#I often have those realizations and thoughts when I read some ff

[moontheoretist]

Maybe he was a pessimist, though, because everything that Strange had told him about Mordo left Tony with the impression of someone nigh unshakeable in his beliefs. It could be an admirable trait. It could also be a fatal flaw. ~ Fused at the Soul by airas_story

I just realised that Tony's and Stephen's stories are not only parralel in the themes they follow, but also in character roles that they assigned.

Wong is Stephen's Rhodey, while Mordo is Stephen's Steve. The only difference is that Mordo is portrayed explicidly as the one in the wrong when it comes to his zealous idea that his beliefs are the only right ones, while Steve Rogers is constantly pushed by the narrative as the one in the right during Civil War, even when most of the scenes in that movie scream at the audience that he is definitely not in the right.

I just found it funny that I never noticed this before. MCU loves to use the same roles all the time after all, and shuffling the characters that they assign them to. (If you ever felt that some of the MCU characters change like a flag on the wind changing directions then this is a sign their role was re-assigned - sadly they don't always fit their storyarc).

Changing roles by itself is not the bad thing. It's only a bad thing if it's jarringly visible due to it not actually going along with their storyarc in order to enforce a new type of dynamic between the characters. I can count on the fingers of one hand the characters that were allowed to stay consistent with their own storyarc. There are not many of those.

Anyway, it's funny that Mordo and Steve are both single-minded.

And sadly in both cases as of now it's a fatal flaw.

[ingravinoveritas]

Oh FFS 🤦🏼‍♀️ did you see AL’s tweet? A 1:1 copy of Georgia’s haha OMG such couple goals post/story, again.

And why the heck would they of all people no want to see their own partners celebrated and encouraged? You know, those partners who ensure the nice cozy life they lead and who by their profession are dependent on the public and industry’s continued positive acknowledgment… Not that mutual support shouldn’t be present in any relationship, mind.

I'm in the middle of answering a few other Asks/writing a detailed post about some of Georgia's recent posts this week, so I will save a lot of my thoughts for there, but...yes. Yes, I did see AL's newest tweet, and I am amazed at her blatantly copying Georgia. Again...

I think the thing for me--other than the exact copying, which is just painful at this point--is that I would have zero issue with either one of these posts if it felt like there was even a smidge of affection behind them. If there is a joke here and that's how these posts are meant, they're somehow not reading that way at all. It also seems like both AL and Georgia think a joke and an insult are the same thing (and I realize that in British culture/sensibility that is often the case), but again, what makes it distinguishable is that underlying feeling of affection that is seemingly absent from these posts.

At what point does "Don't encourage him" actually start to mean, "I don't encourage him" or "I don't support him"? A person in a relationship can start to feel over time that their partner doesn't support or encourage them through their actions, even if the partner doesn't ever say those exact words out loud. And this would be no less egregious or worth calling out if it was Michael and David doing it to AL and Georgia, but it noticeably seems to keep being directed from one side to the other.

That is the other piece of this as well, that both of these posts are not one-off occurrences, but part of a larger pattern of comments that have been going on for years (which I've written about previously on my blog) and seem to particularly occur in response to David or Michael receiving any kind of praise or accolades in the press. The difference now versus in the past is that I've started to see some pushback in response to both. There are many comments on AL's tweet from folks saying that Michael deserves encouragement, and shouldn't it give one pause to consider that such a sentiment is so opposite to what his own partner is saying? That the one person who should be his number one supporter consistently reacts in the least supportive way possible?

And I agree with you as well about mutual support being important, which again is what makes all of this seem so unbalanced. David has frequently been supportive of Georgia, but with Michael and AL, neither one honestly seems that supportive of the other. For me it's also that Michael is so consistently and effusively supportive of David that it becomes even more noticeable when he doesn't do that with someone else. All Anna's tweet today did is draw even more attention to that and to the (less than positive) similarities between her and Georgia, and I imagine that is not at all what she was hoping for.

Those are my thoughts, at least. I know plenty of people will continue to see Michael/AL and David/Georgia as #couplegoals--and if that is how people feel, they are welcome to it--but for me, a relationship where the frequent centerpiece is putting down your partner on social media doesn't seem like one I'd want to be in. Glad to hear from others with your perspectives as well...

[larvasmoon]

Writing Interview Tag Game

Thank you so much for tagging me @cinnamontails-ff and @davenswitcher ❤️ I loved reading your interviews so much, it was so interesting to learn more about your writing process and how you came to be the writers that you are !

When did you start writing ?

Probably when I was little, I still have a few notebooks in which I used to draw and imagine stories with unicorns, female knights and mermaid. I also have some fond memories of me and cousins writing plays that we would act in front of our parents ! I like to reread those from time to time, it's always hilarious. My love for books blossomed at the same time as my passion for writing did but it's when I was a teenager that I realized that I wanted to be a writer. I studied French and English literature in college and throughout those years I continued to write consistently. I never really shared any of my writings until last year though and it's been such a wonderful experience !

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love thrillers and crime fictions but I find them difficult to write, maybe because it doesn't quite fit my writing style. I also love to read history books or biographies at night before sleeping, they just tickle my brain the right way.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't really want to emulate a writer specifically but I definitely want my stories to have a gothic feel to them, the gloominess of a novel from one of the Brontë sisters for instance. I strive to have my own style though, I try to have a distinctive voice but I probably still have some way to go before finding a style that is truly mine. Writing is about reinventing yourself and having the freedom to do so, after all.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I'm a chronic insomniac so I often writing in my bed with my computer on my lap at ungodly hours of the night. I also always feel much more inspired after midnight, which is terrible for my sleeping schedule. I sometimes get so caught up in the chapter I'm writing that when I look up, the sun is already rising. I do write on my desk during the day though but I must say it does not happen very often, except during the weekends and during the holidays.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I love going out into the nature to find ideas or gather my thoughts. I live close to the sea and my favorite thing is sitting on the sand or on a cliff with a little notebook beside me. Most of the plot of my stories have been inspired by the sea and the waves so she might as well be my muse -

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I often find myself writing characters who struggle with issues like abuse, trauma and mental health. They spend most of the plot fighting to regain so kind of agency in their lives and trying to exorcise their own demons. I'm not necessarily surprised by the fact that those themes are ever-present in my stories since those are topics that matter a lot to me in my day to day life. I'm often surprised by the way I end up including them in my stories though. Writing has helped me to process some personal things or see them in a different light more than once, lending your voice to a character sometimes helps you to put words on things you simply weren't able to express before.

What is your reason for writing?

Writing helps make to make sense of the world and of how absurd life can be. I like how it allows me to see the bigger picture ! It also pushes me to romanticize my daily life, try and find a bit of magic in the world that surrounds me or observe nature and the people around me. I think I've also, even as a child, always wanted to communicate with people through my writing. I was a very shy little girl and a very reserved teenager and all the things I couldn't bring myself to say, I just wrote down and turned into a story.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any type of comment really, I'm just always so emotional when I realize that people do read my stories and take some time to tell me that it made them feel something. It would mean the world to me if one of my fics became someone's comfort story though or echoed to some of their life experience ! I'm extremely slow to answer comments lately but I see all of them and they mean the world to me ❤️ I will answer to each of them once things are a little less hectic, I promise !

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

As someone who is very passionate about her stories, I suppose. As I said, I'm very shy and quiet in real life and it's not always easy for me to find the right words, so I hope my stories have an authentic feel to them.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Probably the descriptions, setting a mood, I do try to get better at dialogues because it's what is the hardest for me.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It really depends of the day and of how I feel but I try not to be too hard on myself. It's full of ups and downs to be honest. One day I'll hate what I wrote and want to throw it all away but the next day I'll reread it and find that it's not that bad. Writing is a journey and I find comfort in the fact that I keep learning as I go !

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's a mix of both for sure ! I do write for myself when I bring those ideas to life or discuss topics that are very close to my heart, but I also keep in mind that it has to be appealing to my readers. I think about all the ways I could make it more interesting for them and it's an important part of every writing process !

Tagging @thedreamlessnights and @vyjuarts ❤️

[dropthedemiurge]

Why Kawi is so Ace-coded (and anxious)[Cinematography wise]

I decided in order to keep discussing and analyzing Be My Favorite EP10 with @pinkkop and @rocketturtle4 posts on board, I want to point out more details and signs. Disclaimer: I may not know the depth of sexually-undesiring allo people but I know my visual storytelling tools when I see some.

It seems like there are two camps of viewers who view Kawi as ace vs who view Kawi as just hesitant to changes/intimacy. As a proud and hopeful member of the first camp, I want to show why do I think Kawi always felt somewhat ace-apec, but especially it kicked the ace people right in the heart in Episode 10. We talked about all the too intentional lines (ace-core from Kawi and ace-phobic from Max & Pisaeng) so I'm not pausing for them much.

So, Kawi has gone 30 years without relationship or sleeping with someone, or even trying. As @pinkkop said, how come he realizes he's queer only now? We have Max and Pisaeng who know they're gay for years, and a lot of queer people find their heart doesn't align with society norms in youth. But ace people often don't realize they are queer until 20+ or even 30+.

Kawi has lived with his romantic crush on Pear for years and a couple of time travels. As we know, he doesn't know how to navigate the relationship once he gets it, once he starts dating her, he can't give her marriage and a kid (partially because he was not ready and it wasn't what he needed/wanted, he wanted only the idea of dating Pear and stop being a loser). Not once he commented or agreed with Not & friends talking about Pear being hottest girl in uni (tho mostly it was Pisaeng dealing with it) – Kawi liked her for being kind and caring.

But then, he fell in love with Pisaeng. He started dating Pisaeng. Is he ready to go further? No, and there could be plenty of reasons, ranging from anxiety, self-doubts and trauma to lack of desire. He drank just to be able to kiss him, ffs. I am sure Kawi has a lot of psychological things holding him back from trying, it's been established, but that's not all of it in my opinion.

I'll put the rest under the cut because I feel like this post will be too long with all the screenshots, feel free to read the rest of it and let me know your thoughts~

Whenever in BL main characters end up on one bed, it's almost inevitable trope of 'will they won't they'. BMF teased us the other day with the drunk brave kiss from Kawi:

And that's how you show someone's desire to kiss: Kawi was staring at Pisaeng for minutes (notably, Pisaeng didn't have any thoughts until Kawi demanded attention and meaningfully stared some more). Everything slows down, you get some slow music, you cut down to faces/details to express emotions and let the viewer absorb the atmosphere (romantic or sexual or even inner dramatic turmoil – all the important bits use tools like this).

That's how I know Kawi wants to kiss. Kawi will want to keep kissing Pisaeng even when sober, once he gets past his block. Yeah, ace people can be comfortable with kissing too.

But do we ever get an impression Kawi wants to have sex with Pisaeng? Are we ever shown this? Not in my humble opinion.

Kawi doesn't touch Pisaeng much when kissing him. In fact, I think that scene is the only instance. We have talked about how intentional not-touching is seen with Pisaeng and Kawi relationship development, sorry I won't find those comments now. Then Kawi conveniently gets what he wanted (da kiss) and falls back asleep:D While Pisaeng is having his slow-close-up romantic moment by himself:

Now, fast forward to the future (but not the Future future) - Kawi is sober, lies in bed with Pisaeng (way less sober last night), already happy in a brand new relationship... and the only thoughts he's having is how Pisaeng is good looking and they are dating now.

I think I can safely bet how in all the other BLs there is usually a moment to close up on the romantic interest's face, or lips, longing stare showing the MC's desire to be intimate with your love. It's in 99% of the shows. Kawi has none of it. He just has a funky cute dialogue in his head that says 'I just want to keep staring at him' (and nothing else huh?)

The next trope BLs just love to use is someone undressing in front of their crush/partner. Let me just pull the scene from The Eclipse out (I wish I could compare it to P'Waa other works but BMF is his first BL, yet he definitely knows how to use visual tools)

Here at 2:25 we have Akk, a guy, inexperienced with dating and relationships too AND having insane amount of trauma, anxiety, self-doubts and holding back. So much that he has to break down crying several times to allow himself seek his own love and happiness. And yet in the beginning of his journey he still CLEARLY shows his interest in Ayan, even when they are enemies/rivals. It comes with:

staring at Ayan, looking him up and down, swallowing, turning his head away (indication of being flustered and having dirty thoughts)

close-ups on Ayan undressing

sexy music as bgm

And then we get his feelings and desire confirmed with very hot bed kiss that Akk, turns out, literally fantasized. (i actually was headcanonning akk as ace-spec but i accepted that wasn't the case as the show went on and we got shown more so yeah i can change my mind but kawi is heavily aced in 10 episodes and it's not stopping so far)

Compare the similar scene and trope with Kawi and Pisaeng undressing. Kawi is confused, mildly annoyed?, not a single swallow or eyes running away until he takes a hint (accompanied by the familiar sound that BMF uses for 'oh shit' realization). Funky comedic music on the background (and we know BMF does have osts for the romantic mood). Most importantly, there is never close-up/detail shot on Pisaeng.

Detail shots are 100% the go-to when you want to show desire, as I already said. Put a close up on the detail on someone else's body and add person's face reaction. Boom, you've got it.

Like, see the difference? Do you see it? That's Akk's POV.

And that's Kawi's POV:

Mind you, these are ALREADY BRAND NEW BOYFRIENDS. All poor Pisaeng gets is half- and full-body shots (adding to the comedy/simply telling what's happening), no slowing down the narration - and all the detailed looks on his body are simply out of focus, on the edge of the frame. I am fascinated by this cinematography.

We literally can see the book Kawi reads clearer than Pisaeng having his sexy striptease alone. Kawi is more interested in reading Sherlock Holmes than ogling Pisaeng and fantasizing about being close to him (even with all the inner turmoil he could be having – he is having it later, once he catches up on Pisaeng's blunt hit of inviting him to the shower and condoms in his backpack). it's also funny how kawi has the time to nag pisaeng about towel but since it's improv from krist to gawin who kept forgetting it, i'm not taking it seriously

Even then, his thoughts are confidently said out loud 'can we not have any sexual activities at all?', avoiding staying alone with Pisaeng in his room, 'i don't want to ride, i'm just here to take the vibes' (and while Pisaeng is upset and sad from the failed metaphor, Kawi genuinely thinks their date was great, this was enough for him, Kawi is brutally honest with Pisaeng, he wouldn't say this if he really didn't think so).

