#but now that i’ve vastly matured and become a man

[crowdiak]

[spectrum-color]

One of the most frustrating things about Fitz is his relationship to fatherhood. He is obsessed with having a child. When Patience warns him that the method Molly is using for contraception doesn’t actually work, he just thinks about how tragic it is that she’s even trying to prevent pregnancy in the first place. He is stuck on a domestic fantasy where he marries and has a family with her and has no plan about how to make this actually work. Of course she ends up pregnant, and he watches her and the baby in dreams and talks about going to them and marrying her, but then she marries Burrich and he chooses to pretend he’s dead and not to be in his daughters life at all rather than face the reality that Molly ended up with someone else (I don’t believe for one moment that it was actually selfless or for their safety considering that he went back to the much riskier Buckkeep where he would be surrounded by people who knew him before.)

He takes in Hap, but clearly doesn’t really know what to do with him and doesn’t give him much in the way of guidance or planning for his future until Hap brings it up himself. He just kind of floats along in his depression cabin. When he’s dragged back to Buckkeep, he’s initially resentful of and a total dick to Dutiful (his bio son unbeknownst to anyone but him and the Fool.) It takes the poor kid basically forcing a relationship for them to have any kind of positive interactions. Later on, he gets his memories and feelings back, and it seems like he’s going to make a good effort to finally connect with Nettle and help take care of Molly and Burrichs sons now that they’ve lost their dad. Instead, it seems he mostly pays attention to the kids for the sole purpose of impressing Molly and then loses interest once he marries her. His life with her ends up being about reliving his teenage romance rather than becoming part of her family. He has a distant relationship with Nettle and none of note with his stepsons.

Then comes Bee, a bio child he can raise from birth (something he always fixated on.) She doesn’t turn out like he expected. She is very slow to grow and develop, and people around them think she may have disabilities. Fitz is blatantly disappointed by her and leaves her care to Molly since she isn’t the kind of child he wanted. It isn’t until Molly dies and he has no choice that he makes any kind of effort to bond with Bee, and he still flounders in the way that only a man raised by people who had no idea what they were doing can. When she’s missing, he tries to hide her journals from Beloved not because he’s reluctant to share her but because he’s ashamed of what kind of father he was and afraid of what it will say about him.

Despite how critical I’ve been here, I think this all makes sense. Fitz was a deeply lonely kid who was traumatized by his parents abandonment, and he wanted a family of his own to fill that void. He doesn’t have the emotional skills or maturity (he continues acting like a teen well into adulthood) to actually parent effectively though, so he ends up falling vastly short of the life he’s convinced he can have.

[jerzwriter]

Diatribe - Part 1

This is long.  Those of you who know me know that brevity will never be my strong suit.  But I think there is a lot to be said right now. 

The past 7-months have been a trip. The ugly in this fandom has shown itself frequently, but so has the good. I always say the good outweighs the bad, and I still believe that, but maybe I’m a little more discouraged than before.

Before I begin, the only living creature that knows I'm writing this is my dog, and he's asleep, so that's arguable. See, some still believe there is a coven of 10 that gathers at midnight to plot fandom and world domination.  The idea is so beyond laughable, and I’ve addressed it before, but.  But since many anons needed to bring that up again, I am mentioning it again, even though I know people will believe what they wish.

I knew well I’d get a barrage of hate for speaking up this week, and I did.  Though there was a ton of support, too. I speak when I see something I believe is wrong. I’m not going to change that.  Numerous people have reached out to me privately, some to thank me because they were afraid to speak up themselves, and some creators and readers who wished to explain their varying perspectives.  And I applaud all of them for having the maturity of speaking candidly without hiding behind anon.  They are all to be commended.  In addition, they are all to remain anonymous to everyone except me, and that will go for anyone who contacts me.

As much as this all sucks, I’m glad I'm the person involved because I'm in a unique position as an OH fandom creator that writes for both Ethan x MC and Tobias x MC. I have taken a barrage of hate in the past because my version of Ethan (particularly in AUs) is not always perfect, and he doesn't always get the girl. But I've also gotten plenty of hate and shade from people because I also write (especially in HC) a fluffier version of the man. So, I have experienced all sides, and I know both camps have an extreme fringe that takes things too far.

I am also somewhat unique in that I read, reblog and support writers with varying interpretations of the character. I appreciate and enjoy all versions, even those vastly different from mine.   I understand that people’s time is limited and that many people will only want to read works that see things from their perspective, and that’s fine.  Though, I wish more would branch out because you're missing out on some great work.

But it’s become apparent to me that some in the fandom who do not write for Ethan in a “fairy-tale” sort of way feel there is no place for them in the fandom.  Whether you, the reader, agree with this or not is irrelevant. The point is that people feel this way, and if they do, as a fandom, it should be acknowledged.  But solutions do not happen in dark corners of group chats or discord servers.  Don’t misunderstand, and I am all for people blowing off steam with their friends privately.  It’s one of the things friends are for.  But that sort of thing also tends to lead to greater feelings of anger, resentment, and, in the worst cases, bad decisions.

I’ve asked people to supply me with specific reasons why they feel this way, understanding that notes alone cannot be an answer – see the previous comment about limited time and people only reading what they wish to.  Some are afraid of sharing their ideas for fear of backlash, and I get that because I experience it myself.  It’s not fun, and it’s unacceptable. But I’ve asked them to provide more concrete examples of why they feel this way because, without them, the only thing that will continue to happen is the disillusionment and chaos that we have today.

I know there are some who are spinning what happened with me this week as “big bad Elsa from fairytale land attacking those who are not.” This is simply inaccurate.  First, I only live in fairytale land part-time, and I have the hate mail to prove it. Second, I was about to comment on part 1 of the original post from this week, agreeing with many points it made.  But I refrained after reading part 2, because part 2 was targeted at very specific people, and it was not nice. I understand that the “fantasy” Ethan is the more popular in the fandom, but that does not make it acceptable to diminish or belittle those who create and enjoy that content either.  I can see how it’s easy to make this into a David and Goliath thing, but it’s not. Because if David did something messed up, it is still messed up. (Disclaimer – my knowledge of biblical facts is limited, so I hope this is a decent analogy.)

The bottom line is that this problem doesn’t get solved by creators from either camp turning on creators in another.   Last night an anon asked the OP of the original post to stop using the Ethan tag.  Seriously? I reblogged that too because I meant it when I said I will call out bad behavior when I see it. I’m tired of seeing it in the fandom.  If you don’t like a creator’s work, don’t read it.  But if they write Ethan, then they goddamn well should use the Ethan tag. For the record, I would recommend you check out her work because it is quite good.

We’re allowed to disagree.  We’re allowed to have differences of opinion.  We’re allowed to vent to others privately.  So, y’all, don’t worry. I don’t care if you’ve called me a bitch in a group chat.  Take that off any plates of worries you may have.  But here are some things we need to do:  

We should not be mean to each other.

We should not mock those who do not agree with us.

We should not be sending hate anons.

We should not be mad/jealous at some for getting more notes than we do (if notes are your thing, consider writing MCU).

We SHOULD be HONEST with each other if we’re feeling hurt or neglected. 9/10 times the person you’re feeling slighted by doesn’t even know it’s occurring.  Being upfront always works better.

We SHOULD be respecting each other.  Even if we don’t like the other person’s work.  Even if we don’t care for them personally.  Even if we’ve had a falling out.  Even if we find out they root The Red Sox (total attempt at humor… sorry, I am OK if you do.)

The fandom is big enough for all.  Sadly, I know the bullying and the bullshit will never fully stop.  Hell, it doesn’t stop in real life, either.  I wish it would, but it doesn’t.  And we are ALL human, so we will all fuck up and do something we regret.  But we have to do better – ALL OF US.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (Reader Menstruates, but no pronouns used, reader is Marcus’ partner not specified as GF or BF)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Nudity, nothing sexual though, are boy is just here to help you)

Warnings: Blood because periods and your embarrassment, but Marcus is a sweetie and he is here to help you. 

Summary: There’s one thing about Marcus that differentiates him from all your past boyfriend’s and that is that he’s an adult man who acts like an adult man. He’s mature, he’s responsible, he’s kind, he’s pragmatic and romantic. So when you’re bleeding everywhere, it surprises you, but really shouldn’t, that he’s calm, collected and just wants to take care of you.

Notes: This is a theme I come back to, I think mostly because as an adult who menstruates there’s something deeply attractive about a man who’s a actual adult and can’t handle you bleeding from your vagina like an adult and not like a child who can’t even say the word period. 

Archiveofourown

There was never a worse feeling than the slick wetness of blood pooling between your thighs at 2 in the morning. There was not a worse way to find yourself roused from sleep than to feel that sensation as blood slips down your inner thighs and pools beneath you soaking into your bed covers and clothes, this wake-up call was made exponentially worse when you realised Marcus had slept over and that you’d never even had to broach the topic of periods with him. No, no conversation had ever happened, you had no idea what his attitude was, but now you’d gone and bled over your bedding and partly on him, if the feeling of blood pooling near where he was curled around you was anything to go by. You hadn’t expected to have to deal with this with your boyfriend of four months, but you supposed it was inevitable, seeing as it happened every month. 

With a groan you push the duvet off of the two of you and sit up to assess the damage. Turning on the lamp, Marcus barely stirs as you take time to figure out what’s happened. There’s a noticeable red spot through your pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet underneath has a large wet spot too, looking to Marcus you feel embarrassment warm your cheeks at the blood stains on his pajama bottoms where he’d been curled up with you. It makes you want to cry because this is not how you wanted to wake up or spend your morning and you’ll have to wake Marcus who already has to get up early to leave for a case at 5am. He shouldn’t have to get up early and he shouldn’t have to have his pajama bottoms ruined by your blood. 

“Marcus...baby.” You shake his shoulders gently, wincing at the feeling of blood slipping down your legs as you sit up and how gross you feel in that moment. You can’t believe it came a whole week early, a whole week, how were you supposed to predict that? 

“Mmm, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, deeper than usual if that’s possible and under any other circumstance it would make you want to curl up into him as he talked to you. 

“I...I started my period and there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry for waking you, baby, but you need to get changed...I...I’m sorry.” It’s the embarrassment and upset in your voice that wakes him up fully, forcing him to sit up and take stock of the situation. You’re right there’s blood on him, but that’s okay, his pajamas are the ratty sort that he should have thrown out years ago anyway. You're covered in it and the bed needs changing too, but it’s okay, he thinks, this is okay, he can do that simply enough. He’s never minded changing the bed. The sheets are dark enough in colour that it shouldn’t stain too badly. He’s calculating the best course of action, what to do first before he even notices your downward gaze and trembling lip.

“Hey...honey,” He’s cupping your cheeks in his hands, large and warm. They bring your focus back onto him and not the blood that is drying on your legs or the aching that’s starting up in your lower back and abdomen. “It’s okay, a little blood never hurt anyone. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He keeps his voice soft for you, hands stroking a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

He’s wide awake now as he steps out of your bed and walks to your side, hands gripping your own as he walks you backwards to the bathroom. The bed can wait until he’s got you into the shower and got you some clothes and whatever else you need. You come first and you’re clearly uncomfortable as the blood flows steadily downwards with the force of gravity.

“I’m so embarrassed, Marcus…” You can’t wait to get clean, you feel horrible and uncomfortable. The lure of warm water has you picking up the pace to the bathroom even though your stomach cramps are getting worse and worse with each second. 

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. If it’s about the blood…” He gestures to the red stains on his sweatpants that you just know aren’t coming out with how they’ve already dried, “I’m an adult, a little blood doesn’t bother me and I needed to throw these away anyway.” 

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up as he begins to help you out of your stained pajamas. He’s certain he can get the blood out of them if he gets them in a tub to soak fast enough, the blood is fresh enough. He knows they’re your favourite pair and he’d hate for you to have to throw them away, “I don’t ever want you to be ashamed of your periods, sweetheart, it’s natural. It’s okay.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You think back to the last couple of boyfriends, how they just couldn’t even stomach you mentioning your period let alone the sight of blood or a sanitary towel or tampon. He’s so vastly different in the maturity with which he’s handling this that it confuses you that he’s not shying away from you right now. 

“Baby,” He holds your face in his hands again once you're free of your clothes, “I don’t know what sort of guys you were dating before, but they should have helped you with this, okay? I’m not setting a new standard, I'm just doing what I should.” It breaks his heart to think that you’re ashamed of your body, of something that you can’t help and that you somehow think he’s something special for doing what anyone should do for their partner when they’re bleeding for days on end. It’s the least you should expect from him. 

“Now, get your cute butt in that shower and I'll get these clothes in a bucket and change the bedding. Do you want one of my shirts to change into? Where do you keep your tampons? Pads?” Taps you on the butt, a light tap urging you under the warm spray before gathering your clothes. 

“Yes please, I think there’s one in my closet? The flannel that you left last time? I’ve got some stuff in here in the cupboard,” You think to your stash under the sink, grateful you weren’t running out of anything. 

“The flannel, got it, honey!” 

He leaves you to your shower and strips the bed off first before anything else. The blood spot is pretty large, but it’s still wet and once again he’s pretty sure the stain will come out, especially in the darker fabric. His pajama bottoms follow, they’re probably a lost cause but he figures he might as well try and clean them just in case. He putters to your kitchen and fills your mop bucket up with cold water and stain remover, leaving the laundry in it to soak before putting it anywhere near a washing machine.

The flannel is in your chest of drawers and he grabs it along with a pair of your underwear that he’s sure are one of your comfier pairs. You’re still under the stream of hot water when he comes in to place them on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

“Got some clothes for you, sweetheart.” He takes a moment to watch you. He’s just happy to see you relaxed, sure it’s early in the morning and he’s tired, but seeing you brighten, that’s worth it. He can sleep on the plane later, it’ll take a few hours to get from DC to New York where his case is and he doesn’t mind being tired if it means your day goes a little smoother. 

“Thank you, baby.” You sigh out in response, the warm water easing some of the pain in your body. The cramps never feel as bad under warm water and your back ache eases a little bit at least. 

“Do you have a spare set of bedding?” 

