#and when she was at a meeting discussing my needs she relayed that story and said i thought 'rape'

[autisticmight]

i mean it's all because of WHY i'm in the woods in the first place. if i'm walking poppy in the woods then i'd rather run into a man than a bear. maybe the man is also walking a dog. a man taking a walk in the local woods is not something to be afraid of

HOWEVER. if i am magically portalled into a dark forest with no reason or explanation i would rather there be a bear than a man because i have just been deposited in a horror story and human depravity is far different from bear depravity

[awearywritersworld]

the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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[anthropologyruinseverything]

“Warm Nights”

Chapter 2 - 2.9k words

Damian Priest x Black!CurvyFemReader

🚨The spice is mild, like lemon pepper, but it’s there! 18+ only please! 🚨

Request for @xbutterflius-effectusx 🫶🏽

I’ve really enjoyed writing this and it’s just taken on a mind of its own! This is halfway, I’ve got two additional chapters planned. Hope yall enjoy! It’ll also be found on my AO3 page.

Now on with the story!

Chapter 2

**Your POV**

Two days later found you and Rhea having brunch in an out of the way mom-and-pop diner in town. She chewed a french fry pensively as she mulled over the story you’d relayed about his behavior the other night. “I dunno why he’s such a dick sometimes. Fucking hell, they say we’re the moody ones.”

You laughed and but moved the fruit on your plate around with your fork instead of eating anything. It had stung when Damian suddenly went cold the other night but you’d be damned if you let him know. “Maybe I said something?” You sighed and Rhea launched a deep fried starch sliver at you.

“No, that’s all him babe. The least he could do is apologize.”

As if the universe found this whole situation hilarious your phone dinged with a message from a number you didn’t have saved. In French.

*Je suis désolé pour l’autre soir. - D.P.*

“Huh, speak of the devil.”

Rhea sat up and leaned in. “What? Did he text you?”

You nodded and showed her, her pale nose scrunching. “S’that mean?”

“It’s french, says he’s sorry for the other night.”

“He knows you speak French?”

Realizing he’d been listening and paying attention gave you butterflies. “Oui. What should I say?”

She hummed and folded her arms over her chest with a characteristic smirk. “That’s the best he’s got?”

You laughed at her, tempted to ignore the message when another came through.

DP: *Y/N? Is this the right number?*

Rhea barked a laugh. “Impatient much.”

Biting your lip you typed out a reply.

Y/N: *Yeah it’s me. Who helped you with my number and the french?*

DP: *Sami*

Ah, figures. You and the ginger had shared some good conversations at the training center and exchanged numbers when he had offered advice if you ever needed.

DP: *Let me make it up to you after the show tomorrow?*

That caught you by surprise. “Huh.”

“What babe?” Rhea was waiting, tapping a finger impatiently.

“He asked if he could make it up to me. I-I don’t know Rhea. Maybe I should just leave it alone.” Your feelings for Damian had come into sharper focus when you’d danced but it was clear he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you in the moment. It was hard to admit when you like him so much but you’ve always been one to take things in from as many perspectives as you can. And when something like your hearts at stake you can’t be too careful.

DP: *Please?*

“What’s he’s saying now?”

“Please.”

“Ha, you’re serious? I’ve never heard of him being so nice. And apology *and* a please?” She sucked her teeth and made a funny face. “I’d like you two together I think.”

“Rhea…”

She snatched your phone before you had a chance to argue. “Hey!”

“Nope!” She dodged and with unfair speed fired off a reply.

Y/N: *Sí*

“I-ugh girl!” You thew her a glare but she just laughed. “Grow up!”

“Nevah! Now c’mon, we gotta make that meeting for the new tour.” Rhea hopped to her feet and extended a hand, leading you out the door as you stared at your phone.

DP: *Wear something nice, dark blue*

You felt warmth spread through you. Normally you may have taken offense to such a demand but from Damian it made you flutter in all the right places.

The only problem was you didn’t have anything in dark blue.

On the way to the performance center you and Rhea discussed plans to go shopping that afternoon.

“Puerto Rico here we come! Two weeks!” Rhea threw her arms open as soon as you two were clear of the swinging doors. Grabbing your hand she spun you both and the woman was so strong you didn’t have much choice but to let her pull you. “You don’t seem as excited?”

You shrug as you unlocked the car door and she started plugging the mall you’d decided on earlier into the gps.

“It’s just…why me? Don’t get me wrong.” You checked the mirrors and proceeded to start backing out of the space. “I’m thrilled girl but I wasn’t expecting a call up! I’m nervous.”

It had come as a shock when you’re name was read off for the impromptu short tour on the island. Not that you were complaining but now you had more shopping to do. It wasn’t your favorite activity but having Rhea along made it fun.

Thinking about what Damian may like to see you wearing did too. He was from Puerto Rico and this short stop was essentially a celebratory lap for the champ. Which made it all the more interesting you were chosen to go.

“Don’t be, you’d wipe the floor with half the girls and *will* have incredible matches with the rest of us.” She smirked at you while fiddling with the radio. “I’m more worried about finding you something for your *date.*”

You swatted at her for waggling her eyebrows and she laughed.

“It’s not a date!”

“How many times has a man told you to dress up just for an apology? Hmm?”

She had a point. You weren’t fresh out of high school or new to dating but that didn’t mean you’d been generous with your time when it came to the opposite sex. Your dreams had always come first, something that had been an issue in the past. Someone like Damian though…he might be rough around the edges but he would understand your drive and passion unlike your previous relationships. But was that what *he* wanted? There were his reputation and sudden mood swings to consider.

Begrudgingly you agreed with her. “Point taken. You’ve been his friend way longer, what’s he after?”

Rhea hopped out of the car as you slipped it into park, waiting to answer until you were trekking the parking lot. “Really? I don’t know. Normally I don’t hear much about his escapades but…”

“But what?”

“Well, he doesn’t miss your matches and he’s mentioned you a few times.” She took a deep breath and tried to mimic the Puerto Rican’s deep rumble of a voice. “Y/N is just so talented Rhea, and you see how she pulls the crowd in? Hear how they’re screaming for her?”

The dramatics made you laugh as your conversation continued, shifting into discussions of what cut dress and what color shoes would complement the dark blue he’d requested. Your phone buzzed as you two headed for dinner.

DP: *Find something?*

Your heart did a flip but you kept it cool as you responded.

Y/N: *Maybe.*

DP: *Pictures?*

Y/N: *Nope.*

Just because you were into him didn’t mean you were going to roll over at every demand.

DP: *Not even a teaser?*

Y/N: *Patience is a virtue.*

He didn’t know it yet but you were more than worth the wait.

——

**Damian POV**

Tossing my freshly dry cleaned suit on the bed I checked my phone again, glad I was alone so I didn’t have to hear Rhea of Finn teasing me about it. Still no text from Y/N. I wasn’t used to being in this position, pining over a woman.

There were still several hours before I even needed to be at the arena for my dark match with Jey and I had already knocked out my workout for the day so I allowed myself to flop back onto the bed, mindful of the plastic as I pulled up YouTube. Without thinking I searched up one of Y/N’s latest matches.

I loved to watch her move, the way her hair swung as she walked confidently down the ramp, how her costumes hugged her curves just right…what the hell. Leaning back into the pillows I unbuttoned my jeans while allowing my thoughts to stray, remembering how it had felt to have her back pressed to my front, how I’d had to be careful not to embarrass myself by feeling her up.

Closing my eyes I imagined taking that costume off, my mind filling in the blanks as I pictured her most intimate spots. I wondered where she’d like to be touched and kissed, where was sensitive and where would drive her wild.

Slowly I started to work my hard-on as I imagine capturing her full lips, pulling her in while digging my fingers into her hips. My goddess moaned softly, her own dark hands creating a beautiful contrast against my tan skin as I pictured her running her hands over my torso while lowering onto me.

“Fuck…Y/N…that’s it baby.” Speeding up my motions I pictured her doing so as well, her large breasts moving hypnotically as she rolled her hips. It didn’t take long and I was nearing my release, my balls tightening and hips twitching along with Y/N’s imaginary sighs and whimpers.

In my vision she leaned over me to drop a kiss on my lips before leaning back and crying out my name in ecstasy. I came to the thought, a powerful orgasm ripping through me as I groaned and bucked while saying her name like a mantra. I looked down at myself as my brain slowly came back to reality. “Shit.”

I’ve got it bad. Worse than it’s been in a long time. Swinging my long legs back over the side of the bed I grabbed a gym towel and wiped my abs clean before heading to the shower.

God help her when I *did* get my hands on those thighs, that ass. I’d make her scream for mercy.

The rest of the day went as usual, even if I got more perturbed the longer I went without hearing from her. Old anxieties and insecurities twisted in my gut. What if she’d changed her mind? The signals were there but she was so collected.

The truth was I had become used to women chasing me not the other way around. It felt good.

Hold up. I paused as I hung the suit. Since I’d asked her I’d been thinking of it as a date, as step towards something.

It meant giving her the power to hurt me, something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. The nameless women I’d spent many nights with couldn’t cause the same kind of pain my ex had if I didn’t care.

I could see myself caring about Y/N very much. Probably already too much.

It’s fine. We’re adults right? Maybe have some fun, maybe not, either way I’ll be over it soon.

At least that’s what I told myself through my match. I still hadn’t seen or heard from Y/N and was really starting to wonder if she was going to show.

Jey smacking my arm once we were back in gorilla got my attention.

“S’up with you dawg? You were distracted out there and that ain’t like you.”

“Ah, it’s nothing man…”

He crossed his arms. “Don’t sound like nothin.”

Asshole has become way more attentive and sensitive since he got together with his wife Rori. It was her fault. More than I was annoyed by him actually caring, I was surprised I actually wanted to sit down and talk to him about it.

I shouldn’t need to talk about Y/N and it’s not like I had the time right now anyway but I also knew Jey wouldn’t give it up without being placated somehow.

“I gotta get somewhere right now but I’ll -“

Finally my phone rang and the bearded man before me raised an eyebrow. “Is that your somewhere calling?”

Throwing him a glare I snapped at him as I answered her call. “Tell you later cabron.”

“Excuse me?” The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t thrilled.

“Sorry, not you Y/N. Jey…it doesn’t matter. Where are you?”

Her laughter made my shoulders slump in relief. “Getting ready, just realized you never sent me any details about where to meet you.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling like an idiot. I’d been so determined not to seem overly interested I’d skipped on basic manners. “Ah, I uh-Just meet me at the docks in thirty minutes and we can take my rental.”

With a giggle she disconnected and I took off for the showers for a second time today, shooting the middle finger at the Samoan laughing at me as I did so.

Exactly thirty minutes later found me jogging towards the dock as I pulled my own braids into a tie while trying not to lose my wire rimmed glasses down my nose. Coming to a halt I looked around for a second before Y//N stepped out from a different hall door a few years away.