I can't remember any instances where sexy close-up shots were used in Kawi's POV. Only with kissing. Adding all the dialogue lines from Kawi and answers from others that are painfully precisely familiar for majority of ace people, adding how Kawi never has thought dirty thoughts until he clicked on people suggesting them (and not enjoying it)... I am dying on this hill and begging BMF not to fuck this up. Please don't give me ace erasure when ace-spec!Kawi has been hinted so heavily through several storytelling tools. They can meet in the middle, I just want BMF to be caring to Kawi and his feelings and not force him to cater to Pisaeng's needs because that's 'what happy boyfriends do and turns out, he did need to try it first to learn that he craves it!'

P.S. I do know Pisaeng and Kawi talked before the last scene and we'll 99.9% see it later, I'm also 90% sure Pisaeng time travelled in Ep.10, and I would be pleasantly surprised if we end up with Kawi and Pisaeng not going too far when they explore being intimate for the first time.

Oh, about the last scene. I had many mixed feelings (and was surprised to see people commenting how awww romantic and touching it was), because Krist shows a lot of internal struggle for Kawi (and no, not because he doesn't wanna kiss Gawin, fight me).

(nicely colored gifs by @piningbisexuals that portray everything i want to point out, thank you)

It's the blinking eyes, heavy breathing as soon as Kawi sheds his shirt, the swallowing, neck muscle twitching, furrowed determined eyebrows) and several little nods when he responds to 'Are you sure'?

It's very intentional acting. It's fucking brilliant acting in showing Kawi's anxiety and gosh, Kawi is being so brave to take this challenge and change his whole life once again, I might cry. If he turns out to be ace, I might actually cry but like I pointed out before, for me Kawi's lack of sexual desire is very readable. But no matter what, I have my trust in BMF to tread Pisaeng and Kawi intimacy carefully, it's been great so far and P'Waa knows what he's doing and how he is filming. I just hope it aligns with my wishful thinking.

[lottiecrabie]

i really wanna get into writing but idk how.. any advice?

okay if you mean actually just Writing, i fear the best advice i could give you is Just Start. i know i’ve said it often and i know i’ve warned how annoying it is to hear, but the truth is that you won’t get better at writing if you don’t do it. practice is absolutely necessary and needed. i’ve posted the first english fic i’ve ever written a little while ago and if you haven’t seen it, Trust me it was atrocious. i had to start there before i could get to where i am now.

the best way to start writing is to have a story you want to tell. i think that’s what will motivate you the most. if there’s any idea that is really inspiring, that’s been trotting your head, that interests you, throw yourself into it! that’ll make you want to write a lot more.

i cannot even begin to tell you the number of times i’ve started a story and haven’t finished it. i think that’s just part of writing, or at least Practicing writing: you’ve got some idea, write two chapters of it, one, a flashforward moment, then let it rest in your drafts if you get more invested in some other fleeting thing. at least you’ll have scratched that itch and gotten in some practice.

if you don’t have The Great Idea yet, there’s tons of small blurbs on the internet that could get you out of that initial rust. writing short scenes or concepts is a great way to practice without the Brainy part of writing, which is, at least to me, Plotting.

honestly writing fanfiction has definitely made me improve and helped me develop my style. it’s a way to keep me accountable and practice writing a lot more; you see how slow i can be to write, and that’s With the motivation of readership! imagine how hell it is when it’s just me and the google doc. having constant validation, feedback and readers was personally been an excellent way to get me to Do the actual writing. my yearly word count has increased exponentially since i’ve joined the ff community a few years ago. so posting your work, even if you’re a little insecure, even if you’re not fully proud, might at least motivate you to Continue doing it!

in terms of actual content, i’ve always been a pretty raw and intuitive writer, so i can’t give much advice on how to figure it out. plus, i have a very distinct style — imageries, vibes over plot, flowery prose, running sentences, personification, em dashes — which doesn’t mean it will be yours, and doesn’t mean yours will be in any way wrong or bad. there’s very clinical and technical writing that can be genius, it’s just not what i do. follow what feels right.

but still here’s a few advices i could give:

if you’re trying to get more prose-esque, i’d say a good way is to work with Images. try tying feelings and thoughts to something extremely concrete and vivid. it’s a good way to create an interesting dichotomy between those two opposites.

i think dialogues are essential to a story, but that’s probably because it’s what i like reading the most. dont lose yourself in the boring, normal conversations; i don’t need to hear every hey hi how are you doing. try jumping directly into the action.

i usually start a scene with a dialogue, throwing people directly into the scene, or with some sort of establishing shot. painting the scene of where and how the characters stand, what the decor looks like, perhaps offering the reader with necessary information.

try ending a scene with a high. again, to me that’s usually a dialogue — still none of that nice to see you bye goodbye stuff. the last line, to me, is usually a quip of some sort. if not a dialogue, there’s some sort of Punch to the end of scene in the action. a realization, a feeling, a moment. if you can’t find a way to end it with a bang, then maybe the scene isn’t necessary and shouldn’t be there at all. you’re building literary tension throughout each scene: i need to feel like there’s some climax even in small capsules.

very important!!! write paragraphs! to me it’s extremely arduous to read a story that has these long paragraphs i have to scroll through for ages to get to the bottom. i lose focus and motivation pretty quickly. one paragraph, one idea. follow that religiously. if you think it’s getting a bit too long, hack it. remember most people read on their phone now, too. one single paragraph shouldn’t take the entire scene.

you don’t have to write Heavy plots. i personally focus on the characters and their journey, which is just as valid! if you can’t seem to find these complex twisting ideas, maybe you can just tell the story of two people falling in love and developing together. that’s just as nice.

wow i actually had more advices than i thought. well, i think that’s it:) good luck:) i believe in you<3

[amber-lucca44]

Vonnie's thoughts: For Today & Chelsea Grin

So I put these two bands together cause... They both left my list of favorite artists lol. I'll explain 😗😅

Christian music

Okay let's see. I titled it that because... Well that's the main thing with me and For Today.

I love metalcore. Just looking at my favorite artists list you can tell, like duh this girl loves metalcore lmao. And For Today is 100% that. In fact, I would argue their breakdowns and vocals are some of the hardest I've heard for a metalcore band ever.

My issue with them...? Uhhh... They are very Christian. Veeery much so. And just a small look at their lyrics will let you know what their faith is. I, Vonnie, am not a Christian lol. So... The breakdowns can make me go crazy, sure. But when I hear the lyrics... i can't help but either giggle or flat out cringe. Because I don't believe in anything they are saying at all.

(Just a note for anyone reading this: I do NOT hate Christians, or any belief really. I am only against the bigotry that comes with it at times. I've been a victim of it, as many have as well.)

Many bands are often unfairly categorized as "Christian", reducing their music to the members' faith, which is bs. This band though? Yep, pretty fair in this case. About 95% of their music talks about it, and it can honestly get pretty annoying, as someone who doesn't believe any of that at all and has been discriminated with the same arguments.

I removed For Today from my favorites because of this, and honestly I just wish their music wasn't full of that content. I would love it sooooo much, but yeah those are my thoughts on their discography. 😭

(The bs I saw on some songs' comments 🤡)

Deathcore

Okay so Chelsea Grin made me think a few things. 😅

So at first, after hearing their discography, I thought maybe I'm not as much into deathcore as I thought I was...? Which tbh was weird, I love heavy breakdowns and guttural vocals lol.

But I just realized... The issue wasn't deathcore, it was Chelsea Grin (or at least the way I felt about their music). The thing is, I think they often sounded a bit too... Generic...? Like other than Ashes To Ashes and Self Inflicted, I think there was nothing really special about their sound (other than maybe the "quiet" breakdowns on Desolation Of Eden fuck I love that). I like hearing their songs on their own, but hearing the albums felt a bit tiring after a while. But I realized that was why. Their sound after Self Inflicted doesn't really have anything in particular that makes it stand out to me.

I'm realizing I don't exactly love deathcore, but I love "alternative" sounding deathcore. Suicide Silence's first two albums had an unfiltered aggressive sound, almost like a hardcore punk band doing metal. The Black Crown had a "nu deathcore" sound. Oceans Ate Alaska plays deathcore sounds over traditional metalcore songs. Rings Of Saturn plays aliencore ffs lol. Chelsea Grin didn't really offer me much more than a traditional deathcore sound, for the most part.

...therefore they are not on my favorites anymore either lol. Again, I do like their music. I just didn't vibe with it as much. 😅😭

[zoeykallus]

Fives – Soldier Boy 4 – Worries And Secrets

Fives x fem!Reader FF

Warnings: Angst/Worry/Talking About War/ Fluff

What Happened Before:

Soldier Boy

Part 2 - Caught In The Act

Part 3 - Tender Affection

Part 4 - Worries And Secrets

Your hands went to his neck as Fives was about to put his armor back on, you had been lying in bed for some time, making love a second time, cuddling, making out, goofily rolling around in the pillows. Then the soldier suddenly realized how late it was and he had been with you far too long, someone might notice.

"Can't you stay a little longer?" you asked, pouting.

He sighed softly, smiled a little sadly and kissed your pouty mouth.

"I wish I could, but if I don't get back to the barracks soon, we might attract unwanted attention," he explained.

Why did you have to fall in love with a clone, for that matter?

"Believe me, if I could stay," he said with a smile, "I'd love you all night long until you were walking funny the next morning."

You had to giggle at the thought. Fives stole another kiss, then put on his helmet. You slipped into your robe and escorted him to the door. With heavy hearts, you said goodbye to each other, promising to see each other again soon.

However, things turned out differently than expected. The next morning, Fives was sent into battle with his unit to Umbara, as you learned later that day through the news service.

Your heart grew heavy and concern immediately settled on your mind. As far as you had heard, Umbara had been hard-fought for some time and was a damn dangerous place. Through your uncle's influence, you couldn't help but sneak one report after another about Umbara. And with every sentence you read, your chest seemed to tighten. Fierce resistance, hundreds dead, hostile environment, were just a few of the buzzwords that had you sweating.

You knew Fives was a good soldier, he knew what he was doing, but that didn't alleviate your worry in the least. To make matters worse, Skywalker was not with his unit as usual; from one of the more recent reports, you learned that Skywalker had been reassigned and another Jedi had taken his place. Master Krell, you had never heard the name, at least not that you would know.

Fives had often talked about Skywalker, he admired the Jedi General and from what he always told you, Skywalker was extremely capable and always up front with his men. You didn't like that everything seemed to change in the middle of the battle, and you suspected Fives felt the same way. Of course, you couldn't travel to Umbra, not legally anyway. There were no legal civilian transports to Umbara. And what were you supposed to do anyway?

The days went by slowly and one morning at the breakfast table, your uncle approached you.

"Y/N, you've been particularly quiet lately. Is something bothering you?"

You looked up from the food you'd been poking at for several minutes into his good-natured face, his clear blue eyes benevolent and questioning.

You sighed softly, then asked, "Could you possibly get some current information on the war on Umbara? I... would like some information about the 501st."

Astonished, your uncle raised his bushy dark brows.

"Since when have you been interested in such things? I don't think it will lift your spirits, I hear the battles there have been grueling and with some setbacks so far," he said in surprise.

You put your fork aside, now you were even less hungry.

"What's wrong girl? Come on, you know you can talk to me about anything," your uncle said gently.

You looked at your uncle, you trusted him, he was one of those people who had a good heart, lived for it and stood by it. After all, he fought politically in his job for the rights of clones, maybe he had understanding when you confided in him.

You decided to slowly feel your way forward.

"You remember the clone soldier who was assigned to me as personal security?"

"Yes, Fives was the name if I'm not mistaken.... oh I see, he's with the 501st, you're worried about him?" it slowly dawned on your uncle.

You nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"You seem to have hit it off," the senator surmised.

"Yes, you could say that. I like him. Now he's at war on that planet and all I keep hearing is bad news about the war going on there," you admitted.

Your uncle was about to say something when there was a knock at the door. He sighed and called out, "The door is open."

The door opened and a clone you didn't know stuck his helmeted head in and said, "Good day Senator, with all due respect, it's not very wise to keep the door unlocked."

The senator laughed and said, "I know you and Tracker are standing guard outside the door, Fox."

You frowned, wondering why the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was standing guard outside your uncle's door, the threats must have become more serious.

"Still," Fox insisted, "you never know."

Your uncle smiled patiently and asked. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know that General Skywalker has requested an audience with your niece".

You looked at the clone in confusion.

"What, when?" you asked.

"Now. He's standing behind me."

Your uncle laughed and said, "Then let him in for heaven's sake".

Fox stepped aside and the tall Skywalker walked in, a boyish smile on his face as always.

"It's good to see you again Senator, Y/N" he said, bowing his head politely.

Hope that Skywalker had news about Fives rose in you.

"Master Skywalker, how is the 501st doing on Umbara?" you asked innocently.

The Jedi knew what exactly you wanted to know and smiled gently.

"The 501st is back on Coruscant, as of a few hours ago. There were... Complications, many casualties, Umbara has been a rough place, to say the least."

Your uncle sighed, "It sounds like a lot of clones died again".

Skywalker nodded gravely, "Unfortunately yes, there were traitors in our own ranks, Master Krell turned out to be a spy for the Sepparatists, but the 501st found out about it after some losses Krell was responsible for, and he was executed on the spot for causing the deaths of dozens of clones and almost turning the tide of the war in the enemy's favor."

You turned pale, feeling the blood drain from your face.

Skywalker looked at you and said, "Fives is fine, but he's been through a lot, lost many of his brothers, close friends among them, and almost got executed himself because of Krell. So he's a little rattled, but he's alive."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Your uncle looked at you scrutinizingly. Which the Jedi also noticed.