“Umm…” You have to think for a moment, what did you do with your old bedding, did you throw it out? No, you wouldn’t have, surely not. “Maybe? Check the cabinet in the hallway?” 

He finds it hidden in the back of the hallway cabinet, the bedding doesn’t match the current colour scheme of your room but he doesn’t think that matters much when you just need a clean, comfy bed to fall into. He has the bed made by the time you’re walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, his flannel over your shoulders. 

“Get into bed, honey.” Marcus urges you, opening up the blankets for you and sliding in besides you. 

You reach over and turn the light off, “I’m sorry I woke you up at 2am…”

“It’s okay, sweetie, you need anything else?” He asks as he wraps himself around you, arms tight around your waist, face pressed into your shoulder, dropping little kisses there. His beard tickles a little, he’s still got the thing, not that you mind. He’s warm and he smells like comfort and that’s all you can really ask for even while your uterus is having a go at you.

“Just hold me till I fall asleep?” 

“I think that can be arranged.” A leg slips between yours, toes pressed into the back of your calf and it’s like having your own living, breathing weighted blanket. He becomes a comforting weight at your back, a warmth that has your eyes drooping and you yawning into your pillow. 

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

The next time you wake up it’s to say goodbye to him at 5 in the morning. He demands you stay in bed, giving you a longer than necessary kiss on his way out and making sure the laundry is in the washing machine before he leaves. You miss him the moment you hear the front door shut, but allow yourself to nuzzle back into your covers and fall back asleep. The lethargy you always feel around your period hitting you like a truck already. 

Work for the next few days is a killer. Your back aches, your stomach keeps cramping so hard you want to bend yourself in half to relieve them. You’re constantly hungry, constantly tired, and everything your co-workers say gets on your nerves. Added to missing your boyfriend, who’s off trying to deal with another stupid art thief who couldn’t wait a few more weeks before deciding to steal a Picasso, you’re having a hell of a week and a hell of a period. You’re not sure you’ve had one this bad in a while actually. 

It’s a Wednesday evening when the door to your home opens and closes again, the sound of keys being thrown on the side and shoes being kicked off meeting your ears. You’re curled up on your sofa, a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach in a vain effort to relieve some of your discomfort. 

“Marcus?” You call out because it can only be Marcus, no one else has a key to your place. You’re a little confused because he always phones you when he’s on his way back from a case, but the rustling of bags and his deep voice calling down the corridor reassures you that maybe he just forgot, it’s certainly not a burglar. Unless, he has an evil doppelganger somewhere. 

“It’s me, honey!” He drops his bag by the door, he’ll deal with the dirty laundry later and follows the sound of your voice into the living room. You’re curled up amongst what looks like every blanket you own, mind numbing TV playing that you’re not even watching, your face is scrunched up in pain and you're clutching your stomach. This part of the reason he decided to forgo going back to his own place, he wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay, that and he really missed you.

He drops the shopping bags on the coffee table and crouches next to you, fingers pushing back strands of your hair and smoothing the harsh lines by your eyes as you wince. You’re warm to the touch and he hopes that’s normal for you and not a sign you’re getting sick on top of your period. 

“You okay?” 

“Just cramps. It’s okay...I’ll be okay., I’m just glad you’re back, I’ve missed you.” You ease into the soft feeling of fingers, the delicate little touches to your skin as rubs little circles into your temple and down your neck. You’ve missed this, missed him. You always miss him, but this period has hit you especially hard and you wanted him around more than ever.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, but you grab his tie and pull him back down. Nipping at his bottom lip he opens his mouth to your tongue, hand cupping the back of your neck before you’re gasping in pain as another crump hits you. Marcus pulls back and presses his forehead to yours with a sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Would a bath help? I stopped at the store on my way over, got some of your favourite bubblebath and those baked things that you like.” 

“Have I told you lately how you’re the perfect boyfriend?” You ask pressing kisses over his cheeks before settling for brushing your nose against his. You’re not sure how he manages to make you feel better even when you’re in pain and hormonal, but like a magic cure he does. 

“Mmm.. I don’t think so?”

“Well, you’re the perfect boyfriend and I love you very much.” You press another kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth before pulling back and settling back into your nest of blankets. 

“I love you too, why don’t you stay here? I’ll go run that bath.” He reaches down to grab the bubblebath from the bag and tosses you a few bags of your favourite snacks to munch on while you wait. You decide then and there that anyone who ever gave him up was an absolute idiot who couldn’t see that they already had the crown jewels. Why would you ever want anyone else?

He’s never understood your fascination with burning hot bath water, but he makes it how you prefer it even if it’s a tad hot for his tastes. If he wasn’t so sore from his flight, he might have tried to carry you to the bath, but the last thing he wanted was to drop you when you weren’t feeling great, so instead he just moves your half eaten snacks to the coffee table and pulls you gently by the hands to your bathroom. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way he helps you undress, it’s something you love about Marcus, that he can put aside his libido to help you get undressed and into your bath. There’s no touches outside of the caring and gentle ones, no comments about your nudity, just him helping you get into the hot bath water. You sink into it like it’s the finest feather bed, watching him undress himself, before sliding in behind you. Legs on either side of yours, chest pressed to your back. 

Your tub is a little small for the two of you, so you can’t stretch out completely, but that’s fine because you’d take it being a little cramped and Marcus being there over being on your own. He helps you wash, careful with you at every step, gentle as he whispers how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you and tells you about his case and how they managed to catch the gang of thieves this time. 

He massages the back of your neck and shoulders as you lie against him, working on the knots that have started to form over the last few days. A pop in your neck has you sighing and you’re thankful for the press of his fingers over your spin and through the knots that have been causing you to lose sleep while he’s been gone. 

The two of you stay there until the water begins to get cool, Marcus helping you out of the tub and drying you down with a towel. He collects your clothes and helps you get dressed for bed even though you can put your things on yourself. It’s nice that you don’t have to, that he carefully slides your legs into your pajama bottoms and drags your favourite sleep shirt over your head before pressing two quick kisses to your lips and ushering you into bed. 

“Marcus, where are you going?” You ask when he leaves you there, hand grabbing his as he walks past you to the door to the rest of your home. You just want him wrapped around you right now and can’t understand why he’d leave you.

“I’m going to lock up, honey, and grab your blankets. I’ll be back.” He gives your hand a squeeze. He loves that you want him around, after all the times he’s been more invested than his partner, this time, this time it feels right. You don’t just tolerate him, you love him. You want him there and it makes every little thing he does for you infinitely more rewarding when he knows you appreciate him for everything. 

“Quickly?” You’re cute staring up at him with a pout and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to take longer than is strictly necessary when he knows you're waiting for him to come back to bed and curl up beside you.

“Quickly.” He leans over you placing a kiss to your nose before going to lock up. He makes sure all the windows are shut, the front door locked, the television off, all before grabbing the pile of blankets you’d left on the sofa to return to you.

He throws them around you, letting you grab a few to snuggle up with, before climbing in bed beside you, spooning you from behind. He takes a deep breath and feels his body relax with the familiar smell of your shampoo and the feeling of your warm skin against his cheek. He could spend the rest of his life looking after you, curling up with you after coming back from a case and he would die happy that way. He’d happily take care of you through every single period and every single bout of sickness, just as long as he gets to be with you. 

“You need anything?”

“No, everything I need is right here, baby.” You sigh back into his arms, twisting a leg through his as he rubs a hand over your stomach soothing away the lingering pains with gentle circles.

[genyyasafin]

Consequences (They’re finally here)

Part 2 of 8!! Featuring young Curie and her grandmother (sort of) and told in the style of an interview. 

Tagging: @zoyyanazyalensky @fire-sapphics @official-flower-consultant @jam-is-my-food @i-love-side-characters @damischs @knifescythe

Somewhere in MidMerica, Year of the Raptor, 8 months after the sinking of Endura

BT (interviewer): Hello, I’m here about Susan Bauer?

VB (interviewee): *imperiously* No. You’re here about Honorable Scythe Marie Curie. I have little to add that has not already been said. 

BT *visibly confused*: I was led to believe that they were the same person. 

VB: Oh, they are. In a sense. You see, Scythe Curie has been and has been seen as many things. Apprentice and leader, infamous and simply famous, enigma and open book. However, Susan Bauer has only ever been two things: a little girl with a conscience, and my favorite granddaughter. 

BT: You sound like you have a lot to say about her. 

VB: She deserves more notice than she has ever been given. You see, if you had asked Susan Bauer, countless years ago, she would have told you that she knew everything there was to know about consequences. She would have told you that they were punishments for wrongful actions and therefore she never needed to fear them. And she’d have told you that consequences were always justified. She’d have been wrong on all three counts, lessons that she appears to have learned all too late. 

BT: I’m beginning to see what drove her to become the Scythe Curie we all know today. 

VB: You don’t, not really, and you couldn’t without being there. No matter what name she was known as, Susan was a force of nature that changed every life around her for the better. Perhaps the best example of this came years ago, in times I can scarcely remember. Susan was a teenager, I’ve forgotten what year. She hadn’t yet gotten mixed up in the scythedom though. Have you ever set back your age?

BT: No. 

VB: Then you weren’t there, in those early days. It isn’t an experience that can be recreated. Everyone was just a little bit corrupt and just a little bit scared. Police officers, however, were among the worst. 

BT: Police officers?

VB: They were something like the Nimbus officers without being beholden to the Thunderhead. Instead, they were beholden only to themselves and that made them dangerous. Trying to avoid them was a potentially deadly game of chess- both sides knew the moves, it was down to which side could execute them better. One common move, for those brave enough, was to step between the police officer and the victim and film them. However, this was meant for people older, stronger, more than a small little girl who spoke too angrily. Not that it was enough to stop Susan. 

BT: What happened?

VB: Hush. Let me tell the story. You see, I was with her when it happened. We’d been doing… something… and we’d come across a police officer cornering a girl not much older than Susan herself. One second, I’m a bit hazy on the details.

VB: I believe the police officer was asking about the girl’s parents, it was a bit hard to see. However, she was clearly uncomfortable and was constantly asking to leave. The officer, instead, moved closer and asked louder. Susan was, as always, incapable of staying away from a misdeed. I remember telling her to stay put, that I’d take care of it, but she rushed out of my hold and towards the scene. She started recording the disruption and asked loudly what the girl had done to warrant such treatment. The officer did not have a very good answer, instead gesturing and muttering something about how she was “obstructing justice” or “if she would just cooperate, we could have avoided all of this”

BT: What? That’s… ridiculous. Why didn't the Thunderhead discipline them?

VB: The Thunderhead had very little power back then, now let me get back to the story, please. Anyway, Susan, obviously, was unimpressed. She told the officer that unless the poor girl was a suspect in a murder- because that was still a thing in those barbaric days- he would need to leave and this was not, in fact, an emergency. Alone, this may not have done much. However, I loudly agreed with her, and soon other people chimed in as well. Perhaps the officer could have handled being chastised by a young woman, but he could not handle being chastised by a young woman with every other man there agreeing with Susan. He slunk away, and the recording went viral. 

BT: Was Susan well known then??

VB: Oh, not really. You see, her face was not in the recording, merely her voice, and few people cared just who had called the corrupt officer out. It was merely important that someone did. Within a few months, the officer was sacked, and police power had been reduced vastly. Susan was not the first loud voice in the debate or the most critical one, but she was unable to resist being one of them. Even back then, there was no conflict that she did not have an opinion on, although perhaps Susan was much more careless with her beliefs than Scythe Curie had become. 

BT: I can see how she ended up the Grand Dame of Death.

VB: Hush. In another world, that moment could have ended very differently. Susan could have been in danger or alienated or ineffective. However, in this world, she was a girl beginning to see the world around her and its bloodiness. She did the right thing and was rewarded with other right decisions. It was experiences like those, surrounded with the support of other righteous people, that set Susan up for the mistakes of Honorable Scythe Marie Curie. She had never been ineffective, had never seen how it could be a blessing in disguise. Oh no, Susan acted on her conscience, and that was a rare thing. Perhaps that's why, through all these years, no one had the heart to teach her the consequences of good decisions.

BT: That’s quite a story. Susan was quite a girl. 

VB: And she may have matured into a different woman, but she stayed just as vibrant. Her fate was ill-deserved, an unjust consequence for someone who was once the fiercest proponent of justice this world has had. Consequences are coming for Rowan Damisch. 

VB *definitively, as if a weight has been lifted from her*: Thank you, for letting me share an old story. Feel free to take some more cookies, and I hope you got all the material you needed. 

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Language, smut, possibly triggering for people with eating-disorders.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Reader is supposed to be recovering, but Marcus makes it difficult after discovering her powers have certain... advantageous uses.

Chapter 19

  Marcus came back after lunch, to find you in Amaire’s capable hands, as they supported your sides while you went for a small walk around the bed.   You’d steadily felt stronger the longer you were awake, and the more you’d eaten. You’d already gone through three breakfasts and a lunch, and you were almost getting hungry again. Healing people was apparently vastly energy-consuming.

  “Hey, Amanda, I’ll take that side for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  The twin to your right stepped away as Marcus took her place, placing his strong hands around your waist and under your arm.

  What the actual fuck?

  “No way! There is no way you can actually tell them apart; you just said a name and went to whichever side became available.”

  They all laughed at your shocked expression, and you felt so warmed and relaxed seeing Marcus smile with true joy again. How long ago had it even been since you saw that?

  “If that was true, do you really think I’d ever own up to it?”

  “Just get me back to the bed, before I start chewing on you.”

  “You’re hungry again?”

  Claire, presumably, almost coughed out, staring at you incredulously.

  “Um… maybe. A little.”

  “Unbelievable. How much is that now?”

  She was talking to Amanda, whom had moved over to the desk to go over your chart for the day.

  “After your last meal you’re up to… 8000 calories in the last 3,5 hours.”

  Marcus chuckled heartily.

  “Just another Tuesday then.”

  “Hey, I do not eat that much ordinarily.”

  “Close enough.”

  You’d reached the side of the bed at that point, and you sat down slowly, before scooting further up the mattress and pulling your legs up. Marcus tucked the covers over your lower half and then sat down next to you, facing you.

  “So, the inquiry went well. I don’t think they’re aiming to punish you for your actions, so much as try and make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “It won’t. I feel horrible about it.”

