#inaccurate product description

[reyeslonestar]

.

[stargirlrchive]

INVISIBLE STRING — CASSIAN!

pairing: cassian x morrigan (half) sister reader

notes: :3 hi hi this is so scary. i haven’t posted a full thought out fic in probably a year (crazy) and i would like to say i have not finished the series so if timeline is inaccurate and just plots don’t make sense w canon it’s bc im still on acowar :p but cassian has taken over my brain and i can’t get him out of it !!!! c: part two is already being worked on bc im so proud of her. i hope u all enjoy it <3 ++ i know mor is described as being blonde and fairly pale in complexion which is why i made reader her half sibling, and there are no descriptions of reader’s physical attributes bc i wanted to kept it as neutral as possible :3

cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet?), azriel’s shadows being the biggest cassreader shippers ever, unrequited love but really it’s just idiots in love. also mentions (brief) of abuse from keir (gross!)

Your fingers nervously fumbled with the straps of your leathers. Heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to drop the nervous jitters, fingers balling into tight fist to stop their trembling.

It had been a long time since you had last seen your family. A long time since your gaze met violet eyes, or your nose scented cedar wood and night chilled mist. The lingering scent of sea salted water and citrus, and fresh paint and vanilla, and sweet wine and roses had nearly erased from your memory. But what you missed the most was the red gleam of siphons that glowed ruby red under certain light.

Truly, in an immortals life time half a decade was just a blip in time, minuscule, but you had never been gone this long from them. Especially not from Rhys, Az, Mor, and Cassian, with the exception of Rhysand’s imprisonment under the mountain.

You blinked away the burning in your eyes as you pushed open the doors of the town house. Soft chatter growing cold at the unexpected intrusion. You had barely enough time to register everyone seated at the table when shadows were zooming past their master to greet you excitedly.

Nuzzling into your hair and neck and arms. Azriel’s shadows had always been so fond of you. Whispering and singing in your ear in a language you could not understand.

They tugged you forward, until you were stumbling clumsily as they dragged you towards Cassian. An ache settled deep in your chest as you fought against them gently, moving between Azriel and Rhys. You missed the flash of hurt in hazel eyes as you avoided him.

Five years later and he still didn’t know the truth of your departure. Before your thoughts could send you spiraling, Rhys’ voice called your name. An undeniable smile in his voice before his arms were enveloping you, “Cousin, you’re back.”

“I am.” Your throat felt thick, tongue heavy as you fought back tears. His scent had always comforted you, Rhys had given you and Mor a chance. A lifeline in the sea that you were drowning in, in Hewn City.

Two sisters, both forced into a world that was cruel and unkind. Morrigan as rightful Heir of Keir had experienced the brunt of it all. From being stuffed into tight dress, to being pranced around in front of grimy men, and nearly forced into a life with a male whose family’s cruelty knew no bounds.

Your torment had been in forms of neglect and isolation. Your father had never much cared for you, being a product of affairs, his bastard, he left you alone. Barely acknowledged your presence when at the mere age of nine you were thrown into his arms from your mother’s father, stating you were no longer his responsibility since your mother’s death. Your father’s neglect, you now realized, had been a blessing.

You were Mor’s shadow. Clinging to her as any younger sister would. Always causing trouble until you learned to obey. Mor never let you experience the abuse from your father fully. Always taking the blame, always hiding you. You owed her and Rhys, your family, everything.

There was a soft clearing of a throat that pulled you and your High Lord apart. Shadows greedily pulling you to face everyone else. Azriel’s hazel eyes assessing you, looking for any injuries before his fingers were squeezing your elbow gently. A soft hello.

Your eyes flickered around the room, and you realized just how much had changed. Your High Lady, and dear friend seated at the head of the table, Rhys by her side. Besides him sat Azriel and then Elain.

Your throat tightened as you allowed your eyes to flicker to the other side, Nesta beside Feyre, and Cassian beside her. Amren had most likely skipped out dinner to enjoy the privacy of her apartment, and Mor was no longer around. Preferring to spend her time on the continent.

The golden thread that tied you to the Lord of Bloodshed sung loudly and happily in your chest. Five years since you had last laid eyes on him and the feeling alone nearly brought you to your knees.

Your eyes flickered away from Cassian, ignoring the way your heart and soul begged you not to. “Is my room still available?”

Feyre sent you a soft smile, sad really, as she realized how desperately you wished to find some peace and quiet. She knew of your affections for the General, and how you had never told him only to watch him fall in love with her sister.

“Of course it is, but you should join us.”

You swallowed roughly at Rhys’ words, unable to stop the gnawing pain in your heart and the cruel words circling in your mind. Cassian was not yours, he had never been and it was unfair of you to expect him to love you the way you had always yearned for him too. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it always fucking hurt.

“I’m quite tired, maybe tomorrow.” Rhys didn’t push, just affectionately tucked your hair behind your pointed ear and let you go.

Your steps were quick, hurried and Cassian’s voice sounded like smooth velvet as he called your name. You didn’t stop, your knees nearly buckling under your weight as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Mumbling a quiet, “Goodnight,” before disappearing into the hallways in search of your bedroom.

During your five years away at Day the turmoil in your heart had eased, if only slightly. Cassian would unintentionally send his emotions down the bond, and it seemed it always happened when your heart had finally let you rest.

When you finally saw light at the end of a never ending tunnel of despair, the mating bond would reel you in, viciously and unforgiving. You were sure you were being punished.

How dare you ever try to question what the Mother wanted for you?

Being back in Velaris, being back home, felt so much worse. With the distance, even when his emotions poured into your very bones, it felt weakened. Less tethered to you.

But now? Now you felt his sorrow so deeply tears fell freely down your cheeks.

You had only been trying to sleep for a few hours, your rest had been fitful at best, anxiety prickling at your fingertips as you threw the warm blanket off of you. You needed air. You needed clarity.

Your feet moved on their own. From what you last knew there were no longer many residents here. You were careless in thinking so as your feet moved hurriedly through the house and out into the garden.

Filling your lungs with air as tears prickled at your eyes, the cold nipping at your skin as you sunk into one of the benches placed around the area.

You had only been in his presence for a mere five minutes and your heart was already waging a war against you.

Maybe you could convince Rhys to send you off once again. Your years away at Day had been filled with research and insight, maybe you could do the same at Dawn. Or any other Court that wasn’t here. Gods, you’d even take the forsaken libraries in the Hewn City if it meant not being here. You’d beg if you had too because this, this was too much.

You let out a shaky breath as your mind ruthfully plagued you with memories of the past. Of your utter devastation of hearing that Mor had slept with Cassian.

Of the guilt you felt after, when you avoided her in anger and utter jealousy and then told of the way she was savagely left to die.

You would never forgive yourself.

Remembering when you realized you were utterly and hopelessly devoted to your life long friend, and learning to live with just having a small part of him for you.

Hoping and praying to the Mother that he’d love you back. Hoping to see a spark of honeyed warmth, or a lick of jealousy when you found solace in the warmth of another. Anything, you prayed and prayed, but she never answered.

Not until you had pinned him down on the training matt, wings sprawled out beneath him as you stared at him smugly. A soft, primal, smirk on his face as he gripped your thighs. “You’re getting better.”

Your laughter filtered through the open area, “Only ‘better’? I just kicked your ass.”

He grunted, tugging you gently and in a quick succession of movements had flipped you over, pinning you to the ground. His thighs caged over yours, pinning your hands above your head as he sent you a toothy smile.

The wind that had been knocked out of you was not due to the fact your back had hit against the matt, but because something snapped inside of you. An invisible golden thread, darting from your chest to his, so visceral you could almost taste it, singing happily at finally being acknowledged.

But he gave no indication that he had felt the mating bond snap into place, “Yes, ‘better’. Because you should know not to let your guard down.”

Your speechlessness could’ve been a product of being bested in sparring, your mind racing with things to say but nothing came out.

The fog that had formed in your brain cleared at the bark of laughter that left Azriel, “If you two are done flirting, get back to sparring or leave the ring.”

You don’t remember what excuse you used to suddenly needing to leave but you did. Hope sparkling in your chest at what you thought was an answered prayer by the Mother. He was yours, just as much as you were his.

Only for the ember to burn to ash quickly, as two nights after Cassian had come to you looking for guidance on how to court Nesta.

You tried so hard, pushing down the mating bond that roared and screamed in utter agony as he spilled to you his affections for the eldest Archeron.

Your heart stuttering and begging for release of this pain as your mind caught up to you. He’d never see you. He hadn’t before, so what would be so different now? What would suddenly make you worthy in his eyes? The mating bond?

You realized quickly that you didn’t want that. Didn’t want him to love you just because fate decided to pair you together. You wanted him to love you, to yearn for you the way you had for him without something telling him to.

So with a forced smile you consoled him. Running your fingers through his hair and giving him advice on how to win her heart.

Some days you cursed yourself for that night. You wished you had been selfish and told him he was yours. But then the guilt would settle and you knew you’d never have the heart to force that onto your dearest friend.

In the end all you wanted was his happiness, if that was with someone else then you’d have to learn to live with it.

It had all led up to the night where you accidentally walked in on Nesta and Cassian in the kitchen at the House of Wind, lips and tongues tangled.

The mating bond felt like it was burning you alive from the inside out, angry and volatile as it blamed you for pushing him into her arms.

You’re not sure how you ended up in Rhys office, your face pressed into him as your fingers tried to claw at the hurt in your chest, “Make it stop, Rhys. Gods please, just make it stop.”

He had never seen you like this, never seen you in such despair as he tried to calm you down. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help you.

Only held you in his arms and sang a lullaby his mother had always sang to the three of you as children. Your desperation and pain eased and numbness eventually coated your insides.

“Send me away.”

He hesitated, wiping your tears as Feyre’s soothing touch caressed your back. His violet eyes shining with hurt and concern for you, “What are you running from?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep timber of a voice you were so familiar with,“Is it just me, or are you avoiding me?”

Heat quickly ran from your skull down to your spine at the velvety voice that belonged to Cassian. Your back tensing uncomfortably as you turned to look at him.

