#gosh i'm emotional about star wars again

[nerfherder-02]

I've been thinking about why I love Andor so much (besides the fact that it's brilliant and the best star wars media in years) and it led to me thinking about the fact that most of my favorite star wars media is within the time of the Empire.

I think it boils down to the core story of Star Wars, the timeless struggle of a few desperate people against a looming enemy. the indomitable human (or alien) spirit. the innate desire for justice that prevails against all odds. the catharsis of seeing the abusive systems crumble from within, inch by suffocated inch.

I think the best stories are those that we can find within ourselves. maybe even when we don't live in a time of despotic regimes, we will still have to go to war with the oppression in our homes, or our minds. we have to wake up every day and make every effort to fight the good fight. and when the evil creeps in, keeps us apart, confuses and pushes us down, we have to shake off the dust, learn to trust, and fight!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

I See You : Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Warnings and Information: Going with a 13+ rating just on account of language in the form of Star Wars and real-world swearing, just to be cautious. Self-indulgent modern AU fic, but you can read it too. This is practice for Crosshair's character as well as something mildly therapeutic. I'm… fine, but not fabulous, y'know? Job hunting is not exactly fun, so I'm just writing out my frustrations. How many Clone cameos can I fit in here? We'll find out together. They're not dead, what are you talking about? Empire gets compared to any one of those multimillion-dollar companies that treat you like shit no matter how good of a worker you are with Palp as the soul-sucking CEO in modernized terms. Rare fic without minor instances of Mando'a, but plenty of my stylistic and narrative use of italics. Minor proofreading. 

Word-count: 4,237

The phone rings. You put it up to your ear so fast you nearly drop your cell in your haste to answer, not even looking at the screen. You should've. It would have saved you time, the realization that these people were not reaching out to get back to you about your job application. You hang up halfway into the pitch about repairing damaged products you don't even own. 

The lid slams to the washing machine."Oh, fuck me!" you yell, groaning loudly.

You're of two minds; be consumed with your frustrations and take it out on the washing machine, or just clean the paint stains out with your tears. You're sure that'll work just as well as the detergent in order to get out that large smear of phthalo blue. Except, it won't, and the sooner you get this load started, the less time the paint has to set and stain. The lid is lifted.

Footfall softer than falling snow, Crosshair makes his way in from some other part of the shared house, his expression passive as he observes you dunking fistfuls of dirty clothing into the wash-drum. "Is that an invitation or a request?" He at least waited to make his remark until he was certain you noticed him and gave him a trademark "what the kriff do you want?" sort of look. 

Knuckles pale as you grip the lip of the machine with one hand. "I'm not in the mood for your-" 

"No; I know you're not." Crosshair interrupts you. "But I came to see if you hurt yourself, mostly." 

"I'm fine." you snarl, slam-dunking the last of the clothing from the hamper anchored against your hip. "I slammed the lid." A neat brow buckles just a fraction, all the response you get as you push your way past him, returning to the small office that served as your art studio in this house. You're really not in the mood. You were a whirlwind of emotion, most of it negative. 

You can feel his eyes from the doorway, trained on the back of your neck as you work. Gosh you made such a mess, you shouldn't have used so much paint thinner. "Go away, Cross. I need to clean up my easel and see if I can't salvage this portrait of…" You stop, breath hitching when you hear Crosshair clear his throat softly. He's directly behind you now, his voice taking on a slightly serpentine quality in its softness.

"Your clean shirt's on backwards, doll." 

You shake your head, stubbornly refusing to believe him. "Nice try. Not while my hands are dirty. Tell me again once I get this mess cleaned up." 

Wordlessly, Crosshair plucks the runny canvas from its easel and makes sure not to take it beyond the edge of the tarp. Hunter would be disappointed to find a mess on the beautiful hardwood floors so soon after he's treated them. And you'd be disappointed with yourself to give a portrait to an important friend in its current state. What should have been beautiful, angular and geometric lines are little more than a royal mess.

"Just go ahead and trash it for me…" 

The same brow arches. "Why?" 

"Because I don't want to give Hardcase a painting that looks like that..." you reply, huffing in your disappointment and frustration that you'd gotten so sloppy with your oils. "I said his portrait would be perfect practice for crisp, angular forms with that beautiful pop of blue from his tattoo and this is… far from it." 

Your housemate looks at you with mild surprise. As far as mild surprise goes for Crosshair, anyhow. He wouldn't look quite so aghast like Wrecker, or frown quite so deeply as Echo. 

"Who are you and what have you done to the Bob Rossified [____] we know and admire? What happened to the happy accidents?" Ordinarily, the comparison to the famous art instructor and television host would have made your face burn brighter than your favorite brand of alizarin crimson paint. 

Instead, you scoff at him. "Very funny..." 

"I'm serious." Crosshair insists, setting the portrait back on the easel once you've wiped it down, "What's the matter?" 

You shouldn't snap at him, but your mouth just runs away from you. "I thought I got a call back from the place I applied to. I was wrong! It was some damn spam call, and I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed. Okay? Happy now?" 

The palms of his hands flash in a surrendering fashion to you before he speaks. "I'd say you're more angry than disappointed." Sighing, you take your cleaning rag and do Crosshair a favor by removing the thinned, blue oil paint from his hands after he notices it himself. "Kriff. Sorry." 

Gently, you assure him you'll take care of it. That it's no trouble. That he's right, after some thought, "I guess… I am angry. All these places that are supposedly so kriffing desperate for employees sure take their damn sweet time. Or they seem to be hiring everyone but you. It makes me feel… invisible. They should have called me by now! Right…?" Crosshair looks at the calendar tacked to the wall of your little studio, where it's written in your favorite color the day you applied to the art supply store. They definitely should have by this point, he agrees. 

"Have they reached out by email?" he asks gently, watching as you take that same cleaning cloth and gingerly wipe down the bottom edge of the canvas. He's convinced you for the time being not to break it over your knee and pitch it into the curbside bin until you at least give yourself an hour away from your brushes to think it over. 

You shake your head, "I've been checking every day. Nothing." You now wash your brushes before the paint gums up the bristles, at least. And then you promise you'll lay aside your brushes and go grab a bite to eat with him. "And most places these days, they're likely to actually trash your résumé if you call them to 'follow up' on your application process. That old piece of unsolicited advice needs to die out, pronto. Just because it worked for- for- Agatha and her generation, doesn't mean it works for mine!" 

Crosshair snorts. 

"What?" 

"Agatha?"

"Shut up… I could have gone with Karen and been unoriginal." you grumble, gingerly fixing the arrangement of your fan brush. 

Crosshair retorts sarcastically, giving you a playful smirk. "The 1930s called, they'd like to know why you're using such a dated name." Ordinarily, Crosshair stays out of your hair (and your studio) by never bothering you as you work, but it's clear that he's trying to cheer you up, even a little. 

"Unless the 1930s is offering me a job," you start, plucking the thin script brush from his dexterous fingers just as he begins to twirl it, "it better not bother me by calling…" 

"The art store will call you eventually, I'm sure…" he tells you, the grim frown matching your souring expression. "You love art. You're a creative person. What better person to work at a place like that than someone who could practically recite an episode of The Joy of Painting in her sleep?" You point out, playfully, that Tech could recite an episode of Painting in his sleep just as easily as you. But at least you crack a smile as you do so, so he lets it slide. "Okay, you and my brother." Cross concedes, thinking back to the time the household decided to try a "painting party" to break up the seasonal gloom last December. "Maybe Hardcase and Wrecker too, if the pocket squirrels make an appearance." 

Here, you finally chuckle. "Forgetting Fives would be criminal. Or how concentrated Dogma gets." 

Cross just nods agreeably, hoping to keep a good thing going. "I wouldn't dare. My point is, you'd be amazing at an art store. They'd be lucky to have a gal like you who gives a kriff about art working for them." 

You flash Crosshair a confused and crooked smile as you set down the last of your brushes and tighten the last twist-cap on your tube of oil-based paints. "You think so?" You're surprised how… sincere Crosshair sounds. You had to do a little metaphorical arm twisting just to get him to join you when the only spot left in the living room was a seat on the couch next to Rex. 

Cross just nods decidedly. "C'mon. Let's grab a burger or something. My treat." A burger sounds great, you tell him, fixing your shirt so it's not on backwards before you stroll out the door.

Maker above, did he really mean his treat. Crosshair took you both down to the best burger joint in the city, where the two of you ate your respective orders and split a carton of fries with the house seasoning and plenty of salt. 

"Oooh, kriff me…" you moaned blissfully, sucking your fingers clean of the granules of salt and seasoning, "these fries hit the spot every time." They're probably your favorite thing here, honestly. Perfect amount of crispness, balanced flavor, and hot; never ever tepid or cold. Cross snags a few more fries from the carton before nudging it your way, inviting you to polish off the rest. "You don't want any more?" you ask, curious. "There's still plenty in there to share." 

He offers a lazy shrug, "I'll think about it." He slips his phone from his pocket when he hears a ping, and he hums thoughtfully after reading the message. "... Think I should let Wrecker find out on his own that he's home alone?" You can only shake your head disapprovingly of the wry smile, mouth too full of food to chastise him. While Wrecker and Crosshair weren't afraid of messing around with one another, you worried about it getting out of hand on occasion. "Fine. I'll let him know we're not home so the big guy doesn't worry, doll. In fact…" 

Cross types down a message much longer than a simple courtesy "we're not home" text, and then cleans up the discarded burger wrappers and straw sleeves, snagging a few more fries once you say you can't possibly eat another bite. "Good. Not a lot of fun when you go shopping hungry." 

"Didn't we just make a grocery run two days ago?" Crosshair shakes his head, then pitches everything into the large garbage receptacle as you grab your things. "Not that kind of shopping then." you determine. There were a lot of possible options, but you didn't have to slog through another massive grocery list, at least. "Where are we going?" 

"You'll see." Crosshair replies simply, holding the door for you to follow after as he steps into the parking lot. "I had an idea." Now you really wonder where you're going, or what he has planned. Crosshair and spontaneity get along about as well as a Tooka and bathwater, sometimes. 

You have to remind yourself that Crosshair wasn't a complete stick in the mud all the time, and when you first met him, he was still working for the same company that his other brothers had quit once they found out what kind of person the man who ran this multimillion company turned out to be. 

First found himself working under some bloke named Edmon down the managerial line, before he was arrested for embezzlement. Then a real asswipe of a superior named Nolan took over, and after someone got hurt really badly on a "company retreat" and Nolan refused to call for an ambulance, Crosshair finally came to his senses about the place. 

They don't give a shit about how loyal of a worker you are, just like Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Echo warned him. They were right all along. 

You thought you mattered to us? Please… Someone younger and desperate enough will come in and take your place if we feed them enough honeyed lies!

So Cross stole Nolan's car and drove himself and the injured coworker down to a hospital two hours away from the company retreat. Crosshair had known the guy for less than 24 hours (or something like that), but Mayday's injury helped Cross come to realize that the company was a sinking ship. So he got them both out. Now, Mayday and Cross spend every Sunday night checking in on each other. Cross works odd jobs from home, mostly, and Mayday… Well he was content with not being employed for a while. 

The longer Crosshair has been living at home with his brothers again, the more he's starting to get (some of) his old sense of self back. He's no longer couch surfing because he didn't want to deal with his brothers fussing over his choice to remain with the company. 

He was never, ever kicked out. 

Cross had always been welcome to come back home, with a spare key tucked under the welcome mat if he ever needed it. 

You'd been the one to find him letting himself into the house at three in the morning after Mayday talked Cross into going and seeing his brothers. You were "leasing" a room from the brothers at the time, and they had let you know the deal about Crosshair. "Please don't call the police if you ever find someone who's just… let himself into the house. That's our brother. We've been worried about him. He's made choices we don't agree with, but he's still our brother. We care about him." 

Of course, Cross had no warning about you, but he eventually warmed up to you in time after you had practically broken Hunter's door off its hinges to let him know that Cross was here and he was tackled into the coffee table by the biggest of his brothers in Wrecker's excitement.

That spare key under the welcome mat now sits on your ring of keys, which you fiddle with in your hands the longer you and Crosshair drive through the city. 

"Isn't this the way downtown?" 

"Mhm." 

"Still won't give me a hint, Cross?" 

"No." he chuckles, pulling the steering wheel into a smooth left turn. "You'll see soon enough, doll."

He's taken you to the art store, to your surprise. The one you applied to. Not that specific location you applied to in town, thank the Maker, but the chain, rather. "I haven't been to one of these places in years…" Cross admits softly as he pulls himself out of the car. "Figured while we were out of the house, we'd stop by." 