  “They showed me the security-footage. I had no idea you could fight like that? Mitch and Gavin are big guys, but you took them down with one and two moves.”

  “During my rehab, when I asked for more physical exercises, I asked my trainer if he could show me some self-defence. He was all too happy to, and we ended up sparring a little bit almost every day. I’m not saying I’m a trained fighter, but I can pull some moves if I have to.”

  “I noticed. And I have to say I like it.”

  “Wait, is it actually Tuesday today, or were you just playing?”

  “It’s Friday. Why?”

  “I just realised I had no idea which day it is. Why am I always such a mess?”

  “Hey, you’re not a mess. Shit just keeps happening to you.”

  You looked down at your right hand, and the tendrils of melted skin across your palm, and Marcus’ energy shifted.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask you about that, because they told me that those are electrical burns. Did I do that to you?”

  “No. That fucking cage did. If I’d touched Lavagirl’s cage I would’ve burned from heat instead. But that’s what I meant when I said that your power seemed to recognise me, because later, when I was… projecting… or, whatever, I could feel your current in the frame of that cage without touching it, and it was like it welcomed me. Like it wanted me to touch you.”

  He smiled a little sheepishly.

  “I always want you to touch me.”

  You smiled back and tried not to show just how much that excited you. With your left hand, you reached for his cheek and caressed it softly. He closed his eyes and hummed a little, somewhere deep in his throat. You loved that sound.   Was there anything about this man that you didn’t love?   You felt that strange and still unfamiliar feeling somewhere in your chest and gut. It crept through you until it was in your fingertips. And then it was in Marcus’ skin.   You were so focused and amazed at what was happening, that you forgot to breathe.   You let your hand fall away from him, and you could still feel him in your fingertips. Tracing his cheekbone, his temple, brushing over his brow and down the length of his nose. And he just sat there, eyes closed and clearly having no idea that your hand had actually physically left him, as you could see him react to your ‘touch’.   You drew a jagged breath, and his eyes shot open, wondering what was wrong. You watched his expression change a multitude of times as he took in what he could still feel in his face, and your hand now by your own shoulder, nowhere near him.

  “How are you doing that, hermosa?”

  “I don’t know. But I can feel you too.”

  He glanced over at Amaire, who were both by the desk then.

  “Could you guys give us a minute?”

  “Yep, gotta get some more food for this bear anyway.”

  They walked out together, and you scowled a little at the food-joke. It wasn’t like you had any control over your current insatiable hunger, but you were also being overly sensitive about it, because you felt strangely vulnerable after discovering your powers.   You forgot all about that, though, as soon as the doors closed behind them, because Marcus’ lips were suddenly attached to yours, devouring you like he was starving too. Just not for food.   You heated in an instant, grabbing at him and pulling him down on top of you, while he searched blindly for the bed-controls to lower the head-section.   After you’d already relieved him of his shirt, he found them, and once you were flat, you reached down towards his belt, while he pulled your gown up and stroked you, moaning at how you were already gushing for him.   You bucked into his hand, needing more, needing him to fill you.   He could feel your need, on top of his own and it drove him wild, kicking his shoes off and only just refraining from tearing his own pants to shreds, in his desperation to get rid of them.   Your gown wasn’t so lucky.   Knowing the strength of your desire would already have you clenching internally, he took a few breaths before he began to push into you. And as he did, both of you trembling with the sensation, his current washed off of him and into you, through every inch of your bodies that was touching each other.   And your own power responded.   You had no idea what was happening or how, and you couldn’t have stopped it if you’d wanted to. But, also, you really didn’t want to.   You allowed this new sense to explore him, letting your arms and hands reach around his back and shoulders, holding him to you, while your ghost hands (for lack of a better description) found their way to his ass and pushed him down harder into you.

  “…ah, querida… I can feel you…”

  He was gasping for air with the force of his pleasure, throwing his head back as you ghosted over the backs of his thighs, massaging them as they strained to push him deeper inside you. His current increased and all the machinery started going haywire, including the bed. He quickly short-circuited it, to keep it from disturbing you, and it crashed down to its bottom setting.   You took the opportunity to kiss his neck as his head was back, and then nibbling his collarbone. He grabbed your hair and gently pulled your head back so that he could kiss you, but he almost immediately broke it again when you realised that you weren’t limited to letting him feel just your hands.   He growled and panted and growled again as you allowed him to feel exactly what his cock was making you feel inside.   It was more than he could take, and he drove his pelvis into yours with as much force as he could muster with the limited movements that your internal musculature allowed. His hands grabbed your ass and lifted you up onto the front of his thighs as he drove into you one final time before he actually screamed out his climax, and every piece of metal in the room was thrown against the walls. Even the bed-frame crumbled underneath you.   Feeling him spill into you was all it took to bring you over with him, and you curled in on yourself as your arms lost their grip around him and you grabbed the mattress instead. But your power was still active, and you could still feel him on your skin as though every inch of him was somehow in contact with you.   And judging by his reaction to your orgasm, he could still feel you too.   You both collapsed a minute later, when the waves finally ebbed out, and you were completely spent.   Panting and shaking with adrenaline you just held each other for a long while.   It wasn’t until you started feeling cold as the sweat cooled your skin, that you broke the silence.

  “I… think we broke some things…”

  “…I’ll pay for it. Happily.”

  He grumbled his answer into the pillow that he’d crashed into over your shoulder, but then you shivered, and he reluctantly rose to his elbows.

  “Is it terrible of me that I’m a bit proud of the fact that your arms are shaking right now?”

  He smiled widely, and kissed you deeply before answering.

  “Nothing about you is terrible. I love that you can reduce me to a trembling mess, just as much as I love that I can do the same to you.”

  You smiled back, but then frowned when he pulled out of you. He noticed.

  “Wow. I have never known a woman who loves to have a guy inside her as much as you do. It’s a constant source of wonder for me.”

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t used to. That honour befalls only you.”

  “Oh, that does please me. A lot.”

  He kissed you again, but then jumped off the bed and started gathering his clothes. You pouted as you watched him, suddenly feeling freezing and alone. Then you grabbed the covers and pulled them up to your nose before turning on your side and curling up to warm yourself.

  “Shit… did you happen to see where I threw my left shoe?”

  “Knowing you – probably down a staircase.”

  “Are you… pouting right now?”

  “I’m cold. The bed suddenly isn’t very warm anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, mi amor, but if I’d stayed there any longer, I would’ve had to go again. And with the twins probably on their way back with the food by now, I’d rather not be caught with my pants down.”

  “I’m pretty sure they heard you, anyway.”

  He hesitated.

  “I wasn’t that loud… was I?”

  “Honey, I think the whole building might have heard you.”

  At that moment, the bear in your stomach woke up, and she was loud too.

  “Marcus. Don’t even start.”

  “I was just gonna say that apparently I have some competition in the noise department.”

  You didn’t say anything, and instead reached a ghost hand towards him, and tried to pinch his ass. It was harder the further away he was.

  “Ow! What the hell? Did you just…?”

  “Just practicing.”

  If he was about to try and get you back, he didn’t get the chance, as the doors opened and Amaire walked in, holding four trays of food.   Your stomach growled again, even louder, and Marcus just laughed.

  “Please… please tell me you brought all of that, just for her?”

  “Well, let me put it this way: judging by the sounds earlier, someone seems to have depleted what energy-reserves we’d been able to restore. So, now we have to start over.”

  He sobered up instantly.

  “That was not my intent.”

  “Mhm. And… I suppose all of this ruined equipment wasn’t either?”

  “Eh… sorry. We had a bit of an overload.”

  “You don’t say.”

  He looked at you with a playful smile, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. God, you loved this man.

  “You should probably get back to Missy, school’s out in an hour.”

  “Yeah. But, she’ll wanna see you, so we’ll come by later.”

  Amaire cut in, shooting a warning glare at Marcus.

  “No more sex.”

  He froze, and blushed.

  “I’m bringing Missy… of-of course not… I’m not gonna…”

  “I’m not talking about later today, Marcus, I’m talking about tomorrow, and the next day. Until she’s been restored to full strength – you don’t touch her. Nurse’s orders. Got it?”

  He looked a little sad, and you knew exactly how he felt. You’d just discovered this new and exciting thing, and now you couldn’t explore it. But Amaire was right. Considering how little you understood about your powers, it was irresponsible to play around with it to that degree. Even if you wouldn’t hurt each other, the current state of the med-chamber was proof enough that you could easily hurt someone else.

  “We’ll behave. We promise. Right, honey?”

  “Yeah.”

  He came over to kiss you goodbye for now, and as his lips left yours, you let the ghost of them linger on his as he walked out of the room. But as soon as he disappeared from sight, you lost the connection.

  “What is wrong with you, girl?”

  You startled a little at Amaire’s sharp tone.

  “What?”

  “I get that you love him, like crazy, but you just woke up from another coma, you’ve barely even begun to restore your energy-reserves. Honey, don’t you see that it’s dangerous for you to do those kinds of things right now?”

  “Yeah, I do. But I can’t help it. When he touches me… I’ve never been able to control what that does to me. The first time we kissed; I attacked him. Like, literally. And if he doesn’t touch me, it fucking kills me. And now, with what my powers allow me to do… I wish I could describe it in a way that someone else could understand, but I can’t. It’s beyond words.”

  She sighed and looked at her sister, who just shrugged.

  “In that case, I guess we’ll have to get the geniuses working on developing some form of nutritional supplement for you, to keep your energy up, without you having to eat for ten people in every sitting.”

  With that, she put the first tray on your lap, and your stomach growled again. You emptied every plate and finished every crumb from all four trays, in less than half an hour.

  Damned it. You were still hungry. Where the fuck did it all go?!!

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary​ @allmyspideys​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts​ @computeringturtle

[cinebration]

Turmoil (Qui-Gon Jinn x gender neutral!Reader) [One-shot]

Happy Revenge of the Fifth! (And belated May the 4th!)

This is garbage, but whatever.

Premise: You are Qui-Gon Jinn’s first padawan, but unbeknownst to him, inner turmoil and dark forces plague you.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: padawanlost

“I think you’re ready for the Trials.”

Instead of exulting, your heart faltered. Nodding, you kept your face carefully neutral. “I’m glad you think me worthy, Master.”

Qui-Gon Jinn glanced aside at you, a frown tugging on his thin lips. It wasn’t that he sensed your lack of excitement but more that he had expected some reaction in your face.

“You’re allowed a little excitement,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

Smiling thinly, you answered, “I am pleased…but I have had great experiences by your side Qui-Gon. If I’m granted Knighthood…I wouldn’t be your padawan anymore.”

Qui-Gon’s frown deepened, a slight furrow appearing in his stately brow. “You would rather remain a padawan?”

Dangerous waters, you thought. Turning away, you began walking down the long corridor in the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon matched your stride easy, catching up to you with a few long steps.

“Talk to me,” he said in that soft voice of his.

Once I get Knighted, I have a job to do, you wanted to say. Instead, you deflected, “Have we been given an assignment from the Council?”

“Yes. I think you’ll be pleased. It’s on Corellia.”

Home. Your step faltered a fraction. Qui-Gon didn’t fail to notice.

Reaching out for your elbow, he drew you aside into a shadowy corner. “Talk to me,” he pleaded.

He has such a lovely face.

You batted the thought away, quelling the emotion that rose with it. “Corellia is full of memories I hadn’t planned on revisiting.”

“What memories could you have? You were brought before the Council so young.”

“Memories enough.” The tone of your voice prevented further questioning. “When do we leave?”

“Immediately.”

Giving him a curt nod, you strode away. He stared after you, unease tickling the back of his mind.

~~

The ship was manned by a pilot and had no other passengers but you and Qui-Gon. The cockpit, segmented from the rest of the ship by a closed hull-grade door, cut off the pilot from the inner workings of the ship, leaving you and Qui-Gon alone.

Qui-Gon took the opportunity to uncover the source of your reticence. He hadn’t let on how much your sudden silence and lack of excitement was bothering him. He had come to rely on talking to you, sounding out his own thoughts and your reactions to them. You were something of a perfect complement to his teaching style and his personality—something he had sensed only slightly when he met you, along with a streak of defiance very much like his own. It wasn’t until he took you on that he realized just how much you were a match.

To see you withdrawn made him hurt.

“You weren’t so apprehensive the last time we went to Corellia,” he said, sitting beside you.

That’s where the bad memories started. You shrugged and stared down at the floor. “Master, I’m trying to meditate.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s really important that I—”

“Stop.” Qui-Gon placed his hand overs yours, his palm dry but warm, comforting as much as it was inflaming. You tried to withdraw it, but he tightened his grip, unwilling to relinquish you just yet. “Lying doesn’t become you.”

You exhaled heavily through your nose. “Okay, so I wasn’t meditating. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too…distracted.”

“By what?”

You could barely remember the last time you weren’t distracted by the Jedi Knight. Shortly after you became his padawan, you had found yourself slipping down the slippery slope that were feelings, the kind the Jedi Code forbade. It was your fault, really. Nothing had been easy for you. No one had ever been kind to you without wanting something in return.

Except for Qui-Gon, who made you laugh and lifted you up.

Because you’re his padawan, you reminded yourself sharply.

“I’m just as new at this as you are,” he said quietly, drawing your attention, “but I know it’s not good to have secrets between a master and his padawan.”

Your hand curled into a fist beneath his massive palm. There were two secrets, one of them vastly more dangerous than the other. He would, you knew, draw at least one of them out of you.

It just couldn’t be the insidious one.

A thought suddenly struck you. “Will I fail the Trials if I can’t control a certain emotion?”

“It depends on the emotion and the strength of it.”

Perhaps there was hope. If you failed the Trials, your other obligation would be forfeit. Would it mean death? Perhaps. But maybe that was your fate all along.

“The Jedi Code,” Qui-Gon continued, suddenly pensive, “weighs thought over instinct. At least, that’s how the Jedi now interpret it. But the Force guides us through all if we listen to it. Another word for the Force is instinct.”

He smiled in the way he did whenever he dispensed wisdom he had just plucked from the deep well that was his inner world.

