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seriouslycromulent · 1 month ago

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Leave it Star Trek to remind me how much we're worth fighting for

Note: This is a going to be a long, nerdy post. You have been warned.

So a couple of weeks ago, I purchased tix to attend the Star Trek: New Jersey fan convention scheduled to take place during the 2nd week in November. The idea at the time was that I would not only get to see some of my favorite people from my favorite fandom, but the entire event would likely have some amazing energy following the week of the US election.

But then, we had the election that we had, and ... well.

Here we are.

Thankfully, everyone was determined to make the best of the event, and the nerds in attendance were all still fairly respectful, patient and excited to be there.

Now gone are the days when I would try to do as much as possible at cons because I'm an old Trekker. For me, simply being in the space and enjoying the Q&A panels is enough. What can I say? I'm a cheap date.

However, I told myself that if I saw a souvenir that I simply had to have, I gave myself permission to buy it. But otherwise, I wanted to try to keep my spending under control.

Plus, I've already seen many of these beautiful performers at conventions past, so the pull of the autograph or photo op isn't as strong as it used to be. For example, the only members of the TNG cast I've never seen at a con (Michael Dorn and Gates McFadden) sadly weren't doing a Q&A until Sunday and I only attended on Saturday, but it was great to see them at their tables signing and talking to fans nonetheless.

OK. Enough preamble. Let's dive in while the memories are still fresh.

_______

Warning: Most of photos here are awful. But they stand as proof that I was there, so I'll take it.

If you're not a fan of a particular Trek series, feel free to skip that section. I added the names of each series the guests were associated with before their respective parts.

Deep Space 9 🌠

As I mentioned, I didn't buy any photo ops or autographs, but I sat in on a lot of panels. I really enjoyed seeing some of the ST: DS9 cast members together (Casey Biggs, Terry Farrell, Max Grodenchik, Vaughn Armstrong, and Jeffrey Combs). Max, Jeffrey and Casey talked the most, and fun was had by all.

Max and Casey seemed to have the bulk of the stories to share. Some of the stories were funny; some were just good-natured mocking of each other.

One question I remember someone asked to Terry was about shooting the DS9 episode "Trials and Tribble-ations" and the technical work involved with trying to get everything to match with the green screen and the original series plate. Farrell said they had a lot of fun shooting that episode even though everything had to be very precise.

Another fan asked about why they (the cast) thinks the character development on DS9 is so good [compared to other Trek series]. A question I loved because that's one of of the reasons DS9 is my favorite of all the Treks. The series objectively did a much better job of giving their characters realistic growth and development.

I believe Casey Biggs fielded the answer to this one though. He said that essentially because DS9 was sandwiched between TNG's ending, TNG films, and Voyager's first seasons, the studio (Paramount) didn't really pay that much attention to DS9 and forgot about them while constantly fiddling with the other two. He said one of the advantages to being the "red-headed stepchild" of the Trek universe was that it allowed the writers to tell the stories they wanted to tell without the studio constantly giving them notes on what to change. This gave executive producer Ira Steven Behr the space to develop the characters the way he wanted and tell the stories the way he planned them for each season.

Most of the remaining fan questions -- along with the detailed stories in response -- just reminded me of how I need to do a complete rewatch of DS9.

With that said, the sound in the venue was unfortunately not great, and the echo around the space was annoying. You really had to pay attention and listen with every cilia in order to focus on the responses. But overall, it was still a fun experience.

If they do this again in this area of NJ, I would recommend holding the con in a ballroom with a carpeted floor and non-metallic fixtures all over the space.

Strange New Worlds 🛸

That lovely panel was followed by our ST: SNW duo Q&A with Anson Mount and Ethan Peck, which had the single best question asked in any of the panels that took place on Saturday. A young fan who caught onto Ethan's subtle allusion to the IDIC vision of Star Trek in a previous answer, stepped up to the mic and asked Anson and Ethan the following:

[Note: I'm paraphrasing]

"If Starfleet believes in the concept of IDIC -- Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations -- and the Vulcans are one of the founding members of Starfleet, why do all the Vulcans have the same boring haircut?"

To which, both Anson and Ethan said was the absolute best question they've ever been asked at a con. Ethan then kind of dropped a wee bit of spoiler about an upcoming episode of SNW where Capt. Pike will go undercover as a Vulcan, and he interestingly will not have the standard Vulcan haircut we all know and love.

Again, sorry for the awful photos. I was in the General Admission section and the camera on my phone isn't that great from afar.

There were a few good questions in this panel, but I think the biggest takeaway for us nerds is that Anson Mount is a new pottery enthusiast and he has taken up making pottery for his fellow castmates as gifts. He originally bought the potter's wheel for his wife, but after she only used it once, he decided to give it a try and he loves it.

So now we know that the "Man of 1000 Exasperations" both likes beekeeping and throwing pots. He used to teach acting and theater classes in NYC. And his secret to great onscreen hair is to not wash it too often. (I learned that from a Hell on Wheels interview from a few years back.)

Personally, I wish I could've thought of the question that came to me after the con ended a little bit sooner, then maybe I would've had a chance to walk to the mic and ask it. Although with all the pre-fan question chatter that the MC/host engaged in, maybe not.

My question was going to be about Anson's experience working on the Dr. Strange 2: Multiverse of Madness with Sir Patrick and Cumberbatch. I know it's not ST related, but I was very happy to see him pop up in a Marvel movie (even if his demise is gruesome and awful) and it was great to see 2 Star Trek captains play superheroes on the big screen.

ST Merch Tables 💸

Moving on, after the SNW panel, I took a break to go walk around some of the merch tables before settling on the floor in the lobby area to charge my phone, share some pics with some friends & family, and people-watch all the folks in awesome cosplay.

I did stumble across a lovely souvenir to take home with me at one of the merch tables. I rationalized that it was ok because it was both geeky and practical. I bought this cute flash drive that looks like a cork to a wine bottle with Picard's vineyard logo on it. Although, to be fair, for $20 I feel like it should be more than 64 GB. But oh well. It's still cute.

After that, I headed back into the main Q&A room to watch the Costume Contest, followed by arguably biggest headliner of that day's panels (no shade at Ms. Ryan or her fanbase -- which was robust). The 3:45pm panel featured two not-so-young whippersnappers by the name of Jonathan Frakes and Brent Spiner.

But first the Costume Contest.

Costume Contest 🖖🏽

There were a lot of participants into the Costume Contest, but not so many that there weren't some clear standouts. Plus, I love the fact there were a lot of fans dressed in ST uniforms from all the different eras and styles who didn't even entire the contest. I saw everything from TOS uniforms to DSC uniforms. Plus, a number of cool nonhumans.

Not to be outdone, there were a number of Andorians at the event, and I think all of the entered the contest. And there was not a bad one in the bunch. I think my favorite was the Andorian woman with the bottle of ale hanging from her belt.

There were also a lot of creative one-offs. One couple costume entry was dressed as Shaxs and Dr. T'Ana from ST: Lower Decks. That got a big fan reaction. And there was also a family dressed as the creatures from Farpoint Station at the end of the ST: TNG premiere. It was 2 parents and their little kid, and they all were very cute.

My favorites in the contest were the woman who dressed as Jaylah from Star Trek Beyond. Her makeup and outfit were very well done. If it were up to me, she would've come in 3rd place. (Unfortunately, I didn't get a good photo of her.)

Instead, the actual 3rd place winner would've been my 2nd place choice. It was a woman dressed as the oil slick creature, Armus, from the "Skin of Evil" episode of TNG. She even had a little Riker figurine sitting on her shoulder, like he was sinking into the slime.

And 1st place went to the fan who seemed to be everyone's favorite: a mechanically accurate Borg. To be fair, not everything in his suit moved, but there was a lot detail, and clearly, a lot of work that went into that costume. And with each elimination round, he kept staying near the top, so it felt fair that he won overall.

There was also a really great Borg Queen costume as well. If it were up to me, I would've had her as my Honorable Mention. So to recap, my picks were:

Realistic Borg

Armus

Jaylah

Borg Queen

Another great costume that didn't make it into the final round, but did get an enthusiastic response from the other fans was a woman in a wheelchair who was pushed by her friend around the convention & merch hall. She carried a sign that said, "The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new kidney!" It was so freaking adorable and made a lot of folks laugh. Eve Smith, the actress who played the roll in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, was such a delight whenever she showed up in TV and films in the 80s and 90s. I think she would've gotten a kick out of people remembering her small, but delightful performance so many years later.

Overall, it was pretty decent costume contest. Again, the sound in the space was not the best, but it seems like most people enjoyed it.

The Next Generation 🚀

Now on to the biggest -- in terms of personality -- panel of the day! Jonathan Frakes and Brent Spiner came out to huge applause, as expected. And even though the hall was pretty full already, even more people made their way inside the curtained off area as the duo were getting settled in.

Although, it's fair to say that they didn't really settle at all. Has Frakes ever settled in at any convention?

I'm not one to diagnose from the stands, but man, did Jonathan seem a wee bit "caffeinated" on stage. And I mean that in the best sense. He was funny as usual. Engaging. Silly. He came with the behind-the-scenes anecdotes and playful shots at his castmates and friends. But getting him to focus for more than 3 minutes was like watching someone try to wrangle a kindergartener on the playground after lunch.

Jonny kept asking Brent to do his Patrick Stewart impression, which he was more than happy to do throughout the Q&A, and then Jonathan became fascinated by a marquee advertisement that had all the faces of the actors who are a part of the convention tour on it, and he kept walking over to it to "complain" about the order of the faces on the marquee.

Of course, all of this was in good fun! But the man definitely did not feel like sitting still for very long, and as a result, the 2 of them only answered like 4 or 5 fan questions tops.

It didn't help that we had not 1, but 2 groups of special guests interrupt join the boys on stage during their mere 45 min-panel. First, came the always dynamic and fearless Marina Sirtis, who was quickly joined by Michael Dorn. Marina plugged a new series that she's working on, and Michael came on to just chill and make fun of Marina. (Don't read into that too much! They had a Q&A scheduled together for Sunday.)

So after Marina and Michael joked around a bit with Brent and Jonny, there were a couple more questions from fans and other shenanigans. Then, the lovely Tawny Newsome and Eugene Cordero from ST: Lower Decks came out bearing gifts of water for our power duo like lowly interns working in a megacorporation.

Their plan was to steal a little air time from the headliners, but they ended up getting invited to stay and shoot the breeze with Jonny and Brent for a large part of the Q&A. And at one point, Dawnn Lewis came out as well to join them.

I honestly don't remember any of the questions from this panel. I do remember there was a bit of singing from Jonny, Dawnn, and Tawny. And Jonny swore a lot. But if you've ever heard him on a podcast, you know he cusses like a sailor. In the end, a good time was had by all. Except maybe the poor fans who lined up to ask questions at the microphones.

Lower Decks 🌌

After our Baby Boomer duo left the stage, the "babies" of the Trek extended universe came back out to do their Q&A panel for ST: Lower Decks with Tawny, Dawnn, Eugene, and Gabrielle Ruiz. The MC/moderator came back out to guide us on our journey, and this time, even though I still thought he was a wee bit too chatty and took too long to get to the fan questions, most of what he contributed was still pretty good.

To be honest, I don't remember many of the questions during their Q&A, but I do remember that the general vibe of their panel was "silly coworkers letting us watch them be silly."

The moderator/MC had them each go down the line and answer some oddball getting-to-know-you type question before launching into anything Trek-related. Each cast member answered it in stride while also making fun of how dumb it was.

Then, they launched into different stories about shooting different episodes, and what they'll miss about the show now that the final season has began airing. Tawny and Eugene plugged an improv show in Brooklyn for later that evening, inviting anyone who didn't already have plans.

Like I said, most of the questions weren't too memorable. The only one I kind of recall was one that ticked me off a little bit. The question itself wasn't a bad one, but the guy who asked it had to get in a little dig at the Kelvin universe cast -- and I did not care for that.

Anyway, his question was: "Now that Lower Decks is coming to an end as a series, would the cast like to see a Lower Decks movie? And if so, would they want it to be live action or animated?" Every cast member pretty much loved the idea of doing a Lower Decks movie, but they're not sure in what direction it would go given what happens in the series finale that hasn't aired yet. So their answers were both positive and a wee bit cryptic.

Admittedly, it was a pretty good question, but he had to throw in some shade claiming that Trek fans would rather see a Lower Decks movie than another Kelvin universe movie. To which I say: I would love to see both! I enjoy both of these Trek iterations equally, but for very different reasons. And although it will never be the same without Anton Yelchin as Chekov, I am looking forward to seeing Karl, Chris, Simon, and John suit up one more time.

And on that note, I think I'll end this absurdly long convention report that I started over a week ago, but kept coming back to add more and more detail.

I'll also add this one last photo from the convention room floor where all the autographs were being signed. Since I wasn't getting autographs, I decided to just steal quick shots of the actors signing for other people. Again, it serves as proof that I was there, and it feeds the general fun of being a nerd in my favorite fandom of all time.

#star trek #fandom #convention report #st: snw #st: tng #st: ds9 #st: dsc #st: lower decks #st: voy #st: ent #jonathan frakes #brent spiner #con report

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lifmera · 10 months ago

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Hello! I adore your writing! May I please have a match up for Hazbin Hotel, Chainsaw man and Sally face if it’s not too much trouble? I'm demisexual 27 year old plus sized woman. I’m 5"7 with fairly wide hips that dip to more narrow center and broad shoulders. My eyes are pale green bordering yellow with short almost shoulder length dark brown hair that is an orange blond from the top of my ears down. I have a septum piercing, two sets of ear piercings and glasses in sort of an aviator style that I forget to wear. I'm a little buff under all this fluff as I am a baker by trade. But I have been dealing with a shoulder injury has kinda left me feeling a bit fragile and frustrated. I've been told I'm fairly pretty but I just kinda don't see myself that by conventional standards. I'm not really self conscious about my body, I am just a large animal and people will just have to deal with that. I prefer to dress comfortably but if I can I enjoy wearing jumpsuits as well as black dresses.

I would describe my personality as caring but very direct. I Tend to prioritize others well being over my own. However, I am working on ensuring I take care of myself just as well. I tend to be reserved around other people but once I get comfortable I tend to ramble on my interests in short bursts, primarily around biology, cryptids, animation and practical effects. Honestly I enjoy being a bit aggressive with my friends- usually intimidation play or picking up people to help make them feel a little small. Admittedly when I feel comfortable around someone I prefer feeling small and protected if I’m not needed for comfort. I have many creative hobbies, primarily sketching, painting, sculpting, and crocheting. One of my favorite things to do is wildlife drawings. Though I find it difficult to hold on to my passions for prolonged periods of time, if someone I'm close to is passionate about something- I'm completely enthralled and try to be as supportive as possible. I love word play, often trying to force puns where they don't fit. I love horror and thriller movies and have a decent tolerance for gore but to be perfectly honest I have a hard time with handling prolonged scenes with people actively suffering.

This sounds a little silly but I imagine if I was a demon in hell I would probably resemble something of a chimera. I do apologize if this is a bit of a long submission! Thank you so much for your time!! 💚

I read sally face and started tweaking….

God i love sally face. AND THANK YOUUUUU.

.. I’ve decided to pair you with… ALASTOR, DENJI & LARRY JOHNSON!