"How come?" you ask. You'd recently just bought a bunch of paint, so it's not like you needed anything in particular, really, maybe just wanted… There was one particularly pricey art supply you've had your eye on and lusting after for a while now, but given your current unemployment status, you're really trying to control your spending. "You got a project in mind, or somethin', Cross?" 

Shoulders bounce. "Not really." 

"So… what are we doing here?" 

"Looking." he declares, steering you into the store by your shoulder. "Lookings always free. So is anything you can apply the five-finger disco-"

"Cross!" 

"I'm kidding." he declares semi-defensively, laughing at the expression on your face. "C'mon, doll, you know I'm kidding. Hard to smuggle out a whole canvas or large pack of… whaddya call those markers? Cop-picks?" 

Mild mortification turns into bubbly giggles over his decent effort to pronounce the brand name. "Copics. They're called Copic markers. And, they're kind of a scam." He just looks at you with an expression of confusion, so you figure you better explain. "Here, lemme show you." Taking his hand, you lead Cross down to the aisle dedicated to sketch pads, pencils and markers. On the shelves, there's dozens of specialty packs and bundles with quirky names. 

Oceanic, "Beach Blast!", and skin tones are all prominently stocked for the summer. Singleton markers are what you're looking for though. You pluck a Copic Classic from one of the slots, and point to the price sticker. 

A whopping 9.65 credits for a single kriffing marker. "Keep that in mind," you say, as you scoot down the aisle and show him the stock of Ohuhu brand markers, "and compare it to this." You select a similar color to the Classic in the Ohuhu brand, and tap the price sticker. A far more reasonable 2.49 credits.

He scratches the back of his head and neck. "What the kriff…? Is there a significant difference in the brand or something?" He's not exactly all that artistically inclined like you are, so to him, he's not sure if there's anything he's seeing that warrants such sticker-shock for a damn marker. 

"Just the name, really. Copic markers aren't really the end-all-be-all of alcohol-based art markers anymore. Ohuhu branded markers are just as good as Copics, and you get more markers for say… fifty credits in Ohuhus than Copics." you explain, putting the markers back in their respective slots. "I won't bore you with more details that go into it, but that's the bare bones of it." 

Cross nods politely to indicate he's listening to you, lifting a pack of art markers off the display to give it a closer look. Once he has satisfied his curiosity, he puts it back and glances at the different sketch pads. "And these probably tell you what they're best suited for, somewhere." You confirm his thought with a simple nod, tapping one of the sketchbooks. Drawing pad, 64 pages best suited for graphite, marker and colored pencils. 

"They'll often tell you either on the cover, or on an inside page, sometimes. Depends on the brand."

You're getting the feeling that maybe Cross is looking for something after all, but he won't admit it to you. He keeps asking you question after question as you go down each aisle of the store. If there's a section dedicated to a particular craft you're not very familiar with, the two of you just look at the items in silence for the most part. You're (pun not entirely intended) pouring over all the different resin supplies together when Crosshair asks you another question to break the silence. 

"Do you ever show your art online? Some kind of… creative forum, or something? Or is it all just personal projects, like the portraits you've done for Rex and the one you're trying to do for Hardcase?" 

You chew your bottom lip for a moment as you mull over what you'll say. "I… stopped. For a long time." 

"Why?" 

You huff softly, returning one of the unusual resin molds back to the shelf. Little space shuttles and UFOs and such. (Space travel… wouldn't that be something?) "I couldn't get out of the trap of comparing myself to others. I don't know if you could call it imposter syndrome, or anxiety, or what. But I just felt… small. Unnoticed. Invisible." Crosshair frowns, stepping closer to you to allow someone with a large cartful of yarn and children's paint sets squeeze past. She looked like a teacher, gentle and kind and so, so tired. But she gave the pair of you a kind smile as she moved down the aisle and pondered over the different bags of beads one could buy in bulk for crafts. 

"That's the second time you've used that word, [____]." 

You give him an inquisitive look, surprised by his statement. The rare use of your name. "Wh-what word?" 

"Invisible." Crosshair answers, closing that gap between you further when his hand reaches out to cup your face for a moment to scrutinize you, study you. "Is that how you feel?" 

"I guess?" you start, but you think a little more, and you find that, yes, sometimes you do feel invisible. "I feel like… people don't… notice me. Like I'm trying to do it all damn wrong. It's been fucking weeks and places won't call me back! Or I'll post things and it gets a handful of interactions when I put the effort into it, but the shit I don't, that's what fucking blows up and goes viral. I don't fucking get it and I… sometimes I just don't know why I bother trying to apply myself when I'm just… invisible and unseen. This shit sucks, Cross." you admit a little bitterly. You take a deep breath and apologize for swearing in the store, in case the other customers can hear you. You apologize again when the tears begin to prickle and well in the corners of your eyes for getting so worked up, but you're just kind of at a loss for what to do next. You've tried so many things… you just feel like you're talking to yourself because no one will answer your applications. 

Crosshair doesn't say anything for a while, and you don't take it to heart. He's not the chattiest of your housemates, as you learned a long time ago. Sometimes, he did have things to say, but he wanted to take some care with his words if Cross sensed he needed to be a little more delicate. 

And he could be surprisingly good at being delicate when the need arises.

Assuringly, tenderly, Crosshair brushes the tears from your eyes and motions for you to follow him. "I see how much this stuff matters to you. If a stuffy old art store can't see it, just know that I see it. You're not invisible to me, kid. I see you." He's brought you to the paint section, coming to a stop in front of the selection of oil paints in particular. 

"I may not understand all of… this," he gestures broadly at the display of thick, silver-foil tubes of paint, and selects a beautiful cerulean blue off the rack, "but I see how much this means to you. You know your shit. You're getting better all the time. I see that. One day, I think people will see that you know your shit too, and you won't have to feel so invisible anymore. But I see you. Hunter, and Wrecker and Tech, and- your friends see you, doll. You've got such a passion for these things… but you're…" 

You wait for him to continue for a moment, wondering what he wants to say. You decide to hazard a guess when all he can offer is a soft shrug when he finds himself at a loss for words. "Beating myself up, too much…?" You eye the tube of paint in his hands, and wonder for a moment why he's been taking so many things off the shelves only to look at them before putting them back in their proper place. Tech's told you Cross has sharp eyesight, perhaps more on the farsighted side if anything. (Was he more farsighted than you initially assumed?)

"Perhaps." Cross admits, softly juggling the tube in the palm of his hand. "If nothing else I said sticks with you… I just hope that the fact that I see and recognize your efforts does, doll. I know I'm only one person, but sometimes, just hearing it from one person is all we need." 

You feel your cheeks pinch with a little smile hearing him say that. One of those things, one of those times where someone says exactly what you needed to hear when you didn't know you needed to hear it most. "That's… awfully nice of you to say, Crosshair. Thank you…" 

"I should give some credit to Mayday," Crosshair admits with a soft laugh, now pulling a tube of cobalt and ultramarine blue off the shelves, "he's the one who's been encouraging me to… do what feels right, if he thinks I'm feeling a little lost between the odd job. And doing what feels right includes helping you restart that portrait of Hardcase if you really think you need to trash the first one." 

"Is that why you keep grabbing all those different blues?" you giggle, watching him now idly shuffle three different tubes of blue oil paint in his hands. 

Crosshair nodded, making you laugh as he grabbed a fourth tube with a wink. "Yeah. I noticed that you didn't have these blues back at home. And that you use phthalo blue a lot like a certain painter." 

"Are you comparing me to Bob Ross again?" you tease, stifling a laugh as you make your way to the checkout together. You've been away from your brushes for more than an hour at this point, and you're itching to get back to the process of creating while you still have the time to do as much as you want; before you're hopefully contracted with a job offer and have less time to dedicate to such things. 

"Maybe." he purrs mischievously, ringing up each of the paints before carefully wrapping them up in their own separate plastic bags for the trip home. "If I am, do I get to see you paint?" 

You can only shake your head with a gentle laugh. "We'll see, Cross." 

That's good enough for him, he says as you collect the receipt from the self checkout machine, just so long as you promised you'd give yourself a little more grace and faith that soon enough, you'd get the job offer you wanted. 

Some days will be easier than others… but you'll do your best, you promise. You're pretty sure you can manage that.

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

Tagging: @the-hexfiles who wanted to see some soft!Crosshair <3

Note from Frost: Apparently Mayday got assigned some kind of "Work Dad who takes care of and looks out for the younger employees" vibes while I was writing this self-indulgent (and mildly therapeutic) quick-fic, lmao. And hopefully, this ends up being good practice for soft!Crosshair down the line, as it comes into play in the next long-form series I'm working on. Yeah maybe it's perhaps a tad too out-of-character, but kriff it. 

[cameliawrites]

1,4, 18

(answering this ask post)

Hi friend!!

1: What is the first fandom you were ever a part of?

Hmmm, this is kind of hard to answer, because, like, what is a fandom? What is being part of a fandom? Six of Crows is the only fandom I've ever written fanfiction for, but I was a childhood nerd so I read all the popular fantasy books - Lord of the Rings, Percy Jackson, HP, Twilight, etc. - and started reading fanfiction in middle school, probably? I've also been a lifelong Star Wars fan, because my parents had the original trilogy on DVD and we had one of those shitty little car-DVD players in my mom's minivan, so my sibling and I would watch them on road trips. :)

4: Pairing that makes no sense to you?

I mean, I feel like it might be too easy an answer, but Darklina, lol. No comment necessary, I think.

18: All-time favorite fanfic?

THIS IS SO HARD. THIS IS SO SO HARD.

Okay, I have to at least list a few of them - gosh this is so much pressure - um - (obviously these are all kanej lol):

to be lost and found (and lost and found again) by halfahint, which is a Vietnam War AU and is so obscenely good???? I sobbed at the ending the first time I read it because it made me feel just as moved as the end of Crooked Kingdom makes me feel, which is a very very high bar to cross.

all in good time by terribletruths, which is post-ROW and just feels like canonical kanej to me. The humor and the tenderness and the hope are all there. I always return to this one. Always always always.

the air you breathe by alltheworldsinmyhead, because kanej daughter is just something that can be so personal... Something about the simple, sweet nostalgia and melancholy in this fic just speaks to me. I could live in this scene forever.

ebb and flood by arbitrarily. This fic is poetry. P O E T R Y.

Between the Lightning-Bug and the Lightning by oneofthewednesdays, because I love Kaz interacting with Mama & Papa Ghafa so much. This whole series is so good - every single fic in it is top-tier.

Homeland by unfortunate17, which is THE "kanej go back to Lij" fic for me. This is THE ONE. I love revisiting this fic.

My Dearest Inej by A_nonnie_mouse. This is my comfort fic. Shh. Don't tell the others. It's just for me. It's my special treat when I need a pick-me-up.

The Last Songbird by Frick6101719, which is an AU where Jordie lives and Kaz works for the Dime Lions and Inej continues to work in the Menagerie. It's dark and harsh and moody and gut-wrenching, yet, at times, light and humorous and hopeful...it makes me FEEL THINGS. I devoured every single chapter as it was posted, and I absolutely couldn't put it down.

The Strangeness of Home by insignificant457, which is THE "Inej returns to the Suli caravan" fic for me. The sequel fic might be even better...I love it so much. I love Inej so much as a character, and this fic does her justice.

I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm by sarathedreamer, because the emotional hurt/comfort is !!!!!!!! And I can't lie, I love a "huddling for warmth" trope fic. It just hits different.

don't let it burn, don't let it fade by apropensityforcharm, which is THE kanej sickfic for me. The ending is just such great emotional payoff. Kaz is down so bad for Inej and I eat it up.

Okay, I have to admit that I am SUPER impressed with myself for keeping this list as short as I did. Which sounds insane. But. There we are.

[hils79]

Hils Watches My School President - Ep 3 (part 2)

Aww, is the week of living together over already? :(

I think poor Tinn's brain just went offline

Ooh I didn't put 'go swimming together' on the list

This is like that Star Wars meme

Oh please tell me he actually said that and isn't daydreaming again

NO DON'T WALK IT BACK

Oh apparently they are still living together because the exams aren't over yet. YES PLEASE SLEEP ON THE BED WITH HIM.

Oh my god it's happening

Oh no their roles have reversed and I'm feeling emotional about it

Gosh, he is very pretty

Ooh is Gun having feelings now too? Excellent.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

Krissy!! For fic rec asks: 👀 💯

Hi Danni! Since I've been reading fic whenever I do have the time and bouncing between Harry Potter and Teen Wolf, I'll leave a rec from each fandom for each question. Those who know me well know I love my hurt/comfort and angst, so here are my recs:

👀 A fic that you love a normal amount Uhhhh, what? Do I really have one of those? Okay maybe I'll treat this as what is a fic I can just be happy about.