"Since he had done a good job here as a bodyguard and you got along well, I thought you would want to know," he noted.

You nodded gratefully. "That's right Master Skywalker, I appreciate that information very much," you returned.

When Skywalker had said goodbye and left again, your uncle turned back to you.

"You've fallen in love with Fives, haven't you?"

You looked at your uncle, startled.

He smiled and said, amused, "Don't look so shocked. You haven't eaten properly for days, you hardly talk, you're absent all the time. I felt the same way when I met your aunt."

Carefully you looked at him.

"So you're not angry?"

He laughed softly, leading you to the sofa while in the background one of the housemaids cleared the table. You glanced over your shoulder at her, she had lowered her eyes, but you knew she was probably listening.

"Maybe we should discuss this alone," you said quietly.

"The hatred I've been getting because of my cloning policy seems to have made you nervous," he noted, sending the housemaid out of the room.

"It's not just that, if anyone finds out about this, Fives could get in trouble and that's the last thing I want," you said seriously.

He nodded and said, "I understand that. Well, you two don't have to hide from me, but the public isn't ready for that yet and unfortunately neither is the law, but we're working on that as you know."

When there was another knock on the door your uncle called out again, "The door is open".

"Senator" it was Fox again "ARC 5555 requests an audience with your niece".

"Let him in" you said immediately.

Fox stepped aside, let Fives in, walked out and closed the door behind him.

Fives slowly removed his helmet, greeted the senator appropriately, and you as well.

"Fives," the senator said delightedly "Glad to see you back safe and sound."

"Thank you Senator, it was a close call a few times to be honest".

You eyed his armor. It was clean and polished, but had a few new dents, you noted.

Your uncle said, "Do me a favor and lock the door, Fives."

Somewhat puzzled but obedient, Fives did as he was told.

"I want to discuss something with you two," the senator said.

Fives' gaze briefly darted nervously, questioningly in your direction.

"Go ahead," he finally said.

"Y/N, told me about you two," your uncle began and when he saw Fives go pale he said, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I would be a hypocrite if I fought for your rights but forbade my niece to meet with you."

Fives took a deep breath.

"We didn't really want to do this behind your back,Senator, but we had to be careful".

Your uncle nodded, "Of course I understand that, I just want you both to know that you don't have to hide from me or keep secrets from me"

A wave of gratitude flooded through you and you could tell Fives felt no different.

Your uncle looked at you and said, "I'll leave you alone for a few hours. I'm sure you have things to discuss, and I'm meeting with Senators Amidala and Organa anyway. Fox and Tracker will be coming with me, so there's no one left standing outside the door. If you want to play it safe, though, Fives should be gone by the time I return, as my escort might get suspicious"

"Thank you," you said sighing with relief and hugging the tall man who was your uncle.

On his way out, the senator tapped Fives kindly on the shoulder.

As he left the room, Fives and your eyes met and you felt a tingle under your skin.

"I missed you so much, I was worried all the time," you said softly.

@clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi

@mybigfatspoonielife

@revan-posting

[butwhyduh]

Can you write something with Cassandra Cain/ Black Bat and the prompt ‘sexy training/sparring’ with supersis!reader?

Ooooo Interesting idea.

Warning: suggestive but no smut

Another complete mission done and the post mission meeting was coming to a close and you just wanted to take your shower and go to bed. Nightwing finally nodded and you started walking up to your room along with everyone else.

“Hey, can I talk to you,” he asked and you turned around. The others filed out around you.

“You were reckless. You could have gotten hurt today-“

“I don’t have a scratch on me-“

“And if they had Kryptonite or magic, you’d be dead,” he finished his sentence. “You need training before I let you go back out in the field. You’ll get someone hurt. Mandatory remedial training starts tomorrow.”

“Wing- really?” You protested.

“Yep! And I have just the person to punch you into shape,” Dick said with a positivity that was purposefully annoying.

“Who?”

“Black Bat,” he said while leaving the room.

“… Black Bat?” You mumbled after he left. So you’d worked with her a few times. She’s an insanely good fighter and her outfit is super scary. And you might have a tiny huge crush on her.

The next morning you were surprisingly nervous. Was it the fact that your heart beat a little faster when you thought of spending all day with her? Maybe. Was it genuine worry that she might find a way to actually hurt you? Maybe. We’re you gonna get your ass beat? Absolutely.

Cassandra and Dick walked in together and he rubbed his hands together happily. She was wearing black Lycra clothing and no mask. Her black hair was chin length and brushed back from her forehead.

“Okay so Cass is gonna train you with some defensive and offensive maneuvers but first we just want you to spar. No powers from you,” he looked at you. “No speed, no flight, and definitely no super strength. Cassandra is still a regular human. Even though she kicks everyone’s butt,” Dick said in a false whisper. Cass had a small smile.

“I’m not worried,” she said and her smile grew. You smiled nervously. You were gonna die.

“Alright, let’s spar,” Dick said.

“Okay,” you squeaked out.

Cass got in a fighting pose and you held your hands up. She immediately swept your legs from beneath you and you landed on the mat solidly. You tried to jump back up but a kick to the side had to landing on the ground again with a small oof of air puffing from your chest and if actually hurt. That was a new sensation.

“You are.. durable,” she said conversationally as she danced around you and you barely dogged most of her punches.

“Uh yeah, part Kryptonian,” you answered and another kick landed on your ribs and you were wincing in pain. How was she actually hurting you?

“That kick would have killed anyone else and she barely reacted,” she told Dick. He nodded. “But she is not trained to fight. Only strong enough to be hit,” Cass added.

“I’m right here,” you protested. “Wait, killed??”

She kicked your legs from beneath you and you landed bodily on the ground. Cass quickly wrapped her legs around your arm and shoulder in a hold and pulled. It didn’t quite hurt but you weren’t able to move either.

“Do you tap out,” Dick asked and you kinda pulled your arm for Cass to go along with it. You tried to sit up and was rewarded with a kick to the same spot on your side as before. It dropped you back to the floor.

“… yeah,” you groaned. She immediately let go and got back in a standing position. You rolled to your feet slowly.

“No super strength,” Cass reminded you.

“Again? You beat me easily,” you said.

“Make it less easy,” she smiled widely and your heart pounded in your chest at the sight, even though it meant she was going to beat you up again.

Dick’s phone went off and he walked to the edge of the room to answer. You took the break to grab some water. You weren’t tired exactly but it was something to do. He came back with an apologetic look.

“I’ve got to go. But you two keep it up. Cass knows what she’s doing. Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. We’re having fun,” she said.

“We are?” You said surprised.

“Yes, I don’t have to hold back.”

“Great,” Dick said as he left the room and you up Cassandra’s mercy. Your nerves went sky high. You were way too attracted to her to act normal in this situation.

She stood back in a fighting pose and motioned for you to attack her. You gave a punch far from full strength and before you could blink, she had hit you twice in the ribs with the side of her hand and pulled your hand behind your back and upwards.

“Don’t leave yourself open. Hands up,” she commented while releasing your hand. You nodded.

You started again with a punch and this time you blocked one hit but she kneed you in the stomach instead and you groaned. How hard could she hit?? She knew what areas to hit. You tried to punch her and she knocked your legs from beneath you and you hit the mat again, this time on your back.

Cass straddled your waist and started hurling you with a barrage of punches that you could barely dodge. You tried to hit back only to have her tie your wrists with a rope you hadn’t even seen her grab from some pocket. She was lightning fast. You pulled at them before stopping when you realized you couldn’t use your super strength in the fight.

“Do you tap out,” she asked and you could only stare at her. Holy shit you were too gay for this. Way too gay. She was straddling your waist ffs.

One of those things that wasn’t public knowledge was her increased abilities to read body language. Cass studied you and the way you moved and looked at her and it didn’t take much to learn what was on your mind.

She increased the pressure by pulling your wrists. You gasped. “Do you tap out?” Cass repeated, looming over you.

“I- uhh,” you stuttered. Your mind was gone. Smoke. A pretty girl was on top of you.

“Why are you… flustered,” she asked. She was staring at you like a detective. Was she bending closer? Her heartbeat wasn’t louder, you realized. But that didn’t mean much to a bat who probably trained that away.

“Well- you’re, I mean,” you stuttered again. She was definitely bending down towards you and you froze. Cass bent by your ear and your skin tingled at her breath.

“You find me distracting,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. “You often watch me train.” She ran her teeth along the edge of your earlobe and you loudly inhaled. Your hand wrapped around one of her wrists lightly as best it could. Cass turned her head and you couldn’t help but look down at her lips.

“You’re brash. And reckless,” she stated and you gulped. She looked your face over before continuing. “But you have a kind heart.”

You turned your face to better accommodate a kiss if she wished. Hopeful but certainly not expectant.

“Too bad you can not fight,” she mused before pressing her lips against yours. You melted in her touch. You tried to cup her face or hug her or anything to only feel the rope around your wrist. She nibbled on your lip and you ripped the rope to thread your hand in her hair.

She pulled back. “No super strength.”

“But-“

“None,” she said tilting your chin up towards her. You put your wrists back where she had them. She pressed her lips back against yours and you couldn’t help the soft sounds you made. You pulled away at the noises in the hall.

“Nightwing,” you breathed and Cass was up and standing like nothing happened within a second and right before Dick opened the door. You, of course, looked like an idiot laying on the ground.

“Any progress,” Dick asked as you stood back up.

“Uhh,” you started.

“She will learn,” Cass answered. Dick was looking at you and Cass grinned like a cat at you from behind you.

“Yep,” you said and he smiled.

“Good. We’ll schedule it a few times a week,” Dick said while typing on his phone. Probably making the schedule already. “Just until Cass decides you’re ready. Now you have flying training with Koriand’r. You’ll be in fighting shape in no time.”

————————————

Hours later:

“So how is Y/n doing?” Clark asked Dick.

“Good. She’s training to be a better fighter before I put her out in the field.”

“Who with?” Clark asked with a frown. “Even though she didn’t grow up fighting, she has super streng-“

“Don’t worry. She’s training with Black Bat and to be honest, she probably won’t get a single hit in,” Dick said with a grin.

“I’m surprised she didn’t faint,” Clark said jokingly. Dick’s smile dropped.

“Is she having an health problems or anything-“

“No no. She’s just a… big fan,” Clark said. Dick nodded casually before realization hit him.

“Like that?”

“Hahaha yeah,” Clark said with a laugh. “Anyways, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”

[bleachbleachbleach]

Do you ever stop and think "Mayuri has a (singular) really really long nail"?

lmao half this post was written before that Szayel ask and half was written after, so apologies is there’s any repetition or disjuncture across the two!!!

I'll be honest, anon, I often forget this detail! In the same way that I often forget that I have a giant full-color picture of Sunflower Mayuri set as one of my other desktop images, right up until I hit a rogue keyboard shortcut and am suddenly transported into his midst:

He's been lurking there for a full year and I am always taken by complete surprise.

I was actually poking around these chapters the other day, and I think what honestly I DO stop and think about is Mayuri's moral compass? Like, the fact that it exists. And I don't mean this in a "he acts like a sick freak but secretly he really cares" kind of way, or even a "he revels in his being a sick freak and doesn't realize he cares until he does" kind of way. The definition of "moral compass" here is absolutely a Mayuri Original Definition. He's totally invested in his various experiments to satiate his own personal agendas, but he actually does more "for the sake of Soul Society" than possibly anyone else, and... does a pretty good job of it? I imagine Soul Society would be less inclined to handwave whatever other shit he's got going on if he weren't, but my point is a weird amount of his time is honestly spent on things that benefit others, offer protection, etc. And again: Mayuri. Not a secret cinnamon roll. But he also can't be flatly read.

He's one of the few captains who seems willing to go toe-to-toe with Yamamoto about some of Yamamoto's leadership decisions--notably because he thought Yamamoto's Quincy genocide wasn't genocidal enough, er, but he also later insinuates that he disagrees with Yamamoto's conception of honor/patriotism--that the Gotei 13 serve 'til death, and that if you can't, then you should kill yourself. (Makes sense, given that Urahara drags him out of the Den of Maggots, so Mayuri's seen the fruits of this particular domestic policy first-hand.) He and Yamamoto are both dudes with often shitty opinions, but I think it makes them both more interesting that they are different shitty opinions.

I don't think his disagreement on that count is purely out of self-preservation/valuing self over others, either. Weirdly enough, I think he actually likes Soul Society and its observable phenomena (e.g. his colleagues), as long as it's not touching or interfering with whatever else he's got going on. He probably could have just killed dead Kensei/dead Rose/Matsumoto (and Hitsugaya, too), and that would have been a lot easier, but he went through the trouble of incapacitating/podding them. I mean, the man reads the SC cover to cover for fun. Sure, that's data, but let's be real--70% of those articles have got to be pure drivel.

And also like--I find Mayuri's fight with zombie!Hitsugaya extremely upsetting. I do not enjoy it at all. It feels horrible. But Mayuri doesn't even seem to enjoy it either? In the lead-up to it, he makes like three separate references to his own kind heart that are definitely not to be taken at face value, and talks a lot about the thrill of victims writhing against you, and how pleased he is to be able to test a bunch of new drugs on Hitsugaya, but then you get this face:

And it's not like he particularly likes Hitsugaya. (In fact, for reasons unknown, in the Bount arc Mayuri very specifically singles Hitsugaya out to be someone he Does Not Like! I imagine that as the Gotei 13 interacts with each other more often post-ryoka/Aizen, Hitsugaya is just more annoying to him. "Yes, we re-grew Hinamori's organs. Of course we did a good job! Get out of here, stop helicopter-captaining, ffs go micromanage your own division--")

I'm not saying that face is indicative of compassion. But he's not having all the fun he said he was going to.

I enjoy that a character like Mayuri can be humanized--here meaning “made complex” I guess--without that act suggesting that it should be attended with an assumption of goodness, or mercy, or redemption.