The remaining air left my lungs in a rush. The knee length navy blue dress was a cold shoulder with long sleeves, covered with glimmering material that made her look like she’d wrapped her body in a starlit night sky. Shining silver heels made her legs appear even longer and her locs, some a complementary blue to her dress, were styled to the side in an elegant sweep, leaving half her neck exposed and showing on the perfectly simple diamond studs her ears. My heart thundered and my mouth watered.

“Damian? You look…” She gave a shy sweep with her hand, indicating my own black suit that had intricate navy blue patterns sewn into the jacket and a very blue undershirt. “Incredible.”

Taking her hand I smiled. “Sere de mí de estarán celosos.” (It’s me they’ll be jealous of.)

Letting me open the door she smiled and shook her head so I clarified. “I am trying to find the right words in English, ‘gorgeous’ isn’t enough.”

Ducking her head she looked so beautiful with that shy smile and glowing cheeks. Knowing she had the heart and drive to match her looks only made her that much more alluring.

We made small talk on the way to the restaurant I’d chosen, discussing the upcoming tour and our friends. Pulling into the parking lot I handed over the keys to the valet as I helped Y/N out of the car.

A few years ago the stares would have made me uncomfortable but tonight I was as too enamored with my company to care. It was undeniable we made an incredible pair. After the wine and food were ordered our conversation deepened, turning to things like faith and childhood. It turns out we were more compatible than I’d imagined as our laughter wound through the air and time stretched on. Hours slid by but it felt like it had only been minutes when Y/N finished a glass of wine and bit her lip, working up the courage for something.

“Damian, I’m having a really good time.”

So was I so I nodded for her to continue.

“But…isn’t this a bit much for an apology? I’m not complaining!” She held up perfectly manicured hands. “I just…I don’t know, I like you but I don’t want to read more into this than there is, ya know?”

I turned my drink glass over in my hand, the glass so fragile I had to be careful not to grip too tightly, too intensely or I’d break it. It felt like a good metaphor for the power my words had in the moment. The power I’d possibly be giving her. I

“I’m sorry, that was rude…I’ve had more wine than usual.” I realized I was taking too long to respond.

“No, it’s fair.” I sighed. “I’d like to spend more time with you.” The rest seemed to catch in my throat and I couldn’t force it out.

As if she understood she nodded and smiled gently. “I’d like that too. Friends?”

I didn’t fully grasp how she seemed to know what the right thing to say was but I appreciated it all the same.

“For now.”

Our trip back to the hotel was spent mostly in a content silence. Giving in I reached for her hand, enjoying the strength I found in it as she curled her fingers around mine. Excepting when we exited the car I didn’t let go, even when we stood in front of her door.

I’d told myself I wouldn’t push it anymore tonight. That I’d said and done enough.

But standing there with her in the soft yellow light of the hotel hallway I felt the spell she had me under deepen. Before I could talk myself out of it I pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as she gasped, hands planting on my shoulders to steady herself. Not giving her a chance to pull away pressed my lips to hers.

Warmth spread through me, a better feeling than any shot of liquor. Her body melded to mine, soft and sweet as she responded, letting me in with a soft moan. Pressing her into the wall I let my hands wander down her side as our tongues got to know each other. It wasn’t until my hand made it to her bottom and gave a squeeze that she offered resistance, pulling away as her hand grabbed my wrist.

“Woah there big guy.” Stepping to the side she collected herself better than I could and moved into her room. Throwing a smile over her shoulder she waved before letting the door fall shut behind her. “Good night Damian.”

I stood there smiling like a fool for a few minutes before collecting myself.

“Good night Y/N.”

[blacclotusss]

Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape

Starting off strong, I want to discuss the argument between Louis and Armand. This, in my opinion, is where everything fell apart. It's just them going back and forth hitting each other in the jugular and it made me want to rip my hair out just hearing it. I, personally, have always hated when things like that get thrown up in arguments so that's my own personal bias. Just hearing Louis throw back the CSA in Armand's face and Armand throwing Paul's suicide, Grace leaving him, and his history with Lestat back up brought me to tears almost. It really sucks that these two felt that they had to resort to these things, but that's the tragedy of it all.

But, for some reason, I think Armand was more hurt that Louis called him dull and boring. My belief is that it hit harder because being boring and dull to Louis means he goes out to look for more exciting things and people, leaving Armand home all night. He doesn't want to lose Louis and the first ounce of real love that he's experienced, so he was taken aback by that. Louis walking out into the sun wasn't much of a surprise to me, but I think him doing it at that moment was. I would have expected a suicide attempt back in Paris, or even in Dubai, but not in San Francisco. I do understand now that the story has unfolded. 

I think Louis has just had enough of it all, talking about it with Daniel who kind of brushed it off in his intoxicated state and his argument with Armand only fuels that. He wants to be with Claudia, she's the one that he says is calling him, and if dying is how he's going to get to meet her again, then so be it. Now, the whole situation with Armand leaving Louis on that bed to suffer while he begs for relief definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Louis no longer has Claudia to nurse him back to health, as she did when he was dropped, so he has no choice but to rely on Armand and that sucks. Armand is in here torturing Daniel while he leaves Louis to holler and yell for him, that's so messed up. Even going as far as to contact Lestat and relay messages from him to Louis, and omitting some things. The psychological abuse at play here is crazy to think about.

I also want to talk about the power balance that has been discussed as well. Yes, Louis is able to express himself a bit more and in a different way in his relationship with Armand. They have an understanding of each other and what the other needs and their roles and positions switch based on what one needs at that moment. The whole Arun/Maitre thing is really working in Armand's favor more, in my personal opinion. He knows just how to push enough to get Louis to fall in line with that. You can see that towards the end when Armand calls Louis maitre after all he said. He's all of a sudden asking Louis to lead after everything that has happened, after Louis had to beg, and Louis will happily oblige in order to keep the peace between them. I wonder in what other instances has this happened before. We see Louis trying to keep Armand from falling off of the deep end while he, himself, is the one sitting in the coffin burned and charred begging for blood. So curious as to how this will all unfold in the coming episodes, I know Dubai will be a madhouse just as much as Paris. 

Aside from the analysis of relationships and arguments, this episode was amazing. The styling choices in both the filming and wardrobe were superb. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was Jacob and Assad's first episode they shot. It had to be funny to go from this to all the sweet lovey dovey stuff in the earlier episodes. I want to hear them talk about this more. Also, the SFX makeup was amazing! Much love to everyone involved with that! And it was nice to finally see Luke! He played that part so well. This and episode two are my absolute favorites so far. I wonder what's to come next in Dubai... 

[rott1ngbra1n]

First off! I wanna go ahead and drop some fun art stuff I’ve been doing as I’ve been watching Dragons Rising season 2, which I’ve been loving!

I did a version of Arin before but it wasn’t my favorite so a redo! More AlleyCat stuff and obligatory Cole, because I love him.

I do have more Ninjago Art I want to do (Still need to finish that Cole and Morro friend piece-) and I have some other fandom art I also want to do, but I’ll explain more under the cut as well as why I’ve been gone or a bit less active everywhere. This is optional you do not have to read under the cut!

TW// Transphobia

For those unaware I am a trans man, I go by a different name: both online and IRL (online for privacy’s sake), I also work as a barista due to being a college student and needing to save money for moving away from my own transphobic parents. That’s a whole other story. But at work there was a coworker of mine who was consistently transphobic towards me whenever we worked together. It had been going on since June of last year (The irony of it starting during pride month made me and my friends laugh) but it escalated after I returned from New York, so much so I had to go to management.

Myself. Management had been informed by my best friend (who also works with me) about it and was told it was “gossip”. Ok. Sure- So I informed management of the new incidents and was told I had options, the first being to have a meeting with me, the transphobe, and my manager to discuss the issues. I said no so my manager went to the DM to find another solution. To give even more context, the transphobe couldn’t even be transphobic to my face most times it was always told behind my back to my best friend.

That’s how I knew my manager talked to the transphobe one on one, cause the transphobe right after the meeting went to said best friend. Telling her “not to tell me as she didn’t want to start drama” Cool, I feel so cool. I was very mad, went back to my manager with it, had that meeting with myself, the transphobe, and manager. Where my emotions were downplayed and the transphobe said she had “never interacted with a trans person before and didn’t know what she said was wrong.” OK.

SURE.

After that we assumed it was over, my manager made an incident report, but it didn’t stop the transphobe still kept talking behind my back to others. Despite me talking respectfully of her. More context all the talking behind my back happened at work while on the clock. After a while I just went about my day, then Ethics and Compliance called. They spoke to everyone involved, including me and I relayed more about my testimony. They said they would be investigating and I assumed it would take a while, then finally. I was informed that the transphobe was in fact fired.

This whole situation, along with other personal stuff going on with me, caused so much stress. To the point I tended to fallback into habits I had thought I fixed, mainly regarding my physical health. Even at points hating myself for just existing and having been born wrong.

I’m thankfully doing so much better now and have recently gotten diagnosed with Autism, something I knew I had but didn’t fully understand for a while. I’ve been getting better existing in a world knowing the people that are my blood hate me, knowing that eventually, I will never be able to be loved by my parents or sister. I have friends and coworkers who support me and I want to support other people in this community.

With that said I’m back to making more art! I’m building a portfolio for animation and to intern next year, I also will be trying to post more animations to here when I finish them! I also will still be active in the Ninjago fandom, I’ve loved this show since it came out in 2011 y’all can pry it from my cold dead hands-

But I do want to make more original work, I want to do more Star Wars work, QSMP art and animations, and more Musical Theater art whether it be Broadway or Indie productions. I hope people enjoy what I make, especially some of my original characters as I’ve gotten to work on Cybernetic more thanks to my animation class. You’ll see more of it as we go!

Thank you if you’ve read this and thank you for supporting me!

[nightmareentertainment]

Finally had a discussion with a friend and I've landed on why I hated Hazbin Hotel (outside of the vivziepop situation) and after bingeing it hopping from dubious illegal website to even worse more illegal website, we've finally pinpointed it.

The fucking pacing is trash.

Okay so here's the pros of this series: The designs, art style, voice actors, concepts, themes, and motivations are cool as fuck. However. The pacing single handedly ruins at least half of the actual meat of the story- what were getting is kiddie-sized packages of episodes, stuff you'd see in kids shows where there's a problem that ultimately gets resolved in the next 20 minutes. It's, frankly- bad. It's bad.

Sir Pentious could have easily had an arc in which he exists as a spy, relaying (perhaps useless, considering the silliness of his character) information and team-rocket style fails to mess things up for the hotel. The arc could have included him slowly enjoying the place, fitting in, trusting others, and ultimately doubting the plot and having a gross, emotional moment when he's found out because he doesn't want to leave- that would've made Charlie' acceptance so much more impactful to the story. It would've made Sir Pentious a more interesting, full character rather than an extra who joined the gang.

