#i tried to keep this concise for the ask event but I WANNA WRITE MORE ON IT

[takami-takami]

Oh you know exactly what I want😈

Keigo + Primal Play

Go wild with it! ❤️

☕️anon

When it comes to primal instincts, Keigo Takami is king.

For all the years of sexual repression he endured as he focused on work, of shoving down his desires like neatly folded clothes in an overpacked suitcase, he didn't anticipate a curveball such as yourself to go ahead and unlatch the lock.

It starts the moment he lays eyes on you. Pretty little thing, he thinks, so excited to shake his firm hand and introduce yourself to the number two.

His gaze drops to the flesh of your neck.

You're unmarked.

He can keep it locked a little longer, over the months and years you get to know each other, as you become intertwined in your perfect little romance of an origin story.

You let your guard down around him, he thinks one afternoon, with your feet propped lazily on his couch. He tries not to watch out of the corner of his dilated eyes, the way your legs absentmindedly kick back and forth. The vulnerable to prey pipeline in his mind isn't one he prefers to give any credence to; but frankly, it is quite loud. Pressure builds and builds, and a dog held back by its kennel will grow restless in the absence of an outlet for such instincts.

It drives him up the wall, the way you'd let him do anything to you. Thoughts plague his mind on repeat as he stares up at his ceiling in the middle of the night, twisting a single feather between his thumb and index finger. Do you even know what you're asking for? Oh, he thinks you do. When he presses you down against the bed with a kiss, your legs fall open, entirely subconsciously. When he grips you with his nails tight enough to leave marks, you choke out a moan.

It takes every ounce of his cognitive effort to tap into the rational part of his mind, the part that wants to give it to you slow and sweet.

Saccharine as you are, sweet is what you deserve. But Keigo can see it in your eyes, in the wide-eyed way you blink up at him when he's on top of you, the way you roll your head to expose your jugular: sweet isn't what you want.

The last of his resolve cracks when you lean in and whisper, "you can do whatever you want to me. I want you to."

From that moment on, he starts to allow himself those indulgences. If he wants to make hickies bloom in obscene places, he'll do it. With his eyes so lidded he can barely see, he obliges your request and clicks a collar around your neck. He twists and stares in the mirror at the crimson claw marks on his back after each nightly shower, feathers trembling with a giddy thrill.

Satisfied, finally.

This newfound game of cat and mouse keeps him perfectly stimulated, feeds his need for enrichment and satiates his instincts exactly as he needs it. When you ask him what he'd think about playing a less than innocent game of hide and seek, he swears he's died and gone to heaven.

You're just perfect.

His favorite little chewtoy.

[snowlily95]

Aerith in light of healthcare provider

So, I've wanted to write an analysis about Aerith in light of her medical viewpoint for quite a long time but only recently got the chance to complete it. It is well known in the game that Aerith is the healer of the story. She possesses a great MP with a limit break to heal and buff people which greatly affects your gameplay. Of course, you can equip others with Healing and Prayer materias to render them useful for healing as well. But story-wise, no one can take away Aerith's status as the healer. We know in canon that Aerith provided herbs to the Sector 5 slums doctor to create medicine. And if you finished the Corneo Stash side quest in Chapter 14, you can return to the church and see a couple of elderly sitting on the pew praying. And when you come closer to them you'll hear them talking about how they didn't see Aerith around and they're sure she's alright and probably be around healing people. You know, since the Sector 7 plate just fell. (Even though Aerith is not alright actually coz she was kidnapped by Shinra by this time) Point is, we are fed by the NPCs on how much Aerith had helped around as a healer. She had been doing this for years.

While being in denial about who she actually is, being a healer had always been implanted in her. She is used to it. When you're used to being a healer, there's a certain level when you have a different reaction compared to others. The way you think is different. Apart from that, she's also a Cetra. And we knew for a fact Cetra had a certain affinity towards souls who are returning to the Planet. Meaning, as much as she is used to healing others, she's also used to sensing death.

My whole point is that being a Cardiac Anaesthesiologist and Intensivist as I am, I can totally relate my position with Aerith, as we both have constantly helped people and encounter death on daily basis. While I'm pretty confident that the majority of these might be coincidences (because I'm pretty sure there are no doctors in the SE team), I thought the coincidences are pretty cool to ponder upon and I'm amazed at how the subtle differences between Aerith's reaction to events from other characters.

I'm gonna ignore the meta part of Aerith, mainly because I'm not discussing how much Aerith knew, and if there was anything in jeopardy of what she knew whatsoever. So we're gonna focus on the fact that she is used to healing and feeling people's death. People who are used to death on daily basis had a certain unique view on life and death. And that affects how we act upon facing them too. While this is evident throughout Remake, I'm gonna focus on the plate drop event to be more concise. I will also use Tifa as a comparison to make it easier to see the difference between the reaction of the two. Let’s start!

1) Aerith is quick in emergency situations.

When you are used to people dying, you developed a certain immunity and you are able to have a sound mind and composure at the sudden change of event. As healthcare providers, we face stable situations turning into critical real fast. And we have a switch in our minds that turns us from standby mode to rescue mode. This is exactly what happened to Aerith when Don Corneo revealed Shinra's plan to blow up Sector 7's support pillar. Tifa is part of Sector 7. It is her home. Which is why her reaction showed how she was super devastated, she slowly stood up and muttered "They wouldn't..." because she couldn't believe it. Aerith? She had that switch in her mind, and she immediately turned and say "Come on, guys! We gotta go!". She switched into that critical mode in a second. It helps that she's also not personally connected to Sector 7, and thus her judgment was not as impaired. Of course, they both switched into the critical mode in the sewer, but it was at the moment of revelation that made it different. Just like how healthcare providers switched at the moment of revelation that their patients are at the brink of death—you immediately jumped into rescue mode.

2) She plans for the worst.

Remember after they defeated Abzu and Tifa started to question Corneo's information? She didn't want to believe it, because it didn't make sense to destroy your years of efforts building the plate just to get back to a small group like AVALANCHE. Think about the money they put in to build it, they're gonna have to put them all again. In fact, along their way out of the sewer, Tifa voiced out multiple times how this had been bothering her. But I'm intrigued with Aerith's reply "If he's telling the truth, then we should go. And if it turns out he was lying, then so what?". This here is exactly what doctors do. We plan and prepare for the worst. And if the worst didn't happen, then so what? If you ever had life-saving surgery, your doctors would tell you "You need this surgery coz you might die. But if you do the surgery, there's a high chance you'll survive, but there's a small chance you'll die too". And we prepare for that small chance that our patients die. No, we don't let our preparations lacking because we hope they'll survive. We prepare for the worst outcome possible and get all the equipment ready in case they'll die. If they didn't, then so what? It doesn't mean our preparations were futile efforts. It only means we were prepared. And that line of Aerith seriously hits home to me.