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

@ippoddity here, jumping onto this post~

I too, have Sunflower Mayuri as my desktop background (but my desktop is much more cluttered than @whipplefilter’s, so I won’t be showing a picture of it).

I didn’t really give much thought to Mayuri’s long fingernail either, except to think “Boy, that’s kind weird, but this guy’s whole vibe is creepy so it fits.” But then you got me to thinking about it more, and I started doing some digging. My first thought was “maybe this long fingernail is like the one that all those old Asian men have??” But it turns out that’s usually the pinky nail. Mayuri’s long fingernail is the middle finger of his right hand, and from what I can tell after looking at hundreds of panels of him, is that this is consistent throughout the series (someone please correct me if I’m wrong). I think you can see his nails pretty well in these shots:

What’s really standing out to me here isn’t just his long nail, but the fact that all his others are so short?? My initial impression was just that he had painted his nails half black/half white (kinda going along with his face), but on close-up here, it seems like his nails are actually cut really short. That just seems incredibly painful to me, and the only people I know that have nails this short are habitual nail-biters. So maybe he’s a nail biter? Which leads me to wonder why he leaves that middle nail on his right hand so long…

This is just a speculation, but you know those reset buttons on certain electronics that can only be reached with a needle or unfolded paperclip? I feel like a lot of older electronics were like this. ANYWAY, given all the modifications that Mayuri has given himself, I think this long nail is probably his version of a reset button tool. There’s no way he doesn’t have one somewhere on him, which he needs to hit for a hard reset when he messes something up. It���s gotta be a long and thin tool that can hit a reset button, and a fingernail is the perfect choice! It’s easily accessible, in fact, it’s already on his hand!

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that Mayuri canonically takes off his makeup every night and reapplies it every day. We know that underneath it all, he’s a (somewhat) normal looking shinigami. And it seems like it would be kinda inconvenient to have that long nail all the time… So I think it might also be a stick-on nail??

[tennessoui]

when is anakin going to get his revenge and kiss divorced obi-wan back

yes hello this got out of hand and the best moment would be in the hypothetical part two but here is a KUWSK directly post kiss from Anakin's pov. For context, this snippet and this snippet probablllyyyy should be read?

(2.8k, ffs @ kit)

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself after he drops the kids off at school and starts making the drive back home. His hands are tight on the wheel. He’s been trying to think about something else--anything else ever since it happened, but his mind refuses to let go of that moment.

He’s replayed it so many times in the last hour and a half that it doesn’t even feel like an actual memory anymore, just a combination of sensations.

The chill of the almost winter morning that made the hair on his arms stick up. The tacky feeling in his mouth because he had slept a bit later than he had wanted to and didn’t have time to brush his teeth if he wanted to make breakfast before the kids and Obi-Wan left.

The woodsy-spiced smell of Obi-Wan’s cologne, stronger than normal. They’d been standing closer together than normal too, but it had been so early and Obi-Wan’s mind had obviously been miles away.

Anakin had been saying something stupid, something that didn’t mean anything, and Obi-Wan had replied and then Obi-Wan had leaned in and kissed him, full on the mouth. His beard had felt so soft against Anakin’s skin, his lips even softer, if a bit chapped.

Had they been chapped? Now Anakin can’t remember, he’s turned this memory over in his head so often. It had been for less than a handful of seconds. A quick brush of lips, a taste of a life Anakin has dreamt about for well over a year now. And Obi-Wan had just turned and left, as if he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. As if he hadn’t just kissed Anakin on the porch for everyone to see.

Obi-Wan would never be that cruel on purpose. Perhaps to that one profesor who always tries to refute Obi-Wan’s papers, but not to Anakin.

Which means Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking. He had been perhaps caught up in the domesticity of it all, of having someone wish him luck and see him off. And maybe Anakin has been doing something like that for the last two years, but there’s a person who did that for Obi-Wan for much longer. A person they ran into at the park just two days ago.

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself as he gets out of the car and unlocks the house. He tries desperately to keep the despair and jealousy out of his voice, but at least no one’s around. It’s not that he hates the woman or anything. Really, he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand her, but that’s a given.

He’d never have Obi-Wan’s heart and soul and throw it away. He’d never get tired of fighting with Obi-Wan if he was fighting to stay with the man. He’d never be able to run into him at a park and then just leave again as if seeing him stirred up nothing inside of him.

Seeing Obi-Wan always stirs things up inside of Anakin. It makes no sense that Satine, who had had Obi-Wan’s love--knew all those things about the man that Anakin did not and could not know as just his housemate--had just been satisfied with saying hello and then just as quickly goodbye.

The same cold sinking feeling that Anakin’s been trying to shake off for the last two and a half days returns, and he has to lean against the countertop in the kitchen for a second to ground himself.

They’re going to get back together. They will.

At the park, they had seemed so in their own world, as if everything else had disappeared except for them. Anakin had had to send Luke over, couldn’t stand watching that reconnection happen without at least trying to remind Obi-Wan that he has a family now, that he’s not alone anymore, that there are people who love him.

Obi-Wan had glared at him for his meddling, which hadn’t admittedly done wonders to his confidence. And when Obi-Wan had deposited Luke--Luke--on the ground to chase after Satine, when he had hugged her, Anakin knew for sure.

They were going to lose him.

Anakin had had his set of chances and had taken none of them, and now Obi-Wan’s going to re-fall in love with his ex-wife and Anakin’s going to have to be the supportive best friend who has to figure out how to tell his children that due to unforeseen and tragic circumstances, their Obi is probably going to elope to Paris and maybe send a postcard once or twice a year addressed solely to the children and Anakin will grow old and die alone and the name Obi-Wan Kenobi will be banned from his small, shadowy apartment, and all Anakin will have is a few memories of the two most important and heart wrenching kisses he’s ever been a part of in his entire life.

“He was thinking about Satine,” he tells himself. “He kissed me but it wasn’t about me. It hasn’t ever been about me.”

There’s no denying that Obi-Wan loves Anakin’s children and also no denying that his children love Obi-Wan. Anakin thinks he wouldn’t love Obi-Wan half as much if he hadn’t absolutely been charmed by the kids and vice versa. But he had been. They had been. Those few weeks when Anakin had thought about leaving a year ago had been absolutely awful because he knew he would be breaking his twins’ hearts, not just his. He’d be hurting Obi-Wan too, he had known that.

But he had had to try. Because he knew that if he didn’t try to leave then he’d have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of Obi-Wan’s life when it came time for the man to grow tired of his presence.

It had been a last ditch attempt at saving his dignity. And it hadn’t taken much argument from everyone else to get him to abandon the idea completely.

Now he can’t help but to think he should have put his foot down, gotten some distance. Because now he’s entrenched in Obi-Wan’s world, the same way Obi-Wan is entrenched in his and the twins’ world. Leaving now will feel like ripping himself in two. He’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night five years from now and wonder about the academic response to Obi-Wan’s most recent publication.

He’ll probably have read it. He’ll probably still be fielding questions from his kids’ friends’ parents about whatever happened to that handsome man that used to come in to help during Show-And-Tell Day? Do you remember who I’m talking about, Anakin?

If he had left then, the idea of leaving now wouldn’t hurt so much. But there’s a ticking clock in his head.

Obi-Wan kissed him.

But he was thinking about Satine.

He calls Padme, because that’s sort of what he does when he doesn’t know what to do. She’s never turned him away--with the rejected marriage proposal being the one glaring exception, of course.

Thankfully, she doesn’t start now, though she does sound a little stressed when she picks up.

“Hey,” he says trying to sound normal and as if he isn’t a few minutes alone with his thoughts away from crying like a baby.

“Ani?”

“Are you--are you busy? Something sort of happened.”

“My flight is boarding,” Padme admits, but there’s a rustle on the other end of the line like she’s just sat down. “But it’s not like I’m not assigned a seat. They won’t leave without me. What happened?”

Anakin smiles in spite of himself. She’s really just such an angel of a person.

“Are the children alright?” she asks, sounding worried the longer it takes for Anakin to respond. “Ani?”

“No, yeah, the children are fine. I dropped them off at school this morning. But. Um.” He takes a deep breath. “Obi-Wankissedme.”

“I’m sorry?” Padme asks.

“Obi-Wan kissed me.”

The other end of the line is silent. “And we’re calling this a problem now?” she asks faintly. “Is he a bad kisser?”

“He’s a great kisser,” Anakin defends, shifting awkwardly on his feet, catching sight of the fridge door and quickly turning away.

“Then I don’t…?” Padme trails off uncertainly. Anakin can understand this confusion. Padme has only had to hear about how much Anakin wants Obi-Wan to kiss him for about two years now.

“I don’t think he realized he did it,” Anakin confesses. “He just did it as he was leaving. Because I said goodbye. It--I don’t think he realized who he was kissing.”

Now Padme sounds a distinct mix of skeptical and sympathetic, a tone Anakin’s only ever heard her use with him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because--because we went to the park the other day and he ran into his ex-wife and they were together for, for years so--so obviously he just--he wasn’t--it wasn’t me he was kissing. He was thinking about Satine.”

The words sound dull and practiced and lifeless.

“Oh, Anakin,” Padme says.

“And they’re probably gonna get back together, and we’re going to have to leave, and he’ll never know that I--” Anakin cuts himself off and thunks his head on the countertop with a groan.

Padme hums disbelievingly. “Anakin, I know you’ve never believed me when I say this, but that man is gone over you. And I think if he kissed you long enough for you to tell me for certain that he’s a good kisser, then he definitely knew he was kissing you.”

Anakin bites his lip and debates the pros and cons of being completely truthful. But he had called Padme for help, and she can’t provide the best advice if she doesn’t know the full story.

“That’s not the first time he’s kissed me,” Anakin finally admits, rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck.

“What?” Padme exclaims, probably much louder than appropriate for a public space. “Anakin Skywalker, explain yourself right now.”

He exhales forcefully. “Last New Year’s Eve party.”

“That was almost a year ago! And nothing else ever happened between you two? What? We always thought that once the first kiss was out of the way we’d need to beat you both with sticks to keep you off each other.”

“Well--wait, who’s we?”

Padme tsks. “Myself and Obi-Wan’s coworker.”

“You’ve been gossiping about me?” Anakin asks, torn between being flabbergasted and offended.

“That’s not important right now,” Padme says airily. “What’s important here is the fact that you apparently kissed Obi-Wan Kenobi and never told me?”

“He doesn’t remember, okay?” Anakin snaps. “He. We’d been drinking. A lot. It was after everyone left. And. I was in the kitchen and he was in the kitchen and he--”

--had pinned him to the front of the fridge and just looked at Anakin for a few seconds like he was the most precious, important thing in the entire world, and Anakin had opened his mouth to say something and Obi-Wan had--

“--kissed me,” Anakin says out loud. “And then he--”

He had pressed impossibly closer to Anakin, one hand wrapped around his hip, caressing the thin skin there while his other hand ghosted down Anakin’s hair and back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch, as his tongue mapped out Anakin’s mouth for what could have been seconds or minutes, and Anakin could have stayed there forever, but his own hands had grabbed too tightly onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, must have jerked him forward too roughly, because he had been pushed away and--

“--threw up in the kitchen sink,” he finishes.

There’s dead silence on the other end of the line before Padme bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay,” she says once she’s calmed down. “But how do you know for sure he forgot about that? Sounds like something he might just never want to talk about if it ended up with him vomiting in the kitchen.”

“I just know,” Anakin promises. And he does. Obi-Wan had no idea about that kiss. It was a secret Anakin thought about too often, but one he had kept to himself for nearly a year, too afraid to reveal it to Obi-Wan only for the man to say he hadn’t meant to, it hadn’t meant anything, he’d been much too drunk.

Even the idea of Obi-Wan apologizing for one of the hottest kisses Anakin’s ever experienced in his life has been enough to keep Anakin silent on the matter.

But now he’s been kissed again, this time by a sober Obi-Wan, and it still--it still doesn’t mean anything.

“It didn’t mean anything to him then, or he would have remembered,” Anakin tells Padme. “And this one doesn’t mean anything either. The timing is just...it can’t be a coincidence, Padme. He’s never once thought about kissing me, about...about coming home to me like that, and now, a few days after he runs into his ex-wife he’s suddenly planting one on me as he walks out the door? I know--I know you think he...he might...he might have liked me, or...or wanted me, but. There’s no way I can hold a candle to a decades long marriage. I just. I can’t compete with that. He doesn’t want me to.”

Padme’s Anakin is cut off on her end by what sounds like a flight attendant. “Yes, I’m coming,” Padme tells the person, and there’s shuffling and then the distinct sound of the harsh beep of the ticket scanner, before Padme’s heels are clicking on the flight tunnel. “Do not rush me,” Padme tells someone. “What are you going to do, close this thing while I’m in it?”

Anakin has to hide his only sort of watery smile in his hand as he listens quietly on his end.

“Anakin?” Padme asks, and she must be on the plane because there’s a buzz of other people’s noises around her. “Anakin, I know you won’t believe me, and maybe--maybe you’re right and they’ll get back together, maybe you’re going to lose him.” Anakin’s heart hurts quite painfully at these words. “But do you remember what you did the first time you proposed to me and I said no?”

Great, yeah. Just bring up all his biggest failures in love. Sure, why start with Padme? When Anakin had been five he had tried to kiss a boy and been shoved into the mud for his efforts. That’s a fine place to begin, really. Just drag up all the old hurts. He sighs. “I went and got you a bigger ring.”

“And do you remember what you did when I told you that I couldn’t raise the children, but my parents wanted to?”

“I threatened to take them to court if they didn’t let me have them,” Anakin says. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, of course, but Padme’s parents had never really liked him. They still don’t.

Someone’s trying to talk to Padme on the other end of the line. “Yes, fine,” she snaps. “Anakin. Anakin, what I’m trying to say is I’ve never seen you give up on anything without at least trying to fight for it. And I don’t know why this should be different. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you have to watch him get back together with his ex-wife and know you never even tried to tell him he had other options.”