Charlie and her dad could've been a series-drawn arc in which she tries to contact her father and fails repeatedly with the idea from the original episode of meeting Adam, trying to get to the higher-ups to get a REAL meeting, only for him to show up and talk down at her idea, we needed a BUILD UP for this episode. It feels flat and unpersonal.

Vaggie being an angel. Oh my god. I need to sit down. I cannot stress how forced this felt. No blatant hints? No cliff-hanger from a previous episode implying this? Idk, perhaps from the fucking FIRST EPISODE? would've been a REALLY COOL REVEAL if we had MORE of a BUILD UP.

The pacing, man. The pacing is getting me. It's getting my ass. It's bad. It had a lot of potential. Give me the pen. Let me- listen man. It just needs a little bit of writing. I got them. Let me handle it. PleasePleasePLEASE I could do it better.

Disclaimer: I have considered that the pacing may be due to budgeting or how to push the production out but I still think the show is objectively bad pacing-wise and genuinely I do not actually care enough on why it's so poorly managed. It had some interesting characters and plot lines that result could've gone somewhere. The music in alot of it is REALLY good. I enjoy the concepts for the characters. Pacing is bad. There's no room for theorizing and cliffhangers and baited breath it's just fast and quick and over its a massive let down bye its time for me to go to bed

[milksockets]

i recently had a very heartwarming exchange… about a typo.

to start at the beginning, at some point during my first couple of weeks at this job, i stopped by my supervisor’s office to mention that i’m very good at spotting typos if that’s something that would ever come in handy. i was referring both to the blizzard of daily emails as well as the information system program we use for documentation. he laughed and said he appreciated it, but also that a lot of people - including himself - are writing emails and whatnot all day and don’t necessarily have the time or ability to catch such errors. i remember thinking “yeah, that’s something i hadn’t really considered” and went on my merry way. note: his office door was open during the exchange because the discussion was not super private or confidential so why the fuck wouldn’t it be.

so the next day, i am summoned into his office, with the door closed this time. turns out some lurking busybody cunt with nothing better to do was hovering around and overheard the conversation, and decided to report it to both him and the supervisor above him that it was inappropriate and “who is this nurse who just started here talking about typos.”

i was flabbergasted at the time, but since then, it’s become apparent just how many things of that nature happen in offices (or mine at least; i’ve never worked in one before). when it comes specifically to pointing out a panoply of constant typos, i am not doing so in a manner that translates to “you’re a fucking idiot and i want to make you feel bad about it.” i guess i foolishly thought people might be open to hearing about ways they could improve their writing to avoid miscommunication.

there have been other instances of this ilk, namely that this woman moved into the office with a door next to me (the rest is an open plan type deal) and never has her door closed, whether she’s screaming into her phone, having an irl meeting, or blasting a podcast. like go figure, that’s sort of distracting and wearing headphones is not a solution because then i can’t hear if someone is trying to get my attention (or sneaking up behind me while i’m online shopping). it soon became very apparent that simply asking this lady to close her fucking door because other people do work here - but in nicer words - had the potential to cause a dramatic upheaval in office politics. i also had said that i would hope anyone in the office with a similar issue with me or my team would feel comfortable simply bringing it up for resolution.

it’s insane to me that these instances of direct communication about practical matters affecting other people are almost taboo and that i’ve been considered “inappropriate” on several occasions for relaying such remarks. also don’t say you value feedback if you actually don’t. let’s not play pretend here.

anyway, yesterday i passed a piece of street art that said “fight facism” and the artist tagged their IG handle so i just messaged them to say i thought they might like to know it’s misspelled. they were so fucking grateful, and said they’re glad someone pointed it out so nicely so they can fix it for the next batch. truly the antidote to the fragile, wretched office bullshit and evidence that i am doing god’s work.

so the moral of this story is that i need to find a way to get paid for finding typos. i mean, i spot them in just about every published book i read, too. and, friends, there is a solution: me.

[figs-and-cigs]

This is going to be another rant of mine. I've been organizing my thoughts around this. There's a part of me that's just kind of frustrated and sad about things - that have very little to do with me lol.

I had a playdate with someone the other week. I wouldn't directly call him a partner as we don't have dates very often (it's been a couple years!) But I do consider him a good friend. While catching up and going over our polyamory "mis"adventures, he share that he felt his relationship with wife was going to dramatically change over the next year.

Of course I invited him to share more. His wife has been growing closer to her other relationship, hasn't been around as much, and he's sensing a dynamic change. I was pretty surprised, they've been a poly couple I'd looked up to. I was at their wedding just a few years ago. I was at their housewarming when they bought the house. I'd been to their other parties. I assumed one of the reasons he and I weren't seeing each other often was because his relationship, other life things, finances, his step daughter finishing highschool etc. was taking up a lot of energy - which is totally understandable and ok.

When I asked how he felt about the dynamic changing he said, "oh totally ok. That's how it goes in poly. Dynamics shift and change. I don't know what's going to happen..." He paused, "I am a little worried about what that will mean for the house, and mortgage, and finances... And..." another pause, "bills have kind of fallen on me anyway."

Meanwhile he had also shared I was the first "partner" he's had over at the house because his wife works from home and he doesn't want to interrupt that, and she'd gone on a month long trip with her other partner.

Truthfully, none of this is any of my business or concern. I could spend some time listening to him, comforting him, and just holding space. I do think there was a disconnect from the logic of polyamory relationship dynamics can fluidly change, and his actual feelings around a potential divorce coming. There's a lot more skin in the game when finances are intertwined vs. a change in frequency of schedule.

Meanwhile, another couple in our poly group IS going through a divorce. Again, another couple I looked up to for their poly experiences and relationships. They created the meet up group we're part of. Were active in most events, hosted play parties at their home and seemed pretty awesome. We somewhat watched as they had relationships come and go, but their marriage seemed stable. Until it wasn't.

In spending time with the wife, a dear friend, and holding space for her to share about things, I heard a lot of shocking things. One painful experience she relayed:

Months and months ago she was having a mental health crisis and had asked him to reschedule a date so he could take her to hospital and make sure there was adequate child care for their 3 year old. At first he agreed, called to cancel his date, but then came back with a changed mind. "No, I'm not going to cancel dates for you. That would be hierarchy and unethical."

She's shared this story with me (and my husband) a couple times, and always jumps in to add - "we aren't hierarchical! I would NEVER ask him to cancel a date for me if it wasn't an emergency. If one of his other girlfriends needed him to take her to the hospital I would tell him to go!" He then, not only left her for the date, but was gone for 4 days for dates with his two other girlfriends.

She also laments about having to be the primary caregiver for their child whenever he goes out. That in divorce discussion he's adamant about 50/50 custody, but expects her to arrange her schedule around his and be willing to have the kid whenever he needs (while not explicitly said, his schedule revolves around multiple relationships). That there will be no set schedule, he will not pay child support. He expects her to take on the majority of their shared debt, for her to either keep or sell the house (which if she sells he gets more than half since he put most of the labor into it).

Monogamy or no, divorces are messy. It's sad to be on the sidelines and hear how things are proceeding, especially for a couple that seemed to be so strong. She's facing potential homelessness, horrifying debt, and an unpredictable schedule regarding child care. Nevermind the chaotic situation her child will be in the middle of. Nevermind the emotional anguish she's is dealing with at losing someone she loved and trusted.

The thing I keep ruminating on is their adamant denial of hierarchy. No, it's not a hierarchy thing to cancel a date because one partner is in crisis. As someone who practiced hierarchy, I would hope my husband would rearrange his schedule to help ANY partner or friend in crisis.

But the wife? The one on your medical insurance? The mother of your child? Whom you share a home, and finances with? I don't think it's unfair or unethical to say that relationship *should* take priority.

The reality that she's become the default parent/caregiver because her husband has more partners, a more flexible work schedule - that she avoided asking him to date less because it would be "controlling" - is a part of "non-hierarchal poly" subscription language that baffles me.

I don't know if anyone read my previous rants about a relationship of mine that fell a part. There were a lot of things wrong with that relationship, but the end began when I said I couldn't do Saturday overnights anymore. That my husband's work schedule changed, which meant Saturday nights were for my husband BECAUSE that made the most sense for us to have a babysitter. That our primary relationship needs one child free night a week. (Mind you, my schedule during the week is flexible and she was seeing me 3+ times a week as it was.)

While she never directly said, "that's unethical relationship privilege", it was an unspoken undercurrent in her response. Which was maddening. Sorry, not sorry - my child's schedule, well being, and relationship of the caregivers will always come first. It wasn't a matter of taking Saturdays away from this girlfriend, but a matter of making sure my husband and I had a day to connect when our kiddo could go with the babysitter.

When I talk about hierarchy in my primary relationship, it's not at all to devalue my other relationships - like I hear so many poly people claim. It doesn't mean "my husband and I make the rules", it doesn't mean "he gets a say in what happens in my other relationships."

When I talk about hierarchy what I mean is, my finances, my home, the well being of my child, my schedule are all entirely tied to this person. That relationship takes priority because, God forbid, it ever falls a part. Those ties need to be strong to ensure our financial stability, that we have a home, that the child is taken care of healthy and happy. It doesn't make my relationship with others "less than" in regards to worth, love, value - it just makes them different in regards to need, responsibility, and time.

Another couple in our meet up group recently finalized their divorce. We hardly see them at the group and events anymore. They're struggling, their other relationships fell a part because there's no easy way to manage child care schedules, work schedules, finances.

Another couple with 4 kids, broke up - she attempted to make her other relationship a primary and he very much resented the newfound responsibility of shared time with kids, financial needs, and less time for other relationships. The first couple just moved back in together. While they still claim "non-hierarchal" I can't help my scratch my head.

While the one partner I mentioned, doesn't need childcare (their step- child is a recent highschool grad), his wife is off on a month long trip with her other partner. Don't tell me these other couples, with young children, would find that acceptable. Add in his concern about finances while his wife is spending their shared money on this trip... Whether that's acceptable or not is between them. Obviously, in all of this, communication is key. Whatever they agree on is between them, but if one agrees out of fear and wanting to avoid "hierarchy" - is it really ethical or reasonable?

I'm not saying hierarchy is a solution to these problems. Divorce happens, relationships fall a part. But the unspoken resentment that their needs in regard to finances, child-care, and even the relationship as a whole, seems pretty loud and apparent to me. That undercurrent of "I don't want to be unethical so I don't ask to be priority" while worrying about their homes, children, and financial stability - is just... Sad.

Before opening our relationship, my husband and I very clearly defined the importance of our relationship. It needs to be healthy, it needs attention and time, and it needs to function for the well being of our kiddo, home, and finances.

My other relationships also needs those things. All of my relationships need to be healthy, and varying levels of time and attention - but ONLY for the well-being of the relationship. If those relationships fall apart they aren't going to risk leaving me homeless, in debt, or put my kiddo in a chaotic situation. While those relationships ending sucks, emotionally, they won't ruin so many important aspects of my life.

