leaned back she was red, eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Not as much as you, Doctor. Don’t worry about other people.” You wanted to lean in and kiss her on the lips this time, but you felt too many eyes on you. The song ended and you let yourself fall out of the Doctors warm embrace. You squeezed her shoulder and pushed past the party-goers, buzzing back to the TARDIS. 

+++++

   The villagers all said their goodbyes before the five of you could leave. Just when you thought you’d gotten through every last person, Nora approached. 

“I just thought I’d say goodbye as well,” She said. She looked into the TARDIS, smiling sadly. “I wanted to let you know… I’m very happy that someone like you has found someone who cares for you as much as the Doctor does.” 

You felt your chest swell with different emotions as she took your hand in hers.  

“Hang on to her, traveler, and goodbye” 

   You watched her leave, happy that she wasn’t hurt by what had happened. Her words lingered in your mind and you glanced at the Doctor. She was hunched over the console, poking away at various buttons. You were beyond happy to have her. Someone who truly loved you. She met your gaze. 

“Coming?” 

You stepped forward, linking your hand in hers as she sent the TARDIS soaring back into the universe.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (10)

Chapter 10: Unread Pages of an Open Book | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms​ @berenilion​ @stellar-trinity​ @queen-destenie​ @sweeetteaa​ @calgasm​ @justtinfoley​ @peterwandaparker​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @calsponchoemporium ​ @cal-jestis ​ @superwarsofthrones ​

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

10 of ?

Jidné checks her homing beacon, the blue light’s brightness weakened and the beating slowed down, signaling the Mantis’s departure from Ombari. She’s climbed up to the mesas of the badlands, situating herself at a vantage point, a silhouette of a ship flying away from the planet caught the corner of her eye.

“May the Force be with you,” she uttered, supposedly for Cal, but the humid wind carried her words into its nothingness.

Cal surely made true to his promise. In a newfound sense of adrenaline and determination, he skimmed through the temple in Ilum, easily cutting through the enemies lurking there until he could find a second kyber crystal for the waterproofing modification. Despite his child-like excitement, he kept in mind to be patient for the call of the kyber.

“Beee, chirp trill!” BD-1 initiated as Cal had found his way into another part of the cave that he’d not been in last time.

“Jidné? What do I think of her?”

The little droid perched on the boy’s shoulder sang a string of whistles and beeps, conveying his own thoughts on the girl—Cal roughly translated it to somewhere along the lines of “I really like her! Kind of her to help us out!”

“Yeah, buddy, I like her too,” the redheaded Jedi concurred, as he punched a wall of ice with his climbing claws.

By the time Cal had arrived to Ombari, it was already afternoon and the sun blazed its strongest at that hour—compared to the morning blizzard that welcomed him back in Ilum. Jidné was alerted of his arrival when the homing beacon returned to its usual constant state—the light grew bright and the rhythmic beeping became livelier again.

“Cal,” Jidné uttered while staring at the blue glowing circle sitting on the palm of her hand.

Meanwhile, back in the Mantis, Cere—as well as the rest of the crew—had been noticing Cal’s new eagerness of things. In a Jedi’s perspective, she wasn’t surprised to learn that Cal wanted to have his saber modified into a waterproof design, though it intrigued her on where he was getting such ideas. The better question being: who gave him these ideas?

Cere watched the boy frisk his entire person to see if he still had his handy tools on him, Cal barely paid attention or responded to anything the older woman has to say—not out of rudeness, but simply out of haste.

“Cal, a word, please?”

That request seemed to have paused Cal from checking himself for the third time in a row.

“Something up?”

“It looks like Ombari has a lot to offer you,”

Cal scoffed, slightly puzzled, “Heh. Erm… I guess? I mean, it’s a quaint town—nice locals, good food, Greez might like the marketplace for a change.”

Cere gave up with the subtexts and went straight to her point.

“You seem like you found someone interesting,” she implied.

“Yeah, I suppose I did,”

The woman bobbed her head to the side, prompting Cal to elaborate on his new acquaintance. Cal told Cere—along with Greez and Merrin—about Jidné. He introduced her to them verbally as a fellow Jedi, he narrated their first meeting in the jungle when he helped her out with the pack of Bashiji cats, followed by the hot pursuit of the bounty hunters—he added her Force ability as well, which piqued Cere’s interest in the same fashion as Cordova would—and their skirmish with another pair of Haxion Brood bounty hunters earlier this morning.

When asked on who her mentor was, Cal couldn’t answer. Instead, he reasoned that he hasn’t exactly brought up that topic yet as it might make Jidné uncomfortable.