>> HP: A Journey Home by edelweissmar (Perciver, T, 28k) is a classic reread for me. I love it because it's such a unique take on things post-war, and Percy and Oliver discover that they're each other's anchors in a way, despite the challenges they face. Oliver is so determined to never give up, and Percy learns to let go of his guilt, love himself and let someone love him. This fic is a beautiful tale, and it doesn't shy away from family drama and all the damage the war has caused for everyone. People are flawed, it's 1000% possible for them to embrace that. >> TW: Written in the Stars by Quixoticity (Sterek, M, 26.6k) is a fic I am totally happy to read and love because it's about soulmates and tattoos, and I love the approach that was taken to explore the path of two people getting to know each other rather than being obligated by marks. What if feelings and a relationship were sparked by choice rather than expectations? What if the romance and attraction between Stiles and Derek was genuine. Yes, yes, yes to all of this. It's sweet and angsty with pining, and I'm glad they eventually use their words and figure things out for themselves.

💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals >> HP: I basically love agentmoppet's fics, and Like Clockwork (Drarry, E, 39.3k) legit checks all my boxes. But also: this fic has such amazing worldbuilding especially behind how magic works, cursebreaking, and gosh, I am so impressed with this case fic since I definitely cannot write those. I love the banter between Harry and Draco (especially Draco's sass), because every time I reread this fic, it makes me realize why I love these characters so much with their feelings and ridiculous tension. Also, dreams and tricky spellwork! >> TW: OKAY. So I just finished The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (Sterek, E, 82.9k) and holy crap! Amazing. It's heartbreaking, gorgeous, addresses mental health, healing and it's something I just really needed right now. There's worldbuilding, OCs that I've grown to love, and the way Stiles and Derek come together again is the perfect slow burn, I can probably scream about it all day. And I probably will in a separate rec post, because this is a fic that flows so well, it pulls at emotions, and gods, it would be so awesome to write like this. Like, how?!! ANYWAY.

Thanks for the asks! ___ Want to ask more q's? Send some over from the fic recs ask meme!

[madameminor]

Geek Therapy Light - Debrief

So, after these last few days of ouch, I'm sitting on some feels.

That really hurt, charlie. And it's still hurting.

I didn't see a single person telling anyone to get over themselves, Tech is just a character, you can just write a diff ending , GOSH. So I would like to just validate, AGAIN, that anyone who felt some type of way about the Tech Phee pabu episode, your emotions are totally ok and valid. Any one who was giving you shit then and not now is, well, missing something.

I went to work and was honest with everyone about what happened. I don't hide my geeky, I wear clone earrings every day and parade my loungefly star wars bag everywhere cause I love it so, but I still wasn't sure how this would go down. My coworkers didn't laugh at me (they smiled), or tell me to get over it, or anything like that. They all went "awww, I'm sorry Mads" and let me show them pictures and be in a low mood. I was so grateful that day for my work, and my friends, and the people I have surrounded myself with in life. I could feel sad about this thing I was embarrassed to admit I liked not too long ago.

I want more of that in my life. I don't want to play with people who can't let me be all of me.

[starbeltconstellation]

Rewrite the Stars

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Modern Girl! OC

Prologue

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.

—William Faulkner

˚・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.｡��

"Isn't it sad how his life will turn out?" Linda Bains sighs, bottom lip pulling out in a pout as she leans back into the white pillow of the hospital bed.

The portable dvd screen on Linda Bain's lap flashes by with Anakin Skywalker's face on it, taking in his baffled and serious face as he mutters an, "We lost something", before flashing on to Obi-Wan Kenobi's sarcastic response.

"Mom, he is literally space Hitler." Melanie Bains mumbles into her mother's shoulder, body tucked into her side as she lays with her on the hospital bed. Her words have no heat to them though. She just sounds simply amused.

"Oooh, but that hair though." Her mother says, fanning herself. "You know, if I were healthy and twenty years younger—"

"Mom!" Melanie cuts in with a squeal of embarrassment, and Ms. Bains simply laughs.

"Gosh, you're so serious, honey," Ms. Bains chuckles. "You gotta lighten up a li—"

Her mother suddenly chokes off into a series of hacking coughs, and Melanie scrambles from the bed to get a glass of water.

Ms. Bains tries to wave her away, but Melanie will have none of it, wrapping her mother's fingers around the cool glass and lifting it to her lips.

"Drink slow." Melanie warns.

Ms. Bains gives her daughter a roll of her eyes, but says nothing as she takes a slow gulp of the water. She hands it back over to her daughter and Melanie sits it off to the side table before she perches carefully on the bed again.

"Better?" Melanie asks, eyeing her mother carefully.

"Yes, honey." Her mother stresses, looking a little miffed. "Gosh, it was just a little cough. There was no need for you to get up from the bed." Her mother suddenly sighs, looking morose. "I didn't mean to ruin our Star Wars marathon."

"Mom, you didn't ruin anything." Melanie reassures. "You can't help being sick."

"I could help with being in this dang bed or not." Ms. Bains mutters under her breath, crossing her arms and gazing to one side, looking petulant.

"Mom..." Melanie warns, voice tinging with something like pain. "You promised."

The bright hospital room has a moment full of stubborn silence.

Then Ms. Bains sighs, head hanging in resignation.

"I did." Ms. Bains acknowledges, gazing back over at her daughter. "One chemo treatment. But that's all," she stresses, face serious.

Melanie frowns. "But—"

"No buts."

"Mom, this is ridiculous! Why can't you just try—" she starts again, frustration bubbling through.

"I said no, Melanie!" Ms. Bains snaps. "And that's final. I am not going to kid myself with thinking that I'm going to get some miracle cure by doing this when I already have stage four lu—"

Ms. Bains freezes, cutting herself off just short of saying the full dreaded sentence; the one that had been like the dull ringing of an alarm bell in Melanie's ears since she had first heard it from her mother's doctor so long ago now.

Melanie's breath hitches at the reminder. At the clock that seemed to be counting down over her mother's head whenever she looked at her.

Her knees buckle, and she just barely manages to collapse into the chair at her mother's bedside, before she leans over, palms pressing against the growing tears burning behind her eyes.

Silence eats up the room again. And it's stifling, the way the chasm seems to split between the two of them in this moment.

Finally, her mother finds the courage to break it.

"Mel, honey..." Ms. Bains's voice trembles with emotion, clearly affected by her daughter's pain, "I'm not going to get any better. You know that."

Melanie sniffles, lifting her head to gaze up at her mother's eyes.

"Y-You don't kn-know that." she says, bottom lip wobbling at she holds in her tears.

Her mom's hand reaches out and clutches Melanie's shaking shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down soothingly.

"The doctors already told us about the life expectancy rate," Ms. Bains reminds her gently, watching as Melanie's eyes squeeze shut in an effort to block the words out. "It... it just doesn't look good for be, baby." she says, a sad chuckle spilling out from her lips as her face twists into a pained grimace.

"Bu-But... the chemo treatments could—"

"I am not about to leave my daughter with an insane amount of medical bills, just because I couldn't accept what was right in front of me." Ms. Bains interrupts sternly.

Melanie frowns, hand reaching up to clutch at her mothers own that had been rubbing at her shoulder soothingly. "But I don't mind helping you! I could take more rock climbing guide shifts and—"

"—I know you don't mind helping me, Mel." Her mother interrupts. "The point is that I do mind. I mind a lot, actually." she smiles, expression proud. "I'm not going to let you waste your money on me, because you are going to need that money to help build your business—"

"—Mom." Melanie's voice has grown to carry an exasperated edge to it. "Please, be serious—"

"—Oh, but I am being serious." Ms. Bains has a genuine twinkle in her eyes now. "I expect you to finish that poetry manuscript before I'm dead, you know—"

"Mom!" Melanie snaps, expression pained. "Please, can we just... look, maybe you're right, but can we just please not talk about that right now?"

That thing, as in her mother's death.

Her mother's hand comes up to wipe the tear tracks that rolled down Melanie's cheeks without her knowledge.

Melanie's eyes squeeze shut in pain at the next words that are spoken.

"We'll have to talk about it eventually, baby." Ms. Bains says, as gently as she can with Melanie's fragile mental state.

Silence. Then—

"I know." Melanie murmurs, voice cracking.

Melanie sniffles again, and Ms. Bains's face seems to break open.

Ms. Bains opens her arms wide. "Hey, come here."

Melanie crawls again into her mother's hospital bed, clutching to her tightly.

She doesn't know why, in this moment, it finally occurs to her that she only has a limited amount of time left each day to hug her mom.

A dark, haunting fear seems to slide over her, swallowing her up.

How is she supposed to live without her?

A wounded sound escapes her, and then she starts to sob like a child, face burrowing into her mom's shoulder like she could bury herself there.

She feels as fingers curl through her hair, stroking the back of her head in a calming gesture.

"Mel."

Nothing. She is inconsolable.

"Mel, honey, look at me."

Melanie continues to sob, squeezing her mom tightly to her.

Finally, the body she has been leaning against starts to sit up, and Melanie is forced to move along with it as her mother pushes both herself and her daughter up.

"Melanie." Ms. Bains's voice echoes around the room firmly, commanding attention now.

"W-What?" she hiccups, voice full of tears as she raises her head up.

She watches as her mom reaches forward to wrap her fingers around the golden heart locket that lays against the column of Melanie's pale throat.

"Do you remember when I gave this to you?" Ms. Bains asks quietly.

Melanie's brows furrow in confusion as she raises a hand to scrub at the tears clouding her vision. Her chest still rises and falls erratically as she tries to get her breathing back under control.

"It... it was for my birthday," she says, reaching up as she fiddles with the chain of the necklace.

"Do you remember why I gave it to you?" Her mother asks again, expression serious.

A beat.

She swallows, lip wobbling as she tells her in a quiet voice, "Y-You gave it to me a few weeks after... after we learned about—"

The cancer.

She can't make herself say the words yet, because it feels like admitting something, like giving into something inevitable if she does. As if she is giving into a doomed fate she cannot escape.

But she does remember what her mother is talking about. A few weeks after learning the devastating truth of her mom's condition, Melanie's birthday had been just around the corner, and embarrassingly enough, she hadn't even remembered until her mom had informed her of it, asking where she wanted to go.

Melanie had already been paranoid about her mom's condition, insisting that it would be perfectly fine to just stay at home for her birthday; maybe get a cake or something later.

And so, that's what they did.

Melanie, in a show of complete ineptitude, had actually assumed that her mom would drop the subject after that.

It wasn't until Melanie had came home, nearly dead on her feet as a tour guide for another rock climbing expedition, that she had been surprised to near tears to see how her house had been transformed into basically a one woman surprise party by her mother, balloons and streamers everywhere.

After a good hug and cry, her mother had sat her down to give her a present.

And, inside a black velvet box, had been the gold heart locket that laid around her neck now.

Melanie's mother fiddles more with the necklace now as they both sit sprawled out on the hospital bed.

"I told you that the locket had an inscription in it." Ms. Bains murmurs, still staring down at it, her eyes somewhere far away.

Melanie swallows again, a lump building in her throat at the reminder.

"I told you..." Her mother says, "...that the inscription would be something to keep with you. Something to remind you of me, even after..."

Even after I'm gone.

Her mom pauses, looking down, before she purses her lips in determination, lifting her face back to look at Melanie's. "You asked me what good it would do to have an inscription in it that you wouldn't even be able to see after you had put in a picture, and I told you that the inscription wasn't meant to be seen all the time."

She feels the clink of metal as her mom lets go and the necklace falls firmly back into place over the top of her collarbone.

She feels it again as her mom taps the locket with her finger in emphasis of her next words.

"The inscription; the words, are meant to be felt. Because even if you can't see them, you still know they're there with you."

Melanie stares, eyes burning with tears again, as her mom's lips twist into a sad smile.

"Just a little bit away." Ms. Bains finishes, voice shaking with emotion.

Slowly, the wide, gaping chasm of dark fear that had been swallowing Melanie started to pull back. She gazed at her mom, green eyes slowly unclouding, the dull ache in her chest easing with every moment.

Melanie's fingers slid down the chain, down to the locket that lays around her neck, fingers sliding over the cool metal gently.

The locket; the inscription inside it, was her anchor keeping her to the shore.

Melanie realizes, slowly, in this moment, that she has to let her mom go.

She could beg and plead for her mom to continue with the chemotherapy, and maybe, if she cried hard enough, her mom would give in.

But it wouldn't be right.

Her mom wouldn't be happy. She already wasn't happy, hooked up to as many machines as she was now, when all she wanted to do was be at home and live what was left of the rest of her life.

She finds herself finally acknowledging something that she had refused to consider before.

This; all of this— the months Melanie had spent working overtime to raise enough money to convince her mother to get a round of chemotherapy, had been about her.