3) She hopes for the best.

Before they crossed the water sewer, Tifa once again voiced out how she couldn't stop thinking about what Corneo said, and she was still hoping that he was lying. And then Aerith said, "The future isn't set in stone". (Again, I'm gonna ignore the meta part of Aerith) And then she proceeded to set up that small date with Tifa. Believe it or not, this is actually what we do during bad calls. We'd talk about what we would do after all this ends; we'd go out dining, or playing games/darts, or go drinking, or whatever it is that makes us happy. Just to keep our minds calm and to allow us to hope for the future, even if it's just a few hours away. It gives us hope and courage to go on. We plan for the worst, but we hope for the best. The more critical the situation is, the more you need to be level-headed. And needless to say, after this point onwards, Tifa is much more calmed down from her struggle to keep herself focus.

4) She follows orders.

This might sound weird to some, but the ability to cast away your worry and focus on what you can do, instead of what you should do, is important in emergency situations. You need to know what you don't know. You don't get in the way of your comrades. If you're not good at intubating, you don't insist to intubate in emergency situations just because you wanna help. Seriously, you'll just make things worse. When Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith were attacked before climbing up and out of the sewer, Cloud asked both Tifa and Aerith to keep going. Aerith immediately answers "Okay" and left—without a single but. This is significant because it shows that Aerith knew she'd be better off leaving. She doesn't need to offer help, coz her help was not needed. This is not the place where she could help. The ability to recognize this is very important for healthcare professionals. Tifa was a bit more reluctant to leave, but that's probably because she is a martial artist in-game. Also, the fact that Aerith could still joke "We're not delicious" is just so real lol! Yup, we joke sometimes when we're facing deaths—doesn't mean we lose focus in saving the dying person in front of us, don't worry. And then it happens again when they reached Sector 7 when Cloud asked them to stay with Wedge as he goes up, Aerith immediately answered "sure"—because she can "patch" Wedge up, it's where her abilities lie. This is even more accentuated when an injured Wedge argued that he can still fight when he clearly can't—making this point even more obvious. Aerith is someone with a healthcare mind, Wedge was not.

5) She supports her comrades emotionally even when she’s worried too.

When they reached the surface, they spotted a Shinra helicopter. Cloud assured them they're only on patrol. Aerith turned to Tifa and said, "Don't worry, we'll make it in time". This moment is also very iconic to me. As I mentioned, I'm an anaesthesiologist. We are the support doctors to surgeons and physicians. Those moments when we're operating on AAA surgeries and the patient is losing liters of blood and literally dying, we're pumping bloods in with our hands and get those Level 1 machines operating, and the surgeons would be panicking because it keeps bleeding? Yep, I did say it before. "We'll make it. Just concentrate on the surgery and don't worry about the bleeding", even though I'm sweating and dying here trying to keep the patient alive. But I pretended to be calm in front of my team and cheered them on. Because the whole team needs to keep calm. If one of the team loses hope, then bid your chance farewell. As an anaesthesiologist, we're almost like the anchor in the room. People look at us to know if everything's alright. I need to tell them it's alright, so they need not worry. Aerith knew Tifa is worried. And she tried to keep Tifa calm with reassurance. Even if she probably freaked out herself.

6) She doesn’t discriminate.

After they defeated the ghost at the haunted maintenance facility, Cloud tried to kill it, and Aerith didn't let him. When Cloud said that thing was dangerous, Aerith said she knows and added "but even so..." she didn't feel right about killing it. (Let's ignore the fact that the Ghoul was a lonely creature for now) It then goes to drop the train wreck which almost killed them had it not been for Cloud. Now this would have been avoided had Aerith let Cloud killed it—maybe. But here's the thing. When you're hyper-aware that people are dying left and right, you value life more. No one deserves to die, even the worst criminal in the world. You're a law-abiding citizen? You're a criminal? It doesn't make a difference to us. I know this is something super hard to comprehend. But technically only when the law subjects the criminal to the death sentence that a person should be left to die. I've been a doctor for eleven years, I was a prison doctor for two. I had the first-hand experience of dealing with criminals. It's not my job to determine whether they deserve to die or not. It's not my call whether they will turn a new leaf had they lived. I know this is something others find difficult to relate to and agree with—happens to my non-medical family and friends. The verdict to us is simple. It's a life. It's worth saving. Period. (Technically the ghosts are dead though but my point still stands)

7) She tries to her best abilities and lets go of what is out of her control.

Tifa's emotions are tampered with again when they confirmed Shinra was going to drop the plate when they overheard the Turks conversation. Her voice shook, we can literally hear it. Aerith's response was "all we can do now is keep moving". And she's right. When they reached Sector 7 and the Whispers were preventing them, she said "we have to get past whatever it takes". And later on, Tifa left to help Cloud and Barret, and Aerith agreed to get to Seventh Heaven to ensure Marlene's safety. Wedge had a short mental breakdown when he realized he was no good to anyone up or down the crime scene. And Aerith told him "We can still save a lot of lives", "That's no excuse to give up", "I need to know I did everything I could". Her encouragement helped Wedge save more people. Some argued, did she not care about the lives that already died? Now here's my point; no, we don't. Sorry if this sounds harsh, but really. What can we do for people who are already dead? Nothing. What can we do for people who are still alive? Everything. And this is the core of being a healthcare provider—we prioritize. Yes, we're also humans. We can get emotional when our own friends and relatives die. (Aerith might not be as calm had it happened at Sector 5) But when we put the healthcare provider cap on, we mean business. That is why when disasters happened, and we triage people with a black tag? That's when we know we couldn't do anything for them. We don't mourn at the black tags. We move on to the other tags instead. So that we know we already did everything in our power to help. And yes, it doesn't matter even if we lost more lives than we saved. It's worth it, even if we only saved one person out of thousands of deaths. Just like how Aerith saved Betty in Sector 7. That one life is worth it.

[kafka-ish]

coward | s.u.

y/n, bold and beautiful, is now second guessing herself when she finds herself skinny dipping with stan uris 

word count: 2.5k

warnings/included: fluff, steamy-ish, exhibitionism, fem!reader

request: (from anon) “could i have a request where the reader is v v v flirty with stan and one day he says something really dirty even richie's shocked. it’s fine if not.” 

a/n: i accidentally changed it bc i misread ur request im so so sorry !!! also if u noticed i haven’t written in awhile it’s bc my classes started up again so fics may take more time to write/post -- hope u understand <3

-

What came out of y/n’s mouth next truly shocked Stanley.

“Wanna go skinny dipping?” It wasn’t far off from whatever usually spewed from her mouth that she and the rest of the Losers had a hard time controlling.