So I'm not ashamed to say I practice hierarchy. I won't deny the importance of my primary relationship to protect others feelings. I won't risk my marriage for another relationship, and anyone who enters a relationship with me knows that. There aren't any rules preventing those relationships from evolving emotionally in whatever way they do. But it's unlikely I'm going to go on a month long trip, spend beyond my budget, or ditch my family in a crisis for you.

In some ways I question if some of these partners use poly as a trap door for their relationships. One they can use to slip in and out of when the relationship gets hard. I'm not opposed to the occasional escapism, but not at the expense of children and someone's financial stability - heck even their emotional well-being to an extent.

Ok I've ranted long enough I think. Thanks for reading if you did.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: abduction/kidnapping references, death references

AO3 link

Chapter 41 - Nina

The arrest warrant for Jeluna Kir-Mai went out only a few days after Nina had found her wandering down the canal, and was more than generous in their offer of reward for turning her in - either to the stadwatch, or to Kaatje De Waal. Nina had only discovered it when she heard the rumours flying through the White Rose; the printed information of a client paying to take Jeluna from the Willow Switch for two weeks and her breaking free to run had quickly become tales of her as a madwoman, as a fool, as a violent killer, and sometimes as a hero. 

“It’s how it always goes,” said Petra, after relaying one such story to Nina with obvious scepticism when she came to clear her tea tray, “Going on my seventh year here and I’ll tell you the rumours are always the same. Still, never had this many disappearing, or whatever it is, so close as these lot. Not one to trust rumours, but there’s something suspicious in that if you ask me,”

“You think they’re linked?” asked Nina, trying to keep her tone as light and casual as she could as she gratefully took one of the cakes that Petra had brought up for her. 

“Well first off I thought the Leopard had maybe tried to run or something, but now… I’d be more shocked if they weren’t connected, to be honest,” Petra shrugged, “But what do I know?”

It was only a day later, or a little over as the world around them sunk into night, as Nina walked down West Stave to cross into East and head towards the Slat, and already the Barrel was enjoying some new token of gossip. It felt like a great creature that chewed constantly on little pieces and edges of snacks but neve truly ate its full and so on it went in this same way; forever eating, forever hungry. Jeluna’s name still whistled on the wind and slipped from breath to breath in crooked whispers, but so did another - one Nina didn’t know by name itself but only title. The Zemeni Trade Ambassador had been murdered this morning. 

Nina hadn’t heard the details and she didn’t much have time to listen out for them now; Kaz had sent for her to discuss Jeluna’s contract and her own, and she wanted to speak to Inej about how Jeluna had fared overnight. She also wanted to keep half an eye on Inej, because she knew this was going to be a difficult week. 

“I turn sixteen next month,” Inej had murmured, lying on her bed at the Slat with her leg suspended in the sling that Jesper had rigged up for her. 

Nina stared at her. 

“Pardon?”

“My birthday,” she said softly, “It’s next month. I’ll be sixteen,”

Nina supposed she must have known that, theoretically, since she herself was recently seventeen and Inej had willingly referred to them as a year apart from each other. But as far as she knew that was not another soul in Ketterdam who knew the actual date of Inej’s birthday, and Nina had by no means been intending to ask. She didn’t know why Inej had chosen to tell her, nor why it had come from her so freely or so suddenly and then vanished again as though it had floated away in the wind, but she would keep it to herself and say nothing that Inej didn’t want her to. She would keep as much attention as she could spare focused on her though, unsure of whether Inej would want to be in company, or if she would rather be alone, or if she intended to let the day pass her by as any other without a mention. 

The Slat came into view ahead and Nina slipped inside to see Jesper, and finding herself slightly surprised that Wylan was there sitting next to him. As far as she knew, Wylan had been avoiding the Slat and the Crow Club as much as she herself did - not that it felt like she’d been doing a good job of that recently. Even just within the week another one of his scars had begun to peek through the Tailoring she’d done for him what felt like so many more weeks ago than she supposed it really was; the one that ran down the side of his nose, thin and jagged as the rest. She had wondered many times what kind of accident had left him with such wounds, and had considered too many unsatisfactory theories. He was leaning forwards on the table with his chin resting on his hand, face turned towards Jesper’s as they spoke together. Neither of them seemed to have noticed her arrival, and she slipped straight past them to find Kaz and Inej. but as she began to walk Jesper looked up and said:

“Oh, Nina’ll know - Nina!” he beckoned her to their table and she turned. 

“Don’t-” Wylan began, but Jesper either didn’t notice or completely ignored him. 

“Wylan’s fainted a few times recently,” he said, “Do you think-?”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” hissed Wylan, his cheeks heating. 

Jesper glanced at him for a moment and then laid off, but let his gaze linger on Nina for a moment with a question in his eyes. Nina shrugged, then nodded to the door to suggest they might discuss the matter alone later if necessary. A moment lingered in the air, Jesper drumming his fingers on the table the only sound, and Nina found her eyes wandering again to Wylan’s scars. After a moment, she dared to venture: 

“Would you - I mean, I could Tailor your scars again for you, if you’d like,”

Wylan’s cheeks glowed again. 

“They’re visible?”

“Just a couple. Obviously if you don’t want me to I won’t but if you do-”

“Can you undo it?” he asked, suddenly, like he’d ripped the words straight out of himself.

Nina frowned. 

“You mean…”

“No, sorry,” his already reddened cheeks flushed further, “I know you can’t do that. I just meant the Tailoring. Can you undo it? So they’re… they’re all there, again?”

Nina had to admit she was a little surprised, but she nodded all the same. 

“Of course. I need to speak to Kaz and Inej now but-”

“About what?”

Nina just about jumped right out of her skin as Inej appeared at her shoulder, a slight smile curving her lips.

“Saints,” Nina breathed, shaking her head and sticking her tongue out at Jesper for laughing, “Was that really necessary?”

“Always,” Inej nodded wisely, “Kaz is upstairs,”

She looked almost completely herself, though Nina could tell that she was still in pain, with her braid coiled at the nape of her neck and her knives stowed in their habitual homes. Her fingers danced across the handle of one on her belt. 

“I wanted to ask you-” Nina glanced back at Wylan, “-how things went last night,”

“With some difficulty,” Inej admitted, “But she seems calm today; Elodie’s with her, she’ll stay a while I think. I only…”

But apparently no-one around here was destined to finish their sentences today, because Inej’s words died on her lips as the rhythmic thud of Kaz’s cane began to echo its way through the room as he came down the stairs and crossed the floor towards them, her gaze drifting straight to him through the crowd. Kaz looked as he ever did; unreadable, distant, immaculately dressed in a perfectly pressed dark suit, all sharp lines and neatly tailored edges. But there was a glimmering edge to his dark eyes that put a touch of unease into Nina’s previous comfort. What was he planning?

He acknowledged them all with a nod as he approached, murmured something to Inej, then placed a stack of kruge on the table in front of Wylan. A moment passed as Wylan reached out and ran his fingers over the edge of the notes, before he split the pile into two and held the larger one out to Kaz. 

“You overpaid,”

“That’s your increase,” Kaz’s voice was crisp but rough, like someone had clipped the edges of its fabric with blunt shears, “If you agree to the deal, for keeping trade exclusive to us. It’ll be more if you join the Dregs,”

Wylan now skipped blushing altogether and if anything seemed to blanch slightly, but he nodded as he tucked the notes into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“We’ll talk later; come to the Crow Club for around ten bells,”

He turned as if to leave, and so before he could Nina added: 

“Oh - Kaz. I found a Fabrikator,”

He looked back at her for a moment, raising a quizzical eyebrow before Nina lightly tapped her neck to get across the point of Jeluna’s golden choker. 

“It’s already dealt with,” he said, “But we do need to discuss the financials. I’ll have some work to do after Wylan’s left, come for twelve bells if you can,”

“I have a client until 2,”

“Two bells half chime then,” Kaz sighed, “Or whenever you arrive. Are there any other questions to entertain the four of you or can I be on my way?”

Nina was about to shake her head as the others were, but she found herself continuing on to say:

“Who did you use?”

Kaz frowned. 

“Why is that of any concern?”

“Well, most of the Grisha in Ketterdam know of each other,” said Nina, vaguely aware that as she said it Wylan looked quickly up, “But it took me days to find a Durast who’d be able to come,”

Kaz watched her for a moment and Nina had the strangest sense that she was being interrogated, when it had been her who asked the question. 

“They requested to remain anonymous,” he said, adjusting his cane that he could straighten out his shirt cuffs, “Now if you would be good enough to excuse me, I’ll be on my way,”

And so indeed he went, leaving Nina feeling that she had made a rather pointless journey. 

[blossom-adventures]

TES Summer Fest 2023, Day 1: Arcane

What’s this?! I actually shifted into gear and wrote something this morning, and have already started working on the next 2 days worth of prompts?! @tes-summer-fest

My prompts will be based around my Skyrim fics, either my Dragonborn story (Far Horizons & Ancient Stones) or my Dawnguard story (The Blood Prophecy) I’ll colour the above title accordingly ☺️

It was rare that Ulfric needed to see his Court Mage to ask the man for advice, but after receiving a rather concerning letter from one of his contacts within Solitude, he felt like he needed to.

As he approached the workshop and study belonging to his Court Mage he over heard voices

“Did you continue with your studies after you left Windhelm?” Wuunferth asked, Ulfric took a step closer to see if he could hear who his Mage was talking to

“Not at the College, no, but I haven’t stopped using magic all together” Ulfric hissed out a curse as he heard the Dragonborn’s voice, he didn’t want to discuss his letter while she was there, so he went to leave

“Jarl Ulfric?” Wuunferths voice called out, the Jarl sighed, before returning to the door way of Wuunferths study, “you must know by now, lad, that you can’t sneak up on me” Ulfric tried to hide the smirk on his face, even now he was 4 years shy of 50, Wuunferth always called him ‘lad’ or ‘boy’ “what can I do for you, Jarl Ulfric?”

“I’m sure it can wait, I didn’t realise you had a visitor,” Ulfric went to leave

“You clearly came for a reason, so stay and ask your questions, Jaina is a former apprentice of mine, you have my word that she can be trusted” Ulfric’s sapphire blue eyes darted over to the Dragonborn for a moment, meeting her dark red ones, before he handed over the letter

“I need your advice, Wuunferth” the old mage read through the letter

“‘Rumours of strange magic in Solitude?’ Hmph… you think it’s the Thalmor?”

“I don’t know, I was hoping you’d be able to…”

“To confirm what is happening on the other side of the country by reading a letter?” Wuunferth raised his brow at Ulfric as he huffed and folded his arms

“I don’t know, do I? I am only familiar with 2 schools of magic; destruction and restoration,” then he hissed in no more than a whisper “and that wasn’t willingly” the Dragonborn cleared her throat, causing the 2 men to look at her

“Jarl Ulfric, I’m needing to travel to Solitude soon, on an unrelated matter, if you want, I can look into this for you, and report back when I return?” Ulfric looked at the Dragonborn, then to Wuunferth, who nodded his approval

“Very well,” the Jarl said, “when is it you’re travelling?”