“Well, you’ll get to meet her soon… I hope,”

However, Cere’s next query would pause him from what he’s doing and stop him in his tracks.

“Do you trust her?”

There was a split second’s worth of silence from Cal’s end. His eyes shifted from Cere to the floor, panning the interior of the Mantis for the right words.

“Of course, I do,”

“Off to meet her, I see?”

“Yeah, she promised to help me modify this,” he waved his saber hilt in his hand as he headed out.

Cere watched the redheaded boy leave the ship and disappear into the forest. Merrin approached and stood by the woman’s side, watching the now-empty view of the forest where they’re landed in.

“Do you think that girl can sense his… fondness of her?”

The former Jedi chuckled with her arms crossed, “If there’s one thing Cal is bad at: it’s hiding his emotions and being so… direct. Alright, now make that two things.”

“I strongly agree,” the Nightsister parroted Cere’s posture, now both ladies watch the silhouette of the smitten boy shrink into the distance.

Cal made his way to the badlands, even if he and Jidné didn’t exactly agree where they’d meet once he comes back, he simply followed his instincts—which were strongly sure that she’d be around there. He pulled up the hood of his beige poncho, protecting himself as he trekked under the blaze of high noon.

The boy and his droid stood underneath a withering tree whose branches were thick enough to cast a shadow to shield them from the heat. BD-1 gave Cal a lead by scanning a sampling of the plant Jidné traded to the vendor.

“Chirp, trill. Bee!”

“Puffreeds,” Cal translates. “This is what Jidné had in her hands earlier.”

Following the river had brought him to the other side of the lake—away from the island where he and Jidné fought off the Haxion Brood hunters—and searched for puffreeds.

From Cal’s back, Jidné appears out of nowhere. She quietly comes into Cal’s vicinity and watched him survey the area as if searching for someone. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he spun around a bit too strongly that he lost his left foot’s balance when he faced Jidné, the little blunder drew out a giggle from the girl.

“Hello there,” she greeted casually.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Cal straightened himself up and tugged the hem of his shirt that crumpled underneath his armor in front of the girl.

“Did you now?” cooed an amused Jidné.

“Of course,” he cleared his throat. “I got the kyber crystal. I didn’t wanna make you wait.”

“I’ve told you that I don’t mind waiting. But,” she sighed, then flopped her arms to her sides. “I kept my promise: I waited.”

A smile curled along Cal’s lips, he fished out the new kyber crystal from his pocket as he approached Jidné; he cupped her hands and let her cradle the kyber in the palm of her hand. It fits perfectly at the center of her palm, she slightly angled her hand to let it roll up and down.

“Just the perfect size. You ready to fix this in?” she beamed as she continued to study the clear, flawless crystal.

“I was hoping that you don’t mind if we do it in our ship,” Cal gazed at her fondly, almost as if he’s pleading her to come with this time.

Jidné found the allure of Cal’s eyes, only to realize that he was standing a little bit too close; she bit her lip, her genuine smile was quickly replaced with an anxious one as she contemplated on her response.

“Sure, why not?”

Why did I say that!? She scolded herself in her mind.

“Great! Come on!”

Cal snatched her hand, she had returned the tiny crystal to him before letting him drag her towards the direction of the Mantis. They jogged across the badlands, they kept running even though they’re both out of breath. With her free hand, Jidné concealed her homing beacon into the back of her belt—the beeping pace become more rapid, she hoped that it wasn’t loud enough to reach Cal’s earshot.

The silver fin that she first spotted only through her binoculars grew in size as they got closer. The trees that blocked her view once now revealed it before her behind their wide trunks. The exit ramp unfurled when its motion sensors picked up Cal’s presence and he invited her into the ship. Cal found the three gathered around the dining table.

“Jidné, this is everyone—Cere, Merrin, and Greez! Everyone, this is Jidné,”

During his introduction, the three of them moved away from the table and gravitated towards the girl—who shyly raised her hand and weakly waved at them.

Her voice was almost a whisper, “Hi.”

Greez pointed at the girl, “What’s that? That’s a probe droid behind her! You brought an Imp?!”

Jidné—and ID-3—were startled by the Lateron’s exclamation that she didn’t act fast enough to explain.

“That is ID-3, he’s reprogrammed and he’s with her,” Cal explained.

“Ugh!” Greez clutched his chest with his two right hands. “For a second there, I thought you blatantly brought the enemy to us!”

“Don’t worry, I trained ID-3 not to alert the Imperials until I say so,” Jidné joked. “Don’t you, ID-3?”