His mind flashed to all the times y/n’s hand grazed his: the light touches, the silent stares, the whispers that tickled his ears and kissed his brain.

“Next year for Halloween, you should be Stan without a shirt.”  

The hearts she drew on his notebook when he wasn’t looking, the hand she held in hers, the what-are-we’s before giggling in his wonderstruck face that she was joking; it was all a sign of want that he’d been too dense to see before.

“You’re great, you know. Great at being an asshole.”

Sweet, mischievous y/n; always blunt, always careless of what others thought of her. It never occurred to Stan of what she thought of him.

Richie was the first to speak up, Stan still having to catch his breath from the promiscuous words that left her mouth seconds ago. “Sure, toots, I’d love to see what’s under that suit of yours. God, you don’t know how much I hate that thing.” He laughed and Stan wanted to beat the shit-eating grin off his shit-eating friend. His jaw, pronounced and square, tightened and Richie saw. “On second thought, I think someone else would enjoy the view way more.”

Another laugh came from the group, but it wasn’t from Richie. It was y/n’s. The soft giggle leaving her luscious lips did nothing to calm Stan.

“Are you jealous, Stanley?” She asked. A smirk sat on her lips. She only called him by his full name when she teased him.

He definitely felt like he was being thrown a bone only to find out the pitcher never threw one right now.

“Of course not.” Stan gave her the side-eye, readjusting his position from the rock he sat on while doing so. “I can’t think of any situation where I’d be jealous of Richie.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie challenged and Stan squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

“I can think of one—multiple, actually.” Richie wore the same smirk as y/n—only his was less digestible. Maybe it was because y/n was less insufferable to be around, or because she didn’t take a crack at his religion every chance she had, or because her hair was soft and shiny on her head and something Stan wished he could run his hands through. Maybe it was because y/n was a girl, or because she was pretty and the way she batted her eyelashes made him see stars even in the sunlight.

“When?”

Richie leaned in and whispered something that was totally vulgar and jarring to Stan’s ears.

Stan flinched—unsurprised that his friend was ballsy enough to say such a thing, but because what if he had actually thought about doing such a thing?

“Gross, Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” Bill yelled from across the quarry, already knowing what his friend would say.

“Yeah. You’re disgusting,” Eddie said from next to him while he looked up at Bill.

“Ruh-lax. It’s not like it’s something I’m gonna do.” Richie opened a new can of Keystone Light next to his already half-drunken one. “I got freedom of thoughts though, right?” He winked and Ben rolled his eyes.

“If you already have a drink open you should finish it,” Stan instructed, ignoring the subject at hand.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” y/n sounded closer than she was before. Her arm brushed up against his and he thought she was about to hold his hand until her fingers grazed just past his to grab his can of beer. She took a sip. “Besides, it all ends up somewhere.”

She could be so careless with her actions. But this was the same girl who made sure paper and plastic went to recycling, the total opposite of Stan, a total enigma.

“I just think, if you want another one, you should finish the one you already have.” Stan explained himself clearly and concisely. It was something y/n always admired. She never got tired of hearing him talk—she could listen to him talk for hours on end.

“Whatever.” Her eyes rolled so far he’d thought they’d get stuck. “I’m going home. “Later, Losers.”

“Wuh-what about the sk-skinny dipping?” Bill asked and Ben elbowed him. He wasn’t yet comfortable in his body, though he had been on Derry High’s track team for a year and a half and lost a fair amount of weight (twenty-two pounds), he still wasn’t comfortable in his own skin (he didn’t think he’d ever be)—even around his best friends—friends he considered family.

“We can do it tomorrow.” y/n shrugged. “Sound good to you, Stanley?” Her eyes were only focused on him and Stan knew that. They glowered under the sun’s harsh rays and fixated on his figure.

“I don’t know.” Stan tried to sound as monotone as possible. “Maybe you should be asking Richie instead.”

At that, y/n smiled, leaving the rest of the group confused as she walked away.

“Duh-dude!” What wuh-was that?” Bill wondered aloud, astounded how y/n had him wrapped around her finger—or maybe it was the other way around.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Stan said, holding the same shock in his voice.

“Are you and y/n like—”

“No!” The sharpness of Stan’s tongue cut Ben off quickly with a harsh glare he’d later apologize for. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t want something with y/n. Another lie, that Stan would keep to himself, would be that he didn’t anticipate the events that were to come for tomorrow…

“Hey, stranger!” It was y/n from down below. She was already wading in the water—waiting for him, presumably.

“Hey, y/n/n.” He started for the long way down, not caring to cannon-ball ten feet down from the cliff of the quarry today. “Where’s Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben and—”

“—and Richie?” A beam shot across y/n’s face as soon as Stan met her eye line.

“And Richie,” Stan mumbled. That was the only thing he’d been worried about. Although he knew there was nothing about his trashmouth friend to worry about. But it was always best to stay skeptical.

“I told them not to come.” y/n said this with such nonchalance—such grace as she tilted her head into the water and drifted back, letting the water carry her away as if she were weightless.

“Why,” Stan asked, though it came out as more of a demand.

“Because.” y/n shrugged, but you couldn’t really shrug while you were trying to stay afloat. He noticed that her eyes were closed, and her bathing suit was still on. Maybe she was lying about skinny dipping and he had worked himself up last night over nothing. y/n was like that—making promises she never intended to fulfill. If it weren’t for y/n being, well, y/n, Stan might’ve been annoyed at her antics. But he wasn’t—far from it, even. He was infatuated with her being—clothed or not, enraptured with how sunshine she could be one hour and rain she could be the next.

Math and English were an easy feat—but trying to understand y/n was like trying to learn Mandarin blind and deaf.

Her curves spilled from the bikini bottoms that hugged her butt and the matching top she wore hugged her bust exceptionally. The bikini’s scandalous red color harmonized with y/n’s skin tone well and Stan couldn’t imagine her in anything else at the moment. He didn’t want to imagine her in anything else.

“Are you gonna get in?” Her presence startled him as she was quick to swim up to the rocks. “Or are you scared?” A sly smile splayed across her pink lips and Stan mirrored her.

“I’m scared?” He scoffed. “You were the one who said we were going skinny dipping.” He stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his pale, yet toned, chest. “Guess who’s not undressed.”

“You?” y/n guessed; the innocent tone surprising on her tongue. She had inadvertently licked her lips at the answer and Stan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth due to the action.

“No. You.”

“My bad.” A giggle escaped her bitten lips and y/n began to unclip the back of her bikini. “Is that better now?” The straps fell loose against her arms, but the top stayed covering her breasts.

Stan didn’t say anything.

“What if I…” y/n didn’t finish her sentence. Silently, she fully removed the straps from her arms and the contraption left her bodice.