“I’ll help liberate Falkreath, Kaidan and I leave in the morning, then I plan to head to Solitude when Falkreath flies Stormcloak colours”

“Alright. In the meantime, I’ll request my contact keeps an eye on this ‘strange magic’ he wrote about, if he sends anymore information to me, I’ll try and relay it to you” the Dragonborn nodded, Ulfric bid them farewell and left his Court Mage and the Dragonborn to their conversation.

[anchanted-one]

Legend of Lightning Chapter 49. The Wolf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/112494664

@swtorhub

The Next Day, Organa Castle

The Jedi were both led into the duke’s dining room for breakfast. If Vajra’s chambers were rich, the duke’s were opulent.

He tried not to stare around at all the decorations, and instead focused his attention on the others who had been called to attend the meeting. He was greeted by Duke Charle and General Gesselle Organa. Also invited was a young man of around twenty, and an older Iridonian Zabrak.

“Greetings, Master Jedi,” the young man said. “I hear I have you to thank for saving my family. I am Wynne Organa, and I was in charge of peace talks to end this conflict.”

“‘Was’?”

“I’m afraid peace negotiations fell through after Duke Horis Thul was murdered by his son, Septimius. He houses a bitter hatred for the world which exiled his whole House, and saw his little influence fading when… well, I’ll get to that. I really should allow the good doctor to speak first.”

“Forgive me,” Vajra bowed to the Zabrak.

“Think nothing of it, Son. My name is Parvux, and I was one of the lead scientists in charge of the Death Mark project. I worked closely with Master Orgus as he shut the project down.” He snorted. “I hated him at first. We all did. We were building a weapon which could kill Imperial collaborators like Kendoh and Septimius Thul, so that we wouldn’t need to sacrifice whole armies for their ambitions. But then he saved my life. You see, the dismantling was going smoothly at first, but one day, one of our most trusted security officers revealed herself as a spy. Alayna Hark timed it perfectly; everything had been placed into a speeder for transport when three minor Killik hives burst in. She used the chaos to her advantage, making off with not only the Death Mark controls, but also the targeting device. By the time Master Orgus finished off the last of the Killiks, she was long gone.”

“And she got to work almost at once,” Wynne picked up the thread. “She came to Count Alde—who was the project’s cofounder and most important patron—and gave him a sob story about a Sith Lord who slaughtered everyone. And, sad to say, the Count believed her. He gave her the full run of the Castle. She got close enough to mark nearly fifty people with the targeting device. Count Alde was the first to die, and dozens of high-ranking officers followed him to the grave.”

“Was that what happened?” Duke Charle looked appalled. “We thought… we thought… holy lord almighty…”

General Gesselle slammed her hand down on the table. “And when were you planning to tell us this? Charle and I met her too, you know! We literally have a 'hit me here!' sign painted on our bodies!”

“Their deaths crippled our war effort,” the duke stammered. “It was for that reason Bathor’s legions managed to walk all the way to our doors!”

“Don’t you get it, Charle?” Gesselle looked furious. “We were in danger too! This is the weapon that killed Blenks!”

“And I’m sorry about that,” the duke apologized, but his face turned red with anger for some reason. “I’m sorry you lost your closest friend, Gesselle. But it is my duty to think of my people’s safety before my own. Before your own. We can mourn Blenks later. And we can discuss this later,” he added. General Gesselle fumed, but went silent. “What I want to know, is why the killings stopped.”

It was Parvux who answered. “It was because Master Orgus destroyed the transmitters which allowed the device to relay targets to the laser. No one here knows what the frequency of that satellite is, and we can’t find the laser and change its antenna, since it’s cloaked. That is why her killings stopped.”

“But she didn’t get away with her deeds,” Wynne went on. “My spies saw her enter Duke Thul’s bunker. Master Orgus was close enough to intercept her. He snuck in through a ventilation shaft, and the duke was ready to believe him over her. He gave up Lord Nefarid’s location, and your Master decided to go there alone. We don’t know how he was defeated, but Nefarid captured him and sent Angral his prize. You know the rest.”

“What happened to Alayna Hark?”

“Duke Thul captured her, but Lord Nefarid freed her once he instigated Septimius to stage his coup. I do not know where she is now.”

“Do we have any leads at all?”

“None, I’m afraid. We briefly secured the facility where Master Orgus confronted Nefarid, but he had already moved. A gloating card was all we found.”

“We need to stop Nefarid before he figures out how to reconnect with his satellite,” Vajra looked around the table. “Var Suthra said it could take months, but they have a huge lead on us. I could use your help. Any at all.”

“We will offer any assistance we can, of course. We do have a stake in this after all.”

General Gesselle did not say anything, but Vajra noticed her eyes had gone red, and her lower lip trembled.

“Unfortunately, we’re backed into a corner here. If you can push back the Wolf’s Jaws—the forces led by the Wolf Baron—perhaps we can regain our footing enough to begin searching.”

“I’ll be glad to assist, of course.”

“Good. Now, let us set this grim talk aside for now. I’m sure you are all hungry. Barnobis? Please bring the food.”

“Very good, sir.”

*

Seven hours later

Vajra landed in the midst of the trio of war droids. He cut them down with a single sweep of his Lightsaber.

“How is it going T7?”

<Status report: Progress = 97%. Estimated time remaining = 12 minutes.>

Vajra tried not to display his impatience. “Keep it up.”

The Wolf Baron lived up to his name. He only had a fraction of the forces which Lord Bathor had, but he was using it to great effect. He had launched rapid raids at multiple objectives in a short time. Not pitched battles and sieges, nor any major offensives, just fighting back Organa garrisons long enough to accomplish objectives before retreating again.

One of their many missions had been sneaking up to ancient surface-to-air defences which Duke Charle had called ‘The Spears of Organa’ and reprogramming them. They now fired on all targets indiscriminately, requiring an urgent response. Vajra had been in favor of destroying the cannons, or at least their computers, but the duke had insisted on taking them back.

Which was why he now had the task of protecting T7 as the little droid reprogrammed the turrets. Which was a time-consuming mission because of their unfamiliar, millennia-old coding process. It had taken hours just to reprogram one!

He keyed his comm. “Kira?”

“I’m here, Boss. We’re about thirty minutes from completing our task.”

“We’re almost done here,” Vajra said. “Have you had any problems?”

“Just a couple of war droids every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Nothing too dangerous, yet forcing us to stay in one place? Just as I thought.”

“We’re being delayed. It’s just as we all thought.”

It wasn’t just Vajra who had smelled a rat, but also General Kashim. Only General Gesselle had supported the plan to liberate the Spears. Unlike the Jedi’s teams, most of the committed forces were platoons. A good thirty platoons—over 1000 soldiers—were sent out to just retake the defenses. And each recapture had taken hours. More troops had been sent out to liberate other positions, from villages and homesteads, to outposts and crossings.

The Organas had only about a third of their forces to respond to any new threats.

“Well, it’s too late now,” Vajra sighed. “Score one for the Wolf Barron. Three hours is long enough to raze half the coast. Not that he’ll do such a thing.”

<Reprogramming = complete!> T7 trilled. <Status = ready to depart!>

“Good. We’ll meet up with Kira then. Let’s get moving—”

They were interrupted by a frantic call. “Master Jedi!”

“Hello, General Gesselle. I imagine the wolf struck while your forces were occupied?”

The middle-aged woman averted her gaze. “He did. You were all right. He wanted our forces to be diverted. While they were, he took hundreds of our people hostage. He has offered us a civil meeting to discuss his terms.”

“So what’s our next step?”

“Charle is insistent on meeting him. With minimal guards, as demanded. It’s a trap, and he’s walking right into it.”

“In the worst-case scenario, who succeeds him as Duke?”

She flinched. “I do. Do you—does that make you suspicious of me? I overruled yours and Kashim’s advice, after all.”

He scanned her image through the Force, kicking himself for not doing so earlier. What he saw surprised him.

“You’re preg—?” he cut off his sentence, but her eyes snapped in his direction. A hunted expression came over her eyes. “No. I do not think you plotted against Duke Charle, or House Organa.”

The look on her face—he knew that expression. It was guilt. But his instincts told him that whatever her transgression, she had not aided the enemy.

“I made a mistake,” she said bitterly. “A few weeks ago, I would not have fallen for such an obvious trap, even without you and Kashim to clue me in. But that damned woman… Lady Rooks… meeting her unnerved me. Worse was when I lost Blenks. He was my closest friend for over a decade.”

“That doesn’t matter right now. We need to defeat the Wolf Baron.” Vajra sighed. “Does he have an actual name?”

“Baron Jharkus Thul. He may not be a Duke, but his has been the strongest claim to the Throne from the Thul’s side. Not because of blood, you understand. He is that good. A good commander, an honorable gentleman, a polite noble, and a skilled duelist.”

“I really should have asked before now,” Vajra lowered his head. “If I’d known… I guess we’re both of us not at our best right now.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Gesselle said reluctantly. “I admit, I do not feel impartial enough to make a decision here. And Kashim is out of reach at the moment.”

“Please don’t do this to me,” Vajra begged. “Var Suthra did it on Coruscant. I barely scraped through.”

“But you did. And now, your prowess is needed again. Paladin of House Organa, I humbly beseech you. Save my husband. And my House.”

“Send me Baron Jharkus’ history and profile,” he growled. “I need to know what kind of person I’m dealing with.”

“Stand by. I’m sending you the coordinates so you can start going.”

“Did you hear that, Kira?”

“I caught the gist. I’ll leave right now. I can set this turret to blow, and rendezvous close to the meeting place within forty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll be counting on you.”

*

Baron Jharkus Thul both loved and hated his moniker. ‘The Wolf Baron,’ a title capable of striking fear into the hearts of his enemies, and instilling fervor in allies. It spoke of his power.

But he hated it. Wolves were ferocious, rabid creatures. While they did understand the strength in unity, they did not comprehend nobility and courtesy. He was much more than just a warrior. He was someone truly worthy of being a king, more so than Bouris Ulgo.

A king could not be a king, if all he knew was war. Jharkus was adept in other areas too. Etiquette, diplomacy, economics, law, and even agriculture. Not enough to handle it all, all by himself, of course. But enough that no advisor could pull the wool over his eyes.

His bid for the throne was not purely out of personal ambition; he simply knew he could do a better job than any other monarch in the galaxy.

“Your Highness,” Captain Turcois bowed before him. “A speeder is approaching. It’s flying House Organa’s colors.”

“House Organa’s? Not the Duke’s?” he had expected as much. The Duke was fully expecting to lose his life here today. The man had courage, if nothing else. “Show him in when he gets here.”

Jharkus sat in his tent. His niece Elana sat close by. She looked at him expectantly. “What is to happen to our poor Duke?”