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, speechless. “Then what--”

“So go,” Padme cuts him off. “Go tell him he has other options! For fuck’s sake, yes, alright I’m getting off the phone. Anakin, when I land I expect to have a very detailed account of events waiting for me on my email. Goodbye.”

She hangs up. Anakin stares at the phone in his hand for a handful of seconds, thinking over what she’s said. What she’s implied.

She’s right, of course. Anakin never gives in this easily. He doesn’t fully understand why he’s so ready to capitulate now. Maybe he knows full-well he can’t compete with whatever Obi-Wan had with his ex-wife. They have history. They grew up together, became adults together. Anakin’s just this weird twenty-eight year old man with a pair of kids too old for his age who crashed at Obi-Wan’s house during the lowest moment of his life. Of maybe both of their lives.

Love can’t bloom from that. Not really. Not...not the sort of love that turns into a lifelong marriage.

But. Padme’s right. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t try. If he doesn’t know for sure.

So either he could putter around the house all day waiting for Obi-Wan to text or call or come home, talking himself into and out of confessing every emotion he’s harbored for the man for the past two years, or….or he could drive to his campus and confront him in his office, put himself on the execution block and hand Obi-Wan the axe. At least it would be a quick death.

He glances at the digital clock on the oven. 9:38. The idea of waiting ten hours for a resolution makes his skin crawl.

And besides. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t packed a lunch.

[ravenadottir]

what do you think the characters would be doing after the show/how would they be using their platform? for example, i think lottie would be using hers to give people astrology readings and stuff and i think the season 3 mc would be sooo problematic online

ok but you know what? definitely! s3 mc would be causing the stir she wanted to in the villa and couldn't. i'm almost certain she would be raging and saying absurd things to get attention, something like gabby hana you know? BIG YIKES.

one thing is certain... all of them (purposely or not) would be making thirst traps... and definitely supporting masks and registering to vote. so that's a certainty for almost all of them.

lottie. witchtok constantly. not necessarily giving readings but she would be an apologist and majority on that tag. her instagram would be split into two accounts: one for her personal endeavours like thirst traps and *looks of the day*, and a second for her brand as a makeup artist/personal stylist. cause i think that would be so fucking cool! lottie knows how to perpetuate her personal brand and would use social media for that as well. here's some edits i did in the past to explain it better. i headcanon a collab with elisa for wigs that they would both wear on social media, so that's something i really like! plus, advocating for women's rights, especially when a male politician says something dumb, so you know, EVERY SINGLE DAY.

bobby. in the middle of the pandemic? can't help thinking he would be doing some humorous videos, but in my head they're not the funny type. just some cringey ones... don't get me wrong, but bobby is only funny when he's not trying to, and in social media he strikes me as the type that not only makes videos but also puts the towel over his head to play a girl, so that's probably the majority of his content. some food of course, and DEFINITELY some *cute* selfies that he knows it works as thirst traps. i think he talks about registering to vote and blm, but doesn't give his opinion on anything else, politics wise. here's bobby's feed for the rest.

gary. i'm not thrilled to inform that gary would be thirst trapping all the time. now that he's relatively famous there's no reason why not posting those pics and videos. between tik tok trends to show off his muscles, and instagram to... well, do that exact same thing, he might take some time to show nan and the soup kitchen, but overall... thirst traps. possibly being blunt about masks and registering but his content is very closed off. also, he will get a dog and encourage people to adopt. there's a lot of pranks on dicky and vice versa, so that's something i thought for his social media, just couldn't find a good faceclaim that has a variety of pics.

lucas. mostly bringing awareness about covid and the use of masks, probably pointing it out a couple of political disputes, and definitely advising people to be careful about their votes all around the world. i like to think he's a huge advocate for legalization of a certain practice that women have to beg to have (you know the one), and i think he knows exactly how to make a thirst trap without making one. stop asian hate and blm carrds present, and often giving his followers the incentive to donate. DEFINITELY 'look of the day' for at least the weekend, and lots and lots of landscape from the places he's been visiting or wishing to.

henrik. he's everywhere and he takes his phone to talk about it. no doubt henrik is having the time of his life by travelling alone, or with his wife, and doing lives at all times. i think you would see him doing lives in the middle of the night, or watching the sunset/sunrise with his followers, besides making his *questionable* forest foraging and recipes. survival videos? MOST LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. here's his social media, where i covered mostly of what his relationship would like on instagram. (heavily based off "beyond the hill").

carl. the amount of rpg on his stories? immaculate. chess? you bet! lots and lots of carl's launchings for his company, which does have a separate account but he can't quite separate himself from it and it shows on his feed. his relationship would be discreetly displayed with cryptic captions since he's not so sentimental. here's his feed with some personal things he would be encouraged to post and boost that confidence of his.

anon that asked for more hannah stuff, this is for you:

hannah. i have one for her because i do like her aesthetic. don't mind the faceclaim, it was the only one i could find in so many situations. horses, books, some *cute* selfies, travelling pics and more. on tiktok definitely booktok, no doubt about it. she might do a lot of the "telling the story of my book as a story time" trend to promote it and say "technically it's real life."

elisa. it's all about branding and she knows how to do it well! some influencers might not get political because of how they can be perceived but i think elisa doesn't give a flying fuck about that. she talks often about blm and vaccines on her stories. i get a jackie aina vibe from her when talking about brands that support/encourage dark skin models and influencers, so that's a plus. she will give shit to a makeup brand that doesn't care for shade range and won't hide her feelings about it. here's her usual feed, with looks and tours (that i'm certain she would do a lot). i also think she'll eventually cave and have a brand of wigs, clothes and makeup, AS SHE SHOULD.

hope. there's no question about her activism on social media and i like to imagine she would be speaking up against anti-vaxxers and racism, mostly. just like yewande, she would probably talk about every time she felt the show might've favoured people that don't look like her. we would be getting the hot tea on everything since she's so honest. there's also lots of looks and promoting her friends' products because she supports them so much. priya's clothing line, elisa x lottie collab, etc. here's the feed i made for her a while ago.

chelsea. she might not be that deep into politics but she'll talk about covid and how people should be more careful about it, "wearing all these cute masks my babes lozza made for us!". LOTS of *look of the day* and tours on the spaces she decorates, besides the behind the scenes of parties and weddings (of ex-islanders) that i know she would throw. her feed also includes her closet, supporting her friends' endeavours and promoting them, besides some random mug collection shots and FOR SURE a pug selfie with mc.

priya. there's not much to say except for the occasional thirst trap (with those amazing thigh, ffs she should), lots of vaccine warnings, definitely political anecdotes and her clothing brand. i love to think she would have an actual boutique once things get settled after covid, and she would use social media to promote every line. her feed consists mostly of her travelling, designs, supporting the girls and her photoshoots.

kassam. lots and lots of backstage photos and that *prickly* way of demanding people to use their brains and wear a mask, besides getting the vaccine. in studio or just before the stage, selfies with a clothing line with his logo and definitely pics with islanders he didn't get to meet but is now friends with. during covid he would be using his lives to play for his followers, like lots of dj's and musicians i've seen doing on reddit and tiktok, probably called "late night music" or something like that. encouraging followers to donate for causes as well.

noah. not so huge on social media, might be the most discrete of them all. there would be lots and lots of pictures of the mornings before he opens the library, because i sincerely think he would keep his job. not the most outspoken about certain matters but carrds like the blm's and 'stop asian hate''s are on all of his bio's. i do like to imagine him taking selfies with the boys from the show, like ibrahim. he would be so present in noah's feed it's not even funny. the casual "cute unintentional" thirst trap too. family photos from ages ago and lots of his siblings as well. he does love to write long captions for whenever he posts his girlfriend. one thing though, during the first few months on the outside, he wouldn't be so present, afraid of facing the bashing on him if he got with mc in the show. that could be a reason for him to stay away until people "forget" about it.

marisol. SO - MANY - SUITS - SELFIES it makes me cry happy tears. between advocating for women's rights in a more technical way, she would definitely be using her platform to also talk about lgbtq+, especially after the realization she had during her journey. lots and lots of activism about those things, and i think she would be doing a fine job. definitely promoting the girls' products/services and an occasional thirst trap with a braless suit look.

rocco. covidiot. (i just wanted to use this nickname one more time). he might get a hard time from followers and villa buddies because of his stance on vaccines. i just hope he reads some articles instead of sharing bibity-bobity-bullshit on facebook and instagram. there's lots of vaccine memes on his comment sections no matter what he posts though. it's gonna take a while for the public to move on.

[suga-kookiemonster]

I have a weird relationship with bts fanfics because while I love reading them, I also worry that these are not fictional characters but real people who are being sexualised on the internet, often and especially by minors. Some of the tropes and the way they have been written (where y/n is degraded, or treated badly, has no voice etc etc.) really put me off fanfiction. But over time I found writers like you who write them and 'y/n' in a way that makes it fun to read, even with smut involved. It's almost as if they are characters in a book i'm reading and not real life celebrities. Idk if i'm making sense anymore but do you think of them as fictional characters when you write them or are you consciously writing them as you see them in media?

i completely understand your hesitancy when it comes to fanfiction involving real people--i had the same feeling when i first came into the fandom! but I've been writing ff for a long time, and at the end of the day, writing for bts is no different than writing other characters. because that's exactly what they are...characters.

i don't know bts in real life, and neither does anyone who writes or reads them. so, to us all, they are CHARACTERS. i like to write in personality traits that they've shown me to add a bit of fun and realism into my work, but i obviously know that i'm not actually portraying them or their relationships to each other or how they would actually react in whatever situation i'm writing!

and neither should anyone else. because that would be extremely delusional and sad 😬

when it comes to smut and the darker tropes you mentioned, i personally think those always have a place when it comes to art--i've always been one to gravitate towards media with darker elements. however, this material is meant to be written and consumed by people who are mature enough to separate fact from fiction, and who can recognize what is healthy and realistic and what is simply for entertainment factor. this is why mature media (in all aspects, including dark and sexual) should not be consumed by people who are underage, because without the foundation of maturity and life experience, they could warping their worldview and inviting toxicity into their life, simply because they thought it was normal. the yandere trope? NOT normal nor healthy, folks. the way i see most bdsm fics written? NOT safe, and certainly not accurate. and it's all whatever for entertainment purposes, but for people who are too young to know the difference? too young to realize that romanticizing these relationships irl can be straight up harmful? that can fuck them up.

anyways, i can go on about this, but i haven't even had my coffee yet LOL. just know i'm an adult who is not in the least delusional about what i'm writing and who has a very clear view of what is and isn't real. and if you are too, there's no harm in having fun!

[sailtoafarawayland]

Walk Me Through The Dark (1/1) Alpha/Omega one-shot

Summary: There are no guarantees that life will be easy or happy, but Emma had finally found all that and more in the form of Killian Jones, her best friend, her alpha and mate. She’d forgotten what it was to fear, to run, to have the hope knocked from her body, but she’s about to remember, and so is he.   

Rating: Explicit, read through A/N for trigger warnings, or skip to after the cut for spoiler-free

A big thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for beta reading and supporting this story! 

AO3 or FF

Author’s Note: This is a hurt/comfort omegaverse based fic for CS. It is rated E for a reason. Tags/Trigger Warnings are as follows: Attempted rape/non-con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Heavy Angst, Sexual Assault Recovery

-Walk Me Through The Dark-

Emma hung onto the rail above her as the subway lurched into motion, her long curls falling around her face and giving some sense of privacy in the crowded car. She stared down at the screen on her phone, a soft smile on her face. Tapping a quick reply to Mary Margaret with one finger, she swiped back to the previous screen, selecting Killian's name and letting go of her hold on the rail so she could send him a message. The train swayed and she widened her stance, regaining her balance. Her stomach churned slightly at the motion and she frowned. She shouldn't have eaten the curry from the food truck for lunch, it never sat well.

She tapped send and reached for the support of the rail again.

E: What are you doing for dinner, babe?

Her eyes traveled the length of the car as she waited for his response. He'd mentioned earlier that his latest overhaul may keep him at the ship yard for some late nights, but the picture Mary Margaret had sent – something simmering in red sauce with a crispy layer of cheese – left her wondering what her mate would be doing to feed himself that evening.

Her cell vibrated in her hand.

K: If I'm lucky, there will be some takeaway left in the work fridge, though I'd much rather be enjoying the evening with you, love.

Heat rushed into her cheeks as she read his words, the echo of his voice in her head. He loved his work at the ship yard, and though it had taken her a long time to realize the sincerity of his words, she knew now just how much truth was in them. Despite having a job that he'd long dreamed about, his favorite place to be was always at her side. The way he made her feel, loved and wanted, was a far cry from how she'd felt her entire childhood into her adult life.

E: I miss you too. Don't forget there's leftover alfredo at home, if you end up not staying too late.

E: Looks like MM is making lasagna.

Their apartment wasn't too far from his office, and she hoped the idea of fresh food would lure him away from whatever dried out leavings had been abandoned by his coworkers.

K: Both of those sound very tempting at the moment. Give MM and David my love.

Emma smiled and slipped her phone back into her pocket, settling in for the rest of the ride out to the Nolan's. Friday night dinners had become something of a tradition between the four friends, but things had been so overwhelming at the ship yard lately that Killian missed them more often than he liked. Luckily, his latest overhaul was coming to an end soon, and they were both hoping things would be a bit more manageable.

The car rocked again and Emma swallowed, a sudden wave of nausea creeping up her throat as they moved, something about the steady creaking of the wheels and the sway of the train making her feel sick. Honestly, that was the last time she went with spicy food, it always made her feel off, despite how delicious it was. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers, sweat beginning to dampen her palm, more tightly around the rail, wishing she were anywhere else as the nausea worsened, her stomach churning and cramping. A tingling warmth worked its way up through her body, spreading along her arms and legs. Another cramp twisted deep in her abdomen, and that's when it hit her.

Her heat was coming on early.