Let’s be real. I think at first you’d remind him of his dear old mimzy. Before she died anyways, and obviously not dependent on him to fight your battles.

Alastor would find your rambling interesting, and he’d honestly probably learn something he hasn’t before? like “wow! Thats new.”

He’d want to learn more about your interests, also because he’s the radio demon, and doesn’t seem to really know much about the modern world- or care for it. But he IS based off a wendigo. So i’d think he’d find it interesting!

He LOVES when you paint, draw, crochet for hum! It reminds him or his own mother, and he’d probably become attached to you.

He’d also enjoy it if you did all of this, while he’s broadcasting too. He’s not able to always be there, but if he is, he’ll want to be with you.

Alastor would LOVE to watch horror movies, but if it makes you uncomfortable, or a scene does, he will pay no mind and skip it. Not like theres anything new he hasn’t seen.

If you were a chimera. He definitely would’ve been surprised at your look! Like- “oh ! Thats new.”

Ok … Denji time..

This man would NEVER JUDGE YOU. He can’t even bag someone.

Honestly i think he’d prefer someone chubbier, he’d LOVE to give hugs.

I think Denji would be a very physical touchy person, esp after what happened with… everyone. It’d help him protect you :)

When he found out about your shoulder injury? He was on your ass all day, every day. You don’t get away!

He loves that you take care of others, but this man is always hurt. He’d rather you be okay than he is!

He would love to listen to you ramble. Denji knows when to shut up, and i think he would enjoy listening!

Okay i know I’ve said this before but denji WILL make you draw pictures of you and him together- or he’ll draw them himself. Like stick figures holding hands!

If you crochet him something? Over the MOON. If its a piece of clothing he’s always wearing it. If its a plushie? He’s sleeping with it at night.

Denji would be indifferent to horror movies. I think he’d prefer comedy. He’s seen enough! :(

NOW LARRY 💛

I feel like i shouldn’t have to explain.

He’d LOVE YOU. You remind him of his friends :)

Your personality allows his to come out! He loves that you care for his friends, and his well being cause we know damn well he doesn’t.

Larry is a Listener instead of a talker. He’d love to listen to you ramble and ask questions while he’s painting! His favorite things at the same time!!

You draw with him, you paint, you crochet? Holy SHIT!!!! HE’D BE IN LOVE. Like! Okay !!! I LOVE YOU!!! 🧡🧡

I think he doesn’t mind any movie you guys watch. As long as it’s a mean of being able to cuddle with you on the couch and watch a movie.