“Christ,” Stan seethed out, but he wasn’t gentlemen enough to look away from the sight on display before him: y/n treading the shallow water that was crystal clear thanks to Mr. Sun that shone down on this part of town, giving Stan an eyeful.

“Don’t say his name in vain.” She had now slipped the bottoms off and Stan didn’t know what to do with himself. Get undressed, I guess.

His pants were the next to go as Stanley undid his brown leather belt that held his too-big khaki shorts together. His waistline had shrunk due to baseball season’s quick start. And although it was only early March, the heat had picked up fast in this small town they called home and Stan could feel himself already itching to feel the water on his sweat-stricken skin.

“What are you waiting for?” y/n called from below. She was growing impatient, but who could blame her?

Stan stood above her in only his underwear. If the rest of the student body was here, he would’ve been living out his nightmare—stripped to the bone with an audience to gawk at him. But only y/n was here to witness the grey Calvin Kleins that hugged his thighs and rather than a nightmare, this felt more like a daydream.

“Are you shy?” She teased. “C’mon, Stanny, there’s no need to be—”

“Shy my ass,” Stan interjected as he relieved himself of the last piece of clothing and jumped into the water all in a quick movement.

“Glad you could finally make it, slowpoke.” y/n splashed his face, disregarding his lack of clothes—both of their lack of clothes—but Stan couldn’t help but admire y/n’s skin that the water had already kissed and glowed under the flash of the sun.

He’d never seen her in such a state before. In fact, he’d never intended to. But this was worth it—even if it were the only time, he knew he’d have this memory burned into his skull forever the same way the sun would burn his skin the next day because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Since when does Stanley Uris forget to apply sunscreen?

“It’s rude to stare,” y/n deadpanned, but Stan couldn’t help it. How could he not take his eyes off her tan lines from up close and the divot of her collarbone? The way her hair slicked back from the water and the pout of her lips was all too tempting to not want to consume. Stan Uris would be an idiot to not stare. A polite idiot.

“You make it hard.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she knew she wasn’t sporting a sunburn. y/n never burned. “Oh. Well, in that case, stare as much as you want.”

“Gladly.”

y/n was quiet now—a rare event, but it gave Stan an opportunity he’d never thought he’d get or go for.

He swam closer, the stroke of his arms creating rifts in the water and y/n shivered at the feeling of the coldness that hit her chest each time he got closer.

It was strange seeing him up close—in such an intimate setting. As big of a crush y/n harbored on the boy, it’s not like she did anything about it. A few remarks there, a few remarks there. This was the furthest they’ve ever gotten. Maybe a little too far now that she was considering it more closely. Since when did first base turn into skinny dipping in the quarry?

Before her thoughts could leave her second-guessing anymore, y/n felt her lips on someone else’s. They were pressed together firmly and tightly. She held her breath as if she were underwater, but her heart prevailed, only picking up at a speed she’d only feel when she caught him looking at her or when he laughed at her jokes.

The kiss was powerful and all she needed. If this were the last time they’d ever see each other again, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have that kiss to cherish. Maybe she’d long for one in the future. Just one more. But this kiss left her knowing that this skinny-dipping idea wasn’t so bad after all.

His lips were soft and tickled as he pulled apart to catch a breath. y/n’s eyes opened to find Stan’s pupils were wide and lustblown. She stood still in the water, amazed that anyone could feel that way about her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Stan—”

“What?” Stan asked, eager and anxious for the words meant for him.

“This is embarrassing but.. I like you.” The words were bold and packed with courage—not far from the regular way y/n spoke, but this was different. It had a certain bite to it that Stan couldn’t quite taste.

“Are you embarrassed because you like me or are you embarrassed because you’re confessing to me without any clothes on?” Before Stan’s eyes could rake down to y/n’s body once more, a splash of water hit his face—cold and abrupt. His eyelids slammed at the impact and he flinched.

“You’re such a perv.” y/n scoffed as if she had forgotten her deepest secret had just spilled from her lips in front of the boy the secret was about. Secret. Don’t act like it wasn’t as obvious as a fat kid scarfing down their third brownie in the first place—

“You know if it’s any more embarrassing… I like you, too,” Stan said. He felt winded after saying it. His chest felt heavy and his toes dug into the sand in order to keep him from falling headfirst into the water. It was so easy for y/n. Brave, crass y/n who swore like a sailor yet had the face of a doll.

Stan’s train of thought was lost at the feeling of y/n’s body pressed against his. He’d forgotten they were both bare-assed and exposed for all of Derry to see because the warmth of y/n was all too much. His heart jumped out of his chest sixty miles a minute and the muscles under his arms were now stones. Stan didn’t recognize that her lips were on his until her tongue swiped his bottom one for access in which he granted.

Teeth clashed and tongues danced. It was a hot minute until y/n pulled away with a cheeky smile and lingering fingers on his collarbone that made Stan hold his breath.

“That was hot,” he heaved, finally cutting the silence between them. Of course, the birds still chirped and the water around them never stopped flowing. But the world just seemed to stop whenever Stan stepped foot into y/n’s intoxicating proximity.

“Hell yeah, it was.” One arm was still strewn around his neck while her free hand traced code on his shoulder.

Nothing else was said. Nothing had to be said. But Stan was sure of one thing; that y/n was no coward.

[artificialqueens]

These People in This Room (Don't Shine Like You) (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Lawrence has just been crowned the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, and Ellie is right beside her. Just like she’s always been.

a/n: omg HIIIIII! here’s my entry to the fic challenge (will it be my only one? who can say). in a shocking turn of events this is not a drabble asdfghjk but would we have expected anything concise from me? this fic was inspired by Shine and Starstruck, both by Years and Years. they are very diamond chaney songs so pls do give them a little listen for full effect! standard procedure, she/her pronouns bc they’re in drag, u know the drill. this has taken me entirely too long to write but pls enjoy some diamond chaney from the night of the crowning! (pls also collectively pretend they had an actual dancefloor to celebrate on and not just a hotel room bc i had already started writing at the point Ellie posted her BTS. fic is just one big serving of pretend anyway xo)

***

It’s somewhere around midnight, the sun has set on Thursday and Friday has crept in, and Lawrence is sitting in a booth with the dancefloor flashing bright colours in front of her, only just daring to believe that this is her actual life.

There is not a single moment that seems real. Even being one of the top four took her essentially since filming stopped to come to terms with. But hearing her name being read out, hearing the other girls cheer for her and being able to do nothing but stare at the screen in disbelief with her hands over her mouth and sob like a baby…that’s not sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. She’s still feeling the after-effects from the way the shock and euphoria had kicked seven shades of shit out of her pulse, the way the serotonin had crashed over her like a wave and the absolute unbridled lack of control she’d had over any of her emotions.