You refrained from letting your eyes glaze down his form. Bare chested and wings lazily held up as his brows furrowed when he took you in.

“Cassian-what are you doing here?”

You stood up from your seated position as he moved closer. His eyes never leaving yours, “Here as in the gardens or here as in my home?”

Your brows furrowed, were he and Nesta now permanently in the town house? It would’ve made sense, seeing as they were all here, having dinner earlier.

“In-in the gardens.”

His lips twisted up into a small quirk of a smile, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to reacquaint himself with your features.

Your heart lurched to your throat as his gaze lingered on your lips before he looked back into your eyes. “I heard you walking around. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you know it was me?”

His lips tugged into a proper smile this time, “Who else could it be?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell you that he’d long ago familiarized himself with the sound of your steps.

Your brows pinched together, full lips tugging into a small frown, “Where is everyone else?”

“Elain is most likely off in Lucien’s apartment, Azriel is at the House of Wind.”

And despite yourself, you asked, “And Nesta?”

Your throat bobbed softly, heart already preparing itself to hear that she was tangled in his sheets in his room. A soft shrug came from him, muscles flexing deliciously at the movement, “Probably with her mate.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his words. Her mate? You were sure the confusion was evident on your face as Cassian laughed. “It’s a bit unfair isn’t it? She was made a measly six years ago, and she’s found who her soul is tethered to, while we’ve been around for centuries and have no luck.”

“Lucky her.”

He hummed, eyes glazing over your face and the look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Warm and honeyed. It made your stomach twist and turn into uncomfortable knots.

“I should go to bed, Cassian. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You made to walk away from him, but his rough fingers wrapped around your forearm in a touch that could only be described as gentle. When you finally looked up at him his brows were pinched together in confusion, and hurt.

“What’s with the full name?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly at your words, “You’ve used it on me twice in the span of a few minutes. I’m never ‘Cassian’ to you.”

A stretch of silence passed between the two of you, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Gods, you had come around to the idea of seeing him tangled with Nesta. But you were back and he was single. Or at least not with her and you don’t know what you feared most.

That your heart would take this as hope and yearn for him, and watch him fall for another, or to finally tell him how you felt. If it would even mean anything to him, if he’d even want you.

You couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. You refused to let hope spark in your heart when he had already tangled himself into your very being like overgrown ivy. You don’t know if you’d survive any more rejection.

His voice was softer this time, thick fingers cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to look at him, “You were gone five years and I can barely get five sentences out of you before you’re running away from me.”

Tears stung behind your eyes as your throat tightened at the hurt twinging his voice. It took everything in you to not soothe the crease between his brows, your body tensing softly as his thumb caressed your bottom lip gently, “If I have offended you, or hurt you some how tell me how to fix it. I have been waiting for five years for your return and I cannot stand to think that this whole time you were away you were angry with me.”

You wished you could speak, but your tongue felt heavy. The hurt in his eyes turned to something akin to despair at your silence, his hands dropped from caressing your face to hang loosely by his side, his wings slumped against the floor.

You let out a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to look away from him, “I should go to bed.”

And this time he didn’t stop you.

Weeks had trickled by so slowly since your return to Velaris as you tried to find your place back in your home court.

You had never been particularly good at fighting, your strength came from your knowledge. Books and literature had been something you had clung to as a child and it never left you.

You digested text in a way the inner circle did not, memorized details and names and faces others struggled with. But that did not mean Azriel was any easier on you when it came to training.

The muscles in your abdomen ached painfully, your arms felt heavy and filled with sand as he squared up once more. “I need a break.”

“You need to focus.”

A whine ripped from your throat in protest, Az’s shadows peppering cooling kisses and caresses on your skin to try and comfort you. “Just a few minutes. Please?”

“You think if someone were to try and attack you, they’d spare you if you whined like a petulant child?”

At your silence and glare he continued, “Didn’t think so.”

Your fingers balled into fist as you readied yourself, your muscles heavy with exhaustion as you threw punch after punch his way. “Remain focused, let yourself do what feels instinctual.”

You were sure you would’ve passed whatever Azriel’s standards were had his shadows not wrapped around your legs. Tugging insistently and trying to drag you away.

You heard Azriel’s noise of protest as he tried to rein his shadows back but they refused. Your head turned towards the direction in which they were tugging you in only to be met with Cassian’s warm hazel eyes already on you.

With an accidental misstep you were tumbling forward, falling far too quickly to catch yourself. Your head ringing harshly as the side of your face smacked against the mat.

Someone called out your name in a panic, and you missed the way Cassian had roughly pushed Azriel away from you as he turned you around.

His eyes frayed with worry as your eyes remained unfocused, “Can you look at me, dove?”

You blinked a few times before a groan of discomfort left your mouth, “What the fuck happened?”

Azriel’s shadows sheepishly began to caress your skull, pressing kisses of apologies on your skin. You didn’t hear anything besides tiny wisps of whispers coming from them but you’re were sure they hissed at Cassian as he shooed them away.

It took you a few minutes but you were eventually able to sit. Your ears ringing and still a little dizzy but you were feeling better despite the throb on your temple.

Azriel’s shadows peered at you from behind him sheepishly, and it was only when you extended your hand to them that they swarmed you in a flurry. Rubbing against your neck and hair affectionately, being careful with the side of your face but caressing you softly.

“They say they’re sorry.”

Your lips quirked up at Azriel’s words, “They’re forgiven.”

They buzzed in excitement, before stilling softly as Cassian extended a hand out for the shadows. They treaded carefully, lightly caressing his arm as in apology as if they had also offended him.

A few swirled around your hand and fingers, tugging it much more gently into Cassian’s extended hand. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment but before you could pull away, he tangled his fingers with yours.

The shadows swirled around your intertwined hands as if proud of themselves before finally returning to their master. Azriel sent you a soft smirk, and with a shake of his head diseapeared into a mass of dark misty shadows.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded slowly, retorting in exasperation, “Just feels like I hit my head.”

Cassian’s lips tugged into a soft smile, helping you up and not dropping your tangled fingers, “Let’s get you to Madja.”

He pulled you along closely, walking you both towards the edge of the training area. Before you could overthink about being so tangled in his arms he wrapped himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head to his chest, while the other gripped the back of your thighs.

Your heart pummeled to your stomach as he took off flying, it had been so long since you felt the breeze against your face like this. Your legs wrapping around him as a startled laugh left your mouth.

You felt his laugh more than you heard it, his chest rumbling against yours and for the first time in years, your heart felt at ease around Cassian.

No turmoil or anguish, just overflowing affection and happiness as he flew you carefully around Velaris. Your face tucked away from being so pressed to his chest to look up at him and your breath hitched.

He was truly so beautiful, rough and sharp features that looked like he was made out of stone carving. His lips the perfect shade of dusty rose and plump, his nose fit him beautifully too, slightly crooked at the slope from being broken over the years. White-raised scars on his beautiful tan skin. You were so close you could see the faintest of freckles that doted his skin.

“You didn’t pass out on me, did you?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks at getting so lost admiring him before you tucked your face back into his chest, “No, I’m fine.”

His fingers squeezed around your thighs as he pulled you closer before he descended down to the Town House.

You were grateful for the hand he kept placed on your back as he walked you into the house. Your dizziness hitting you once again as you landed on solid ground. The warmth running down your spine at his heated touch had you suppressing a shiver.

Your bones ached in protest when he pulled away and sat you down in front of an amused Rhys and exasperated Madja. The elder lady frowning at the bruise on your temple.

“Cassian, I’ve told you not to be so rough when training,” Madja’s soothing voice chastised the General. Your lips tugging into an amused smiled at the noise of protest that left his mouth.

“It was Azriel’s shadows that caused this.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed softly at his words but said nothing more. A hiss leaving your lips as she pushed against the bump forming near your eye.

Cassian’s fingers twitched nervously at the sound of your discomfort. His eyes glued to you as you were looked over by the healer.

Something warm and comfortable hummed in his chest seeing you. The weeks you had been back were nothing short of torture for him.

In the five years you had been gone Cassian came to the devastating realization that he was utterly and unabashedly enamored with you. Cursing himself for the time wasted on pointless lovers, on Nesta, when you had been by his side for the better half of four centuries.

His heart cracking open and knocking him over one restless night as his mind tormented him with everything he had been lacking since you had departed to Day.

He figured that he had always loved you, had always cared for you. But the twisting of his gut in your absences alerted him that it was in a way that was different from Mor and Amren, and then Feyre. His obsession with needing you near, needing you safe stemmed from some thing else entirely.

It took four months of being away from you to realize that. Cursing himself at all the time wasted.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to get ahold of you while you were studying and researching to your hearts content at Day. He had sent letter after letter, received few responses but he had figured you were busy.

His skin had only started to crawl with dread and anxiety when there had been reasons for the Inner Circle to attend a meeting, or some grand ball thrown by Helion, and you were never there.

Either whisked away to some other Court for extended research or taking time away to visit your sister.

The very last time he had stepped foot in Day while you had been there was about three months before your return. Rhys had granted him permission to seek you out.

And when he stepped foot into Day Court’s palace in search of you his hope dwindled as Helion informed him that you had just left a few days prior for a fourteen day tour at Autumn Court. But he swore he scented the soft jasmine and lavender cream that he recognized as your scent roaming the halls.

Resigned, he returned home.

Then you returned, so careful and tense in his presence he wished to turn back back to when things were easier between the two of you. When his face would nuzzle into your soft belly as you ran your fingers through his hair and consoled him after a nightmare.

Or how he’d find his favorite pastries wrapped up on the counter that he knew you’d gone out of your way to get him.

He missed when his feelings hadn’t tangled themselves so deeply into you and he could just be. Gods, did he miss you. He yearned and ached and burned for you while you seemed content at keeping him an arms length away.

The mother could be so cruel.

He barely registered Rhys pressing an affectionate kiss to your bruised temple and mumbling that he was taking Madja back before something so earth shattering was unraveling in his chest.

His eyes wide and chest heaving the second the two of you were alone and your eyes met. A deeply rich golden invisible thread darting from his chest to yours.