Jharkus sighed. Elana was a good girl, but she had grown too used to the others of their House. Lustful Kendoh and cowardly Horis. Most of their family thought more like a crime family than a Noble House. This was one reason why he had requested that she join him, once her mansion had been raided in retaliation for her actions.

He wanted her to treasure their House, as he did. To fight for it.

“Nothing too grisly, my dear Niece. We trade his freedom for that of the civilians.”

“But what will that accomplish?” she asked. “He will no doubt have assigned his successor just in case something happened to him.”

“True. But, to whom?”

“His wife. Gesselle Organa.”

“And therein lies the downfall I have envisaged for his House. You see, he seems to be the only Organa who doesn’t know a rather open secret.”

“Huh?”

“Gesselle Organa is pregnant… with her lover Blent’s child. With Charle out of the picture, his cousins and siblings will not want a woman like Gesselle on the throne. Bad enough she’s a commoner. But she’s an adulteress too, one who showed rank ingratitude by disrespecting the man who elevated her to nobility. Without Charle Organa to keep them in line, the House will fall apart.”

“A wise plot, dear Uncle. But what of the Jedi? The one who wiped out two legions by himself?”

“He will be drawn further from the politics as time goes on,” Jharkus assured her. “Remember; he’s not here for the Organas. He’s here for Darth Angral’s pet project. All we have to do, is survive the next few days. Long enough to return to friendly lines.”

The tent flaps were parted to allow his guests inside. Duke Charle followed his bodyguard, Heronus. He was dressed in robes that did the bare minimum of meeting the criterion ‘befitting his station’. He had nothing on him that might count as something to surrender, except for an old sword.

“Baron Jharkus.”

“Duke Charle,” Baron Thul smiled and bowed. “Thank you for calling me by my name, and not my epithet.”

“Of course. Today, I meet the man, not the wolf.”

“I am only ever the man, my good Duke. You do your ancestors proud, by adhering so admirably to their espoused virtues as well as you do.”

“As do you. House Thul lost their way for a while, but the old ways are strong in you. If only you served the Republic, instead of the Empire, I would have offered to back your claim to the throne.”

Jharkus beamed at that.

“And you are… Lady Elana Thul, am I correct?”

“That’s right, Duke Organa,” Elana curtseyed. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Word of your integrity had reached me when I was a babe in my crib.”

“At the end of the day, what people say of us can outlast our flesh by centuries. I do hope the things said about you are things you can be proud of. I predict you have a long career ahead of you.”

“What a nice thing to say,” Elana smiled. “Truly, I am glad to hear your encouragement.”

The duke bowed again. Jharkus knew the man’s reputation. He was as honest as he was cultured. There was no way he’d have spoken untrue words, even as idle pleasantry. Just what did he know about Elana? What did he know about his Family?

“Shall we begin our discussion?”

“Of course. I’m sure, that you want me in exchange for my people.”

“That is one of my demands. The other, is that you order your people to let us depart for House Thul’s lands. A ceasefire would be nice too, though perhaps that’s a bit much to ask for.”

“You hope that my absence would be enough for House Organa to fall apart.”

“General Gesselle is a worthy commander, but not a woman your House would rally behind.”

“For all your cunning, you do not understand House Organa. My family will do what is right, even if it’s hard.”

“Perhaps my move is earmarked for failure then,” Jharkus sighed. “I suppose it happens to those who gamble. Unfortunately, this is all I can manage right now. Your new Paladin destroyed most of the army allocated to defeating your Family.”

“How do you know that I made him a Paladin?”

“Oh, come now, Duke! You have eighteen thousand people in your city. Surely you can’t believe they’re all loyal to you?”

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“Why, that’s a topic for several books! And I’m sure there’s much you know, that I don’t! Something we can both discuss, later. Once your escort is safely returned to your gates. You may keep your servants, if they choose to stay. They will look after you in your captivity.”

“There is no need. They have been ordered to return to Castle Organa. They will continue to serve my House, and the war effort. I trust your reputation, Jharkus. You will not mistreat your prisoners. Even if you don’t… I deserve this. To have allowed you to take so many of my people hostage… what a blunder that was.”

“Yes. To be honest, I didn’t expect that to go as well as it did. Didn’t Gesselle oppose you… oh, of course. She is grieving for her closest friend. Anyone can make a mistake in that state.” He tsked. “Let’s set that aside for now. Let’s prepare our message to your Family.”

The tent flaps parted, and Lord Gustab entered. Not only was the Sith young, he was one of the lowest ranking Sith in the Alderaan system, so he didn’t have that air of arrogance yet. “Pardon the intrusion, My Lords. There’s an urgent call coming in from Darth Angral.”

“Angral? What does he want—”

“That’s Lord Angral to you, Baron,” a voice barked over his holo. The frightening visage of the Butcher of Coruscant appeared in the air above it. “And I have a very simple directive for you. Someone of your reputation should be able to understand this. I want that Jedi, the one who broke the final siege of the Organas.”

“I’m afraid I can’t comply with that request, my Lord. He is beyond us. Only a fellow Sith should be able to capture him for you—”

“Gustab told me you have hostages. Use them. Demand the boy’s surrender, and he will fall over himself to save those pitiful lives.”

“But my Lord, I have already concluded negotiations to release them—”

“Baron Thul. You seem to be under the impression that I was giving you a choice. Capture the four-armed freak, and put him on the shuttle that will arrive at Thul Palace tomorrow. If you comply, I will send you some reinforcements for your war. Fail me, and you will die a painful death.” His eyes travelled to Elana, whom Duke Charle reflexively tried to shield from view. “Gustab. Take the girl.” All eyes jumped to Elana, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “If the Baron does not succeed, he will live knowing that his kinswoman will be my plaything.”

Gustab drew his Lightsaber and advanced on Elana, who started screaming. “Please! Don’t do this! I—I’m an ally of the Empire! Call Akahte, or Darth Zash! They can vouch for me—”

“Zash may be a Darth… but she isn’t even in the middle of the food chain. I, on the other hand, rank near the very top. I am a mere step beneath the Dark Council.”

“Darth Malgus,” Duke Charle spoke up in a strong, voice, but pleading. “I am Duke Charle. I was just taken prisoner by Baron Thul. The Baron is an honorable man, who does not like seeing his prisoners treated badly. Take me, instead. It will be just as painful for him, and a blow on his prestige.”

Jharkis wanted to kiss the man. He knew he might be consigned to a painful death, but he hadn’t hesitated. He had stepped up, to save Elana. By all rights, his enemy.

Gustab looked at Angral, clearly favouring this idea as well. But Angral scoffed after a long moment. “Gustab… kill the duke for speaking out of turn. Then take the girl hostage. Bring me his head, too. A neat little trophy it will make.”

Gustab hesitated no further. He moved to stab the duke. Jharkis drew his blaster and fired on Gustab—thanking his stars that he had a habit of leaving it on stun. But Gustab’s lover entered the fray. Eklarie was a low-level Sith, just like Gustab, but much less friendly. She cut the blaster out of the Baron’s hand, but Jharkus was already moving. He drew his rapier and dashed in front of Organa, ready to protect his prisoner to the death— “HRRK!”

Only to find himself lifted several feet into the air by the invisible hand on his throat. Angral smiled at him mockingly as Gustab slew Organa and took his head, after which both he and Eklarie took a screaming Elana out of the tent. Gustab looked at the baron apologetically, but there was no coming back from this. I will kill you, if I can. Slowly!

Angral dropped the baron to the ground, laughing. “What an amusing little show you put on for me! I have a reward for you.”

A reward?

“Two further terms for the girl’s safe release. Put the good Duke’s body on a spike and display it for all the Organa to see. In addition, once the Jedi is safely in your grasp, you will slaughter your hostages in front of him. Record his screams for me. I want to hear him tearfully shout ‘But you promised!’” The cruel Sith slapped his belly, nearly falling over himself laughing as his holo vanished.

Jharkus dropped to his knees and sobbed like a child. He wept for Elana, that sweet but pragmatic girl. He wept for gallant Duke Charle Organa, whose spirit of self-sacrifice had moved him to protect an enemy without second thought. Why, why had it come to this?

*

The young Knight was ushered into Jharkus’ tent not long after. He had come alone.

He uttered a foul oath when he saw Duke Charle’s headless body, but stopped short of attacking Jharkus when he saw his enemy’s tear-stained face. “What happened here?”

“Angral happened,” Jharkus croaked. “I was just about to conclude a peaceful solution, when Angral interrupted.” He swallowed. What was his pride, when compared to Elana’s life? A life that the noblest Duke had given his own life to protect? He would play the part the butcher had demanded. “I am to take you prisoner, in exchange for all the hostages. Surrender, or they will all be executed.”

The Jedi’s face darkened for a moment, then he tilted his head and snorted. “Very nice threat. ‘A’ for effort. But your heart’s not quite into it. I’m glad acting isn’t one of your many talents. Now, stop wasting our time, and tell me what really happened here.”

He helped Jharkus into a chair, listening carefully to all he had to tell him.

“So what you’re saying is, that you want to get me to Darth Angral, to save Lady Thul’s life? Not such a bad trade, is it? After all, I’m trying to meet the good Darth myself.”

Jharkus took a moment to register the words. “What are you plotting?”

“Take me to Thul Palace, as Angral demanded. Once there, I will help you free Elana. From there, I can take his own shuttle back to Angral’s ship. I really need to show that coward how to kiss the floor.”

“I would give both my arms to see you do that,” Baron Jharkus said in the most severe tones he had ever used. “That man… the word ‘butcher’ does not come close to encapsulating his cruelty!”

“Glad you’re onboard.” He knelt down to the body beside Baron Jharkus and pressed his forehead to the chest. “I’m sorry, Duke Charle. I promise, your death won’t be in vain.”

“I also swear,” Baron Jharkus mirrored the boy’s gesture, though it wasn’t an Alderaanian one. It felt appropriate. “I will save the life you sacrificed your own for. I will honor your nobility.”

*

[pashterlengkap]

I came out as trans in college. Then my lacrosse coach spoke out against trans athletes.