He definitely finds your puns funny.

~~~

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY!!!

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queen-scribbles · 2 years ago

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WAIT ]: realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist, preventing them from continuing their departure.

Unfocused

hoo boy, full blast pining!Arcann Ardrali fic for you. Like. High-key isn’t even a strong enough descriptor. It’s stratospheric. (ps this is post-Unbowed, so she’s pining too, but POV is all him :D)

----

Arcann was halfway through stack of reports he’d agreed to review when the faint flicker of another presence disrupted his focus. He’d been so absorbed in his task, he’d failed to pick up the quiet muttering from the next archive aisle over until the individual moved closer. There was an intensity that gentled around the edges--white hot focus framed in soothing blue--which made him fairly certain he knew who it was.

Arcann let his gaze drift up from the datapad in his hand, biting the inside of his cheek as he debated whether it would be a good idea to interrupt her. There was a subtle flare of something... irritation? frustration? that broke his internal stalemate in the selfish direction, and he pushed out of the chair. He needed a break, anyway.

The muttering stopped as he stepped around the end of the aisle, and Endrali met his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, managing to school his reactive smile into something more acceptable than it wanted to be.

“Not... really. Some information is eluding me. Sorry if I bothered you.” Endrali ran a finger around the hood of the search terminal in front of her. She cocked her head and studied him. ”Though, come to think of it, this isn’t somewhere I’d expect to find you to be bothered.”

“I offered to look over the recent reports from Admiral Aygo’s men,” Arcann explained. “To see if I noticed anything in the unrest they’ve been handling that bears connection or similarity to the... incidents we’ve handled.”

Endrali huffed a laugh, which was a fair reaction. Tassar at least was more than an incident. “Ah, good idea. I’m sure that’ll be appreciated. You’re doing it in here because...?”

“It seemed the place I’d be the most out of the way while still having easy access to the information I might need.” He didn’t mind the prodding; this was hardly one of his usual haunts around the base. “And you? What information is proving so elusive?”

“Oh, I told Hylo I’d do some research on the Unknown Regions and people who had visited or explored them to see if there’s any leads on resources we could use.” She wrinkled her nose and played her fingers idly over the terminal’s keys. There was a tremor of something he couldn’t place to her sense before her gaze dropped back to the query screen. “One of the predominant explorers isn’t where he should be listed in the database...” Something flickered in her eyes. “Unless....” She tapped keys more deliberately, and her brow furrowed even as triumph flared through her sense. “There you are! “

It took a strong effort to suppress a laugh at her mingled pique and enthusiasm.

Endrali plugged in a datastick to download what she needed and flashed another apologetic smile as she looked up, tucking hair behind her ear. “So it appears the archive staff need a gentle reminder on how to honor different cultures’ naming conventions when adding to our database.” She flicked a glance toward where he’d come from. “Sorry again if I disturbed you.”

“It’s alright,” Arcann assured her, fighting the urge to smooth back a strand she’d missed. “I was starting to see double, so a break is probably wise.”

She cocked her head. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

I’d work myself into the ground for this second chance. Even if the care in her tone made his heart skip a beat, it was a rather pot meet kettle sentiment, and he couldn’t bite back this smile. “I won’t. The report I was reading happened to be more detailed than the previous few, and thus was a longer read. I’d planned a break when I reached the end, but I don’t mind it happening early.” Especially if it means I get to talk to you. He snatched the thought back, shoved it down, hoping it hadn’t resonated strongly enough for her to pick it up.

“Good,” she nodded, leaning one hip against the console.

“So I take it naming conventions are an interest of yours?” he asked, partly because her quiet passion had been endearing, partly to keep talking. “To be so frustrated it was recorded wrong.”

“You could say that,” Endrali laughed softly. “It goes with the love for archaeology and cultural history. I might be primarily focused on Jedi history, but other cultures are fascinating, too. And names are an important part of that; there are several where the naming habits are a clear look into their values. Family, status, class, that sort of thing. But it can get tricky keeping track of the family, individual, in some cases clan or ancestral name orders. And sometimes there are differences when the origin tongue is translated into Basic...” She shifted her weight. “So there are guidelines for how to weight aspects for archiving, and apparently at least one member of our staff is unfamiliar with them. So. A gentle reminder.”

The terminal beeped completion of the download and it was almost a shame to watch her reel herself back in.

“There we go,” she murmured, plucking out the datastick. She flashed him another warm smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Endrali.” Arcann wasn’t sure what drove him to take a half-step forward and catch her wrist as she started to leave; something instinctive or selfish or otherwise. It had his heart pounding in his chest when she paused, regardless. “Perhaps we could help each other.”

Her smile widened and he almost dared think she’d been hoping he’d stop her. His grip was loose enough for her to easily shake and she hadn’t. “How so?”

“I’m familiar with the Unknown Regions to aid with your research, and you are an.. alternate perspective on the incidents I’m comparing with the reports. It would be a more thorough result for both. If you’ve the time?”

“Of course.” She shifted back toward him and he let go of her wrist. Her fingers flexed. “If you don’t mind the company?”

“Not in the slightest,” Arcann said, and he meant it, despite the one slight problem with this arrangement.

Her smile as they headed, together for where he’d been sitting was going to make it very hard to focus.

#queens fic #eyes emoji prompts #endrali jade #arcann #ardrali #otp: undone by you #i've decided the only reason these idiots(Affectionate) don't notice their mutual pining is they're both so busy #trying to hide their own feelings they miss the other's #bc both are sure the other would never feel the same way #muahahahahahaha #debated finding a more gffa-ish way of saying pot meet kettle but decided it's fine this way #endrali u nerd

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thej320 · 8 months ago

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Week 4: Masculinities in Sports

Exploring toxic masculinity and its prevalence in sports

You’ve probably heard the saying “men don’t cry”, "tough it up" or “be a real man.” In sports, these harmful phrases are omnipresent. Hearing these things from a young age can cause men to feel the need to hide their emotions. This can result in hyper masculinity or toxic masculinity. It can also lead to men expressing their emotions in unhealthy ways and feeling insecure. The strong presence of masculinity in sports has also made being a female athlete very challenging. Women are often compared to men in sports because of the difference in their physical ability. They are looked down upon for not having the same levels of engagement or interest in professional sports. At the same time, female athletes are also criticized for not being womanly enough. Masculinity in sports has set an impossible standard, even for women. Hearing "don't throw like a girl" is equally as harmful for women to hear. They have to work harder to go past these stereotypes.

We will often see male athletes have moments of aggression in sports. This “tough guise” can lead to athletes getting injured while they are taught to play through the pain. It can also be mentally upsetting. Athletes undergo a lot of pressure and stress. On top of this, they experience the hardships of life just like everyone else. Dallas Cowboys quarterback Dak Prescott, experienced a lot of hardship. His brother committed suicide and his mother was battling cancer (Gordon). He opened up about feelings of depression and emphasized the importance of being vulnerable. For many men, it can feel impossible to talk about mental health because of the fear that it is not “masculine”. This fear is real because of the discourse and backlash that professional athletes face on a daily basis. Skip Bayless, a sports commentator, discussed Prescott’s depression in an insensitive way. This shows how the media aids these stereotypes and supports unhealthy expectations.

youtube

However, some male athletes are resisting this. Two great examples of this are NFL quarterback Caleb Williams and college basketball player Jared McCain. Conventional ideas of masculinity are put to the test by the existence of non-traditional gender identities in sports. These two are both known to paint their nails, which in male sports is extremely uncommon. This simple act is a great reminder to express yourself in whatever which way you choose. These are both amazing athletes, who are just as good with their nails painted. It should not diminish their masculinity or their image as amazing players. Williams received backlash after being seen crying in the arms of his mother after he just lost a big game. People do not like to see these things because it goes against stereotypical “masculine” acts. When we see someone step outside of this bubble, media viewers can get uncomfortable because it does not match their idea of “American Football.”

It is extremely important to put these stories into light and show people that there is not one thing that makes a man. Jared McCain recently signed a deal with a nail polish company, Sally Hansen. McCain says, “Everybody should do self-care. For me, it’s nail painting. I’m sorry if that offends any of you guys. My favorite nail polish to use is the Sally Hansen Insta-Dri because it only takes 60 seconds to dry. There’s no crazy reason I (paint my nails). It helps me not bite my nails. I went to a salon one time, picked out a color, and thought it looked nice. Many people disagree and don’t like it, but I’m going to be myself and do what I think looks nice (Thornton).” Having this representation is necessary-It is imperative that we keep pushing for more inclusive and wide-ranging depictions of masculinity in sports media. Promoting stories that defy clichés and present a more comprehensive understanding of what it means to be an athlete is one method to do this (UNESCO).

Sources:

#masculinity #Youtube

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fatalism-and-villainy · 1 year ago

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20, 40, and 63 for the asks!

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

There are so many words I have to hold myself back from using because I'll just default to them, though I'm blanking on most of those now.

As for settings - I loooove pseudo-academia. I don't get to use it nearly as much as I'd like, but it has cropped up in more than one fic. Erotic triangles are another - that's one reason I love Hannibal so much. I also just love a good character study.

I guess something I'm often interested in writing is established relationship fics. There was a fanfic tier ranking going around awhile ago and I saw several people say they didn't like established relationship fic, which surprised me - I guess it didn't occur to me that some people didn't like that. Personally, I love exploring how two people learn to function together and how they navigate sex and kink and cohabitation.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I don't honestly have a preference! I would be delighted enough if anyone did that I wouldn't care which scene it was. Most of my scenes are pretty "filmic" in my head, so there's not really one that stands out over the others in terms of something I'd want to see visually represented.

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

HA. Honestly, a lot of things. It's funny, because sex and sexuality and eroticism are usually the main things I want to see explored in fic, and yet a lot of sex scenes in fic tend to bore me. I think sometimes there's too much meticulous focus on every single step rather than the emotionality of the experience, which is what actually interests me.

Which reminds me of how much I hate the 1-2-3-dick convention. I wouldn't mind it if the fingering and lubrication were actually hot, i.e. focused on as something pleasureable and worth lingering on in their own right. (Lube can be hot! It can really heighten sensation!) But as it is, it feels like many people take care to include it because it's the "correct" way to write anal sex, and at a certain point I'm like... unless it's really important, we can just skip this. If a dick is going into someone's ass at all, I'll just assume there's lube unless stated otherwise.

Also, I do just plain like m/m better, but one reason I don't read a lot of m/f and f/f is because of the potential to be blindsided by the word "pussy" out of nowhere. I don't necessarily mind that word in dialogue, because it does feel appropriate if the characters are saying it during mindlessly horny dirty talk. But when the third person narrator is saying it... GODDD no.

#ciaran #replies #fic talk #sex talk #awkwardly memes

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77angelnumbers77 · 1 year ago

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ How I organize my Drive!

Do you have a hard time finding projects you started? Do you have 1000 documents called "Untitled Document"? When was the last time you closed all those writing tabs?

I'm going to share how I sort my Drive. Alright, so to begin with, I hate sorting by genre, pairing, whatever within my Drive. It just gets too granular! I use 4 folders (well, 5 if you count the umbrella folder).

As follows:

I feel like a genius for devising this system. I'm going to explain each of these folders in more detail below.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Concepts

This is for 1-2 sentence snippets of text that I think of when I'm out and about. I get an idea, I open a doc and write it down. Observe:

What you see is what you get! The docs themselves don't involve much more than what the title has to offer.

These work for all sorts of things! See:

Writing prompts for when you're blocked

Little moments to incorporate in your longer fics

Just getting a half-baked idea out of your head!

Why shouldn't you keep an idea in your head? Mostly because you'll probably forget it. Things happen in life! You could be thinking about nothing but your fic and still forget some detail you thought up when you were out and about.

In my case, this means . . . a plethora of terrible Christmas puns. But I'm still glad I wrote them down, because frankly I have no memory of creating this document.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Abandoned

I'm skipping a step here, but I want to go in order of the screenshot 😭

Do you ever write something and realize it just doesn't resonate with you anymore? Or that it has too many plot holes? If you've ever abandoned a fic for whatever reason, I encourage you to have a folder for abandoned fics. My rule of thumb is to never delete old work. Why? Lots of reasons!

Older work shows your progress! Something that gives me a big self esteem boost is going back and reading older works to see how I've grown as a writer. There is value in preserving the timeline of how you got to where you are now!

There will always be bits worth saving. Maybe most of the fic is garbage, but there's a little snippet in there that could be recycled for a newer piece. Maybe the characterization is particularly good. Maybe you coined a word that you don't want to forget about! Every piece has something to offer, even if it never sees the light of day.

Having a place to store old work can be just as valuable as having a place to store your concepts.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ WIP

Short for work in progress. This is the folder for everything between concept and completed!

Actually, a lot of these follow the same format as the concept folder for me.

The biggest difference is length! Most of these don't even have titles. A good majority of them are <1000 words, which is my minimum publishing length, with no coherent plot. Most of these will never be published, but that's okay! The time I spend on them makes me a better writer, and I have fun.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Complete

This is genuinely just a hall of fame for me.

Not all of these are published, and some of them never will be, but I think it's nice to remind myself that I am able to finish things. Writing takes a while, and it can be thankless, but putting pride in your achievements makes it easier to write long-term.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Naming Conventions

One more thing! You may notice I don't have any documents with the default title. You may also notice a lot of my placeholder titles are overly descriptive. This is just to make it easier for me to find things! Two or three words to jog your memory is endlessly better than this:

Where is the soul? What's in it? Should I be scared?

Do yourself a favor and write a quick title. It doesn't have to be the final working title! It's a placeholder that can be changed at any time, and it'll save you a lot of time that could be used for writing.

Alright, well, I think that's it! Thanks for reading this far. I hope this helps someone! Happy writing ♥️

#txt #fic progress #writeblr #organization #guides

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hismercytomyjustice · 6 months ago

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Omfggg I cannot believe my little BG3 fic is about to hit 70 subscribers!!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

It is wonderful and terrifying all at the same time haha!!! It’s also weirdly humbling knowing almost 70 people trust me and this story enough to want updates as it’s posted???

Thank fuck I’ve written most of it already because otherwise I would be STRESSING TF OUT.

I crossed the 75k word threshold the other day. The 75k maximum I thought I would probably hit seeing as I’ve never written much over like 50k before and that was only once in the fanfic world and 3x in the “this will likely never see the light of day” original work world haha.

PLEASE TELL ME HOW THE FUCK I STILL FOUR FULL CHAPTERS LEFT TO WRITE.

In the event you clicked to see more, just know you’re about to see a lot of rambling of mental health and writing.

I’m winding down chapter 14 now and chapter 18 is at least 50-75% done after I skipped to it in a panic due to the massive writers block I hit in 13 over hardcore stressing over my characterization of Cazador. Just “he is not being horrible enough, he needs to be more horrible, but not too horrible or this fic will need to be even longer and I’m already wildly out of my word count comfort zone” lol.

So that leaves the tail end of 14 and 18, and then I just have to write 15, 16, and 17.

Oh thank fuck. It’s only three I thought it was four full length ones left. Oh god. This simultaneously brings me relief and anxiety lmaooo.

Oh god.

But this fic is going to have such a special place in my heart because writing it has reminded me THAT I LOVE WRITING.

I’ve barely written in the last decade for a variety of reasons and tbh until I started writing this fic, I was starting to wonder if I really even enjoyed writing and wanted to do it anymore.

Not because I didn’t, but because the level of passion I used to have for it seemed to just be…missing? I kept thinking “it’s so weird how writing used to be such a huge part of my life and now I never seem to be able to do it or want to do it”.

I’ve come to realize in the last month or so, the biggest culprit was my previously semi-diagnosed OCD. Second biggest may have been my definitely undiagnosed ADHD.

Any time I’d try to sit down to plot or draft or anything I would get into OCD spirals and either completely talk myself out of it or get into it for a little bit and then hit a roadblock in the story I couldn’t get past or convince myself what I wrote was awful and no one would ever want to read it because I would get bored writing it so why the hell would anyone want to read it? So then I’d convince myself I needed to read up on the craft of writing to make up for my deficiencies. And the more I learned the more I realized I didn’t know or the more deficiencies I saw and the more I’d get into my own head.

I spent some much time kind of wishing I hadn’t read so many books, went to so many convention panels, listened to so many podcasts about writing, etc. Because any time I looked at a blank page, I couldn’t get out of my own head enough to fucking WRITE.