He had unconsciously poured all his emotions of recognizing the bond down your connection. A primal need to be closer to you bursting from his chest as he tugged on the bond.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t seem surprised he noted. Your side of the bond closed off tightly he could feel nothing from your end. He hated that.

Your eyes were wide in apprehension as you stared at him, tears lining your eyes as his emotions of love and devotion were so strong they brought him to his knees before you. Pleading and desperate as he called out your name.

“Don’t do this, Cassian.”

His brows pinched together as he reached for you, the bond screaming in agony as you avoided his touch and stood up to create some space between the two of you.

“Dove, listen to me. Please.” He was not above begging, still kneeled in the center of the room as his wings slumped to the ground. His eyes following your every move as you nervously ran your fingers through your hair.

“I feel it, I feel you.” His fingers and hands were steady as he pointed to his chest despite the feeling of anxiety creeping into him.

“You’re mine, my mate, dove.”

There was a beat of silence, Cassian staring at you as if you had delicately placed every beautiful star in the sky. But you had never seen him look at you like that before.

Never had he inclined he wanted you besides the bond. Gods, did it hurt. Your stomach churned sadly as your fingers balled into fist as you shook your head in denial.

“No. No, you don’t get to just suddenly want me because of the bond. I don’t want it this way.”

His frown deepened at your words, your emotions so heavily felt they started to crack the walls you kept up and pouring into the bond.

You had known for years. Five years, you had known and said nothing. “Gods, Cassian! I have loved you for so long. Prayed and begged to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to the Moon and Stars to have you return my affection and you didn’t.”

Cassian wanted to speak, to protest your words but the frustrated tears pouring down your beautiful face and the agony building in his chest, that was no longer just his, kept him quiet. “I’ve watched you pine and love others, and you have never looked at me that way. You had never thought me worthy of you in that way, and now that you know. It shouldn’t change a thing.”

“But it does,” His fingers itched to devote themselves to you. To memorize every curve and dip on your body. “It changes everything-”

You cut him off before he could continue, before he could tell you that he now felt worthy of loving you. That he now knew he could love you in a way you deserved if the Mother had blessed him with you as his wonderful mate. “Well it shouldn’t.”

You sniffled softly as you stared at him directly in his eyes, “I don’t want it to.”

[19burstraat]

Ok we all know guild me, build me exists due to my artistic abilities being very lacking in the visual arts, so rather than drawing the crows in the komedie brute, I had to write kaz in. however I had ideas for the others that I couldn't get into a fic, so I've put em down here

Kaz: (description ripped from guild me, build me):

a heavy black cape, sewn with stolen chains and jewels so that it jingled upon every movement (...) It was marked up and slit here and there, on the edges and at the collar, to give the impression of crow’s feathers, and it was made of some kind of shiny, velvety fabric that had the oily shine of crow’s plumage. The gloves were the same material, thinner and more embroidered than Kaz would have ever entertained, and the cane was a plain, inaccurate copy– (...) the mask; a silver crow’s head (...) crooked over the eyes and nose, almost like a Kaelish plague mask. But it left the mouth unblocked; of course it did. Dirtyhands needed to talk.

Inej:

Light and flimsy dark (doesn't have to be black; could be blue or grey) fabric for the veil and cloak. Has an element of spiderwebby fraying to it which is a nod to her being... Well, a spider lmao. But also meant to look ghostly and insubstantial, can sometimes see a metal shiny suggestion of knives underneath it. The veil can be parted just down the side of her face, so you can occasionally see a bit of her face, but never the whole thing. Would not be a practical costume to climb or spy in; too long and bothersome, the same way Kaz's Dirtyhands cloak would not be practical to pickpocket in. Sometimes productions get her a few cheap sheath knives.

Jesper:

Rabbit head mask, short cloak in some batshit colour like green or pink, lined w rabbit's fur and threaded with gambling chips, 'lucky' rabbits feet, coins, and stray bullets. Adornments tied on loosely so they swing everywhere when he moves. This way there's also a real risk of the Kaz and Jesper actors getting tangled together if they interact, which is not symbolic, just funny. This is our get-along Komedie Brute costume :) (we are stuck)

Wylan:

A once-fine red cloak with a high ruffly collar-- now tattered and singed and gone to seed. Little bits of wiring or string or pouches of powders etc sewn into it; sneakily embroidered with the Van Eck laurel around the edges. Mask, while elaborate and matching with the cloak, only covers the top half of his face, as if he's not quite as all-in as the others. For similar reasons, the cloak is half-length.

Matthias:

Wolf's head mask ofc, white fur cape a lot longer and more substantial than Jesper's, with heavy furring around the neck (made to bulk out the actor if they're not the right stature, which most will not be). Likely they also weight his boots to make his tread sound more imposing. Possibly a wig if they can afford one, since Druskelle are known for the long hair.

Nina:

Porcelain-doll Venetian style mask (you know the ones!) with a single black tear-- referential both to that bit in CK when they identified themselves that way in the crowd of Mister Crimsons, and the Queen of Mourning thing. Mask is covered with a very light veil, and she wears a long heavy silk cloak with a bit of a hint of a kefta, but not enough to get the Komedie Brute in shit from Ravkan Grisha lmao. Entrance usually heralded with a blue corpselight.

I imagine dependent on the production and the costumier they could look great and beautifully elaborate, or they could look cheap and shit lmao.

Bonus: I got bored and made a mock-up of a page of a Komedie play. I edited over the first folio for this, yes. Sorry to the Big W.S.

[supernovafics]

•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖. ❞✧∘

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a modern enemies-ish to lovers actor!steve harrington series·。.·゜

in which before you even meet him, you’ve already heard enough about him. steve harrington— a phenomenal award-winning actor who is known almost exclusively as an asshole. he’s also set to be the lead in the movie that you’re currently working on as a production coordinator. over the years, you’ve somehow found routine in the never-ending hecticness of your job; the abrupt issues you’d have to handle, or the problems that you were tasked to prevent from arising in the first place. all you cared about was doing your absolute best at your job and you always did. but barely a week before filming is scheduled to begin, things change for the worse when, due to extenuating circumstances, you have to also be steve’s assistant for the entire three months of filming. it’s an unexpected addition to your already full plate that completely changes the routine you’d become so accustomed to. and from your first interaction with him, it’s abundantly clear that everything that’s been said about him is true, so your mind is only stuck on one thought, how the hell would you survive three months of being his assistant? 

warnings: modern au, actor!steve, asshole!steve, potential inaccurate descriptions of filming/film industry (i’m trying my hardest though lol), eventual smut (minors dni!), no use of y/n, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

total wc: 41k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

prologue ━ the show must go on

chapter one ━ some rumors hold truth

chapter two ━ it can always get worse

chapter three ━ another round

chapter four ━ wave the white flag *

chapter five ━ a secret we're dying to keep *

chapter six ━ that bittersweet cup of coffee

chapter seven ━ the art of a cinematic goodbye

epilogue — forever home *

[howdoesagrapewrites]

Pavitr and Gaytari anon back, I’ve kept thinking about Tricycle all week tbh. Since your requests are open, could I ask for a sequel to tricycle h.aha poking fingers?

(I hope you’ve been having good days as well!)

𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨

Cw: fluff, poly!fem!reader x Pavitr Prabhakar x Gayatri Singh, probably inaccurate description of how the spider people spend their days off, the squad meeting Gayatri and Y/N

Notes: I'm delighted people were so receptive to that fic, I had a lot of fun writing it<3 thank you for your support!!

>Pavitr had of course told everyone about you two

>And while some were just touched by the deep affections of the lover boy, like Gwen or Jessica, others (Miguel) would appreciate if he shut up about his partners while important reunions

>"This is not the subject, please stop interrumpting, if it's so important to everyone to meet Pavitr's partners, please plan it outside of this and cut it"

>So the core four followed Miguel's advice and went to Mumbattan to meet the people his friend was always gushing about

>However, Pavitr had to find a good excuse to avoid telling you he was spiderman and explain where did he meet such a... Colorful group

>You and Gayatri knew he was Spiderman but honestly you wouldn't tell him, he's probably so proud he'd been able to keep it a secret:(

>So he said these are his work colleagues :3 you know, from the part time job he obviously has and always lines up with spiderman's public apparitions and never ever comes up? :3

>he's such a terrible liar omg

>"What do you think he means by work colleagues? More spidermans?" You asked, getting dolled up with your girlfriend for the meeting

>"Maybe, or maybe they're other heroes we don't know about" she uncapped the lipstick, a rich wine colour she bought for you so you could match (and kiss without the colour of your lipsticks clashing) "pucker up"

>you did as she said, waiting for the lipstick, but she gave you a quick peck on the lips before holding your chin and applying the product with a content smile

>You met your boyfriend on the park, like you scheduled

>You waved at his friends, and he leaped to hug you both

>"This is my girlfriend, Y/N, and this is my girlfriend's girlfriend, Gayatri, she's also my girlfriend" Pavitr announced, very proud

>Gayatri got along easily with Gwen, her undeniable kindness and accesible personality being great to ease Gwen's anxious first impression, Miles was also very outgoing, and asked a lot of questions about how you three met, and how you started dating

>Hobie wasn't as quick to start conversation, but it had a natural flow since it began

>You were very well received by his friends, but a couple hours of hanging out in, your boyfriend started to look at you with puppy eyes

>You were sitting close to Hobie, he was talking about his band and other things, you actively listened and made some comments, you felt something grab your hand, and saw Pavitr putting your palm in his face, cradling his face

>"It's alright everyone, I know they're wonderful, don't steal my girls away"

>Everyone laughed loudly, they've never seen Pav so legitimately upset over anything, and now he looks like a kicked dog

>"It's a'hight, we wouldn't, you'd threw yourself off a bridge if we did" Hobie said, only partially joking

>"It's getting late already anyway" Miles warned

>They agreed to leave, but Gwen lingered a few seconds on her goodbyes to you and Gayatri, Pavitr frowned and started moving his hands to signal her to leave

>"Challo, challo, you have work to do, we'll see each other" he said to his friends before they left, turning to you, and put each arm into your shoulders to hug you both tenderly, his hair tickled your face as he held you close, you and Gayatri held hands on Pavitr's back

>Gayatri let out a low, airy giggle, and you whispered reassuring words into your boyfriend's ear

>"I think we made a good first impression" your girlfriend winked at you with a sultry smile

[igotlovestruck]

easy on me [ christian pulisic ]

you were young when you and christian broke up. you made a huge decision for the both of you back then and you were confident enough to know that the decision you made would be better for the both of you, but what happens when he learns about the biggest secret you’ve been hiding from him since you separated ways?

