#i had written like another 4 paragraphs on the anger thing but it got personal really fast so i opted to delete it

[tonydaddingham]

LWA: Just some random stuff on a Sunday morning!

Missing scenes: Furfur's book of angels includes "bishop" as one of Aziraphale's jobs, and as we've already seen all the others on the list, even if only in deleted lines (the music tutor was originally in the Rome scene), I would guess we'd see that one as well. Not necessarily a good fit for 1650, though, although since Gaiman has done things like have the Bastille still standing in 1793, anything's possible.

Assumptions about character progression: I think there's a tendency to assume that Crowley and Aziraphale develop or ought to develop towards something "better" as the series progresses, but that's not quite right. They become more /complicated/, which is a neutral--dare I say grey?--concept. The novel and series both deny that good and evil are steady-state aspects of character: you /aren't/ good or evil (or something in-between), you /do/ good or evil (or something in-between). S1 Crowley, as both Gaiman and Tennant have said, has no real character arc, but one of the reasons I think the fandom needs to pay attention to my favorite bugbear, the child murder manipulation subplot, is that it is also about moral complexity. Flood-era Crowley offers the moral absolute "you can't kill kids." Armageddon-era Crowley runs Aziraphale over with a trolley problem in order to duck the more unpleasant reality that if you're fine with someone killing a kid for you, you're fine with killing kids. (I have to say that the sentimental "Crowley wuvs Warlock" headcanon is one of those instances where supposedly-positive fanon constitutes outright character assassination, right up there with "Aziraphale had an affair with Oscar Wilde" [oh, do /not/ get me started on why that's horrifying].) The series is on the side of Flood-era Crowley and Madame Tracy, not the "developed" Crowley. Meanwhile, Aziraphale learns how to lie, which is a skill that can be put to different moral purposes in different contexts. Sometimes it's unambiguously good, like saving Job's children; sometimes it's ambiguous-to-evil, like concealing the Antichrist's whereabouts from Crowley (revealing this knowledge to Crowley would mean more pressure to murder the child, but his rehearsed speech suggests that he's willing to let Heaven handle it, perhaps, which is not a viable moral alternative).

AWCW and being "impressionable": one of the funniest things about Crowley is that in some respects, he's every bit as conformist as Aziraphale is, and sometimes more so. His unreliable narration about the Fall hints very strongly that, as you say, he just went along with the "cool kids"--which, despite his protestations to the contrary, /is/ a moral failure on the terms set out by the novel and series. Even later, both Crowley and Aziraphale rebel in ways that maintain the fiction of the overarching system (the Arrangement) rather than dismantling it entirely. Crowley also enjoys his job, especially in the novel. Which, to be clear, is also a moral failure: slacking off is, hilariously, the most moral choice he and Aziraphale can make. FWIW, for me, neither the novel nor the series are "burn it all down" narratives, in part because they both advance a theory of humanity that suggests burning it all down just gets you the same thing from a different direction. The most radical political ideas are given to a conspiracy theorist and to children, and the Antichrist concludes by rejecting all of them and hitting a literal reset button. Pratchett may have co-written the book from a place of "anger," but anger can lead to a lot of different political practices. Obviously, YMMV.

LWA✨ woke up today and chose analytical violence, what a legend

1. see, i feel like 1650 could work for aziraphale's bishop occupation, even if only mentioned retrospectively. theoretically, he could well have been a bishop before the abolishment in 1646, and exploring the episcopalian polity vs presbyterianism argument of the time could be really interesting narratively (especially if handled somewhat like the resurrectionist episode)... but detail aside, even if by the time we see him in 1650 it's only mentioned casually that he was a bishop "a few years back", i don't think it would be entirely out of field. we don't necessarily need to have everything played out on screen!

2. okay, a lot to unpack here, but essentially i agree. the issue it seems to me is to posit moral absolutes in the first place; there will almost always be a contextual 'except'/'but' clause that comes along with it that turns it on its head.

it's bad to kill children, except when they are the antichrist and could bring about the apocalypse.

it's bad to lie, except when it would prevent unimaginable cruelty and grief being wrought on those that don't objectively deserve it.

it's bad to manipulate and brainwash a group of people, except when there's no lasting harm done, and you were only trying to demonstrate to someone that you love them.

it's good to try to further human medicine and prevent needless suffering, except when doing so puts the desperate as the first to fall in the figurative battlefield.

it's good to forgive a huge debt when you don't have any necessity of it being paid, except when it's primarily borne out of materialistic selfishness.

neither character does anything so completely reprehensible, or alternatively so inarguably irreproachable, that someone, somewhere, can't or won't argue a justification for their actions. we individually, according to our own moral compasses borne of our experiences, may justify or condemn what they've done in the narrative - objectively, the morality behind their actions as we've seen them so far is never absolute.

eg. for me, crowley's plan on killing the antichrist, a child, in the specific context of GO is not the condemnable action here; its the manipulation of getting aziraphale to do it because he, personally, will not do it himself. i understand why, but the thing that i personally consider to be unambiguously bad is not killing the antichrist itself, but instead the fact that crowley considers that the only solution to the hellhound being named - ignoring the 'running away' that crops up later, for a moment - is to underhandedly manipulate someone he cares about into doing it instead of him. however, others may see it differently.

who is to say what is 'better', anyway? what even is 'better'? is 'better' to do things only when it's for the benefit of other people? is doing 'better' for your own self not also worthy of consideration? is 'better' wholly only when doing something that is kind or generous to others, rather than being kind or generous to yourself?

whilst crowley hits certain moral epiphanal milestones before aziraphale does, neither have the full right of it - aziraphale should not hold morality to being plainly black or white, dictated to by a set of absolutes that are so basic and lacking in complexity that they are by all accounts redundant. and crowley should not dismiss alternative choices or solutions just because they do not fit his perspective or reasoning, nor hold that his understanding of morality is the only viable one or is the only one with any weight or validity. ep6 imo succinctly demonstrated this.

both of them are still so young at the flood. aziraphale holds that whatever has been decreed by the source 'of all that is good' must therefore be good (and choosing to not see beyond it) and crowley acts so incredulous that something he sees as being absolutely bad would ever be entertained (despite, you know, having been cast out of heaven for 'just asking questions'....). both of them by the time of job have had a pretty seismic shift in that respective naivety - aziraphale begins to question what god actually intends, and crowley acts stoutly bitter and unsurprised by the assignment. neither reactions are compatible still, they constantly circle each other, and literally indicate that some level of understanding (of god, of her will, of morality 'in the real world' itself - take your pick) is still lacking.

re: Oscar Wilde and warlock hcs (i couldn't let these stroll by without comment)... god, where to start. re: warlock, i never begrudge any hc where it's borne out of a developed fanon background. that's arguably one of the main benefits of having the fanon side of things: to develop a point/event/gap in the story for yours and others' amusement - that's cool! for this example, any fic that gives more insight into their years in warlock's life, and therefore gives legitimacy to crowley having a fondness for warlock - yep, i like that! that's awesome, i could see it as an unrealised narrative, but that's where it firmly stays, for me - in fanon.

but i do get frustrated when certain narrative points are pointedly ignored in order to establish a character trait that would otherwise not exist. crowley in canon does not - to me - demonstrate any fondness towards warlock. he literally proposes the option of his murder! i don't think him refusing to entertain killing warlock himself indicates any sentimentality towards the kid - thats a bit of a stretch, imo - but instead it reflects on his character being, put reductively, a bit of a knob sometimes.

as for aziraphale and oscar wilde... yeeaaah. i think anyone that holds that hc seriously needs to reevaluate the implications of it, and whether or not beyond professional (?) respect for his work aziraphale would willingly want to associate with him... ultimately, i refer back to my above point about "...anything so completely reprehensible...". and, respectfully, perhaps there needs to be a little more separation between michael sheen's filmography and aziraphale's narrative - whether in hc or canon.

3. right, AWCW time. i agree re: his conformity to the 'cool kid group' being something that is deserving of scrutiny on his own morality, but i feel like this only is viable once that association goes beyond a certain point (and an arguably arbitrary one at that). essentially, i think it's possible to still see AWCW's decision to associate with the group as understandable and empathetic. we know from the narrative that a) AWCW starts hanging out with them at some point, and b) that lucifer et al. are in the end considered bad people. but were they actually bad at the time that AWCW comes across them? if they were, did AWCW himself know? we don't really have enough narrative to reliably confirm this.

but we do know that AWCW fell, and it's therefore rather likely that he continued associating with them past a point where he would have known that they were Bad News Bears. in the beginning, he may have just been glad that these people seemed to listen to him and make him feel valid for having questions - that's understandable. but as time goes on, as lucifer etc. hypothetically get more and more questionable in their actions and beliefs, AWCW presumably choosing to stick with them, possibly even defending them, confers the deserving of negative judgement onto AWCW in turn (presuming there's no element of coercion or blackmail involved, mind you).

i like the point you raise of aziraphale and crowley respectively not conforming to their inherent purposes (being an angel or demon respectively) when it benefits them personally, being an almost accidental 'good thing', especially when the story puts forward that, however you look at it (ie. whether bc they are lazy, or it poses more excuses to see each other - immaterial), the arrangement is entirely self-serving. 10/10 narrative irony. but this is kinda going back to one of our first asks, LWA - it is for me once again the key difference between rebellion, and revolution:

(never been more grateful for making the LWA masterpost, thank you past-me)

so whilst i agree to a certain point that the 'burn it all down' narrative may not be a viable option, or is at the very least a reductive one, i think that the question is what it is replaced with, if at all. adam hit the reset button and put earth back to how it was, because what humanity and earth was - by my interpretation - was just fine as it is. it's not perfect, but not worthy of being destroyed in totality.

so what can we say about heaven? is it a mirror to earth in this respect? i don't think it is. heaven may well have been intended originally as a neutral party with the best of intentions, and then pigeonholed into being the 'good side' following the fall, but it has been allowed to fester and corrupt. maybe we will see more in s3 that there are other angels that feel that heaven as a system is flawed (personally, i think we see this in saraqael's introduction to GO, but that's just my interpretation of the character so far), and maybe those angels will represent the part of heaven that is still redeemable.

so okay, yeah, maybe heaven shouldn't be completely gutted and dismantled, but it is not in the same place as earth is at the time of adam's reset. earth and humanity were arguably the innocent parties in their prospective destruction, whereas heaven has sown their own seeds for it. i don't think the two are entirely comparable. heaven does need a major realignment, and i personally don't think this can happen without some form of systematic reform, without revolution (especially if the wider fandom's evaluation of metatron is true come s3!). it needs reworking with an alternative system that works to be fairer, and removes any binary rhetoric of good vs. evil. don't ask me for the minutae of how this should happen, because i have zero idea (well, very little, anyhow), im not that clever.

but this is what i hope aziraphale will actually be successful in come s3. he can't just - in anger at the injustice of it all - set heaven on fire and walk away from the ashes; it will invite for the original regime to rebuild or something worse to take its place. that being said, it's not just him that needs to do it - to build an alternative to heaven in his own image is equally questionable. again, this is the suggestion that i liked in the armageddon 2.0 meeting in ep6; the idea of democracy in heaven, even if the current board is less than ideal (and the point could poetically hark back to the hypothetical 1650 flashback...?).

[thursdayinspace]

20 questions for 20 writers

tagged by @thatfragilecapricorn30 @randomfoggytiger and @baronessblixen thank you!! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 21

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 70.063 -- this is my new AO3, so that's why it's still so low, haha.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Only X-Files now.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? spectacular (glasses sex!), it's the day the world didn't end, from this morning forward (that makes me so happy), got you covered, wild side

5. Do you respond to comments? yes. if I ever don't, I'm sorry, it's not because i didn't love your comment, but i just don't get around to it right away sometimes. but i try to reply to every single one because i love them all.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ohhh. i don't write super angsty endings . . . I guess mend into pieces bc it's season 2 and they know they're making a mistake, but we all know they'll figure it out eventually, so.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? they pretty much all end happily. i'm going to more or less randomly pick five ways to say i love you. because i loved writing that ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? so, okay. there are two stories here i want to tell from an old fandom. one is funny. one is kind of great, really?

the funny one: i got a looooong comment on a fic, like several paragraphs long, going into great detail about why the fic sucked and why i sucked and why i had personally offended them by writing fic at all. they obvs meant to comment anonymously but forgot to log out. by the time i got to my computer, they had deleted their entire account. of course i had their name in the ao3 email. i laughed so hard at that.

the kind of amazing one: i got a very rude anon on tumblr, and i responded by saying i'd be happy to discuss their criticism, but i wasn't going to have a conversation with a hockey puck with sunglasses, and asked them to come off anon so we could talk. and they did! they showed up in my dms a short while later. we solved nothing and did not part as friends, but i actually have mad respect for that. wherever they are today, i hope they have taken some anger management classes and are doing well!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yeah, i certainly do. idk what kind? the porny kind? lol no i mean it's kind of lame but fun.

10. Do you write crossovers? i wrote a stargate atlantis/firefly crossover centuries ago but that was it. or maybe start trek with sth else, i don't remember.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? i don't think so, no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? yes! it's so much fun and i would do it again.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? mulder and scully!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i plan to finish all of them.

16. What are your writing strengths? it used to be dialogue but i don't think it is anymore. idk? i think i can create an atmosphere?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i tend to repeat myself a lot and then skip over other things completely. i'm not good with transitions between scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i haven't done it, but if it would make sense for a fic, i might do it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? stargate atlantis. i was very late to the fanfic party.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? it's called 'ellipsis' and is still with the beta. but of the ones i've already posted, either from this morning forward or yesterday's future.

Randomfoggytiger added additional questions:

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life? i mean it's a hobby but it's definitely also a way of life. there isn't ever a time when i don't think about writing and everything all the time connects in some way to a thing i'm writing and i can't imagine what i'd do without writing.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript? completed manuscript! or notes? uhh . . . both?

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration? everything. random things. i can't think of one specific thing, it can be literally anything.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing? both thoughts are equally awful lol

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective? yeah, i think so. not in any big way, but about smaller stuff, just the way i look at certain things? yes.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN? ao3!!! my tinkerbell brain loves the comment section, haha. also it's just so much nicer to read on ao3 and there's the download option, so also as a reader, def ao3.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it? 70.063 - no, i'm not satisfied with it. i used to write multi-chapters with more words. but it's a new account so yeah starting small again.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably? jasper fforde's 'thursday next' series. it's where i stole my name from. literary detectives? oh man. it's the kind of story where you wish you'd had the idea first. go read it!!!!!

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it? i am really really lucky to have been given so many amazing compliments and i appreciate every single one. i couldn't say what means the most to me . . . probably when it's personal to the commenter? when someone tells me sth i've written touched them in some way. bc that's what i want to achieve.

10. What defines your writing style? lol idek man pretentious purple prose? i think i live somewhere between overuse of metaphors and focus on the rhythm of a text. i love writing in english bc it flows so nicely. idk is trying to make it sound nice a style bc then that's at least what i'm going for.

who hasn't been tagged? no pressure tags for @backintimeforstuff @nachosncheezies @actual-changeling and everybody else who wants to!

[snowflake-of-destruction]

#ooooh so interesting....#what would their numbers be??#i would assume adam has a number similar to grace#and miya number must be in the mid 200s? because of his run with the apex maybe??

@raindvst tags on her reblog of my Sk8 the Infinity Train speculative plot post which you can read [RIGHT HERE]

Deciding numbers can be difficult. We see a range in the show, and, while we know the general idea of how starting numbers and increases/downsizing of numbers works, the exact  “points system” has few references and sometimes just moves as the plot demands. Even starting numbers, we have them range from 50s to in the 300s. Now, 4 drops tomorrow and we may have new or more nuanced information soon. 

Long-ish musings on numbers for Miya, Adam, Tadashi, Reki, and Langa under the cut, and some general talk/calls for opinions about Joe, Cherry, and Shadow involvement in the narrative in the final paragraphs.

Miya’s number probably started somewhere around Tulip’s (115), since they are similar age and have a lot of commonality (parents they feel don’t care or pay attention like they should, stubborn, gifted kid, etc.) and though Miya’s issues may not shape in exactly the same way as Tulip’s with her parent’s divorce causing a spike of anger and trauma, we also see that Tulip still has friends/support in her life. Miya is pretty isolated, so maybe we put his starting number a bit higher, like 140. In that case, 200s may be a lowball if he ran around with Apex for awhile, especially if he knew better than to take every word said to him as gospel truth, which I think he would, and he definitely knew some of their actions were wrong/harmful but went along for awhile anyway. Intent counts for a lot. 

Even if he’s on his own now, I would still say maybe 400-500 for Miya’s number. We actually see some non-Apex, presumably “normal” passengers with numbers over 1000, but they are older than Miya. Not that age always means a higher number, as Jesse’s was fairly low to begin with, but Jesse was a soft heart from moment one despite other issues, and I think that soft heart and willingness to examine himself sooner than some others means a lower number.