She hadn't wanted to let go. And, even though she knew her mom hadn't wanted to, she had convinced her to come anyways.

This, it wouldn't cure her.

It was just delaying the inevitable.

Melanie lets out a breath, finally accepting it.

"You'll always be here." she says quietly, voice weak as her fingers slowly wrap around her mom's pale hand.

Ms. Bains lips twitch into a sad smile, murmuring:

"Just a little bit away."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Melanie's hand slams against the jagged edge of rock that sticks out from around the mountain she is strapped to with her rock climbing gear, blonde strands of hair sticking to her neck as sweat seeps down her face.

She hisses, almost yanking her hand back at the sharp sensation that hits the top part of her palm.

Shit.

She cut herself.

She had been careless, her mind elsewhere as she worries, even now, over her mom's condition.

She curses outwardly, gritting her teeth, upper muscles straining as she struggles to pull herself the last bit of climbing rope and to the top of the mountain.

She growls lowly in frustration as her muscles start to shake. She knows this is dangerous. She should stop and take a break. But there was some stubborn part of her that refused to give into that temptation at the moment. It was almost as if she was trying to prove something to herself in this moment, now that she had finally decided to let her mom go, when the time came.

It was almost as if, if she made it up this mountain, she could make it through anything, even with her mother one day no longer by her side.

"Fuck, come on," she groans, shoes digging into the flattest edges of the mountain as she struggles to lift the rest of her body up.

Finally, her head just barely managed to peek over the top part of the mountain. She blinked, green eyes squinting against the bright light that suddenly burned over the top of the mountain.

While still holding onto the climbing rope, her other hand, which had still been digging into the rock wall under her head, blindly reached up to push against the flat surface of ground now near her.

Her upper body screamed in protest, but Melanie would not quit, face all but flattened into the dirt of the ground as she heaved her body over the last bit of rock wall.

"Fuck. Fuuuuck." she says, chest heaving as she lays there for a moment, face still smushed into the ground.

She groans slowly rolling over onto her back, peering up at the blue sky that is filled with swirling clouds.

A sound bubbles from out of her chest; a burst of breathless giggles.

"I did it." she whispers to herself.

A few minutes pass like that, with Melanie just lying there on the top of the mountain, her feet still dangling off the edge, when she finally starts to pull herself to her feet.

She scoots backwards, ignoring the dirt all over her black tank top and cargo pants, as she unhooks her harness from the climbing rope. Then, she slowly pulls herself to her feet, wobbling for a moment before regaining her balance.

The view is stunning.

No matter how many times she rock climbs, she can never grow tired of this. Of the view. The pure serenity and beauty of nature.

It reminds her of a piece of poetry she had read a while ago, by—what was his name?—oh, yes, E.F. Hayward—while waiting in the hospital waiting rooms for her mother to come back from one of her many checkups.

I love to dwell in forest wild, Where giant pine trees pierce the sky; A beauty spot where Nature smiled—

"A fitting place to live and die," she murmurs, reverently as she gazes out over the horizon as the sun washes over everything down below.

Melanie's hand lifts to shade her face from the blinding sunlight that gleams out over the horizon, just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. Her green eyes gaze with wonder over the wide expanse of greenery and the blue sky that meets it down the middle. And, there, in the background, she can just barely make out the expanse of shining metal towers and buildings, which would lead her back to civilization; to California, when she was finally done with this expedition for the day.

She hadn't been planning to come out here today. She had no rock climbing tours planned today, but her mom's parting words from yesterday must have gotten stuck in her head somehow, without Melanie even realizing it.

Before she left the hospital room last night, she had fussed over her mom a little bit more, almost as if she were a mother hen herself.

"Okay, so you have your blankets—"

"Yes." Her mom had sounded exasperatingly amused.

"The TV is on, your clothes are in the closet whenever you'll need them—"

"Mel—"

"Oh! A drink! Do you need a drink? I'll get you a drink."

"Melanie—" Her mom had just been plain exasperated by that point.

"And don't forget to tell them that you need to take your blood pressure medicine twice a day!"

"Melanie!"

She still remembers how her mouth had snapped shut at that point, in pure shock at her mom's sharp voice ringing throughout the room.

But she had had no reason to be worried. Her mom had only done it to gain her attention.

When Melanie's gaze had finally locked with her mom's, her mother's lips had started to twitch upward into a fond smile.

"Melanie," Ms. Bains had began, speaking slowly and clearly as if to emphasize her point. "I. Will. Be. Fine." She shook her head then, still fondly exasperated. "You worry too much, honey. Live a little!" She grinned, splaying her arms out. "Go on an adventure! But stop sitting here worrying about someone who will be right here when you get back."

Melanie's lips quirk up into a smile, still thinking about those words, even now.

Her mom had always been a free spirit.

She had been an artist to the end, painting to her heart's content, even though the art had never really made her much money.

Melanie wonders sometimes if that's why her mom is so focused on Melanie's own poetry succeeding, where her mom's art had 'failed' at making a living.

It was a nice thought.

But naive, as far as Melanie was concerned.

Melanie had tried, at one point. Had been planning on going to college, getting an art degree. But it just hadn't been in the cards. College was too expensive, and the arts, no matter what kind they were, paintings or poetry or otherwise, just didn't make enough for it to be worth it.

She still wrote her own poetry in her spare time, but it was—was—

A hobby.

Nothing more.

Melanie had worked as a secretary, originally, before all of this. It had paid alright, but after learning of her mother's condition, she had scrambled to get some type of job that would pay even the slightest bit more.

Rock climbing had been a surprise.

If you had told her, two years ago, that she would be climbing even ten feet off the ground, she would have laughed in your face.

But she had done it. Had taken the job, from an old high school friend that had suggested it to her, and while it would never be what her true happiness was—

She... enjoyed it. To an extent.

She liked the thrill of the climb; of the ache in her muscles.

But, most of all, she loved the view she had once she made her way to the top.

It was her artist eye, as her mother called it.

Whatever it was, she was glad she decided to come up here today, before visiting her mother in the hospital; was glad that she had taken this little adventure.

Her mom had never gotten to have that.

It was at that moment, that Melanie had the strangest thought.

Why not bring some of the adventure to her?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

She had passed by this shop before, one too many times, as she had walked around the hospital building to get back to her car that would be parked down the road.

She remembers the first time ever laying eyes on it.

She had been in a rush to park her car and race down to the hospital after dropping her mom off at the front door.

The bright lights surrounding the small display window drew her eye, and her gaze had flickered over quickly to read the sign that had been perched precariously in the window.

Come inside and go on an adventure!

And then she had been off again, the words and the shop sent to the back of her mind.

Until now.

Melanie takes in the swirling carving designs that have been engraved into the wood of the entrance door of the shop.

It was—what would her mom have called it?

Vintage. That was a good word.

The antique shop was small, the building almost seeming to have been squeezed between the hulking masses of the two fancier stores next to it; almost as if it had been placed there as an afterthought, and not something that had been there beforehand.

Melanie sighs, turning her mind back to the task at hand.

While most people would be more than happy with a stuffed animal or flowers for a get well present, Melanie knows her mother is different.

Her mother had always much preferred things that were old and had seen the passage of time go by.

Hopefully I'll be able to find something in here that she likes. Melanie thinks, pushing open the swirl engraved wooden door and stepping into the antique shop.

The ding of the bell above the door registers dimly in her ears as she looks around the small store.

It was actually a little bigger than she was anticipating.

The ceiling was fairly high up, with rows of strange, sparkling crystals hanging from thick wire attached to the roof.

The shop was spread out; most of the rows of nicknacks and old-timey relics moved to the side walls.

Not a speck of hardwood floor could be seen. The floor of the shop was filled with dozens of carpets and rugs strewn about the building.

The middle area of the building was empty, left clear for customers to roam about and to go up to the front desk ahead to check out items or to ask questions.

Speaking of—where was the person at the front desk?

She frowns, growing confused.

The sign did say open until 7:00pm, right? She thinks to herself, growing worried. It would be disappointing to have to leave. She knows her mom would love this place.

Melanie clears her throat, before awkwardly saying, rather loudly, "Hello?"

She stops. Waits. But there is nothing. All that can be heard in the eerie silence of the shop is the slow tick, tick of a pendulum clock that hangs near the right wall behind the front desk.

She thinks, in this moment, about leaving and maybe coming back tomorrow.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason she cannot name, Melanie decides to stay.

She walks forward, taking in the rows of shelves near the left wall. Two are filled to the brim with leather books that look to be falling apart at the edges.

She lifts a hand and takes one off the shelf, coughing and waving her hand in disgust at the cloud of dust that flies off the shelf at that moment.

"Doesn't anyone clean in here?" Melanie says out loud, quite aware she is speaking to no one.

She opens the book to check what the story is about, what with the cover having been worn off ages ago with overuse.

Alice in Wonderland, the front page shows, and Melanie sighs in disappointment.

"Ah, Mom already has this one." she mutters, putting the old book back on the shelf.

She walks around to look at the other two shelves behind the books, briefly glancing over at old-timey looking figurines and jewelry, but nothing seems to catch her eye to something her mom might be interested in.

Minutes fly by like this, with Melanie wandering around the shop and glancing from shelf to shelf, but nothing seems to be the perfect thing she is hoping to find.

What is she even searching for?

She supposes that she doesn't really know.

Something that says, I love you. That I care. That I pay attention to the things you enjoy.

Something that feels like a piece of an unknown story has been brought before her, awaiting to be revealed.

Well, she supposes that is a bit of a tall order.

Still, there has to be something— she continues to think, green eyes furrowing in frustration as she glances around, before suddenly freezing as something that glints in the sunlight that pierces through the curtains of the display window catches her eye.

It's a beautifully designed and painted music box. It sits perched inside the display of a large curio cabinet that stands near the corner of the shop, right by the front desk.

But, what's so astounding is that it isn't just any type of music box.

No. It can't be...

But it is.

The Music box that lays trapped inside the glass is a stunningly detailed Star Wars themed music box.

But it was more than just a box. It was a replica. A beautiful handcrafted replica of the characters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, both of their blue lightsabers crossed in the throes of battle.

Both of the figures stood above the flattened red of the bottom of the music box, which was painted with red and carved into simmering waves of lava that raged around them; a clear reference to the battle between the two men at Mustafar.

But, see, that—that isn't what's so strange.

What's strange is how—how ancient it looks.

It doesn't look like something that had been made with the material from the modern era. It looks as if it was something that was made centuries ago. It was in wonderful condition, but it still had a type of antique look to it that could not be hidden.

And it was so—

So detailed! Melanie thinks, her eyes widening in pure amazement as she leans forward to look at the music box, squinting to get a better look past the glass that continues to gleam from the sun pouring in from the main window.

She huffs in frustration at the stupid light, looking around again for a moment, and, when she still sees no one, carefully opens the curio cabinet's glass door to get a better look.

Carefully, she picks up the music box with gentle fingers, mindful of the top of the figurines accidentally hitting against the top of the cabinet as she pulls it out to get a better look.

"Wow..." she whispers in awe, trailing off as her fingers run over the smooth surface of the material. She wonders what it could be made out of that gave it this ancient look, while still allowing the colors to shine through as well as it does.

Up close, the details are even better than she imagined. Anakin and Obi-Wan's figures were painted and carved with the most painstaking care. The curves and lines of each point of their Jedi attire were taken into account when making the design for each of them. The lightsabers they grip in their hands are no different, the hard plaines of metal that went into the design of each lightsaber was shown in the finest detail as Melanie squinted at them.

But what was really astonishing was the level of detail in each of the men's faces. Both were scrunched up in rage and pain, but, if one looks close enough, you can still see the higher level of rage that must have been engraved and painted into Anakin's eyes.

She grins widely.

This is perfect! Her mom will love it!

As gentle as a feather, she slowly moves one hand down to the bottom of the music box to slowly twist the nob that would wind it up—

"Enjoying yourself?"

Fuck!

Melanie jumps, heart thudding in her chest at the unexpected sound.

She turns, guiltily, while still holding the music box, to see the smirking form of an older dark-haired woman behind her, who was dressed in a curious purple themed outfit.

Melanie supposes this is the shopkeeper she had been waiting for before she became distracted looking around.

The nameless woman casually leans one elbow against the front desk as she stands there, seemingly amused with Melanie's discomfort.

Melanie stutters in embarrassment at having been caught taking the music box from its glass case. "I—I am so sorry, I was just—"

"Well, now don't stop on my account, hun," The Shopkeeper says, lips pulling upwards into a full grin. She raises a hand, gesturing for Melanie to continue.

A beat. They stare at each other.

The Shopkeeper raises an eyebrow.

Melanie finally manages to snap out of it and look back towards the object in her hand.