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — christian pulisic x ex!reader; oc!emily, oc!ezekiel, oc!andrew . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — angst, unplanned pregnancy, profanities, inaccurate description of mentioned places (as i’m not american, nor do i live in the states) . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

[ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ] — 6,219 words . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 📲 °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ the LONGEST scenario i've written, all thanks to disney+ hahahaha i’ve rewatched the parent trap and the game plan the other day, so i thought about this. i also plan on writing a parent trap-like story, but i’m still figuring out how i’d write it lol but anyway, enjoy! ❤️ btw, i haven’t betaread this so if there’s any errors, let me know and i’ll edit it!

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

watching this little kid grow up was both scary and amazing. five years have passed since you met him, since you first heard his heartbeat. five years ago, he opened his eyes and welcomed himself in this cruel world one september morning. watching him grow up to the person he was today felt both accomplishing and depressing. ezekiel mate was his name, and yes–you’ve named him after his father. his father who is not aware of his own existence. it wasn’t ezekiel’s fault though, you’ve made this decision by yourself and there was nothing you could do but uphold your decision and do your responsibilities as a mother–a single mother in fact. you thought it would be the best for all sides, for you and ezekiel’s father. 

he has his own career to think about, he was about to make his name known to people. to be known in the sport he loved most and all people would cheer his name, plaster printed copies of his face and name across the whole country. you didn’t want to ruin that opportunity for him, a child would only affect his career. between practices, training, matches, flights–surely, christian wouldn’t have any time to take care of a child. with you in north america and him in europe, it just simply wouldn’t work. you still remember the night you broke up with him, in fact, you can’t forget about it. it haunts you like a stupid nightmare, it keeps you awake most of the time.

you sacrificed a lot for ezekiel. giving up university for a year to navigate things on how to be a mom, and trying to make ends meet by working–sure, your parents were there to help financially and take care of your baby in times you needed them, but you wanted to be able to support ezekiel on your own. balancing work, university and a growing child was hard and there were days that you wanted to just give up. but you didn’t, because you were the only parent that ezekiel has in his life.

“mama?” you heard a tiny voice call you, waking you up from reverie. ezekiel’s tiny footsteps were heard as he ran towards you. “why are you still awake?” you smiled at the little boy, gently picking him up from the ground and sat him on the kitchen counter in front of you. his slightly curly hair, deep dimples and honey brown eyes that look so captivating under the light, reminded you so much of his father. not to mention, they both share the same birthday.

“just… thinking of something, baby.” you answer, “why are you still awake? we have a flight to catch tomorrow, you know?”

“i know! we’re going to florida, to aunt emily and i’m too excited to sleep, mama.”

you giggled, “well, we both need to sleep now. we have an early flight and you need to have a lot of energy when you get to aunt emily’s place.”

you took ezekiel in your arms, making sure that his favourite stuffed toy was secured in his arms as you made your way back to his room. gently, you put him to his bed and tucked him in, sitting on the edge of his bed as you stared at him, waiting for his eyelids to shut as he told you how his day was. ezekiel spent the day with your parents, they lived nearby and offered to babysit him while you went to work.

minutes later, ezekiel’s words were slurring. meaning, he was about to drift off to dreamland. you both have to be awake by 5 am to catch your flight, and it was already almost midnight. you don’t need a fussy, grumpy 4-year-old throughout your 3 hour flight to florida. when you were sure that ezekiel was fast asleep, you planted a kiss on his head, tips of your fingers running through his soft cheeks as you stared at him. 

you left ezekiel’s room, quietly shutting the door closed. instead of going to your room to rest, you opted to stay in the living room. you sat there in silence, letting your own thoughts eat you again. you felt anxious, but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. you stare at the wall across from where you were sitting, it was filled with pictures of your family and some pictures of you and ezekiel. the ones from his birth, to his birthdays and his first day of preschool. you remembered that day clearly, when you fetched ezekiel from your parents’ place after his first day of preschool about a few months ago. you two were driving back to your place from your parents, he was quietly playing with his ipad behind you when he asked something you didn’t expect.

“mama, do i have a papa?” he asked, eyes still on his gadget. your heart dropped at the question. “i saw my friends with their papa today. do i have a papa?”

you remember pulling over the side of the road to take a deep breath before answering. he picked it up so early, noticing that it was only the two of you the past four years. 

“of course you have a papa, my love.” you answered, not really sure what to say next.

“why is he not here? does my papa hate us?”

sometimes, four year olds ask the most piercing questions and they don’t even know how it could change one’s whole mood, just like what your son was doing. “he doesn’t hate us, your papa is just… busy.” 

“is it my fault, mama?”

you sighed, removing your seatbelt and faced ezekiel. “no, baby. it’s not your fault, it will never be your fault.” you said, smiling to let him know that he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. “it’s just… mama and papa needed some time away from each other. it doesn’t mean that it’s your fault, baby. it’s never your fault.”

ezekiel smiled at you, mumbling a small okay. you chose to go to the nearest fast food chain drive thru, not in the mood to cook as you were tired the whole day and with ezekiel’s questions to you, sure enough you wouldn’t be able to focus on making dinner. 

“it’s mama’s fault, zeke.” you murmured, holding a picture of your son. “i’m the one to blame.”

—

“if you don’t wait for mama, you might be lost and i will be very sad.” you tell your 4-year-old as you wait for your bags. 

the flight from new york to florida was easy, because your son was asleep throughout the duration of the flight. however, it was during the landing when he woke up and started to be talkative and hyper. you only had at least an hour or two of sleep from last night, waking up at 3 am to catch a 6 am flight. ezekiel was usually listening to you every time you two go out, but since he’s all napped out, you were dealing with a hyper kid (you blame yourself for giving him cookies before you landed). 

ezekiel held your hand as you pushed your luggage towards the arrivals exit. you two were greeted with a big sign that says welcome to florida, y/n and zeke! by your best friend, emily and her husband, andrew. your son ran straight to his godmother, he couldn’t read the sign yet but he knew it was his favourite aunt.

“zeke, you’re a big boy now!” emily exclaimed, hugging him tight and letting go of your son a few seconds later to face you. “and you, a hot mama, you’re looking beautiful as ever!”

you playfully hit her arm and hugged her. the four of you made way for the other people in the airport, heading to the parking lot. emily and andrew had invited you over to celebrate the fourth of july with them, as well as to meet your goddaughter, celeste. they invited the two of you to stay with them for a week as emily said that you two had a lot of catching up to do.

the drive from the airport to the emmons’ residence wasn’t that far, it only took the four of you about forty-five minutes. emily and andrew’s place was beautiful and cosy, perfect for the couple and the family they dreamed of building. your room for the week had a view of the lake, which you liked the most. emily had ezekiel for a few minutes as you unpack your stuff and prepare ezekiel’s swimming trunks.

“we can go boat riding in the next few days!” emily told ezekiel, “but for now, we can swim in the backyard and play with celeste. is that okay with you, zeke?”

ezekiel nodded his head, turning to you. “your swimming trunks are in the room. change first and go back to mama so i can put sunscreen on you, alright?”

“yes mama!”

ezekiel changed his clothes and had his sunscreen applied, excitedly joining andrew in the pool. you and emily were lounging with her 4-month-old daughter, celeste. the day passed by so quickly; it seems like ezekiel enjoyed his first day in florida as after dinner, instead of asking for his ipad to play and watch his favourite kids show, he asked if he could go to sleep. poor kid must’ve been exhausted running around the backyard with andrew. when you were certain that ezekiel was tucked and safe on the bed, you went back to the living room where the couple was waiting for you.

“little too early for wine, isn’t it?” you smiled, taking a seat across the couple. 

“it’s never too early for wine.” said emily, “plus, celeste is already asleep and hopefully, won’t wake up for the next three hours.”

the three of you were talking about life now that you were all parents now. unlike you, emily was fairly new to parenthood and she has someone by her side throughout the journey. were you jealous? maybe you were, a little. but you had a choice and your choice was to go through this alone anyway, so you immediately shut those thoughts off. 

unlike you, your best friend did everything by the book. she and andrew got married over a year ago, gave birth to their first child, and not long ago, they recently bought a home in a gated community which is why they moved from new york to florida. nevertheless, you were happy for emily. she deserved it after all.

as the three of you continued to converse, andrew had asked a question you weren’t expecting: “are you on good terms with ezekiel’s dad?” you understood why he had asked you that, he had no idea about your relationship with christian because the two of you met when he and emily started dating during their years in university, unlike emily who knew you since you were still in diapers. 

“babe, that’s not—”

“it’s okay, emily.” you said, “he and i have not spoken since i was pregnant with ezekiel. i have no idea what’s going on with his life now, but wherever he is, i just hope he’s doing well in his career.”

since you and christian broke up, you made sure not to see his name or hear anything about him at all. blocked him and muted his name and any word tied to his name including football and soccer. it wasn’t easy at first but you got used to it as the years passed by. you wonder what happened in his career now, was he still in dortmund? which part of europe was he living now? how was his career in the national team? 

the past five years, you’ve been avoiding christian and everything related to him, yet you go back to square one whenever someone asks you about him. you and christian only dated for a year, and your relationship was really private back then. only a handful of people knew about it. nobody knows outside of your family and emily that ezekiel’s father was christian. the people around you and your family thought that you were knocked up by some random guy you met in university. did it hurt? of course it did. having people see you as a careless young adult, have them judge you for being a parent at such a young age but that didn’t stop you from trying your best to be a good parent to ezekiel.

however, sooner or later, ezekiel would ask you about his father—it already happened one time, and you know it’s bound to happen again in the future. was it selfish to hide your child from his own father? yes, it was, but you couldn’t blame yourself for wanting to protect him. you were aware how cruel people could be, especially people who idolise christian. you could take the hate from them but the thought of your only child getting unnecessary hate from the people who don’t know the whole story simply breaks your heart and makes you anxious.

but, who knows what the future holds?