 Actually, let’s also look at Hazel and the 337 on her hand. We know that her number is there because that was Amelia’s number, but Simon and Grace don’t know that when first finding her, and though it’s understandable that the fact that Hazel’s number is not glowing trumps all other observations, there isn’t much focus on why a six-year-old who was just hanging out and playing with a denizen has a 337...ergo, maybe that’s not that high. Of course, I could be off base though as I don’t remember any background Apex members numbers (feel free to send them if you got them) so maybe 300 is still pretty high.

I’d still say Miya is around 500 though. Not insurmountable, but still a little problem child. 

Adam’s number is indeed one that wraps up his arm, though it’s usually covered by his clothes, so what attracts attention is still the personality. Whether his number is higher or lower than Grace in season 3 is anybody’s guess. He doesn’t care or keep track. He’s just living his life however he wants, going overboard a bit on the principle of doing whatever he desires. He doesn’t buy into the “numbers are power” theory or ‘high number wins”. He never cared whether dwindling numbers meant death or a return to normal life, because he came to regard both as the same thing. 

Tadashi’s number (not asked about, but now I am in speculation mode) would seem like it has to be fairly small in comparison with Adam’s. He’d wear gloves, but not long ones, and when he rolls up his sleeves, there is no glow to be found. However, his number would be an irrational number/constantly in flux I’ve decided, because, when our story would begin, his work toward resolving his core issues would enter a paradox. Tadashi’s heart issue is resigning himself to a life where he prioritizes being obedient and serving well over everything else (including right and wrong, his happiness, and even people he loves) refusing to so much as be vocal about his own opinions much less take action. So, finally finding something other than duty important enough to take a stand over, and making a change in how he is going to live his life from there forward is healing. However, and this is a big however, the change he’s made and life he’s chosen, leaving his responsibilities, is following Adam around, not objecting to anything he does, and viewing it as duty owed as much or more than affection...which is both wrong and the same exact pattern/problem. 

The train isn’t infallible. We’ve seen that before. I don’t know that the system would know what to make of it. So, until he decides to make another change, finds different priorities, or his relationship dynamic with Adam changes, the anomaly persists.

Reki would probably enter under 100, much like Jesse, and stay right around the same area, decreasing or climbing slowly like we see with Tulip or Jesse most of the time.

Langa, I said before he keeps the same number, but what that number would be may be a difficult assignment. How do we rate the grieving process? Do we give him a number similar to Amelia’s starting place long ago at 330-ish or do we say Amelia had signs of other issues even then so let’s give Lange more along a 200? I’d probably split the difference and give him something like...288. Get the 8s in there to make sideways infinity symbols.

I am still not entirely sure how I am going to integrate Joe and Cherry. I have a thought for them as recently come aboard the train at the same time in separate cars, but  I am not completely sold on the first scenario of an inciting incident I came up with. Okay, I’ll say it. Joe proposed, Cherry said no, they fought and broke up entirely, and then both ended up on the train. It could work but it seems a little...melodrama, perhaps? 

I don’t have any idea about Shadow, and was tempted to have him as the gang’s train denizen guide. However, I don’t feel that’s entirely fair to him since every other character gets to be human (not that he couldn’t have his own focus or character arc as a denizen) and the au would otherwise be following canon backstories and just be “what if the Infinity Train existed in Sk8’s version of earth,” a path I’d like to stick to.

I am open to ideas about Hiromi/Shadow and Matchablossom if anyone has suggestions. I...think this AU may actually get written.

[splicejunction]

Please tell me about shatterstar's Childhood

oh my god anon okay I’m assuming in context of what I’ve recently posted you want like... my version of events rather than what’s canon but just in case I hope you know that there’s basically zero canon material that actually describes his childhood/young adulthood beyond “I was a warrior born” or whatever the fuck. if you want to know about that idk go on the fucken... marvel wiki page or something

also--I hate that I have to put this out here and I doubt anyone would actually do this but just in case--I have spent like 1 million hours thinking about this because I have brain disorders and it is very close to my heart so please do not A) use this in fics, etc without letting me know/getting my permission in advance or B) reblog this post

anyways. this is a can of worms so I’m going to do a cheeky lil

first we have to get something out of the way: I hate the “shatterstar’s his own grandpa” paradox. I am sorry if this angers people but it makes me mad so I ignore it. the reason it bothers me is because it means alison blaire essentially married her grandson, which is A) weird and B) bad from a genetics perspective.

in my version of canon ‘star IS the biological child of longshot and dazzler but longshot wasn’t cloned using ‘star’s DNA because..... oh god... another whole separate post can be made about this but... in my head, on mojoworld the way genetic engineering works is not really the same as it is here. here genetic engineering generally means taking an existing genome and inserting or deleting genes. this is how they make, for example, animals that glow, or confer pesticide resistance to plants.

but on mojoworld I think the way they genetically engineer is more like... the way we mechanically engineer. like the entire organism is built from the ground up. there’s a master genetic blueprint which is essentially the “minimal genome” required for a functioning humanoid. this was created by study of Earth humans by arize and the other genetic engineers. they can then go in and customize by adding elements to the genome that code for the signals/building blocks that control things like height, strength, hair color, eye color, having hollow bones etc. so in my head longshot was sort of... designed with ‘star as the inspiration, but not directly cloned. that wouldn’t even make sense anyways because A) different hair color and B) LONGSHOT HAS 3 FINGERS ON EACH HAND and shatterstar has 4!! thats NOT HOW CLONES WOULD WORK!!!!

(side note, the concept of a minimal functional genome is a real thing in biology! some scientists have taken a bacterium that already has a small genome and reduced it to the minimum size required for viability. here is a wikipedia article on it and here is the original paper (DOI: 10.1126/science.286.5447.2165) which I can explain in more detail because I took a class on synthetic biology which this technically falls under and I had to read this paper very closely).

fuck I’ve written 4 paragraphs and not even talked about his childhood yet. I am so sorry. anyways. so the way I think they raise the gladiators on mojoworld is they create them in batches of 5 to 10 identical copies of a certain “model”, place each copy in a different “class” with a set of 2-3 mentors/teachers, and train them to fight until they are 13 or 14. until this time the only names they have are the names that identify the “model”--like for shatterstar that would be gaveedra-seven where the model identifier is “gaveedra” and he is (in the lore that I have come up with) the 7th of 8 total.

the reason they create multiples and put them in different classes is each mentor is going to have a slightly different style of teaching which is going to work better for some and worse for others, so it allows them to have more mass production while increasing the chances of creating a truly great champion. it’s classic nature versus nurture--the genetic engineers create your nature, but you don’t end up exactly the same as others of your model. maybe you get an edge, maybe you don’t.

another thing that happens is different mentors believe in different ways of raising the kids in their care. shatterstar specifically was raised in a class where there was absolutely zero emotional development at all and no attachments allowed beyond fighting alliances. that’s not the case in all classes, and it also had the effect of making him somewhat of an outsider even within the other gladiators as he got older.

at 13 or 14--and yes I realize this is very fucked up but dude its fucking mojoworld idk what you expected--they start participating in fights. the first ones aren’t to the death and they’re as teams and they’re not usually televised they’re more like high school sports games that are attended by scouts (here, they’re “sponsors”--I think that’s a canonical term but I honestly can’t remember) and if you get sponsored you leave your class and join a new “team” that’s really just a bunch of people who all have the same sponsorship. this is where things can get interesting because they’ve all been raised with slightly different fighting styles but more importantly, slightly different degrees of Personhood.

also at this point I should mention that by this time, there are usually only 2, maybe 3 of each model left. either they died or were recognized as not having talent so they were sent to eventually fulfill other roles in the network. in ‘star’s case there was just him and gaveedra-five. once you get to the stage where you’re sponsored and you’re actually fighting to the death one of the first people you’ll fight is any remaining members of your model group.

by the time you’re the only one left of your group, you’re also eligible to earn a stage name. this usually happens if you have a particularly epic fight with a lot of viewers, you win and the commentators will typically say something like “Let’s give this crowd a real name to cheer!” and they’ll have a few candidate names and they’ll kind of just pick one. AUGH I actually have this scene written out in story form but its too long so I think I’ll save it.... :) 

after you get a name you also get a cool outfit and usually some kind of mark or tattoo that serves as a brand. this brings me to another important point--shatterstar inherited the X-gene from alison and therefore he IS a mutant. his mutation is the swords vibration thing and the glowing eye. the star mark is a tattoo and teleportation is benjamin russell’s mutation (how he fits into all this is... for another post). basically after he got his name the costuming department guys were like “hey your eye glows, you look like the Legendary Warrior of Old, Longshot, we’re gonna pattern your look after him” so they gave him the star tattoo and the outfit that’s literally inverse colors of longshot’s.

also this brings me to another aside: you’re probably wondering “if he’s the biological kid of longshot and alison how are there 8 gaveedras?” when the genetic engineers got a hold on him as a baby they were like Sick! free baby! free genetic material! thats our job done for us! so they cloned him (in the traditional sense) and made 7 copies. this was also to kind of conceal his identity as technically being from outside mojoworld, which would make him stick out and thus be a target. they DID edit out the x-gene in the other gaveedra models though. this wasn’t a problem for ‘star because his mutation didn’t manifest until he was already sponsored.

I think that’s .... pretty much it for macroscopic lore on what it was like to be a kid gladiator on mojoworld. now let me give you some Tidbits of his life specifically:

like I said he was raised in a particularly cold and ruthless class. the mentors that raised him are like well-known by everyone to produce some of the best warriors but also there’s discourse on mojoworld because some people say perfectly emotionless killing machines aren’t as fun to watch. when he was sponsored there were 4-5 others in the same sponsorship and they were like Theres Something Wrong With You LOL

they speak earth languages on mojoworld because they’re imitating the broadcasts they (the spineless ones) used to hear from earth. however, most of the lower-class as well as almost all arena fighters and other television personalities speak cadre or other languages which are native to the planet. the stage names are all vaguely in english, but the gladiators don’t really understand them at first.

shatterstar got his name before he got the glowing eye, and when he learned what stars are, and saw his eye as a little star, he was like wow :) this is Me :) which is why that name is so important to him. it’s also one of the first things that wholly belonged to him.

(you can’t see stars on mojoworld because of light pollution and also because it’s a pocket dimension and there just aren’t that many stars to see)

I hate to bring up the s**ley miniseries but I do think it would be interesting to have him have a sort of ... mentor/first friend, similar to the concept of gringrave but they were NOT in a relationship. it was more like... another kid who was a year or so older than him got a soft spot for him and helped him not be so clueless. she didn’t make as much progress as xforce did, obviously. but they were.... something like friends.

unfortunately she was used by spiral to get shatterstar to murder the first rebel guy who tried to get him out of there. then she got switched sponsors (this can happen) and he had to kill her, and he was like well I will simply never develop any kind of attachment to anyone ever again.

he almost didn’t make it out of the first training session with his sponsorship group (this is semi-canon--there’s a reference when he’s teaching terry to swordfight to almost not surviving the first time he was in a gladiator class or whatever it was).

the closest he ever came to losing was the day he got the name. that’s why the crowds loved it so much.

the double-bladed sword was a gimmick weapon but when he got his mutation they realized it works way better if there’s resonance between two parallel blades so they redesigned it as an actual weapon.

(forgot this but I feel like I should include it) at 17 he escaped the arenas and joined the cadre alliance. two years later he came to earth and joined xforce.

I think that’s going to have to be it for now because it’s literally almost midnight and I have work tomorrow and I did NOT intend to stay up this late but I did. thank you for this opportunity anon :) feel free to ask me any other questions and also I realize a lot of this probably makes no fucking sense and that’s because I am not a writer or anything I’m just a biochemist with brain problems that cause me to obsess over stupid shit

[lalahbug]

False Ring - Levi x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 2,296 My Masterlist Warnings/disclaim: general Modern Office AU Author’s Note: Continued under story Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 12/25/2016. Revamped/edited in 2020. ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.  Story under cut

          “Hanji! Take down that mistletoe, now!” ___ barked at her while walking up to her.

          “But it’s Christmas!”

          “There will be no kissing in the office!”

          Hanji kept complaining and trying to defend the decoration.

          “Hanji. I let you get away with going overboard on the decor for Christmas, decorating everyone’s desk, the lobby, the breakroom. I am drawing the line at the mistletoe!” ___ was lecturing Hanji basically in front of the entire advertising and marketing team. Hanji was one of the top managers, behind Erwin and Levi, of course.

          ___ is the CEO but always has a degree in advertising, so a lot of her free time was spent there. Being hands-on and knowing about every campaign and making sure they all appealed to a wide audience.

          “But, ___-”

          “Hanji, you can put it up at home and the Christmas party tonight. But please just, not in the office.” ___ sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

          “___!” Hanji whined.

          “Oi! Shitty Glasses, ___ said no, so get away with that shit.” Levi stood next to ___.

          “Come on, Hanji. I’ll help you with decor for the party, okay?” Erwin wrapped an arm around Hanji, dragging her away.

          ___ took a deep breath. “Thank you, Levi.”

          “Tch, whatever.”

          “Will you be at the party, tonight?”

          “No.”

          “What, why not?” ___ tried to not let the disappointment show in her voice.

          “I don’t like Christmas, it’s over-done and all about presents, nowadays.”

          “That’s why I am holding the party without presents, though. So we can all get to know each other better and spend time with each other and our families.”

          “I have no reason to go, nor do I want to be around all of the brats and lovey-dovey couples.”

          “Oh, okay. I’m sure you’d rather just spend time alone with your girlfriend anyways.” She gave him a sweet smile. Levi just glared at her, making her sigh and look away. “I know, I know, you won’t talk about your life outside of the office.” An awkward air settled between them. “Well, I hope I get to know your personality better in the new year. I’ll see you after News Year’s, I need to tell everyone to go home now.”

          ___ gave a quick surprise to all of her employees, telling them the only reason for them to come into work on Christmas was to clock in and get their bonus check. Telling everyone Merry Christmas, go home and she was looking forward to seeing them and their families at the party.

          About an hour after everyone had left, ___ was sitting at her desk, finishing some paperwork.

          “What are you still doing here?” ___ jumped a bit, at hearing Levi’s voice, which made him click his tongue at her. “Go home to your family.”

          “Oh, there’s no one waiting for me at home. And this paperwork needs to be finished.” ___ gave him a small smile before looking back down to the papers and filling them out.

          “Isn’t this supposed to be mine?” Levi had walked over to her desk, taking the paper from her.

          “Hey, put that back.”

          “Why are you doing my work?” He glared at her.

          “I’ve been taking half of your’s, Hanji’s and Erwin’s work lately. We got a new client and I know you guys are already overworked. Since it’s Christmas, I wanted you all to be happy and not too stressed out. I prefer being at the office, so I always find where I can lighten the load of others.”

          “You do this often? My work?”

          “Yeah, not just yours, though. It’s not like it’s too hard to do or anything.” She shrugged and opened her hand to Levi. “Come on, give it back. Go home, have a goodnight.”

          Levi sat down across from her. “When are you going home?”

          She stared at him for a moment, confused. “About 3 hours before the party, so I can get ready and get there before everyone. To make sure Hanji didn’t go overboard. But I’ll be back here tomorrow.”

          “Are you going to be there all night?”

          “Yes, of course. I am the main host after all.”

          “What time do you think you’ll go home?”

          “Um, I don’t know. Probably sometime tomorrow. Why are you asking so many questions? This isn’t like you, you normally don’t care.”

          “Do you ever go home?” Levi glanced around, avoiding her question, his voice was getting harsher and judgmental.

          “Sometimes. I usually just go home to shower and get a bit of sleep. But I have a bed in my side office for days where I just would rather get more work done. I have a week’s worth of clothes here. So I guess I mainly just go home to get clean.”

          “Wait, you sleep here? How often?” Now, his voice was belittling and demanding.

          “I don’t know, like 4 times a week maybe.”

          “Tch.” He seemed truly annoying with her.

          “Don’t you click your tongue at me, boy. You’re acting hostile and demanding. I don’t need this from my employee, go home.” She snapped at him. Levi stared at her for a moment.

          “Did you just call me, boy?” He almost growled at her.

          “Ackerman. Go. Home. Now.” ___ let authority coat her every word. It was rare she used his last name or ever had to use an authoritative tone on him. He stared at her for a moment, before clicking his tongue again and leaving her office without another word.

          “Hanji, thank you for not going too overboard.”

          “Erwin reeled me in.”

          “Then I guess I should be thanking him.”

          “Nah. You both look beautiful by the way. I didn’t know you had tattoos, ___.”

          “Thanks, but yeah, I’ve had them for a while, sometimes I forget about them.”

          “It’s awesome to see so much for your skin, it looks so soft!” Hanji rubbed ___’s shoulders, making her smile then push her away. 

          “Stop it.”

          “Where did you get your dress?” Hanji was feeling the soft material. ___ just smirked at her and looked down at her red strapless dress.

          “Um, I think my mom got this for me last year. So I’m not sure.”

          “How are your parents?��

          “Oh, they’re good. They couldn’t make it over to me this year and I have too much work, so I couldn’t go to them, but I’ll be seeing them for New Year’s, I should be done with all of my work by then.”

          “Why do you have so much work? Hanji and I finished everything the other day.”