The hovering droid beeped, playing along with his owner, of course. When the girl and her droid saw the Lateron’s next reaction, she quickly followed up that she was kidding—reassuring the gray creature that ID-3 is completely out of Imperial commission, thus sparing him from a cardiac arrest.

Cere’s eyes examined the girl from head to toe, she smirked in a teasing manner as she rolled her eyes to the side—to Cal.

“So, you must be the girl that Cal keeps talking about,” the older woman blurted.

Jidné turned her head to Cal for confirmation, his beaming grin subsequently reduced into just a display of his clenched teeth. His initial reaction warranted a single, small chuckle from Jidné, not even Merrin covering her mouth with her hand spared her from releasing a nasal chuckle.

“Right, well, if you’ll excuse us: we have some modifications to do,” Cal stood behind Jidné, clasped his hands over her shoulders, and then shepherded her into the engine room until Cere stopped them in their tracks.

“What modifications?”

“Waterproofing a lightsaber,” Jidné directly answered on both of their behalf.

Cere’s smile melted as well, that sentence was enough a stimuli to bring memories of her prime into mind.

The mood went from jolly to somber. The three of them were reminded of that day; however, Cere was particularly interested with the girl’s knowledge of the lightsaber modification.

“W-Where…? How did you—?”

“My master,” Jidné politely cuts in her reply. “She taught me how. Though, I know she learned it from another Jedi—at least, through his Holocron.”

“Master Fisto,” the woman uttered out of memory’s impulse, her head hung low and scanned the floor. Shortly after, she faced the girl again. “Who was your master?”

Jidné took a deep breath, it’s been a while since she uttered her late master’s name. She puffed out her chest, it was her way of honoring her master, even at the mere mention of her name.

“Her name is Nomara Anesh,” her expression stiffened at the sight of Cere gasping as a reaction. “Do you know her?”

“Yes,” Cere breathed. “She was a Seeker, too. Like me.”

A silence loomed around the ship that only the hum of the air through the ventilation shafts spoke.

“I’m sorry,” there was a heaviness in Cere’s delivery of that very small phrase, though those words carried a great burden for everyone who’s experienced what they have experienced.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. None of us kind of knew what was coming,” Jidné somberly replied.

“Then perhaps that was our fault,”

“Perhaps…”

Cal spared Jidné from further gloom, he kept his hands on her shoulders and gently escorted her into the engine room until he’s shown her the workbench.

“Jidné, are you alright?”

She sniffled, “Yeah, I’m okay. They seem nice.”

“They like you alright,”

The two youngsters traded glances and awkward chuckles, which seemed to be a constant in their interactions—as well as the bashful smiles that they miserably fail to hide from one another just by looking the other way. Jidné began her instruction; she went out of her way to open the hilt of her saber until Cal is shown of the cross-section to see what goes where.

“Now since you got a dual saber, we’re gonna have to halve the crystal,”

“So that’s why you said it was the perfect size,”

Using the Force, Cal carefully meditates on the crystal until it neatly split into half; afterwards, Jidné coached him on the rearrangement of the parts to give way for the second crystal to make the modification work. To lighten up the mood, Cal bantered with Jidné as they worked, bringing up topics and questions initially revolving around the modification; the Jedi girl switched between replies, her own questions, and actual instructions.

“Did you go with the other kids who were about to have their Gathering?”

She shakes her head, “Not really. My master and I flew to Ilum, but I went through the caves by myself. Did you knew about this back then?”

“I’ve heard from the masters, I even asked my master if I could modify mine,”

“Did he allow you?”

“Yeah, he once promised me that…”

Jidné paused from tinkering, hinting at Cal who trailed off in his words and watched his expression soften, apparently reminiscing that exact scenario in his head.

“He promised that once we were done with a campaign we’re in, he’d help me with my saber,” he scoffed, Jidné sensed contempt or perhaps regret. “It never happened.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay, Jidné,”

“Good to know,” she blinked and focused her attention back to his opened lightsaber. “Um… see that space below the energy channels? That’s where we’re gonna put the secondary crystal’s chamber.”

Cal grunted, “The copper wires bounce off even if I press them.”

“Here,” Jidné pressed down the ends of the wires with her fingernails. She managed to crack a joke. “Don’t try to shock my fingers with your soldering gun now!”

The boy chuckled, and then winked.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

All of a sudden, the trauma and the memories seem lighter to talk about—like a badly needed heart-to-heart with someone who truly understands.