—

“andrew, y/n and i will go for a quick run!” emily announced to her husband. 

andrew appears in the kitchen, celeste was in his arms and trying to make the baby burp. “is it okay to leave ezekiel here? i mean, andrew’s already taking care of celeste.” you said, a bit worried that andrew couldn’t handle two kids. 

andrew chuckles, “i’ll be fine as soon as celeste falls asleep. me and mr. big boy here can play video games while she naps.” he answered, “now, you ladies go. we’ll be fine here.”

“are you sure, andrew?”

“y/n, andrew has babysat most of his nephews and nieces all at once, and he has 6 of them. i think he can handle an infant and a child.” emily laughs, “now, let’s go!”

“alright, alright!” you gave in, levelling with ezekiel’s eyes. “promise mama that you’ll be a good boy for uncle andrew?”

you extend out your pinky, and ezekiel wrapped his around yours, putting a smile on everyone’s faces. seconds after that, you and emily were out of the door and started running laps around the whole neighbourhood. it took you two an hour before you stopped by a local park, finding a shade to relax for a bit. the both of you were quiet, enjoying the sound of the trees as you relaxed. 

“i’m sorry about andrew’s question last night.” emily suddenly said, “you know, the one about he-who-must-not-be-named.”

you let out a chuckle and shook your head. “it’s okay, ems. it was just an innocent question.” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. “it’s really not the first time someone asked about him anyway.”

“what do you mean?”

“zeke. he asked about his dad during his first day of school, a few months back.” you answer, “he asked if he had a dad, if his dad hates us because he wasn’t present and… was it his fault why his dad’s not around.”

“oh my… y/n, i’m sorry.”

emily hugs you tightly, feeling a bit sad as zeke was too young to think about such things. you never told anyone about your conversation with your son that day until today, and it felt so good to finally get it out of your chest. 

“i feel so selfish to keep him away from christian, you know?” you open up, “but it was the only thing i could think of. ems, you know how well his career was going back then. i didn’t want him to sacrifice such a huge opportunity for me and ezekiel back then.”

at this point, you were tearing up. you couldn’t help it. you were always vulnerable when you talked about ezekiel and christian. back when you found out that you were pregnant, you made this decision to break up with christian and have the baby alone. back then it felt like you shot two birds with one stone, christian’s career being the one bird and the other is protecting your child from the public eye. 

you and emily stayed at the park for a few more minutes, just until you cried out and walked back home. maybe it was time, it’s been years after all and christian deserve to know the truth. the whole day passed, ezekiel enjoyed spending it with you and the emmons, taking you both on a boat ride which ezekiel loved the most. seeing your child’s smile from ear to ear warmed your heart, yet you felt guilty. since ezekiel was born, there was this guilt that was running through your heart; that nagging guilt saying that you were depriving both of them by taking away the chance to be in each other’s life. 

fuck it, i’m gonna do it. you thought to yourself in the middle of the night while staring at the ceiling.

christian thought his eyes were deceiving him the moment he saw the notification, his fingers immediately pressing on the message. usually, he would ignore message requests, but as he saw your name, he had flashbacks all of a sudden. it’s been five years, yet your name was still imprinted in his mind. five years of thinking where did he go wrong in your relationship, if there was something he did that made you end your relationship, and if it had something to do with his career. five years ago, his career was thriving and his love life came crashing. 

he remembered the night you broke up with him, it was when you flew to visit him during your winter break and it happened on a typical day. the two of you did the usual routine since you arrived, wake up together, eat together and after that, he went to training while you stayed at his place. by the time he arrived, you ate dinner together. he even offered to wash the dishes as you already cooked. life was perfect, or so he thought. 

“is there something bothering you?” he asked when he noticed the change of mood while you two lied in bed. “talk to me.”

“it’s just nothing.” 

normally, christian would ask you again–if you were okay, what was bothering you and all. but this time, he heard your tone that signified you weren’t really in the mood, so he let it go. the two of you cuddled up in bed, with you as the little spoon and listening to each other breathing. until you asked him a question.

“what do you think of kids, chris?”

“what do you mean what do i think of kids?”

“you know, what is your opinion about kids? about having and raising your own?”

christian chuckles, letting you turn around to face him. “well, i would like to have one, maybe two or three.” he answered, “but definitely not now. we’re still young, we have dreams to achieve. big dreams in our careers. what about you?”

there was a brief moment of silence before you spoke up, “yeah, same answer as you, i guess.”

he remembers changing the topic that night, he didn’t notice your lack of energy speaking to him–thinking that maybe you were just tired and weren’t in the mood to speak. the following day, same routine. only then, when he arrived home, you two got into an argument that eventually led to the end of your relationship.

hey, i can make time. we can meet tomorrow. after agreeing where you’ll meet, christian couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason behind it. will it be the closure he’s been longing for the past five years?

morning came and only a few hours left until you meet christian. you let emily know about your plan, agreeing to watch ezekiel and let you borrow her car to drive to the park where you and christian agreed to meet. to say that you were nervous was an understatement of what you’re feeling. you still wonder what his reaction would be and how he would take such a huge news you were about to drop. 

the time left passed by so quickly. you kissed your son goodbye and drove to carlin park. when you arrived, you were stunned by the number of people. surely, you didn’t want to tell your baby daddy that you were pregnant with his child in front of hundreds of people, especially since he was a known athlete. anxiety pools all over you again, taking deep breaths before getting out of the car and head to the agreed place. 

“christian?” you called, walking towards him. he turned around and smiled at you. you haven’t seen this man in years. he has changed so much, he looked like a stranger you know too well. his beard was fully grown, it looked good on him. his left arm was filled with tattoos. looking at christian now, you could see what ezekiel would look like in the future; after all, he was the spitting image of his father.

“it’s nice to see you again, y/n.” he said, “shall we go for a walk at the beach or do you want to sit down?”

“we could go for a walk.”

you could hear your heart thumping at this point as you walked alongside christian. 

“it's been five years, y/n. how have you been?” he asked.

you took a deep breath, “well, i graduated. i also work now, so i guess i’m fine.” you answer, not sure if it was the answer he wanted to hear. “and i apologise for asking to meet up last minute. if i ever clashed with a schedule of yours.”

“it’s okay, i still have a few days before i leave for milan anyway.” he answered, “why did you want to meet all of a sudden? and i’m a bit shocked that you know where i stay now.”

this is it, y/n. you cannot fuck this up. “actually, i didn’t know that you lived around the area. i blocked you in every social media i have, muted your name and tried my best to avoid seeing your name. just last night, i found out that you live here now. the internet’s a scary place, you know?�� you said, “but, aside from that, i do have something to tell you. something big and important.”

christian chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh, okay. what is it?”

“do you remember the night we broke up?”

“can’t really forget about it.” he replied, “why?”

“the night before i asked you what you think about having kids, and you said you’d like to have one but you said we still had dreams to achieve, right?” he nodded, “well, that day i actually found out that i…i was pregnant. 5 weeks back then.”

christian stopped his tracks and when you looked back at him, his face dropped and his eyebrows were furrowed. confusion was spread all over his face.

“i–i didn’t ask to meet you because i need some sort of financial support for the kid or whatever, i just wanted to let you know.” you said, biting your lip as he stayed silent. “if you want to do some paternity tests, i would gladly let you.”

“no, no. i uh, believe you.” he replied, “is the baby…?”

“he’s four and has the same birthday as you, chris. he’s doing well in preschool, and uh…” you paused, pulling out your phone from your pocket and opened a picture of ezekiel to show him. “this is him. his name’s ezekiel mate. he’s your mini me.”

“mate?”

“yeah, well… at first i wanted to give him your last name but i thought it’ll stir controversy so i opted to give him your middle name.” you confessed, passing him your phone. “i hope that doesn’t bother you, christian but i understand if it does. and really, i apologise for telling you this so late.”

christian looked at ezekiel’s picture, examining his facial features that reminded you of him. ezekiel looked like him when he was still a kid, he could see some of your features there as well and there is no doubt that this wasn’t his kid. the pulisic genes were strong and evident. 

the two of you continued to walk along the beach, christian was asking you questions about ezekiel until you two stopped in the part of the beach where there were less people. you were both staring at the horizon, it was then when christian asks you the question you’ve been avoiding. 

“did you… did you plan on telling me about him even before today?” 

“...yes” you breathed, “i–i was supposed to tell you, christian. i really wanted to, but you were just… you had a huge opportunity to showcase yourself in europe. i didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“why?”

“because i know how demanding your job could be. it was already demanding when we were together, it ate a lot of our time together. a part of me thought that maybe a child would be a huge inconvenience to your career.”

all the small milestones that ezekiel achieved, christian had missed out and you wouldn’t blame christian if he chooses to be mad or hate you for hiding his child from him. he had every right to do so after missing five years of his son’s life.

“why didn’t you reach out to me, to my family at least?”

“i was afraid, okay? i was young, we were young. i was figuring out who i wanted to be and obviously, being a young mother was something i did not expect that i’ll be.” you said, on the verge of tears.

“and so, was it okay for you? to be a young, single mom?” he fought back, “y/n, if you had told me before, you know i would do everything. i would’ve quit—”

“and that’s exactly why i didn’t tell you. i changed who i was to put you both first, christian. i wanted you to succeed, you had dreams. at the same time, i wanted a normal life for ezekiel.” you said, tears cascading out of your eyes. “you were achieving your lifelong dreams, christian. i didn’t want to interfere with that. i didn’t want you and your parents’ hard work to be cut short because of me, because of ezekiel.”

christian then realised the things you had gone through raising ezekiel alone. his heart broke when he heard the things people around you told you when your bump started showing. it hurts him to think that you’ve gone through it all alone–all the heartbreaking things people around you told you. even before, when you were still together, it was one of the things that he admired about you. you were a strong and resilient woman.

“can i… can i meet him?” 

that caught you off guard, “sure, i guess. when do you want to meet him?”