          “Oh don’t worry about it.” She gave them a heartwarming smile.

          “It’s because she’s doing some of our work.”

          ___ turned on her heel, to see Levi standing right behind her.

          “You what?!” Hanji screamed, gripping ___ and shaking her by her shoulders. “You’ll never get babies if you keep overworking yourself! You’re going to end up in the hospital again for overworking yourself!”

          “Hanji! Stop!” 

          The brunette stopped shaking her boss. 

          “I love my job. I’m not worried about having children. I won’t overwork myself, again, that’s why I put that bed in my side office.”

          Erwin groaned and Levi stared at all of them.

          “Wait, that’s why you were hospitalized for a few weeks a couple of months ago?” Levi wanted confirmation.

          “Yeah, I came to her for some signatures and she was unconscious at her desk,” Erwin stated.

          “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

          “You didn’t ask and we didn’t want to tell too many people.” ___ shrugged.

          Erwin and Hanji then continued to bug ___ about giving them their work back so she could go see her parents sooner. Eventually, she caved in and told them she would give them their work back tomorrow.

               “I can’t believe you showed up, just to tattle on me about helping out with work.” ___ grumbled as she and Levi leaned against a wall, drinking some wine.

          “I showed up because Erwin told me to. Ratting you out, after calling me boy, was a bonus.”

          “You were mad at me for calling you, boy? But you’re younger than me by a few years.”

          “I’m not a boy.” He growled.

          “Uh, huh. Sure," she giggled at his anger.

          Levi moved so he was blocking her path and his hands on either side of her head, making her blush.

          “I’m not a boy. I am a man.” 

          “Oh, okay.” She was too shocked to say anything else. Levi moved back a bit to look at her.

          “You’re blushing.” He smirked at this, which only made the crimson dusting her cheeks grow darker; because she had never seen him smirk before. “You’re blushing more now.”

          “Shut up. Why are you teasing me?”

          “Because I didn’t know you were single before.”

          “What?”

          “The whole office believes you’re married.” This made ___ burst out.

          “No! Oh, that is funny.” She kept giggling. “No, no. I don’t have a partner, I mean I have some people I have crushes on. But I have no interest in letting them know that.”

          “Why is that?”

          “I like how things are now.”

          Levi and ___ hung out together most of the party, well, he hung around her while she talked with many different employees and told stories.

          “So, ___. Tell me,” Jean piped up. He was a new customer service employee. “Is the rumor true that you and Levi are married?”

          ___ almost spit out her drink. “What? So not only was the rumor that I am married is going around, but to Levi?”

          “So I take it’s not true?” Jean chuckled. “Then how would you like to get dinner sometime?”

          “Just because she’s not married doesn’t mean she’s desperate enough to go out on a date with you, horse-face,” Eren sneered as Mikasa glared at Jean before he could retort.

          “If anyone takes her to dinner, it’ll be me,” Levi grumbled, making everyone quiet.

          “So you’re dating?” Jean was the only one stupid enough to ask.

          “None of your business.” Levi glared at him. “Come on, ___.” Levi turned on his heel.

          “Oh, um. I’ll see you guys after the new year. Have a wonderful holiday!” ___ chased after Levi. “Levi, what was that all about? Why did you confuse them like that?”

          Levi scoffed. “Because I meant it. It’s none of their business, but if anyone is to take you out anytime soon, it’ll be me.”

          “What are you talking about?”

          “Oi, you’re stupid for being smart. I like you, clearly. That’s why I got mad anytime you asked about my nonexistent girlfriend or offered to have me come to dinner with you. I thought you were married. Anyone would with that ring on your finger.”

          “Oh.” ___ was blushing and looking down at the ring on her finger, she had stopped walking.

          Levi turned to face her, standing in front of her. “Why do you wear a wedding ring?”

          “It was my grandmother’s, she didn’t have much, but being her only granddaughter. It was the only thing she left me. I just wear it because she was like a mom to me. Plus, it kept away creeps. I didn’t mean to confuse everyone, though, or push anyone away, especially you.”

          “You’ve been visited by the Mistletoe Fairy!” Hanji giggled while holding a stick with mistletoe hanging from it.

          “Hanji, no!” ___ scolded her, pointing a finger at her. Levi glanced up at the small green branch. Levi clicked his tongue before grabbing the back of ___’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

          ___ squeaked while Levi pulled her to him, but she quickly let her body relax against his.

          Levi smirked as the tension in her body disappeared, he kissed her gently again, before pulling away, letting his grin slowly fade away.

          “Can I expect Levi babies soon then?” Hanji squealed.

          “You’re just being stupid now,” ___ giggled. Erwin had popped up and dragged away Hanji so Levi and ___ could be alone. “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Levi.” She beamed at him.

          He froze for a second before pulling her into a hug. “Thanks.”

          She pushed back a little. “What for?”

          “You’re the first person to say that today, a lot of people seem to forget my birthday because of Christmas.”

          “Oh, I even got you a gift. I was just going to give it to you next year, but since you’re here.” She smiled and pulled away from him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the coat station. She asked for her purse and pulled out a small box.

          “I got it last week. So, happy birthday, Levi.” She offered it to him, he cautiously took it. “Well, open it.” So he did.

          He pulled out a couple of sturdy tins. “Is this really Jungpana and Glendale loose tea? This is expensive shit.”

          “Is it? I just went to a tea shop with great reviews and told them you really love tea, that you like to be clean and your birthday was soon. They recommended these.”

          “They are really good, they have good taste, but pay attention to pricing brat.”

          “You like your gift right?”

          “Of course.” He pulled her close to him. “I can’t wait to see more of you, you’re the best gift.”

          “That’s not what I meant!”

          “Well, you being single, is the best news I learned today, so that’s the best gift. But you won’t be single, much longer.” He rested his forehead against hers.

          “Well, if that’s the case, I think you should invite me to test that tea out with you.”

          “Tch, don’t tell me what to do. But you should come over soon.”

          “It’s a date.”

          “Damn right it is.” He pulled her close, keeping an arm around her most of the night, showing no signs of leaving her side anytime soon.

Author's Note: Continued As far as I know, Levi’s b-day is Christmas, so this fic was written for his b-day.

[searching-for-arcadia]

creator appreciation tag

I was tagged by @this-is-quite-homoerotic​ (thank youuu 💜)

RULES: It’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

1. speak to me but not of fate (propinquity)

There are many ways to get to know another person. There are drunken revelations, guilt-laden confessions, and, sometimes, simple conversation.

Before late 2020, the last time I wrote fic was in 2011 and this is, by far, the longest fic I’ve ever written. Gwen and Ianto’s relationship (and their similarities and differences, but especially their similarities, as characters) is fertile ground for my thoughts and I really enjoyed having the opportunity to put some of these thoughts down into fic (I did have to cut a good decent chunk out of this fic because it had devolved into pure meta rather than narrative).

2. I’ll Cut Your Throat

If it weren’t for the fact that this image refused to leave my brain, I might never have came back to the fandom (not that I was really ‘in’ it in the first place since I only ever lurked and read fic the first time around). I’ve got nothing to say for myself. This scene for Princess Mononoke is iconic and I just wanted to draw Jack and Ianto into it.

3. Death Follows

Jack didn’t remember the first time he saw one of those hounds hovering in the shadows, staring at him with glowing red eyes. He had had other things on his mind then and had probably wrote them (though at that point, and for a long time after, there was only ever one) off as a figment of his imagination. He would be forgiven for thinking that since they only appeared when he was injured (fatally, as he would later realize) or well on his way to drinking himself to death. These visions were unimportant compared to his confusion, grief, and anger at being stranded on a backwards planet in a backwards year.

I just really like Ianto with (mythological) canines and what would be more fitting for Jack than being followed around by an omen of death.

4. All These Things, They’re Changing Me

Trauma and how it it changes people is an obvious and recurring theme of Torchwood. (I’m still learning how to make edits and things, so this was also a fun way to try some new things!)

5. This is How the Madness Colonizes You

This is here because I’m still relatively interested in/proud of the concept (though I’m less thrilled by the execution). Maybe if I keep returning to the handful of paragraphs I’ve written, I’ll eventually put together a full fic. I’m feeling pretty motivated after listening to Moving Target.

Not sure who to tag/who hasn’t been tagged yet, so if you see this and want to do this, go for it (appreciating/being proud of the things you’ve created is healthy and I support you!)

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

You ask for prompts and I'm here again to seek new content to read: 3. How often do/can they see each other (due to living on different planets, having stressful jobs, etc) with Gashir (/Garakshir) 🤩🤩

 Eyyyyy. I am just gonna… casually fold into this… a little trans-Bashir as a treat…. because it’s trans day of visibility!!! Also I hc Cardassians as intersex, in the sense of they as a species don’t call themselves intersex, but their genders are far more loosely determined at birth, because there’s not really sexual dimorphism (or rather, there is, but it’s so many different factors that it’s not classified) and then gendering comes later in life depending on what role they’re supposed to play in society ahem – different post to make!

Also Garak has a tail in this, also casually.. also this got longer than intended… oops?

—– Letter Analysis ——

1.

Their lives have a sort of normality that many families in this day and age exist with. Space travel, careers that necessitate being off-planet for long stretches at a time, the struggles of being a representative for entire planets or systems, all of this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Still, it takes them a little while to adjust, if only because they spent so long not getting it together that now that they have, well, they want to savour it. On the flip-side their relationship functions much better than so many who enter into partnerships of some kind without fully considering the difficulties of spending so much time apart and inevitably crumble.

Because of all that time they know, without a doubt, that their lives are entwined for good, regardless of how much of it they spend without one another’s physical company.

They fall into letter-writing naturally. After all, they had been doing the same before, why stop now.  

2.

It has become something of a competition at this point: who can write the longest letter. Thus far, Julian is winning and Elim is still in the process of reading his when they see one another again. He pretends to be blasé about it, but Julian can read him easily these days. He wonders at the time when he couldn’t and can’t really picture it.

While Elim is giving him a back-handed compliment at the way he’s managed to fold three words worth of content into whole paragraphs, Julian realises that he’s never known anyone as well as he knows Elim. And every detail of himself is known in turn. From the scars of his chest surgery that he purposefully kept, to the ridges at the base of Elim’s tail, it feels like everything about them was perfectly made for the other.

It’s strange, how many tiny moments are filled with love, they both learn.

(After Elim sends him a letter of 3000 pages, Julian simply answers: You win).

3.

They consider what it would be like to have a family with the way their lives are run. Elim generally lives on Cardassia unless his diplomatic duties take him elsewhere, while Julian is hopping from emergency to medical find to distress call to conference.

Still, they approach the matter on the premise that it will happen. Their letters during these years follow a trajectory of thought with little variation, as they can’t actually be together for the discussion.

They discuss pregnancy – both of them are capable of bearing a child, but the time needed (nine earth months for humans, even longer for cardassians) makes it a challenging prospect. Moreover Julian and Elim, each for their own reason, have issues with concepts surrounding an uncontrollable force fundamentally changing their bodies.

It doesn’t take them long to agree that adoption was always the only option. Still there’s the matter of their careers being incompatible with children. Neither of them wants to put a child in harm’s way and both of their careers contain elements of danger. I believe, writes Elim drily and with an underlying sadness that Julian wishes he could heal, that this sixth assassination attempt may contain a sign that a child would not be particularly safe in my company.

4.

The way this resolves itself is oddly perfect for what they need and who they are and comes through both of their continued work with mixed-species war-orphans, who more often than not are homeless, ostrasized and suffering from any number of easily treatable diseases. Garak opens a series of institutions in the name of Ziyal and habitually lends a hand in their various gardens where he befriends a number of the kids.

This plan also works to ground a lot of Julian’s focus in the space of mixed-species research, specifically writing papers on the future of the galaxy needing to see species integration for the sake of these kids as an inevitability as cultures mix and to understand the medical and cultural implications thereof.

Kira and Ro get heavily involved on the Bajoran side of things – in general a bunch of adults from DS9 days come together to give kids a better chance than they had.  

Beyond that though, they come to realise that they’re okay on family. With these kids – many of whom they get to know personally over the years – with Molly and Yoshi O'Brien and Rebecca Sisko getting older and the two of them functioning as uncles, there’s more than enough for them to be getting on with on the children front: Elim and I were very happy to see you all again – Don’t worry, I’ll keep Yoshi safe – we’ll be making a stop at Bajor where Nerys is very excited to see him again –

Their circle is actually a sizeable, cross-galaxy household. They come to realise that it doesn’t matter if your family is someone you can’t see often, what matters is they’re all inhabiting the same space.

5.

They don’t argue often. With the lack of time they have together, what would be the point of raising petty squabbles. There are things like the time Julian forgot about a very important dinner that Elim was a guest of honour at, which opened up a box of the kind of loneliness Elim thought he’d overcome, but it wasn’t about anger or arguing, it was about the two of them figuring out that sometimes this not seeing one another was actually damned hard. It was about asking for forgiveness and receiving it even before the asking. It was about making sure that they wouldn’t let things ever be unsaid, because their time together – comparative to their whole lives – was always going to be so short.

The actual worst long-standing consequence is that Elim and Julian are political celebrities, and so whatever tabloid-equivalent exists publishes one thousand pieces on their apparently irreconcilable relationship. Julian finds himself referred to as everything from a “heartthrob who found he needed more,” to “a cheater who habitually has several affairs at once.”

It’s amazing, remarks Elim in his latest letter, how these kinds of spurious articles are written even today, and how they still don’t seem to know the facts. On that note I hope you have a wonderful time with Data, and Parmak sends his love from my lap - it’s making it very hard to write this.

6.

They’re both twenty years older by now, but things aren’t slowing down with their work by the looks of things. Julian’s work centres more and more on the various groups whose medical needs are considered less valid or even non-medical, because of their social status and who often have medical issues of kinds that don’t come up in normative societies – mixed-species, augments, A.I. (for awhile his standing suffers, when he argues that mechanical needs for A.I. ought to be taught in Starfleet Medical), non-bipedal species, Ex-B’s, Jem'Hadar, clones.

Elim keeps his Carrington Award on the wall for everyone to see. Partly to mess with him – To The Prestigious Winner of the CA – many of his letters begin for several years after, but mostly out of pride.

(In return and with as much love, Julian addresses him as Ambassador and Castellan – the joke evolves as they find ever more flowery titles for one another. Julian wins this one: My Dearest, the Ambassador to the United Federation of planets, Castellan of the Cardassian Union, Blusher when Being Whispered Compliments about the Length of Your Tail, Not-So-Secret Reader of Austen and Pratchett, Seducer of Doctors (No Doubt Currently Spluttering in Denial), Possessor of Biteable Ridges (Blushing Again, I Hope) and of My Heart… this opening continues a further four pages. The letter itself reads: I expect to land on Cardassia within the next three days. Surprise.)

7.

At the end of it all, Julian finally comes to Cardassia for good. Along the way it’s become his home more than any planet, station, starship, or system, for the simple fact that he’s been returning to Elim, and Elim is home.

There’s a strangeness to all the time they have. The walks they take, the languid mornings, the discussions of books they’ve read whilst in each other’s company, it’s all far more surreal than the years spent wanting to see one another again and catching whatever moments they could.

They can’t shake the habit of writing one another letters, even as they’re sitting in the same room. They don’t need to be long or well-formed any more, although occasionally silly competitions spring up, just for fun.

The one Julian’s reading right now, as Elim’s tail languidly curls around his waist, simply says: I am glad that you’re finally home – E

–— The End ——

Submissions for drabbles are now closed, thank you for sending me asks!

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

[thankyoumskobayashi]

I just misread an earlier part of TGCF (CH.~41-50) and it said that E-Ming was rumored to have been made with the blood of innocents. However, knowing Hua Cheng, I wouldn't be surprised if that scimitar was made with the blood of the cliquey martial and literature gods who made fun of Xie Lian (and were subsequently murdered simultaneously by the demon king Crimson Rain Sought Flower). Knowing now from recent chapters how many boundless oodles of power Hua Cheng has, only a sword made from the remains of gods themselves would be able to handle that much strength without shattering under the power of its master.

And from the perspectives of the rest of the gods in the heavens, the ones who died were "innocent" because these gods don't consider "making fun of Xie Lian" to be a criminal offence. However, a certain idiot prone to falling (both physically & metaphorically) DOES consider that a criminal offence, one for which he Can & Will mete out punishment.

I think it's cool how MXTX explores reframing narratives through misunderstandings, mindsets, and cultural paradigms. This one event can be analyzed from multiple characters' perspectives: "Crimson Rain Sought Flower challenged all the martial gods and all the literature gods to a contest. Everyone except Xie Lian's former assistants participated and all of them lost their lives as a result of being humiliated and reneging on the wager." Hua Cheng, the one setting the wager and doing the killing, probably saw it as dealing with useless trash. Those gods themselves must have seen it as injustice. The newer gods in the heavens don't know Hua Cheng's motives, so they consider him capricious and dangerous. They regard him with fear, and attempt to pass along that fear to Xie Lian, who hasn't been to the heavens for hundreds of years and therefore doesn't know any of the news or gossip.