Don’t think. Feel.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. His mustache scraped your upper lip not unpleasantly, his lips almost as soft as your own. Blood rushed through your head, blocking out all other sound.

He didn’t react.

Pulling back, you avoided his gaze. If that didn’t get you a failing score for the Trials, you didn’t know what else would. Scrambling to your feet, you fled to one of the berths in the ship.

~~

“I did not select you only to have you fall into useless turmoil,” Darth Malas snapped. She flung back her cloak’s hood, revealing dark eyes in a too-pale face, a network of blue veins threading up the side of her cheek. “Tell me your progress is where it needs to be, at least.”

Upon landing on Corellia, you had, eyes averted, checked in with Qui-Gon to the diplomatic summons hall. After a brief introduction and an assurance that the talks would proceed shortly, you stole away before Qui-Gon could pull you aside.

Meeting the Sith Lord was more of an excuse to put distance between yourself and your master and less of a mandatory check-in, though that was what it was.

“I may be starting the Trials,” you said, hiding the misgiving in your voice. Around the Sith Lord, it wasn’t a requirement to keep one’s emotions in check. In fact, she tended to encourage emotional expression, but you weren’t going to give her more reason to doubt you. Now that you and your master were on Corellia, the Sith Lord could retaliate in any way she saw fit in response to insubordination—including attacking your master.

“Good,” the older woman crowed. “Once you pass, you must get yourself sent to Serenno.”

Anxiety constricting your chest, you asked, “What if I fail?”

Darth Malas fixed you with a piercing stare of her pale-green eyes. “Then you will have been a waste. I don’t like waste.”

“No, of course not,” you mumbled.

“Get back to your master,” the woman sneered, “before he questions your absence.”

“Yes, my lord.”

You ducked out of the woman’s office, appearing to be an ambassador meeting the local dignitary. If the government knew—if Coruscant knew—that a Sith Lord held quite the position of power over a relevant planet, they would lose their minds.

You had half a mind to tell them.

But that would indict me, too, you thought bitterly.

~~

You expected to be escorted to the meeting room for negotiations.

You were steered instead to the ambassadorial quarters, where Qui-Gon Jinn lay in wait.

Stepping into the suite, you crept around the corner, hoping to hide yourself away.

Qui-Gon called your name.

Cringing, you froze and glanced over your shoulder. He stood by the window overlooking the city, leaning casually against the sill. His arms weren’t crossed, but his brow bore deep lines in it.

“Come here,” he ordered.

You dragged your feet, heart pounding with each step. Stopping a bit away, just out of reach, you stared at a spot beside his head, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You laughed explosively despite yourself. “Clearly.”

“We need to discuss this.”

“Are you going to tell the Council?”

The question caught him by surprise. “No. This isn’t their concern.”

You frowned, your turn to be caught off-guard. “It isn’t?”

“This is between us.”

Your throat tightened at the sound of the collective pronoun falling from his lips, so softly spoken that the weight of it dropped into your belly.

“I’ve broken the Code,” you blurted, trying to salvage the situation. “I can’t pass the Trials.”

Qui-Gon pushed himself away from the window, slowly wandered over to you, pensive. “The Council and I disagree on a lot of things. I believe that for a Jedi to be compassionate, they must know love, in whatever form it takes.”

Your frown deepened. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he answered slowly, “that we are both young, and the young can be foolish, but they can be wise, too, on matters the mature have forced themselves to forget.”

His fingertips brushed your face, sending sparks through your skin. You blinked helplessly at him. You still couldn’t understand.

“Pass the Trials,” he murmured, cupping your face in his hands, “so that when we are no longer master and apprentice, we can revisit this issue.”

He pulled you into a warm embrace, dwarfing you with his huge frame. Joy and confusion warred within you as you clutched him back.

When I’m a Knight, we can be together, you thought.

Your stomach fell.

When I’m a Knight, I have work to do.

The pallid face of Darth Malas haunted you.

[mid-nighttiger]

this recs list is brought to you by ‘i read four slow burn fics in a row and then realized i was following more slow burn fics than is probably reasonable.’ at least by definition they must satisfy my craving for longfic? nearly every fic on this list is at least 50k words (or vastly, vastly longer) so uh,,, sorry,, enjoy entirely Too Many Emotions these characters don’t know how to deal with, and as always please heed the tags!

I’ve Served My Time in Hell by SleepingNebula

mature, codywan, 110k words [warnings for violence] -- Few people stand at the end of the world, and it surprises no-one that Obi-Wan is one of them. The galaxy, after all, has never been kind enough to grant him peace. And he certainly isn’t going to get it now; the dead roam the streets, raiders control the town and his ex makes an appearance for the first time in five years. 

[Or, Obi-Wan and Cody meet again after the end of the world, and the Fett family are really scary when one of their own is involved]

We’ll Do This Together by @mageofcole

gen, codywan, 54k words -- It was just supposed to be one night of fun to unwind from a difficult year, one night to let himself be dragged away from raising his younger siblings to have a chance to relax - it wasn't supposed to be anything more than that, he's too busy for it. Between Anakin and Ahsoka, classes, work, and volunteering, Obi-Wan is too busy for anything else. 

A pregnancy was not part of the plan.

Waking Up Dead by @chibiobiwan

teen, quiobi, 45k words -- Obi-wan thought he was supposed to stay alive, watch over Luke, survive until the day the force called him home. Instead he falls through the ice on Illum and finds himself emerging thirty years in the past.

A Mouthful of Ash by @jcrowquill

explicit, obikin, 150k words -- What if Obi-Wan hadn't let Anakin burn on Mustafar? On the run from the newly formed Galactic Empire, Obi-Wan and Anakin must come to terms with the fact that they both still need each other, even if they don't know how to forgive each other for what has happened.

Sigh No More by @edenwolfie

explicit, obianidala, 292k words -- Anakin makes slightly better choices, Obi-Wan is a Mess™ and Padmé deserves none of this. AU from Mustafar onward with liberal manipulation of canon to culminate in some angsty, fluffy, domestic fix-it because we all deserve better.

Equinox by @writegowrite

explicit, obikin, 96k words -- "One impulse from a vernal wood / May teach you more of man, / Of moral evil and of good, / Than all the sages can." - William Wordsworth

During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone.

Our Bodies Safe to Shore by @dharmaavocado

explicit, rexobi, 51k words -- “I beg your pardon,” he repeated for what had to be the fifth time, “but married?”

The coat that had started the whole thing was innocuously hanging on the rack next to the door, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to glare accusingly at it.

“Sorry,” said Rex with an awkward shrug, “but I don’t make the rules.”

In which there is a deal, a coat, and what comes after. (or the selkie au)

do you love me by @gracethescribbler, @skywalking-across-the-galaxy

teen, codywan, 176k words -- In a universe where Mandalore did not become pacifist, where Jango Fett took up the darksaber and the title of Mand'alor and reunited the clans after a last, devastating civil war, there are three Fett children: Cody, Rex, and Boba, with Cody taking up the title as Duke as the eldest. In this same universe, Obi-Wan Kenobi is more involved with his homeworld's politics and government, while still holding a position as a Jedi Knight. Their worlds could not be more different.

When Stewjon reaches out to Mandalore for protection from pirates and other thieves, Mandalore agrees, with one condition: clan ties must be made. A member of Stewjon's government must marry Mandalore's Duke. They choose Obi-Wan Kenobi.

When the Abyss Stares Back at You by l_tales

explicit, obikin, 49k words -- Pausing the holovid, Mace looked from Anakin to Obi-Wan. "This holovid was taken on planet Redoran two days ago."

In the holovid, the golden-eyed Anakin looked at someone outside the camera frame. There was something distinctly hungry and possessive about that gaze. It made a shiver run up Obi-Wan's spine--because he recognized that look. He'd seen Anakin look that way at Senator Amidala.

But it wasn't Senator Amidala who stepped into the camera frame. It wasn't Senator Amidala whom the Sith yanked closer and kissed.

It was Obi-Wan.

[Pre-ROTS. Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to investigate the sighting of a Sith Anakin, who appears to be in a relationship with an older version of Obi-Wan.]

flowers for a ghost by QueenWithABeeThrone

mature, obikin, 42k words -- A little while ago, in a town not far from here, Obi-wan Kenobi was living a peaceful life, running his own bar and not thinking about any past life he had as a Jedi Knight, once upon a time. Then a mute, homeless and miserable Anakin Skywalker, fresh from prison, shows up drenched on his doorstep needing a place to stay.

Anakin Skywalker's had a rough go of it, from being imprisoned to losing his hand to remembering an entire past life. He's only looking for a place to stay the night when he comes to Obi-wan's doorstep. He's not expecting his long-dormant feelings for the man to resurface, especially after a mistake that leads to the two of them being inextricably linked.

Plus, there's a crime lord who's gunning after one of Obi-wan's patrons, so that's a problem too.

ok! now on to the entire reason i was making this list in the first place, which is ‘come suffer with me in WIP land’

Needing/Getting by chapstickaddict

teen, obikin, 42k words [WIP] -- Darth Vader, the strong arm of the Sith, held loyal to his Order since they took he and his mother from slavery in the deserts of Tatooine. Until he became convinced they killed his wife. He abandoned his Order and disappeared in the chaos of the Clone Wars, presumed dead by all sides.

That young Skywalker is known around town as a widower and homesteader; a Nabooian who emigrated to avoid the trade blockade; a father of overly-energetic twins and warding a Togruta war orphan; a decent mechanic if your farm equipment or maintenance droid is acting up.

Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet?

Conceal Me What I Am by @himboskywalker

explicit, obikin, 47k words [WIP] -- Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front. An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage, between a Jedi Knight and Republican Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi, for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims.

But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be.

The Rule of Two by @himboskywalker

explicit, obikin, 15k words [WIP] -- Two sons of suns / in one soul bound. / Two risen sons / when power crowned / in light of day / casts dark away.

Anakin Skywalker and his mother are saved from slavery by Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi and brought to the Jedi Temple to live in peace and sanctuary. Anakin swears to train as a knight and follow in the footsteps of his saviors and hopes to one day train with the man he calls hero. But padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi earns the soulmark that brands him as half of the dyad of an ancient prophecy and Anakin lives in fear of forever being cast in the shadow of the other foretold chosen one.

Come Down from Your Holy Mountain by @cryptid-coalition

mature, obikin, 89k words [WIP] -- In the wake of Palpatine's ascent to Galactic Emperor, what remains of the Jedi are left to gather their pieces. In the Underworld of Coruscant, a small group remounts and tries keeping faith.

Anakin and Obi-Wan just try not to hate each other.

Side-Slip by @skyywalkerfen

mature, quiobi, 58k words [series, WIP] --  After death, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are returned to the past for another chance at it all, but it's not exactly the past it used to be.

Ghost of Nothing by @bluemaskedkarma

mature, quiobi, 69k words [WIP] -- The Force, for some reason, has decided that Obi-Wan needs to have his dead Master back in his life. Funny thing? Last thing Qui-Gon remembers is being killed by Maul on Naboo and it's the sixth year of the Clone Wars for Obi-Wan. Anakin is overjoyed, Ahsoka LOVES her great-grandmaster, and Obi-Wan is eying that airlock like it might just be the answer to everything wrong in his life.

all i ask of you by @gracethescribbler, @skywalking-across-the-galaxy

teen, rexsoka, 290k words [series, WIP] -- a rewrite of the Hunger Games trilogy with the cast of the Clone Wars. will be four fics: the three main novels and a fic of "behind the scenes" moments

The Other Side of Paradise by @unpheenix

explicit, obikin, 17k words [WIP] -- Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Sith Lord and the adopted son of Separatist leader Count Dooku. After being forced to attend a party hosted by Mina Bonteri, Obi-Wan meets Senator Anakin Skywalker, who has crossed enemy lines to meet with his old friend. Obi-Wan suspects that Anakin isn't who he appears to be.

Jate’kara by @atelier-dayz

teen, jangobi, 38k words [WIP] --  It’s just his kriffing luck that the one time he decides to take a break planetside, everything goes to bantha shit. Jango happens to be on Naboo when the Trade Federation decides to invade. From there, his quiet life as a bounty hunter goes sideways. A TPM AU.

Adrift and Entangled by WhiteMoose

mature, obikin, 91k words [WIP] -- After the Hardeen operation, emotions are raw. But before anything can be fully sorted out, the boys are sent to Christophsis for their next mission. Things don’t go as planned, and they find themselves alone in an unknown system with no hyperspace capabilities and no effective means of communication.

[Or: Obi-Wan sticks up for Anakin. Anakin cooks Obi-Wan’s favorite meal. Banter. Feelings. More banter. Nightmares. Confessions. A coma. An old enemy. Some torture. More feelings. More banter. Smut with feeling. A happy ending.]

[tsunmercenary]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸

The ticking of the clock was deafening in this silence. Gloved fingers tapped endlessly at the steel of her sleeves along with the rhythm of the clock’s ticking. Her feet shifted periodically to rest atop the other as they found no refuge from the cold floor beneath. Her toes curled and eyes wandered around the waiting room, anxious for the upcoming interview. The Hoshidan noble faced down the likes of bandits, enemy soldiers, and the likes of her father’s hideous abomination of a form, yet a simple interview seemingly intimidated her. Perhaps she should’ve allowed her older brother to accompany her like he asked, yet Corrin was adamant in proving she was adult enough to go alone.  It wasn’t that she lacked the maturity, yet, she lacked the social skills to uphold her confidence in front of an audience. What if she answered a question wrong? What if they’re overly strict? 

“Corrin?” The voice of the interviewer called out, the sound snapping her out of whatever inner dilemma she was griping with. Quick to not keep them waiting, she stood to her feet, brushing her royal blue cape backwards, before walking to greet them. Corrin’s gloved hand extended out to meet the interviewer’s, who met her’s halfway. 

“Right this way, please.” 

The interviewer seemed polite enough, which eased most of her fears, though the anxious anticipation of what questions would be asked of her still remained in full. After being led down the hall, Corrin entered the office of the interviewer. The male gestured her to sit across from his desk, which she obliged. Lifting the ends of her cape to tuck them back, she took her seat, a soft breath exhaling from her lips. 