Just an endless stream of: The first line is super important and has to hook the reader, make sure you start in the middle of the story, your protagonist should have xyz, your villain should have abc, every sentence should do more than one thing, if you don’t regularly make time to write you’re not a real writer, all these other people make time to write and their lives are way busier than yours so what’s wrong with you, you must hate writing otherwise you’d actually do it, you’ll never get anything published because you lack discipline, etc etc etc.

I just desperately wanted to go back to the days where I could just flip open a blank notebook and go to town without giving a shit about what anyone else thought a story had to be and without second guessing every single letter I put on the page.

And then such a weird combo of stars aligned that finally made me remember why I fucking love writing and why I do it in the first place???

Consuming media that makes me passionate about storytelling and reawakens my creative drive.

My friend offhandedly mentioning she writes on her phone sometimes and isn’t a phone kind of like a little notebook you can carry around and whip out whenever? Bonus, you don’t have to retype everything after writing by hand!

Getting officially officially diagnosed with OCD. Third therapist’s is a charm amirite? If I had a nickel for every therapist who told me I was exhibiting signs of OCD I’d have three nickels… I didn’t even go to my current therapist for OCD. My former therapist suggested finding a specialist in exposure therapy to help with an unrelated phobia (I will not go into on here and probably never will because it’s deeply personal) and the specialist I found happens to specialize in OCD because exposure therapy is often used to treat it.

And my current therapist taught me what OCD thought spirals are, how they start up, how they take root, how they get out of control. Suddenly it wasn’t just “oh, I have anxiety so I need to use decision techniques to combat it” it was “ohhh this is therapy designed with my brain in mind and my brain isn’t as weird or scary as I thought.” It’s just wild to spend decades of your life thinking your brain is fucked up and you don’t understand what’s wrong with it so how could anyone but then you get a literal fucking worksheet that maps out an example spiral with a note on it that reads “this you?”.

Specifically, she taught me about Inference-based Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (ICBT). If anyone reads this and is curious about ICBT. this article does a pretty good job of explaining it.

It was just wild to look at this piece of paper that was like “oh, no, this is a regular/common enough brain thing that we’ve done research on it and made a fun little worksheet for it” that makes it all feel so weirdly mundane and less scary as a result? Like decades of “I’m scared of my own brain” turned into “your brain isn’t scary, there’s a clear pattern to this kind of thing and lots of people go through it”.

And then I decided to take piano lessons. Because I started writing a POTO AU before I started my BG3 fic and I remembered how much I loved music in the same way. How much I enjoy the violin but struggle to get myself to play now that I’m not part of an ensemble. And that was another thing I haven’t found much joy in lately either.

And my OCD went off the fucking RAILS with that. Because of all my insecurities around being someone who always struggled to practice regularly and realizing how much of a refresher I needed on music in general after so much time away. Leaving lessons wanting to cry because of how fucking stupid an inept I felt and being utterly convinced I was wasting my teacher’s time.

BUT. Because of ICBT and my therapist, I could see I was hardcore OCD spiraling. It marginally helped because at least part of me was like “okay, these feelings aren’t the truth and they are irrational” even as I still struggled to find any actual self-compassion over it all. Because why the fuck is wrong with me it’s piano, I am paying for lessons, I do not have to be perfect. My therapist insisted my only obligation was to just show up for the lessons and SHE IS RIGHT. Like, yeah, it’s great to practice and I want to get better at it, but OCD-ing myself to the point I’m fucking miserable and never practice (much like I did with writing) is not the answer.

Piano made me realize my OCD impacts my day-to-day life in a variety. Not just my 10/10 OCD spirals/fears.

Do I still struggle with how fucking ridiculous getting worked up over voluntarily taking piano lessons made me feel? 10000%. Am I actually enjoying and looking forward to my lessons and actually practicing because I want to instead of feeling paralyzed or over analyzing or avoiding or forcing myself to? Also 10000% true!!! It’s fucking wild how much you can enjoy things you like when your OCD SHUTS THE FUCK UP FOR FIVE GODDAMN SECONDS.

Like obvs I still have a lot of work to do on the OCD front, but I’ve made so much fucking progress over the past few months. It feels like night and day sometimes. If you’d told me like 6 months ago I’d have written 75k on one fanfic in addition more on others, I would have laughed on your face and then doom spiraled about it.

God I have missed actually ENJOYING things. My therapist was not exaggerating when she talked about me having a breakthrough last session about overcompensating and how it negatively has impacted myself and my fledgling self-compassion.

It feels so fucking GOOD.

Navigating OCD and ADHD, especially as a late diagnosed person isn’t easy. I’m still learning so much and also puzzling out what does and doesn’t work for me. But for the first time in such a long time, I feel like I’m actually making progress on those fronts and it is such a fucking relief after borderline hating myself for years now.

This got wildly out of hand, but OH WELL. I’m just so fucking happy and relieved to be seeing some progress for myself that I was starting to worry might never fucking happen.

#hismercy’s musings #my writing #ancient books and horror stories #personal #actually ocd #actually adhd

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seravphs · 1 year ago

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I caught a moment to catch up with DDAO :)

"You leave a piece of yourself behind every time a child cries." rip mc...my beloved...I need Yaga to get on introducing therapy to Jujutsu High ASAP 😭

"It’s reaching that time of year you feel the most lethargic, where people and time pass by you in a blur. In the spring you’ll wake up fully, and it’ll the cold will have faded like a bad dream." Off-topic but I'm so sad summer is ending! Also rip mc please google seasonal depression for me thanks babe

Rip mc makes me so so sad with her willingness to prioritize others but not herself. She got up instantly when she was worried that Shoko was cold but she wouldn't do the same for herself and it's so heartbreaking to see.

I hate to see rip mc isolate herself even further from the world. I think this year of my life in particular has taught me about how quickly time runs - and runs out, in particular. Entire weeks disappearing of her life...where she's alone...I'm deeply worried. So often throughout DDAO I want to reach into that universe and wrap my arm around rip mc.

This is a HUGE tangent lmao skip the next paragraph to ignore me talking to myself

Rip mc isn't even catholic (afaik) 😭 but she's so self flagellating. I think part of the reason rip mc makes me so sad is she reminds me a lot of high school. It's such a deeply (often specifically teenage) girl mindset to punish yourself for your desires. This is not that relevant to DDAO but there's something painfully resonant about the way rip mc is going about this. Tbf rip mc is (in her own opinion because stsg are morons and terrible at communicating) a homewrecker so it isn't THAT applicable BUT in general it just feels like looking into my own past to see rip mc take on the weight of a literal apocalypse, her world collapsing, and blame herself for it. I read something once which I wish I could find again about how Jesus could never be a woman because female suffering isn't subversive, it's expected. Suguru was there! Suguru was very much in control of his own actions in that moment! But rip mc is laying the price of destruction at the feet of her greed and it makes me so miserable :( I feel like so often women are socially conditioned to want less, to be less greedy. Bitter over this forever.

Back to DDAO

LMAO SHOKO she's so real I love her. I'm also very pragmatic so I feel like that's how I would react. I think Shoko is my self-insert in DDAO haha: takes care of rip mc and is the voice of reason.

We know so little about Mimiko and Nanako, it's nice to imagine a world where they get to grow up as normally as they can. With friends, teachers, a social life etc. God. Life gets better, don't read JJK lmaooo not a single person (worth caring about) in this damned series is happy.

Something I really like about DDAO is how it's like JJK, since it's canon-adjacent, but also how much I feel like I'm talking with my friends about her toxic situationships like I really am watching rip mc interact with stsg with the fond horror of two girls sitting across from each other in a restaurant booth recounting what happened last week in their lives.

Megumi is such a good kid.

I can't seem to remember rip mc liking sweets. Maybe it was just a random choice but since she just saw Gojo, I also can't help but wonder if she bought one because of him.

HE'S SUCH A GOOD KID.

I think I've talked about this before, but I feel so strange about aging. I don't mean this in the conventional spoon fed aging propaganda sense because I'm not afraid of wrinkles/etc. It's more that recently, I've become so aware of the concept of 'youth' - and the fact that I'm losing it. At some point last year, I turned eighteen, and this year, nineteen, then the year after that, I'll turn twenty - how did I get so far from four and six and eight? What happened? It's terribly beautiful and beautifully terrible because change is inevitable and yet so scary. I'm evolving with the world, or perhaps it's evolving with me, but I'm at a loss for how to react to that.

Rip mc's monologue about returning to a place she knew with the sudden awareness of her lack of being a child really hit home. Many things I've loved are memories now. I loved stars, too. I miss my mom and dad, too. And no matter how much I miss them (my parents are alive I just spent my first year away from them at college lol), I can't go back to the past! I can scream and cry and beg but I can never, ever go back.

Both rip mc and I are going to have to learn to be okay with that. Somehow. Wow. If I keep relating to rip mc I will consider seeking professional help. Thanks Morgan!

Megumi's such a good kid, it makes me endlessly sad and happy. Nothing like Fushiguro Toji made me laugh, though. I think that would've made Toji happy too.

I can't stand stsg. They're so evil 😭. Stsg and rip mc really are such a dynamic because she's weak to their advances specifically. Like who else are they trying this on that it would work? Just her. Poor baby.

stsg being shocked by how easy it was to get rip mc to agree made me laugh.

One day I will see rip mc develop some sense of self worth. One day. I know it'll happen. DDAO chapter 289. I'll be there and I'll be celebrating with champagne.

The realization that the mission that traumatized rip mc so badly was just a grade 2 mission made me physically flinch. I'm really bouncing between jjk canon and 'girl he said WHAT' and it's so good. Whiplash between stsg being assholes per usual and fuck, I forgot that these are child soldiers who somehow made it to adulthood - with all the baggage of being child soldiers.

I should get used to rip mc pulling away from people who want to take care of her but I never do. JJK never goes into detail with how horribly traumatic the lives of sorcerers actually are. Gojo didn't blink in reaction to some of his oldest friends dying. It feels so good, even if it's so horribly sad, to get that experience with rip mc and see how this life of blood and curses has affected her.

Sorry I actually DO love that Gojo is feeding rip mc lmaooo. I got so excited to read that scene. He's terrible and it's so fun! Kiss tax hahaha. Love him. I actually think Gojo wouldn't like my personality irl because he's a terrible bully but I would play along too well and he wouldn't get the reactions he wanted. I think I’d actually get along better with literally anyone else haha

This one made me really introspective and moody. It might be the end of a season affecting me. Either way, it was incredible per usual. Hope you're enjoying Japan and having lots of fun!

dog days are over | chapter five

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): mentions of virginity loss, threesomes, depression (the holy trinity lmfao), birth control, full on dissociative panic attack but not in detail, obligatory stsg warning. also cheating mention (but not really gojo is just jealous and geto likes the attention. they gaslight each other for fun btw) word count: ~9.2k

fic masterlist read on ao3

The nightmares start after Nagoya.

You wake up bleary eyed and distinctly worn out, with a heaviness in your chest that you carry with you. It only gets heavier.

The auxiliary manager you worked with promised to share any more relevant information with you about the case. You should have left it at that.

It becomes harder to stay uninvolved in your assignments, you're beginning to find, especially when innocent lives are taken.

You leave a piece of yourself behind every time a child cries.

You sit up from your bed and glance at the clock above the doorway. 11:54 AM. Light streams in from your windows, and you close your eyes in the temporary warmth before it fades, leaving your room cold. Outside, the trees are barren and the overcast is gray in preparation for the upcoming winter. It’s reaching that time of year you feel the most lethargic, where people and time pass by you in a blur. In the spring you’ll wake up fully, and it’ll the cold will have faded like a bad dream.

It's almost Satoru's birthday.

It’s cold. You feel goosebumps form on your arms. It occurs to you that you may have forgotten to turn on the heat in your apartment. Central heat. A rare luxury in these types of apartments. But you don’t want to leave the warmth of your bed, so you lie back down and curl into your bed.

Just as you’re about to succumb back to temporary emptiness, the door to your bedroom is thrown open. You wince as the door slams into the wall, raising your head.

“Something happened,” Shoko says plainly, crossing her arms. “I hope you haven’t been hiding from me on purpose.”

You don’t recall giving Shoko a key. But you must have, if she’s inside of your apartment. Guilt churns in your stomach. You’ve been avoiding not just her, but Satoru and Suguru. You’re unsure of how to act around them anymore. You don’t know how much you can tell her. How much you should.

Then she lightly frowns. “Why is it so cold in here?”

You sit up, worried the cold might be bothering her. “Let me turn on the heat.”

Before you can stand, she waves you off, taking off her coat and lazily throwing it on a nearby chair. “Forget that,” she sighs, walking over to your bed and motioning you over. “Move over.”

You wordlessly comply, scooting to the far end of the bed as she settles next to you, lifting the covers over her body.

The two of you look at each other, at the opposite ends of your pillow, sharing your comforter. At the warmth of her body, you almost close your eyes. You think if you fell asleep now, no nightmares would come to you.

“Shoko,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

But you had. Days passed in a blur. You didn’t give much thought to it, devoting all your efforts to routine. Luckily, there were no assignments after Nagoya. This bitter winter is a slow season for curses. You went from your apartment to Tokyo University and back, buried yourself in your studies, and blocked out the world. You hadn’t meant to. You kept on telling yourself you’d reply to that text, that you’d show your face again, that you’d pretend everything was alright even though it wasn’t. Now you’ve caused Shoko undue worry.

She simply looks at you. “Something happened at the party, didn’t it?”

You think of Satoru. Then Suguru. It’s the most you’ve thought about them in weeks. You don’t want to think about them because the longer you do, the more your thoughts stray in ways it shouldn’t.

You pull your covers up to your chin, troubled, and your silence speaking volumes. She softens.

“Never mind. I’m not here to force you to talk,” she pauses. “But if something happened. Something you didn’t want , then I want you to tell me.” She exhales. “Even if it’s Satoru and Suguru. Especially if it’s those two.”

It wasn’t…They didn’t…They…

You’re conflicted. “They wouldn’t…” you trail off weakly.

She looks at you blankly.

“It…”

You bury your face into your comforter. You don’t have the words to explain. It’s okay, you want to tell her. You’re more worried about Satoru and Suguru’s relationship than anything else. They’re arguing about something, you want to tell her, and engaging in acts with you you know they’ll regret. You’ve never cared much for what they do with you. You’d do anything, give them everything if they asked. If she asked. You lower the blanket.

She eyes you, suspicion lining her face. “Did they—”

“No,” you blurt out before she can finish. “Yes. Maybe.” You hesitate. “It wasn’t…”

Bad.

It feels like an admission of guilt. It felt so good it was horrible. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it. You shouldn’t have succumbed to the pleasure, not when the future of Satoru and Suguru’s relationship hung in the balance. It’s your fault, you think once again. The world is collapsing on top of you, and you can’t help but think it’s punishment for your existence. For taking more than you should have.

“Are you on birth control?”

You stare at her. “What?”

“Birth control,” she repeats, deathly serious. She rises from the bed. “I should get you started now—”

You reach for her delicate wrist, stopping her. “It’s not like that!” Your face warms with embarrassment. “I promise, it’s not like that.”

It's not that serious, you're sure. Even the thought gives you pause, makes you apprehensively embarrassed. It's not...like that.

Luckily, it’s something you don’t have to worry or think about.

“...If you say so.” She says, not believing you in the slightest. She retakes her position on the bed. “So,” she says after a pause. “Shirokami visited the infirmary.”

Right. You forgot Hideo had gone and introduced himself to Shoko.

Your stomach flutters, nervous. “Did you like him?”

“I did,” she replies. “He’s…” a thoughtful pause. “Nice. A country boy.” A wry smile. “Nothing like those two. At all. It’s refreshing, actually.”

Relief. You suppose he did grow up in the countryside, so it’s not too far off from the mark. As for being like Satoru or Suguru…

You resolve not to be hurt. The two of them are under no obligation to meet anyone. You won’t be hurt.

“He made it seem like the two of you are close friends.”

You’re sure he’s just being polite. Hideo is nice like that. Nonetheless, it makes you a bit happy to hear you made an impression on him. That he thinks of you fondly. He considers you a friend. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.

The comforter is warm with the shared heat of your bodies. Sleep calls out to you.

“He…scares me a little,” you say quietly. Hideo reminds you of a part of your life you don’t like to revisit. He makes you feel like a child again, afraid to be alone. “There’s a lot I don’t like to remember…about…back then. But I’m glad I met him again.”

“I see,” she says, smiling. “Then me too. I’m glad the two of you found each other again.”

You blink drowsily, smiling back at her. Shoko’s face is the last thing you see before heaviness drags your eyelids to darkness.

—

When you wake up, you are pleasantly revitalized and a little more alert. Shoko is gone, but there’s takeout on your kitchen counter. You take a bite of the Vietnamese noodles and realize that your taste buds have somewhat returned. You eat the entire meal, full for the first time in what seems like months.

You reply to a text from Hideo about the crowd at Shibuya crossing, smiling at the litany of exclamation points accompanying by his texts. You realize Megumi texted you earlier, about when you’d be coming by again and another pang of guilt hits you. You’ve been neglecting the kids too, lately. You wouldn't survive Mimiko and Nanako's wide eyes, gazing up at you, pleading at you to stay with them.

It’s six now, and the sky is pitch black. You know for a fact that Suguru and Satoru won’t be at the apartment until later. Yaga-sensei had mentioned Gakuganji visiting Tokyo accompanied by several other clan members for some annual conference. You didn’t pay attention to the details.