It's also interesting to see Xie Lian's opinions grow as he meets Hua Cheng first, then listens to hearsay afterwards. He gets to know Hua Cheng, and sees him as a carefree, knowledgeable, generous person who likes to joke around. Then he is told that Hua Cheng is a capricious and dangerous person liable to turn on you at any moment. His motives are shrouded in mystery. However, these rumors end up slam-dunked in the garbage by Xie Lian because he sees Hua Cheng differently than the rest of the gods in the heavens. Hua Cheng is generous towards and protective of him, to the point of actually fighting well when he defended Xie Lian against Pei Su and the snakes. He fought seriously that time, according to Xie Lian, not allowing a single scratch to land on the Flower Crown Prince.

The play that was performed at the Lantern-counting festival which depicted the blossoming romance between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian probably baffled some, but perhaps some of the gods now believe that Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are in love. I just realized this play might have been written by Wind Master, who saw those two get stuck together with RuoYe during the sandstorm lol

Anyways, I forget where this was supposed to go, but maybe it doesn't have a point so I can write whatever I want. Hua Cheng could have future sight which is why he warned Xie Lian to avoid Wind, Earth & Water Masters, Ling Wen, and the rest of the Heavens for a time. He could be haunted by visions of Xie Lian getting falsely accused & slandered again. We already know this is the worst torment to him, he admitted it during the dice game which was a ploy to test if Earth Master was the Reverend of Empty Words. After this each paragraph is its own idea. They aren't always connected, except through my own convoluted train of thought.

Even though Hua Cheng set his Divine SkypeTM password to something super lovey dovey and/or horny I bet he can communicate telepathically with E-Ming.

After Xie Lian gave Hua Cheng his bamboo hat when they were planting rice, I bet Hua Cheng was hyped up on "he gave me his hat to show everyone that I'm his" energy. He was probably annoyed that these lowly mortals were harassing his love about the Demon King's relationship status and sauntered over to say "I'm already married." But he was silently adding after that, "in my heart...." 

After Hua Cheng denied that whole business about having a lover, Xie Lian smiled and told him, "you liar." Mind you, this is after that scene in the QianDang Temple where Xie Lian holds up the white flower that Hua Cheng once made a symbol for him, and asks "This is the flower you are pursuing, right?" Hua Cheng is under the impression that Xie Lian is aware of his romantic intentions towards him. So he goes, "yeah that thing about me having a lover is a lie. I just haven't won them over yet." Not realizing that Xie Lian is still hurt about the joking about marriage thing from the other day.

From Hua Cheng's perspective, that joke was only considered a joke to lessen (for him) the pain of not being immediately engaged to Xie Lian. He was probably trying to see if Xie Lian was into him or not, gauge how he was doing at winning his lifelong crush's affections. Since Xie Lian has been a depressed wanderer for literal centuries, the concept of getting married and having someone to live with must be something he fundamentally believed wasn't for him. Besides, there was that whole "being the laughingstock of the heavens" thing, so he probably internalized the idea that no one would ever want him.

Hubris was Xie Lian's tragic flaw, and for that he paid with his country, the existences of every place he loved, his family, his people, his temples, his reputation + corresponding godly powers, and most importantly, his confidence. He learned humility the hard way, and now hesitates to trust other people. These are mental health problems Hua Cheng can encourage him to overcome, but ultimately the hard work must be done by Xie Lian.

Another thing working against Hua Cheng is the fact that Xie Lian is so old. Hua Cheng is as well, probably around 790 years to Xie Lian's 800, but that is not what I mean by that. Xie Lian being so old means he's gotten used to meeting people, living with them for a while, and then moving on in life as he wanders away or they kick him out or something. He considers Hua Cheng's presence an unlikely yet welcome one, but doesn't expect him to stay in his life for very long. Unless this is addressed directly in words by Crimson Rain Sought Flower, I foresee Xie Lian continuing to act like Hua Cheng is an extended houseguest when the latter believes "I live here." Even if they do end up moving to another small shrine.

Speaking of shrines, Hua Cheng never promised Xie Lian to build him shrines but did anyway. In contrast, the humans who were saved by Xie Lian end up making empty promises of shrines and such. However, Hua Cheng not only built him a shrine, he made a huge fuckin' Sword Collection just to impress Xie Lian because of the one time he got lectured on swords by Xie Lian. I haven't reread that part recently but I know the gist of it was "swords don't seem like your thing so you should use a scimitar instead that'd work really well for you." Boom: 800 years later Hua Cheng wields a legendary scimitar, E-Ming. In the times when Xian Le was still around, Hua Cheng listened to Xie Lian on everything except "forget about me." Because that would have meant ignoring Xie Lian's earlier request, "make me your reason for living." If Hua Cheng had ignored that previous request, which was filled with genuine concern for his wellbeing, he would have had no reason to live and probably would've met a miserable end. But instead, he determined to follow Xie Lian to the godly realm - by becoming a god himself. Probably a martial god, too. He had to be exactly like his hero.

Speaking of being just like his hero, I have some thoughts on why Hua Cheng didn't accept Xie Lian's offer to live at the Palace. One might think it's primarily because Qi Rong would attempt to kill him again but I bet that was simply a minor extra reason. The main reason he didn't stay at the Palace was bc Xie Lian wasn't there most of the time, either due to Crown Princely duties or cultivation at the mountain temple. Hua Cheng, even as a kid, wanted Xie Lian to pay attention to him. Hearing "live for me" was probably as much of a lifeline because Xie Lian was paying attention to him at that critical moment, an equal reason I believe to the content of the message Xie Lian gave itself. "Being encouraged by someone you look up to is a wonderful feeling" is a message MXTX also put in MDZS, when Wei Wuxian encourages the Cloud Kids during the Yi City arc. And the timing of that encouragement holds just as much weight for Hua Cheng as having his hero give him a reason to keep living.

And that reason, as was evidenced by Hua Cheng's descent from godhood to becoming a Supreme Level Demon (I think they're the strongest/rarest type? There were 4 categories mentioned in the beginning. Below Supreme is Menace), is to become strong enough to protect the love of his life. The first thing Hua Cheng did once he crashed the Volcano Party to become the strongest Demon was challenging all the gods in the heavens to the wager and killing them once they lost and didn't uphold their ends of the bargain. He was full of the same wrath that Xie Lian was filled with during his second ascension- that time Xie Lian ascended to the heavens, started an all-out brawl in Jun Wu's courtroom, and then got kicked/demoted after like 5 mins. So people were making fun of Xie Lian after this event too, and Hua Cheng, filled with righteous anger that NO ONE in the so-called "just" heavens was standing up for the love of his life, decided to take matters into his own hands. (I think one of the two assistants in the beginning mentions Hua Cheng became a Demon Supreme after Xie Lian's second ascension and before his third ascension, but I just didn't remember it until now.)

If Hua Cheng was a meme, he'd be that "I've only known Xie Lian for 800 years, and if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in the heavens and then Qi Rong."

Because he knows if something happens to HIM, Demon Lord Supreme, there will be a power vacuum and Xie Lian's safety won't be guaranteed. Ok so that's abt it. Sorry to everyone on mobile, I threw a readmore in there but you wouldn't know that as you have to scroll through all of this rambling.

[s0meday0neday]

Warm and Terrified Outtakes #1

I’m not even sure where this came from, I had in no way planned to write any more flashback chapters, but when I started writing this morning this just came out. The more I wrote it, the more I realised it didn’t really fit in the fic, but I thought some of y’all might enjoy seeing a little outtake.

A look into John’s teenage years. Ending is abrupt, because I just stopped writing once I realised I didn’t want to keep this in the fic.

John figured out when he was thirteen that he didn’t particularly like alphas.

He’d just started year nine, and while most of the year group were having a talk about their O-level options, John was sat in what would be the first of many ‘Life Skills’ classes. The name wasn’t entirely accurate – it wasn’t a class to teach John the skills he would need for the life he wanted. It was a class to teach John the skills he would need for the life an omega was expected to have. Just thinking back to thirty minutes ago, when he’d had to awkwardly explain to Roger where he was going, made John want to sink into the floor.

To distract himself from that particular memory, John flicked through the slim textbook they’d been given, outlining the content of the so-called ‘subject’.

Chapter 1: Growing into yourself

John winced and quickly skipped over those pages, hoping the course wasn’t taught in chapter order.

Chapter 2: What the law says

That could be useful at least, John supposed, but it seemed to be the shortest chapter in the book. He skim-read a few paragraphs – most of it was stuff he knew already – before moving on.

Chapter 3: Your place in society

It was another relatively short chapter, and John didn’t even want to know what it said. He skipped it.

Chapter 4: Your future mate

And there it was. No question marks, no conditional tense, just black-and-white print that has a dreadful finality about it. For an alpha, finding a mate and settling down was an option – a very desirable option for most – but an option nonetheless. For an omega, it wasn’t. Omegas were sparse and in-demand. Just like the textbook, the world around John had assumed from the day he was born that he was going to settle down with an alpha sometimes before he turned twenty.

It didn’t matter that most of the time, John found the scent of alphas overpowering and unpalatable. It didn’t matter that he wanted to go to university before settling down. It didn’t matter that getting attention from his alpha classmates – although it thrilled some baser part of him – more often than not made him so nervous he thought he might be ill. It didn’t matter that John felt a little spark of something warm in his chest every time his best friend looked his way, because Roger was a beta and-

“John, could you read the next paragraph for us?”

He’d been completely zoned out, wasn’t even sure what paragraph they were on, or what page they were on, until one of his classmates leaned over to point it out for him. Chapter 4, page 1, third paragraph. John pursed his lips, skimming the text before he started to read.

“While unmated, you should be open and courteous to any displays of interest from alphas around you. You should…”

As he read, John’s mind wandered to Roger again. Roger expected him to be mated off one day, even if that fact was never spoken aloud, it loomed in background of every conversation they had about the future. And John couldn’t help but think that maybe, if that expectation wasn’t there, Roger might start to see him the way he saw Roger.

Though the thoughts had been slowly crystallising in his head for months now, it was only when he got home that night, and sat alone in his room that John really let himself admit it. He wasn’t interested in alphas. He wasn’t interested in being treated like some lesser, delicate thing. He wasn’t interested in a relationship where his partner had so much power over him and he had almost none over them.

More than anything, he wasn’t interested in being with anyone but Roger.

It was a frightening thought. So frightening that he pushed it aside, and refocused on the disassembled remote control on his desk. All these feelings wouldn’t matter much for another few years, after all, so he would just take a leaf from Roger’s book and try to ignore dynamics and their implications for another few years.

If only it was that easy.

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

Roger had been dating John for a month, though neither of them had been brave enough yet to put that label on the slow kisses they shared when they were sure nobody would walk in on them. The way John kissed him was unlike how anybody had kissed Roger before – the other boy was gentle, and thorough, and looked at Roger afterwards like he’d hung the stars in the sky. It was so nice that Roger didn’t particularly mind that things hadn’t gone any further. The whole thing still felt a bit taboo, after all, and he knew John was a virgin, so it made sense to move forward in baby steps.

Things took a turn one evening, when Roger was over at John’s house. He far preferred spending time together in John’s room, because the place smelled like John, and had his personality all over it – from the neatly-made bed, to the constantly evolving electronics projects John had set up on his desk, to the box of chocolates Roger had bought him last week, that John was taking his sweet time to savour, even though they were a bit cheap.

They hadn’t gotten to kissing yet, content for now just to enjoy each other’s quiet company as John did his maths homework and Roger nosed through his things looking for something interesting. He eventually found something, in the form of a slim textbook tucked in a pile of old textbooks under John’s bed.

‘Life Skills: Book 3’

It rang a bell. Roger could vaguely remember John taking some funny omega classes back before sixth form, but since John had barely spoken about them, Roger had no idea what they involved.

Curious, he flipped open the textbook. It was in a much worse state than John’s other textbooks, looking like it had been stuffed to the bottom of his bag in a hurry on more than one occasion, and with a few worksheets stuffed haphazardly between the pages. Roger tugged out one sheet, eyebrows shooting up when he saw the subject matter. He cast a glance over to John - who was turned away, busy with his homework still – before looking at the sheet in question. It was pretty simple, four questions in bold and then John’s handwritten answers – though it was obvious from the layout that the teacher had expected John to write far more than the few words he had scrawled in.

My first heat came when I was: 15

My heats are regular / irregular

Write how you feel about heats currently: Not good

Write how you think you will feel about heats when you’re mated: Not good

It seemed like the weirdest thing to make a bloody worksheet about, if Roger’s understanding of heats was anything close to accurate. It explained at least why John hadn’t ever spoken about those classes. He was about to tuck the sheet back in and put the textbook away when he noticed the title of another worksheet sticking out.

‘My Ideal Mate’

Roger’s curiosity got the better of him, and pulled it out to have a read.

Similarly to the last worksheet, the layout looked a little juvenile, considering John must have been about sixteen when asked to fill it out. There was a stick figure in the centre of the page, and instructions to ‘List the features you look for in an alpha’. Just as with the worksheet, John seemed to have put in minimal effort. He’d only written three phrases in the vast blank space provided.

Kind

Values higher education

Not an alpha

“Put that down.”

John’s voice was sharp, and so unexpected that Roger dropped the sheet abruptly. When he looked up at John, his expression was hard to read – a mix between about twenty different emotions – and Roger couldn’t tell if his cheeks were flushed with anger or with embarrassment.

“I was just-“

“Being nosy, yes, I know. It’s not any of your business,” John snapped, snatching the worksheet and the textbook away from Roger and walking away to shove them into the bin.

“Sorry,” Roger said, a little nervous. He wasn’t used to John reacting so badly to… well, to anything, really, “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

(sorry again for the abrupt ending! Thanks for reading, new chapter should be out sometime before Thursday if all goes to plan)

[hyunmintae]

Heartbeat

A/N: This was just a story/au/imagine that I had been writing on for quite a while. It isn’t the first I’ve written, but it is the first I’ve actually posted. Sorry for any grammar mistakes that I didn’t catch and sorry if it’s not good! The sentence(s) before each paragraph are lyrics to the song, or lyrics, plus words I added to better fit the scene. 

Backstory incase it’s confusing: Y/N and Jungkook have been friends, best friends, for years. Since they were little, Y/N fell in love with him, but the love isn’t shared. Jungkook falls in love with another girl during this time, and she finds out and Y/N’s feelings and tells Jungkook that if he doesn’t push Y/N away, she’ll leave him for good. Jungkook chose the girl instead of Y/N. To make her leave him alone he yelled at her, pushed her so heard she fell, but each time she comes back to him, and he does it all over again until finally he tells her he hates her and was only her friend because he felt bad for her. 

Song: Steady 1234 

~A Steady beat goes 1, 2, 3, 4

~Y/N’s P.O.V

Hearts keep steady beats, you can count them on your fingers, on your toes, in your head. Sometimes, the beat rises and it ceases to be steady, it rises so high you think you’ll pass out, or take your last breath right then. Certain things cause this, anger, sadness, happiness, Love. Love is one of many things that can take your breath away and ruin the steadiness of you heart. Love can do many things to you. 

~A Steady Heart goes “I love you more”

My heart was always steady a few years after I met you, but every time you smiled that certain smile, or hugged me super tight: my heart wasn’t so steady anymore and it screamed for me to tell you how I really felt. Alas, I never could. Not when you came to my door crying because that girl broke your heart, not when you told me you loved me, as a best friend of course, not when you told me you were leaving for a year or more to go study and meet new people. Not even when you pushed me away, and told me I meant nothing to you, and you were only my “best friend” because you felt sorry for me. My steady hurt beat ceased to exist and it was simply slow, so slow, it was like you killed me that day. 

~I’m waiting for you, Tell me that you’re here I’m waiting for you, I won’t disappear

Even after all the times you pushed me away, shoved me to the ground and yelled in my face. I refused to leave you, I waited for you everyday, to take back those awful things you said. To tell me you didn’t mean them and that you loved me, like I loved you. So, I’m here, waiting for you and I refuse to leave. Even though you keep screaming for me to go.

~I won’t go, I won’t stay.

You showed up at my door the day after you shoved me away, mentally and physically. You had tears running down your cheeks, eyes bloodshot and oh, so red. You were mumbling apologies and how you were so stupid, I just stared at you wondering why you were even here. I frowned when you finally looked up at me. 

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you. No matter what. But I’m not saying that I’ll stay either.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I looked at you with no emotion. I sighed as I closed the door in your face, sliding down it, I ran my fingers through my hair. “Why’d you have to go and make me fall in love with you, Jungkook?” I mumbled to myself, fresh tears making their way onto my cheeks.

~Broken Love but it’s beautiful

5 years. It’s been 5 years since I finally pushed you away like you pushed me away, just more gently. I saw you the other day, you were holding that girl’s hand, the one that broke your heart all those years ago, the one who was there each time you pushed me away and told me to leave you alone. You look happy. Happier than the last time I saw you, happier than you ever were with me. I smiled through my pain, because I still love you, but our love is broken, but it’s beautiful but it was never ours to begin with

~Jungkook’s P.O.V

“Yeah, I guess I’m an asshole, We became best friends, you fel in love with me, I shattered your heart quite quickly.”