Slipping glasses upon his face and a pen in one hand, the other holding the clipboard, the interviewer cleared his throat, looking to the princess. Surely he could tell how nervous she was, considering her slightly stiff posture. He simply offered a soft chuckle before showing a reassuring smile across his lips, his voice coming out relaxed, “Just breathe. I’m only going to ask you a few questions. Just be truthful, don’t overthink, and let it flow. Alright?” 

“Yes, I can do that. Apologies for being so stiff, I’ve never done an interview before.” She offered up her own laugh, which shook a bit as it came out. 

“Not a problem at all. Interview anxiousness is more common than you think.” 

Those words offered up a bit more relief to the princess, allowing her to finally settle into her chair. As they loosened, her muscles lightly ached due to being tensed for so long. 

“What has led you to where you are today?” 

Her hands came together, fingers interlocking with one another as she pondered the first question presented. “Right, my past is a bit..complicated I should say. As a young girl, I was raised within my native kingdom, Hoshido. Hoshido is a beautiful land, filled with blossom trees, bright green grass as far as the sea, and a breeze that always felt so warm across my face, no matter the season. There, I was raised by a beautiful woman, who’s voice could lull any rampaging dragon to sleep.. and a man who’s sword held just as much weight as his wisdom and kindness. At least, that is what I was told.” 

She smiled just a bit, the happier memories flooding her mind with warmth until it began to lower and fade into that of darkness. “The neighboring kingdom of Nohr often held conflict against Hoshido, so much so that war seemed inevitable. That was, until my father agreed on a peace treaty with King Garson himself. He set out with myself to meet him at the border. Being an innocent child, naive to the criticalness of the situation, I held my father’s hand, just like I did time and time again. Who knew it’d be the last.. Neither of us could’ve predicted what was to come next.” 

Crimson Irises lowered to the table as vague memories began to come rushing back like a raging tidal wave. The sounds of arrows piercing flesh and the screams of her father echoed out as if he stood mere meters away from her chair. What was once happy, warm-felt memories, now cooled into dark and cold nightmares, which swallowed them up within shadows. It was as if her thoughts manifested into a dark entity, gripping onto her wrist with malicious intensity. Corrin could hear the cries of her younger self, being dragged away from her father’s dying corpse by a monster shrouded in darkness. Slightly, yellow stained teeth and predatory eyes stared down at her. It took another few, agonizing moments to finally snap from her thoughts, shaking her hand free of what she now realized to be her own grasp. Her hand seemingly tightened with anxiety and fear from reliving that moment. So much so that they shook upon release. 

The interviewer was about to voice his concern, yet she shook her head in dismissal. 

“Sorry.. it’s quite the harsh memory.. scary even. After I was taken, I was raised in Nohr for about ten years. The land of Nohr was vastly and terrifyingly different from what I was used to. Dead trees that seemed like ragged, wilted hands rising from the dirt to grasp whatever was in sight. It was always cloudy, and dark, with a bit of rain. I spent just about all of my time there within a tower, training to become a knight to show my worth to the king.. to my “father.” Looking back, I believe I was nothing more than a trophy, flaunted as a slap in the face to Hoshido.” 

Her eyes wandered up towards the male, widening upon seeing his expression. He looked intently, as if interested. His eyes didn’t seem dull from boredom, but alert. Though, she worried she was taking too long to finish.

She shook her head once more, brushing a strand of silver hair back and behind her ear, “I’m going on far too long, I should wrap up. Uhm, sorry sorry, it’s really long-“

“No no! There’s no rush, lady Corrin, please continue. Take your time.” The interviewer reassured. 

Corrin took a breath to recompose herself, “Despite being so miserable in Nohr, I had my own family there. Siblings that cared for me, served as the somewhat parental figures that I lacked. War broke out between the two kingdoms and when it came down to choosing sides, I went back to my homeland, to fight along side my true siblings.” 

There was a moment of silence between the two as her face contorted a bit, trying ever so desperately to hold in her emotions. Despite her best efforts, however, she couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by grief. When she finally did speak, her voice was higher pitched and slightly strained. 

“It broke my heart to break away from siblings that truly loved me in Nohr and I loved them as well..” A tear gently fell down her cheek, leaving a trail as it traveled downward to finally fall from her face. “I’ve physically been with them longer than anyone. I’ve played with them, cried with them, they were damn near my family as well but I couldn’t just stand by and allow Nohr to mercilessly attack and destroy a kingdom that only wanted peace! Leaving them was the hardest decision of my life. And to see the look of heartbreak, betrayal, and eventually anger upon their faces have truly haunted me ever since.” 

The interviewer kindly offered some tissue, which the princess gratefully took in hand, wiping her tears. When she felt she could continue again, she continued,

“ After what felt like an eternity of war, I’m here now after it finally reached its end. It was my brother’s idea in sending me here to sort of recover and cope from the horrors of war without having to be constantly reminded of the blood I’ve shed myself. Some time away from the kingdom would be good for my mental and I can agree. I believe I should lend my strength and support to Fodlan. Perhaps through my deeds, I can heal.”

The interviewer nodded, writing down notes before moving to the next question.  

“What are your strengths and weaknesses?” 

“Ah, my strengths are definitely my sword fighting skills. I was trained ever since I was about ten years old, after arriving in Nohr. I’m rather efficient with that and I tend to use my draconic form to aid in battle as well. Though, my most notable strength has to be my motivation in uniting everyone. Keeping all safe and together. I’ve seen what war brings and the last thing I want is for it or needless violence to erupt again. Unfortunately, it serves as a double edged sword.. my pacifist ways have endangered lives before and I’ve had to gripe with that. I’ve been told that I’m over-trusting at times. Although it’s gotten better and I’ve developed into that of a more defensive fighter upon the confrontation of any threat, I’m not the one you should consider sending first into battle if it’s for.. preemptive measures.” 

 “Alright,” the interviewer breathed, his pen lowering down to the last question, tapping it with the tip. 

“If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?” 

This question stomped her, her eyes lowering to the table. She pondered for a minute or two, eyes shifting from the table, down to her hands, which were once again, enclosed within one another. Finally, with a deep breath, she looked to the interviewer before speaking, “None. If there were to be a story written about me, I’d opt to not be apart of it or even attend.” 

This took the interviewer by surprise. He would imagine if someone weren’t to participate in a performance of their life, at least they would attend.

 “You wouldn’t attend at all?” 

She merely shook her head, her smile returning as she laughed, a bit embarrassed that she bewildered the interview in such a way. 

“I mean, I’d be flattered, don’t get me wrong. But I wouldn’t want to attend. I’ve made so many mistakes, made turns where if I took another route, others would still be alive. Reliving such events wouldn’t bode well with me, honestly. I’m not someone who should be honored in anyway, shape, or form. I can’t change the path I’ve taken, but I can at least strive to look forward with optimism and work to make life better.. for everyone. But, I’d happily attend another’s, especially if they asked.”

The interviewer wrote his last notes down before standing to his feet, quickly followed by Corrin. He extended a hand out with a smile, Corrin meeting his half-way and shaking it. 

“I believe we’re done. I’ll contact you on your application process, lady Corrin. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“It was a pleasure to speak with you, and I thank you for your consideration. I truly am honored to have such an opportunity.”  

@theofficersacademy

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hellooo! What's your opinion on He tian and Jian Yi friendship from the start till now? And Mo and Zhang friendship from start till now? Also, I loveee your 'the cycle of the sunflower' fanfic!♥️

Good evening, anon-san, sorry it took me this long to answer You had interesting and quite broad questions but first things first: I’m happy to hear you enjoyed my fic so much, and thank you very much for letting me know! I was actually entertaining some tentative ideas for a sequel today while procrastinating. But you know, not that I will ever write it.

“What's your opinion on He tian and Jian Yi friendship from the start till now?”

Tl;dr: I was pretty annoyed by He Tian at first when he was trying to get close to Jian Yi but these days I quite like their friendship. I especially enjoy those little heart-to-hearts they have sometimes.

You gave me quite a long timeline, and I had to go all the way back to chapter 60 when HT was apparently featured for the first time:

That panel doesn’t give us a lot to go on, and I’m sure most of us didn’t even pay that much mind to the random black-haired guy. I know I didn’t. But in retrospect, it could be interesting to wonder if OX’s intention was to make a fleshed-out character out of that random black-haired kid at that point already.

After his first appearance, it takes about 40 chapters before we see HT again (ch. 102):

This time their interaction seems different, like it has more meaning and HT is not just a random passer-by teasing him a bit. JY is upset and conflicted after giving ZZX the confession letter entrusted to him by Xiao Hui. He doesn’t tell HT what’s wrong but he’s obviously down, and HT seems to attempt to lighten the mood, perhaps even comfort him a bit. It’s hard to say how serious he’s being. What’s interesting is that he’s again patting JY’s head, but this time it doesn’t have the same teasing vibe.

After that chapter HT started to pop up more often and increasingly annoy me. Before long, I was fully in the “okay, buddy, you need to go be somewhere else” mood. Whenever he spotted JY’s mop of blond hair in the crowd he annoyingly stuck to him and draped his arm around his shoulders like they were the bestests friends.

What annoyed me the most, though, was that it was hard to say why he was acting so buddy buddy. One thing that struck me about their friendship from the beginning was that it seemed rather one-sided. It was HT who seemed to initiate hanging out and being turned down time after time. I didn’t know much of anything about HT, so at first, it all came across as him being romantically interested in JY. And I couldn’t have hated anything else more. I was fully invested in Zhanyi and worried the already slow pace was going to be hindered by some cliched love triangle. The only thing I was happy about was that JY didn’t have any interest whatsoever in HT.

For quite a long time, I didn’t really question or go back to the idea of HT being interested in JY in a romantic sense. I just thought his interest shifted to MGS. Now, after learning about HT’s past, goals and priorities, those early chapters tell a different story to me. 

Rather than being in love with JY, I think HT sought him out for two reasons.

First of all, we all know this kid is so lonely it hurts to watch but making genuine friends isn’t a simple matter in his situation. I already talked about this in one of my earlier posts, but the bottom line is, HT isn’t like his classmates. He was born and raised in a vastly different world but can’t tell anyone about it.

It’s almost like he’s living a double life. In front of his classmates and fangirls, he appears easy-going, cool, and carefree, but in the shadows, he looks much more intimidating and colder. Both of those sides are a part of him, but no one knows about his dark, shadow side. Not only that, but HT himself wants to get rid of his other side and deny it. If anyone learned about it, he’d risk putting them in harm’s way but at the same time, he craves the “normal”; acting his age. If he was being careful, maybe he could try and have friends even if he couldn’t show them all of himself.

However, I think HT also had another objective to get close to JY. I think he knows more about JY’s family than JY himself and was low key keeping an eye on him. I’m sure the surname “Jian” means something to him if She Li can recognize it as well (ch. 117):

It’s unclear to us how much he knows about He Cheng’s business with Mr. Jian, but I’m sure he’s guessed by now that dirty underworld wants something to do with one of his friends. He seemed to be in the know enough to rush over when HC was trying to get JY for the first time (ch. 166) and later warned his brother to not “get any ideas” (ch. 229). He’s probably pieced together that they’re trying to get to JY but since there’s nothing much he can do to stop that he’s just going to have to follow him. It’s still better than to let him get pulled into the lion’s nest alone. If that means he has to go all the way to the doorsteps of his own family, then so be it.

What I probably love the most about HT and JY’s friendship are those little heart-to-hearts they started having. The borderline philosophical nature of them reveals interesting new sides to HT’s character especially. I think JY was the first one who formed a deeper connection with HT and is still the only one who ponders those kinds of life-sized questions with him.

Chapter 133 is my favorite chapter about the deeper side of their friendship. Earlier JY had asked HT what people are living for, and HT’s half-serious answer was “probably so that they can do the things they want~”. He hadn’t meant it to actually stick with JY, not to mention prepared for JY to get back to the topic and ask something seemingly simple but rather personal from him later on (ch. 133):

Not only do I think that no one had seriously asked HT that before but that question also invited HT to open up. Though, all JY got out of him was:

Even in all its vagueness, it was the first time HT had implied being from a different world to someone who’s not a part of it, at least not knowingly. And that’s a quite sad line if you think about it. The things HT wanted to do in life were no doubt vastly different from JY and most kids of his age. He didn’t want to grow up to a man who would hurt others for a living. He wanted to belong in the world of JY and ZZX. He wanted to protect his friends. He wanted to do good and rid himself of his past that way. He wanted his brother to want to be like him, too. He wanted the puppy and wake up one morning to a normal family and life and it’s all been just a long nightmare. 

All of that remains unspoken and is replaced by silence, instead. HT just pats JY’s head while they stand in the rain and tells him to go to ZZX already; he hadn’t skipped just to sit around with HT, after all. JY wants to go but is also a bit worried about leaving HT like that. When he asks, “what about you?”, HT goes back to teasing him. Before leaving, though, JY gives him a little side-smile that warms my heart. That smile somehow has an understanding undertone to it, and he’s cursing HT almost affectionally.

They had a moment, and no one can convince me otherwise. It was as if JY got a feeling that maybe there was more to HT than what appeared.

And that’s how I see them now; JY was probably the first and closest thing HT could call a friend and it’s become more than just looking after him for HT. JY’s genuine, curious, and obliviously frank nature brings out certain kind of depth and platonic, big brother kind of affection in HT. It also seems JY was the first person to be cool with HT’s “dark” side and not think any less of him.

“And Mo and Zhang friendship from start till now?”

Tl;dr: They’re a bit odd together but I really like their little bonding moments. They’re weirdly similar but in different ways. Mo Guan Shan definitely needs and deserves a level-headed and no-bullshit friend like Zhan Zheng Xi.

This friendship certainly had a rough start (ch. 126):

There’s one thing I’ve always wondered about that fight: Was ZZX actually getting the upper hand? I’m hesitant to say ZZX is a better fighter than MGS, but he still seemed stronger. Did MGS also notice he was about to lose (in front of his posse, no less) and picked up the rock which was somewhat of a dirty move? Did ZZX get strength and courage from the need to protect JY? You know, when you think about something that matters to you and get a mental/physical boost to your drive that takes even you by surprise a little? He didn’t have a delinquent reputation like MGS had but if he lost this fight JY could be in trouble and he had vowed to protect him since they were little kids.