When the cameras had been cut off and they’d been given the all-clear from the producers that they could hug each other, Lawrence had only managed to stand up from the chair, still in floods of tears as Bimini bundled their arms around her, Tayce had jostled them all with the way she’d jumped up and down and yelled in delight, and Ellie had looped her arms around her neck and murmured into her shoulder, words Lawrence couldn’t hear but felt the love from regardless.

It had to be Ellie, really, that crowned her. It was a full-circle moment. She still remembers the night they met for the first time; Dundee in 2016, some time in the early hours of the morning (she’d probably called it ‘bastard o’clock’ or something similar), coming out of the bar and being stopped by a boy in half-drag similar ages with her who spoke rapidly and excitedly and told her that he’d messaged her about starting drag and she’d replied to him. The way realisation had dawned on her and the way she’d been her usual loud and boisterous self to cover up the fact she’d actually been quite bashful about the fact they were meeting for the first time.

There was no alternative, not least because of everything they’ve been through together; the years leading up to this moment and the rollercoaster it’s all been. She’s glad that they’re on a high because they’ve seen each other at their lows (been the cause of each others’ too, sometimes) and pulled through only slightly scathed, but always stronger. The producer had asked Lawrence who she’d wanted and when she, still speechless, had pointed in Ellie’s direction, seeing the tears start to stream down her face had only made Lawrence’s start all over again. They’d hugged- just the two of them this time- and the way Ellie had immediately felt like a safe place in the crazy chaos of reality reminded Lawrence so much of when they had filmed. The way even just hearing Ellie’s voice would stop her feeling homesick, the way she was a living comfort blanket.

She’d never tell that to Ellie, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

It’s been a couple of hours and Lawrence is expecting everything to suddenly sink in any minute now. Something will click like the last piece of a puzzle and she’ll finally accept that she’s won, that the whole thing isn’t a giant and premature April fools’ prank. She turns her phone over in her hand, wondering what all this nervous energy is doing to her body chemistry. She’s got messages from her family, her friends, Kiko, the girls she works with back home. Well…some of them. But apart from reading them and frantically replying, Lawrence hasn’t checked anything else; hasn’t opened Twitter or Instagram, where the notifications are piling up like pizza leaflets through a letterbox and are equally as unwanted. If she thinks about them she can feel her stomach twist, wrung out like a wet towel.

Forty thousand likes. The Team Bimini tweet had forty thousand likes. What did her own get? Eight thousand? Lawrence thinks about the sheer scale of forty thousand people, compares it to the population of towns in Scotland. Almost Airdrie. Just under Coatbridge. She imagines a whole town of people, angry and furious and disappointed, and all of them tweeting her to let her know exactly that. She remembers in high school when she thought the whole of Hermitage was against her. She wants to tell baby Lawrence that that was fucking small fry. A thousand kids? Try the sheer scale of Bimini’s fanbase. Her breath is shaky when she tries to breathe in, like her lungs have reduced in size. It reminds her of that time in school camp when they all had to jump from a pier for some unknown-fucking-reason, how freezing the water had been and how her chest felt tight as she gasped for air. Lawrence supposes it was character building in the sense that it prepared her exactly for how anxiety would make her feel later in life.

In for four. Hold for five. Out for six.

“There she is!”

An ever so slightly slurred and wobbly voice breaks Lawrence’s reverie, and when she looks up she sees Ellie approaching her, a little unsteady even in the flats she’s changed into with a glass of prosecco in each hand. It says a lot that even at the top of a helter-skelter of an anxiety spiral, Lawrence’s heart still gives a little swell when she sees her friend. Ellie has always been able to make her feel better. She feels an almost silly sense of relief that she’s here.

Lawrence takes one last little breath in before plastering a small smile to her face. “Awrite? Where’s Mumma Diamond?”

“In her room conked out. Just got back from putting her to bed, she couldn’t hack it. Letting down the family name, that one,” Ellie huffs, sliding into the booth and squashing up right beside Lawrence, even though there’s enough space for two metres distance even if they had still been under strict instructions from the BBC.

“Tayce?” Lawrence asks, gratefully accepting the prosecco glass and hurriedly downing a too-big gulp in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Facetiming A’whora. Of course.”

“Of course. Maybe a bottle and a half of prosecco is gonny be the love potion she never knew she needed.”

“Fuck, we can only hope,” Ellie grins, already laughing through her words. “If we’re gonna be touring with them I don’t wanna have to karate chop through five layers of sexual tension every time I have to walk past them.”

Lawrence chuckles, tired but humoured and unable to not make the so-obvious joke. “You couldny fight sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll fight you in a minute!” Ellie nudges her with her shoulder and spills both of their prosecco from the glasses in their hands. The gesture is affectionate and out of place with the impending threat. “Where’s Bims? Thought they were with you.”

Lawrence shrugs. “Went out for a smoke with one of the runners about twenty minutes ago and never returned.”

“Good for them. Always thought there’s something inherently sexy about a winch in a back alley.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Eh, so would you!” Ellie cries, nothing short of incredulously offended. Her expression makes her look even more like a cartoon character than usual, and it’s entirely too endearing.

“Yeah, forgot that popular phrase. It takes two to winch in a back alley,” Lawrence jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. It’s too heavy and her ribcage feels like someone laced her into a corset and pulled it too tight. She’s hoping Ellie is too drunk to notice.

Ellie sips her prosecco with her eyes on her, then scrutinises her as she swallows it. She frowns, her nose wrinkling up as she prods Lawrence with an acrylic-nail finger. “What’s up?”

Fuck.

“The sky,” Lawrence says without conviction, and the raised eyebrow Ellie gives her in return is enough to unlock her. She deflates like a balloon and brings her phone up so Ellie can see it, turning it over in her hands. “Just…as happy as I am, and as much as this is all a dream come true…I keep psyching myself up to open any social media, and I can’t, because this one fucking brain cell of anxiety keeps telling me that everyone out there hates me and hates the fact I’ve won.”

Ellie’s face falls into a frown. She gently pries the phone out of her hands and places it on the table, takes one of Lawrence’s free hands in hers and rubs her thumb over her knuckles. “But all your other brain cells know that’s wrong.”

Lawrence sighs. “So why’s that one louder than all the rest?”

Ellie presses her lips together in a badly-suppressed smile. She’s giggling as she speaks. “Because you’ve only got two brain cells.”

Lawrence splutters a laugh, shoving Ellie with her free hand. The other is still laced together with hers. As the laughter dies down and the momentary serotonin wears off, Lawrence can feel her brow furrowing involuntarily. “Forty thousand people wanted Bimini to win, Ellie. Forty thousand. You know that’s like a whole town? That’s like the population of Coatbridge?”