Panic surged beneath the burning heat and nausea as she sucked in a deep breath. It was too early, by a week and a half at least. She would have never dared take public transit if she thought there was even a chance...and now she was stuck on the T with a crammed car. Her eyes darted to the digital map above the door, the light that indicated their position creeping along slowly to North Quincy station. They were only a quarter of the way along, and she cursed her luck.

The doctor had warned her more than once that she could end up suffering from unmanageable heats down the road due to her early use of suppressants, but so far she'd escaped having to deal with any of that. She'd thought she was in the clear.

She could feel the instincts that became heightened during her heats start to spike, the panic only making them sharper. She needed to get off this train, the locked doors and windows and the sheer press of people triggering an instinctual need to run, to get to a place that was warm and safe, a place that was familiar – their bed at home with the blankets piled high and smelling of her mate.

She needed Killian.

She needed her Alpha, but he was already too far, and she was stuck on a train heading in the opposite direction.

Another sharp cramp twisted her insides and she bit back a whimper, adrenaline pumping through her veins and sweat beading on her skin as she shifted, stealing a glance at the people surrounding her. Almost everyone seemed unaware of her predicament, which made sense. Her heat was only just at the beginning of its climb, and it was unlikely that betas would notice much difference in the pheromones her body was producing – not this early on. Only alphas and omegas possessed the hyper-sensitive ability to pick out those scents from the air at such an early stage.

Then her eyes fell on the far corner of the car, and she saw him.

He leaned casually into the corner, but his eyes were narrowed and hard, his lips touched by the start of a smile as he realized that she knew he knew. Flexing his shoulders, he lifted his nose to the air and drew in a deep breath, his mouth twisting into a feral grin.

Emma's eyes widened with fear and she snapped her head back down, breathing heavily as a shiver washed over her body, the hair on her neck prickling. That had been a mistake, she realized, looking away – too submissive and sure to goad the strange alpha into action. She should have stared him down, and normally she would have, but somehow, being stuck in a confined space so far from her mate, her heat bearing down on her in a way that was faster and worse than normal – she was utterly terrified.

The man staring her down – she could feel it, even if she refused to look back in his direction – seemed to be a typical alpha from what she'd briefly seen. He wielded his large, bulky frame with the ease of someone used to getting their way and being obeyed, looming over the people beside him with an air of authority. He'd made a show of scenting the air when she'd laid eyes on him, and the fact that he was so blatantly displaying his interest had the taste of bile stinging sharply in the back of her throat.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

She wanted it to be yesterday, before her body betrayed her and she was stuck in this nightmare.

Another cramp twisted in her gut, longer and sharper, her teeth digging into her lip as she tried to hold back the whine she could feel building in her throat – a call that was always answered by the reassuring rumble of her mate, except he wasn't here.

He was too far, and despite the flush of heat consuming her, she was so cold, her body insisting that she needed the warmth and security only he could provide.

She wanted to call him, the urge to do so almost irrepressible, but she knew he'd be a frantic mess, worrying for no reason. As long as the alpha in the corner kept his distance, she'd be fine – and it's not like he was crazy. Her claim mark would have been clearly visible when she turned toward him, and she knew that her scent gland was in overdrive, producing copious amounts of not only her own signals for heat, but the potent scent of her mate as well, broadcasting to any other alphas in the area that she wasn't a free omega. The guy had to know, so she felt reassured that he'd leave her alone.

She had to believe it, because the alternative was too frightening to consider.

No, there was no reason to call her mate and worry him over nothing. She had time. She'd jump out at North Quincy and grab a car straight back home. Then she would call Killian and let him know that he'd need to cut his work night short. If she was lucky, he'd already be there, drawn in by the promise of chicken alfredo.

Sweat slid from her cold grasp on the rail down the inside of her wrist in into her jacket.

She had to believe that everything would be fine, and for a few minutes it felt that way. It was the movement in her peripheral vision that betrayed that hope. The stray alpha was leaving his place at the other end of the car, people parting around him as he made his way closer. His body was tensed as he took another deep whiff of the air around him, a look of impatience on his face.

“Sorry,” Emma stammered, apologizing to the woman she'd accidentally pushed against in her futile effort to put more distance between herself and the threat the man posed.

Another shiver racked her body, adrenaline amplifying every normal inconvenience that her heat brought out – the cramps, the chills, the clawing need for her mate, and with that, the steady rush of slick that was just starting to slip from between her thighs. She wrangled with her own body, fighting for control and losing, her attention so caught up in maintaining some sort of normalcy that she didn't realize the alpha had moved closer until she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, the air around her thickening with a sour, deep musk that was simply wrong.

She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out, instead she fell forward, nearly on top of someone in the seat. She'd just managed to pull her feet back beneath her when she felt a firm hand wrap itself around her bicep, hauling her backward.

“Now, now, Omega,” the man chuckled close in her ear, the heat radiating from his body making her want to vomit. “Seems like you need some help.”

“No,” she ground out, almost unable to hear her own words, the hammering of her pulse in her ears drowning them out. “No. I'm claimed.”

She tore herself out of the man's grip and moved quickly toward the small circle of space near the door, uncaring of the people she elbowed or pushed aside to get there. The map above her was starting the blink, the little bulb beneath N. Quincy Station finally lighting up.

Thank god.

With any luck the man had taken the hint and wouldn't risk making a scene. At this point, there had to be at least one or two others on the car aware of what was happening, and there was no way any sane alpha would risk the trouble he could get into for pushing himself on a claimed omega. She hoped – but her heat always gave her tunnel vision, and the only thing she could think of was Killian, of how badly she needed him and how she'd never felt more vulnerable than in that moment.

The train finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. She'd never moved more quickly in her life, shoving aside the few people that tried to cut her off as she bolted from the train, never even hearing the muttered curses a few commuters send her way.  

Her vision blurred in time with her heart, pinching and expanding as her heat slipped into the next gear. She stumbled forward and leaned heavily against a concrete support not far from the train as another cramp jolted through her core, leaving her nerves tingling in pain. She chanced a look back through the thinning crowd as the doors slid shut, but she didn't see him in the station.

Fearing what she might not see, she looked into the window of the car, but she couldn't make out his bulk there either. He wasn't on the train, but she hadn't seen him in the station either. She would have noticed.

The wave of nausea and cramps passed and she pulled out her cell, punching in Killian's number, her breathing echoing in her ears as she waited for the call to connect. He was at work, and she hardly ever called him there, so of course he picked up immediately, concern tainting the voice she'd needed so desperately to hear.

“Emma, is everything alright, love?”

Hearing his actual voice broke something in her, the wall she'd been holding up out of sheer determination, needing to believe that everything would be fine, that the alpha on the train was just going to forget her – but there was a small, niggling part of her brain warning that she would have seen him in the car if he'd stayed, if he hadn't followed her out.

“Killian,” she whimpered, every bit of that fear communicated through the tremor in her voice, in the way her breath fell in short pants as she moved farther out of the station, her eyes darting to the dark corners around her as she hurried toward the back parking lot.

“Emma,” he rushed, his voice laced with dread. “Emma, where are you? What's wrong?”

“My heat, it's early,” she muttered. “I was on the train when it hit. It's bad...”

“I'm coming to get you. What station?”

She nearly dropped the phone as another cramp rocked her, more slick cooling her thighs and dampening her jeans, her breath cut short as she struggled upright again.

“Emma!” Killian snapped just as she brought the phone back to her ear. “What station, Emma?”

“North Quincy. Killian...there was an alpha on the train.”

She could hear the sharp intake of his breath, something in the background dropping to the ground.

“Emma, I'm coming. Can you stay where there are people?”

“I don't know if he followed me,” she admitted, finally saying the thing she hadn't wanted to confront aloud. She hadn't seen him as the station emptied out around her, but there was no denying the odor of his musk that still drifted toward her occasionally. She wanted to believe it was lingering from where he'd wrapped his sweating hand around her arm, but she couldn't be sure. “There's no one here,” she whispered, blanching when she finally realized how far she'd walked in her daze. “I'm in the parking lot. I was gonna grab an Uber home.”

“Are there any cabs? Any cars, love?”

“No, it's so empty, Killian. There's no one here...”

“Stay on the line with me, Emma. I'm coming – right now. I'm on my way.”

Her mate's voice was wrecked, cracking with fear that she knew he was trying to keep at bay. In her gut she knew he was probably more frightened than she was, because she at least had the luxury of her heat muting everything it didn't deem important, but he didn't even have that. Entwining with hers, his fear only made her desire to burrow into their bed that much stronger, everything other than her need for him and a safe place dimming slightly. She wanted home, nestled in warmth with his weight on top of her. She'd be so full and sated, content with him curled around her back...

“Emma.”

Killian's voice broke through the fog, strained but firm, and she found herself humming in response, his voice sending a pleasing vibration through her body.

“Omega!” he snapped, and her purr turned into a whine at the sharp tone of displeasure, but his attempt to pull her back to reality worked, and some semblance of clarity came back to her as she hurried further into the parking lot.  

“I'm here – I just...it's bad, Killian. It's coming fast and hard.”

“Just stay with me, love. Look around, do you see the alpha from the train? Did he follow you?”

She turned in place, trying to focus on her surroundings, the sidewalks and the slight glow of the lobby in the empty station, the parked cars and streetlights that cast wide circles of light across the pavement. She didn't see him, but there was this feeling, this warning in her gut that she'd learned to trust.

“I don't see him, but I think...oh, god, I think maybe he did. I don't know. I'm scared, Killian.” She stumbled backwards over the concrete lip of a planted median and grabbed onto the mirror of a car to steady herself. She needed to get farther from the building, someplace dark and hidden and safe – someplace he wouldn't see her. “I have to get out of sight. Maybe he'll just give up...”

“Can you get somewhere with people?”

“Not without going back through the station to the front...there's no one here,” she whispered, the tiny, logical part of her brain still working thinking how insane it was that the parking lot was this empty, like all of her bad luck had saved itself up for one day. “He could be inside still, if I try to go back.”

Just as she was threading her way between two vehicles, her eyes still locked on the station, she saw the silhouette of someone large approaching the doors she'd left mere minutes before, and she knew it was him. Before he could spot her, she dropped to the ground in a crouch, ignoring the sharp cramp that twisted in her gut with every ounce of determination she had left, gritting her teeth and moving farther through the parking lot.

“He's here,” she whispered, sliding her back against the front wheel of a car, her already soaked jeans pressed against the damp pavement. “He's here.”

Everything slowed, her heart beating like a dying drum against her chest, her breath shallow and drawn out on a tremble. She tightened her grip as her phone nearly tumbled from her sweat-slicked hand, her mouth dry with the taste of bile and metal.

He was going to find her. He would find her, and there would be nothing she could do.

The pain in her stomach had doubled, her body caught between fear and desperation, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand, let alone run.

“I'm coming. I'm almost there, I promise. I'm not going to let him hurt you, okay? Just stay quiet, love. Please, just stay with me, Emma.”

He was too far, so far.

“I'm here,” she breathed. “Killian...I'm so scared.”

For a moment there was nothing more than the sound of his wrecked breathing and her quiet pants. Her hearing was sharpened, but she didn't hear any footsteps, didn't know if she even would over the rapid flutter of her pulse in her ears. There was a chance, if she had any luck left, that he'd glanced out the door and hadn't seen her. Maybe he was gone.

She exhaled and the air around her finally shifted, a gust of wind sweeping over the lot and cooling her heated skin. She almost sighed, the relief it brought making her forget for a second that she was drenched with slick, feverish and freezing at the same time – but then she smelled him, the alpha from the train.

He was close, the scent strong and just starting to deepen with notes of an alpha in rut, but nothing about it was heady and intoxicating like her own mate's. It was all wrong, and something feral in her snarled, wanting nothing to do with the male following her.

“Killian,” she broke, her whispered words nearly a cry, tears mixing with sweat as she realized her time was up, her vision blurring.

If she could smell the alpha, then he could smell her.

He would find her.

“Emma, I'm so close. I'll find you, I promise.”

“Killian, I love –”

Her phone clattered to the pavement at her feet, her words stolen as a strong hand grabbed her arm, ripping her up from where she'd been hiding. A pained yelp flew from her mouth as her shoulder twisted painfully, the world spinning as she was pinned against the hood of the car, a heavy body covering her back.

Her attacker's face pushed roughly into the crook of her neck, scenting her with a groan. She shuddered, squirming beneath him, her cries muffled as the suffocating weight of his arm pressed into her face. She sucked in meager, burning gulps of air, vomit rising in the back of her mouth as his tongue swept over the claim mark on her neck.  

“You really gave me a chase,” the alpha groaned, his hips rutting against her backside, thrusting her own sore and cramping body into the wheel well. “I like a good chase though, and I've never smelled anything like you before.”

Twisting as much as she was able, she latched her teeth into an exposed section of his hand, her stomach lurching as the taste of blood filled her mouth, his angered snarl cutting across the dark parking lot. For a brief second the pressure eased and Emma hoped she might have a chance, but before she could even draw in a full breath he was back on her, changing his hold and wrapping his bloody fingers around the back of her neck instead. Cold air whipped between their lower bodies and she screamed as his other hand moved to her jeans, her knees banging against metal as she struggled.

“You don't know your place, Omega,” he growled, enjoying her whimper of pain as he pushed her more forcefully against the car, the sound of his zipper making her freeze. “I'll teach you. You'll thank me too. By the end you'll be begging for my knot.”

He kept talking, but his words were slipping away, everything moving farther away – even the piercing noise that Emma thought might have been her own screams, but she didn't know. She couldn't breathe, let alone scream. His fingers were tugging at her zipper, the wet, stubborn material of her jeans scrunching slowly down her hips.

She fought, struggled through the heavy fog settling around her. She didn't want this. It was all wrong. Not her mate, not Killian.

Then the world collapsed around her, lights and sounds finally folding into nothingness like a house of cards as her attacker grew more impatient, her body rocking against the car with each jerk as he struggled to lower the soaked material down her body, her position making it near impossible for him to get the jeans low enough with one hand.

Everything felt so distant, her breath on the hood of the car spreading like smoke and then fading away.