Well, either way, I was surprised how easily ZZX let the thing go when he and MGS came face to face again. He suggested an act of revenge but was actually the only one who wasn’t serious about twisting MGS’s balls in the end. Not only that but he seemed to even think MGS wasn’t that evil (ch. 150):

If I had been ZZX, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to have anything to do with MGS after that. It’s still a bit unclear to me why ZZX suddenly thought like that, but maybe that’s just how his mind works. He doesn’t dwell or hold grudges, perhaps he finds that even a little childish.

He certainly started to consider MGS his friend and wanted to genuinely help him when the whole She Li situation unraveled and was frustrated when it looked like they couldn’t do anything (ch. 184):

Overall, compared to HT and JY, ZZX was a different kind of friend for MGS. HT would raise hell and go up against anyone who dared to mess with him. JY didn’t lack enthusiasm and oblivious courage to stand up for him and loudly demand justice. To both of them, MGS reacted with varying degrees of annoyance.

ZZX, on the other hand, was silent, calm and mature. He doesn’t talk bad about people behind their backs and when he’s done with something, he’s done with it. He’s in touch with himself and grounded. But it seems MGS wasn’t used to having people like that around. The way ZZX wasn’t bothered by being alone with him made him uncomfortable (ch. 248):

MGS is always half-expecting people to negatively react to him somehow; avoid making eye contact, look down on him, and whisper behind his back. When ZZX just stands there in silence and faces him head-on it bothers MGS. He feels awkward because he never apologized for the fight and bashing ZZX in the head. Pulling stuff like that in the heat of the moment could have had serious. long-lasting consequences. He seems to be ready for ZZX to bring it up and hold it over his head, and he’d have the right to do so, too. But it doesn’t look like ZZX is expecting an apology, either. As far as he goes, the matter is over and done with.

Interestingly MGS and ZZX are quite similar deep down but in a different way as weird as that might sound. They’re both very responsible; MGS has had to work and take care of the house from a very young age to support his mother. ZZX is very close with his little sister, he’s always taken care of her and learned the responsibility that way. They both have tsundere characteristics; Others being touchy-feely with them might earn them curses and a couple of punches, but they’re good at taking care of others. ZZX can be quick to lose his temper with JY but also quite tender and reassuring and surprisingly comfortable showing affection. MGS takes a certain kind of pride in cooking for his friends and can’t quite hide his concern for HT if he’s bleeding or having a nightmare. His help is always very practical.

What I love the most about ZZX and MGS’s friendship is that they kind of join forces being the only responsible voices of reason of the bunch. As a huge fan of my precious MGS, watching them bond over cooking warms my heart so much (ch. 289):

I’m so happy MGS has gained such a strong and loyal friend as ZZX. I’m really interested in seeing more of them together.

Thank you for your interesting question, anon-san, and sorry for such a late reply again.

[theincompetentgenius]

Chocolate (Hideyoshi x Reader Fic)

 @pusec: Can I get a short scenario of MC accidentally calling Hideyoshi "mom"? (Ikemen sengoku//not sure if this didn't happen In canon already thought)😂

It’s probably happened before. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she did and we just glazed over it because that’s what we were thinking ourselves. Also, I’m really for the chocolate obsession in this because I’m fasting so I’m REALLY HUNGRY (it makes up almost the entire fic and I realized it was getting out of hand, so I tried to save it at the end. But I doubt that really did anything). Anywho, enjoy this mess and I’m sorry in advance.

Title: Chocolate                                 

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Hideyoshi x Reader                   

Word Count: 1857

If there was one thing I could change about the Sengoku Era, it would be the amount of chocolate that I could buy.

I know the history behind the scarcity of chocolate in Japan, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. Whenever my period comes around, I’m craving a good chocolate bar. If it’s more than 50 degrees, my tongue is ready for some creamy chocolate ice cream. My body has been suffering from chocolate withdrawal: my stomach is always growling, my head overrun with fatigue, and my mouth salivating for that sweet, milky taste. I think people have started to notice because Masamune has been making me a lot more sweets while Hideyoshi bought me the finest candies the other day. Nobunaga even offered me his konpeito. The treats were delicious, but I miss my wonderous chocolate. The only chocolate I’ve had was cacao beans shipped from who-knows-where. Those were disgusting.

So you can imagine my excitement when Hideyoshi told us that shipments of chocolate had arrived at the Japanese trading ports. They would be sending the delicacy to different vendors throughout the country in the upcoming weeks. I screamed so loud that Ieyasu’s ears nearly fell off and Masamune rushed to the meeting. Although I got scolded for my excitement, there was nothing that could ruin my joy. I would be reunited with my love and savior: chocolate.

Every week, I would drag a warlord out in the town to search for chocolate. However, most vendors had no idea what I was talking about and didn’t carry anything that looked like chocolate. One vendor sold me a brown, solid bar that looked like the real deal. It was expensive, but I had to get my hands on it. But the moment I bit into the bar, my tongue recoiled from the taste and my lips nearly fell off my mouth. I gagged. The schemer had sold me a bar of tamarind instead.

However, I haven’t given up on my quest to find the chocolate. Although I took a week-long break, I am back and stronger than ever. Nothing can stop m--

“What are you writing?” Hideyoshi points to my notebook.

I quickly shut the pages of my notebook and stuff it in my bag. If he saw my maniacal writing about chocolate, he’d keep me away from it and turn this whole thing into a Nobunaga-konpeito situation. It would ruin all of my plans.

“Just about how I’m excited to have chocolate. I like to write my feelings,” I give him a sheepish grin.

“That’s really cute, but why chocolate?” He laughs.

“What do you mean, ‘why chocolate?’ “ I ramble about my childhood stories and how chocolate has been a vital part of my life. It guided me through my struggles, brighten my dark days, and was present in all my nostalgic memories. Hideyoshi listened quietly, nodding and laughing throughout my stories.

“If it’s such a big part of your life, then why didn’t you tell me about it? I could have requested some from the traders,” He asked.

“I’ve been so caught with this adjusting to the new life that I almost forgot about it.” This was far from the truth, but I didn’t want to come off as a chocolate addict.

As we walk along the street, I notice the different vendors. Each makes profits from vastly different items. Fruits, weapons, rice, ornaments, and other assortments. Each stall is made out of birch wood, but that’s where the similarities end. One has vines coiling around the wooden columns, another one has splotches of dye on the stall, and the most bizarre of them all is the stall in yellow with green stockings hanging from the top. It is the weirdest combination of colors I have ever seen.

Hideyoshi approaches each vendor whether they have the candy or not. I don’t feel comfortable asking them ever since I got scammed with the tamarind bar. It’s probably for the best since they all give him salutes and offer him all their products at discounted prices and I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to haggle for even half those prices.

We come across the odd yellow-and-green stall that I was watching earlier. Hideyoshi asks the vendor the same set of questions and he shakes his head in the same manner as the ones before him. It’s become a routine. Instinctively, I turn around and walk towards the nearest stall when I hear Hideyoshi’s voice call out to me.

“Where are you going? They have the chocolate!”

I turn around and zoom to the front of the stall. It is impossible for me to confine my excitement in my head. Forgetting that I’m in the Sengoku Era, I begin to interrogate him about the different types of chocolates in his possession. Every time the vendor tries to speak, I cut him off and provide him with my preferences. If it was dark chocolate, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. If it was white chocolate, I wanted a 50% discount because that was fake chocolate. The only bar I would be pleased with was the regular milk chocolate.

In the midst of my babbling, Hideyoshi puts his hand on my shoulder. “I understand you’re excited, but let the man show us what he has.”

The man thanks Hideyoshi and shows him the boxes of chocolate. The vendor doesn’t dare to look at me, worried that I’ll explode with my chocolate facts if I make eye contact with him. Jokes on him because I plan to go home and spend most of my time eating this delicacy.

“Wow, there’s a lot of sugar in these. Almost the same amount as konpeito,” Hideyoshi frowned.

My blood froze. Hideyoshi could not separate me from my beloved soulmate. He’s already a burden on the relationship of Nobunaga and his konpeito, I couldn’t let him do the same thing to me and my chocolate. He’d have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

“Well I need the sugar in my body to keep me energized and functioning,” I snatch the bar from Hideyoshi and give the vendor a thick wad of money. “Take all of it. I want your entire collection of chocolate in return.” 

The man’s eyes gleam as he counts the amount of money that I handed him. He places the box on the ledge of the stall and shoos us away, probably so we don’t change our minds. 

“You know, this is a lot of sugar. If this becomes like Nobunaga and his konpeito, I might have to confiscate it,” Hideyoshi gives a suspicious glance to the box.

Ignoring him, I unwrap the chocolate bar and chomp off the top corner. The hard texture melts against the wet surface of my tongue with the sweet flavor diffusing across my tastebuds, coating the center of my tongue in milky brown. The chocolate piece has dissolved into a milky coating that travels down my throat, quenching me of my thirst for the delicacy. This is an experience I will never forget. I relish the taste of the heavenly delight as I take a second bite of the candy bar.

“Don’t eat too much of this. You could get a stomachache,” Hideyoshi interrupts my fantasy.

I shoot him a dirty look. “Alright, mother.”

I go back to cherishing my second bite, forgetting about anything that I said earlier. As I take my third bite, Hideyoshi steps closer towards me and leans in my face. “What did you just call me?”

“Uh, I don’t remember.”

“You just called me your mother! I am not your mother. Do I look like your mother to you?” He asks.

I manage to stifle my laughter. Hideyoshi is usually friendly and mature, so seeing him freak out over a small thing was hilarious. However, I couldn’t give him an honest answer because I know I’d burst out laughing, spitting my chocolate all over him. I didn’t want to embarrass the both of us, so I just shook my head. But the grin on my face gives away everything.

“Seriously? What makes me seem anything like a mother?” He puts his hands on his hips.

“For starters, that.” I mock him and put my hands on hips and purse my lips. “Secondly, you’re always watching out for us and cleaning up our messes. You scold the other warlords like they’re your children.”

“That’s because they always wreak havoc in the castle! If I don’t step up and ensure everything runs smoothly, then everything will fall apart.”

I take his hand and squeeze it. “And that’s why you’re so important in the structure of the palace. Don’t hate your motherliness, embrace it.”

Hideyoshi gives me a hard look and I felt laughter bubble in my stomach. It was a lot of fun messing with him. I almost feel bad about it, but I take the last bite of the chocolate to erase my guilty thoughts. However, Hideyoshi doesn’t look away. Instead, he squints his eyes and leans closer. I look up from my chocolate bar and nearly pulled back from the closeness between us. If this was his way of getting back at me for the mom jokes, it was totally working.

He brings his thumb to my lip and slides it down to my chin. The heat rushes to my cheeks and I am sure that my face is red. I pray to every deity in the universe that he can’t feel my heat from my chin, but the raised eyebrow on his face suggests otherwise. I could see the flecks of gold in his honey-colored eyes. The thought of my chocolate disappears as my chest grows tight. Why have chocolate when I could have something sweeter?

The warlord leans in closer, his head tilted down. His eyes are on my lips. My lips almost brush against his. His finger pressed against my chin, pulling my head towards him. His mouth parts slightly with a small curve forming. My entire body is screaming right now. Of all the things that could happen, I did not expect this. 

He removes his finger from my chin and makes soft motions with his finger, tracing the skin around my lips. Then, he steps back and examines his fingers. Melted chocolate stained his fingers. Hideyoshi places the finger in his mouth and looks around, tapping his foot on the ground. Meanwhile, I’m trying to collect my thoughts and calm down, placing my hands on my cheeks. 

Hideyoshi removes his finger from his mouth. “This is sweeter than konpeito. The other warlords are going to finish it in a matter of weeks.”

I would say something in defense of my candy,  but my brain has been reduced to mush. That type of behavior was normal from Masamune or Mitsuhide, but not Hideyoshi. He wasn’t that clueless (that title belonged to Mitsunari).

He turns towards me. “You don’t have anything to say?”

“Uh…………”

“Alright, but one last thing,” Hideyoshi hoists the box of chocolates over his shoulder.

“I can be many things, but your mother isn’t one of them.”

[werevulvi]

This is not a coming out post or a declaration of new labels in any way, shape or form what so ever. This is merely me venting new thoughts and trying to detangle my feelings. I'm just experimenting around, alright.

I took a break from venting to my partner about my endless gender anxieties and instead turned to an online friend for advice on my situation, because he was open to hear about it, and asked me about my wish to go back on testosterone. This barely adult trans guy who's 10 years younger than myself, only been on testosterone for about a year and fairly recently had top surgery, has become a little bit of a mentor for me... ironically. As just a couple of years ago, I was a bit of a mentor for him as an inspirational "trans elder."

Is it right that I unload my deep, heavy inner struggles on him for advice about transition/detransition stuff? Debatable, but I'm pretty sure I have good influences on this kid, as he has matured and wised up vastly for the past couple of years that we've been friends. And yes, he's totally fine with my "terfy" gender critical, radfem opinions, despite being a transmed/truscum himself. We usually get along just fine, despite our different views. He looks up to me.

So, for whatever it's worth, I really value my friendship with him and I have a lot of respect for him.

So, anyhow. I had a chat with him yesterday, in which he kindly tried to substitute for my absolutely useless therapists. Much appreciated. And it helped me to get a new, fresh perspective on it that sparked a lot of new ideas and feelings within me. Even as a gender critical person, I think it's important to not narrow my mind down to only listening to that one world view. If I'd do that, I'd be no better than the hive-minded TRA's, okay.

What's so fresh about his world view is that he doesn't believe in nonbinary, because he understands that the only sexes that exist are male and female, and that intersex is not a third sex, and otherwise has the quite typical transmedicalist view of gender identity being connected to dysphoria and that that's something trans people are born with, alright. Furthermore, he accepts that he's bio female and always gonna be that way, but just feels better living as a man and passing as male.