“ Fuck Coatbridge!” Ellie exclaims, affronted, and her shock and insistence makes Lawrence snort all over again. “Okay, forty thousand people is a town but really, what’s that to the rest of the world? Think how tiny that is in the grand scheme of things, Lawrence! Honestly, give a fuck about what any bastard who wants to send you anything vile thinks of you! You’re so amazing! You won! Fuck everyone else!”

Lawrence wants to feel cheered up. The prosecco Ellie’s drunk is making her all the more animated and lively, giving her words a determination and a passion that her speech so rarely possesses most of the time. Ellie is calm, and she doesn’t get wound up easily. There’s something about the fact she’s growing this animated over getting Lawrence to believe in herself that warms her heart a little.

Then again…

“It’s not just that, though. There’s girls from home that haven’t even said well done. Girls I’ve always supported and couldn’t do enough for, and it’s like…really? You can’t be happy for me when I’ve actually managed to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for years?”

“Well maybe they have said well done, and you’ve just not seen it because you’ve been hiding,” Ellie gestures matter-of-factly at her phone. It doesn’t convince her.

“They won’t have. You’ll know who I’m talking about, Ellie.”

Ellie sighs a little, clearly conceding that Lawrence is right. Her grip on her hand tightens a little, and when Lawrence looks up at her in response her blue eyes hold a glint of assurance.

“Well, even if they haven’t…fuck ‘em. Onwards and upwards, chick. You’ve got ten new sisters out of this who’re always going to know what it’s like, they’re gonna be here for you no matter what,” Ellie says comfortingly. Lawrence knows why she’s said ten and not eleven, but Ellie affirms this with another squeeze and a slightly shy smile. “And you’ve always got me. You’ve always had me.”

This is true. She’s always had Ellie. Before the show, doing gigs with her and hanging out with her and going to DragCon with her. On the show, always there to reassure her or pull her out of a negative spiral or just lean against her shoulder and squeeze her hand. And after the show. Whatever that might look like. Whatever that might be.

She supposes that neither of them know yet.

“C’mon,” Ellie says decisively, holding out a hand for her as the song changes. It’s some sort of Paolo Nutini dirge, and Lawrence has to laugh at how obviously whoever is in charge of the music has rushed to attempt to find something Scottish. Lawrence can only blink at Ellie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on! ” Ellie laughs. Lawrence doesn’t know if she’s blushing or if it’s just the lights.

But she does know that she can’t leave Ellie hanging when she’s looking at her like that.

So Lawrence lets herself be dragged out to the dancefloor and pulled into a hug as Ellie sways them left to right ever-so-slightly out of time with the song, tipsy and full of affection given the way her arms are locked around Lawrence’s waist. It should feel stranger than it does. In reality, being held by Ellie feels as simple as just existing.

Or perhaps simpler than that, given the fact that Lawrence’s existence feels entirely surreal right now.

“You have to be in drag for half past se-ven,” Ellie sing-songs, bringing one of her arms out from around Lawrence’s waist and tapping her on the nose. Lawrence immediately misses it, so it’s a relief that it’s not gone for long.

“Because I wo-on,” Lawrence imitates back to her, and the way Ellie squeezes her waist in response and affirmation causes a smile and a blush to bloom on her face without her even being to control it. She rests her head against Ellie’s chest so she can’t have the satisfaction (ammunition) of seeing how she makes her feel.

It’s little moments like that that she needs right now. Anchors to keep her down on earth, to let her know that this isn’t just some really prolonged lucid dream and it’s all actually happening because currently reality is so absurdly ridiculous; she’s just won Drag Race and she’s slow-dancing with Ellie to the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the background, a parody of some American high school prom where she’s just been crowned the queen.

Moments like these- where Ellie’s holding her close as if she’s literally trying to protect her from the world- remind her that not everybody is against her. Not everybody hates her. Not everybody is wishing her a slow and painful death because Bimini didn’t win, least of all them. She knows that Ellie was never able to share what team she was on even though she hadn’t had a chance at the crown, but she didn’t have to. Not really. They’ve always been on each others’ team.

Ellie jolts Lawrence out of her daydream with the way her chest is shuddering, and Lawrence momentarily thinks she’s crying again before her soft giggle becomes audible over the music.

“What?” Lawrence tilts her head up, meeting Ellie’s scheming, smirking face.

“Can’t believe RuPaul Charles asked if you wanted to move to London, city of dreams, city of a thousand opportunities…” Ellie begins, Lawrence already laughing as she knows what the conclusion to her sentence will be. “…and you said, ‘yer awrite pal, am fine in Glesga wi the jakes an’ the Blue Lagoon chippy an’ the guy that stands on Buchanan Street and yells at everyone that they’re going to hell!’ ”

Lawrence would normally roll her eyes at Ellie’s impersonation of her accent, but she’s laughing too much at the joke that’s forming in her head to commit to it. “RuPaul asked if I wanted to move to London, and I said…”

The pair of them are almost giggling too much to get the punchline out, Ellie clocking on to how it’s going to end. In sync, the pair of them splutter out a “… NNNNAAW! ”

Giddy and happy, Lawrence rests her cheek against Ellie’s chest again. “London’s got junkies too, anyway.”

“This is gonna sound really selfish, but…don’t actually move to London,” Ellie’s voice murmurs from above her, and there’s something plaintive to it that makes Lawrence refrain from replying with a joke or a barb like she normally would. The way Ellie follows it up cements that fact. “It would probably be so good for you, but like…Glasgow would be lost without you, genuinely. And so would I.”

Lawrence can’t cry again tonight, even if it’s only because she thinks it’s physically impossible, so she just squeezes Ellie tight until she worries about her ability to breathe. “I’m not going anywhere, hen.”

Lawrence doesn’t even really know what they are, her and Ellie. They both still have Grindr and they talk about their hookups and raised hopes and broken hearts with each other like friends. But they’re not really just that. They’re affectionate, and they open up to each other with the same shared unspoken understanding of something Lawrence doesn’t understand. They hug for too long and cuddle up to each other when they’re together, and Lawrence can’t count the amount of times during filming that she’d find strength in the way Ellie would squeeze her hand without a word. They’ve woken up together too many times (why she’d felt the need to remind Ellie of that while the cameras were rolling, she’ll never know) and kissed each other more than that. Every time they say I love you they mean it, but they also mean a little bit more. There’s no butterflies or fast pulses or fluttering hearts- they’re past that stage. Everything is just natural and normal and easy.

She wonders if they’ll ever put a label on what they have. There’s a part of her that doesn’t ever want to.

“If we’re both still single by the time we’re forty,” Lawrence begins, leaning back to look at Ellie through her glazed, half-drunk half-tired eyes. “…we should just say ‘fuck it’ and get married.”

(She doesn’t even know if it’s a joke or not.)