Then in a sudden rush the world snapped back to her, the hot weight against her back and fumbling hands torn away – the sound of something crashing into metal. The sound of a struggle as something was dragged across the pavement, grunts and curses and the sound of a fist hitting something over and over. There were voices now, shouts that come to her like a light through the fog. The sound of her jacket dragging against metal as she slumped to the ground. The sound of her sneakers pushing back gravel, and then the sound of her own voice as her knees hit the pavement.

“Killian,” she rasped, smelling him before she saw him, movement and light and clarity returning to her just as he rushed to her side, his blue eyes shining with tears and his hand, bloodied and swollen, moving to cup her face as he pulled her from the ground, as if she weighed nothing.

To him she never had.

She wanted to cry, finally enveloped by the heat and the scent and the person she needed, her hands twisting in his shirt as she strove to somehow get closer. Sensing her need, Killian shifted her carefully, juggling her in his arms as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her and shielding her in safety and comfort. His sweat and musk were soaked into the material, his scent flooding her, calming her frayed nerves and the part of her that still wanted to jump and kick at every noise reaching her ears.

His body was shaking with adrenaline, the tremors vibrating through her. She nestled against him, rubbing her cheek and neck along his skin in the way she knew would stir her own scent gland, easing his worry and calming him. She felt him settle around her, but then he started to move, growling out something unintelligible – it was then that she realized there must be people standing nearby. He paused and she clung to him tightly, his arms responding in kind. Fear crawled along her spine at the thought someone might be trying to separate them. From a gap in his jacket she could see the flicker of lights, red and blue against the metallic sheen of the cars. She knew he must be talking with a cop, that help had come, but she couldn't focus on the words.

Now that she was where she should be, the reality of her heat was falling back over her like a familiar weight.

The gentle swagger of his body resumed and there was the sound of a car door opening – a brief moment of terror when he let her go, her response immediate and frantic, but then he was back at her side, scooping her from the seat and back into his lap as he barked their address at whoever was driving.

The car pulled away, the fog of fear lessening and eventually falling away from her entirely as she basked in the comfort that was her mate, his arms wrapped solidly around her as he whispered her name over and over into her hair, his fingers caressing her sweat-soaked skin and soothing the writhing need inside of her, wordless promises that she wouldn't feel aching and empty for long, that he would take care of her.

~ * ~ * ~

She isn't sure how long the trip back home takes, but every moment she slides further away from the trauma she'd been put through and into the instinctual need that feels like it just may rip her apart. She's bathed in the scent of her mate – the deep, spicy musk heavy on his skin, laced with notes of sea salt and sweetness and something unique only to him. It's everything she's ever needed. Adrenaline and fear had triggered his rut in the same way they'd worsened her heat, and the familiar intoxicating tang that it edged his scent with was driving her wild with need, slick pooling once more between her legs as she core throbbed violently.

Her attack seems so distant, and far less important than finally getting into the privacy of their own home, to the place where her mate can soothe her and give them what they both desperately need. She wriggles in his lap, unable to hold back the needy plea that she presses into his skin, delighting in the low growl vibrating through his chest as he tightens his grip. Words are snapped at the driver and then Killian is tipping them both to the side as he digs into his pocket. A moment later the car slows to a stop and he's tossing something onto the front seat before easing them outside, her body still caged tightly within his arms.

His jacket is still draped over her, his arms holding it in place, but the collar had settled around her neck and she looks up into his stormy eyes, his pupils blown-wide, just as surely as her own are. There's an unquenchable need there, but below it she sees the fear, the regret and guilt, the anger. Her fingers drift up and cradle the tense line of his jaw, stroking until his muscles unclench, hoping he understands that everything is alright, everything will be alright.

They're together, and she's never felt more safe than she does right now.

He doesn't put her down, not once, despite the struggle it gives him in getting into the apartment, but she doesn't want him to, doesn't think she could stand to be separated for even an instant. She knows there are a lot of things to be said, to be asked, to be cried over, but right now she can't think past tearing off all of the layers that are keeping them apart.

They don't make it farther than the entryway, the door slamming shut behind them as he fingers the offending material of her jacket, the stench of the other alpha still wafting from the wool into the air. When he peels it carefully from her body, clearly resisting the urge to tear it from her, she sighs in relief, shrugging off the weight of it as he tosses it violently across the room.

Killian normally loves taking his time with his mate, using his fingers and mouth to bring her to completion before finally giving in to the crushing need to fill her and knot her, but her need is too great right now, too desperate, and his sudden rut is making it near impossible for him to walk her to the bedroom, let alone take care of her in the way he wants – to sit her down and ask what he can do, what she needs – he knows that she needs this, and he'll give it to her, to them both.

“Alpha...” she begs, suddenly falling to the floor at his feet, her chest pressed against his legs as she rubs her cheek against his crotch, her fingers trembling as she struggles to undo the button of his pants “...need you, Alpha.”

The air between them is thick with the mix of their scents, his blood pounding in his ears, need and fear and desire rolling together like some wild thing, the sweet scent of her slick so strong he can taste it on his tongue, wants to taste it on her soaked flesh.

“Omega,” he rasps, his vision sharpening to see her and only her, his cock hard and throbbing and every instinct in his body telling him that his omega needs him, that only he can give her what she craves. His hands settle tightly on her shoulders, turning her gently on the entryway carpet. “Present for your Alpha.”

Small, expectant whimpers tremble from her throat as she drops to her belly and slides her knees up behind her, her fingers hastily grabbing her rumpled jeans and pushing the sodden material over her ass and down her thighs, wriggling her legs to get them to her knees as an overpowering wave of her scent plows into him.

The sight of her sex, swollen and exposed, presented so wantonly in the air for him has his knot swelling at the base of his cock, his pulse racing as he shoves his jeans down his own legs and kneels behind her, holding the beast in him at bay so he can snatch one last human moment before he's lost completely, burying his mouth in her folds and greedily lapping her juices up, his tongue sweeping every inch he can reach before he pulls back with a growl, images flashing through his head – another alpha's hands on her, another male scenting her, imagining what she would feel like.

Somewhere in the back of his brain he knows that this isn't about that, but gods he needs to feel her to know that she's really there, that they're both here and he made it to her in time, that he didn't let her down completely when she needed him most, that she needs him in this way just as urgently as he needs her.

“Emma,” he whispers, her excited pants driving him on as he pulls back and hovers behind her, the swollen head of his cock throbbing against her scorching folds as his hands settle on her hips, “my Omega...”

“God, yes, yours, Alpha, always yours...”

“Mine.”

And then he's burying himself inside of her, her walls seizing around him the instant he does, her cries of his title and name muffled in the carpet as she gyrates her hips, trying to impale herself further. He wants to savor that first, heavenly wave of pleasure that sinking into her always brings, but the beast inside of him is unrelenting, needing to remind the both of them that she is his, and he is hers. Everything other than the ecstasy of their joining and her delicious noises falls away from him, lost beneath the haze of instincts he can't escape – his hips pistoning as he drags his cock from her grasping channel and thrusts back in, slick running freely from his omega and soaking the floor beneath them as she begs and pleads for all of him.

“Is that what you want, Omega,” he pants, the wet sounds of him pulling out and driving back into her filling the air, her firm ass bouncing as he rams into her again and again. “You need your Alpha's knot?”

“Please, Alpha, please, need it so bad,” she mumbles, her words running one over the next as she lets out a moan and shudders around him, so close to falling apart, but needing the fullness of his knot stretching her. “Just yours, just yours, Alpha...”

She tries to struggle upward, unable to shake the urge to feel her alpha covering her completely, his chest pressed against her back as he thrusts into her, claiming her entirely and leaving no inch of her body unmarked by his firm hold and powerful scent. She's shaking, her limbs barely able to support her own weight as he continues to plow into her, his knot fully swollen and catching the edges of her opening with each push deeper, but he senses what she needs, that the separation between them is too much, and he pauses for a second to move his hands from her hips, grabbing her arms and yanking her upper half closer, their two bodies bent together as he pulls her tightly against his chest, swallowing her small frame entirely as he holds her up, his rut bringing with it a strength that doesn't answer to weariness, but only to need.

His grunts are hot and rhythmic against her neck as he moves within her, his teeth sharper and gently razing the swollen gland that already bears his claim mark, sweat running from both of their bodies and sliding between them. Still riled by the threat to his omega, the beast inside of him is wild and frenzied, driving him to mark her again, to claim her once more – the only thing that will sate him. Beneath him her whimpers spiral into something keening and primal, her legs trembling despite the fact that he's holding both of them suspended as he thrusts, and he knows she's almost there, can feel her swollen walls spasming around him.

He slides one hand down her stomach, changing their angle and forcing himself deeper, his knot brushing further within her swollen walls as they begin to pulse around him.

“Mine, Omega...” he growls, completely lost to the beast as she keens beneath him in answer.

She is his, always his.

“Need it, need it, Alpha, please,” she cries, her walls pulling at the throbbing edge of his knot with each teasing thrust. “Need to feel you fill me up, make me yours, please...”

“Open up for me,” he pants against her skin, his teeth gliding down to clamp around the swell of her shoulder. He moves his hand lower and rubs against her clit, his calloused fingers pinching roughly, his words like liquid sin rolling over her, his cock thick and hard and stretching her in all the right ways, everything flowing and surging together in a brutal wave that crashes over her all at once, her vision fading and slipping into darkness as she shakes beneath him – the familiar sting of his teeth marking her shoulder a vibrant shock of blinding light beneath her lids, drawing every last pulsing moment of rapture from her body.

He thrusts into her one final time, his own peace finding him as he forces the swell of his knot into her tight sheath, the coil in his gut snapping and exploding outward as pleasure rocks his body, her walls milking every last drop of his seed – the beast inside of him quelled.

They come down together, Emma collapsing as he releases her shoulder and cushions her fall with his arms, stifling a groan at the pull between them where he's tightly joined with her still. He carefully maneuvers them to their sides on the damp carpet, Emma's breath leaving her in a gasp as the movement shifts him within her slightly, her walls shivering around him and drawing a last spasm from his still hard member.

“Killian,” she whispers, her voice tired yet serene, her head rolling against his chest so their lips can find one another. “Alpha...”

There are a few blissful minutes where their bodies breath as one, sighs traded between their lips and fingers tracing heated skin, but then the fog of need disperses and the weight of the evening falls back onto them, her body shaking in his embrace.

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, wishing he could pull her more comfortably into the safety of his arms, or that he’d spared a thought to getting them to the bedroom before they’d joined. 

She reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressing small kisses into his skin, her tears running along her cheeks and into his palm as she weeps. He tries to hold and comfort her as best he can, his own tears darkening her hair as he presses her closer, whispering soft noises between them. He wants to tell her how sorry he is that he wasn’t by her side, that he hadn’t been able to prevent that monster from ever laying a hand on her, but he knows saying the words won’t make them true, and the last thing he wants to do is burden her with his own failings. With no words strong enough to soothe the hurt that’s been done to her, he simply offers what he can with his presence. As soon as their bodies slip apart, she’s turning into him, burying her face in the warmth of his chest and sighing into his embrace, neither of them sure of the next steps to take, or where those steps might take them.   

~  * ~ * ~

It was never going to be easy – taking broken things and making them resemble what they once did never is, but its almost impossible when a new, jagged memory sits among the rest, waiting to find its place.

It wasn't easy the first week that swung violently between frantic couplings and emotional upheaval, a man and woman in uniform sitting opposite their couch as Emma recounted what happened, her hands gripping Killian's like a lifeline. He sat on the edge of the cushion, his body slanted between her and the police. Still mid-rut, his instincts to protect and shield her were at war with the man who understood she needed to tell her story, to do what she could to put the monster who had assaulted her behind bars.  

It didn't get any easier the next week when her body finally gasped and released its need, her heat dissipating and leaving her an empty, broken shell that every happiness seemed to run straight through, spilling on the floor.

And none of the hours, or days, or weeks that came after were better. She'd wake at night with the memory of hands on her arm, pressing against her neck – the wrong hands – but there was never more than a second of panic before she was wrapped in the rightness that was her mate, her fears soothed if only for a few moments.

It wasn't easy when she sat on the couch with her therapist, sometimes talking, and sometimes saying nothing at all, but always wondering if those pieces she'd been broken into would ever amount to the strong, capable woman she used to be, or if that one dark piece meant they'd stay forever on the floor, waiting for the next blow that would crush them into an even finer dust.

It wasn't easy for Killian either, not the first week when he bent to the instincts they were both driven by, man warring with pure, primal need, unable to do anything but give in, but fearful that it was too much too soon – both the man and the beast left rabid with fury when the police informed them that while they suspected her attacker had a similar history in other cities, without corroboration or a record, he'd most likely be able to bargain down to a slap on the wrist.

It didn't get any easier after their rut and heat ended, reality slipping through their doorway as they searched for a new normal that didn't disturb the broken pieces that littered the floor and met them each day in the mirror. Killian confided that he'd decided to walk home for dinner when she mentioned the leftovers, that if he hadn't, if he'd decided to stay at the office, he was terrified to think of how much longer it would have taken him to get to her – how one little decision had meant so much. What other decision could he make that would be the wrong one?

None of the hours, day, or weeks that followed were better, waking from his own nightmares to comfort his mate, images he'd never forget still etched behind his closed eyes as Emma shuddered in his arms – the police holding him back from a scene he didn't want to see, Emma bloodied and broken on the ground because he'd taken too long to reach her, because she was a fighter, because he'd failed her.

He'd finally agreed to see someone, to try to find a way just as Emma was, but even then the weight of fixing things felt like a burden he'd crumble beneath, one infinitesimal crack away from shattering. How could he take the guilt, the anger, the resentment, the fear and wrap them up neatly into something that wouldn't drag him down with each step he took? How could he be there for Emma if he couldn't hold himself up? How could he forgive himself?

It wasn't easy, and it took more days and months than they could count, some of them passing in moments of brightness and others lingering like a sickness they couldn't shake, but they had each other. They had help, and gradually, like seasons shifting, the minutes between dark moments grew a little longer, the days between nightmares stretched.