So he would never shove the nonbinary label down my throat, like almost everyone else has (including my quack of a gender therapist who literally spews fake-science), and he understand that I really have dysphoria when I describe it to him, despite having mostly thought of me as "a regular cis woman deep down." He understands that my traumas fucked with my perception of gender, takes my autism and BPD into account (he's also autistic and his sister has BPD); but is also quite open to the idea of atypical dysphoria in binary trans people, and that trans men don't have to be masculine, etc. He's also totally fine with my sex-based views on sexual orientation, but regards his own sexual orientation as gender-based. So his perspective differs slightly from my own perspective, but we do have a lot of views on trans stuff in common, and are both respectful of each other's differing views.

That should be the necessary background info about him, I believe. So like... he's not like the harmful TRA's on twitter, even though he has shitty views on bisexuals (yes, that was him in my previous, angry post about bisexuals, lol. We got over that.)

What he suggested to me was basically (my rough translation of a snippet from what he said, what stood out to me the most): "Why not be openly FtM? Accept your female traits (then I mean body and terms like lesbian and that too) but put yourself in a male identity? It sounds kinda like that is what fits the best in your situation when the only thing you have dysphoria over is just what's socially male traits och not the directly bodily." It hit me hard because I had never seen it that way before. It opened up a new posibility, and that's really all I'm saying here. It's a posibility, and I want to explore it. Just telling me that I can be FtM if I just feel like it was not what I needed to hear. I discarded that from others in the past, claiming such an assertion to be silly and illogical. I miss my breasts, I regret my top surgery, I love my female body and I'm proudly a lesbian - I cannot possibly be a trans man because I don't have enough dysphoria for it! -I kept thinking.

But then... when I was instead told that I could be FtM based on that I actually want to and like passing as male, and that I can actually totally be a hyper-feminine, lesbian trans guy who is fine with his female body underneath the clothed surface... THAT lit a light in me. So, why I had been repeatedly discarding the option to be a feminine trans man in the past, wasn't because I genuinely thought it was a dumb idea, but because I didn't believe it could even be an actual option, based on my dysphoria being so... female friendly. Now... I feel like it could be an actual option.

I mean I have healed... A LOT. I've healed my connection to being female a lot. I've even accepted and embraced that I'm a lesbian. I made most of my dysphoria go away. Those are HUGE things that should absolutely not be flushed down the drain. But fact is I'm still dysphoric and without really having seen it that way before, I have been presenting as a feminine/gnc male quite a lot throughout my detransing, and that's what I'm the most comfortable with. I've stated it many times: That I love looking like a gnc man. Being a "male-passing bearded woman" oooh sounds like a trans guy to me?! Well, could be. I've felt consistently uncomfortable trying to pass as female, and my dysphoria has gotten worse the longer I've been off testosterone. Quitting voice training and saving out my beard again felt like two huge reliefs; to embrace my beloved T traits and accept that I cannot possibly hate them.

They are mine, they feel intrinsic and crucial to my body and I want them to stay. Now I'm hassling with my gender clinic to get back on testosterone again. I am going to. If at all possible.

I feel a sense of relief, but also defeat, at the thought of going back to my old label as a trans man. However, it wouldn't be the same as it was back then. I'm a proud lesbian now, I have enough pussy power to empower a whole nation of insecure women, I'm fine with being considered a woman based strictly on my biology, I've healed my connection to my female sex. I feel like a completely different person compared to the miserable, self-hating trans man I was prior to mid 2018, and I would never go back to being that sorta trans man again... but I'm contemplating the posibility of being a lesbian, openly female, gender critical trans man. Because as my friend said: why not? Let's address gender identity quickly: Would I then identify as a man? No, not really. If so, I'd wear the label trans man or FtM in the sense of being a dysphoric female who's happily transitioned, (hopefully) back on testosterone, happily male-passing and living as sort of a man socially. Then I mean living as a man in the sense of deliberately passing as male, going by male terms/pronouns (except from labeling myself lesbian and being fine with using female terms on occasion, depending on the context) but not actually identifying as any sorta gender in particular. Then why calling myself a man at all? Well... because I look like one and I love looking like one. People cannot see or hear in my voice that I'm actually female, and they don't need to know that, except from when they actually do need to know that. I want to be open about my sex being female but I feel like maaaaybe I'm not actually comfortable with calling myself a woman. At least not like 500 times a day. Because personal comfort is more important than politics. Repeat that after me.

This does however, unfortunately but of course, make me re-think my wish got get breast implants. Do I regret my top surgery? Yes. Do I miss having boobs? Yes. But it's hard as hell to present male with obvious boobs that I'd be unable to bind. Both because the implants would likely damage my internal tissues badly if I kept them pressed down like that, and because I've already whacked my ribs from previous binding pre-op. It would be way too dangerous for both those reasons. I can't help that the thought of being a trans man with silicone boobs, after top surgery, sounds insane to me... but I'm trying to look beyond that and focus on what I want for myself and what matters to me personally. If I actuallly, truly, madly, deeply, want new boobs for myself and my private personal life because I think that would improve my connection to my chest... then I should do that regardless of how insane it may seem... because of the label I'm slapping onto my ass.

The questions spinning in my head, about my chest, are:

Can I live with it?

Can I accept that I made a mistake to have top surgery, but move on with my life with how things became?

Would it be easier to become fine with it if I reclaim my former male identity, or just another escape?

Was my wish to get new breasts only connected to my identity as a woman?

Would I be able to let go of my grief and regret, and find the silver lining of having a flat chest, as a self-loving and self-caring, openly FtM person, while presenting as male?

Could I allow myself to enjoy going out bare-chested in public and enjoy the summer breeze, or pool water, directly caressing my skin, if I'd embrace that I actually enjoy looking like and living as a man who is actually female?

If I willingly and wantingly present as male, not just skipping trying to pass as female out of convenience, but embracing my male-passability as a positive thing that I actually enjoy; would that also make me comfortable, or at least okay with, not having breasts?

I need to think through all of those questions. I'll soon have my consultation for breast reconstruction. Fuck. I need another summer to explore and experiment with being flat-chested and how I really, really feel about it. My god, why is this so hard?! (breathe... relax... it’ll be alright.) Yes, I have healed my connection to my femaleness, but was that ever equal to me being happy with living as a woman? Perhaps I went too far with it to actually detransition, when there was an in-between option all along, that I just glossed over and discarded without even entertaining the thought. Perhaps the middle ground that I need to be, is not nonbinary... but a lesbian, openly female trans man? I need to experiment and explore this new-old option which I feel just opened up before me. I'm freeing my aching chest from the heavy breast forms and tight bras, even trying out packing my underwear again (I kept my small "Pierre" packer (uncut version) which is perfect for when wearing skirts, as it barely shows any bulge at all... because boner+skirt is just a really bad look alright), while still wearing my usual feminine style. I'm vaguely considering going swimming in just bottoms again (whether panties or shorts). I'm playing with the rare, male name Saphir in my mind as an alternative to my similar-sounding birth name Sara (which I currently go by, officially), and asking myself gently how I would feel about going by he/him pronouns and male terms again; just to play around and feel things out.

So far... it feels pretty fucking good. But it's only been one day and that's not a lot to go on. I need to give this a hell of a lot more time. I am not done yet. I'm merely starting, again. I only wanted to vent these thoughts and feelings while they're still fresh in my mind. So please excuse the mess, I'm still under construction and it's unfortunately taking a little longer than expected. Thank you for your waning patience.

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! I hope you're well ☺️ I love and save all your Drarry fic recs and was wondering if you could do a rec list for Drarry fics that include well written OCs and who are actually important to the story. My example for this would be The Man Who Lived by SebastianL. Thank you and take care ♥️

Hi anon! I’ve seen better days but thanks for asking, hope you’re doing well! Erm I gotta admit that I don’t really keep track of OCs 😬 it’s nothing against them - I just don’t get too attached and since I usually avoid fics where they get romantically involved with Harry or Draco, I don’t think I’ve read many fics where they’re particularly important to the story. I’m listing just a few fics below (you prob already know them) but I’m sure my followers will be able to help with more recs :)

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by @wellhalesbells (2015, Teen and Up, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (2013, Explicit, 50k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (2020, Explicit, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all.

Headlights in the Snow by Saras_Girl (2016, Mature, 71k)

What’s big and purple and smells like tea? Harry is about to find out.

Wild by orphan_account (2016, Explicit, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.”

“I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (2019, Explicit, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998's 15th reunion isn't welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives.

All Missing Things (Can Be Found) by daisymondays (2017, Explicit, 100k)

After a drunken hook up ends badly, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have no intention of ever speaking again -- but when they're assigned to solve a case of young child disappearances, they have to put their past behind them.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (2013, Mature, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (2018, Explicit, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along. As Draco reckons with his ex-wife's infidelity and questions about his own sexuality, he finds himself going to an openly gay Potter for guidance. As their friendship deepens, Draco realizes that there is quite a lot that Potter can teach him. And that he is surprisingly ready to learn.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl (2013, Explicit, 264k)

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

Tales From the Special Branch by Femme (2017, Explicit, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

Thanks for the rec @uggghhhwhy:

Taking Chances by @gracerene09 (2018, Explicit, 135k)

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] YOHOGIRL interview with WayV’s Ten, Lucas & Yangyang!

What did the WayV trio who can speak 7 languages in total say to us before they watched their first fashion show? About two weeks ago, after we saw the celebrity guest list for FENDI's grand fashion show in Shanghai, our editor buddies all immediately said in the Li Jiaqi  (a guy who became known after recommending a lipstick) tone: Interview them! And we landed the interview. Na (a sound to express something being shown to someone else), here they are - WayV trio's only been half a year since brand new boygroup WayV debuted, but how popular are they already? Before the FENDI show, I posted on Weibo, attaching photos of them, and within a minute, it had garnered hundreds of shares and comments. If you still don't know who they are, I suggest you listen to the title track they just released in May - Take Off. Members Lucas, Ten, and Yangyang were the three who came to watch the show, and their average age is 20 years old (Lucas and Yangyang are both born just before and after 2000~), but in our interaction, I found a profound maturity with politeness and adorableness like the spring wind. After the interview, this old sister thought: how nice it’d be if my future sons were just like them. Alright, hurry and come and see what we talked about with the WayV trio, seeing as when this heavenly group gains even more popularity, we’ll probably take half a year before they have time for another interview with us...

Q: Tonight is your first time watching a fashion live, right? Isn’t it very exciting for you right now? Yangyang: Yes, yes, it’s the first time for all three of us~ In the past, I’ve only watched videos of fashion shows, this will be an unforgettable first experience. Lucas: I really want to watch the show soon! This is a really important show, I believe it’s been decorated and furnished grandly inside. Ten: I really like fashion myself, so I really look forward to viewing tonight’s collection.

Q: What will you look out for during the show? Yangyang: I’ll probably pay more attention to the matching of their pieces because the designers’ way of matching will be different from what typical people wear on the streets, I want to learn from them. Ten: I think it’ll be color, FENDI’s clothes have lots of basic colors, and they’re really nice to look at. Lucas: I’ll probably pay more attention to the models, since I learned to model before, and walked a show too, so it’ll feel very different as an audience watching the models walk the show~

Q: As a group who has debuted for about half a year, how do you think you grew and changed in this half a year? Yangyang: I think we can better face the camera now, and gained some stage experience. Ten: I think it’s our teamwork! Lucas: Mmhm, we were already very good before, but we seem to have more motivation now, and really feel that we are one team who can’t go on with even one person’s absence, we cherish very much the time we have together, and often gather to have fun, feeling one another’s spark.

Q: Out of the 3 of you, who has the best fashion sense? Yangyang: About this, I feel that the three of us have vastly different style! For example, Lucas has a tall and strong physique, so he suits more tight-fitting clothes; Ten is someone whose clothing matches his emotions, he is quite good in the sense that clothes that don’t look good on other people somehow looks very good on him! As for me, I prefer more street, sporty styles, like today’s hairband, which I personally picked out, haha.

Q: Usually, what kind of products do you like to buy? Ten: I like to buy accessories like necklaces, bracelets, ear studs. Lucas: I have many jackets, so no matter what you wear on the inside, as long as you add a jacket on top of it, the feeling will become totally different. Yangyang: I just like to buy shoes. (Lucas: Yes haha, the dorm is just filled with your shoes.....) Haha, as for the shoe I bought recently, I liked it for a long time and bought it after much consideration. Strangely, I don’t really care about joints, as long as I like it on the first look then I’ll buy it. I used to queue up and take queue numbers to buy shoes, but now I don’t have the luxury of time, so I can only buy resale shoes, haha

Q: You three’s backgrounds are all so international, so how many languages can you each speak? Yangyang: I can speak 5—Chinese, English, German, Korean, and a little bit of Spanish, because it was a mandatory class in Germany. Ten: I speak Thai, English, Korean, and a little bit of Chinese...... (Lucas & Yangyang: Your Chinese is already really good!) Lucas: My living environment was really complicated, as my mom is Thai, but I grew up in Hong Kong, so I can speak Mandarin, Cantonese, Thai, Korean, and have recently been diligently studying English. Background Information: Lucas is a Hong Kong-born mix of Chinese and Thai; Ten is Chinese-Thai; Yangyang is Chinese-German.

Q: Then do Lucas and Ten often use Thai to communicate? Lucas & Ten: Haha, sometimes, but really rarely, maybe we will suddenly say a sentence or two. In actuality Chinese is spoken more often, to help Ten practice more Chinese.

Q: Lucas recently began appearing on entertainment show “Running Man,” and are there any thoughts of it in particular? Lucas: My dream is to become a traveler, so the best part about the show is its ability for me to learn more about China. Our country is really big, so through this show, I was able to interact with the language, culture, and food of different places across the nation, when not everyone is able to get the opportunity to experience these places, so I am very grateful. 

Q: Are there any goals WayV want to accomplish for this year? Yangyang: This year’s goal...... We hope to be able to meet our fans more often! Lucas: Yes, and actually if we’re not talking about just this year, us 7 all have one common goal, and that is to have our own concert. Ten: Yeah, that is our ultimate goal!

Q: We just heard that Yangyang said he hopes his follower count could hit over 10 million. Yangyang: That’s a dream, but if it’s accomplished, there will be a bonus treat for the fans—I will sing German children’s song “The Little Crocodile” for you guys! Hahaha.