I wasn’t aware of your feelings, I wasn’t aware of my own. I met Laney when we started high school, I quickly fell in love with her. I thought she was what I had always wanted. Little did I know, the one person I needed most, was by my side the whole time. When Laney told me about Y/N’s feelings, I was shocked and didn’t believe her. Then she began to show me certain messages and pictures, things she’d stolen from your phone when you left it at school one day. She told me if I didn’t stop being friends with Y/N, she’d break up with me and leave me for good this time. So, I pushed Y/N away. I chose someone I had just met 5 months ago over someone I had known my whole life and who was there for me after Laney dumped me the first time. Y/N was there for me when my parents fought, when my brother got sick. She was there for me on my good days, my bad days, everyday. Now, I’m regretting it all and I’m watching Y/N shut the door in my face and 5 years later as I’m watching Laney make-out with one of my best friends. 

~A steady beat goes 1, 2, 3, 4, A steady heart goes, “I love you more”

~Third Person P.O.V

Jungkook saw Y/N walking through the park, she still looked as beautiful as the day he first met her, but much more beautiful now, and quite older. She had a small smile on her face, her eyes were closed as her head was tilted toward the sun, she always loved bathing in the sun like that. She resembled a cat, he thought. However, when Y/N noticed him her smile seemed to falter. He quickly walked to her before she had the chance to run away from him again. “Please.” He whispered. Y/N stopped and looked at him, “Please? Please what?” She mumbled, pulling her wrist from his hold. “I’m sorry. I was stupid, and I didn’t know what I had until you were gone. I didn’t know you were all I needed until you finally let me go. I didn’t know-” Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued. 

“-I didn’t know I was in love with you until you shut that door in my face and I never saw you again.” He finished, tears brimming his eyes. 

Y/N scoffed softly and looked down, “You mean to tell me, five years after I finally realized what I really meant to you, that now you’re apparently in love with me?” Y/N shook her head and began to move away from him.

“Please! Just give me one more chance. One more chance to prove to you how sorry I am! How sorry I was that day I yelled at you and pushed you down!” Jungkook yelled, reaching for Y/N’s hand this time and grasping it tightly.

“You chose her over me Jungkook. You didn’t even hesitate to chose her! You left me! After everything I-” Y/N’s words were cut short as Jungkook kissed her, pouring ever bit of affection and love and ever other emotion he felt into it. Y/N was shocked at first, but then she melted into his arms and kissed him back, pouring just as much emotion and more into the kiss. 

“I love you. I love you so much and you have no idea how much it hurt me when I  realized I lost you for good that day. I was stupid and thought I was in love with Laney. But I was in love with you and I was trying to suppress it because I didn't want to ruin what you and I had.” Jungkook spoke quietly.

“What about Laney now? I saw with her the other day... you looked happy with her...” Y/N mumbled, going to pull away from the boy’s hold. “Yeah, that was until I caught her making out with Jenoy in her apartment that same day.” Jungkook mumbled, a small smile playing on his lips at he looked down at Y/N. 

Y/N smiled softly at Jungkook before punching him in the shoulder. “You’re an idiot.” Y/N whispered. “But I’m your idiot.” Jungkook responded before kissing Y/N again, softly, but passionately. 

@kpopisthereasonihavenolife here it is.

[anthropwashere]

@proserpine-in-phases tagged me in a thing about writing, so naturally I’m going to do this instead of write!

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

A lot of my deadfics end up stalling out over research roadblocks. I’ll flub my way through one scene with the intent to come back after I’ve done my Google-fu, and then another, and another, aaaaand that’s now too much work. 

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

A JTHM fic I wrote in high school that ended up deadfic because I ran off to BMT. It was well-received at the time but looking at it now? It’s just so ow, the edge. I’ve low-key considered tearing it down and rewriting it, but it’s been ten years and I can’t even recall where I was going with it. 

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

90% chronological with a lot of snippets for later scenes piled haphazardly at the end of every Gdoc. of all the things that might have been was the big exception. There’s 28k posted and another 50k trapped behind a heap of writer’s block. :C

4) favorite character you’ve written?

Gee, I wonder!

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing?

Winry Rockbell. Not my usual character type to write by far, but she was just as surprisingly fun to write.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

A ton of older fic on AO3 has a lot of weird formatting and grammatical errors. I think it’d be easy to get hung up over changes I’d want to make to various giftfics I’ve written over the years as well.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I can count on one hand the number of real life people who know I write and have fingers left over. I hate talking about my writing face-to-face. 

8) favorite genre to write?

Mmm, suspense/horror? Whatever you call ‘presenting a problem to a character that gets insurmountably worse, and also it would be justified if the character just huddled screaming under a blanket instead of confronting it.’

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Read other fics that handle similar topics/ideas. Look through the literal GBs of refs I’ve got saved. Get out of the house and do something even a little bit out of my norm. Get lost on Wikipedia.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

Music always, rarely near people.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Man, I’ve been writing and posting fics for 15 years now. I have to hope every aspect has improved since I was friggin’ 12 years old writing garbo Mary Sues.

12) your weaknesses as an author?

I can’t concentrate on anything long enough to finish it. More fic ideas than I’ll ever have the energy to commit too. Run-on sentences. I don’t write women almost at all. COMMAS. 

13) your strengths as an author?

I feeeeel like I do a good job of getting the reader into the character’s headspace? I adore limited narrative so when I write a fic I try to commit to that character’s style and personality. I also think I do horror/suspense decently.

15) why did you start writing?

11 year old Lorelei found ffn and went, “Oh shit, this is a thing? Sign me up.”

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

...I’m not sure what this means? 

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

It’s okay to write positive endings, edgelord. Sometimes less is more. Sometimes more is good too, but damn girl, tread carefully. 

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

These seems like a dangerous rabbit hole to fall down, so I’ll just link the most recent fic whose style and impact left me speechless the first time I read it (and envious, and determined, and more than happy to read it three more times).

Divine Right of Kings by Oedipus Tex

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Badly! Which is why I’ve never successfully finished a longfic! But I do try and make outlines or at least a tidy splash of notes at the bottom of the Gdoc. One fic I’m working on right now requires spreadsheets.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Little spurts. NaNo’s been excellent in the past at making me do more than a couple hundred words on a good day. Alas, the last Camp NaNo I signed up for I dipped out of because of my migraines, and I didn’t even bother signing up for July.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

For the most part I consider it all passable, as far back as AO3 goes at least. Anything earlier than that I pretend doesn’t exist. 

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Intimacy, be it porn or fluff. Anything technical I can’t gloss over with some hastily gathered Wikipedian knowledge. Comedy.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I don’t think so? Not much of my personal experience has been applicable to what I’ve written. A bit of geography, maybe?

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I’d never claim to be an expert on anything, but I do try and do my research for fic. Learning new things is my favorite part of writing.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

You may have a snippet from my four biggest FMA wips (all of which are over 15k words and nowhere near done, send help).

- We Are Sisyphus (03 fic where alternate Ed lives.)

Other Ed and Alfons are unpacking groceries, picked up on their way back to the tiny flat above not-Gracia’s flower shop that seems all the smaller with a fourth person inside. Gratia’s come up as well, bearing fresh vases of flowers too damaged to sell but still smell just as sweet. It helps to mask Hohenheim’s reek, something he can’t really help with how advanced his decay’s gotten in their time apart. 

“Surprised you even recognized him,” Ed says under his breath, under pretense of showing him some of the notes he’d brought back. He gives Hohenheim a long, quelling glare out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, considering you left when Al was still practically a toddler.”

“There were more recent pictures at Pinako’s house,” Hohenheim replies, apparently uninterested in taking the hint to back off. “But it’s the way you look at Herr Heiderich that made me realize just who he reminded me so sorely of.”

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“Like you’re grieving.”

- your head will lie in dust (Father wins, makes the five sacrifices immortal. AKA, the Hohenheim fic with the group chat that can’t stop, won’t stop.)

“There was a cut on your cheek,” Hohenheim says.

Edward brings shaking fingers to his face. He digs his nails in as if he’ll tear his skin open just to spite Hohenheim on principle. Then he stops. Shuts his eyes. Lets Mrs. Curtis slide from his lap. “I,” he says. “You’re wrong. You have to be.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He has said this so often now, to so many people over so many years, that the words have lost all meaning. He tongues at the space where regret should be and finds only an empty hole. “Do you hear them?”

Edward flinches in slow-motion, an exercise in arranging the muscles of his face into a tense knot to display his anger, his fear, his grief. Little words for emotions greater than any person should have to bear. Edward flinches and struggles to breathe. He presses his hands over his ears and tilts rigidly to the floor.

- our hands were first to forgive (The Mustang remains blind and gets automail AU nobody asked for.)

It’s unsettling, how easy clapping alchemy has turned out to be.

He’d expected it to be difficult, to be something he’d have to learn through trial and error. He doesn’t know why he thought that. Edward’s never shown any hesitation in the use of it—though when has Edward shown hesitation in anything? Bad example. Not that there are a lot of examples to choose from, and of those he’s only been able to see Alphonse transmute without a circle. That’s a somewhat recent development, isn’t it? Before the boys went up to Briggs. He never thought to ask what had happened to allow Alphonse to abandon circles. It hadn’t occurred to him to think that anything needed to have happened to allow it at all. Knowing the source of clapping alchemy, he doubts it was anything pleasant. One more thing to ask after, once he can see again.

This ability, this… gift? He hesitates to call it that. Unwanted, unasked for, received all the same. Fine. This gift wasn’t learned. It feels grafted into him, weird and rough at its edges, like the scars on his torso his shirts still catch on months after burning Lust to ash. Unnaturally a part of him, but a part of him still. For all the knowledge that was poured into his mind in the Gate, he doesn’t feel like he learned anything.

He feels burned.

- Pour Out Like Light (9 years post-series, Ed finds out Trisha’s illness is hereditary. This absolute bastard of a wip is currently stalled out at over 46k words and nowhere near done.)

He peels a potato, sets it down. A broken, twisted hand reaches over his shoulder to pick it up.

He sets down the vegetable peeler. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you tell Granny?”

“Tell Granny what?”

“You knew it wasn’t the epidemic, didn’t you?” He cups the potato in both hands, in the hand he’s always had and the hand he’d traded away and Al had given back. “If you knew, why didn’t you warn her I’d get sick too? Why didn’t you warn me?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead there’s the heavy, loose-limbed thud of a body collapsing to the floor. It has a wet sound to it, a splattering sound. Her death rattle sucks the sunlight out of the kitchen, strangled and thick with fluid. There is almost, almost the sound of his name.

This post is huge now, wow. Um. Never sure who’s cool with being tagged in these kinds of posts. @ladyyatexel @leda-x @haikujitsu I don’t really talk writing much w/ any of you but you’re all fantastic and it’d be cool to hear some of the thought process behind the fics? No obligation, of course.

[zydrateacademy]

Current Activities - Conan Exiles #4

So I just posted my latest story “Assassination at the Summit”, and while I am proud of its contents, it has some background information. Basically starting at  "Her outside clanmates had been navigating..." was practically written in a blind fury. I’ve calmed down now but this is my blog and I feel like ranting. First off, the character depicted in that story, Dey Yin, is an actual player. She’s an excellent writer and I strive to reach to her level of para-posting, as they give excellent opportunities to reply and react and I want to offer the same to other players when they interact with me. Also, she loves the story.

I am happy with the results as there was some effort put into it. Even in my blind fury, the last few parts turned out well. I’ve also been trying to work on my verb tense. Either I missed that class in school or over a decade of roleplaying has completely rewritten how my brain perceives verb tense. You might notice that my tenses swap between past and present, sometimes within the same line. This is why writers have editors, people. Anyway it was mostly a background plot, like many of my stories are. Basically I like to lay some groundwork before I claim things. I do not simply want to claim to be a whiskey baroness, I want to actually show it. I want people to see, through a narrative, the effort put in importing a whiskey from the outside world. The server is too small for specific events to surround these kinds of things, so I compensate by writing short stories instead. Quick aside; I actually did host an RP event with my character announcing the existence of her clan. It went very well with around ~9 attendees.

Whiskey and fun were had by all. Anyway.  I spoke of this plot in-character with others and another player on the server, someone I’ve been trying to arrange RP with for... years, I think, across a few MMO’s. We’ve met on an ERP gathering website (ya’ll know the one) but our interactions could never quite get sexual. They’re a good writer and roleplayer and they definitely value quality over fluff. I can respect that. We had some meetups in GW2 but maybe we just don’t make characters that gel well because we just couldn’t quite get to the fluffy stuff. Anyway she happens to follow me on CE. Fair enough. No prompting, she just saw that I was playing a lot and figured she’d hop on the ship. She’s doing well on the server, has a whole clan, etc. Good for her. But upon hearing about this plot of mine, her character offers some... assistance. Instead of being a simple assassination, she wants it to be poison. She insists, having an IC personal stake against Khitan generals. Fair enough, but then she hands Livia an actual quest. Get three specific items. The items in question are in fact part of the several artifacts you need to remove your bracelet and “win” the game (which deletes your save file by the way). Not the whole thing, just three of them. The scourgestone was probably the easiest, and I had some IC help from a guy. It was all great fun. Admittedly I was salty at first, adding extra steps to a straightforward plotline. Then I got to writing it out and I enjoyed the idea of dungeon delving being written into it. It started to feel like an actual epic on the likes of Beowulf, Clash of the Titans, and indeed, actual Conan books and lore. Sword and sorcery. I’m not claiming to write as well as any of those (though I’m pretty sure the Conan movies didn’t have any writers, holy shit), but it started to FEEL like an epic RPG story. I didn’t have it completely written out but it had about three full paragraphs worth. Might have eked out an extra two before... bullshit happens. The salt starts to come back when the player drags their feet about getting the last item for the poison crafting. They are focusing on their clan base and that looks fine and all, but a boss hunt only needed to be asked in global “anyone want to help?”, 3-4 people would have done fine and we had 3 at any given moment, each of us with powerful weapons and armor. We could have gotten it at any time. Again, fair on them to a certain extent. I’m sure they have a job and when they were online, she was likely wrangling her clanmates and building assignments. I get that, but... again, we could have had this wrapped up in 15 minutes at any given point. Eventually my character tries to meet with another newbie on the server (as she does) but finds them already at this person’s clan base. Figure it’d be a good time for Livia to check in on the poison and see when we can go hunting but... Well. Let me give you quick context on this person’s character. John Mulaney has a comedy set talking about his father and how straight-laced he tends to be. He recalls a story (true or not, who can tell?) where John himself and some siblings (I think? Other kids?) were screaming for McDonalds. The father pulls into the drive through, orders a single black coffee, and drives away. John states something to the effect of “in retrospect, that was the funniest thing I’ve seen in my entire life”. Well, this person’s character is basically that guy. But a woman. Livia already has stated that she’s got quite the stick up her ass. Anyway they’ve traded barbs as you might expect, Livia being more of a carefree roll-with-punches and make-money kind of woman. Livia drops an offhanded line about “Maybe I’ll just get my people to slit the general’s throat and save me a headache [in dealing with this character]”. All we get in response is “So be it” and are then soon banned from her stronghold. That’s when I lowkey lose it. I don’t explode, I don’t rant, I don’t PM them. In fact, there’s almost no OOC communication between me and this person and I think it worked against us. She never once asked me permission to force a poison subplot in my story. The character just “strongly insisted” and Livia was like “fine, let’s make the thing” and I went off to get two of the three items THAT DAY. A week goes by, then that bullshit happens. What a waste of my time. I keep thinking back to a roleplaying guide I posted on this server’s website. It’s the same one I’ve copied and pasted across many MMO’s I’ve roleplayed on. There’s a section in there that talks about IC drama having no affect on OOC, or it shouldn’t. I’ve spent many years separating IC and OOC, often times whispering people after an OOC argument of like “That was fun, thanks for the RP!” That kind of thing.  Unfortunately, this whole thing did have OOC consequences. The entire plot and story was essentially a gift to the player for being active, friendly, fun to interact with and being a good writer. I wanted to give the player and character something they would appreciate, but instead was delayed by a player insisting on adding a step. And then never stepped forward. It wasted my time and theirs and got in the way of that RP. Thus, I feel like my anger while perhaps not entirely justified, still makes sense in this context. My time was wasted, and now I’m possibly barred from RP with that person and their clan, or at least by going to their base. Not a single word OOCly was spoken between us throughout this. I remember PMing them the paragraph that featured them, asking if there was anything that needed to be changed. They said no, it was fine for the context and remaining an enigma. Fair enough.  That was it. She never asked me permission to bullrush into our plot, nor did I outwardly refuse it. I thought nothing of it, and indeed as I mentioned earlier I did have some fun writing out dungeon adventures and Livia’s general hatred of the jungle biome. There was fun stuff there, class adventuring that I don’t write nearly enough about. Then it was all just negated because the other character absolutely refused to meet mine halfway in terms of diplomacy. Livia tried. I tried. So starting from “Her outside clanmates had been navigating the unknown country...” in that story, it was actually a rush job in fuming rage, so much rage my chest actually hurt for a few minutes. I do think it turned out well but I do believe I could have padded more with describing the architecture, culture, the nuances of Livia’s clan navigating the cities, dodging police and bribing informants. There’s a lot I could have done there but the story could have been done a week ago and instead I was left hanging because one player bullrushed into my plot and didn’t want to go kill a boss. I’m angry. I’m annoyed. Heavy sigh. Now, I still have two more stories to write. I have asked and received a new patron item (you can get some cosmetics if you donate to the server), a glowing polearm.