You…could visit. Suguru would have already fed the kids by now. Maybe you could take Megumi and the girls out for dessert. Or order something to the apartment. You feel lighter at the thought. Spending time with the kids always made you feel better. It’s something you can do, as small as it is. Small things.

Small steps.

You change and you’re out the door shortly. It doesn’t take you long to reach the apartment, greet the doorman, and take the elevator up. You knock. A few minutes later, the door swings opens, revealing Megumi.

“Hi,” you say brightly. “Have you been well?”

“Fine.” He lets you in. “Don’t you have a key?”

You laugh, still a bit breathless from the cold as you hang your coat up. “It doesn’t feel right to use it. I’m still a guest after all.”

Megumi doesn’t respond to that as the two of you enter the living room. It’s unusually quiet. “Where are the girls?”

“Mimiko and Nanako are with their friends. Tsumiki stayed after school for club.”

Just a couple of years ago, the thought of Mimiko and Nanako willingly spending time out of the apartment would have been a surprise. The two of them had been so recalcitrant about attending school. Suguru wanted to keep them homeschooled while Satoru thought putting them in school would be the best way to ease them out of their shell. It had taken time and patience, with several bad days, but eventually the two warmed up to their teachers and fellow classmates, Nanako especially. And where Nanako went, Mimiko always followed.

Mimiko had flowered into a sociable butterfly following her reintegration into society. It makes you happy to know that the two are alright now, so readily available to spend time with their friends.

“Just me and you, huh.” Megumi wouldn’t leave you though. Not yet. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” he states. “Earlier. I was just finishing my homework.”

You glance at the kitchen counter, finding Megumi’s homework spread around. “You don’t usually do your homework outside your room.”

“It’s quiet with everyone gone,” he says bluntly.

You smile, taking a seat as Megumi slides in next to you. He resumes his homework, and you let him carry on, helping him when he asks, simply content to watch. A few pauses during this science homework which you help him through easily. He glides through his English homework, and you feel unnaturally proud of him as you proofread his work.

It doesn’t take him long to finish. Soon, he’s gathering his homework up and packing it into his backpack.

“I was thinking,” you start. You hear the door open in the distance. It must be the girls. Perfect timing. “That we could all go out for—”

You turn, every hair on your body rising in panic.

“Sato—s’guru,” you blurt out, frozen. “What are you guys doing back so early?” Your question comes out more accusative than you intended. Of course they could come back as early as they wanted. It was their home after all. You were the interloper.

It’s just..

You thought that you’d have a little longer!

The two of them look at you. You shift uncomfortably, gaze bouncing from them to the floor to the wall behind to anything else. You’re a little more aware of the heat of their gazes on you, pinning you to the spot. Your collar feels warm, nerves jumping beneath your skin.

“The meeting ended early,” Suguru says amicably, smiling at you in a way that would be reassuring at any other given moment. “Satoru didn’t want to stick around.”

Satoru is oddly quiet, gazing at you. Even with his sunglasses on, you feel the weight of it, that prickle that tells you he’s focusing his attention on you. Your bottom lip twinges. You are determined not to meet his gaze. Or hold Suguru’s for too long.

Satoru cocks his head to the side. “You staying over?”

You think it’s Satoru’s way of telling you to leave. That you’ve outstayed your welcome. Suguru is too nice to say it outright.

“No,” you say, voice thin, throat growing thick. “I’m leaving now.”

“Can we talk?” Suguru asks quietly after murmuring your name. He gazes at you.

That’s the last thing you want. To be alone with the two of them. You don’t want to hear what they have to say. You want to imagine things to be okay, just for a little longer. Until you can’t.

“I’m sorry!” You say suddenly, antsy, hit by a sudden need to justify your presence at their home. You hope Megumi forgives you for the lie you’re about to tell. You glance down at him. “I just came over because Megumi needed school supplies!”

There’s a long silence.

A shadow of a twitch of an eyebrow falls over Satoru's face. "Since when does Megumi need school supplies?”

Suguru watches you carefully.

Your face burns in silent shame. You stare at the floor, feeling horrible.

“Since today,” Megumi returns testily. “We’ll be going now.”

Satoru looks mortally offended.

Megumi takes your hand and walks you out while you can't bring yourself to lift your head.

Outside, you bury your face into your knees. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Just give me a few…”

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath while your heart races in your ears.

“Are Satoru and Suguru okay?” You suddenly ask Megumi, who stays silent next to you. “Any issues?”

“They’re the same as ever,” Megumi says tonelessly, but his face is softer in its worry.

You smile. “I’m fine,” you tell him reassuringly.

He's right. If anything, at least the two of them don’t seem to be fighting. Not like they were during the wedding. But you still don’t think you can go back in there, and now you’ve forced Megumi out of the apartment.

You feel a mixture of guilt and horrible, horrible dread slowly spreading through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t have come. You probably don’t want to be out this late—”

“I don’t mind,” Megumi says. “I was going to take a walk anyway.”

That brings a small smile to your face. “It’s a bit late to take a walk, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. You feel a bit better at the fact that he’s not bothered at your impromptu outing. Rising, you take his hand once more. “Then let’s walk.”

You and Megumi walk around the neighborhood. The streets are dark, illuminated by streetlights in the mostly residential area. Other than the occasional dog walking passerby, the two of you walk in comfortable silence. Until the two of you find yourself all the way in Shibuya with its bright lights and noise. It’s easy to get lost in the lights of Tokyo’s busy nightlife. Throngs of people pass you by as you meander, following the crowd, with no particular destination in mind.

The two of you stop by a 7-11 tucked a bit further away from the bustle. You buy yourself a strawberry daifuku and ask Megumi if he wants anything. He isn’t hungry, so you buy him green tea.

More aimless walking takes you to Sakuragaokachō, away from the crowd. Streetlights and dark buildings greet you, but something about the area looks familiar. Nudges at muscle memory, the nerves in your foot. If Megumi notices your pace pick up, he doesn’t say anything.

You make your way down the street and slowly approach.

It’s a small, odd shaped building. With a curved dome of a roof that makes it look like a half moon.

You stare. “I think I used to come here.”

You remember the pitch blackness of a room, the steady hum of the ac that had filled the room, and the slow blinking of the stars coming alight on the ceiling. You remember this building.

The memory feels distorted. Incomplete. You feel like a clumsy child putting together a 500 piece puzzle, slotting pieces that don’t fit together. Your head hurts.

There’s a sign taped to the window next to the entrance. You momentarily squint.

Closing for good. All bookings are final.

Closing…for good…

Megumi calls your name.

“Sorry,” you blink it all away. “It’s nothing.”

“...Do you want to go in?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just…”

“It’s still open.”

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to force Megumi along with your whims even more than you already have tonight.

“I want to go in,” Megumi points inside. “We can buy tickets right now. It’s the last show”

He looks serious enough that you consider it, glancing at the building. If it were any other child but Megumi you might have worried that it would be boring. “Alright,” you say slowly, less troubled. “If you really don’t mind…”

He tugs you forward. The two of you enter the carpeted lobby and approach the usher who hands you two tickets without much fanfare and tells you that this is the last showing of the night. To your great relief, nothing looks familiar. It’s all different. It might not even be the planetarium you had regularly been taken to as a child.

The two of you enter the dark room faintly lit by dim stars dotting the curved ceiling. There are three couples scattered across the room. You let Megumi pick your seats in the corner and slide in next to him on the reclining seats.

The seating is different. It used to be standard seating in rows. You think. You aren’t sure. Maybe you just aren’t remembering it right. You must not be remembering anything right, right now. You’re buffeted by a perturbed feeling that grows stronger with every passing second.

The room is enveloped in darkness. A recorded woman’s voice begins to play. One by one the zodiacs appear above you while the voice drones on about creation myths and history. Amanominakanushi, Takamimusubi, Kamimusubi.

Different constellations are projected onto the ceiling, constantly in motion, forming new shapes, fading in and out.

You used to come here. You were a child then. You aren’t a child anymore. Nothing is the same. You aren’t that naive child that had proclaimed this planetarium your favorite place in the world. You hadn’t cared about the planetarium as much as you loved being pressed against your warm father, and his steady hand on your head. Your mother’s hushed whispers pointing out more stars.

You suddenly can’t breathe. You are keenly aware of Megumi right next to you, the humming of the air condition in the background, the narrator on the speakers, and every single breath trapped in your chest. Your head spins.

You close your eyes, slowly fisting your knuckles until they’re tight, feeling your legs and arms go numb. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. Don’t bother Megumi. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

“—a’am”

“She’s occupied.”

Megumi’s curt voice.

When you open your eyes, the lights are on and you are on the floor, clutching your knees to your chest. You blink, readjusting to the light.

The attendant looks unsure. She looks barely out of high school. “The show’s over and we have to clean up so…”

“Right,” you say unsteadily, embarrassment slowly creeping in. You stand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright…” She looks more relieved than bothered. “The exit’s to the right.”

You quickly gather Megumi and make a dash for the outside.

“Sorry,” you tell him breathlessly, once the two of you have made it far away enough that the embarrassment isn’t as painful. You squeeze your eyes shut, press your hands into your eyes, and take a big gulp of air. “Megumi,” you mumble. “I’m really embarrassed right now.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly.

There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach. You kneel down, meeting him at eye level, and manage your best smile. “Hey,” you say, cupping his face with your palm to even your gazes. You meet the dark purple of his eyes, the sincerity in their depths, and think that Megumi has all Fushiguro Toji’s roughness and grit, but none of his meanness. He couldn’t be more different than his father. Your Megumi is a good boy. “I’m alright. Thank you for spending the night with me.”

His gaze lowers. “Yeah.”

You stand back up, brushing your pants off. “I should take you back to Satoru and Suguru now…” You take out your phone to call a cab, but Megumi speaks up.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Your first thought, guiltily, is relief. You can’t send Megumi to the apartment himself so you resigned yourself to having to face Suguru and Satoru once more. You have a late morning tomorrow. It’s Saturday so Megumi doesn’t have school either. It’s the perfect opportunity.

You smile. “Of course you can.”

——

You text Satoru and Suguru that the two of you have arrived home, shut your phone off, and find Megumi already tucked underneath the covers of your bed. Thankfully Megumi had left some of his clothes the last time he had visited. You watch him for another minute, the steady rise and fall of his body, and the smallness of him. For once, he looks his age. Just another sleeping child.

A couple of years and he’d be as tall as you. You doubt the two of you would be able to comfortably share a bed as the two of you do now. You observe him, adjusting his sheets, smoothing out his hair, until you join him in slumber.

——

You wake up with a start, a scream building in your throat.

Megumi isn’t in bed. It’s still dark out. Fear grips your heart as you look around your room. Maybe your shuffling had woken him up and he had gone into your guest room to sleep. The thought makes you feel marginally better. But you also feel bad. You should’ve delivered him back to the apartment, swallowing down your discomfort in exchange for Megumi’s sleep.

“I got you water.”

You startle. It’s Megumi standing in the darkness of your doorway. You blink, adjusting to how the shadows meld into him, almost swallowing him whole.

Your throat happens to be parched. “Thank you,” you rasp out as Megumi presses the glass into your hand and climbs back into the bed. You drain the glass. “Did I wake you?”

Megumi’s silence tells you everything.

You sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s not usually this…” Bad. You figure it’s all the stress of your life. And then with Nagoya…

Megumi looks at you. “You were…” he trails off, pulling the covers up higher, up to his neck. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

You hope you haven’t been talking in your sleep.

Megumi falls asleep easily enough again, while you thread your fingers through his hair.

When sleep claims you once more, you hope for the forgiving light of the morning to come quickly.

You’re about to head home from the campus of jujustu tech when you catch a glimpse of blonde hair in your peripheral, turning the corner to the courtyard.

“Nanami!” You call out, and the figure stops.

Your kouhai turns to you as you approach, a respectful downtilt of his head. “Senpai.”

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He looks as good as you can normally attribute to him. Straight laced and responsible. Nanami’s always had a maturity to him that you’ve always thought highly of. It’s been years since the two of you were in high school, but sometimes you can still see the slight sullen downturn of his lips when Satoru does something particularly annoying. Some things don’t change.

“How have you been?” Judging from the overnight duffel in his grip, he must have just gotten back from an assignment of his own.

“The same as always,” he responds. “Thank you for asking.” A sensible answer you’d expect from him. He pauses, looking you over, the tinted eyepiece over his eyes offering you nothing. His gaze doesn’t pity you. He doesn’t offer you condolences. It’s an understanding that makes every single troubling thought resurface.

Oh, you think.

“I heard,” he says quietly. About Nagoya.

Your smile turns tight. You force it wider. “It’s over now.” You don’t know what else to say.

“The children…”

It’s a rare moment when Nanami is at a loss for words. You hadn’t expected Nanami of all people to bring this up in conversation. You’re not as upset as you could be about it. Talking to Nanami is and always has been…surprisingly easy.

“An aunt volunteered to raise them.” You think of the shell shocked son and the blank eyed older daughter. Your mouth turns sour. You stare at your shoes. Hopefully, they’ll get settled in soon. You will yourself to say the words but nothing comes out.

Nanami understands. “Ah. I see.”

The two of you stay silent.

“Nanami!” A voice exclaims loudly.

Satoru.

You don’t have time to react before Satoru is there, in front of you, loudly slapping Nanami on the back. You wince, both at the noise and Satoru’s sudden unwanted arrival. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were ignoring—”

Wordlessly, Nanami inclines his head to you once more, before turning on his heels and walking in the opposite direction of where he had been headed previously.

“He hasn’t changed one bit!” Satoru sighs. “Just when I thought the shared bonds of adulthood brought us closer…”

“...”

You wonder if you can slowly inch away.

He turns to you, as if sensing your intentions. You brace yourself for impact.

Satoru cocks his head to the side, studying you in silence, gaze shielded. You swallow, pulse starting up as you stare back at him.

“Seven tonight,” he finally says, to your great confusion. “Wear that…” he twirls a finger, “dress.”

A slow smile pulls at his lips. His fingers smooth out the collar of your dress shirt, and you swallow nervously when his fingers brush the heat of your neck. “Suguru barely got to see it, you know?”

Oh.

You hadn’t even thought about it since you shoved it back into your closet, hadn’t touched it. It felt wrong to throw it out. Shoko picked it out specially for you. Despite it all, you wanted to hang on to it.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back into the wall. He leans into you.

“Don’t be late!”

–

You hadn’t planned on wearing the dress. Then you looked up the restaurant on Google and nearly dropped your phone at the price range.

After taking your jacket, the hostess brings you to one of the private rooms in the back before leaving with a bow. You hover at the shoji, feeling anxiety grip you tightly, knowing that Satoru and Suguru are already inside. You wonder if you have to. You could lie, make up some excuse about an emergency as (un)well as it would be received.

The door abruptly slides open before you can decide.

“There you are,” Satoru simply says.

You aren’t given time to do anything else but take off your shoes as Satoru takes you by the wrist with an ironclad grip and leads you to the opposite of the table where Suguru is already seated.

He smiles at you as you slowly lower yourself onto the tatami matting floor. Even now, you still find comfort in Suguru’s smiles. It feels wrong.

“Have you eaten?” He asks as Satoru settles down next to him. “The wagyu here is famous.”

“I’m fine,” you say tightly. Hunger is the last thing on your mind as Satoru and Suguru watch you. Suguru with a carefully crafted smile, and Satoru with an unreadable expression. You’re so nervous you might pass out.

You stare down at your lap.

You are saved from the silence when a waitress knocks and enters the room with a tablet in her hands. Satoru begins listing off an obscene amount of food with Suguru occasionally chiming in with one thing or another. Wagyu, house smoked salmon, lobster, a colorful variety of more seafood, and more. They must be hungry.

Satoru goes quiet. You realize the waitress is waiting for your order. You raise your gaze with a small, polite smile. Had there even been a menu? “I’m not hungr—”

“Double everything,” Satoru says.

You stare at him.

“Add hot chrysanthemum tea to that,” Suguru adds.

“And that,” Satoru completes. “Put it all on my card, would you?”

You’re taken aback. You look to the waitress, hoping she hasn’t put in the order yet. “A-Actually—”

“That’ll be all,” Suguru says smoothly. “Thank you.”

The waitress bows and slips out of the room before you have a chance to say anything else. You don’t have time to comprehend her disappearance and you’re left staring at the empty space she had previously occupied, mouth slightly agape. You turn back to them.

“I ate bef—”

“Then you can eat a little more,” Suguru replies easily. A winning smile playing on his lips. “Right?”

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze, but you feel it travel over you. “...”

When you chance a glimpse up, Satoru’s face is cradled in his palm. His gaze is centered a little lower than your face. You briefly wonder what he’s looking at when your hand automatically comes up to slap the memory of his teeth on your collarbone. The bruise is gone, but with Satoru looking at you like that you can’t be too sure.

The two of them share an infinitely amused glance.

Satoru opens his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out. You feel like it needs to be said before anything else. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “Already?”

“What are you apologizing for?” Suguru asks.

Your fists curl, anxious to be speaking everything to existence. You struggled between acknowledgement and the relief of denial. You didn’t want it to be true, but it still happened, hadn’t it? “Everything,” you say plainly. “I didn’t…I don’t want to come between the two of you…I think that the two of you should talk things out more instead of…”

You think of Suguru’s face between your thighs. Satoru’s lips on yours. Your face feels embarrassingly warm. You want to crawl into the nearest closet, shut the door, and burrow into the floor.

There’s a knock on your door. Your waitress places your drinks down and leaves once more. Glad to have something to occupy your hands, your hands circle around the tea mug. It’s hot enough to burn, but the prickling of pain in your hands oddly enough, grounds you.