Ellie laughs as if it is and nods as if it isn’t. “Drag wedding. We’d need to upstage Tayce and A’whora, though.”

Lawrence realises something. “I’ll turn forty two years before you.”

There’s a pause as the song starts to fade out, and it makes Ellie’s murmur seem louder than it is. “That’s okay. We don’t need to wait for me.”

The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart and the way Ellie’s talking as if it’s an actual plan makes her think maybe it wasn’t really ever a joke after all. It’s ridiculous though, and it’s all theoretical, and it’s a totally hypothetical scenario, and they’re both drunk , for Christ’s sake. So Lawrence pulls out of Ellie’s arms and takes her hands in her own, the song that’s started playing more upbeat and the opening chords inciting some sort of hope and optimism in her heart for the future that’s unfolding for the pair of them.

“One more song then bed?” she suggests. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she looks down at her.

“Whose bed?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dirty Diamond,” Lawrence shoots back without missing a beat, and as the first lines of the song fill the room she leans back and begins to spin the pair of them in a circle, both of them laughing as if everything is as simple as just that room, and the music blaring out from the speakers, and the lights flashing above them drenching them in purple and pink.

[barisifictionarchive]

Author: FreckledSkittles

Preferred Name: Chey

Have any events in your personal life ever influenced the things that you've written?

Oh, definitely! Sometimes when I have high anxiety, I write oneshot fics to get it all out. But generally, I use personal experiences for certain details like pet names or locations. I can name on both hands fics I’ve written like that.

Do you have a favorite movie? 

“Jurassic Park” is a cinematic masterpiece and I will not be taking criticism at this time. Also “Ratatouille” aka the best Pixar film. (Sorry for cheating and putting two, I just really love movies and wanna be a filmmaker one day)

Who is your favorite author?

Oof, I don’t have just one because it’s so hard to choose and I read such a wide variety. I’ve always appreciated Rick Riordan for his world building and characters, which I think has really influenced my writing. And not just because I’m developing a Greek mythology au lmaooo.  

How did you start getting involved in fanfiction?

Uhhhh the less embarrassing version is that I started writing on fanfiction(.)net when I was in middle school for a fandom that I am not going to post publicly because I am too embarrassed. I’ve always loved writing though and used to put outlines for different story ideas on my wall. No matter what’s going on in my life, no matter how I’m feeling, my writing is always gonna be there.

How did you get involved with Barisi?

I had watched SVU on and off for a few years but my college roommate got into it but I hadn’t watched the most recent seasons which is where she was starting so I got to watch new episodes and ones I hadn’t. (Funnily enough, when I heard Raúl was leaving, I got uninterested in anything without him, because he’s just so amazing like, how could I?) I ended up finding Barisi on accident because I have tornado anxiety (I’m from the north which hardly ever gets tornadoes) and wanted to look at Barba content and I looked for ships and found an article discussing Barisi and queerbaiting, and lo and behold. I started writing my first fic after that and posted it a month later.

What inspires you to write?

Literally anything. A video game I’m playing like “Breath of the Wild” or “Stardew Valley”? Canon scenario that should happen but won’t because the showrunners and writers are cowards? Saw a dog? Can’t stop thinking of a song? Watched a Youtube video and heard a quote that won’t get out of my head? I will find something. I’m surprised with what I haven’t found inspiration in, tbh. (Just now, I thought of an idea, my brain does not turn off Barisi)

What is your favorite fic that you have written? 

My favorite fic changes every now and then but I think right now, it’s “Running the Bases.” It’s a baseball au with Sonny as a pitcher and Rafael as a ghostwriter hired to write his memoir, and they are ridiculously into each other. I love baseball and it really helped ease the pain of not really having a baseball season in 2020. I faced a challenge in it around the type of conflict it was and the sort of story I wanted to tell with it, especially between Rafael and Sonny, and the end product is something I could not be prouder of. I genuinely think it’s one of the best things I’ve written and will ever write.

What is your favorite quote from a fic of yours? 

Like my favorite fic, this changes a lot too; right now, it’s from another fic I’m proud of: “A Learning Experience” which is a merman!Sonny fic and also slow burn (look i like angst and drama in fics okay)

“I’m sorry we aren’t the same.”

Rafael frowns and reaches a hand down. Sonny grabs it like a lifeline. “Why do you say that?”

“Because we can’t be together like we want. Or like I want. I don’t,” Sonny huffs at how frantic he sounds, his thoughts rushing together and making him trip over his words. It could be another tick against him to prevent him and Rafael from enjoying each other’s company. “I want to kiss you. And hold you. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Wait for me.” Rafael’s grip becomes desperate as his other hand flies forward to hold his hand between his. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I’m not going to avoid you again. I’m coming back to you.”

Sonny tries to steal one more kiss, just one more, but falls short of making the distance and sinks back down. At least it made Rafael smile, as much as the sadness was pulling at the edges. “I’d look for you otherwise. Even if I have to walk to you, I want to be with you.”

Rafael stretches out so he can press a kiss to his forehead. Sonny’s tail stutters underneath him—the kiss had been warmth and soft, such a nice comparison to the brash and hard exterior Rafael supports, harder than the scales on Sonny’s tail—but he stays afloat. “And even if I have to swim to you, I’ll come back to you.”

I,..,.,.,didn’t mean for this to be so long, it’s Barisi’s fault (not really it’s mine skgakjhsadjdhjlag). I just writing lines where Barisi is completely and utterly and ridiculously in love and no matter where they are they’re gonna try and find one another and wax poetry at one another because they’re what? Weenies In Love

What is your personal favorite fanfic? (Can be any fandom) 

Oooooo okay so I’m gonna do a fic from the Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin fandom. (That’s right, I like anime, that’s where the FreckledSkittles name comes from.) If I don’t read this fic every year, I think about it and just get so many emotions for it. That’s my favorite type of fic: there are so many emotions conveyed into a piece that are organized and concise and so beautifully done. The fic is “Say You Will (or That You Wish You Could)” by Friedcheesemogu. Believe it or not, it’s a fic with a “grumpy one and the sunshine one” pairing; it’s a bookstore au; and it’s a slow burn. I’m not saying I’m predictable but I’m definitely predictable.

Anything else you would like to add? 

I’ve been in a few fandoms over the years and I’ve had friends in all of them but the Barisi nation folks are the first ones I’ve met that feel like lifelong friends. If it weren’t for the support I got after posting my first fic, I would not be so vigorously writing Barisi or any SVU pairing at all. So thank you for taking me in and being nice to me and reading/commenting on my fics. When I say it makes my day, I mean it from the very bottom of my heart. 

A question you’d like to ask another author?