Last summer, Kimberly Russell, then-head women’s lacrosse coach at Oberlin College, defended herself after denigrating trans swimmer Lia Thomas’ 500-yard freestyle win at the 2022 NCAA Division 1 Swimming championships. Russell reported feeling “burned at the stake” after members of her team spoke up about her behavior and sparked conversations with her supervisors about what she could and could not post on social media.  I was on that team.  Related: Riley Gaines & large anti-trans coalition to rally against trans athletes at NCAA convention The NCAA allows trans students to compete as their gender if they meet certain hormone requirements. In Spring 2022, Russell reposted commentary from her friend’s Instagram story relaying the idea that Thomas had an unfair advantage and was not the “real” freestyle winner of that event. Some of my teammates at the time saw the story and voiced their concerns with the athletic director. This resulted in a mediated discussion with our coach and with DEI representatives. Usually on that team, I stayed quiet. But I was one of the only trans members, so I felt the need to speak up.  Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. Russell champions herself as a protector of women’s sports. She has appeared on Fox News to declare, “The reason we have these opportunities to play and to coach and to do the things we do is because of the women who came before who fought for Title IX.��  She also said she doesn’t think “the younger generation even understands that these opportunities weren’t here years ago, and if we are going to allow biological males to compete in women’s and girl’s sports, why do we even have women’s and girl’s sports, why do we even have Title IX, and why do we have legislation for women?”  It is clear that she thinks trans rights and women’s rights are in contention, and the way she cut off conversation with our team was indicative of her unwillingness to learn, despite touting her office as a “place where people could come to cry, to be loved, to get support”.  We explained the pain that her actions caused the majority of the team. She responded with arguments of biology, seeking to negate any possible validity of Thomas’ win. She lacked any understanding of why trans people are fighting to exist in sports in the first place. I chimed in about the importance of mental health and the necessity to be validated in one’s identity to be able to pursue our passions.  When finding yourself could mean losing your team I came out as trans during my time at Oberlin, and I experienced a profound wave of growth and self-discovery that I could not have found anywhere else. I no longer felt defined by being an athlete in “women’s” sports. I could simply compete as I was. Having played field hockey for 14 years and lacrosse for 6, competing in these sports has made up most of my adolescence and is a huge driver of my work ethic to this day. But coming out enabled me to start redefining my relationship with sports, as well as with my own self-confidence. Trans athletes don’t want to steal competitions and podiums; we are simply motivated individuals who want to compete in the sports that have long made up huge facets of our identities on a team that affirms who we are. Amidst the controversy with Russell, I decided to stay on the team for a while. Despite her anti-trans rhetoric, she prided herself on building a culture of love and understanding and at times had been quite a grounding presence through her belief in holistic wellness.   Independent of Russell, Oberlin was the first place where I understood that my transness and my identity as an athlete were not mutually exclusive. But after Russell’s bouts of misgendering, her use of the term “trans-identifying”, and her insistence that “biological males” shouldn’t be in women’s locker rooms,… http://dlvr.it/T1vdnS

[biblioflyer]

Thoughts about Admiral Clancy and Starfleet Antagonists, Picard s1e2 Rewatch

Narrative and (Un)Reliable Narrators

Should we always trust that the protagonist is right in Star Trek? Was this true in the pre-streaming era of Trek? Is this still a safe assumption? I don’t personally think it has ever been completely true and it definitely isn’t wholly accurate now.

This is part of a series of essays reevaluating Star Trek Picard and interrogating the widely held fandom criticism that Picard made the Federation into a Dystopia.

A topic I’d like to discuss at length is Admiral Clancy’s meeting with Picard. This scene is one of the most hotly debated in some circles as to whether or not the Federation presented in Star Trek Picard has become a dystopia or if the situation was one of those slow running tragedies that happen in environments of terror and limited information.

Clancy is very much taking up the same role as the Interviewer from the previous episode in that she provides more exposition about the Federation’s apparent abdication of its interest in the outside universe and the Romulans in particular. She also acts to reinforce the audience’s perception of Picard acting alone against a hostile and fallen Federation.

I think there’s every reason to think that Clancy is a good faith actor. 

Let me explain what I mean by that. She greets Picard warmly and seems to start off by being cautiously interested, if not concerned for him as one might for a friend or mentor who just lost his chill on live interstellar tv and has had a bit of a cloud hanging over him. Her frustration with Picard doesn’t seem cynical or calculated, she seems genuinely convinced that Picard is waving off inconvenient facts in pursuit of some wild conspiracy theory.

Narratively, Clancy definitely seems like she is supposed to present as self assured. 

Against the broader backdrop of the Star Trek universe, ought we, the audience, to agree with her? 

On a surface level, certainly not! 

After all, Picard is the title character and our hero, therefore he should be unquestionably correct in all things, right? Right? 

As I’ve said before, I think that this show may either intentionally or accidentally be presenting a more complex moral question and thus is pulling its punches when making the case for the Federation’s isolationist and martial turn in order to make it that much more plausible that it can ultimately reclaim its idealism when proven wrong.

Sympathy for the Devil

Characters who narratively function as obstacles may be antagonists, but not bad people.

One of the frustrating things about life, in the real world, and life in the fictional world is that we don’t always know people’s motives or background. What do we know for example about Admiral Clancy’s motivations?

To be frank, we don’t know. Yet if we wanted to conjecture a sympathetic character whose narrative role is to be an obstacle to Picard, it really wouldn’t be hard. Perhaps she’s someone whose experiences in the Dominion War hardened her.  Perhaps she was never a hero in the conventional sense. Perhaps she rose through the ranks commanding depots and shipyards, ensuring supplies got where they needed to be and refits finished on time. 

How many Starfleet officers actually spend their time thumbing their noses at space gods and how many do milk runs to out of the way colonies delivering subspace relays and industrial replicators?

Perhaps one might think that having to resort to starting so many sentences with “perhaps” is a sign of bad storytelling or bad worldbuilding. Perhaps the audience ought not to have to rely so much on imagination or invention. 

Is there a difference between a streamlined narrative to ensure good story momentum and a plot hole? I personally think so. Maybe I’m just a crusty old compassionate soul, but I guess my instinct is to be charitable to fictional characters and non-fictional writers, directors, producers etc.

Author's note: I found myself with a sort of Mandela effect wherein I could have sworn that after looking it up, Admiral Clancy was Admiral Yancy, but when I re-looked it up, it was Clancy. If you see any lingering Yancy's, then I am a variant and please don't report me to the TVA or Starfleet Temporal Affairs.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Evidence

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: shooting

Word Count: 1,615

Request:  Hi ! Can you do a jay halstead × reader where jay and y/n are dating secretly but one night jay left a hickey on y/n necks and on the next day y/n try to cover it up before work but can't and the rest of the intelligence team spot it and jay blush but she makes up a story but the intelligence team know and y/n and jay come clean and tell the rest of the team they are together ❤ thank you

All in all, you thought you’d done pretty well, giving your neck one last look in your rearview mirror before turning on the ignition and heading to the 21st. 

Jay had left your place early, neither of you arriving at work at the same time so as to not raise suspicions, so he’d been heading out the door when you’d finally gotten out of bed, already driving away by the time you spotted the hickey on your neck in your bedroom mirror. 

You were not impressed to say the least, what part of a secret relationship had escaped his mind? With an annoyed groan you got to work covering it up the best you could, applying foundation more skillfully than you’d expected as you got ready for work.

There would be time for words later. 

You were still driving in when the call came over the radio, shooting nearby your location with officers in need of backup, one down. Quickly throwing on your lights you expertly did a u-turn and headed back up the street you’d just passed, noticing people running for covering in the opposite direction to where you were going, frightened with their heads down.

It didn’t take long to stop the suspect, mask over his head and gun waving about in his hands as he shot behind him with reckless abandon at the uniformed officer in pursuit. 

Slamming on your brakes you dove out of your vehicle, gun out and ready to engage. “Hey!” You called, diverting his attention from the other officers as his gun swung in your direction, diving behind a nearby car just as the bullets began to fly. 

You poked your head up after a moment, getting off a shot before he realised the odds weren’t in his favour and took off into the garden of the car behind him. Cursing you slid over the bonnet of the car you were behind. 

“I’ll get him, you get your partner!” You told the officer, who nodded gratefully and ran back to his fallen colleague, his led badly bleeding.

“This is 50 21 Foxtrot responding to the 10 1 on West 47th, I’m on the tail of an armed offender fleeing the scene of the shooting making his way South-” you paused, a little breathless as you hopped a fence and quickly dived to the side, narrowly avoiding another bullet as the offender kept running. You gave your most apologetic look to the women screaming in the garden you’d just entered but kept going, you couldn’t stop now - “through the neighbouring gardens, we should be coming out onto West 48th soon.” 

The sound of cars was getting louder as you ran, a tall fence looking like it separated the two of you and the main road as the offender opened for a narrow side path out onto the street. 

You were gaining on him fast as he tried to climb over it, grabbing his coat and pulling him down. His gun fell from his hand and you kicked it away as he scrambled after it, punching him hard in the jaw as he turned back to lash out at you.

“Stay down,” you ordered breathlessly, gun out and aimed square in his direction as the gate opened behind you, back up coming through. “You have the right to remain silent...” you relayed, getting out a pair of cuffs as you read him his rights and passed him off to the unis to bring back to the 21st in their squad car.

And then you were off to work.

-

“Hell of a morning,” Trudy commented as soon as you eventually stepped into the district, pushing her glasses up onto her head as you approached, an eyebrow going up as you reached the desk, “in more than one way I see.”

Your brow creased, “pardon?” You asked, unsure of what she was suggesting with her tone.

“My mistake, you must have got that bruise during the chase,” Trudy said sarcastically, gesturing to her own neck. Your eyes went a little wide, your hand going to where you’d spent way too much of your morning covering up the hickey Jay had given you. 

“Of course,” you hummed unconvincingly, rushing to the bathroom as Trudy laughed. All that effort to cover it up and your sweat had washed it away, hopefully you could cover it up again before anyone wondered why you weren’t upstairs yet.

Barging into the bathroom you riffled through your bag for the foundation you’d brought, just in case you’d needed to touch it up throughout the day, but in all the excitement of the morning you’d forgotten all about it. Oops.

You were putting the finishing touches on covering it up when the door swung open again, too late to hide what you were doing as you found yourself face to face with Burgess. 

“Voight’s looking for you upstairs,” she relayed, clearly amused as you hurriedly shoved your things back into your bag, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. 

You were going to kill Jay.

She didn’t say anything on the walk up the stairs, but you avoid her eye guiltily as she buzzed you both up and you made your way to the bull pen.

“Took you long enough,” Adam commented when you both emerged, a coffee in his hand as he leaned against the breakroom door. 

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N was busy covering up a hickey in the bathroom,” Burgess replied non-chalantly, much to your emence embarrassment. Kev snorted out a laugh and Jay choked on his drink as you tried not to meet his eye. 

“Was she now?” Hailey laughed, the others clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. 

“I er- no- it was during the call this morning-” you tried and failed to sound believable as the others laughed more, Adam being the first to notice how red Jay had gotten since the converation began.

“No one’s buying that Y/N,” Kim informed you as Adam clapped Jay on the shoulder. 

“Well that’s interesting,” he commented, watching the way Jay awkwardly cleared his throat, not daring to look at you. The others picked up on it too, the both of you looking very guilty in a room full of trained detectives. 

“Got something to share there Halstead?” Kev asked, Jay finally looking at you with apology in his eyes as he finally saw the pourly applied foundation covering the very visible hickey he’d left.

You both hesitated before answering - was there really any use hiding it anymore? A room full of your closest friends who also happened to be detectives weren’t exactly going to drop the subject, or believe whateve bs you gave them in the moment.