“It’s okay to be mad,” you say quietly. You should’ve stopped things before they escalated. Instead you let yourself be caught up in everything. “If the two of you want to be mad at each other then I’d rather you be mad at m—”

“Just a second!” Satoru raises his hand.

“Y-yes?”

He proceeds. “We’re not mad at you.”

Satoru meets your wide gaze evenly. Disbelief. You look to Suguru. You need confirmation.

“I was never mad,” he says, regarding you with concern. “More worried.” A wry smile. “You started avoiding us so suddenly…”

The revelation stuns you. They aren’t…mad? They don’t hate you? The two of them know everything. More disbelief. Relief wars with confusion. You don’t know what to think. You thought the worst, and maybe that was all your fault. You’ve always gotten too caught up in your head. It’s easy to spiral when you’re left alone with your thoughts. You don’t like being alone, the loneliness, but it’s your most familiar friend.

“I thought the two of you hated me,” you admit, fingers clinging to the warmth of the tea in your hands in lieu of fidgeting. “I thought the two of you would never want to see me again…” It doesn’t feel real. They aren’t mad. They aren’t mad at you. You could cry from the relief.

You eye them warily. “Are you still fighting?”

It’s Suguru who answers you, expression soft. “You could say we’ve come to a compromise.”

You straighten, feeling lighter than you have in what seems to be ages. They’ve called you here to forget about everything. Everything is alright. Everything is going to go back to how it was. Well, not exactly. Satoru and Suguru may get married in the near or far future, and you'll naturally, slowly, take your leave from their everyday lives. But you’ll still be friends. Suguru will still look at you fondly. Satoru will still afford you the same considerations that everybody else thinks he lacks.

“I’m glad,” you say earnestly with a wide smile. “Then I’ll forget about everything. I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Everything is going to stay the same. You take immense comfort in that fact. Your nerves settle. You take a long sip of your tea.

The two of them share another look.

Suguru reaches out, his fingers brushing one of your hands that you laid palm down on the table sometime after Suguru told you he was never mad at you. His thumb sweeps over your wrist and you startle, pulse spiking. “Did it feel good?”

You blink. You don’t need to guess to know what he’s referring to. You glance from Suguru to Satoru and then back again, wordlessly opening and closing your mouth. You can’t escape from the question, or their combined scrutiny.

You press your legs together. “It…did…” There’s no need for you to have felt as if you shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but you still feel a pang of guilt. Satoru and Suguru aren’t mad at each other, or at you. They still love each other. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to stay the same.

“That’s good,” Suguru says warmly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” you reply, breathless and unsure. “Thank you.”

Satoru exhales with a laugh that shakes his shoulders. It’s not derisive like you expected. It’s fond and amused. “How about all three of us feel good?”

You blink.

The implications aren’t lost on you. You open your mouth and then close it. Maybe Satoru and Suguru’s odd actions towards you had nothing to do with their argument in the first place. Maybe you were overthinking it all from the start. It’s just sex.

If you could help them feel good, then you don’t mind. “Okay.”

The two of them stare at you.

You wonder why they look so...surprised. It’s not as if you’ve never seen an occasional third breach their bedroom. A man or woman you've never recognized. It’s just sex. It’s normal. You think that maybe, like you, they want the comfort of something familiar. And if anything, you are familiar. But—

You’ve never had sex before.

You hesitate, feeling oddly self conscious about it as your gaze drops back to your lap. You’ve entertained some thoughts about it all, but you always figured the ugly scar on your abdomen would be discomfiting to most. And explaining it…

“I’ve never been with anyone before. I hope that’s alright.” You fidget. “I’ll try my…” you reluctantly meet their gazes, ”best.”

There’s a brief silence.

“That was easy,” Satoru remarks, squinting at you as if you’ve been replaced by an identical lookalike. He glances at Suguru. “We should’ve just done this earlier.” His gaze joins yours once more. “That easy?”

Earlier…

You stare at them, almost dumbfounded.

The two of them should’ve just asked earlier, to save you the emotional turmoil if anything!

It was only ever sex. It only is sex.

You hesitate. You don’t mind. You really don’t. It doesn't need to mean anything, especially with you. You prefer to look at it in simpler terms. Sex can be pleasurable, and with you, that’s all it would ever likely be. You doubt there are any other intentions involved.

Then you say, quietly, meaningfully, “I like…spending time with the two of you…”

A bark of laughter leaves Satoru’s mouth. “Well, we’re not exactly going to be watching movies —”

“You don’t need to,” Suguru suddenly says. “If you don’t want to, then you don’t need to.” He gives you a soft smile despite the sharp jab of his elbow into Satoru’s abdomen. Satoru hisses. Suguru doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t let this guy pressure you.” There’s a pause. “Everything would stay the same.”

Maybe a part of you had been waiting for those words. Everything would stay the same. Suguru always knows what to say, you think, because his words feel like a confirmation.

“Are you two alright with me?” You ask. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people…” who know what to do.

You are gripped with sudden anxiety and your stomach twists into knots. You don’t know what to do. You wouldn’t know how to make them feel good. You’ll be terrible and they’ll wish they never asked you in the first place. You swallow the knot in your throat. “I’m sure Sasaki-san would love—”

“No,” Suguru’s fingers momentarily tighten over your wrist. “Only you,” he says at the same time Satoru says, “Who the hell is Sasaki?”

You blink. “5’4, brown hair cut into a bob, hazel eyes. She was wearing a silver colored kimono…” You pause thoughtfully, recalling the shapes and patterns. “There was an embroidered crane on it.” Running down the side of her left leg. “She smelled like apple blossoms and had soft hands…” She smelled good. You remember that, along with the heat of her fingers when they brushed your own. You stare down at the hand that had touched her, momentarily lost in thought.

Satoru stares at you blankly while Suguru looks vaguely resigned.

You try again. “The matchmaking ceremony you ditched…?”

Satoru is characteristically unrepentant. “Which one?”

“...”

Suguru looks like he’s trying to stifle laughter.

All those poor girls…

“Masaru Sasaki,” Suguru murmurs. Satoru makes an annoyed face.

“ That girl. She was practically hanging off your arm—” Satoru bites the rest of his sentence off, blue eyes narrowing at Suguru. “You cheatin’ on me?”

Your palms immediately turn sweaty. It could be a joke. It could also not be. Sometimes, with Satoru (and even Suguru at times) it’s hard to tell.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Suguru replies blithely. “Maybe you’ve been neglecting me.”

You busy yourself with your lukewarm cup of tea, unsure of what to do. A second’s glance upwards and you’re met with an amused glint in Suguru’s eyes and a lazy grin curling at his lips.

If Suguru was lonely maybe that was why he sought you out in the first place. The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. You’re not one to comment on things that aren’t your business in the first place, but it seems more and more likely. You knew their boundaries. They knew you’d never push for anything they don’t want. If Satoru doesn’t like Sasaki-san, maybe they compromised on you.

You think back to Suguru’s words. They’ve settled on a compromise. That’s what you are, a compromise. The thought consoles you. In the end, it’s nothing serious. Nothing you should have given more than a second’s consideration. It’s as insignificant as a loose lipped comment. The two of them will have stopped fighting now. You’re glad for it.

Satoru snorts. “Neglecting you right into her open arms,” a derisive twist of his lips, “or should I say le—”

“She seems very nice!” You exclaim, sweating. “It’s not very nice of you to say things like that, Satoru.” You chide lightly, before you smile brightly at Suguru. “She’s very pretty.” You hope you come off encouragingly so that you can convey to Suguru that you are on his side. “She seems wonderful.”

Suguru blankly smiles back.

Luckily you’re saved from having to salvage the conversation when there’s a knock at the door. Your waitress returns with a cart of food, quickly laying down platter after platter. It doesn’t stop until almost every open space on the long wooden table has been filled with seafood. You stare at it. The abundance of it all. Maybe Satoru shouldn’t have doubled everything…

Your tea is refilled as Suguru murmurs his thanks. When the waitress takes her leave you’re still staring at all the food, unsure of where to even start when Suguru sets a stacked plate down in front of you.

You stare at the colorful array of sashimi and uni and the perfectly cooked wagyu. Your stomach already hurts at the coming richness of the meal, but now that the load of potentially ending Satoru and Suguru’s relationship has been lifted off of your shoulders you’re a bit hungrier than you were when you arrived.

Satoru keeps on loading your plate with more and more food. You pick up your chopsticks, intent on slowly shaving down the precariously tilting seafood tower on your plate when he conversationally asks, “So how was Nagoya?” as he places a large piece of uni on your plate.

You think of a sobbing, blood stained child clutching his mother’s severed hand in his arms. Then you think of Megumi.

Your appetite dies, stomach curling inwards.

They don’t know, you think as you look at the both of them seated across from you, waiting for your response. It was classified as a grade 2 mission after all. Two worlds shattered, and it hadn’t even merited a full time auxiliary manager. It’s considered beneath them now, eliciting the same mundane response as Suguru asking Satoru to check the week’s weather so that he can put umbrellas in the kids’ backpacks. The other week Suguru captured a curse that could have easily leveled Tokyo with a crushing tsunami. Satoru had been away in Malaysia.

It was just another child alone in the world, another corpse, another casualty.

You stare at your cup of tea. You hear Nanami’s gentle, quiet murmur in your ears. I heard.

You wonder if this is something you should even bother them with. There are always more important things to worry about than one of your bad days. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. Not really. You don’t matter. You never have.

“It was fine,” you hear yourself say. It was horrible. You’ve been having nightmares again. It’s been a long time since an assignment hit you this hard. “Just another assignment.”

“Did something happen?” Satoru stares you down.

“Not much.” You reply easily, wondering when it had gotten so easy to lie to them. Just about the small things.

You silently pick at a piece of hamachi. It’s not your place to get involved. You can’t get involved in the tragedy of all the assignments that make you feel as if everything you’ve ever done is redundant, even if you can logically acknowledge you’re unlikely to make a real difference. Not on a real, tangible level. It still makes you feel horrible.

You are suddenly, very, very tired.

“Are the kids home?” You want to see Megumi, wrap your arms around him, and squeeze him tightly just to reassure yourself he��s okay. You want him to never have to worry about jujustu society or the responsibility of being a jujustu sorcerer. You want him to be able to choose. It’s wishful thinking. It’s already late and the four of them should be getting ready for bed. You wish you could just hold Megumi, Tsumiki, and the twins. The four of them are so young, and already too old.

Suguru’s smile turns affectionate. “The twins are asleep by now. They had a late night yesterday. But Tsumiki’s probably still up doing her homework. I’m not sure about Megumi…”

“Probably sleeping,” you confirm. An early sleeper, and early riser. The boy had his habits.

“You wanna stop by?” Satoru asks casually.

You blink. You must be imagining the suggestion in his voice.

“I was just wondering about the kids,” you rush out, embarrassed for having even thought it in the first place. Of course not. It’s not as if they were expecting anything from you right now. If anything, you should bring the night to a wrap so the two of them can get back home instead of having to entertain you. “It’s getting pretty late out though, isn’t it? Maybe we should call it a—”

“You haven’t touched your food,” Suguru lightly frowns and although his displeasure isn’t aimed at you, you still feel somewhat chastened. “Still not hungry?”

“A-ah…” You pick your chopsticks once again. “Thank you for the meal,” you murmur, taking a bite of the first thing your chopsticks come into contact with. Octopus. You realize that it might have been rude of you to not eat anything when they’ve so graciously invited you to an expensive restaurant like this. Now that you’ve taken a complimentary swallow, you look up at them expectantly. “I don’t want to keep you two—”

“Maybe we should order some drinks,” Suguru takes a couple of bites out of his own food. “Satoru needs something sugary or he’ll be too restless to sleep tonight.” He sighs forlornly, despite his lips pulling into a teasing smile. “When he gets in a mood, he likes to push me around in bed.”

You blink.

Suguru looks at him, fond. “He’s a horrible sleeper.”

Satoru huffs. “And you love me for it.” A thoughtful pause. “I could use a drink.”

“Great.” Suguru presses the button on the table. It doesn’t take a full minute until your waitress appears in the room. “Your most sugary nonalcoholic drink and a cup of sugar. I’ll take a bottle of your most expensive Junmai Daiginjo. Two cups.”

You open your mouth to object, but Suguru beats you. There’s a concerned look on his face. “Is there something wrong with the food? I thought you would have at least finished your plate…”

Your waitress almost imperceptibly freezes, the smile high on her face. You look to her in a panic. “It’s delicious!” You look to Suguru and say once again, “It’s delicious!”

Satoru looks a few seconds away from breaking into loud laughter. He succumbs, snickering into his elbow.

Suguru breaks into a smile. “I’m glad. You’ll eat some more, won’t you?” Then to the waitress, he says, “Two cups.”

The waitress hightails it out of the room after a bow. You stare at your plate in silence as Suguru and Satoru have a pleasant conversation about how although Satoru hates going to the Zenin compound, he had found something interesting there the last time he visited (two weeks ago). Your ears perk when Suguru says heavenly restriction.

You take another bite of the food on your plate, intent on finishing half of it before your waitress comes back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable.

This time, your drinks are delivered by a waiter. You feel bad for your waitress who had probably asked to be transferred to a different room. Suguru pours you a cup as Satoru takes a long sip of what looks like a strawberry cream float. It looks like something out of an amusement park cafe, but Satoru looks satisfied.

You’re about to ask about the heavenly restriction, when Satoru eyes you.

“I should feed you,” he announces.

You stare at him. “What?”

He stands up abruptly. You watch as he makes his way to your side of the table in three long steps, and plops down next to you. He takes a large piece of uni and holds it up to your lips.

“Open up!” He says cheerily.

You do not open up.

He’s making fun of you, you’re sure of it. “You don’t need to feed me,” you say pointedly. You look to Suguru for help, but you only get a grin in response.

“Indulge him,” it almost sounds sympathetic. “He’s in a mood.”

Up close, his eyes are piercingly determined. You relent, opening your mouth as Satoru places the uni in your mouth.

“Now be good and finish your food,” he says smugly. “Or you can finish the rest on my lap.”

You stare at him in unabashed horror.

"At least try to look somewhat interested," Satoru deadpans.

Suguru snorts.

Under the threat of Satoru’s continued intervention, you slowly make your way through your plate as Suguru refills your cup. Time passes in a blur. Satoru is warm next to you, shoulder pressed to yours, and you resist the urge to lean on his shoulder. It’s almost reflexive, to sink into him. The two of them quietly talk about a child called Zenin Maki. You force your shoulders straight while their voices drift in and out, feeling your eyelids slowly dragging shut.

You blink when Suguru says your name. The two of them are looking at you.

“Sleepy?” Suguru inquires.

You slowly nod. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I should go.” You gather your things, but when you rifle through your bag to find your keys you realize they aren’t there. You pat your pockets, search your bag once more, and still. “My keys…”

Satoru lifts a finger to your face, the ring of your keys looped around his index. You reach out to grab it but Satoru lifts it away. You’re confused. Those are your keys. You reach for them again, but Satoru swiftly moves away. You’re debating on stopping him with your cursed technique. Infinity isn’t on, you can tell.

“Satoru—”

“How about a kiss first?” He murmurs, leaning in, lips hovering close.

Your bottom lip throbs, as if remembering the shape of Satoru’s teeth and the way it had drawn blood.

…

You’re already putting on your shoes. Satoru must have sneaked a few sips of Suguru’s alcohol. He’s drunk.

“I’ll stay somewhere else tonight,” you say quickly. Shoko would probably still be up. If not, there were always hotels around. In the morning you’d ask your building’s super to open your door. You have a spare key inside.

Satoru sputters. “Hold on!”

Suguru laughs, long and loud. You relish the sound, despite your back being turned against him. He says your name.

You pause, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. To give him the benefit of doubt if anything. Suguru pats the floor next to him.

You eye him. Suguru’s expression is full of innocuous intent.

“At least let me look at you before you leave,” Suguru sighs out. “Before you leave us again.”

Suguru looks sad. It makes you feel…kinda bad. You have been busy lately, haven’t you? (Avoiding the two of them.) You don’t like it either. You’re glad this dinner has resolved most of your worries. You crawl to him, intending to say your goodbyes to his face, but Suguru takes your hand.

You aren’t sure how you end up on his lap. You really aren’t. You were on the floor and now you aren’t, and Suguru’s chest pressed to your back. You open your mouth and then figuring against it, you close your mouth. You opt for staring down at your own lap and trying to stay still enough to rival a statue.

Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist. “Much better,” he murmurs, playing with the hem of your dress that reaches down to your ankles. “I like this color,” he says conversationally, as if your mind isn’t white blanket quiet in your panic. “Did Shoko get this for you?” His lips brush your ear.

You nearly bolt but Suguru’s arms hold you down.

“Pfft.”

You give Satoru a wide eyed look pleading for help from where he’s made himself comfortable on the floor in front of you, lying on his side, head propped up to the side by a hand.

…You hadn’t expected Satoru to help.

You really didn’t.

You feel your will to flee slowly drain out of you. Prey resigning itself to be dinner.

“Shoko…picked it out.”

“She likes dressing you,” Suguru says with a small laugh, releasing your hem and hiking your skirt up high enough for his hand to slide up your thigh in a caressing gesture. “How about you give Satoru and I a turn next?”

You blankly burn a hole into your lap, deathly mortified. “That’s…” a little embarrassing, you think. Why would they ever want to do that? Satoru is looking so intently at you that he could be jealous, and you think you might be sick. After all that talk about Suguru feeling neglected…

“Like…another dress?”

Suguru hums.

“...Shoes?”

Suguru laughs. You can feel his smile. "Among other things."

“S-Suguru,” you start, putting your hand over his arms locked around you. “I should really get going…”

He sighs, and you can feel it in his chest. “Right. Of course.”

You wait for him to loosen his arms, to free you, but he doesn’t move.

“...Suguru—”

“Kiss tax!” Satoru interrupts, suddenly in front of you. He’s insistent, leaning into you once again with a hand on your thigh, except you have nowhere to back away but into Suguru. “Just one and you’ll be on your way!”

This is humiliating. You want to die.