“tonight, if it’s okay with you?”

you nodded your head, a bit unsure how ezekiel would react. normally, he is shy when meeting new people. but this wasn’t any other person, this was his father. so when christian walked you back to the car and made sure you were inside, you dialled emily’s number.

“how’d it go?” was the first thing she said upon answering the call while you started the engine of the car.

“it went well, surprisingly.” you answered, “one little problem though.”

“what?”

“he uh, he wants to meet him. tonight.” you said, biting your lip. “would it be okay if christian came over at your place?”

“are you crazy? it’s more than okay! plus, it’s much safer and private here instead of going out. lots of people know him, you know?” 

you sighed, “i’m nervous, ems. i don’t know how zeke will react, i don’t even know what i’ll say to him.”

“zeke is a wonderful kid, i’m sure he will be okay when you tell him the truth.” emily reassures, “look, me and andrew will just be here to support you. no matter how it goes, alright?”

“thank you, ems. literally for everything.”

emily giggles on the other end, “hey, that’s what friends are for, silly!” she joked, “okay, now i’m gonna end this call to go get dinner ready. you get home safely!”

“dinner?”

“duh, christian pulisic is coming to my place and i’m not gonna serve him anything? i’m a very hospitable person, of course, i’ll make him something good.”

—

two hours of prepping dinner with the couple, christian rings the doorbell. emily whispered to you good luck as she and andrew stayed in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the food you all made while you head to the front door. you took a few breaths before opening the door for him. dressed in a simple button down with a shirt inside and a pair of shorts, holding a bouquet of flowers.

your heart skipped a beat. 

“hi,” he smiled, “these are for you.”

you make way for christian to enter the foyer, taking the flowers from his hands. “thank you, they’re pretty.” you compliment, “this is uh… emily and her husband’s place, by the way. we’re just visiting.”

just in time, emily and andrew entered the scene. “you remember emily, right?” you asked and he nodded.

“it’s been a while, christian.” emily smiled and introduced andrew to him. “dinner will be ready in a few. me and andrew are just in the kitchen if you need us.”

you led christian to the den, leaving him there as you went to get ezekiel. christian was nervous, just like you. he doesn’t know anything about parenting, or how to be a dad in general. he depended on such little information you told him about your son. everything was happening too fast, all he knows is that today was such a crazy day. one minute he finds out he has a son, the other he’s meeting him. he hasn’t even told his family about this information!

“zekey, could you promise to be good for mama?” you asked your son which christian heard, “remember when you asked mama if you had a papa?”

“yes, mama. you told me i had one but papa is just busy that’s why we haven’t seen him.” that broke christian’s heart.

“well, papa is here now.”

seeing ezekiel mate in person was a different feeling than seeing him on your phone earlier today. usually, when meeting new people, ezekiel would hide behind you and stay there until he feels comfortable. but this time, he didn’t. instead, he ran towards christian and gave him a hug.

“hello, papa.”

you bit your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from being emotional as you watch christian and ezekiel meet for the first time. 

“hello, ezekiel.” christian smiled, “i’m sorry, papa is so busy. but i’m here now.”

you’ve never seen ezekiel conversate with everybody else this way. he was engaging with every single question that christian asks him, telling him the little details about his life. god, why did you wait so long for these two to meet?

as the father and son get to know each other, you head to the kitchen to continue helping emily and andrew. emily was smiling at you when she saw you enter.

“i told you it’s gonna go well.” she said, “now that zekey and christian have met, what’s up with you and him?”

“what do you mean?”

“the flowers. maybe the two of you could reignite the spark you once had?”

you shook your head, continuing to mash the potatoes to serve later. “it’s not… it’s nothing like that. i doubt anything would happen between us, i mean, he’s probably dating someone.”

“really? you don’t see the two of you dating again?” andrew asked, and you shook your head again. “aww, i was almost excited to be friends with a star player. like, imagine the two of us barbecuing in the backyard?”

“babe, i think you’re man-crushing christian.” emily laughed. “but in all seriousness, y/n. no?”

“nope.” you replied, “like i said, he’s probably dating someone. plus it seems like we both moved on, we put the “us” in the past and i think it’ll stay that way.”

“what about zeke?”

you sighed, “we can co-parent, i guess. if he wants to, of course. i’m not going to force him into something he doesn’t want, at the end of the day, i still want what’s best for zeke and him.” you explained, “if he doesn’t want to co-parent, then that’s totally fine. i’ve raised zeke, i’m sure i can handle it.”

“really?”

“look,” you snapped, “i’m sorry guys, i love you both but… i just have a lot of things in my mind right now. it’s been a long day, can’t we just put the questions aside and just get through dinner?”

the couple nodded their heads. they understood where you were coming from, it wasn’t an easy decision for you to let ezekiel and his father meet, plus it all happened so fast and they were blabbing about the possibilities that could happen in the future. you left the two shortly after you helped them prepare the dining table, heading straight to where you left ezekiel and christian. 

ezekiel was in between christian’s legs, focused on his father’s phone as he showed him a compilation of his goals uploaded on youtube. when your son acknowledges your presence, he has the biggest smile on his face.

“mama, i want to play football like papa!”

you chuckle, taking a seat next to them. “well, i guess we could give it a try. but for now, let’s go eat dinner.” you tell your son, and he nodded his head, removing himself from christian’s grasp and ran out of the room, leaving you and his father alone. “so uh, just let me know if you’re uncomfortable during dinner. i can—”

“no, no, no. it’s okay.” christian said, “i, uh… about ezekiel—”

“we can talk about it after dinner.” you said, giving him a small smile as you walked to the dining. 

ezekiel was sandwiched between you and christian. the four adults exchanged stories, andrew expressing his shock upon finding out that the father of ezekiel is a star player for the national team. ezekiel adjusted with christian faster than you expected, knowing your son, it would usually take him a few more interactions before he started to talk to them completely but he was really comfortable with him. christian was his father after all.

after dinner, christian thanked the hosts of the house. he even offered to put ezekiel to bed, but the kid had too much energy left in his body and couldn’t sleep yet. he bid his goodbye to ezekiel, promising that they’ll meet and bond again soon which made ezekiel a bit sad, yet happy. when everything was already sorted out, you walked christian back to his car.

“today was… i don’t know, crazy and fun.” he admits, stopping next to his car. “it was a lot to process but i think i’m okay. more than okay with ezekiel, he’s… he’s a good kid and you’ve done so much for him. i’ve never met a kid so clever like him at a young age.”

you smile, you didn’t really expect his compliment and it made you shy. “thank you. i have to say, the people around him influenced him a lot.” you replied.

silence once again surrounded the two of you, you were both waiting for someone to speak–bring up the topic of co-parenting. you didn’t want to be the first one to ask him because it would feel like you were pressuring christian, and christian didn’t want to be the first one to ask you because he knew it would be such a huge adjustment for you and ezekiel.

“y/n” christian called.

you look up to him, staring directly into his honey brown eyes. again, no one was talking. just the sound of the wind and a broken street light not far from where you were standing. the space between you and christian was getting smaller and smaller, his hands gently making their way to your jaw. and the next thing you know, your lips were connected. feeling his lips on yours made your heart beat faster, butterflies in your stomach were getting crazier. 

you pulled away, holding his wrist. his forehead and nose on yours as you both catched your breath and closed your eyes. christian felt tears on his cheeks, causing him to open his eyes. 

“i can’t… we can’t–” you said, pulling away from him.

“y/n–”

“i’m sorry, chris.” 

you ran back inside the house, leaving christian alone in the driveway and he stood there frozen as he tried to process what had happened. did he move too fast? were you overwhelmed by his actions? questions ran through the player’s mind. maybe he did move too fast, and maybe you were scared that history may repeat itself. but this time, christian wanted to let you know that it wouldn’t, that he would do his best to conquer everything. christian was determined to have you again, because this time it isn’t only you he’s fighting for. 

he was fighting for you and ezekiel.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Cowboy Like Me | TEASER | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

SYNOPSIS How can falling in love with someone feel so right? How could it ever be wrong?

Pairing: Lee Know x fem!reader Genre: Hollywood au, non modern au, angst, smut Warnings: explicit sexual content, playboy agenda, heavy drinking, mentions of drugs, slight age gap, virgin reader, toxic relationship dynamics, may contain inaccurate depictions of the time period, slight descriptions/mentions of infidelity, some misogynistic dialogue (& more to come) Release Date: TBA

It’s no secret that Lee Minho is one of the most sought after dreamboats to ever grace the silver screens of Hollywood.

Rumored to have torrid affairs with only the most dazzling starlets, it’s no secret that he’s popular amongst the ladies either. Unfortunately, after Minho is caught in the middle of a sordid scandal with a noteworthy director’s wife, he journeys away from home to escape the damaging media circus swarming him.

Taking refuge in the small sound production studio in which he was first discovered as a star, Minho reconnects with his old passion for music, and in doing so, stumbles upon a fledgling singer who turns his life upside down. You and Minho are worlds apart; while you’re a sweet, up and coming artist, Minho is an infamous lothario disillusioned by fame.

He knows he should leave you alone, stay away from you. He knows he should refrain from dragging you into his unfortunate spotlight, from making his demons yours. He knows the way his pulse quickens around you is wrong, and that loving you is the last thing he should be doing. Minho also knows that he’s failing in his efforts to quell his feelings for you, slowly surrendering his heart to you.

But it’s not just the world around him that is a caveat to his romance with you. Minho has never truly given or received love, limiting his amorous endeavors to a single night or the ones fabricated by movie scripts. You deserve better than him— a strong, kind man who isn’t afraid to love you, to devote himself to you, to show you off to the world, paparazzi and tabloids cast aside. Pursuing you would not only jeopardize Minho’s own tenuous reputation, but your future as well. It means disaster, a tragedy instead of romance. But how could he not, when this is the most authentic he’s ever felt, after a lifetime of playing other characters?

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

TAGLIST @ajxreads @chizumiyoshi @jetblackbelle @yeahhspider @army-stay-noel @143hyunes @httphans @ave-221 @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @chillseo @ultimatestayandminoronce @moasworld @boomfrogg

If you would like to join my taglist, please fill out this form!