It was months before they took anything but a car to get around Boston, and even then never alone. Emma still hated confined spaces, leaving the doors open to every room she was in, even at work or home, and neither of them were as comfortable with long absences than they once were. When Killian mentioned a transfer to a small ship yard in New York, Emma could see through his reassurances that he would be happy there. She knew his heart, and she also knew hers, so she knew it wasn't right for them.

This was their home, and she wasn't going to let that monster take it away from her, from Killian, from the future they'd always envisioned here.

So they fought for it, through the days that were easy and the ones that weren't, which a year later were few and far between, and on the day that Emma told Killian they would need to move his office out of the spare room, it had never been easier to forget that brief moment of darkness in the face of so much light and promise.

And on the day they painted it a beautiful sea-blue that peeked through the slats of the crib Killian had put together himself, they barely ever thought of all those broken pieces – the few that still lingered were familiar and softened by time, as ingrained into the foundation of who they were now as anything whole – instead, they chose to look ahead to where there was a happy beginning to a new story – and above all else, there was Hope.

[caffiine]

A BRIEF PAUSE

From my regularly scheduled content. I’ve got some shit to say, y’all (forewarning for spicy language and spoilers)

I thought about making this post on my fandom subblog but this show and this relationship have been TOO important to me for the past 8 years to not give it its proper place in my life. strap in bc im not sure how long this mf is about to be.

When i started this DUMB show at age 19 tortured soul “empath” dark academia me thought sam winchester was going to be my favourite character. and don’t @ me, i love sam now in his own right (and we deserve some SAILEEN PEOPLE). but after literally less than 5 episodes i KNEW dean’s character and his arc were going to be amazing and beautiful and he immediately became my favourite brother. The nuances of his character i.e. his shell vs his true self were so evident to me even in the first couple seasons. in my humble opinion, he had the most growth of the two brothers.

They all deserve to be happy, but for whatever FUCKING reason dean has the HARDEST TIME OF ANYONE being happy in this show. I know it’s his character. I know it was written that way. But FFS.  I kept wondering when they were going to wrap up his emotional arc and stop torturing the poor dude.

then in season 4 they introduced castiel and 1) I thought the new concept of angels as assholes was super cool and 2) I hardcore SIMPED over misha collins (still do). I watched benignly as cas and dean began to form this relationship that seemed pretty special. I started watching the show when it was in its eighth season and I binged the shit out of it for two weeks until I was caught up. By the time I was caught up I was CERTAIN there were some feelings between them and I LOVED it. I am bisexual and I was ECSTATIC for a potential queer relationship between two masculine-portrayed dudes. I went on tumblr to express my newfound theory, only to find out that this was a real THING. “Destiel” was already an idea that had absolutely and intensely BLOSSOMED in the fandom  for several seasons already. So many others saw what I saw and saw the potential of emotionally tortured/constipated “daddy’s blunt instrument” dean and the unfeeling daddy’s boy cas “crack in his chassis” Winchester being allowed to be happy together. I felt validated and hopeful. For a while.

Then it was season after season of hopefulness for them to be finally happy with each other while still fighting the ills of their world with sam and the other new members of their family that were added along the way, only to constantly have that hope seemingly teased away at the end every single time. By season 11 and the introduction of amara (not bashing, eventually loved her character and her development too) I gave up. I lost hope. I stopped watching the show. I didn’t want to keep watching my two favourite characters continuously abused by the story they were thrown into.

I know not everyone likes destiel, not everyone thought it was real. That’s chill, idc. Stories are so often meant to be (and sometimes inadvertently) left up to interpretation by the person experiencing and consuming them. It’s what’s so amazing about books and shows and movies that are able to make us feel so intensely about them and their characters. And I felt SO strongly about dean and cas. It was honestly really upsetting to me, the way the show was going with their relationship.

A while later season 13 had been going on and I started seeing some things pop up on my dash. Hopeful things. I did a bit of research and accidentally saw THE SCENE from season 12 and I couldn’t help myself. I restarted it. I watched the whole thing from the beginning again AND introduced it to my boyfriend I think partially as a way to ensure I wasn’t imagining shit (it took him awhile and a lot of me internally screaming during many scenes but by season 9 he was like “uh are they in gay love”). Fast forward to me finally catching up as season 14 was starting. I was still hopeful, somehow. And it happened AGAIN. Season 14 and the beginnings of 15 made me so sad. I HATED what they did with their relationship. I HATED the way it ended. I HATED the way dean treated cas and everyone around him. It felt like the show was taking his whole character arc back to day 1. I didn’t understand. I kept watching for a couple episodes after the big argument and cas left but the luster was gone and eventually I just stopped.

I love this show. It has meant so much to me as a story. So many of the characters are/were very dear to me. I know it’s a running joke with this show about character deaths and homophobia but the strength of the bond I felt was between cas and dean gave me a lot of hope. But it wasn’t enough. I felt betrayed one too many times. And for those of you who kept watching, for whatever reason, I don’t hold it against you. It’s still a beautiful and interesting story without cas and dean’s relationship. But I just personally couldn’t do it anymore.

I hadn’t planned on watching the rest of season 15 when it came back after pandemic hiatus, at least not for awhile. So imagine my FUCKING surprise when I was doom scrolling through twitter during election week on Thursday and I see supernatural trending right along with election shit.

What.

I couldn’t stop myself, I looked and literally SCREAMED and made my boyfriend spill his wine all over our couch. I didn’t know exactly what happened as I hadn’t seen the episode but APPARENTLY all my emotions and feelings had been at least partially vindicated. So I BOUGHT season 15 so I could finish watching where I had left off. I watched 8 episodes in less than 24hrs (don’t judge me there’s a quarantine) and I LIKED them. And it might’ve been bc I knew what was about to happen in 15 x18 but I really felt like the show was getting STRONGER as it neared its finish.

I was so excited for 15x19. I read so many posts from fellow fans, destiel and antis alike. There really weren’t a lot of bad emotions running around. Everyone seemed hopeful and excited like me.

I probably don’t need to go over 15x19 emotions but im going to anyway. I was disappointed. I was confused. I was angry. we are in season 15. The last season ever for this show that has had a HUGE following of fans who have loved it, sometimes unconditionally, sometimes even though it wasn’t the best (and sometimes less than good). A season and show that had just announced YES. CAS LOVES DEAN. ITS REAL. And I shouldn’t have to go over the nuances of why we would expect more after this, with two episodes to go before the show is done forever.

But I will bc im mad af.

Like I said in the beginning. Dean’s character arc has been incredible. His emotional growth – as subtle as it might’ve seemed – has been amazing. And dean has always been an emotional, loving person. he just felt like he wasn’t because the world made him feel that way. And that’s sad, y’all. Dean deserves to realize he DESERVES happiness. And in 15x18, we were finally heading basically directly there. With destiel, yes, but even if you’re anti, what cas said to dean about who he is and why he loves him obviously struck a fucking chord with dean. It obviously changed the way he viewed himself (RE: “that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are”).

But for WHATEVER reason that’s ALL we got in 15x19. One fucking SENTENCE about dean realizing maybe he’s not just built to kill people. And then jack leaves without a single mention of Eileen or cas or Charlie or literally anyone they ever cared about and dean rode off into the sunset alone with his brother while we watched a fucking FIVE MINUTE MONTAGE that made me want to hurl my own body into the sun they were driving toward. And cas is STILL DEAD.

BUT THERE’S STILL ONE EPISODE LEFT AND FUCK ME IF I HAVENT BEEN PAINTING ON MY CLOWN MAKEUP ALL WEEK. SO WHAT DO I WANT????

ONE: DEAN DESERVES HAPPINESS. REAL HAPPINESS. What the FUCK supernatural??? Wasn’t this the whole point of his arc??? And don’t get me wrong I REALLY want that happiness to come from Cas and a real spoken relationship of some sort between them bc it also ties in with my second point but tbh just PLEASE let dean be happy. Dean is a loving person and does everything for love as we JUST FOUND OUT. Dean would NOT be happy with everyone he’s ever loved gone for the rest of his life. I just don’t believe that’s fucking true. h elp him pls.

TWO: CAS DESERVES HAPPINESS. I know we got this whole speech about “happiness isn’t in the having it’s simply in being”  but like. Really. Castiel was supposed to be a throwaway character no one was supposed to care about. But we all cared SO MUCH that he lasted 11 SEASONS longer than intended and became a main character and an integral part of the story. Cas has arguably sacrificed more than anyone on this show. His last act was to sacrifice his life to save the man he loved. He knew where he was going. He knew he was finally going to be able to tell dean he loved him and then immediately be taken by the empty where we know now thanks to season 15 that everyone in there just gets to dream forever about their regrets and sadness. HOW IS THAT FAIR. HOW IS THAT A GOOD ENDING FOR CAS. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ANYONE – CHARACTERS AND FANS ALIKE –TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT. Its messed up, supernatural. Y’all KNOW it is and I hope to HIGH HEAVENS this is going to be corrected in 15x20.

THREE: give sam Eileen back. 

Well that’s all I’ve got in me, folks. I’m absolutely and intensely dreading Thursday. Im scared and nervous and obviously still angry that this is absolutely going to be the opposite of what they promised – another “game of thrones” ending. Some of y’all are giving me hope with your posts about maybe they’re trying to keep the ending a surprise and maybe cas is coming back and how can they not and why else would they have done the second to last episode like that and I hope yall are right.

Either way, im glad I am not alone with my feelings. Thanks yall for the experience of this fandom and show. Let’s stick together on Thursday, no matter our differences.

 PS stop calling jensen ackles a homophobe or ill hex you. 

[nari20]

Hello :)

First of all thank you so much for sharing your wonderful, breathtaking Sailor Moon art with this fandom. I’m a huge fan of every little piece you create.

Some time ago you posted a lovely explanation of the Japanese word ‘Aishiteru’ and I was wondering if you could give me a hint where I could find it.

The background is that I just read a FF on the German SM ff side and realized that the whole scene at the airport could have been misunderstood because of the very poor translation of what Mamoru is telling Usagi after he gave her the ring (normally the translation was pretty good but perhaps the reason why it terribly failed this time was due to the fact that in German there is no appropriate wording for Aishiteru and I wanted to explain what is really going on in this particular scene).

Thank you so much in advance for your help and Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas! I'm glad to hear that you like my stuff!

I looked for that post on "Aishiteru" but couldn't find it, so I'll try to remember what I wrote before! May not be the exact same thing with what I had before but here goes:

When you want to tell someone that you love them in Japanese, you can use both "愛してるaishiteru" and "好きsuki". "Aishiteru" is literally "I love you" and "suki" is "I like you". Now, "suki" is the more commonly used between the two, for example: when you confess your feelings to someone, when telling your bf/gf that you love them, or just talking about a love interest in general - you would say "suki-na-hito(person)", not "aishiteru-hito". So "Suki" is the more commonly used form of "love" and "I love you". Now when it comes to "Aishiteru"... you barely hear it in real life. You would hear it used affectionately among friends etc, but not so often between couples. I've never heard any couple, whether that's my parents, grandparents, friends, tell each other "aishiteru" in my life. It's just one of those words that are not used lightly (I always thought it might be similar to "I love you"s in English and "Je t'aime"s in French from what I've learned from international couples). When I think of the word "Aishiteru", the number one thing that comes to mind is wedding vows. I can't think of any other instances that "Aishiteru"s are used in real life, it's just that rare. Also the Japanese language likes to put things in a not straight forward way, like there was this famous author in the 19C who translated "I love you" to "tsuki ga kirei desune(The moon is very pretty today)" because apparently he thought "愛Ai" was too strong a word.

So yeah, when we hear Mamoru tell Usagi "Aishiteru" in that airport scene, you know he means a lot more than "Kay I'm off, I love you!" just with the use of the word "Aishiteru". He deliberately uses it, because it was a very important moment for him, he was going to propose to Usagi.

There! I hope I was able to recreate that post you were looking for!

[weirdthingsphanniessay]

dan and phil stereo live 9 march 2021 thoughts

Re: Dan's "my parents didn't teach me anything / schools should teach life skills etc." discussion

I have been genuinely annoyed by this topic and I wanted to write about it yesterday but then I fell asleep lol. So anyway. I can empathize with Dan, totally. Nobody should have to start living alone without knowing how to do basic things in the household. But honestly... It's a two-way street.

When you move out, you need to accept the responsibility that comes with independence. If your parents failed to teach you something, instead of being upset at the lack of spoon-feeding, maybe you can be the one to initiate and ask them about? What a weird concept, huh? Or you can just look things up on your own? You can make up for anything you missed. But guess what, you *have to* do it. Things won't get done if you're not proactive.

All I'm saying is, don't be helpless. Stop blaming others. If you don't know something, look it up, search for how to do it, ask someone ffs! If you can read and follow instructions, you'll be able find all the information you need and you absolutely don't have to rely on your parents or school to tell you how to fill the dishwasher to survive. There's an endless number of books about housekeeping, cooking, everything. (On the internet, too, these days, there are even YT channels like Dad, How Do I?) You gotta be able to find solutions for problems instead of whimpering just because you weren't explicitly taught what to do in a specific situation. You won't get anywhere if you're unwilling to try.

Besides, I'm honestly very curious how often Dan did chores at home or helped his mom cook etc. before moving out. How does he think his clothes got washed all those years? Never once did he ask his parents about how to do these things? Yeah. I feel like his frustration wasn't really about his parents (not) teaching him stuff, but him being a little shit taking things for granted.

And let me end with that holding a grudge against your parents/school for "not teaching anything" when you're almost 30 (looking at you Dan) is just lame. You gotta grow up and take responsibility for yourself at some point.

The reason why I wrote all this down because I know many DP fans are younger and I want people to realize that you can't expect others to hand you everything on a silver platter. Don't expect school to teach you everything either. Be willing to learn and learn to find solutions to problems. Help yourself. That's what independence is.