Satoru’s face hovers closer and closer. Without thinking you intercept his lips with a hand, muffling his mouth.

“We shouldn’t,” you blurt out. “Not in public.”

Satoru doesn’t deign you with a response. Instead his gaze exaggeratedly sweeps the room, as if to emphasize the lack of other people.

Someone could come in. Anyone could see. They don’t want to be accidentally seen with… you. “Nobody can know.” Then for good measure you say it again. “Nobody can know.”

Satoru isn’t happy. You can tell by the press of his lips. Suguru’s gaze bears into the top of your head. But you’re worried about their prospects. About everything they might regret. It’s best to keep this a secret. They’ll thank you for it later, you’re sure.

“Who car—”

“Please.”

Satoru momentarily glances upwards. He’s still unhappy. “Fine. Right Suguru?”

“That’s right,” you hear him say from behind you. His tone is carefully measured. You don’t want to look at him, and you can’t discern his feelings either. “A secret.”

You exhale. “Thank you.”

After a second of agonizing hesitation, you lean forward and press a small, short kiss to Satoru’s waiting lips. When you pull back, you shyly say, “kiss tax paid.”

“That was nothing,” Satoru says immediately. “Ten more.”

You frown.

“You forgot someone.” Suguru’s voice is light, almost chiding.

You didn’t forget. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this. You turn your head to the side and lean in. Suguru meets you halfway, lips soft on your own. Almost immediately, Suguru’s arms go lax, as a hand comes up to cup your face, thumb running along your cheek.

It lasts a second longer than Satoru’s kiss, which is already enough to get him whining about timing the length of your kisses which means more kissing.

All that matters is that you’re finally free. You jump to your feet, swipe your shoes, and run out the door without a second thought.

#sera reads #sorry I switch between first and last names all the time haha

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potteresque-ire · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I posted an ask regarding your view point on GGDD's safety by people shipping them openly by bus designs, digital hoardings in their country and various other ways. I am not sure if you have already replied because I can't seem to find it. If not, please notify in case you would be interested in posting, there is no pressure or complaints if the answer is not affirmative. Also, I am hoping to read your piece on current issue DD is facing in relation to Nike. I am sure a lot of people enjoy your straight, detailed and analytical thought process and information presentation. A lot of people especially ifans needs to understand the perspective and position an actor or any national level influencer/celebrity is in when they are a citizen of totalitarian regime.

I would love to read, if you decide to write.

Thank you for your blog. It is highly appreciated and welcomed.

Hello Anon! I sincerely apologise ~ my ask box has been very full, and I answer based on time availability (which isn’t much) and “urgency” of the matter (for example, the recent post on Dangai/WoH skipped the line because it’s current). My whim too, occasionally and admittedly; sometimes I’d like to take a breather and talk about something a little more fannish and fun (like window cleaning robots!) Above all, I prefer giving delayed but responsible, or even no answers over irresponsible ones, given some of the subject matter I touch upon. I’ll ... probably have to write up an ask box policy at some point.

Now, my thoughts about Dd’s current situation ... or maybe, my thoughts about the things around it ...

I should explain where my highly disorganised thoughts this time come from first. I’m a Hong Konger by birth, and I grew up at a time when it was still conventional for Hong Kongers to refer themselves as Chinese, following the tradition of referring to the (believed) origin of one’s paternal family as our own origin. I’ve never, however, sworn allegiance to the Chinese government; the two citizenships I’ve ever held are 1) United Kingdom (Hong Kong was still a British crown colony when I was there), and 2) United States.

The distinction between China, the country, and Chinese government, as the country’s rulership, has therefore always been clear to me. You can love, feel a bond with the country, its people and culture and its 5,000 year old history, without having feeling anything with its 71 years-young government with foreign (soviet) roots. To quote Hamilton: Oceans rise, empires fall, and just the central plains of China alone went through a total of 13 recorded dynasties, during which its border waxed and waned, often splitting what is now Chinese territory into multiple countries under different rulership that sometimes split along ethnic lines—China, in that sense, isn’t even historically a country as we define one today; it’s a piece of land in East Asia where different countries have taken over, risen and fallen. And the major ethnic group, Han, which also includes the vast majority of the current political elite, wasn’t always in control. The Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) was famously built by Mongolians; the Qing dynasty (1636–1912), Manchurians. Beijing, the current capital of China, began its illustrious history as The Capital City for the non-Han based, north-of-central-plain dynasties of Liao and Jin. Liao people were believed to be either Mongolic or Tungusic. Jin people were Tungusic, and would eventually become Manchurians. Xinjiang (新疆), meanwhile, was only under the influence of the ancient Chinese empires sporadically, and its formal conquest / incorporation by a Chinese dynasty didn’t happen until ~ 1760, and by the (Manchurian) Qing dynasty. Its late incorporation is also reflected in its name that means, literally, “New Territory”.

What does this all mean? It means: 1) Loving China =/= loving the Chinese Communist Party; 2) Chinese culture =/= Han culture; especially the Han culture infused with “Core Socialist Values” as defined by the Chinese Communist Party; 3) X dynasty’s territory (where X = one of the ancient Chinese dynasties) =/= What has to be People Republic of China’s territory.

And by writing down these three =/=, which I’d argue are simply conclusions from historical facts and logic, I’ve committed an act of subversion in the eyes of the current Chinese government. Remove the “/” in “=/=“, and you’ve got three of the most important talking points of Chinese propaganda.

The sacred, un-violatable rules the Chinese government tells its people.

Why do I mention them? Because the scrutiny, the attack on Dd read familiar to me, and is probably familiar too to all those who’ve kept even a brief eye on Hong Kong and Taiwanese entertainers who work in China. When a topic that violates one of these propaganda points makes news (for example, the HK protest, Hong Kong/Taiwan Independence), entertainers from Hong Kong / Taiwan—anyone who’ve achieved name recognition—are often placed under immediate scrutiny by Chinese netizens to see whether and when they’ll confirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government. The argument is that only those who display absolute loyalty to the Chinese government deserves to earn China’s money, and the main motivation behind this scrutiny, in this case, is mistrust: Hong Kong, after all, is crawling with British loyalists and rioters according to Chinese propaganda, with separatists who’re conspiring with foreign governments to overthrow the Chinese government; the democratic island nation of Taiwan, meanwhile, is supposedly a rogue child who has escaped its mother (China) ’s arms for the past 70+ years—the child who, by the way, shall be brought to their knees (along with into their mother’s arms) by military intervention. Both places, in other words, are serial violators of =/= 1) and 3), and not to be trusted. If their entertainers fail to affirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government, or if the timing of their patriotic display is perceived as off, vicious accusations—similar to those Dd has endured—will fly, and calls for boycott begin.

Here’s a related observation, while I’m at it ... no one in c-ent is really allowed to keep their political views quiet, even if they’re not particularly well-known. No one can say, politics isn’t for me, it’s too ugly/too complicated/doesn’t fit my image and shove it under the proverbial carpet. Under an authoritarian government, control is exerted via politics, via propaganda that seeps into day-to-day language. It’s an oil slick that taints and swims in even the smallest crevice of life—there’s no where to hide.

And Dd is far more famous than almost all of these HK and Taiwan based entertainers. 表態 — a public announcement of his stance — is the only option left for him when he becomes the centre of a sensitive political issue such as this one. And there’s really only one stance he can take.

In that sense, what happened to Dd isn’t something I’m too worried about—this kind of attack under the guise of a “loyalty check” isn’t new; and the motivation behind the scrutiny of Dd is the safer to-take-down-his-career rather than political mistrust. I believe this storm shall pass soon, as long as his team doesn’t make an unexpected, big mistake. His non-fan fellow country people will probably view him with a more positive light as well: he walked the walk and did what he believed is patriotic — breaking a contract like this is no lip service when in China, performative patriotism is often lip service — reportedly even among the top Chinese Communist Party officials.

If I must find more defence for his stance ... please forgive me, Anon, but I don’t have much more to say than what I said last night, what I said before about China’s access to information—

—because, admittedly, following, talking about this incident is difficult for the Hong Konger in me, even if I’ve expected this kind of incidents from the moment I joined this fandom, even if I’ve expected, as I’ve learned from RL experience, that most people I adore in China will at some point support causes that I deeply disagree with. The online patriotic rally by c-motors and c-turtles under the associated Weibo tag, while impressive and good for Dd, is nonetheless heartbreaking/frightening for me to watch. Why? Because I know this can easily turn into a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements sometime in the future. Because I know the rally will probably be as impressive if this has been a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements. Frankly, I stopped thinking about Nike as I scrolled through the posts — I was thinking about the now impossibly wide gulf that separates most Chinese and a Hong Konger like myself; I was thinking about why a Gg / Dd performance can trend on Twitter in 10+ countries all over the world but makes almost no noise in Hong Kong or Taiwan, places that should’ve most easily fallen in love with Gg / Dd with their closeness in language and customs.

As it turns out, the closeness has only driven HK and Taiwan away; the closeness only brings them more insight of the beast—the government that looms over, cast a long shadow over everything that lives under it, including Gg and Dd.

I was reminded of the fact that many young Hong Kongers probably see me as a traitor just for being a turtle — young Hong Kongers who are n>1 generation immigrants from China, who never spend years reconciling the conflicting viewpoints, the even more conflicting emotions when it comes to this ... almost irreconcilable difference now in political beliefs north and south of the China-HK border. Unlike the older generations who often have immigrants/refugees from China for immediate, un-severable family, who often don’t have the option to walk away from the conflicts, to simply point to the other side and call it evil.

And here are my even-more-conflicting emotions:

While, over the years, I’ve learned to harbour no ill feelings to the vast majority of supporters of pro-CCP causes—I reserve blame for those who conceal the truth, who’re involved in its policy making, or people who live outside the Firewall and should know better (such as every HK entertainer who’ve expressed support)—I’ve also learned, over the same years, to be fully, painfully aware that every endorsement is still an endorsement for the regime to carry on its ways, and the damage is real, is significant even if the endorsers may not know about the true nature of their endorsements.

A simple thought experiment: the sheer size of China’s population means it can easily control the narrative on English-speaking social media. The Chinese government already has a history of mobilising its people to scale the Great Firewall and spread its propaganda on, for example, Twitter. It has also mobilised fan circles for propaganda purpose. Again, as a thought experiment *only* (ie, SJD!), imagine the Chinese government mobilising Dd’s Weibo supertopic fans to spread misinformation about Xinjiang.

Dd’s supertopic has 5+ million members—all savvy social media users and many skilled in the art of comment control (a collective effort, performed by fans to bury critiques/dissent on message boards); the total number of Uyghurs in Xinjiang is ~12 million, but their communications are heavily scrutinised and they can’t really talk. Just for the sake of argument, we’ll add the ~ 70% pro-democracy HK population to Uyghur’s side: that’s another 5 million, but most of them aren’t good at raging a battle on social media.

Which side will control the narrative in the end?

And so: I understand why Dd’s statement is what it is. I don’t fault him for making it. Still, I can’t in good conscience say to anyone, myself included, that the statement is a personal opinion and doesn’t matter. It matters a lot. His announcement is another stab to the Uyghurs, and the knife is sharp because of Dd’s social influence.

(Today, I saw Dd’s name for the first time in a Hong Kong pro-democracy online news site.)

The statement carried this sentence:

國家尊嚴不容侵犯，堅決維護祖國利益 The dignity of the country is not to be violated; the interest of our motherland is to be resolutely defended. Firstly: it’s character-for-character propaganda language. Secondly: even if we do not consider the labor camps, this is the condition in Xinjiang’s city of Urumqi. Where’s the dignity of the people who’re living there and who’s preventing that from being violated? The interest of the motherland—what kind of motherland answers an allegation of human rights violation with “interest” (利=profit, advantage; 益=benefit)? What kind of motherland has “protects its interest” being synonymous with surveillance and abuse of its own people?

I have a motherland, but it’s not the one in this narrative.

The issues of Xinjiang and the Uyghurs have also become even closer to Hong Kongers since 2019, when the fates of Hong Kongers and the Uyghurs became intricately tied—as dual examples of Chinese government’s human rights violations and indeed, these two populations who previously had very little in common have shown solidarity with each other against all odds. Their connection being this one simple, awful fact: both having what they value most stripped away by the same government—the traditions, religion and culture for the Uyghurs, the promised freedoms and hopes for democracy for Hong Kongers. As an online meme goes: “Today’s Xinjiang; Tomorrow’s Hong Kong” — expressing the fear that Hong Kongers may soon be subjected to the same surveillance as the Uyghurs today, for the same reason of having put up a fight against who they saw as their oppressors (this article offers an objective summary of what led to the 2009 clash between the Uyghurs and the Chinese government, which precipitated the former’s treatment as will-be terrorists today)(Note the role the US played in this.).

As such, I cannot look away from Xinjiang. As such, I cannot look at our two beautiful stars, Gg and Dd, without also seeing the flag with its blood red looming behind with its own five stars—the biggest of them symbolising the Chinese Communist Party.

How do I reconcile all the feelings? As I said, it’s a constant work-in-progress, possibly a lifelong one. Re: Gg and Dd, that’s what I tell myself at the moment: that my being an i-turtle shall not sway my view or silence me on any sociopolitical issues, that my being a fan of anything, anyone shall not mean any other human life is suddenly worth less to me, or its suffering, something I shall suddenly look away from. The moment this becomes true—that I find myself depreciating human lives, or ignoring the pain of others for the sake of my fannish pursuits—that’s when I must leave my fan identity until I find my discipline (I do understand the lure of a happy fandom bubble, and I’m far from immune to it). I’m a person before I’m a fan.

These are the rules of my world.

我的世界不退讓。

#pie answers #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

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nhlandotherimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Family isn’t Always Blood-Part 3

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 |

Summary: will it be a boy? A girl? Will Kinsey and Elias be able to plan a wedding while expecting? Guess you’ll have to find out.

Author’s Notes: This took me WAY too long I’m sorry! Let me know what you think though? Was it what you expected? Was it bad? Good? I’d love to hear from you :)

Word Count: approx. 4.5k

Warnings: The usual really. Lots of crying (both happy and sad tears), pregnancy, absent parents, strong language, nothing too crazy though. Let me know if there is anything I should add here please

3…

2…

Elias’ fingers find the zipper on the garment bag, and I place my hand gently over his. His hand shakes under mine, and although I know it’s mostly excitement, I can tell he's nervous as we slowly pull down the zipper together.

As the garment bag falls away, my heart stops. There is no way this is happening, not right now! Elias’ hand drops from mine as he steps back slightly, as the people around me seem to let out a collective gasp. Tears burn my eyes, and before I can stop them, they’re falling down my face. This is NOT what I expected.

“Kinsey?” Elias’ voice is nervous, likely because I’ve yet to react to the scene in front of me. The jersey was not pink, or blue. In fact it wasn’t even a jersey at all. In place of the jersey we had all been anticipating, was a white onesie with red lettering across the front.

My hands at some point made their way to my face as I’m now using them to hold in the ugly sobs wracking my body. The tears in my eyes blurring the words in front of me, but it doesn’t matter, because I’ll never forget them. I’ll never unsee them. The five words that changed my life.

WILL YOU MARRY MY DADDY?

“Baby, turn around. Please?” Elias' voice is gentle when he speaks, but it sounds loud in the intense silence that has settled over everyone.

I slowly turn around, my knees feel weak, my vision is blurred, and my entire body is trembling. It’s a miracle I’m still standing, and even breathing for that matter. When I’ve finally turned around completely, my whole world stops. Elias slowly drops down on one knee, and as he looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes no one else is here. It’s just him and I at this moment. A nervous smile on his face as he slowly pulls open the velvet box I hadn’t even noticed until now, I lose it. I collapse to my knees in front of him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and as I cry into his shoulder.

“Last time I checked I’m the only one supposed to be on their knee for this.” Elias chuckles, and the room around us does the same, reminding me we aren’t alone. I lean back to look at him, but don’t let go. His face is blotchy, and his eyes are bloodshot as tears stream silently down his face. “Kins, you amaze me more and more each day. You’re an amazing woman, girlfriend, mother, and there is absolutely no question that you’d make the best wife. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to make you mine. Kinsey Waters, will you marry me?”

“R-really?” The word is choked out in between breaths, as I search his face for hesitation.

“Yes!” He chuckles, lifting the ring up in front of my face. He shakes it teasingly, eyebrows raising as if to say ‘would I be lying?’.

“Yes.” The word tumbles past my lips, and I can’t stop it. Not that I want to. “Oh my god! Yes!” The squeal that escapes me is quickly drowned out by the cheers surrounding me, as I gather Elias’ face in my hands and crash my lips to his.

I cling to Elias like I don’t want to let go, grasping at his shirt, his hair, anything to ground myself. The kiss, the moment, this man; it’s all so overwhelming. I never want it to end.

As it turns out, not everyone is on board with that. “Okay! Okay! That’s enough, can we please find out about the baby. There will be time to fornicate after we’re all gone!” Brock yells from behind the camera, as more laughter fills the apartment.