Translation: Jess, Angela, Seol @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: YOHOGIRL — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

[1998tales]

27 JULY 2020

10:14PM

The bump on my face is big again. I felt it was flatter for a while, but now it’s more solid. Eeep. 

~

I listened to folklore two times today. Work was pretty easy and I managed to stay on track. I listened to a few songs here and there throughout the day.

~

I got my etsy tarot card reading. I’m going to paste the whole thing here.

Thank you so much for your purchase and I’m grateful you found me amongst the many talented readers here on Etsy. I think that this is a question I can answer for you - just so long as the understanding is that in order for the best to present itself, you must also in turn present YOUR best via manifestation and things of that nature. But other than that small note, let’s go ahead and take a look at your cards and see what we can figure out! dun, dun, dun...

First things first, you have the Page of Pentacles clarified by the Sun. So right away, this is less about what’s COMING, and far more about what you can personally do to help give the universe a little push in manifesting the connections that you are looking for. With the Sun here - despite the trying times that we are all dealing with on a global level - this serves as a message from your guides that this is PRIMARY MANIFESTING TIME. And what’s the best way to use manifesting time? Get SPECIFIC. Planting seeds for what you want in a relationship begins by truly KNOWING what you want. So though it may feel a little bit cheesy and silly, think about making up a list of “MUSTS” for a future partner. If you need your future partner to be tall or smart or good-looking or have the best bowling record in the world, WRITE IT DOWN. The more specific you are with YOURSELF, the more specific you are with the universe. And that’s when the universe comes through for you. Oh wow. I should write this down. 

Let’s see:

Christian

Taller

Intelligent

Physically fit

Emotionally strong

Traditional

Funny

Patient

Polite

Attractive

Gray hair - not a deal breaker

Older

Deep voice

Masculine

Sexual

The reason that all of this will be so vastly important is due to the Page of Wands reversed clarified by the IV of Pentacles reversed, which suggests to me that if you ARE putting yourself out there, the unfortunate news is that not ALL options and opportunities presented to you are going to be wholly in alignment with what you are looking for in the longterm. You want to be careful of the human embodiment of that reversed Page - in other words, an individual who doesn’t know WHAT they want and constantly jumps back and forth between wanting a relationship or commitment and NOT wanting a relationship or commitment. This is an unfortunately common part of dating, so it’s important that you are protecting yourself by knowing very clearly what your OWN standards and “boxes” are, in order to avoid these frustrating and even PAINFUL kinds of connections in the future. With the Fool clarified by the VI of Pentacles followed by Strength, I think the HIGHLY POSITIVE news is that despite some of these conditions that I’ve listed above, I do believe that there is going to be the opportunity for new love in your future. I do not provide specific timelines, as tarot makes doing so incredibly difficult, but what I will say is that this is likely to be someone you meet sooner, rather than later (in other words, not a relationship that is YEARS down the line, and considerably more within your immediate future). The great thing that we see here is that not only is this opportunity for new love, it’s an opportunity for new love with someone STABLE and very much clear about what they want from you. And this is VITAL, especially considering the appearance of some less than stellar options we saw above. This sounds promising.

There is a strength of spirit, maturity, and generosity at play here - indicating someone who will not only let you know what they want clearly and concisely, but someone who will be truly generous with you. This can feel like a godsend, if you’ve had to deal with a lot of questionable characters who perhaps did not offer the kind of commitment and dedication that you were seeking within a relationship. I will say that the energy of this is definitely far more “committed” than it is fling - and I think a great deal of that has to do with a sense of maturity and character present. This is not a child in adult’s clothing. This is an MATURE ADULT who has worked to become the person that they are. Good.

Ultimately, with the Ace of Swords clarified by the III of Wands as your final cards, I see this as a positive sign that there will be a very mutual and very intense connection shared by the two of you. Specifically, one that can lead to further and deeper commitment and a much broader future for you as a couple. With that being said, I think the only negative (and I wouldn’t call it a negative, as much as intuitive guidance) is going to be the need in both THIS connection and all others that may come before it to be sure that you are being VERY CLEAR about what you are personally looking for from a relationship. The more that you can put your needs and wants on the table right away, the more that you can avoid the mind-games of those less-inclined to actually provide those needs and wants. This may feel like an uncomfortable or controlling conversation, but it is NOT. It’s about clarity. It’s about DEMANDING what you want...and in doing so, truly being allowed to receive it. 

~

So, I’m not sure what to think of that. It’s something to keep in mind. I know that I need to work on myself. I’m really not worthy of the man who has those characteristics listed above. That’s not pity. It’s honesty. Sometimes, you really need to be honest with yourself. I have to transform myself into someone that man may want to be with. I want to hang my head high. I want to be healthy and responsible. Even if I don’t manage to find him, one day I can learn to love myself.

~

I made a small video earlier. It has nearly 500 views. That’s a lot less than usual. I should try harder with my channel, but lack focus. I’m not truly interested in it anymore.

[direquail]

An NB reading of Grace in Terminator: Dark Fate

Disclaimer:

Before I start, just want to get this out here: I’m in no way insisting that Grace *has* to be non-binary, that we’re *supposed* to read her as non-binary, or that that’s in any way what she’s “meant to be”. This is just some stuff I’ve noticed that, as someone who sits on the genderqueer/non-binary/transmasc side of things, really resonated with me. Again--read her as entirely woman-identified if that’s what you want to do or feels right to you. I am ecstatic that lesbians and wlw-identified folks have someone that they feel represented in, too. I wish I’d had more characters like her when I was growing up and felt so out of place because of my gender non-conformity. 


But I, for one, would love a non-binary or even trans reading of Grace.

So what I’d like to do instead is just lay out a couple ways someone who is NB-identified *might* connect with Grace as a nonbinary character. Starting with the obvious.

Androgyny Now, I do want to be clear that I know that gender presentation =\= gender identity. And again, obviously, people will latch onto things that they relate to in characters, and I really do believe that there’s no “one right way” to read a character. The character of Grace isn’t a real person; she’s part of a story, told by people, who had something specific to say, and her character reflects that. But from the perspective of the people who watch her, who internalize and connect with her character, there can be points of connection that have nothing to do with the author’s/creator’s intent, and so, Grace-the-character can be many things to many people. The only real way to know how a person IDs is to ask them. That’s it, that’s all. You can’t assume. But also, sometimes, people do “ping” a certain way. They give off a sort of “energy”, and for me, Grace’s energy isn’t the sort of “diaphanous femininity” that even visibly-gender-nonconforming AFAB characters are often framed to exude. Grace’s energy isn’t masculine, either. Her mannerisms don’t seem intended to read that way; rather, they seem intended to read as soldier. I’m not very skilled at breaking down movements, especially when it comes to how actors move and what it all means. It’s totally possible that a lot of what’s unique about how Grace moves is because Mackenzie Davis is, self-admittedly, not the most athletically-inclined person. Grace is long-limbed and rangy and sometimes very stiff/poised, but never stiff through the hips like a Straight Dude(TM), or heavy through the shoulders like a musclebound meathead. She takes up space, too; she’s taller than Dani and Sarah both, and the only recurring characters who are “bigger” than her throughout most of the film are Carl and the Rev-9.

To be clear: Women can be tall, and rangy, and androgynous, and take up space, and that doesn’t make them less women--unless they don’t identify that way. My point with all of the above is just observing that Grace doesn’t move like a “male action hero”—but she also doesn’t seem over-the-top feminine in the way that mainstream-y media will “compensate” for perceived unfemininity, and that’s kind of wonderful. Her stature, her physique, all of that, seem to be chosen and calibrated towards an end goal that isn’t gendered: Combat, efficacy as a warrior. Whether you want to read her as a woman or as nonbinary is largely going to be about your personal preference. This also has the effect of giving the impression that Grace is absolutely unselfconscious about her body and how it looks—and she has no reason to be, not because she looks good or bad, but because what she can do with her body is just so vastly more important, and because she’s so willing to put her body and everything it can do on the line in order to fulfill her mission (and protect Dani). If Grace has a gender, it’d be “Protector” or “Warrior”. And in a way, what makes Grace so appealing to female-identified lesbians is the same thing that makes her appealing to NB people—Her character was explicitly designed not to cater to “the male gaze”, and therefore, she also exists outside the typical gendered confines reserved for “female characters” in media. The emphasis is just slightly different: Instead of a different way of being female, NB!Grace has little to no use for those categories at all. Again, it’s all in how you want to read her. Grace comes from a future where survival and fighting take first priority, and you could project the same tired “Gender isn’t a ~problem~ in the future/after the world ends” approach that a lot of cis and hetero men take to sci-fi--but also, why? It’s tired. Give me a Grace who is preoccupied with survival, yes, who maybe doesn’t have time to think too much about this gender shit--but also, a Grace who finds that this “androgyny” (although she might not call it that) suits her, who takes to this way of moving and being in the world, this way of using her body, and identifies more with that than with being a “man” or a “woman”. 


(Sidenote: as someone who took a fair amount of Queer Studies classes, it does irk me a bit that discussions of mainstream-y speculative media seem permanently suspended between this sort of “genderblind” futurism where “identities” just don’t exist because they’re apparently not needed anymore, or copy-pasting our contemporary discourses about identity into a future that is materially very different than ours. The point of these identities is, in part, to describe our experiences, the good as well as the bad, and those experiences of gender and sexuality don’t exist in a vacuum. So, the words we use will necessarily change to accommodate that—especially in the post-apocalypse. BUT, everything that comes after us will also bear the stamp of what came before it; it’s just a matter of what the creator means to emphasize.) Augments & Body Mods This is a little dicey, because there’s some clear tension in the movie between the idea of robots = inhuman/unfeeling = bad, and humans = good/feeling. And in that light, it’s potentially problematic to (even incidentally) imply that nonbinary/gender-nonconforming = not human.

But I’d like to point out that the film does deliberately challenge any neat separation of “human” and “machine” with Carl’s evolution as a person. 
And based on what I’ve read from James Cameron and Tim Miller interviews, there is some “blurring” intended between human and machine in the franchise.

In fact, Carl and Grace are foils for each other, somewhat, in the sense that they’re on opposite ends of a spectrum where human and machine become blurred, and I love that. As a genderqueer person with a very fluid experience, it appeals to me on a deep level because you could spend literally forever breaking down where does one “gender” end and another begin--emotionally, socially, spiritually, and physically.  


So the fact that there’s (1) no hard binary between human and machine (it’s explicitly subverted), and (2) we’re given multiple points of inflection, especially if you count Sarah and the Rev-9--alleviates a lot of the tension I’d feel otherwise in mentioning this. But I don’t think this is something that should be allegorical or a direct comparison; I think that it operates best on a metaphorical or theoretical level. 


And just, it’s the whole vaguely-cyberpunk idea of modifying your own body, not in a mass-produced or manufactured sense, but in this organic and highly individual sense, born out of contingency and necessity, that makes Grace’s Augments so meaningful. It’s one of the things that makes her read as human, too, because it feels more in line with our tendency to stick ink, steel, bone, what have you, through our skins whenever we get the chance--as opposed to some kind of symbolic dehumanization by “becoming a machine”.

Grace routinely refuses to categorize herself in anything other than the most general terms, or explain the details of her Augments, and she seems very protective of them. Rather than seeming ashamed, this refusal reads a lot like the popular queer identity explanation “not gay as in happy, but queer as in “fuck you’”. Her Augments are part of her, and part of her humanity; she volunteered for them, she owns them, and is even protective of them, viewing CBP’s invasive examination of her Augments as a kind of violation of her bodily autonomy. They’re clearly complicated for her, but they’re anything but depersonalized.

And going even further, the reason why she volunteered for them is so that she can defend humanity--and also someone she loves (Dani). They’re an extension of her sense of family, loyalty, love, and willingness to sacrifice.

And I don’t know for sure, but I imagine that Grace is basically one-of-a-kind, even among other Augments, if only because those Augmentations seem to be performed with the tech that’s on hand--salvaged Legion tech, by the sound of it, at least to start with. So the outcome depends on the parts available, the complexity and maturity of the Augmentation technology and process, and the skill & experience of the surgeons, all of which would vary over time. 


And honestly? If that doesn’t qualify as “beyond the binary”, I don’t know what does.

Some other general observations:

- Grace’s short hair is a constant throughout the post-Judgement Day scenes. As someone who started wearing their hair short as a preteen and hasn’t had hair to my shoulders since age 12, that does seem significant.

- Grace only introduces herself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9. Granted, most women don’t like to be addressed as “HEY LADY”, either, but it stood out to me, especially because she refused to give her name only a couple of minutes before that. Either way you read it, the line feels like it expresses some level of discomfort with or objection to that gendered statement. Maybe she finds that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe she doesn’t really identify as a woman. She’s just... Grace.

- there were multiple times I mistook the back of her tank top for the back of a binder, even though she clearly was not binding.

- she constantly steals mens’ clothes--partly because she’s too tall for a lot of womens’ clothes around her, partly out of utility (like at the factory and CBP, where a lot of the guards are men). But also, it pleases the genderfucking queer in me quite a bit. And, I should note, when she had the option to take a female guard’s clothes at the CBP facility... she didn’t.

But ultimately, when I look at Grace, I see someone whose gender is “Warrior” or “Soldier”. And it’s so wonderful to see that so purely represented on a character we’re meant to perceive as female. So, please believe me when I say I don’t want to “take away” what Grace means for other people. 
And, for the record, I do mostly default to using she/her pronouns for Grace, because that’s how she’s canonically referred to. But just for fun--try this on for size: Using “they/them” pronouns for Grace. They (Grace) came back in time to protect Dani. It rolls off the tongue, right? It feels nice. Let’s re-try a couple of sentences from above: 


- “multiple times I mistook the back of their tank top for the back of a binder, even though they clearly weren’t binding” 


- “Grace’s Augments are about their ability to be a soldier. They were Augmented in order to hunt Terminators... Everything else is secondary to that, and their mission to protect Dani”

- “Grace only introduces themself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9 ... Maybe they find that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe they don’t really identify as a woman. They’re just... Grace.”

And finally: 


Can you imagine the poor sod who tried to make fun of Grace for having a “girly” name? lmao rip