"I—I really am sorry," she starts again, leaning over to gently put the music box back in its rightful place in the curio cabinet. "It's just so beautiful—"

"—Nothing to apologize for." The Shopkeeper croons, leaning up to slowly stroll towards her, and Melanie has no idea why, but she suddenly feels as if she is in the clutches of a predator. "It calls out to most people." she murmurs, coming to a stop beside Melanie's form as she gazes beyond the glass to look at the music box herself.

Still, Melanie was lucky she hadn't broken it. Who knows how expensive the damn thing is.

Speaking of which—

"By the way," Melanie begins, "I w-was just—wondering, I suppose—how much something like this is?"

The Shopkeeper turns to her, arms crossing over her chest as she stares into Melanie's face, as if she is looking at something beyond her physical form, and is judging it accordingly.

Silence.

"You know, like to buy." she clarifies, thinking perhaps the woman had misunderstood her.

A moment, as the nameless woman's dark and empty eyes gaze at her own.

Then, there is a blink, and it's as if the yawning emptiness had never been there at all.

"To buy?" The Shopkeeper chuckles, placing a hand on her chest, sounding very amused. "Oh, no, no, no, honey; I'm afraid this just isn't for sale."

Melanie blinks, gaping, as the rug is seemingly pulled out from under her.

She watches as The Shopkeeper struts by her and back around to the other side of the front desk.

"B-But!" Melanie stutters, turning and all but chasing after the woman, "But I don't understand. It's in the shop. Why would it be here if it isn't for sale?"

The Shopkeeper seems unbothered by her plight, simply grinning and shrugging her shoulders.

"I like to keep around the objects of my ire." The Shopkeeper says, confusing Melanie even more. "It reminds me to stay on my toes."

And Melanie, she should really let this go, she doesn't really understand why she is continuing to push this so much, but—

But it's perfect. Melanie thinks, eyeing the music box despairingly as it sits locked behind glass once again.

She'll never find anything else that her mom will love so much. And she wants to do this—now that she has excepted the inevitable—she wants to get something that her mom will remember forever, because Star Wars had been something her mom has loved since she was a child.

"Look, I can't pay an ungodly amount, but I do have some savings saved up—" she says, leaning against the glass of the front desk, but her mouth snaps shut as The Shopkeeper raises her hand in a zip it gesture.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The woman says, raising a finger and pointing it at Melanie chidingly, "Not. For..."

The Shopkeeper leans across the desk, poking Melanie on her nose like a child.

"Sale!" The Shopkeeper finishes, smiling brightly at Melanie's befuddled expression.

Melanie blinks once, and then sighs, deflating like a balloon as she accepts defeat.

"Okay. Fine," she accepts, giving in as she struggles to move on from the stunning music box, "I'm trying to get a present for my mom who's been in the hospital. She's always really been into the arts and old antique collections like this place," she says, gesturing around at the building.

"Ah! Wanting to bring a bit of the adventure to her, huh?" The Shopkeeper says, eyebrows wiggling a little as she references the sign outside.

Melanie gives a half-hearted smile. "Something like that."

The Shopkeeper hums, tapping a finger to her chin, a small smirk appearing on her lips. "You know... I don't usually do this, but I could get you an adventure book from one of my personal collections. For the right price, of course."

Melanie's lips dip downwards just the slightest bit. "Of course."

Maybe this was a mistake.

"Would you like me to bring a stack out for you to choose from?" The Shopkeeper asks.

"You have them here?" Melanie questions, face confused.

"Why, of course I do, dear!" The Shopkeeper exclaims, chuckling at her expression. "What do you think I was doing while you were bumbling around in here?"

Melanie's face turns pink as she ducks her head, mumbling embarrassingly to herself as The Shopkeeper laughs again in amusement.

"Just wait right here for a moment!" The Shopkeeper tells her with a smirk, before turning and walking down the dark hallway to the back of the store where employees would usually go.

Melanie sighs, standing there for a moment as she waits.

Seconds tick by, and, slowly, her gaze turns back to the curio cabinet with the music box locked inside it.

She isn't pouting.

Okay, so maybe she is just a little bit.

She turns and slowly makes her way back over to the glass cabinet, staring at the music box forlornly, when she has a thought pass over her.

Maybe she can't buy the music box, but she can still take a picture of it to show her mom, at least.

Melanie perks up a little, feeling better about the situation.

She takes her phone out of her pocket, pulling up the camera on her phone and pointing it towards the music box.

But, as she goes to take the picture, the camera won't focus. The glare of the sunlight continues to gleam off the glass cabinet in front of the music box, ruining the picture.

Melanie grumbles under her breath in frustration.

She glances over her shoulder to where the Shopkeeper had gone a moment ago, biting her lower lip in thought.

It'll just take a second.

Carefully, she opens the glass door of the cabinet again. As she pulls her phone out now, the camera focuses easily on the beautifully crafted music box.

Click.

The flash goes off as she takes the picture, and Melanie grins.

There. Perfect.

But then, before she can put her phone down, the picture starts to move.

Except, it's not the picture, Melanie realizes, as she slowly lowers her phone to gaze into the glass cabinet.

It's the music box. Somehow, without her even touching it, the thing has started to wind itself up without Melanie even realizing it.

Another click.

Soft, gentle beats of twinkling music start to emit from the music box. It—It almost sounds like—

Star Wars, she thinks wildly, heart thudding.

And then, the two figurines of Anakin and Obi-Wan begin to move, the engraved circular red lava they are on moving with them as they start to spin in circles; the slow, mechanical movements of their arms going back and forth, back and forth as they bang their lightsabers together in a battle of wills.

There is a dull ringing in her ears, and she feels, somehow, again, that she is on the precipice of something that she cannot escape.

A loud crack echoes through the room.

The figures of Anakin and Obi-Wan start to spin faster and faster.

Another ear splitting crack. Then another and another, when Melanie finally sees that it is the music box itself that is cracking, and not anything else around it.

The red ceramic lava that the spinning figures are fighting on has started to break.

Small, glowing fractures start to appear more and more as the music box seems to start rupturing in on itself.

Her hand lowers. She hears a thud as something falls to the ground.

She continues to stare, with an almost morbid fascination, as the music box starts to shake, an eerie green glow starting to gleam through the chinks in its armor.

All the while, Obi-Wan and Anakin spin faster and faster.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

Melanie's head snaps over.

And for a moment, The dark-haired Shopkeeper is there, face twisting into a snarl as she leers behind the front desk.

And then, a flicker, and in the Shopkeeper's place is a snarling creature with large claw-like hands and a maw with a row of sharp teeth that stretches from ear to ear.

Melanie opens her mouth to scream, but she never gets the chance.

Reality bends around her.

And then everything explodes.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aaaannnd... cue Star Wars Theme! Lol.

Mel: Can I touch the music box?

The Shopkeeper: Of course! :)

Mel: Can I have it?

The Shopkeeper: No! 😡 Not for sale!

Mel: Why the fuck would you show it to me if I can’t have it?!! 😭😑

[incomprehensiblelentils]

I posted 4,186 times in 2022

That's 590 more posts than 2021!

89 posts created (2%)

4,097 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@purlturtle

@mystery-ink

@theomenroom

@loved-the-stars-too-fondly

@jenny-dreadful

I tagged 3,421 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#fuck - 247 posts

#lmao - 171 posts

#animals - 163 posts

#art - 158 posts

#stories - 151 posts

#omfg - 141 posts

#eels - 128 posts

#goncharov - 102 posts

#the magnus archives - 91 posts

#oh my god - 81 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#lol my college roommate’s dad said ‘’i feel like you’re hiding something bc you keep looking around the room while you talk and not at me’’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hey how fucking dare Jake just casually say “tell me your feelings and I’ll tell you I need you” IN A SHORT REST WHILE NOT ACTUALLY RP’ING AS HARDWON AND NOBODY COMMENTED ON IT I’M????????????? just casually busting out one of the most romantic lines I’ve ever heard like it’s nothing Jesus Christ

50 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

#4

If I ever write a sex scene that doesn’t involve some element of praise kink, it’d be one of those “things I post to clue my followers in that I’ve been kidnapped” memes

77 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

#3

I lost the post I was trying to reblog about how it’s sexist of fandom to make jokes about the token lady character of a particular media being the Braincell Holder of the male-majority group, but what I was gonna say was the great thing about NADDpod is that in every single campaign the Braincell Holder is absolutely NOT the lady PC under any circumstances. Emily Axford would NEVER

77 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

#2

i need recommendations for some lesbian movies. My wife wants to watching something gay, but is tired of gay men's movies

oh gosh I am so sorry I'm just now getting to this - I was out of town the whole weekend and got back yesterday evening, when my brain was melting out my ears from the heat. without further ado!

I have categorized this list into a few sections:

Well-Made/"Good" Movies I Can Vouch For

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019): you have probably heard of this, but in case you haven't, it's a French historical drama about a painter who is commissioned to do a wedding portrait for a reluctant bride-to-be. It's lush, emotional, bittersweet, and breathtakingly shot. Content warnings: mention of a minor character's suicide, brief abortion scene featuring a secondary character, one scene of the leads doing drugs together.

Saving Face (2004): This is a lovely film about a young Chinese surgeon who is juggling her secret relationship with the drama her mother causes. Content warnings: intergenerational trauma.

Carol (2014): Again, you've probably heard of this one - it's another historical drama, this one based on Patricia Highsmith's novel The Price of Salt. A young aspiring photographer is captivated by a mysterious woman named Carol. After Portrait came out I find myself not as enamored of this one (I think Rooney Mara is not very good in it lmao), but it's a lovely film worth a watch. Content warnings: period-typical homophobia, Carol's shitty husband.

The Half of It (2020): From the director of Saving Face, this is a high-school coming of age movie inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac, in which a second-generation Chinese girl ends up volunteering to write love letters to her crush, "from" the jock who is also in love with said crush. Some really beautiful stuff about immigrant Chinese families in here, and I was really touched by the friendship between the two leads. Content warnings: racism, homophobia, bullying, intergenerational trauma.

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017): This is based on the life of William Marston, creator of Wonder Woman, and his partners Elizabeth and Olive. I am given to understand that the relationship between the two women was probably not romantic IRL, but I really love the way the movie treats both the triad and the women as a couple. I also think the BDSM stuff is cute. Content warnings: age gap/power differential romance (two professors and their TA), homophobia including a brief violent attack, brief cancer subplot towards the end of the film.

Summerland (2020): A WWII movie about the bond between a reclusive writer and the young boy she is reluctantly forced to care for due to the London evacuations. I will spoil this for you because it gave me severe anxiety: the lesbians both live to the end, and they get to raise their son together! My main complaint is not enough Gugu Mbatha-Raw. Content warnings: WWII imagery/setting, parent death (offscreen but significant part of the plot), brief child peril.

The Favourite (2018): This is a weird little black comedy about two cousins who are vying to be the favored paramour of Queen Anne in 18th century Britain. It's some fun fucked-up drama. Content warnings: animal abuse/death (toward the end of the film), manipulation, non-consensual drugging.

I Can't Think Straight (2008): I haven't seen this one since college but I remember liking it - it's about two women, one Palestinian and one Indian, who meet and fall in love despite unlikely circumstances. Content warnings: cheating (one character is engaged to a man).

V For Vendetta (2005) - in case you forgot, this has lesbians! Content warnings: torture, attempted sexual assault, hanging, child death, panic attack, homophobia/dead lesbians

Birds of Prey (2020) - Harley Quinn is canonically bisexual! Also I love this movie. Content warnings: cartoonish violence, graphic torture including of a child, child death (implied/heard), implied sexual assault by the villain (of a minor character).

Booksmart (2019): High school comedy about two best friends who decide they're sick of being dweebs and want to go to a cool party before they graduate. I think it's largely delightful and I love the lesbian character's story. However, the subplot with the teacher who has sex with her (19yo) student is BAD and I won't defend it, nor will I judge anyone for wanting to skip based on that. Content warnings: extended non-con drugged sequence (played for laughs/nothing bad happens to them), aforementioned age gap/power differential romance (secondary characters).

But I'm a Cheerleader (1999): Clea Duvall and Natasha Lyonne star in a satire of conversion therapy camps, also featuring young Dante Basco. Personally I think it keeps things light and silly enough not to trigger me with the religious rhetoric. Content warnings: conversion camp setting and corresponding conservative Christian rhetoric, general homophobia, uh, RuPaul is here at one point?

In the Heights (2021): This movie is very much not perfect, chiefly for the colorism in the casting choices. BUT I like that Daniela and Carmen are gay now. Content warnings: racism, prejudice against undocumented individuals, grandparent death.

Movies I Think You Should Watch Maybe - Are They Good? I Couldn't Say!