Elias groans in response, but pulls away. I smile brightly as he slips the ring onto my finger, and for the first time I actually look at the ring. It’s simple, not too flashy, and yet I know if I saw the receipt I’d likely vomit at the price tag. It’s elegant. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and so much more. “It’s perfect.” I breathe out, and Elias chuckles. Bringing my hand to his lips he places a gentle kiss to my knuckles before rising to his feet, helping me off the floor in the process.

“Please tell me you have the actual jersey somewhere.” I giggle, catching Brock tapping his foot impatiently out of the corner of my eye.

“I do, one sec!” Elias quickly leaves the room, and I’m immediately swarmed by the other WAGs and Brock. Brock is quick to zoom in on the ring with the camera, as he makes commentary that is definitely not needed, but something Elias and I will both enjoy when we watch the recording back later.

“Okay! ” Elias announces, as he makes his way back into the room. “Are you ready for the real thing?” He’s now holding an identical garment bag to the one we had unzipped minutes prior, and I can’t help but wonder just how difficult this whole surprise was to pull off.

Elias removes the first hanger from the stall, and replaces it with the new garment bag. He motions me over, a large grin on his face, as everyone goes back to where they had previously been standing.

Elias’ hand finds mine again, as we both grip the tiny zipper. It feels different this time. Maybe it’s the ring sitting on my finger, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the countdown begins around us for the second time today, I become more and more impatient.

3…

2…

My stomach flutters, and I can’t bring myself to look as Elias’ hand moves with my own to pull down the zipper. Instead I watch him. His eyes bright as they seemingly shimmer with excitement. He’s so beautiful, and he’s mine. My fiancé, and the father of my child. The new weight on my ring finger, and my round stomach physical proof of just that.

Almost instantaneously, I feel his hand fall from mine and it finds his face, along with the other. He falls again to one knee, but this time he cries into his hands as everyone around us erupts into cheers. The moment feels absolutely surreal, and overwhelming, and I have yet to even look at the tiny jersey in the garment bag. It doesn’t feel like it matters, not in this moment anyway. The only things that matter are that we are happy, life is good, it’s pink, and we are a family. It’s pink.

Immediately my eyes snap back to the now open garment bag that my eyes had previously skipped over. The tiny jersey hanging before me was a tiny replica of the one I was wearing. It’s pink alright. It’s a girl.

As I turn back to Elias, his arms wrap around my waist as he begins whispering against my stomach. Again, all of his words muttered in Swedish. All I can make out is ‘I love you”, and ‘my girls’, and even without understanding any of the other words, my heart swells and tears wet my cheeks again.

I card my fingers through his hair, the beautiful ring standing out even more against the blonde. Cameras and flashes, along with many cheers and exclamations of ‘I knew it!’, fill both the room and my heart. This is it, the family I’ve always craved. Although it may not be conventional, it’s mine.

———

The movie Elias is playing on the tv does little to hold my attention. Not even because it’s bad, in fact it’s one of my favourites, but my head is all over the place today.

“Everything okay love?” Elias asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry when I look at him. I nod, but it’s evidently not enough for him to believe me. “Talk to me Kins.” He continues, pressing pause on the movie, removing my only form of distraction.

“She doesn’t have a name.” I’m deflecting, and Elias knows it. Instead of pressing the issue further though, he smiles sweetly over at me. I’m stretched out comfortably across the majority of the couch, my legs draping across his lap. His hand lightly rubs my thigh in comfort.

“Well did you have any in mind?” I shake my head stretching my hands over my growing bump, my ring on full display. Elias clears his throat, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he looks nervous. “What about your mom?”

“What about her?” My response is unnecessarily rude, but his question caught me completely off guard. He’s been trying for months to get me to talk about her, and I’ve successfully shut him down every time.

“Did you maybe want to incorporate her name?” His eyes refuse to meet my own, instead they stay fixed on his fingers that are busying themselves with the hem of my sweats. The scoff that leaves my mouth is dramatic, sure, but I’m beyond pissed he’d even make that suggestion.

“Why would I? She’s done nothing for me.”

Elias’ face falls, and his eyes meet mine. The look of pity he sends me would normally make me feel better, but today it makes me even more angry. “I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“Yeah well you thought wrong didn’t you!” I snap, cutting him off as I rise to my feet. I stand up too quickly, and immediately I feel light headed. My knees buckle a bit, and my vision goes fuzzy momentarily. Elias is quick to his feet, hands finding my waist to steady me.

Once my vision is back, and I feel steady again, I push away from Elias. He calls after me, but I just keep walking.

It’s not his fault, and I’m being dramatic. As soon as I step into our shared room, I know I’m out of line. It’s embarrassing, my whole life is. How can I tell someone, like Elias, who loves their mom dearly, that when I think of the woman who gave birth to me, the thoughts aren’t pleasant. Very little about my childhood was. Yes, I sound ungrateful, and to a degree I am. There were always good times, always. However it’s hard to look back fondly on those times, when almost all of them are plagued with heartbreak or disappointment in some form or another.

As I close the bedroom door behind me angrily, I pull off my sweats and crawl into the empty bed. Though I’ve slept without Elias many nights given his schedule, the bed has never felt so lonely. Tears soak my pillowcase, but my body barely even reacts. No dramatic sobbing, or trembling. I just lay here, numb, tears flowing steadily.

After what felt like forever, but was likely only a few minutes, the bedroom door creaks open. I don’t dare to acknowledge Elias as he closes the door behind him quietly. I lay silently, my back to him, as he removes his shirt. The covers pull back, and I feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind me.

We both lay there silently for a moment, neither of us moving. Only a few inches separate us, but they feel like miles. I can’t take the silence, or the fact that I can practically hear the gears turning in my fiancé’s head.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, sniffling slightly. Elias lets out a breath, before wrapping himself around me. He places a gentle kiss to my head, letting his hand travel under my shirt to rest on my bare stomach.

“Me too.” He whispers into my hair. “I should’ve known, I just thought because it was a tradition, that maybe you’d want to. I didn’t mean to upset you Kins. I’m really sorry.” His voice shakes a little, but he takes a breath again to steady himself before adding, “I love you.”

Before I can even respond to him, it hits me. I sit up quickly, and Elias’ arm falls into my lap. He pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes widening with concern. “Adeline.”

“What?” He is obviously confused, and I can’t blame him. I just ignored his entire apology to blurt out some random name.

“Adeline Irene Pettersson. Addy for short.” I pause, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my wave of excitement. “I don’t know. What do you think?” I pray the nerves aren’t apparent in my voice. Picking a name for a person is a big deal, it has to be perfect.

“Adeline.” Elias repeats the name out loud thoughtfully. The name rolls off of his tongue beautifully, and I can’t fight the smile growing on my face. “Kinsey, I think it’s perfect.”

Elias rolls onto my legs, his face resting just in front of my stomach. I lean back, and run a hand through his hair.

Placing soft kisses to my stomach, Elias once again whispers to the baby. “Adeline, you have the most amazing momma. She loves you so much. Probably more than she loves me, and that’s a lot.” I can’t help but giggle softly at his words, despite the tears in my eyes. “You’re so loved, and we cannot wait to meet you.”

I smile down at Elias, a single tear slipping down my face. He returns the smile, but it quickly falls as my eyes widen in shock. “She’s kicking!” I practically scream, grabbing Elias’ wrist, bringing his hand over to where I had just felt our daughter kick. He waits hopefully for more movement.

Moments pass, and still nothing. “C’mon Addy, do it for daddy.” I plead, my heart breaking at the disappointment on Elias’ face.

As if she had actually understood the task she’d been given, the baby kicks even harder than before. Her foot jams hard into my stomach, right against her father’s waiting palm. The feeling, although still relatively new for me, was an entirely new experience for him. His eyes nearly pop out of his head, jaw practically hitting the floor.

“A daddy’s girl already?” I giggle, another tear slipping down my cheek. “There is no hope for me now.”

Elias shakes his head, and glances up at me briefly. His eyes find mine for just a second, with a smile on his face he looks back at my stomach. “You’re not going to be a daddy’s girl or a momma’s girl are you Addy?” He whispers, as the baby kicks again as if in response to his question. “You’re gonna be your own girl. Strong and independent, just like your momma.”

Elias fell asleep like that a while later. Head resting on my hip, a hand on my stomach, while my hands threaded through his soft hair. Life is good. I have a family now, and I would do anything for either of them. “I will make sure you never question my love for you both. No one deserves that.” I whisper before drifting to sleep myself.

———

“Shit!” Something hitting the floor loudly, followed immediately by Elias cursing wakes me. I’m quickly on my feet and rushing down the hall. I had been asleep on the couch, having passed out while reading some parenting book. So, when I round the corner into our bedroom, I’m confused to find it lacking my fiancé’s presence.

“Elias? Where are you?” I call out, fear lacing my words.

“I’m in here sweetheart.” He calls back. I follow his voice further down the hall to the guest room.

As I reach the doorway of the guest room, the scene in front of me has a giggle bubbling up my throat. Elias is on the floor, surrounded by various tools and wooden pieces, a frustrated, and thoroughly exhausted look painting his face. “Everything okay in here?”

“Wha- oh yeah.” He huffs, tucking a pencil behind his ear. He’s holding two identical pieces of wood in either hand, letting out another noise of frustration.

“Whatcha doing?” I place the back of my hand over my mouth trying to suppress my laughter, though my smile is audible in my words.

“Well.” He groans, placing both pieces down before pulling himself to his feet. “The plan was to have the crib together before you woke up from your nap.” He walks to me placing his hands softly on my hips. “Though, as you can see, that hasn’t happened.”

“Well the instructions can’t be that confusing are they?” I smile, and his face falls slightly. “You did use the instructions. Right?” Elias’ cheeks darken, and his eyes fall to his feet.

“I thought I could do it on my own.” He mumbles, and there is no stopping my laugh now. He frowns in embarrassment, as I do my best to catch my breath.

“Babe! The instructions don’t do it for you, they are a guideline for you to do it. On your own.” I explain shaking my head with a giggle, and pushing past him into the room. I quickly find the instructions crumpled into a ball on the floor. I unfold it, and read through it quickly.

“Well?” His voice hopeful, as he watches me inspect the now crinkled paper.

“Yeah I have no idea.” I sigh, leaning against the wall. “Time to call in the boys I think.”

———

“Who thought it was wise to let the three of you do this?” I giggle, placing three beer down on the dresser.

“You?” Quinn answers, eyebrows furrowed in confusion while Elias sends me a glare.

“Oh right. Well I’ll just blame my poor judgement on the pregnancy.”

Elias is obviously getting quite flustered about the whole process. He curses in Swedish, while poor Quinn sits beside him looking scared for his life. Brock finally finishes screwing two pieces together, and beams over at me before grabbing a beer. “Thanks Kins!”

“You’re very welcome Brock.” I place a hand on my stomach and make a point of talking dramatically. “See Addy? That’s why uncle Brock is our favourite.”

“Addy?” Quinn and Brock both ask in unison.

“Adeline. Addy for short.” Elias explains, with a smile bright enough to blind someone.

“What do you guys think?” I ask, pulling my lip between my teeth. Sure, we don’t need anyone’s approval, but their opinions are very important to both Elias and myself.

“It’s cute!” Quinn smiles at me.

“Cute?” Brock sends Quinn a look I could only describe as a mix between shock and disappointment. My heart rate increases. Great Brock hates it! “It's absolutely beautiful!”

The sigh of relief that leaves my body has all three men laughing. I can’t help but join in, as the three of them begin bickering over the next step in the crib building process. They are always so chaotic, and yet I love every second of the chaos. This baby will likely learn all kinds of trouble from Brock and Quinn, but I certainly wouldn’t want it any other way.

———

As my pregnancy progresses, Elias becomes more and more doting almost daily. Not letting me lift anything bigger than a book, tying my shoes, helping me get dressed, you name it and he’s done it. Honestly, it’s become slightly annoying. On nights like this though, I truly appreciate it.

Elias sits on one end of the couch, as I lay across its length, my feet in his lap. He rubs the balls of my feet, as I write in the wedding planner he’d purchased not long after our engagement. He smiles softly at me, as I chew the end of my pen deep in thought as I stare at the guest list.

“How many groomsmen do you want?” The question falls past my lips as he reaches over to pull the pen from between my teeth.

“Well, definitely I’d want my brother as my best man, and probably three more guys. To keep it even just how you like it.” Elias winks, nudging my leg with a chuckle. I roll my eyes, but smile anyway, because he’s absolutely right. Even numbers are always nice.

“Okay.” Four people is reasonable, but now I have to find a maid of honour and three bridesmaids. That shouldn’t be hard, but I have no idea who to ask. Holly for sure was a given, but beyond her I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Are we inviting your parents?” Elias’ question comes entirely out of left field, and it feels like someone punched me in the throat. Were we? Do I want to? Should I? They only know about Elias from a singular instagram post. They don’t even know about the baby.

Elias must see the gears in my head turning, because he sends me a soft smile. “Why don’t we make invitations for them, and you can decide later if you want to send them or not? No need to let it stress you out too much babe.”

Reluctantly I agree. Would I regret not inviting them? Would I regret inviting them?

———

I’ve spent the last week making the invitations, painting each by hand. Was it crazy to do? Yes absolutely. I know that, but I want them to be personal.

“Have you even moved since I left?” Elias’ voice startles me. He left some time ago for his morning practice, at that point I had already been up working on them for an hour. He chuckles as I shrug, and places a kiss to my temple. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet, you’re going to marry me.” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.

He places a sweet kiss to my lips, pulling away with a smirk. “Who told you that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shove a hand playfully into his chest. “Well you don’t have to, but if I just spent a whole week making these invitations and there isn’t going to be a wedding,” I pause sending him a ‘threatening’ glare. “You better run Pettersson.”

Throwing his head back, Elias laughs heartily. Hand clutching his stomach, as he struggles to catch his breath. “You’re adorable.” He manages to get out between laughs.

“Great, so you’ll drop these off at the post office on your way to the rink later.” Punctuating my request with a wink.

A groan leaves my body as I pull myself from the chair at the kitchen table. Elias is quickly by my side in aid, no longer laughing. His face twists in concern, hands finding my hips. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll drop them off. Now come nap with me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he wraps a hand softly around my wrist, pulling me gently in the direction of our bedroom.

I can’t argue. Instead I follow him, body aching from how I’d been sitting at the table all morning. Elias carefully pulls back the covers, rearranging my pillows, and strips down to just his sweats. I quietly thank him as I attempt to get comfortable, something that’s become increasingly more difficult as of late.

Climbing in behind me, Elias pulls me into his side and places a hand gently across my growing bump. “You going to let Momma rest Addy?” He asks softly, eyes already closing. I watch him closely, and a small smile forms on his face as he rubs gentle circles on my stomach.

“You know watching someone sleep is kind of weird.” His voice is gravely and my face flushes in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t-“

“Mhm.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes not opening once. “Get some rest babe.”

“Fine.” I grumble, placing my head on his chest. His breathing evens out, and his heart beat is steady in my ear. I place a hand on his chest, curling into his side the best I can given the fact my stomach is in the way. My fingers lazily trace patterns across his bare chest, eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“Love you Kins.” Elias’ voice is low, and I can hear how tired he is.

“Love you too Lias.”

It’s not long before Elias is snoring quietly beneath me. Everything feels so right, here in his arms. Like nothing bad could happen. With the feeling of ease settling into my bones, it isn’t long before I’m falling asleep too.

———

Somehow I managed to sleep through Elias getting up and getting ready. When I finally wake up, he is long gone.

Picking up my phone, my face lights up at the message displayed on my screen.

Elias❤️: I let you sleep. You needed it. Don’t worry though, the invitations were mailed. There is some pizza in the fridge for you if you want it. See you tonight xx

I respond with a quick thank you text, making sure to wish him luck with his game. Grabbing some pizza I settle into the sofa, and turn the game on.

Watching Elias play hockey always manages to put a smile on my face. He’s so incredibly talented, and extremely humble. It’s one of the many things I love about him.

No matter how important hockey is to him though, he always makes sure I know that our family is more important. Always. It’s the reassurance I never knew I needed, but Elias has always made sure it’s there without being asked.

———

Lazy Sundays have become somewhat routine for Elias and I. We wake up, Elias works out while I write, we eat breakfast together, and we spend the rest of the day working on our own things. Today has gone a lot like that.

Currently I’m editing some of my writings while Elias scrolls through Instagram from his spot beside me. Aside from the clicking of my keyboard as I type, and an occasional chuckle from Elias, the room is peaceful. That is until there is a knock on the door. “Babe can you answer that please?”

Elias hums in response, pulling himself from the couch. We aren’t expecting anyone, but it’s not uncommon for one of the boys to drop in, or to have someone trying to sell us something on a Sunday. So much to my surprise it’s a woman’s voice at the door, asking for me specifically. “Is Kinsey here?”

Elias walks back into the living room, a look of confusion on his face. “There is someone at the door for you babe?” His statement sounds more like a question, and has my heart rate increasing. Who could be at the door looking for me? What happened?

Setting my laptop on the coffee table, I pull myself awkwardly from the couch. I take a moment to adjust my tshirt and fix my hair before rounding the corner. The figure standing in the doorway, has me stopping dead in my tracks. My face pales, as my body goes rigid. This must be some sick joke.

Grasped in her hand is an envelope. One I recognize well, because I had sealed it weeks ago. I knew making that invite was a bad idea.

“Mom?”

———

Another cliff hanger? Why not? Let me know what you think! Part 4 is going to take some time, but I will get it out eventually I promise!

Tagging: @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @heatherawoowoo @dripkingpetey @ya-pucking-nerd @jonnytoews19

#FiAB #elias pettersson #elias pettersson fanfiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl #hockey

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