It looks very badass, especially at night. Actually hurts if you look at it too long. It’s great. I have it named “Imbued Polearm” and I have no idea why or how Livia would be in possession of it. I just saw someone having glowing purple daggers and thought “...I still haven’t requested a weapon decal for my patron perks. I want that a lot.” Was thinking of a Ymir ritual but white and blue is his motif so I’m not sure that’d work. Derketo is the goddess of sex, not weapons, and would sooner imbue Livia was a penis to properly spread seed long before she’d give her followers a badass weapon. Next story will be a little easier to write. I discovered with some proper dying the reptile armor does not look half bad at all. The aforementioned guy friend says it looks better on females than males, and I believe it;

Not sure why Tumblr blows that way the fuck up but there you go. Due to quality loss, it does look decent in-game. Definitely a “demon dragon slayer” type story to be had there. Was brainstorming that an alpha got tired of some adventurer killing all their babies at the spawning grounds... Next time Livia goes hunting she’d be in for quite the surprise.

All that and I didn’t even get into my clan growing and even having someone build me a proper stronghold.

Currently can house 6 clanmates with a master bedroom for myself. I plan on adding another floor to make way for 4 more rooms as I tend to get members when Livia goes save newly exiled players from the river. It’s actually in that building the above party screenshot took place. (There’s currently two spare rooms, I believe. Hint hint, come join us.)

[lalahbug]

The Informant - Levi x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 4,982

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general Modern/Mafia AU

Author’s Note: continued under story Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 01/05.2017. Revamped/edited in 2020.

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut

          “Hey, boss.” Eren knocked on Levi’s door.

          “What?”

          “It seems a new informant is in town. You know, since we disposed of the last one. You want them on the payroll?”

          “What, are you a fucking idiot, of course. Have them come in tonight.”

          “To the club?”

          “Tch. Eren, were you dropped on your head as a child?”

          “I don’t know, did you drop me at all.” Eren teased his adoptive father.

          “Shut up, get the new information dealer here, tonight, in the club.”

          “Sure thing.” Eren walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

          Levi was leaning back on a couch, the normal whores were clinging to him, annoying the hell out of him. The club music was thumping through the building.

          “Eren!” Levi barked. Eren quickly popped into the VIP area. “Where’s my informant?”

          “They should be here soon.”

          “What do we know about them?”

          “Nothing. They just got in town, I don’t even know their name. I sent out word they were wanted at the club tonight. We got a handwritten note from them saying they’d be here.”

          “Who the fuck handwrites notes, why didn’t they just tell someone.” Eren shrugged and Levi clicked his tongue at him.

          “I’ll go see if I can find them!” Eren darted off, knowing he was about to be in trouble for not knowing more.

          Levi groaned while standing up, pushing the groupies off of him. He decided to go check on the bar. While overlooking everything, he stopped his gaze on a woman, who was fully clothed, no skin other than her face and neck showing. She was leaning against the wall, hands in her hoodie pockets, combat boots crossed. She was just watching, ignoring everyone, having headphones on. She didn’t stand out to others, blending into the shadows, but to Levi, she did stand out. Mainly because she wasn’t wearing anything see-through or skimpy. She was wearing a short shoulder-length black wig.

               “What do you want, Ackerman?”

          Levi didn’t realize he had walked over to her. “How do you know my name?” He growled at her.

          “Well, you are the one who wanted me here.”

          “Tch. You’re the new informant in town.” She glanced up at him as if asking if he was that stupid to ask that. “We need to talk, follow me to my office.” He started to walk away but noticed she stayed put. “Oi, brat, you deaf. I said, follow me.”

          “You don’t have any right to boss me around, ask instead of demand,” Levi growled at her a bit. “I came here because you need me. I don’t need you and if you threaten me. I have enough proof and information to bring down your whole operation.”

          Levi was a bit shocked by this news and glared at her. “Will you follow me?”

          “Yes.” She pushed off the wall and walked up next to him.

               Once in his office, Levi closed and locked the door. ___ pulled off her jacket since they were upstairs and now it was even hotter. Even in a simple black long-sleeved shirt, she oozed sex appeal to Levi. He loved watching her body move, even to the way she gently sat down and crossed her legs.

          “So, what information did you want?”

          “I want you on my payroll. Meaning, any information you get, you bring it to me. You get a weekly salary off of this agreement.”

          “No.”

          “Tch. What did you say?”

          “Are you deaf? No. I already told you. I don’t need you. You need me. I already have my clients set up. If you need information, you pay me half of my asking price, upfront, then once I get you the information. You pay up the rest. I’m very knowledgeable. I already have all of the other mob bosses in this town under me. The only one left, is you. You can take it or leave it.” She was cold and factual, there was only confidence and power behind her voice. 

          However, she was talking to the most powerful mob boss in this rotten city. However being under her in another sense didn’t sound bad. Levi is the most powerful man in this city and will not be under some woman’s shitty thumb.

          “Then leave, I’m not under anyone's orders. I give orders, I don’t take them. I don’t need you. Goodbye.”

          “Well, then I’ll take my leave. Have a great night.” With that, she stood without another glance at him, put on her jacket, and left. Closing the door behind her.

          “That bitch. Who does she think she is.”

          “Boss!” Jean burst into Levi’s office.

          “Oi! Did you forget how to knock, horse-face?”

          “It’s an emergency. That informant who has been here for a few months. She’s been getting information somehow and giving it to Erwin. He burned our stock!”

          “Get that bitch or one of Erwin’s grunts here. Now!” Levi barked.

          The noise of a precise slap echoed in the room as Levi stepped in. He pushed the other man out of the way. To see ___ tied to the chair, heavily beaten.

          “What the fuck, why are you beating her up. I need information, you beat her, now you’ve made my job even fucking harder.” Levi growled, she had a couple of scratches, cuts, a black eye, and was bruised on her cheek.

          “She was very unwilling to come here.” Eren piped up from the corner, Levi looked over to glare at him. Eren and Armin were both disheveled, cut and swollen lips, black eyes. “She put a fight, it took all three of us to get her down into that chair."

          Levi looked at ___, who then spat the blood out of her mouth near his shoes.

          “To what do I owe the pleasure of this kidnapping.” She sat up straight, making her words drip with sarcasm and venom.

          “Who did you talk to to get the information you gave Erwin?” Levi pulled up a chair to sit in front of her. 

          “I’m an informant. You will pay me, I will tell you.”

          “Tch. Fine, I need to get this rat. Name your price.”

          “Remember there are two payments. One I will name now, the other will be named after I give you the name you want.”

          “Bitch. You don’t seem to realize the situation you’re in.”

          “You seem to have forgotten, I already have all of the mob bosses in this town, under me. You mess with me any further. You will start a war. And if I don’t get paid and untied within 5 minutes. I will send my files to bring you down through the police.”

          Levi growled at her. He wanted to hit her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had underestimated her months ago and did it again just now. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk now that his grunts had to manhandle her.

          “3 minutes, Ackerman.”

          “Untie her.” Levi barked. Eren quickly did so. ___ stood and stretched.

          “Now my first payment will be; 1. My backpack that was torn from me, it should still be in the car I was dragged here in. 2. You will grant me any amenities and safe haven; I need at the drop of a hat. Meaning,” she sat back down in front of Levi. Her jacket was draped off her shoulder, she was wearing a gray tank top today. The most skin he’s ever seen from her. She leaned back, throwing an arm over the back and crossed her legs.

She cleared her throat. “Meaning, you will not do this shit again. Meaning, anything information I sell, even if it hurts you, THE MESSENGER WILL NOT BE TOUCHED.” She shouted at him. She finally showed some anger, some emotion. “If you ever put a price on me and put my safety in danger again, this agreement ends. And. I. Will. Bring. You. Down.” She stared daggers at him.

          Levi raised an eyebrow, she was smart. She wasn’t in it for just the money. She was in it to be the most powerful and most protected woman in the world.

          “I will never sell anyone your information that could tear your operation down. The same goes for my other clients. That is only for me.” Levi still had an eyebrow raised at her. She was intimidating but not scary. “Are you listening to me? Ackerman, if you make this deal and you go back on it. I have clients all over the world. You turn on me. You will bring war upon everyone under you.”

          “I get it, brat. Get her shit.”

               Levi and ___ sat in silence glaring at each other. Levi was checking her out, her piercings, her tattoos. He even stared at her natural hair, since he had never seen it before. Some about her just made him want to ravish her, he couldn’t decide if it was in a sexual way or a killing her way, yet though.

          Armin came in and gave her the backpack. She opened it and pulled out a file.

          “Before I give you anything. I need you to sign this contract. I only need the last page that you sign, you can keep the rest.”

          “You’re very prepared.”

          “I used to be a lawyer before this.”

          “That doesn’t shock me.” Levi took the paperwork from her. It was only about 4 pages and he signed the one page, handed her the one paper, and kept the file for himself.

          “Okay. Now that we’re on the same page.” She smirked while flapping the signed paper a bit. 

          “Enough of the shitty puns, tell me what I want to know.”

          She leaned over and took out a bigger file. “This is all of the information I sold to Erwin a couple of days ago.”

          “So you’ll resell information?”

          “Hey, this shit is hard to get sometimes. Especially shit on you. I’ll definitely resell info like this.”

          “Have you sold it to anyone else?”

          “Oh, sorry. That information is classified or will cost you extra.” She gave him a fake pout. He growled at her. Damn, she gets under his skin easily.

          “Then you better start a fucking tab.” Which only made her smirk.

          “I sold all of this information about 3 times, Erwin included. Dok and Pixis. Pixis is very much after your spot of the biggest mob boss. He’s even put Erwin to work for him. I wonder if you can figure what happened from that action.”

          “You mean because I refused to work with you. All of the mob bosses in this fucking city are using you to get information on me to work together and put Pixis in charge of this place. Which is why Erwin attacked my stock.”

          “I mean, yeah. That’s the gist of it," she smirked.

          “What else do you know about this?”

          “You know that lovely officer you have on your payroll?” Levi raised an eyebrow, she did know way too much about him. “Well, let’s just say he’s getting a higher pay now, so you’re not safe. Also, Pixis, he’s trying to up his drug market while having his moles here to taint your drugs.”

          “Who are the moles?”

          “It’s in the paperwork. Page 6.” Levi opened the thick packet, turning to page 6, which was a chart. Every man under Pixis, Levi scanned the page until he saw a familiar name.

          “Fuck. Eren. Jean. Oluo. Mike. Go get Reiner and Bertolt. Get information and dispose of them.” Levi was calm as all of the men left the room, his eye started to twitch. “I can’t fucking believe all this shit is happening because you’re too fucking good at your job,”

          “Oh, honey. I’m just good in general. I mean, not morals-wise, but any other way. You better believe I’m good.”

          Levi let his eyes travel over her body.

          “So, I have another appointment I am late to, now because of you. So you’ll be driving me there. Or one of your grunts.”

          “Tch. Connie!” Levi barked. A small boy bolted around the corner. “Take ___ anywhere she needs to go.”

          “Yes, boss!”

          “Seeya, Ackerman!” ___ slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and followed Connie out of the room.

          “That woman. She’ll be my fucking demise or my savior.” Levi ran a hand through his hair.

           A few months of working with ___, Levi was steadily at the top again, even got Pixis to start working under Levi. Everything was going the best it could ever be, for Levi. Everything was so smooth, no moles or spies anymore. Information and communication were flowing amazingly in his organization now.

          “What?” Levi groaned answering his phone at like 3 AM.

          “Levi! I need a car. I need it now. I need to be put into hiding. Now!” Levi rubbed his eye before sitting up.

          “___?”

          “YES!” She screamed, it sounded like she was in pain.

          “Where are you?”

          “I don’t fucking know. I’m bleeding. I’m angry. I’ll send you my GPS location. Please. Get someone to me soon.”

          “You’re bleeding? You said please?” Levi was teasing her a bit.

          “Levi. Please. I just sent you my location.” She sounded weak but she hung up on him.

          Levi tried to call a few people but no one was answering. He sighed and got dressed and headed to her location.

               “___?” Levi walked around the building. Trying to find her.

          “Levi?” He quickly turned to see her collapsed in the entrance of an alleyway.

          “What the fuck are you doing here?”

          “I’m bleeding a lot, I needed to hide. Levi, help me up.” She was trying to be strong and demanding even in a time like this. Reaching a hand out to him, he pushed her hand away. Levi sighed and squatted down and picked her up. She gave some slight protest but was too weak to fight back.

               Since Levi couldn’t get a hold of anyone, he took her to his home. Carried her into the kitchen. While he prepared some rubbing alcohol, things needed to patch her up. ___ hoisted herself up onto the counter, near the sink, and took off her jacket and tank top. Leaving her in her sports bra. When Levi returned she was trying to rinse the blood off her.

          “Oi. You’re going to get blood everywhere.” Levi took a cloth with alcohol to clean her off. She winced a bit while he started cleaning the wounds before stitching her up. But she didn’t cry or yelped at all. “So what happened?”

          “Old client found me. He betrayed me, so I tried to take him down. Caused him a lot of problems before I left. So he’s here to kill me. I need to get more dirt to take him down. It’s my fault for not doing it right before. Ouch!” She glared at Levi as he poured more alcohol over now sealed wounds.

          “Who's your former client?”

          “Darius Zackly or Mister as half of the country knows him.”

          “You had Mister working for you?” Levi was shocked.

          “Yupp, he was under my thumb for a year. Best client ever. Until he tried to get me as a sex partner and make me his own. I thought it was a joke. But still, I turned him down. One day I was selling information on Zackly to someone, who was an alliance of his. The guy was in the mob for 8 years, no family, right-hand man of the other mob. That bastard was an undercover cop. Zackly found out, came after me, even though in our contract, states I can sell information to whoever I want, as long as it has no malicious takedown intent," she sighed. “He didn’t believe me, put a price on my head. So I went to the police, gave all the information about his organization to bring him down. But I didn’t know the DA was recently added to the payroll. So it didn’t get far.”

          “You almost brought down the most powerful man in the country because he put a price on your head.”

          “Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die.” She pushed herself off the counter and stumbled against Levi. “Sorry. I guess I lost more blood than I thought. Can I borrow a clean shirt.” She pushed off him and leaned against his counter.

          “Yeah.” Levi guided her to his couch and sat her down and went to get her a shirt. “The most wanted woman in the world is on my couch, wanted by the most powerful and dangerous man in the country,” Levi grumbled before pinching the bridge of his nose again, he exhaled deeply. “What the fuck did I get myself into?” He sighed softly as he grabbed a clean white shirt.

               ___ was sitting on Levi’s couch, laptop on her lap, headphones on. She was hacking into many different cities and cell phones to listen and get information on Zackly.

          “So is this how you get a lot of your information?”

          “Yeah.” She was curt and quiet, never really asked for anything other than to use things to make food or tea.

          ’She’s stronger than I thought. Not all just attitude. She was stabbed twice but is working away. Mainly to save her life, but she did mumble something about protecting her new clients from Zackly. Making sure he won’t go after them to get to her.’

                    “Yeah, I need to break our contract. I’m in deep shit and I don’t want you involved. When I get it resolved we can sign again.” She was talking on the phone. “Unless you want to go against Mister with me, we need to break up.” She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She had the same conversation about 15 more times. Even in a couple of different languages. Before turning to Levi. “Well, I’m sure you’ve been listening to all of my conversations. I need to break our contract. I won’t drag anyone else into this. This is my fault.” She didn’t look at him, just kept typing.

          “No.” She stopped typing and looked up at him.

          “Levi. You’re going to get everyone in your organization killed. I’ve tried this before. It’s not going to work. We’re breaking the contract. Once my new place is ready, in about 3 hours, I will be leaving and we are breaking apart.” She was stern. But Levi didn’t want her to fight this on her own. She continued working.

          “Isn’t there anything we can do? Any of us?”

          “Unless you can get me a list of every media, every police member and maybe even some people in the FBI that aren’t on Zackly's payroll, no you can’t. I still have proof of all of his exports, illegal guns, and drugs, I have his kill list, I have everyone who works for him and I have every one of his bank accounts and secret hangouts and escape routes. But in order to bring him down. I need to get this information to as many people as possible and to people who are not on his payroll.”

          “I know someone in the FBI, they’re on my payroll, though.” 

          She paused and looked over at him. “Really?” He nodded. In a flash she went over and hugged him, ending up in his lap. “Please, oh please. Give me their name!” She clung to him.

          Levi was shocked at the least, to say. “I can give you their contact information if you want.”