Sharing a mutual resigned nod Jay rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Okay, well, we’ve kind of...”

“...being seeing each other,” you finished for him, realising he was unsure how to put into words exactly what you’d both been doing. If you were honest, you didn’t know exactly what this was either, you hadn’t discussed labels, but you both had feelings for each other, that much you knew for sure. 

“For how long?” Hailey asked, looking at her partner with slightly narrowed eyes, wondering how long he’d been keeping this from her more than anything.

“A couple months,” Jay said, glancing back up at you with a little smile.

“Months?” Adam was shocked you’d both managed to keep this a secret from them for so long, “and this is the first we’re hearing about it?”

“Well, we didn’t want to get our wires crossed,” you shrugged, gesturing to try and get your point across, “we work together.” That had been one of the first things you’d talked about the first time you’d spent the night together, keeping your personal and professional lives as separate as you could. 

“Yes, you do,” you heard your Sergeant say, jumping as Voight emerged from his office, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Uh-oh. “Is this going to get in the way of doing your job?”

You swallowed and shook your head, “no, sir.”

“We’re good Sarge,” Jay said at the same time.

All the teasing and joking smiles from the unit had vanished, waiting for Voight’s reaction with bated breath as he mulled it over in his head. 

“Good,” he nodded, much to your relief, though you knew the conversation was far from over, “because we’ve got a case to get back to.”

He was right, this was work, there’d be time to think and talk about this more later - right now you had a dead city official and a cop in the hospital.

Burgess winked at you as you made your way to your desk, picking up a scrunched up piece of paper you had lying around and throwing at her once Voight’s back is turned. He paused, shaking his head, but didn’t turn back around as he went back to his desk. 

You rolled your eyes at her and settled into your chair, knowing you had a report to write up about this morning’s incident, your perp down in holding at that very moment. 

Still, you couldn’t help but look over at Jay, who was looking right back at you, offering you a small smile which you returned in kind. Voight wasn’t the only one who’d want to finish this conversation later, you and Jay had a lot to talk about now too, given that everything was out in the open. 

Still, as you turned back to your desk and tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to turn out okay.

[goldheartedsky]

I told myself I wasn’t going to make a post like this—that I wasn’t going to stoop to the level of making call-out posts—but I really can’t stay silent after what has happened in the last day or so.

The TOG fandom has a serious issue with excusing antisemitism and allowing people who have painfully hurt marginalized groups to continue to ignore, dismiss, and refuse to acknowledge their limits of intersectionality in regards to social justice. I have seen it myself, been on the receiving end of it, and have talked to other Jews in this fandom about what’s been going on and it needs to start being addressed.

Now, I’m not going to name names or tag people (mainly because I have been blocked by almost all of them for this very issue) but if you message me I will gladly tell you the users involved in this. Also, if you have doubts of any of this’s validity and would like screenshots, feel free to reach out to me here or via Discord and I will share them.

A lot of this started when a member of the All&More server had brought up the scientific and medical “discoveries” during the torture and medical experimentation that took place during the Third Reich and how a lot of the origin of it isn’t taught. LR made a comment saying that “we are three-dimensional creatures who are stuck moving forward in time and can’t go back” and added that not using the research won’t make past horrors not happen. When the original user added that there has been a movement in medicine for removing Nazi scientists names off discoveries and that progress was slow moving, she deflected the conversation onto herself, saying “Not using research won’t make my family not harmed by the Japanese” and then immediately pivoted into admitting that, from what she understood, there weren’t any particularly valid scientific discoveries made by them. She then said, in regards to said Nazi atrocities, “Take it, learn about it, put it in context, and then own it and transform it.”

A Jewish member of A&M voiced their discomfort about possibly taking medicine that was a direct result of the murder of their grandparents and other relatives, to which LR said, “Still stuck in the 3rd dimension, still moving forward in time.” I brought up the fact that medicine was built on antisemitism and racism and that starting over would be better than a lot of the procedures we have now. There is a longstanding issue in medicine of disregarding black pain and so much of what we have now is created by eugenicists—including Nazi scientists. There is still a lot of Jewish trauma due to medical experimentation and that is oftentimes dismissed.

LR then made a flippant comment about “Does this count as Godwin’s Law?”—which is about how all internet discussions lead to someone being compared to Nazis/Hitler. When called out on the inappropriateness of the comment, she did not respond and was backed up by one of the mods of the server. There was no apology made nor an acknowledgment about the casual antisemitism of the comments she made and the dismissal of Jewish trauma/pain.

Now, fast forward a couple months when I was contacted by a third party who had not been in the server at the time but had joined and heard about what LR had said there. H said they were friends with LR and had concerns about antisemitism and would like my perspective. I explained what had happened and offered screenshots if they would like them, which they did. They thanked me and apologized that it got to a point that I felt unsafe in the server and had to leave, which I appreciated.

A couple weeks later they reached out to me again and offered to broker a conversation between LR and myself because the situation wasn’t sitting well with them. I was skeptical (because I had been blocked at that point) and didn’t have a lot of hope that this conversation would actually take place but I felt a responsibility to try and be the bigger person and deal with what had been said head on, so I agreed to sit down and have a discussion with her as long as there was a third party in the chat as well—given our history.

After a couple weeks of back and forth with H and hearing that LR had said that she would “think about it”, she finally agreed. I was asked for a time and date and I gave my availability and was told she would be asked for the same. A couple days later, I was suddenly told LR would only be comfortable with this conversation if H acted as a “literal go-between” with us copy-pasting our responses in their DMs so we can “sit with the message and everyone can get to them when they can” rather than it being a session with an actual back and forth and was asked if I was okay with that. I honestly said no, because this was supposed to be a situation where she and I sat down and discussed what she said in the server, not a back and forth message relay where the conversation got dragged out for days or weeks or however long it was going to take. I said if she was serious about meeting me halfway on this, she needed to be able to sit down and actually talk.

H copy-pasted my response to LR and came back that she had backed out of the conversation, which part of me had expected from the beginning—even though all I wanted from this sit down was for her to understand how hurtful the antisemitic comments were and an apology.

These comments that were made in the server are not a secret. It’s pretty well known what was said and again, these were all on record, not privately made in some DM. She has still not owned up to the comments she said, nor has she ever apologized for them. She has ignored message after message about them and blocked more people than I can count. Many of the people defending her when the discourse begins have also been messaged about the comments she’s said and also either block people or ignore the messages completely and refuse to acknowledge them.

Now, this being said, in the most recent conversation about fandom racism, someone brought up the post that was made reducing users on ao3 to faceless, nameless numbers without saying who they were, what they had done, and how they were specifically contributing to the problem of racism in this fandom. They made the comparison of other situations like HR looking at pay stats to see how to fire and included “Nazis, capitalists, and colonizers.”

This is not an invalid argument. There have been other Jews in the fandom who specifically voiced feeling uncomfortable for the exact same reason. However, another person, LT, decided to specifically make a post calling the OP out and drag them for having the audacity to liken it to the Shoah (which, mind you, this person is not Jewish nor did they decide to capitalize Shoah or the Holocaust as they should have). She received a reply saying, “you’re offended by antisemitism? Here’s LR’s (someone LT has agreed with multiple times over racism in fandom) track record of antisemitic comments” which outlined everything I delved into previously.

LT said that they were “unaware of this incident until a couple days ago” but agreed that it was an upsetting display of casual dismissal of Jewish pain and hoped that LR had apologized. She was then called out for being aware of it and still continuing to reblog LR’s posts even after knowing about the comments and was linked to my post clarifying that LR had not apologized and refused a discussion about it, to which LT said that she had gotten “quite a different version outlined in the post linked and corroborated by a third party” and “felt uncomfortable” making a value judgement, insinuating that I was not being truthful about my side of the story.

I messaged LT off-anon and said that I was not lying nor over-exaggerating about what had happened in the server or about the following discussion about trying to broker a conversation with LR, and was immediately blocked by her. I am also not the only Jew who has sent her messages about this topic, only to have their messages ignored.

Now, am I surprised that I was immediately blocked after voicing my issues with what LT had said in that post? No.

She has a history of making antisemitic comments, most of which happened during the brunt of the Israel/Palestine discussion happening, which included statements such as “You cannot be considered indigenous if you hold a position of power”, that, despite having been displaced for 2,000 years, the Jewish diaspora was “integrated” into their respective communities (a wholly untrue statement), as well as linked to and promoted a website with extremely antisemitic articles including one about “Spartan Jews” and how Israeli Jews are violent to “send messages to their deprived self-esteem” that they won’t be victims again. Half of the comments on the site’s front page included such hits as “Death to all Jews” and “Wow, I had no idea this was happening—I guess it is true that Jews control the world and the mass media.” This website was repeated in multiple posts as “unbiased” and “a good resource” for other people to truly know what was going on.

Jewish dissent on the content of some posts and that website went unacknowledged and dismissed.

Being that LT is a relatively big user in the TOG fandom, her posts got circulated frequently. Seeing things like that touted as unbiased was extremely triggering for me and multiple Jews in this fandom that I’ve spoken to.

Now, the reason I made this post in particular was because I have seen a lot of echoing of the sentiment: “no matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is...well aligning yourself with racists.”

This statement NEEDS to become intersectional. If we are criticizing the work of people because of who they hold company with, why does that end at racism? If we are going to have a discussion about racism in this fandom, why are we letting it come from people who have openly said antisemitic things, people who have stood by them and supported them in silence, and people who have silenced Jewish voices speaking up about this issue.

These are not separate issues. This is a really good post regarding the white washing of Jews in social justice discussion and it comes full circle into the medical experimentation discussion. Jews were not seen as white during the Holocaust. The Nazis were trying to cleanse the Aryan race because they did not view Jews as white. They experimented on them because they did not view them as white and, thus, disposable.

Every Jewish diasporic community is still vulnerable. Even though the US has half the world’s Jews, over 50% of the religiously based hate crimes are consistently anti-Jewish even though Jews make up 2% of the population. Chinese Jews are still holding their holiday celebrations in secret due to government crackdowns. The attempted genocide of Beta Israel was less than 50 years ago. Across the Middle East and North Africa, Jewish communities are barely hanging on after centuries of attempted destruction. These are not just Jewish issues but racial issues as well because when people make the sweeping generalization of “Jew” and they only mean white-passing Ashkenazi Jews, it erases so much of our community.

I absolutely agree that this fandom needs to have a discussion about race and portrayal in fic and what we can do better moving forward—and I want to see that done—but we also need to acknowledge what so many people starting this discussion have said and the marginalized groups they have hurt along the way. I see these posts come across my dashboard and know exactly who they're coming from and what they think of people like me. If we are going to say, “No matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is aligning yourself with racists,” then we NEED to be saying, “If you are aligning yourself with antisemites, you’re aligning yourself with antisemites.”

We all need to move forward. But that means moving forward together. Jews included.