First off, hi, it’s an honor to talk to you, love your writing, mwah. Second, what do you do with ideas that you write out or outline but you don’t end up turning them into fics? I like to keep them even though they won’t turn into anything but they still bring me a little bit of happiness for what could have been.

[meandmyechoes]

So I think I’ve done more Chinese writing than I’ve had in the past five years during last month. It was... exhausting, but I also enjoy spinning it a little rewriting the novel in a different language. 

Now I’m actually writing a full length prose, one can finally see the trauma left by my middle school teacher. There’s like, at least 30% idioms in my chapters. I just, I’ve been conditioned into stuffing as much idioms as I can UNDER JUST A YEAR, and there’s no turning back. I mean, yes, idioms are excellent to convey ideas concisely, but they could be pretentious if overflown; especially when you write in a language that leans towards colloquialism as Cantonese. I just know a lot of idioms and sometimes it’s difficult not to use these minimalist words? I know where the line lies though. It’d be good to sum up an event, but re-consider if they are superfluous adjectives. 

Well, getting into this mess did inspired me to write two poems and a drawing, so I guess it has some benefits in the end?

Onward, I do miss writing English fiction so bad. I wrote a few essays in the meantime, but the last time I wrote a story was what? last summer? I should just sit down and write it like I’m doing now. I’ve been watching a ton of panels & interviews stuff, digging up the gems of Star Wars weekends. It’s hilarious and I want to make a non-show TCW resources masterpost later on. But just combing through that comics list is quite a work, and I have to sort out the download links. yeah. 

But like, I meant to talk a little about lunar new year in the diary post. And I actually have something never fully plumbed in my draft regarding some... rumour that I’ve now forgotten. Well, I want to say that it’s been a hectic month. I barely know what I did since the year started. Life’s still shit, but it’s very oblivious, you know. I don’t need to go into details here, it won’t change anything overnight. Just so if anyone’s reading, I’m of sound health, just moody. 

Let’s talk about something I haven’t even discussed inside my own head. So the past month, we’ve basically been helping my gramps move and renovating our own house as well. Very often we worked very late and it completely drained me. But I know Mom is working a lot harder than I am and I want to do my best to lessen her worries. In principle, I would gladly help out but it’s this, tcwaw, the translation, and the deadline of making a cny outfit, and mom breathing down my neck to exercise with the fam, plus having my hair cut in three years rather unwillingly, on top of my terrible self-maintenance (and that ever-lasting shadow of my college). phew, it’s a lot. and I got really, really depressed because I couldn’t finish tcwaw. I feel like, I’m betraying a pact or something okay. I know I took this too seriously and well, any day is tcw appreciation day here. but I tried really hard to make something and I really wanted to complete the challenge, to do this together. So at least, I’m letting myself down. and then there’s the fact that the first post didn’t garner as much notes as I wanted... but all of them are quality responses so thank you... (brb crying again)

Next, I’ve bitched about this many, many times but the negativity of the Forum! Like, pal and i are trying very hard to sway it back into some positive discussion and actual content with the translation, but these men are even bitchier than i am when it’s about the sequels. Like, I don’t expect a comment, it’d be a blessing if someone even clicked readmore. I’m doing it more out of my own interest but damn those manbabies! I understand the internal misogyny in Cantonese swears. Yet, it is the user that chose to aim that tool at a very public platform to express their anger. I just, expect, humans to be better-versed? The worst one of them is a father to a little girl! I’m not saying you can’t complain, I’m saying make it count. 

THE (COMPLETE LACK OF) READING COMPREHENSION ON THAT SITE. okay, let’s go all out bitch. Like, I would expect my partner to be a little better at this, like he reads, right? but no. not only did he misinterpret a singular question on the forum that effectively brought my intention to raise discussion to a full stop, he often mistranslate lines, and just, he’s just a stereotypical straight guy with a stereotypical view on “women + star wars”. It’s wearing me out and I don’t really find anything to learn from that guy. But I also pity him and it’s just bad practice for me to ghost people and cut off another unnecessary backdoor. It’s like he doesn’t really have anyone to talk to about Star Wars, and his contribution to the local fanbase is objectively admirable. This guy still thinks I’m a fellow dudebro, who might be a little obsessed. He has stepped on my toes before (and our circadian rhythm is just, opposite) and well, I learnt to be patient and ask for clarification before giving the other person a lecture. So I guess I could milk some benefits out of this relationship. It will fade eventually anyway. (For the record, I do not think this is deception. My gender is simply unnecessary professionally.)

And you know what’s really funny, to this day, I haven’t revealed I am a girl either on the forum or privately. But I’ve implied so before. I said, young girls like action figures too but unfortunately *I* personally don’t find them pretty-looking enough to buy as a child. I didn’t want to give it out then and still don’t now, but I thought that was quite easy a hint to read? (Because if I’m not a girl, my personal experience carries no weight, and so the only logical conclusion for the relevance and necessary inclusion of that example, is that I’m a girl) (and this is discounting all the Gina mess before. They are quite reasonable with that. but wonder why no one ever brought up her transphobia?) 

I don’t know, sometimes just reading them joke about how women don’t understand star wars, do i laugh or shake my head? Like, of course they won’t talk to you if you don’t contribute to the fandom. Why would anyone choose a whining fanboy over a creative writer? Like, do I charge in and say haha fool’s on you, I’ve been a girl all along and you guys are liking my meta posts like leeches. That’s ridiculous. Like, I wouldn’t mind influencing and slipping awareness on feminist issues in Star Wars, but also what am i to condition these strangers on the Internet? I know I have a saviour complex but I should hold them to the same standard as myself, as a responsible adult, right? I just wanna charge in and write about what it really means to read Star Wars through a feminist lens, and how the “representation” they thought was doing right and where it’s not enough, but I know it will fall on deaf ears. and I just wanna swing a bat and ask them to celebrate Star Wars instead. Otherwise the rational action is leaving that space for good, I’m just too busy. alas, alas.

update: [22/2/21]

last weekend they’ve come to talk/joke about how they’ve never meet a female star wars fan. Given, I haven’t in real life either. It was already a less-than popular hobby than most. But it’s the tone they talk about, without ever realizing there is/could be an ”undercover” agent. It’s an unnecessary complicated way of thinking, but I’m amused, laughing at their oblivious shamelessness. When I wrote this I didn’t know the discussion would turn that way, and what a coincidence. I couldn’t keep it much longer and dm mr. partner. we briefly talked about my concern but the topic was quickly changed into a general grievance about the lack of intelligent communication across local forum boards. I felt better after this, but I wonder if I should still strive to bring content towards it. It’s going to be a wasteful investment, but I do want to write some Ahsoka metas possibly, even if it’s just fact files on her inspiration and how tcw came to be. But I’ll have to evaluate if it’s that important I’ll be dropping off every other WIP for. (It’s not, but no sow no reap)