          “Just their work email! I need to send this info out, but I have to do it anonymously. Other witnesses can testify against Zackly. I plan to send that information as well.”

          “Okay.” He had a glint in his eye that suddenly made her glare at him. “It’s going to cost you, though.” She groaned. “You’re an informant, you should have seen this coming.”

          “I thought you just wanted to help me.” She went to stand up, Levi wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her there. “Let go.”

          “You didn’t even listen to what I want.”

          “Ugh, fine. I’ll at least hear you out.”

          “There will be a three-part payment.” He smirked a bit at her glare, he put up 1 finger, intending to count each reason on his fingers. “1. We stay business partners, in the sense, you keep me at the top. 2. You are now on my payroll, you work under me. Remember this is about your life on the line. 3. You will go out on a date with me.”

          “Wait, what?!”

          “Or we can just stay dating now.” He gave her a small wink.

          “This is serious. I’m not some whore either. So fuck you, not literally. I know they are on your payroll. I’ll find them from there on my own.” She pushed away from him, trying to get up.

          “Oi, brat. I was serious. If you want, you can just agree to the first 2, for now.”

          “Fine. I’ll accept the first two.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I want to get out of this, I want to live through this.” Levi then spotted a cut on her neck, he’d never seen before.

          He poked it. “What happened here?”

          “Huh?” She reached up and touched it. “Oh, that was the first time someone tried to kill me. That was back when I was a lawyer, I quit later that year. Became an informant and a hacker.”

          “I didn’t know you were a hacker until today.”

          “Well, I’m only average. So I can’t hack like the FBI and get away with it. I can hack their email server, though. So that information please?”

          “Of course, business partner.” Levi let her off his lap then typed up the information into her computer. She got to work right away. Put on her headset.

          Levi brought her some tea.

               “You’re sure you don’t want to stay here?” Levi asked while she was gathering her things.

          “Yes. I want to be in my own place, with my dog and my resources. I’m waiting on that FBI agent to get back to me before I know what to do next.”

          “Meaning?”

          “Meaning, if they want to get the witnesses into custody now, I can send the information to every single email I can get my hands on and not worry about their safety. If they don’t want to do that, I’ve got to find a District Attorney who is currently working on taking him down. I know there has to be someone trying. But I don’t want to find that out for myself. An FBI agent would be able to do much more than me.”

          “Where are you going at least?”

          “Out of the country actually. I just need to go pick up my dog and head to the airport.”

          “Wait, you’re just leaving?”

          “Tell me, Levi. Where exactly, where else, I would be safer from the most dangerous man in the country? The man wants to slit my dog's throat and 10 children in front of me. Because he knows that the only way he could probably break me mentally before killing me. My life is in danger the longer I am in town. I’ve already almost died today. I don’t think I can afford to be here any longer, now that they know where I am.”

          “I saved you today. I can protect you, brat.”

          “I think you’re underestimating again.” She finished packing her messenger bag. Levi grabbed her arm.

          “Don’t go,” Levi demanded, but it was sort of pleading.

          “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. As long as your FBI agent is good at her job I’ll be okay.” She seemed more so trying to convince herself but she was still firm on her decision.”

          “Can you at least contact me once a week so I know you’re not dead?”

          “Maybe.” She gave him a small smirk before leaving his condo.

          “She’s going to be my fucking shitty demise,” Levi mumbled to himself.

          Levi tried calling ___, yet again. She had been off the radar for over 3 weeks and he hadn’t heard from her at all. The call went to voicemail yet again. The trials against Darius Zackly had started and his local DA was very intent on taking him down with all of the information ___ had sent almost the whole world. All the witnesses were in secret service and we’re testifying soon. 

                Darius and everyone in his main organization were locked up, behind bars, life in prison. So many murders, missing persons, and unknown drugs were solved now. ___ was being offered a reward, she just had to make it so she wasn't anonymous anymore. But she didn’t show.

          It had been nearly 5 months since she disappeared, Levi hadn’t heard from her at all.

               “Boss!” Eren ran into Levi’s office, panting.

          “Tch, what, boy?”

          “There’s someone here to see you.”

          “Who?”

          “You have to come to see.” Eren joked a bit.

          Levi groaned and clicked his tongue before standing up.

               “Look how cute he is.” Armin gushed over the dog holding a bag in its mouth. Who growled at everyone who came near him.

          “What’s this mutt doing here?” Levi scoffed.

          “He just showed up with this backpack in his mouth, it’s ___’s bag.” Levi’s widened slightly. The 110 pound Rottweiler walked over to Levi and sat in front of him, wagging his tail. The dog dropped the bag and Levi bent over and opened it, careful to not touch the saliva.

          “This is Boris, his plane got back before mine, I need someone to watch him. I’ll be back two days after you read this. Levi, take care of him for me. I told him to only trust you, gave him your scent. Everything he needs is in the bag. He is a very good fetch and guard dog. Sorry, ___.” Levi growled her name while crumpling the note.

          “What does she mean fetch dog?” Armin asked as he leaned down to pet the dog.

          “The idea is to train, through the use of some form of compulsion, a dog to pick up an object in his mouth, carry it firmly but gently and deliver it to the handler's hand. Like he did with the backpack.” Levi stated while pulling a chewing bone out of the bag, giving it to the dog. “So if I teach him what things are and where to find them, he can bring them to me.”

          “That’s cool!” Eren was excited.

          “But, he probably only listens to ___.”

          “She told Boris to listen to you, though.” Armin reminded him.

          “Let’s test it.” Levi looked at the dog, who was happily chewing on his hallowed bones. “Boris.” The dog's ears perked and looked at Levi. “I need a pen, go get me one.” The dog stuck his nose into the backpack and pulled out a zip lock bag with a pen and notepad. “Good.” Levi took the bag from Boris.

          “Boris!” Levi yelled at the dog, who was whining. “Shut up! I get you miss her too, but shut up brat!” Boris nudged his head against Levi’s leg. “Do you need out?” Boris started to run around, to say yes. Levi sighed and pushed away from his desk, taking Boris out.

          “It’s been almost 3 days, where is your owner?” Levi grumbled. He wouldn’t admit anyone, but he did miss having ___ around, he did like and miss her.

          Boris started pulling Levi all sudden. “Boris, heel!” Levi tugged back on the leash, making Boris only pull harder. Levi glanced up, to see ___ walking towards them. He just let go of the leash, letting Boris run to her, knocking her down.

          “Boris! You’re not a puppy!” ___ giggled while hugging her dog who was trying to drown her in licks and lay on top of her.

          “At least you’re alive,” Levi grumbled.

       ��  “Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t use my phone out of the country, forgot to tell you about that. Did you at least get my message last month, the one to your email?”

          “I don’t check my email.” Levi glared at her.

          “Well, that’s your fault.” She stood up, grabbing Boris' leash. “You want to go get a coffee, as sorry from me, business partner.” She gave him a sly smirk.

          “What do you want?” Levi was skeptical.

          “Nothing. I feel a bit bad is all, but if you don’t care we haven’t talked for months. Then I’ll just head home.”

          “Didn’t expect to hear that from you.”

          “What do you mean?”

          “Well, you were the one who turned down the last part of my conditions.”

          “You said you were serious about it. I mean, I don’t know if it’s a compliment or not. But you're the only man who's been able to piss me off and get under my skin a lot.”

          “Good.” Levi pulled her in for a sharp and quick kiss.

          “Goddammit, Ackerman, who do you think you are.” She glared at him, looking at her smudged lipstick on his lips.

          “You’re the fucking informant, you tell me.” He teased while grabbing the open sides of her jacket, pulling her closer to him.

          She stared into his eyes for a moment. Before giving him an actual smile. “You think you’re mine.”

          “That’s one way of putting it.” She pulled away from him.

          “Well, now you just have to work on making me yours.”

          “Oi, brat. Don’t you remember.” He grabbed her chin, pulling her close again. “You work under me now.” A shiver ran down her spine at his demanding and dominant tone.

          “We’ll have to see how long that lasts then.” She managed a feeble smirk, she was losing her nerve. He had gotten under her skin, yet again. Making her weak against him.

          “Considering you’ve already lost, I have a feeling it’ll be a while.”

Author’s Note: continued Even though I wrote this a long time ago, it’s still my personal favorite of my own works. Also, this is Modern AU, where Levi and a few others are mob bosses. Mafia, whatever you want to call it. Levi also runs a nightclub and is Eren’s adoptive father. Reader is an information dealer(sells information to people.) She’s used to being in power and is pretty headstrong.

[lana-shhhhthoughts]

Another.

TW CW: Rape, Violence against women, Murder, Language.

I wrote this personal essay the week after our comedy sister Eurydice Dixon was murdered. I wrote it to relieve my pent up grief and anger. Once written, I put it aside and didn’t look at it again. I never edited it or published it as I felt it was too triggering, and I also didn’t want to have to deal with the expected onslaught of overly defensive trolls. I have let only three people read it since, because they requested. But now another woman has been stalked in Melbourne, violently raped and left for dead, murdered in too similar a fashion to Eurydice’s horrifying ordeal - and also after a comedy gig - this time, an audience member. And I do stand by my words in this personal essay, so maybe it’s time for me to put it out publicly. God, if words can change something, please, let it be this scourge of violence. And to Aiia Maasarwe, her family and friends (especially her sister who will never be able to erase that FaceTime call from her mind), I am so sorry. I am so so sorry this happened. It shouldn’t have happened and I hope that one day we can stop these things from ever happening again. So here is the essay I wrote after Eurydice. It comes with a huge content warning. There is a shit ton of triggering stuff in here - violent language, assault, a massive amount of swearing and violent imagery. I am posting it because I feel it somehow needs to be posted, but please, do not go lightly into this read. Eurydice: She Must Have Been So Cold. She must have been so cold. She must have been so very, very cold.

. . .

When people talked about the vigil, their posts radiated a quiet warmth: the fire, the light of the candles, 15,000 people huddled together to light the way, warm thoughts of her, the heat that propelled a fresh resolve to never let this happen again.

But I was there. And it was fucking freezing.

The night was tipped to reach 3 degrees.

Perhaps in cities like Montreal, 3 degrees is a pleasant evening, but in Melbourne, we may as well have been standing in the tundra. I dressed for the occasion: thick down jacket, sensible boots, triple wrapped scarf, warm hat. One hand held a self-heating pouch and the other hand, a burning candle.

But after 2 hours, I was freezing. Despite all my clothes, despite the fact that I was standing up instead of laying on that cold mass of earth that she would have been laying on for hours, despite the radiant body heat of fifteen thousand people standing so close together, and despite the occasional holding of me by my comedy sisters. The 2 hours of silence only afforded me one thing – my own thoughts. And the thoughts that circled in my mind over and over and over again were, “she must have been so cold. She must have been so very fucking cold. Laying there on the ground in whatever state of dress he left her in. So cold.

And alone. So very fucking alone.

Her aloneness amplified by the darkness of the night.

When she needed us, her people, the most – when she needed anybody the most – she was alone and cold on the ground.

And scared. God. She must have been terrified.

Alone, cold, scared, and unable to move. Oh god. Oh god, Eurydice, oh my fucking god.

. . . . . . .

According to reports, Eurydice left the Highlander bar where she gigged at about 10.30pm. She was found 4.5km and 4.5 hours later. They tried to revive her. They couldn’t. I take that to mean that she was trying to hang on, angling to tough it out, struggling to persevere, for as long as she could. Cos she was a fighter, our Eurydice. When she went to war, her sword was a biting, clashing of wits, and when she connected, she cut deep and could slay with the best of them. What I knew of her, I liked enormously and immediately and I was drawn to her warmth and weirdness on stage. I should have made a bigger effort then to know her better in the time we had, but I too am a little socially withdrawn, building walls to protect myself. Plus, like most other comics, I am self-absorbed prepping my own material when I’m working. So, depending on my mood, it can take a while for me to truly let others in, even though you feel close to them. I guess I was waiting to get to know her better, to know her beyond the “Hi lovely, great spot tonight”, the “how’s the flyering going?” or the “how do you want me to introduce you” relationship that we had going on at that point. I knew a blossoming would eventually happen – it’s a tight community, people gig a lot together, and we get to know each other gradually – so I just waited for that more natural moment of closer friendship to grow when the time was right. What I thought I knew about having time ended up being wrong.

                                                           -------

He must have been cold. He must have been darn cold.  He must have looked at her and thought, “I bet she’s warm inside. I bet that vagina is warm. If I could get my cold dick inside that warm body, it will be nice and fucking warm. It’s 37 degrees inside that woman and I’m fucking cold. I’m going in and I’m gonna warm my ice-cold dick up inside that tropical beach holiday of a woman.” And he did. And he followed her for over 4 kilometres. God knows why he chose her, maybe it was because she looked so beautiful - happy and confidently glowing with the joy of a gig well done - but he did. He chose her. And while he warmed his dick up, she got colder and colder until the cold took over and she couldn’t live anymore. He stole her heat and he stole her away from us, the people who loved her, and who knew she was an important new voice with an important future in the world. He is a rapist and a murderer. And he’s also a thief.

I know that paragraph is awful. I have read it and reread it and it sickens me and I was the one who wrote it, and I want to cut it completely because it is so very triggering. But I can’t help but think it, and the only way to get it out of my brain is to get it onto a page. Because I am trying to make some kind of sense of all of this. And I can’t. I just can’t. The sense of absolute entitlement some men have to the inside of someone’s body is beyond my ability to comprehend. The sense of entitlement to the outside of someone else’s body is also beyond my comprehension, but to the inside – wow. Really. Just… Wow.

It’s INSIDE MY BODY!

INSIDE!

I have to sign legal documents before a SURGEON is allowed to go inside me and you think you can just GO INSIDE OF SOMEONE WILLY NILLY WITHOUT THEIR EXPLICIT PERMISSION??? Because YOU WANT TO GET YOUR DICK WARM???

NO! Go stick it in a microwave and stay out of my cunt. And this, this is where the anger, the rage, the utter fury of women begins to explode. THIS is where the tone shifts from grieving for our comedy sister to mobilising and becoming political. But to be fair, is this really political? It’s OUR LIVES AT STAKE. How is that political? It’s our own vaginas inside our own bodies that are routinely broken into and trashed.

How is that political?

How is rape political?

HOW?

How is rape even debatable? Which is the side that argues FOR rape? In terms of actual politics, yes of course you can put policies in place to help change the system. Help educate. Help eradicate entitlement from the top down. Politicians can actually help. But when women are literally crying because we can’t clean up the mess fast enough before someone else shoots their load into one of us again, we’re not trying to be political. We just want it to stop. That’s not politics. It’s a plea.

Because the genuine actual statistics is 1 in 5.

1 in 5 women have been raped.

ONE. IN. FIVE.

And they’re just the ones we know about. If you are a woman, you’re not UNlucky if you get raped. You’re LUCKY if you don’t.

So yes we are angry. We are furious.

But no, we’re not blaming all men. No we are NOT calling you all rapists. We are NOT. And we are NOT saying only women get raped. We are NOT.

Stop putting words into our mouths and watering down the message and HEAR THIS:

WE ARE SIMPLY ASKING MEN TO HELP US PUT OUT THE SPOT FIRES. WE ARE ASKING YOU TO HELP US CLEAN THE HOUSE. WE ARE ASKING YOU TO HELP US CARRY THE LOAD.

That’s all. We’re not telling you that you are all rapists and murderers. We KNOW you aren’t. A lot of us still choose you as our life partners because you are “good men” and we adore you.

It’s just that some other guy has come into our joint home, where we both live, and made a frightful mess. We’re now asking you to help us “clean the house”. We’ve so far been holding our tongues and cleaning the mess ourselves, because we’ve always been taught that it was women’s work to keep the house liveable and clean and locked up nice and safe. So we’ve finally said enough is enough, and we’d like some help please. Some of you had never seen the mess, didn’t know it existed or didn’t see the extent of it, and now that you see what needs to be done, or you are asking how you can help. That good. That’s great!

But some of you are saying “why should I clean that mess? I didn’t make it!” And you walk off happy in your expectation that because you aren’t a rapist (well done for being the bare minimum of expected human decency) it means you aren’t responsible for helping us change a culture that means some people feel entitled to break into our homes. “I didn’t do it, so why should I help?”

And I know that sentiment, because 25 years ago, I was exactly that teenager. I didn’t drop the eggs on the ground so why should I clean them up? Perhaps because my mum had done the work of noticing that we needed more eggs, gone to the shop, spent the money, brought them back, unloaded the groceries from the car, and was going to make dinner with them for us. So maybe, maybe, I could mitigate some of the work she needed to do which also BENEFITED ME by helping her clean up the eggs that she accidentally dropped. My mum was simply asking for help as she ran a household for 4 people and problem solved for us all. But I saw her as a nag. Each time she asked me to help, I labelled her as nag. Nag nag nag nag nag. What I never admitted was my own responsibility in it all - the only reason why she had to keep asking me over and over, was because I never bloody helped. I was an entitled little shit. I never cleaned up the eggs. I never even cleared the dishes. I didn’t care about mess so much because I never saw it. I didn’t see it, because my poor mother just got tired of asking and ended up doing it herself. All the time. Because she was tired of being labelled a nag.