D.E.B.S. (2004): This is a deeply silly movie about an all-girls' spy school in which the star pupil falls in love with international supercriminal Lucy Diamond, directed by queer icon Angela Robinson and featuring lesbian grandma Holland Taylor as the headmaster. Content warnings: cartoonish (PG-13) gun violence.

Imagine Me & You (2005): This was baby's first f/f movie for me, and so it has a very special place in my heart even though it is Problematic because it's about a lady cheating on her husband with Lena Headey, and also nobody remembered bisexuality exists so they say "lesbian" pretty exclusively and that sucks. Lena Headey and Piper Perabo are so good together though, and I genuinely like everyone in this movie. Content warnings: cheating (one character is married to a man).

Happiest Season (2020): Do not @ me this is MY movie!!! Kristen and Mackenzie are PERFECT. Content warnings: homophobia, manipulative behavior, one weirdly intense interrogation scene with mall cops that frankly should've been cut, mentioned fish death.

A Simple Favor (2018): This movie...it is batshit. If you like trashy drama, you will probably like this movie! Linda Cardellini plays a lesbian artist and I love her so much. Content warnings: manipulation, murder, incest (adult half-siblings not raised together), intense discussion of murder-suicide, gun violence

The Falling (2014): This movie is also batshit and not good, but I need more people to watch it, because I've seen it four times and I have no idea what it's trying to say. It features Maisie Williams and Florence Pugh as British boarding school teens who have an intense "friendship" and then suddenly everyone in the school starts having collective fainting spells. Please, I just need to find the person out there who gets what this movie is doing so they can explain it to me. Content warnings: unexplained medical issues (fainting), seizures, incest (consensual? sex scene), attempted suicide, grief, discussion of sexual assault and trauma therein (secondary character)

A New York Christmas Wedding (2020): This movie is ALSO batshit in a completely different way than the other two, and again, I need someone to explain it to me. It's, uh, sort of It's a Wonderful Life but with a bisexual heroine, and some batshittery along the way? Content warnings: suicide (secondary character), teen pregnancy, weird pro-life vibes, parent death, way too much church, homophobia, Chris Noth

Movies I Haven't Yet Seen Which Have Been Recc'd To Me

Crush (2022)

Pariah (2011)

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (2020)

Fear Street Trilogy (2021)

The Handmaiden (2016)

149 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Wild mass guessing about the theme of the Dimension 20 sidequest being announced tomorrow, loosely ranked from most to least likely with reasoning:

Fairy tale remix (this has been thrown around as a suggestion in fandom before, just seems like a fun idea)

Superheroes (potentially with the Masks system, though I know Chapter and Multiverse is doing a shorter campaign with that system right now)

Unsleeping City spin-off, possibly prequel with mentioned characters (not sure if Brennan would want someone else DMing in this world, I just think it would be neat)

Horror survival campaign (PVP/permadeath more likely with guest players, but might be too intense/dark for the D20 brand. BUT Brennan just DM’d EXU Calamity and was a goddamn nightmare over there)

Mice and Murder s2 with partial or all new cast (possibly new DM, but unsure how popular s1 was comparatively)

Misfits and Magic s2 (Erika and Aabria are very busy but four episodes could’ve been filmed in a couple weekends at most)

Real Housewives RPG DM’d by Izzy Roland (funniest possible option; extremely unlikely)

Warrior cats (I lied. this is the funniest possible option)

206 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[biginvisiblespider]

Oh my gosh she is losing nooo! I am so glad i have wifi back so I can promote her.

Here is some of her speech and it's the best thing tolkien ever wrote I think. Erendis has this air of bitterness as well as resignation that anyone who has ever faced a systemic issue will find very familiar.

Thus it is, Ancalimë, and we cannot alter it. For men fashioned Númenor: men, those heroes of old that they sing of – of their women we hear less, save that they wept when their men were slain. Númenor was to be a rest after war. But if they weary of rest and the plays of peace, soon they will go back to their great play, manslaying and war. Thus it is; and we are set here among them. But we need not assent. If we love Númenor also, let us enjoy it before they ruin it. We also are daughters of the great, and we have wills and courage of our own. Therefore do not bend, Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.

What I find most interesting about this is that it calls attention to one of the most frustrating things about tolkien, the lack of women. It suggests that, in his later writing, tolkien recognised this issue.

So many of the female characters in the silmarillion are barely mentioned, wives that stay behind, daughters that die off-page and mothers who are barely mentioned before they are dead. Erendis - and to a lesser extent Ancalimë - completely breaks this pattern.

She has motives! She has flaws! She is a complete character, much more fleshed out than many of the silm fandom's favourites.

The best thing about Erendis is how realistic she is. At first she ignore the rifts between herself and Aldarion out of love, she marries him even though she knows he will never leave the sea which she hates. She is proud, a descendent of the house of Beor, and when Aldarion returns to her it is her pride as well as Aldarion's that separates them again. She will not forgive him without an apology (and a bit of groveling) and he will not apologise.

She keeps Ancalimë isolated and in her old age she is diminished and that is treated as the tradgedy it is, instead of some punishment for her outspokenness. She 'falls down dim into her own twilight' - a contrast to her earlier role as 'Tar-Elestirnë, the Lady of the Star-brow'.

She dies at the end of the story, after it has become a series of footnotes strung to together and it I only described in a few lines.

'Of Erendis, it is said that when old age came upon her, neglected by Ancalimë and in bitter loneliness, she longed once more for Aldarion; and learning he was gone from Númenor on what proved to be his last voyage but that he was soon expected to return, she left Emerië at last and journeyed unrecognised and unknown to the haven of Rómenna. There, it seems, she met her fate; but only the words 'Erendis perished in water in the year 985' remain to suggest how it came to pass'

Rómenna is the port city of Númenor, so it seems the sea she feared and hated might have been her end.

With Erendis, the story is focused on her life, barely mentioning her death, which is so often not the case for women in tolkien writing.

Anyway you should vote for her even though she doesn't pass the bechdel test because I love her.

I'm sure Bill the pony is as feminist as a pony can be but he doesn't have the emotion behind him that erendis does.

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 3

Erendis vs Bill the pony

Erendis:

A Queen of Númenor, noted for her unhappy marriage to Tar-Aldarion.

Her speech to her daughter about men is generally one of the best things I've read! I don't want to type it all here but some of the greatest hits: (about men) 'Anger they show only when they become aware, suddenly, that there are other wills in the world beside their own.' 'men, those heroes of old that they sing of - of their women we hear less, save that they wept when their men were slain.' 'Therefore do not bend Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink you roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.'

Bill the pony:

Sam Gamgee’s pony.

HE'S SUCH A GOOD AND KIND PONY

Round 3 masterpost

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

can I ask what you miss about 2019? i didn't join until last year...what was it like?

Long rant beneath

The community was just so much bigger than what it was now. There were so many creators pumping out stories and artwork left and right, everything was fresh and original, hell even with Sanders Sides running amok everything was a new concept because you could mix and matched like 8 personalities in any setting you wanted. Fearplay was a lot more popular, too. Everyone made something and everyone reblogged something

But now it's just...stale. It's the same five creators over and over again because everyone else either left on their own or were squeezed out of the community. Everything needed to be fluffy and wholesome, only soft hearted male giants or epic, badass giantesses. Fics can only be 1% angst and 99% comfort, and all of those things are just not my style.

"Well if you don't like it, create your own work" I did and I love Star Wars rip off so much, but pretty quickly once everyone else started leaving I was bled dry because I was one of the few fearplay authors left. If you want constant engagement, you have to post damn near daily, which I normally don't have the luxury of doing seeing as I work full time and write at least 10K

Not to mention the community itself is so clique-y, which I've said before. It's not those same 5 creators fault that they got so popular and everyone only flocks to them, they're just trying to make something that brings them and their friends joy, but I'm so tired of seeing the same fic/art 8 times a day on my dash. Especially when they're character types I already don't care for. And if you're not friends with those creators? Forget having your work seen outside of your mutuals, it's almost like you need those creator's stamp of approval saying "Yep, this is a good post because I like it!"

And I'll be honest, I used g/t as a way to cope with my sexual assaults and baby loss. I liked being able to create dark fics with big, oppressive forces and tiny, helpless victims as a way to vent through both POVs. I liked being in control of the concept of overpowering. And now it's like...that's not allowed. You get messages or comments telling you certain tropes are fucked, or gosh these characters are swell but this would be 10000% better if it was uwu pure sugar fluff. No, I want it to be fucked up, I want to explore darker themes. "But g/t needs to be sfw because it's a comfort!!" Yes. It's my comfort as well, you don't get to gatekeep how I make my OCs act.

Also, being an author in the fandom these days is just harder than it used to be. No one wants to sit down and read a fic, they just want to see the pretty visualizes your or someone else made instead. Before, fics FLOODED the g/t tag and it was as magically as Matilda going to the library for the first time. So many stories at your fingertips! Now it's 90% art, which is fine! Art is beautiful! I've made art myself and I've had lovely followers make art for me which I am incredibly thankful for. But it's like that shortened attention span, you know? Why sit down a read a 20K fic when I can just look at art of the crux scene in 10 seconds and get the whole vibe? You're shit out of luck if you're not a popular artist to begin with.

I could really go on and list specific blogs and the shit they've done, but that's not fair of me to do. It's not intentionally their fault. That's just how the pieces happened to fall I guess. And really right now, I'm eight times more emotional than normal because my hormones are rampaging and slagging me with baby blues. Like I said, g/t used to be my coping mech for this type of thing, but with how the fandom is now, it's just not working like it used to and is making my mood feel even worse because of it.

I may end up taking a hiatus in the very near future, I may even end up retiring this blog altogether because I don't see the point in keeping up with a fandom that doesn't make me happy anymore. I'll sleep on it of course before I make any hasty decisions, I might bounce back in a couple days once my uterus stops making me depressed, but we'll have to see.

Hey, if you made it this far into my rant, please remember to reblog stories from small creators that you like. Please remember to give newbies in the g/t tag a chance instead of waiting for your fav content creator to give the all clear and declare the new work a hit, especially since they're all their own clique and hardly seem to reblog outside of each other anyways (like a little popular club whirlwind). If you want new and fresh content, then you gotta help expand the new and fresh content, otherwise authors aren't going to be as inclined to continue to develop it.

It's been a trip, y'all. Have fun out there

[nowayimdie]

Twisted Wonderland Lyric To be Human by Marina

Floyd: hey~ Koebi-chan may I ask more about your world?

Azul: I have the same question as well

Jack: the only thing we know about your world is Vietnam

Ace: and Japanese

Ortho: please tell us more

Lilia: it would be nice if you would tell me about your world, I have lived a long time but never knew anything about it

Yuu: okay okay, I'm gonna tell you guys more about my world, through a song

Everyone: a song?

Yuu: yeah

Yuu: The pagodas and the palaces dressed in gold leaf

Hide the damages

Malleus: what damages and why hide the damages?

Yuu: Spot the Geisha as she balances

Cater: what's a geisha?

Yuu: Geisha is an artist who is both talented in singing, dancing, and conversing, which is a traditional Japanese entertainment art

Cater: sound fun

Yuu: normally geisha are a girl

Yuu: Life's a cakewalk, full of challenges

Ruggie: Well I mean life is challenging when you have to take care of a lazy lion, like Leona

Riddle: or when you have to take care of two people who share the same brain cells

Jamil: or whe you take care of someone who has no brain but is loved more

Leona:(ㆆ_ㆆ)

Ace:￣へ￣

Deuce:

Kalim:இ௰இ

Floyd: haha got you good

Yuu: Go to Russia, see the Red Square

Jade: Russia? Let me guess it's a another country

Yuu: that's right

Epel: how many countries in your world?

Yuu: 195 countries

Epel: that's a lot

Yuu: I know

Yuu: Lenin's body lying dead there

From Kyoto, Hiroshima

Watch the black cloud crawling nearer

Sebek: black cloud? Do you mean a storm?

Yuu: no more like an explosion

Sebek: GOSH

Yuu: There were riots in America

Just when things were getting better

Vil: a riot? what this riot about?

Yuu: a a riot fighting for BLM

Kalim: BLM?

Yuu: BLM stands for Black Live Matter, which is international social activism, rooted in the African-American community, that campaigns against violence and systemic racism against black people.

Ace: against black people, what's wrong with your world, why do people against black people that don't make sense

Deuce: yeah black people are human too

Yuu: they are against black people because black people have black skin

Deuce: What kind of absurd reason is that?!

Riddle: just because they have black skin that doesn't mean they're bad

Ace: yeah The Queen Of Heart's rule may sound absurd, this is more absurd

Yuu: All the things I've done and seen

Still, I don't know what life means

Cater: well yeah even I don't know the meaning of life

Everyone:...