It took them less than a few hours to finish. Never have they ever been this close with each other—physically speaking. Their fingers brushed together when one helped the other with a certain part, their foreheads literally touched whenever Jidné would point at a tiny portion of the saber and Cal had to lean closer. Keeping their eyes on the saber distracted one from catching a glimpse of the other.

When Cal ignited his saber for testing, it was nothing special, the true quality check lies literally in the waters. Jidné had her arms crossed while leaning against the bannister of the engine hatch as she watched Cal study his saber even though the changes were internal, she nodded her head sideways, pointing at the door.

“Shall we mosey on over to test it?”

“Let’s,”

Jidné excused herself and headed out first, as she got out of Cal’s room, she took a breather and massaged her cheeks, she felt the warmth on her face and simply brushed it off as the heat that the engine radiated. From the dining table, she wandered to the lounge after the galley, it was a scene of leftover leisure: the hallikset rested on the middle corner of the sofa and a small potted plant sat on the center of the table. But something more interesting than a guitar and a plant caught the corner of her pretty eye…

A small pile of green, crystalline shards scattered on the floor, sitting at the foot of the table.

Jidné’s head panned discreetly but briskly around the ship, she knelt down and picked up the biggest shard she could find. She brought it closer to her face for examination, the texture was familiar but she only had a foundationless assumption.

Her shoulders jumped when she heard Cal call her name and his footsteps approach. She tucked the shard into her jacket’s inner pocket before he could appear out of his bedroom.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, and you?” Jidné shifted back to her calm demeanor.

“Come on then,”

Jidné felt her lungs constrict while she followed Cal in the lead. They were so indulged with fixing up his saber that they didn’t realize they’d reached dusk. The girl was immensely fascinated at how the painted sky gleamed in front of the setting sun; she kept her head up as they hiked through the forest, staring at the colored clouds as they go along.

“Jidné, over here,” Cal beckoned.

Both of them found a water hole that ended the line of the stream, the pair knelt by the bank and Cal unclipped his saber from his belt.

“Go on,”

Cal hesitated to dip the hilt into the water. He coaxed himself with deep breaths and pivoted his elbow so the emitter faces downwards. The saber in his hand sank into the water until his forearm was submerged. His thumb pressed the switch and the blade hissed out; bubbles foamed and rose to the surface when the rod of light flashed underwater—both youngsters had their jaws dropped open, initially startled at the bubbles, and then they retained their stiff postures until it occurred to them that it worked. Their eyes met and exhaled laughs blew out of their rounded mouths.

The boy hoisted his saber—blade still ignited—out of the water; he gave it a slow, gentle swing and it was functioning as it normally would. Their modification was a success!

“It worked…” Jidné uttered.

“It worked!!” Cal parroted, only louder and more celebratory in tone.

A bottle full of laughter was released from their bellies, but Cal’s was louder.

“We did it!!” the boy exclaimed in a child-like radiance, taking her hands into his and giving it a tight squeeze.

He had his eyes stuck to hers, looking into the earthy brown irises where the sunset’s light reflected. He absentmindedly smiled, her small hands still caged within his gentle grasp. When Cal snapped back to reality, he pulled his hands away from hers slowly and cleared his throat—once again failing to recompose himself after acting like a child in front of Jidné, as a matter of fact, she was endeared whenever he does that.

“I seriously could not thank you enough,”

“It’s nothing, Cal, really,”

A pause. Cal took the time to study Jidné’s features better; he could feel himself closing in, but not of his own volition, it seemed like his body was controlling him instead of the other way around. Only an inch stood between his lips and Jidné’s, the girl could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop. The deed was hindered by a hand on Cal’s chest.

Jidné bit her lip and spoke in a hush, “I should go. It’s getting late.”

She could feel Cal’s chest pull away from her fingertips.

“Right…” he murmured. The distance between them grew.

“So, I’ll see you around—like always?”

She flashed a coy smile, “You always seem to have a way of finding me.”

“Or you finding me,”

Jidné chuckled as she stood up, dusting the soil and grass that stuck to her clothes.

“Good night, Cal.”

“Good night, Jidné.”

What was I thinking!? Jidné screamed in her mind as she sprinted through the badlands on the way back to the Scarab.

You are such an idiot, Jidné Sheedra!! IDIOT!!

Even if she scolded herself as harshly as the biting cold that blanketed the desert in the evening, she found herself in wheezing giggles—confusing her lungs between catching air to breathe or to laugh—her speed fluctuated as she brought her hand to her lips and regained speed when she put it back down.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hell of an idiot!!” she screamed gleefully in the expanse of the empty desert.

The animals, the plants, and the nocturnal birds circling the evening sky bear witness to Jidné’s proclamation.