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[eliotquillon]

drabble request: re: time loop story: what convoluted or not reasoning led cameron to calling chase specifically for a hook up (and not going to a bar. or shooting her shot with foreman lol)

disclaimer: i have not done meth (shocking!) and therefore this is probably an inaccurate description of what being on meth is like. but you know.

The drugs kick in fast; it supports that lab’s analysis that Kalvin is the rare meth user who actually has pure product, because one minute Cameron is sitting placidly on her bed waiting for something to kick in and trying not to think about how fucking irresponsible this whole thing is, and the next her heart is racing, fingertips tingling as her thoughts race a mile a minute. It’s weird. Weird-fun, she decides, bouncing up on her tiptoes with a smile that makes her jaw ache—things feel fast and hectic and for the first time in over a day it’s like the outside world is finally reflecting what it feels like to be in her head. “Drugs are bad,” she tells her reflection sternly, but the woman in the mirror is laughing and frantic, her pupils blown wide, and Cameron is pleased. Bad, bad decision, she thinks, wagging a finger at the mirror. Bad dog. She laughs again, and it’s a full-body movement. This is what it must feel like to be Kalvin all the time. No regrets. No future. Just present-present-present and fun-fun-fun.

She should go out, she decides. Hasn’t it been forever since she went to a bar on her own? Since she went out for a drink without having to listen to Foreman whine about House and Chase try to flirt with the bartender? The corner of her mouth pulls down into an exaggerated frown. Boring. She should go out, and wear something short, and curl her hair—or straighten it, or maybe bleach? There’s blonde dye in her bathroom cabinet, a failsafe from when she first started dyeing her hair brown and wasn’t sure if she’d like it; Cameron likes to have a back-up plan. Not tonight, though. Tonight, she’s going to go out and have fun and she isn’t going to think about anything else. She sets her curling iron out on the sink, and leaves it to heat up while she hunts for clothes.

Her wardrobe is sad. “Bad dog,” she tells it, when one-two-three straight minutes of rifling through its contents yield nothing short and nothing exciting. Maybe she’ll just go out in her pyjamas, and buy something on the way. Department stores are open til this time of night, right? She never really shops for herself these days. Everything she owns is professional and strait-laced and dull. Cameron is professional and strait-laced and dull. No wonder Foreman hates being around her so much. Buzzkill. This Cameron hates being around that Cameron, too.

She goes back to the bathroom to start curling her hair, but she burns her neck with the curling wand on the second strand. The pain is white-hot and sour, cutting right through all the fun-buzzy-bubbly feelings but not in a bad way. The mark on her neck looks a bit like a hickey. Cameron has never had a hickey before; she always thought they were gauche and embarrassing, would always pulls boys away from her neck very pointedly when she thought they were getting too bold about things in high school. But tonight is meant to be fun. Tonight is meant to be full of new experiences, and feelings. She wants a hickey. The thought fills her with more bubbly-fun excitement, no fear or mortification, and she scrambles to put on music while she hunts through her cell phone.

Cameron sorts through her contacts alphabetically—not that there’s many; she doesn’t really talk to anyone from college or med school anymore—and selects the first man’s name she finds: R CHASE.

She hits dial.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 1]

Much more recently written fanfic I started to distract myself from the "mild" trauma of Season 2 finale based on ideas that wouldn't work for "Rough Stuff". This fic is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons. Clones deserved so much better, and I will be a giant mess when I get to Pong Krell in TWC as I have since started rewatching it.

Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+, 18 if you squint. Hurt+comfort material primarily; there is still a fair amount of angst, fluff, and all the good stuff. Reader has she/her pronouns. We really like italics in this house. Peep this for funsies for why I decide to use Mando'a. By no means comprehensive, in no particular order there will be: Mild injury description + care, blood, vague medical terminology (read as: pretending to understand medical stuff), use of restraints, needles (autoinjectors), near-death(s), nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit, Star Wars swearing, drugs (both medical and recreational references), minor adult themes + implications, avoidant behaviors, trickery and light mean teasing in the forms of siblings and crushes. 

Series-inaccurate allusions to Crosshair never leaving Bad Batch post Order 66 execution [because while this is an AU fic, I am also very much an Avoidant Mess™], Batchers never meet Cid, fair chance of misremembering any referenced events from TCW series. Series accurate allusions and references to canon violence (AKA: literal war crimes, weapon injuries, etcetera).  

Word-count: 4,637

She couldn't remember the last time she had a really, really bad day outside of her medical clinic. There was a tip-off that an abandoned medical center on a neighboring mining planet within the system had supplies too tantalizing to ignore. Valuable paraphernalia that was being phased out by this emerging Empire, ripe for the taking. Did the mining company really have to build this settlement on the steepest face of the mountain? No, they probably didn't realize how unstable, unsafe and ultimately unsuitable this location was while they riddled the inside of the mountain with tunnels as they harvested precious ore and minerals. This was a boomtown and it had completed two of the three strikes typical of such: strike it rich, strike it fast, strike it down. The people living and working here had to abandon it in a hurry before they demoed the place. This mining company hadn't done their proper research and now the shells of their temporary structures were all that remained. 

But a scrappy little scavenger had found the medical center was still fairly flush with supplies and let the first medic who was willing to help them with their injuries know about the score. 'It'll be dangerous. If you're going, tell a friend so they know to come looking for you if you don't get back after a certain time. But these items are pre-Empire, they aren't making them like that anymore, so you'll want these. Trust me. I think you'll find them worth the risk of a rock slide or two.' 

It. Was. Not. Not really, anyways.

She was just glad to be home now. Put the day behind her. No more rock slides. No more rusted shells of buildings that made for excellent deathtraps. No more falling halfway down the mountain she climbed up in the descent to her ship in the foothills and losing almost every last med supply she came with after slipping on a patch of loose, fine-grain sand just after navigating the maze of the medical center. She had to hobble down the rest of the mountain with nothing to clean out the open wounds and prayed to everything and anything that she didn't contract something that had leached into the rock as the by-products of mining and refinery. She had to stumble into her ship and send a message to her back-up at home that she was 'hurt pretty kriffing bad' but alive and would be back planet-side after dinner; don't wait up for me, I'm too damn tired to swing by after all. Tell the others I'm sorry.

Her instructors in med school would be having a conniption if they saw the way she had tended her wounds so lazily and would never let her hear the end of it for the juvenile, sloppy attempt to bandage the laceration on her dominant arm, but she was too tired to care. (But if she ever saw that scavenger again, she'd kill them for failing to mention several things. The collapsing roof in the west stock room, for starters.) She'd deal with it all properly in the morning. She just wanted to sleep after sucking down two tubes of nutrient paste and a mixed handful of painkillers and antibiotics to ward away pain and infection.

She picked up her datapad one last time and hissed a deliberate dictation into the mic after tugging the knot to the wrapping one last time for good measure. "I'll deal with that bantha fodder in the morning… Home safe. Going to bed. Goodnight." 

She'd accidentally sent it to the wider group beyond the singular contact when five messages popped up in short succession. 

Glad you're home safe. Sleep well, kid. 

likewise

GOODNIGHT!:)

Yes, goodnight. 

We'll see you in the morning, burc'ya. 

Hopefully she'd feel well-rested with the sunrise. Crawling into her bed, she dropped heavily on her side and clutched a well worn Tooka doll in her favorite colors named after her very first childhood pet to her chest as she drew the covers up over her shoulders. Maker, she was so tired. It wouldn't take long before sleep came for her, feeling the first beckoning pulls on her eyelids after just a few moments. 

Her comms gave a harsh screech, jolting her awake in her bed. Just when she had drifted off… This better be important. An actual karking emergency. Someone who had her personal frequency had better be dying if they were contacting her. "What."

There was a lot of shuffling and keypad beeping on the other end of the comms channel, but no one spoke right away. Just when she was about to either call out a hello? or simply disconnect her comlink, she heard someone speak up. Clone Sergeant Hunter. "Tech is this really necessary to keep the-"

"If we want an accurate oral temperature, yes." 

There was a groan over the channel, then the sharp rustle as the comms got bumped or adjusted in Hunter's hand. "Well the longer I have it in my mouth the closer I feel to gaggin-"

She shot upright in her bunk, slightly grossed out and confused all at once. "What the kriff are you-!?"

The two Clones on the other end of the comlink gave their own startled shouts, realizing they had a disembodied voice suddenly joining their company. "[____]! How-?" 

She was quick to cut Tech off, pulling the comlink closer to her face to amplify her furious tone of voice. "Did one of you seriously call me - in the middle of a medical check - when I'm trying to sleep!" 

"Sorry, [____]." Hunter mumbled shamefully. "Must have switched on my comlink by mistake… Didn't mean to disturb you when I know you've had a hard day." What an understatement, Hunter. The impulsive venom in her mouth was hard to hold back, encouraged by her frustrations and discomforts bubbling over. "Hard day made harder thanks to you." She regretted it in a heartbeat. Thank the Maker the enhanced Clone wasn't in the room with her; he'd probably have been able to hear the way it skipped a beat if he was able to sense the beginnings of seismic activity, smell the way she felt her body begin to shiver in a forming, cold stress-sweat as the shame of her anger washed over her. 

"You're right: let me make it up to you." 

She was told to come over to the Batch's housing. Crosshair opened the blastdoor for her before she even had a chance to knock to avoid waking anyone sleeping if she used the buzzer. "He'll be in the main area."

"What, no "Hello, taking care of yourself like I told you to?" tonight, Cross? Even as a joke, after the day I've been having, to lighten the mood?" 

There was a half-hearted scoff (or maybe that was a soft laugh) from the Clone at this."That's more Wrecker's thing," Cross drawled in a casual voice around a toothpick, sidestepping to let her squeeze inside, "and I'm not really interested in pretending I can't see that you are not taking care of yourself."

"No, of course not Mr. Sharp-eyed, Snarky Sniper. 'Cause I fall down the mountains of abandoned mining settlements for kriffing fun." 