What I never realised, was there IS NO SUCH THING AS A NAG. The nag is seen as a negative shitty personality trait, but nagging is not a personality trait, it’s a response. It’s a human response to people who wilfully ignore requests for help when it’s needed, because they feel entitled and are ultimately selfish, because they don’t see the bigger picture of what needs to be done for a healthy, safe home where everyone pulls their weight. When you refuse to help someone who asks for it, you give the asker only 2 options:

1.    to continue to ask you to help again and again 2.    to give up asking and just do it themselves

And that’s awful for both men and women. We are tired of carrying the load of some men’s entitlement over our bodies on our own. But to be honest, we don’t want to nag you. It’s boring for you and it’s boring for us. We are happy if you can finally see that there is a mess and start to help us clean it. We’re fine if you need to ask what to do, but when you stomp your feet and refuse to help because you “weren’t responsible”, you remind me of my teenage self, and I wonder why my mum didn’t just throw me out of the house to live on my own for a bit. You live in the house that is our society. We all live in it. It’s time to break down those gender roles of who is responsible for certain things and start all pitching in.

We KNOW there will always be the unpredictable psychopath here and there and we’ll never fix all the random violent acts, but we CAN try to limit the damage to the 5% of violent acts caused by those people. How amazing would that be?

Thing is beyond the 5% described above, there are a far greater number of men who just feel entitled. And if you don’t think they exist, let me present to you the very public example of Brock Turner. Turner is not psychologically damaged, he has simply lived a life of such great entitlement that he literally did not understand why he COULDN’T just take what he wanted. And then his entitlement got him a FURTHER reduced sentence of just 3 months, even after he had been found guilty, with witnesses there to see the crime. He must be feeling pretty darn smug.

But Turner is just the tip of the entitlement iceberg. There are plenty of men exactly like him. There are more men like Brock Turner who just take what they want because they feel they are owed it than the odd unbalanced person who suddenly decides to commit a violent random act. Quite frankly, the rise of the INCEL community should worry EVERYONE. Involuntary Celibate? Bullshit. No one owes you sex.

Now I am very aware of my hair trigger for sexism, I call out systemic sexist behaviour all the time and have lost friends due to it. Many of my women-folk mates have wisely told me to “pick my battles” because there are bigger things at play. And ostensibly I agree – you SHOULD pick battles. However, I see it as putting out spot fires before they turn into a raging front. And that’s where I see the discussion happening now – some men are asking how they can help put out the spot fires that grow into a bushfire.

Some men are asking how they can help clean our mutual house.

And it is THESE men who I want to live with. It is THESE men who I think will help change the world. It is THESE men who will start to call out disrespect for women when they hear it. It is THESE men who will help me maintain my home without me turning into a nag.

And it is THESE men who tend to get actual consent for sex from the women who love them – I initiate sex with one of these men all the time.

I’m not the teenager I once was. I’m a grown ass woman now and I refuse to accept “but I didn’t do it” as an excuse for not helping. Because I can see the bigger societal picture at the exact same time that I see the smaller picture – the picture that requires empathy – the one where I can cry for my comedy sister who lay there petrified, alone and freezing on that cold Melbourne winter night because some fuck stole her warmth for his dick.

The audacity to think you have the right to be inside of anyone you want. The sheer undeserved, unearned and unwelcome entitlement of that. To think your own sexual desire trumps the absolute right for someone to not have you burn her home to the ground, should be quite frankly unthinkable.

And if you’ve managed to get this far into this piece and yet still can’t empathise with how women walk through the world or empathise with our request for help to change the system, or you mock our strong reaction (“stop being political”) to the violent murder of our friend Eurydice Dixon, if you still can’t achieve empathy through your own imagination, go and lie down in a park for a bit and think it over.  

Lie there for at least 4 hours.

In the dead of a Melbourne winter.

On the cold ground.

Naked.

Do it alone.

At night.

And see if anyone gives a fuck.

[sanerontheinside]

Stained glass above radicals, for the title prompt

@obaewankenope, @kyberpunk, @meabhair, @lilyrose225writes, @maawi, @eclipsemidnight So remember when I said I was working on title prompts, and one got away from me? That was this one. Honestly, this title is so beautiful, I just – !!! So the first piece, the one that I’ve linked, it hit the Stained Glass part of the title, but not the Radicals, so now - here, have the Radicals.(honestly I added like… 4 paragraphs in maybe 10 minutes? just now? and all the rest had been written before??? I’d just realised I didn’t have enough of crèchemaster Anakin and for some odd reason it took me A MONTH??! to add that in, sorry!, brain funnies)More from the Tahl Lives AU (aka the Blind!Obi-Wan AU also):

One day, not long into Qui-Gon’s newest nightmare of running the Alderaanian Temple, Tahl arrives in a whirlwind of activity and roughly jabs a finger into Qui-Gon’s sternum. 

“You,” she declares, “need an Archivist. Your record-keeping is horrid.” 

Qui-Gon raises his hands and backs away, shamelessly placing his Padawan between them. Obi-Wan takes this in good humour, but he also takes every opportunity to tease his Master afterwards. Qui-Gon does not mind. His Padawan can tease as much as he likes, but he’ll always protect his poor old Master. 

Tahl’s appearance does make things much easier. And it’s not really Qui-Gon’s record-keeping that’s appalling, as it turns out. It’s that the systems in place in this Temple are outdated. Tahl tucks Obi-Wan under her arm and vanishes for three days straight, living on nothing but tea and biscuits – a programmer’s lifestyle that Qui-Gon, frankly, does not approve of. 

“You’re very attached to your Padawan, Qui,” Tahl teases him. 

“Don’t you start,” he grumbles, curling around the same sleeping Padawan protectively on her couch. 

But by then things are already running more smoothly. At least now when they send out messages, there’s a chance someone will hear them. 

They start to take missions again. Once, Qui-Gon had taken missions for Finis, sometimes by personal request. These days, he occasionally does so by request of Bail Antilles. 

Some of the missions do, in fact, go to pieces. 

Obi-Wan does not. Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, his pride, is Knighted at the age of nineteen. He would have been ready a year ago, it just takes them that long to get to Coruscant because – ‘predictably,’ Obi-Wan says, ‘Qui-Gon found a way to get into trouble.’ 

‘Such cheek,’ Qui-Gon sniffs, while hiding a chuckle and tugging at his Padawan’s braid. He’ll cut that soon, he’ll take every chance to tug it affectionately now. (He gets in another soft tug at the ceremony.)

Years later, there’s talk of uneasy rumblings in the Senate, a gradual reshuffling. Two Jedi just barely save the Queen of Naboo from an assassination – or worse, internment in one of the camps – and bring her to Coruscant. They bring a child with them to Coruscant, a boy who burns bright as the stars. 

The boy will not be trained, the Council says. Quinlan, sighing and shaking his head, paces down to the balcony to watch the Coruscant sunset while he sulks. Aayla says nothing, wanders off to find Master Tholme for a spar, and, maybe, advice on how to work around the Council. He’s only been doing it for years. 

Tahl, who happens to be on Coruscant to set Micah’s brain back in order for getting himself injured on a mission, takes the opportunity to report on the progress of Alderaan’s Temple to the Council in person. She finds Quin on her way out of the chambers. Anger almost visibly colours the air around him, so Tahl stops to ask what’s wrong. 

I have to send a slave-child back to Tatooine, apparently, Quin tells her, cynicism cutting sharply into his tone. 

Banthashit, Tahl snaps, to his intense surprise, and offers to give the boy another option. 

When Tahl returns to Alderaan with Quin and Aayla in tow and a boy who burns like a star going nova, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchange incredulous glances – or, well, Qui-Gon glances. Obi-Wan’s jaw fell open the moment he sensed this flare in the Force, and he hasn’t been looking anywhere so much as he’s been looking everywhere else. In the last eight years he’s been so acutely sensitised to the merest brush-strokes of Force signatures, traces of hands left hours or years ago – Anakin is almost blinding to him, he burns. 

It takes some time to get used to. Obi-Wan is unsurprisingly skittish at first, but when Anakin finally asks why Obi-Wan has been avoiding him, a hurt note in his voice, Obi-Wan sighs and sinks to his knees and does his best to explain. Qui-Gon watches, and thinks he’ll finally see a Grandpadawan trained. 

Obi-Wan, however, is the same cunning imp as he always was. Qui-Gon isn’t quite sure how, but somehow they both end up Anakin’s Masters. With so few Jedi at the Temple, and effectively only two Padawans (three, before Bant’s Knighting) the rules and the Code sometimes seem a bit – arbitrary. Besides, having two Masters was never, strictly speaking, against any rules. 

But there is a growing unease in the galaxy. Sometimes, when Bail comes to the Temple with a request, it’s not one that guarantees safety during the mission. But Alderaan has always organised relief efforts for planets in need of them, and Naboo is currently very much in need. 

Naboo’s Queen had taken one look at the Senate, and regally taken her leave. This haughty dismissiveness held in the face of the Senate’s haughty bickering, where they passed over her claims and concerns and selfishly dredged up their own – completely misplaced – insult. Queen Amidala returned to her planet, made peace with the Gungans, and led her attack. She didn’t regain control, and for a long dirty year she’s been fighting a war from the brush, taking camps when possible, saving resources. 

Against his far better judgement, Qui-Gon agrees to help Bail Antilles, and accompanies Bail to Naboo with his Knight partner and their Padawan. They are there to protect the cargo, to distribute supplies to those in need, but Amidala asks them for help. 

Anakin seems ready to promise her anything, but his Masters wisely forestall him. The Jedi are peacekeepers, Qui-Gon tells her. But, Obi-Wan argues, they keep peace among people – not droids programmed to kill. Qui-Gon turns his sighted eyes heavenward, draws on his hard-won serenity, and does not Force-swat his former Padawan. 

They help the Queen retake her city. Anakin tangles with a starfighter while trying to figure out how it works, and Artoo takes him on a wild ride – during which he takes out the Trade Federation’s blockade. (His Masters are not entirely pleased.) 

The Alderaanian Temple seems less empty after that, somehow. Some of the refugees, the survivors of the Naboo camps, chose to leave with the Alderaanian ships, and the Jedi welcomed them in the Temple. Suddenly they have younglings in the crèche, their Healer’s Halls are near full to capacity, and there’s even Temple staff. Many of them are not Force Sensitive, and yet they bring with them a sense of warmth and family that no one on Alderaan had ever realised they’d been missing. 

Of course, with that warmth comes the demand of supplying, outfitting, and supporting so many new people. Qui-Gon’s migraines have returned full-force. “We’re not equipped for this,” he grumbles, complaining to Tahl. Tahl is busy laughing at the younglings, who are crawling over Obi-Wan and Anakin like they’re the best playthings they’ve seen in months. 

But then Tahl turns around and comms the Council, simply drops the problem in their lap. Just to inform you, the Temple on Alderaan has taken twenty Force-Sensitive children from Naboo into the crèche, and one hundred refugees – what’s that? You’re breaking up – yes – connection’s a bit rough, I’m afraid. 

The Coruscant Temple reroutes a few Healers and Knights, and even a few of the Masters. They also eventually send a swearing Mace Windu, but by then the Temple at least looks presentable, if covered in green paint in the oddest places. 

Mace spends the next month meditating in the gardens. With Skywalker laughing at him as children use him for climbing practice. Not the Skywalker can laugh, when he’s rather in the same situation, toddlers clinging to his tunic sleeves and hugging his knees wherever he goes. He’s quite tall already, and the taller he gets, the happier the crèchelings are – the more of them fit on their favourite Padawan. But, as the saying goes, misery loves company, and Skywalker is only too happy to have the Head of the Order share in his lot in life. 

Mace is quite content, even so. Now that Qui-Gon has the migraines, his seem to have mysteriously left him, fluttered off into the ether, while he’s on this well-deserved vacation from being pompous Head of the Order with a stick up his –

Master Windu’s return to Coruscant is closely followed by an influx of still more Knights and Masters, most of whom had been running difficult missions almost without reprieve for the last few years. 

“We’re, apparently, being considered a resort,” Obi-Wan remarks at that. 

Qui-Gon snorts. “Not if they all help.” 

The Coruscant Temple has rotations for teaching classes and taking missions. The Alderaanian Temple requires everyone, mission roster or no, to take part in Temple life. He puts their guests to work. Mace made a wonderful crèchemaster, even left with a new Padawan of his own. The more Knights and Masters take children with them when they leave, the greater the number of victories Qui-Gon will tally for himself. 

(The less mouths to feed on overstretched funds. Generous as Bail Antilles and Padmé Amidala have been, the reality of their situation is still quite harsh. Jedi aren’t ascetic entirely by choice.)

If, the first time Qui-Gon had set foot in this Temple, it had been quiet and content, now it is bursting, teeming with life. He insists that he cannot say which version he favours, the peace and quiet or this bustling wildness. But Obi-Wan, pressed against his former Master’s side like he’d never left it, knows this to be the slight unruly spark of lingering annoyance at the noise. His Master thrives on the bustle around him, on the close-knit, familial affection, like a plant reaching out for the sun. 

When the war comes, when the Confederacy forms, when the Jedi are called upon to fight by the Senate, it’s easier for Alderaan to refuse that it would be for Coruscant. Largely because some overzealous reporter asked Alderaanian Jedi first, and Qui-Gon answered as any logical person would. 

The Coruscant Temple lives by the whims of the Senate, and not by logic. 

That, unfortunately, throws hurtful words into the air – ‘Mavericks’, ‘Schism’, ‘Radicals’. Master Plo Koon, by virtue of being on Alderaan while the rest of the Council was not, becomes one of the ‘Radical Jedi Sect hiding out in the Alderaanian mountains’. 

Alderaan is considered a precedent for Coruscant’s refusal, and Jedi on Coruscant are suddenly openly despised. Feared, but despised nonetheless. 

Qui-Gon eyes the headlines with patient bemusement at first, expecting them to stop. To his consternation, they do not stop. 

“This may be for the best,” Mace tells them later. 

“Best?” Qui-Gon’s jaw drops. “No,” he says, “don’t you dare – don’t you even think of making me Head of my own Order, Mace! Mace, do not –” 

Mace chuckles, but it’s thin humour in times like these. There are bruises under his eyes that the holostream fails to hide. Within months, more Knights, more Masters, more children arrive. If they didn’t have help, they’d be overwhelmed and overrun. This is not a welcome thought. 

Much like Alderaan, Naboo has declared its neutrality. Under pressure from Padmé, Mina Bonteri of Onderon does the same, and then Rodia and Corellia follow suit. It’s a trend that picks up momentum quickly, and soon, unable to hold together a Temple bursting with life, Qui-Gon begins to encourage them to split up and choose other planets to move to. Understandably, his suggestion is met with uproar at first. For all that they cannot handle the Temple’s current volume, splitting up is dangerous. What if their planets choose to pick sides, ended up against each other? 

Qui-Gon refuses to think of those possibilities. He refused the very idea of Jedi having any part in the war, because the Jedi had settled disputes on Republic worlds for years, and that includes the Confederate Systems. Neutrality was the only logical response. 

Qui-Gon pointedly tells the Knights and Masters not to make enemies of each other, throwing them a quelling look much like one he might shoot at the crèche children. They quiet instantly, make arrangements and choose their new homes. 

The headlines continue to call it a ‘Schism’, they still call the Alderaanian Temple a Temple of ‘Radicals’. The ‘Rebel Jedi’ are stationed there, and yet, they are the furthest thing from active warriors. It seems to escape everyone’s notice that Alderaan is perhaps the safest Temple, that it has the greatest number of children in its crèche. Anakin isn’t very happy about it – he insists that he can only just barely keep up with the demands of being a crèchemaster! And only just Knighted, too! 

But secretly, Qui-Gon couldn’t be happier that the media downplays this fact. Over the last few years, he’s taken pains to follow the windings of the Temple deeper into the Mountains, discovered yet more Archives and rooms, training salles. With funds enough to expand the livable space in the Temple, he’s equally grateful that they have a place to retreat, if the worst should happen. The children, he thinks, will be safe. 

The clones, though – the army that the Jedi supposedly commissioned the Kaminoans for – are decidedly not inactive. They act in the defence of their chosen Temples, at least, and not in the defence of the Republic. 

The Coruscant Temple is nearly empty, all but for a skeleton crew. 

The Force is with them, for better or for worse. The Jedi on Naboo and Onderon have already been forced to rise in defense of their homes, yet Alderaan, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Bail and Breha, remains quiet. 

Qui-Gon can feel that quiet itching under Obi-Wan’s skin, and he can’t help but want to do the same. This whole war feels drawn-out, artificial, like a lure. But he holds his former Padawan close to him as they sit outside on the steps at night, staring up at the stars. 

“Where do you think this path will lead?” Obi-Wan asks him. 

Qui-Gon sighs and presses his lips to the Knight’s temple. “I cannot say,” he answers truthfully. He sends a prayer to the Force, to the night sky, to whatever gods might be listening, that their path will be a safe one, in the end.