Jamil: do we need a therapist?

Yuu: All the people living in, living in the world today

Reunited by our love

Ortho: that sounds nice

Yuu: reunited by our pain

Ortho: nevermind

Idia: Ortho you spoke too soon

Yuu: All the things that I've done and I've seen

Still, I don't know, don't know what it means

Yuu: Fly to Athens, pass the Parthenon

Malleus: Parthenon?

Yuu: The Parthenon is a temple dedicated to Athena, built in the 5th century BC

Malleus: I would like to go there

Silver: It would be perfect for me to sleep

Lilia: classic Malleus and Silver

Yuu: See the village where my father's from

To Chicago, from Angola

São Paulo to Verona

Leona: You have a father? I thought you were fatherless

Ruggie: LEONA

Yuu: it's okay

Yuu: And anywhere you go, you'll see

Vil: see what? My beautiful face?

Rook: Yes your beautiful face

Epel: please stop

Yuu: People are just like you and me

Jack: well yeah I mean not really

Yuu: I like to think about how we all look from afar

People driving fancy cars look like beetles to the stars

Kalim: really fancy cars?

Jamil: no Kalim

Yuu: The missiles and the bombs sound like symphonies gone wrong

And if there is a God, they'll know why it's so hard

Trey: missiles and bomb?! were there a war

Yuu: yes

Ace: why do people so believe in God

Yuu: that's my world thing

Yuu: To be human, I want direction

I wanna feel human again

Cater: some people lost their direction and wanna feel emotion

Riddle: okay Cater you need to calm down

Yuu: done

Everyone: What exactly happened to your world?

Yuu: a lot of things

[rein-ette]

Howdy! I'm going to ask your awesome question back at you ;) what do you think of England, both as a character and as a country? Do tell me all of your feelings towards the grumpy man 👀

Short Answer:

To borrow a phrase from my favourite writer/historian Barbara Tuchmann, if Canada is the country of my birth, England has always been the country of my heart.

Long Answer:

I actually fell in love with England the country a long time before I even knew England the character, but Hetalia certainly reinforced my infatuation ten-fold. I can't say when or how it started because I think I was pretty young (I remember my mom making me take notes on Greek and Roman history when I was like, 7, and uh, let's just say my obessession with Europe only grew after that). It's also kinda difficult for me to parse why I like the country because it's been a constant in my life for so long, but I'll try my best.

I think it might have begun with my fascination with WWII history. There's this Chinese idiom -- 乱世出英雄 -- which kinda encapsulates why the world wars and British history in particular so enchanted me. The literal translation of it would be "heroes emerge in turbulent times" but I think a better figurative approximation is the phrase "for darkness shows the stars." The world wars, British participation in the world wars, and British history in general has many, many dark episodes and in many ways exposes the worst of humanity. But I think it's also true that British history also brought out the best of us -- exposed the "heroes", so to speak. I refer not only to household names like Churchill but also the commanders on the ground, the suffragettes, the workers in the factories, and naturally the common soldier. Of course this is not a phenomenon unique to British history, but it was through British 20th century history that I first fell in love with history in general, so it holds a bit of a special place in my heart.

From a more objective perspective, Canadians are really steeped in British culture, ideas, and history, even if we don't realize it. I mean, most of the ideals we embrace, such as the rule of law or constitutional monarchy, as well as the things we celebrate -- the abolishment of slavery, for example -- stem from Britain. One cannot teach Canadian history in school without learning British history, and when you consider that Canada's massive sacrifices in the world wars also played a defining moment in its national identity, it's really no wonder that many still feel a kinship with the UK. Plus, like I mentioned in the response to needcake's ask, a lot of being Canadian is trying to differentiate ourselves from Americans, and one primary way we do that is by pointing to our loyalty to England and shared monarch.

I'm not sure if this is really obvious from the other side of the pond, but Queen Elizabeth also, like, plays a really insidious role. Idk if Aussies or Kiwis feel this way, but we really love Queen Liz and can't imagine a world without her on our money and all our fancy buildings and occasionally making her speeches. I was an air cadet as a teen too! We had to play God Save the Queen for closing parades every night, and I remember thinking, gosh, one day we'll have to sing God save the king, and they'll have to change all the lyrics and coins and bills and what not, and that's really weird.

But yeah, besides the history and the environment in Canada, I also follow British politics to some extent? It's not as common as following American politics here (if you talk to Canadians ab the American president it's not uncommon to hear people say "why did we elect him" etc.) but it isn't rare either. I mean, I read the Economist (no i'm not 10 billion years old) and I've done courses in British politics, read British authors, a lot of people like British actors and films and shows...the culture is just really widespread, I guess. I also have close friends who lived/live in London...oh, and I went to a British international school when I was young for a year. That might have played a role too. I should say here that I've never actually been to England in person so I can't comment on what its actually like, but it feels so familiar that sometimes I honestly forget i haven't been. I hope to actually study in London soon, actually, so if you have any advice/warnings, hit me!

Alright, onto Arthur. I just? Really? Love him? In particular I really admire his pragmatic worldview, even if I don't always agree with the conclusions it leads him to. When it comes to knowledge and analysis, he's someone who refuses to turn away from the truth, no matter how incovenient. Yet when it comes to his own emotions he's the complete opposite. That mix of cynicism and then escapism to relieve the emotional burden of his own cycnism is just...fascinating. I also really admire his intelligence in general, as well as his work ethic.

Perhaps what I love the most about Arthur, however, is his spirit. I mean, he's just so alive. Whether he's furious or devastated or overjoyed, he's someone who lives life so intensely, so fully, with such fury. When I write Arthur, that's often the feeling I try to capture: someone who cannot help but see all the suffering in life, but someone who cannot help but fight on, regardless. In a strange way, Arthur embodies hope at its most irrational. As Samuel Beckett wrote in the Unnamable, he's someone who is always telling himself: "You must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on."

Absolutely no one asked for fruk, but I'm just gonna seize this chance to throw out a little headcanon. I think this intense, somehow mortal quality of Arthur is what first captivated Francis. As I've written about a bit before, Francis to me has the most "eternal" feel out of the all the nations. He loves humanity and life as a whole, whereas Arthur lives like every second counts. For someone like Francis, who just adores beautiful, wild, transient things, Arthur is like mortality in a bottle -- so utterly enthralling that once he tasted it he could never get enough. Unlike Joan or other real humans, however, Arthur has proved far more durable to wear and tear :P

My final thought on Arthur is that he has so much contempt for fate, its actually both funny and admirable. If I may quote Tuchmann again, "no man ever lived who was less willing to be the victim of events." Arthur's someone who simply refuses to be bullied, even by grandaddy destiny itself, and I think we all love him for that, a little.

[rescuethewretched]

Today I returned to running track for the first time in years (complicated story with NCAA eligibility) and it was so much fun and such a wild dream come true moment!!! Especially bc I feel like these last couple years I've spent living in my head and running keeps me grounded in the reality of my physical body.

i just feel like I need to share my excitement with everybody I know lmao it's very different from all my regular star wars nonsense I'm usually talking about but don't worry!! I am still having many thoughts on tbobf

oh my gosh!!! my friend that is so AMAZING!!! i’m so glad you got to have that moment, im so proud of you too!!!!! I can’t imagine how much physical and emotional strength it takes to pursue running again!!! thank you for sharing that excitement with me, it makes my heart just SOAR! 🥺🥺 i’ll listen to you talk about the phone book if it makes you excited, my dear friend! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[nikibogwater]

Niki Blethers: The Book of Boba Fett--ep. 3

Oh boy. This episode was uh....well it was certainly a thing. Many things. Actually it kind of felt like it couldn't decide which thing it wanted to be, so it ended up trying to be everything. Which only worked in its favor a handful of times.

Also I'm beginning to think that maaaaaaybe Robert Rodriguez needs to work on something....not Star Wars? But I'll elaborate under the cut. Non-spoilery version is ep. 3 felt a little too chaotic and cluttered for me, and once again the action was noticeably clunky and slow. But there were a few good moments scattered in here and there, so I don't feel like it was a complete waste of my time.

Spoilers under the cut:

Gosh darn it, give this poor man a break. You're not even going to give him one full episode as a fully-initiated honorary Tusken before you murder the entire tribe???

Honestly, the sudden eradication of the Tuskens really did feel like Favreau just....didn't need them anymore, and decided to ditch them with a conveniently-timed tragic death. Since the series is still ongoing, I guess there's a possibility that this will be expanded on later, that this event will be given more weight. But as it is, it kind of felt like an afterthought, like something the plot just swept aside so we could get on with other things.

Also felt like this episode was trying a bit too hard to emulate the same kinds of emotional beats that season 1 of The Mandalorian hit so masterfully. Which is disappointing, because a) this show was never going to be The Mandalorian--that's a doomed attempt from the beginning. And b) I really want Book of Boba Fett to have its own unique flavor within the Star Wars canon. We already watched The Mandalorian. Give us something new, please.

That scummy water-dealer made me chuckle a bit. He's not exactly a new type of character, but there's just something amusing about slimy little businessmen trying to suck up to the local rich guy, whilst simultaneously doing nothing to hide the fact that they are indeed little pieces of slime.

So funny story--I was actually low-key expecting Boba Fett to adopt some kind of moody teenager at some point in the series. I wasn't expecting it to be four moody teenagers, but I'm not complaining.

. . . Okay, yes I am complaining because oh my sweet cheese and crackers, these are some of the worst character designs I've ever seen.

Seriously, these kids look like they were yoinked right off the set of Disney's Descendants and given no time to change costumes. They look jarringly out-of-place in the Star Wars universe, especially on a planet like Tatooine. You expect me to believe these poor little street waifs can't afford water? When they look like they've just gone on a massive Hot Topic shopping spree??? That girl's eyeliner is so distracting, I completely missed entire segments of action scenes.

Not that there was much to miss....Yeah the action in this episode was....pretty slow. Boba wrestling with the deranged Wookie looked more fake than your average WWE production. The "high-speed chase" felt more like we were cruising along at a chill 15 mph. None of the new kids did anything particularly cool or interesting, in spite of all the opportunities their cybernetic implants present from a creative standpoint.

This is all incredibly frustrating because I know Lucasfilm can do good action sequences. I love the idea of Boba employing a street gang of ragtag youngsters. I've been excited to see Temuera Morrison throw down with a Wookie. But this episode just...can't seem to figure out how to do any of those things properly.

I am beginning to think that perhaps this is all due to Robert Rodriguez' style of directing and filming. Because every episode he's directed (both in this series and in The Mandalorian) suffered from a lot of the same problems. And with last week's episode being directed by someone else, and feeling perfectly fine, it just makes me think that Rodriguez' style doesn't fit well with Star Wars.

That being said, I am 100% in support of Boba Fett being a stereotypical Horse Girl.

Seriously. The Rancor scene was a blessing I never knew I needed. Boba Fett is now a Grandpa With a Dog, and I love it so much. The absurdity of Boba giving the flesh-eating godzilla-spawn a scritch behind the ear-holes is exactly my brand of humor and I can't wait to find out what he names it.

So yeah, this episode is definitely my least favorite so far, but I can't say it's truly terrible. Again, I'm on board with pretty much every new concept they introduced here, but the way they went about executing said concepts was really rushed and clunky. I'm trying to be as nice to this show as possible (even though I'm REALLY starting to miss Din Djarin), so I'm going to hope that future episodes manage to smooth out all these problems.

. . . . . .Oh shoot, the Rancor's gonna die too, isn't it--

[galacticidiots]

Hi! I always love the fics that you suggest, so I was wondering if you could tell me which are your favorite Reylo fics, since I'm bored to death in quarantine :) They can be about anything and any rating. Thanks

I made a post a while ago with some of my favourites, but it’s a little outdated. I guess it’s time for a new one?

Modern AUs

Embers (E, 34K) This is one of the most gorgeous stories I’ve ever read. It’s so emotionally charged and so beautifully written. Ben & Rey are exes seeing each other for the first time after a long time. It will break your heart before putting it back together in the loveliest way.

Janus (M, 48K) I feel like I talk about this fic once a week (with good reason). In short - they’re neighbours and Ben has more issues than Vogue. It’s a punch in the gut and a warm hug all at once. It’s a really lovely story about grappling with your demons and stepping out into the proverbial sunlight. It’s about hope and friendship and love and it’s incredible.

we could plan a house, we could build a tree (E, 142K) An absolute classic. It’s about growing pains and growing feelings - the transition from childhood into adulthood and all the messy bits in between. God, it will hurt you. Badly. But it’ll be so, so worth it.

For Now (E, 8K) A recent fave, but one that completely stole my heart. They’re soulmates, but they don’t know it. (How many times did I cry? More than I care to admit).

Mitan, Midi (E, 83K) Rey is going through a very rough patch when she discovers that she’s been left some property in France by an estranged aunt. She moves there… and meets Ben. Look, here’s the thing about this one it deals with depression. I relate to Rey on so many levels, it was actually quite therapeutic. It’s also funny and charming and lovely. I’ll never forget it.

the way you make me feel (is kinda annoying actually) (T, 6K) Soft, jelly-legged TA Ben and feral, prickly Rey in the most charming University AU of all time. Perfection.

Gonna Get Myself Connected (E, 40K) Coworkers + enemies to lovers + A/B/O = the most fun office romance AU you will ever read, featuring an utterly unforgettable elevator scene *fire emoji*

The Food of Love (E, 60K) This one’s got it all: the inital antagonism, the passion, the lust… and the cello. Trust me, you won’t be looking at them the same way ever again. Reylo as musicians, basically.

a sky full of stars (E, 23K) Rey is the astronaut stuck in space; Ben is the professor down on earth. They fall in love across the stars *clutches chest* beautiful.

love it when you call me a lover (E, 87K) Rey wants casual and Ben wants Rey. This is my taste in everything.

Canonverse/Canon Divergent

Sword of the Jedi (T, M, +100K) This series is everything canon should have been. The author knows Star Wars. It’s rich in lore and steeped in emotion and it gives us a truly inspired alternative to canon. I will never, ever forget it.

landscape with a blur of conquerors (E, 362k) God-tier, galaxy brained masterpiece. It’s by the same hands that penned the series above and it is just as spectacular. It picks up after TFA and it gives us such a wonderfully rich alternative to the story you will be left weak, sobbing, breathless & speechless. Featuring a very, very creative use of the EU, arranged marriages, royal court shenanigans and our favourite emotionally constipated idiots.

Yes (E, 4K) Wherein Rey accepts Ben’s proposal. Amazing fluff and gourmet smut. Sometimes that’s all you need.

The Way to Tomorrow (M, 42K) An absolutely gorgeous story about life post-TLJ wherein Ben is exiled and Rey keeps tabs on him via the bond. I’ll never ever forget this story or its very realistic take on life post-war. A tough read because of the subject matter, but so, so incredible.

i’m always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) (M, 7K) ( Post-TLJ. Rey chases Ben across the galaxy. Beautiful and poetic. Sometimes a fic sticks with you in ways that are hard to explain.

find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel (E, 17K) During a Resistance celebration, Rey and a redeemed Ben leave the party to have a conversation. It’s just the most beautiful take on post-war Reylo: Ben in this… gosh, every bit of my heart aches.

The Writings of Ben Solo (E, 39K) Ben Solo jotting down his innermost thoughts all over the sacred Jedi texts and Rey finding said texts, years later, is one of my favourite concepts of all time. This story more than delivers.

Through the sorrow, all through our splendor (E, 7K) Possibly my favourite TROS fix-it fic. It healed my wounds and soothed my hurts.

The Road of Excess (E, 1K) Deliciously dark & twisty dark!Rey & Kylo. It’s short but it packs such a punch.

The Lost Prince of Alderaan (E) Wherein Empress Rey wants Tatooine moisture farmer Ben to be her consort. The characterization in this… god, it’s excellent. I’m literally obsessed.

[levbug]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄�� 𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐤.

#pairing ー akaashi keiji x royal! gender neutral! reader

#warnings ー royalty au! a few curses here and there. also a mentioning of being locked up, not getting fed enough, arranged marriage (its the plot do beware), marriage to men older than 50 to a younger person, death of natural causes

#wc ー 2.2k

you lay on the grass with akaashi, enjoying the view of the stars above you. it had been months since you two have done this, and you could never tell when the next time would be, so you just savoured the rare calmness you only felt when you were with the boy.

as each day passed and your arranged wedding was nearing, you and akaashi found yourselves getting busier and not having enough time to spend with each other. it broke both your hearts' that, soon, you'd be married and it wouldn't be to him.

you desperately wished to be wed to him, but you were from different worlds: you being royalty and akaashi being the prince's, your brother's, most trusted servant. it wasn't acceptable in the eyes of others.

"so what if it isn't? it's not anyone's business on who i fall in love with. let them say whatever." you had responded angrily to akaashi after he brought it up. he shook his head and held your face gently between his calloused hands.

"i know, your highness, but it's not as simple as it sounds." he kissed your forehead. you relaxed as his lips touched your skin, smiling as you heard him address you by your royal title. his silly nickname for you made you forget about your anger. akaashi was the only one who could do that to you.

the consequence of marrying a commoner seemed like nothing, but it was everything. you would lose your royal status and be forbidden to ever see your family again. it was a cruel punishment, but you were tempted to disobey the rules and do it. maybe even start your own family with akaashi and live in the town.

but every time you saw koutarou's infectious grin, or heard your father's booming laugh that couldn't help but make everyone around him chuckle as well, or caught glimpse of your mother's soft (eye colour) eyes that matched yours, you would second-guess yourself. you loved your family, but you also loved akaashi.

akaashi had convinced you to stay with your family, despite wanting nothing but to go to marry and live the rest of his life with you. he had seen how torn you were and and decided to be selfless, saying he'd be happy to just be able to see you everyday surrounded by those you loved.

koutarou knew of your situation, but there was nothing he could do. he wouldn't become king soon enough, definitely not in time for your wedding, so he couldn't change the rules or call off the marriage. he knew how much you loved akaashi, just looking at you he could tell, and it saddened him that he was helpless in this situation.

your betrothed was the king of seijoh. he was a sleazy old guy with a bad temper and horrible manners. he was at least thirty years your senior and you'd be his sixth spouse. he disgusted you to no end. he touched you inappropriately on the first night you met and when you called him out on it, he dismissed it as a good ol' joke.

he had only chosen you to be his spouse because he saw a painting of you and deemed you physically acceptable. you knew if he found out about your courtship with akaashi, he'd have you executed, as he had with his last spouse. he was globally revered and he knew it, using it to his own advantage.

"keiji?" you called to him softly. he looked down at you with his beautiful dark blue eyes, awakening the butterflies in your stomach. 'gosh, keiji, you never fail to make me feel this way.' you thought, staring back up at him, cheeks heating up under his soft yet intense stare.

"yes, love?" he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. your heart rate sped up a bit at the nickname, as it was rare for him to call you anything but your given name or 'your highness'.

"i don't want to get married to that creepy old fucktard." your sudden statement caught akaashi off-guard and he couldn't help but chuckle. he found it amusing how even if you were raised to be 'proper' and speak only the politest words, you would do the exact opposite.

"well, you don't have much of a choice. when the king says he wants you, it's you he's gonna get." akaashi said, sitting up so he could look at you. "no matter how disgusting it sounds, it's our reality."

"i know, i know...it's just surreal how someone can just choose who they want to marry and the other has no choice but to accept, because if they didn't, it would possibly result in war." you sat up as well, glaring at the ground in frustration. akaashi noticed how riled up you were getting and held your hand in his, tracing small circles on the back of it.

"you know i love you, right?" he said, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "if i could, i'd fight that sorry excuse of a king for your hand in marriage."

smiling at his sincerity, you scooted closer to him and leaned you head on his shoulder. you felt tears well up in your eyes as you thought of all those days and sleepless nights you had spent imagining your future with the boy who sat next to you.

"i wish i could stay and keep the life i made with you." you sighed. akaashi closed his eyes and just listened to your soft voice. "it's true, i'll never be over you because i've built a future in my mind with you and now hope is gone. there's nothing left for me to do."

akaashi's eyes opened as he heard this. "that's not true. as much as i hate to think of a life without you, you don't need me. you're wonderful, bright, and young. you don't need my love to continue living. and don't bother arguing, because we both know i'm right."

tears threatened to fall from you eyes and it took everything in you to not cry. "listen, (first name), i hope you know i love you, because i really do and i can't say it enough, but with the king, you'll survive. you'll be safe with him, and i'll be content knowing you are."

the tears you had been trying to stop earlier were now falling freely from your cheeks. akaashi took you into his arms and hugged you tightly, rocking you back and forth in attempts to calm your crying.

when your sobbing had been reduced to small whimpers and sniffles, akaashi held you at arm's length to look you in the eye. "k-keiji, puh-please promise me you'll al-lways love me." you hiccuped, your puffy red eyes staring at him desperately.

"i promise. and you promise to always love me?"

"i suh-swear."

akaashi had been wrong about one thing; you were not safe with the king. it had taken years for you to return to your home because the king had forbade you from ever visiting fukurodani when he found out you and akaashi had been exchanging letters.

the old sleaze had treated you like a prisoner, only letting you out of your room when there was an event or when there were visitors and he needed eye candy.

his son, tooru, had been much kinder to you. he was a year older than you and was extremely attractive. you thought you would've fallen for him if you weren't already head over heels for akaashi.

tooru would sneak up to the tower you were locked in and bring you some food, knowing that they didn't feed you enough. you were eternally grateful for him and constantly let him know.

one day, though, tooru was earlier than he usually came and this time he was accompanied by two guards. you recognized one as iwaizumi, as he had also occasionally given you extra food, but the other one had pink hair and you weren't familiar with him.

"tooru, is everything alright?" you asked the taller male as you heard keys jingling in the cell's lock. you were sure there was no event tonight, since usually a handmaid would be the one at the door, never the prince. "did something happen?”

"i'll explain it to when you get out." his usually cheery voice was devoid of all emotion. the door swung open and you jumped back, startled. the two guards helped you stand up.

you were a bit wobbly on your feet, as you hadn't been let out in a month. the guards noticed though, and held you by your arms gently as you walked down the stairs.

a million thoughts rushed through your head as you descended down the tower. was koutarou alright? was this about your family or fukurodani? were you being sent to execution? tears welled up in your eyes at the last thought, knowing full well that the king was merciless enough to kill you for no reason.

when you had made it down the last flight of stairs, you were sat on a soft, plush couch which contrasted to the cold, hard stone floors in your tower. tooru sat in front of you with a somber expression.

"my father is dead. he died last night of natural causes." he said grimly. as much as you hated the king, he was still tooru's father and you couldn't help but sympathize with the grieving man. the king had taken so much from you, but your humanity was not one of them. "you can go back to your kingdom, now."

"tooru, i...i'm sorry about your father." he nodded, and you knew those weren't the right words to say. you couldn't grasp the idea that the king was dead and you were just stunned at the fact that you were free again. "when will your coronation be?"

"friday." he responded with not an ounce of emotion. his usually bright brown eyes were dull. you pitied the poor man and suddenly embraced him. he was surprised by this but didn't pull away. soon enough, soft sobs could be heard from him.

you had decided to stay until tooru's coronation and then head home. the brunette appreciated your thoughtfulness immensely and promised he would visit you whenever he would have the chance.

when you arrived to fukurodani, you were immediately swarmed by journalists and reporters on the docks. they asked questions about your time at seijoh and what it was like to marry an older guy like the late king. it was nerve-wracking to be surrounded by so many people after being isolated for so long and you felt your anxiety building up within you.

luckily your guards had gotten you out of their reach and now you were on your way to the palace. your home. where your family resided. where akaashi was.

keiji.

everyday for four years you had daydreamed of what your life would have been like if you had married him instead. everyday for four years you wished to see his face and hear his gentle voice. everyday for four years you longed to be in his embrace.

when you had stepped through the palace doors, you had immediately run into your brother's arms. the king had been surprised by your informal greeting, but hugged you back, as he had also missed his sibling.

one you had pulled away from koutarou's embrace, you caught sight of the familiar messy black hair and gun-metal blue eyes you had fallen in love with.

you ignored koutarou's protests as you sprinted into akaashi's arms, making the boyーer, manーgrunt from the force of impact and stumble a bit before catching himself from falling.

as a result of so many years of not getting enough human contact, you had become a touchy person, constantly hugging others or touching their hands or arms as if to remind yourself that they were real. that this wasn't some concocted reality. as if looking for comfort.

when akaashi wrapped his arms around you though, you felt a heat flood through your body. it made you feel human, after years of being treated lesser than a pet. it was like a warm blanket placed on your shoulders after jumping into a cold lake. it felt like the feeling of sipping hot cocoa near the fireplace after playing in the snow for hours.

it was like waking up from a bad dream.

akaashi felt you shaking, hearing you sob breathlessly between his arms and looked at you concernedly. but he noticed that you weren't crying because you were sad or scared, you were crying in relief.

he wondered how awful the king had treated you. it angered him that he could hurt you so much. you noticed akaashi's furrowed eyebrows and the dark look in his expressive eyes, telling him to relax because it was fine now. everything was good. you were okay. you were fine.

you were safe.