If Cross was phased by the uncharacteristic anger of the medic tonight, he didn't really show it. Just a little twitching pull of his upper lip on one side and half-lidded eyes that betrayed a bit of amusement and disappointment. "Mmp. C'mon, kid. I'll see if I can't find a half-decent ration bar somewhere around here for you." 

"Not hungry, Cr-"

"Don't care." He interrupted in a brusque tone, not giving her the opportunity for excuses. Crosshair was the kinda guy who didn't like excuses, either in giving or getting, and could be quick to shut that kriff down. It was refreshing sometimes, but tonight it was just another mild annoyance of [____]'s day. 

Whatever. She was going to go find Hunter where Cross said he'd be rather than waiting around in the entryway forever. "Skipping meals again, are we burc'ya?" As a medic, she often missed out on a meal or two while she was aiding the galaxy's sick and injured, and the unintentional habit carried over when she wasn't at the clinic. Something that made her friends fret over her like this. "For once I had all three meals. Only thing I swear went right today…" There was a pause as the medic heard a comment from the small kitchen on the left from the common room and she added with a gentle sigh, "aside from not breaking any bones during that nasty fall, too I guess." 

Hunter looked relieved and genuinely proud of her, sincerely surprised she wasn't tired and hungry like many nights in the past. Crosshair just turned on his heel back into the kitchen unit without breaking his stride, after a little shuffling around in the cabinets [____] could hear the sink running. "Well that's… good! Proud of you, kid." 

"...Than-"

Cross set the glass of water he'd filled for her in lieu of the ration bar down on a low table in the common room in the middle of the light conversation she was having with Hunter. "Here. I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."

"U-um, thanks, Cross. Goodnight…" Cross nodded nonchalantly at her, next turning to his brother, who was quick to avoid his eyes before Crosshair just turned and left the two of them. Leave you two to it, what did he mean by that that had Hunter looking so nervous with a wave of color creeping up his neck from under the collar of a fresh nightshirt? "What's going on, Hunter? Do I need to be worried about something? Something show up on the health check? Do you need some nysillin tea or- s-something?" 

Hunter shook his head, a tender, reassuring (and touched) smile slowly building. You could take the doctor out of the clinic, but you couldn't stop her from thinking about her job. "Nothing's wrong, k'uur... Just thought I was feeling a little under the weather, but I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing more than just making it up to you after waking you. Plus, for once, you won't have to patch your own wounds. Why not have someone take care of you the same way you take care of others?" It was the same thing he'd said to her at the end of their first of many interactions in this seedy little travel-hub. The time she'd undoubtedly saved Crosshair's life after he'd picked up a nasty little parasite while slogging through the swamps of some distant planet. Kashyyyk? It was probably Kashyyyk. 

[____] was in a sour arrangement then with some smugglers with hair-trigger tempers to come and go as they pleased with her small clinic, and these Clones had been kind to remove the problem clientele "with discretion" as a way of paying her back. She'd saved their "stubborn vod". They saved her and now trusted her to treat their injuries no matter the cause, turning up at odd hours for the oddest of injury or malady. Complete faith in her in a hostile galaxy who now wanted… whatever it is they wanted with these Clones. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know. 

She'd heard the stories from those who fled the war encroaching nearly every part of the galaxy. She'd heard of the war crimes, seen the horror and gore and bloodshed step into at least two of the medical centers she once worked in… known of an Order 66 and what became of much, if not all, of the Jedi… She didn't want to know. They often didn't want to tell, beyond giving vague recollections when they were making arrangements for short-term prescriptions for sleeping supplements with the medic when the nightmares were overwhelming. 

Much like scouting the abandoned medical facility in an old mining boomtown for various 'sillin supplies, life seldom goes the way you wish. 

"C'mere, ad'ika. Let's get you patched up." He patted the space beside him on the couch in invitation, pulling a medkit closer with the other hand all while looking at her with the same softness he often reserved for his sister. When [____] first met him, she could have sworn Omega was his daughter. "Unless you're not okay with that." Hunter added, addressing her hesitation he could hear in the rhythm of her pulse, her heart. 

"I'm fine with it… just really tired and brain's kinda closing shop for the night. Sorry." Taking the seat indicated, [____] sunk back into the furniture, sighing. She didn't want to bring up why she was hesitating on him. He carried enough guilt as a participant in the old GAR… Hunter broke the seal on the new packet of medical tools, prepping everything he thought he'd need. "Don't be, ad'ika. Now, have you taken something for the pain already?" 

"Rhetorical question for a medic, don't you think?" The tired, teasing question was met with a single chuckle. He knew she would have, he was just making small talk. "Anything else? Ask me if I'm taking any other kind of stim packs, or maybe I should lie about eating all my recommended fruits and vegetables?" It was a laugh from Hunter this time, deep and hearty and genuine from his chest. 

"Are you?" Picking up a pre-moistened cleaning wipe from the little packet within the medkit, Hunter removed the sloppy wrappings around her dominant arm that [____] had applied before trying to call it a day and properly deal with everything in the morning. Dried smears of red lay underneath the gauze, something that made Hunter's gut drop slightly. Either she had done an uncharacteristically poor job cleaning her injuries, or these were more intensive than believed and they were slow-bleeders that hadn't scabbed over completely. 

"Tck…Can't say I'm any better than most of my patients, if I'm honest." Hunter hummed slightly, gingerly blotting along the length of the mild laceration. It had to have been an unpleasant injury after losing all her emergency supplies and nothing to ease it right away until she stumbled back to her ship. It looked fairly deep to him, but couldn't be certain. "Mmh! That stings." 

"'It's supposed to, little guy. Means it's working.' I swear Cross could have killed you with a look if the parasite wasn't actively killing him over being called a little guy like he was a kid." 

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Tech." [____] half-heartedly mocked Hunter's sharp recollection of their first encounter, trying to stifle a coming yawn. That time felt so long ago now; longer than it actually was. "I was only trying to keep him calm and comfortable. I see a lot of children at my clinic so it's a habit I've de-developed… excuse me, sorry about that. People… don't exactly love doctors." 

Hunter paused mid-blot, giving her a firm look to show her he was serious. Something in Hunter didn't like the way she'd said it, it didn't sit right with him. "Nonsense, cyar'ika. People love doctors; they just don't love going to them. Big difference. Trust me." Trust me like I trust you he wanted to say. He wouldn't. He believed it was mutually understood, no need for explicitly stating so (partly an old habit in thanks to how he communicated with many a vod during the war). "People…" Hunter tried further explaining, leaving out the "like us" he again believed didn't need to be said "...might be embarrassed, or fearful, or worried about going to the medic, but they understand they need to go because the medics will be able to make them better. They don't hate the doctor; they hate the doctor's office…" Hunter paused, digesting his own words with a questioning expression as he set aside the pre-moistened wipe, now soiled. "Now of course I think I just sound like I'm condescendingly explaining your own job to you." 

"Heh. Don't worry about it. Too tired to care," the weary medic offered with a reassuring smile, leaning into the backrest of the couch with a slowing blink-rate. "I'm just more concerned about staying awake, while I'm the patient for once, for you." 

For you. Something about it was unintentionally sweet to Hunter and made something within him flutter for a moment. That was happening a lot lately, every time he thought of her. He kept chalking it up to his enhancements and memories of the Kaminoans testing him and the others that remained of the experimental unit, the sharp sterility of antiseptic that lingered in her clinic and her clothing and her hair that sometimes turned his stomach, or simply a disconnected unfamiliarity with those who were not Clones… though, while perhaps he never felt truly connected with them and the way some called them the 'Sad Batch' (or called Omega a lab scabber) when they thought they could get away with it, they had still been his brothers in arms in the war.

A war they were still running from. One they nearly lost Crosshair to after 'things went screwy on Kaller' as Wrecker put it once. What an understatement… if Hunter hadn't been so insistent with the Shock Troopers down in the brig that the Batch stayed together to the point that they tased Hunter to shut him up instead of extracting Cross, then Crosshair likely would have been siphoned off to some corner of Tipoca City and had the activation of his inhibitor chip nudged along into unpleasant possibilities Hunter had nightmares about in addition to so many things he'd seen… done, during the Clone Wars. It'd been difficult, and he'd hated part of himself for it, but as they made their initial escape from Kamino, he threatened to stun Crosshair if he didn't kriffing shut up about following orders they didn't even understand for five minutes! so hard he wouldn't wake up until they reached the next star system. 

There had been so much bickering. They still bickered even after Captain Rex got in touch with them, somehow, after they left Saleucami visiting the Lawquane family (which had been tricky and Tech worked the loophole that Crosshair could not report Cut for desertion because it had been the GAR when he went AWOL and now it no longer existed, it was the Empire now, right? half to death before Crosshair reluctantly let it be), and they got their chips removed in the rusted out shell of a Venator on Bracca and had been lured into a trap set by Tarkin back on Kamino. Because if Tarkin could not have this SpecOps force, nobody in the galaxy could; he'd aimed to wipe them out and they'd narrowly avoided being swallowed in the eternal seas of the closest thing they had to a homeworld. 

It took a long time for the bickering to stop. They were at their throats for a while still until… Crosshair had gotten really, really sick. 

That's what led to this friendship with a medic who had been willing to help them nearly a year ago. Though lately, it was feeling… different.

"Hey…" [____] broke the building silence while Hunter had been searching for a bacta patch, and Hunter initially worried he'd done something to tip her off to the personal burdens, the memories, he shouldered. "...weird question for ya, if that's okay." 

"How weird?" Hunter tried, careful not to let the hesitancy and budding anxieties show in his voice. There's the karking things. He'd probably need a couple of them to make sure he had it covered so it would heal up nicely, quickly.

"Oh, not very. I just wanna pick your brain a bit." 

Ah. Just curiosity. He affixed the first patch over the first half of the laceration, careful not to prod the bruised flesh with unnecessary pressure. "Alright, pick away." 

"What is… your favorite memory? When you're having a bad day… what's the thing you think about that always cheers you up?"

"Heh… your day was really that bad that you're looking for advice from a soldier, doc?" Hunter teased, applying a second patch over the laceration. He wasn't sure what he could truthfully answer with while he was carefully measuring out a length of sterile gauze to hold the patches in place on her dominant arm, there being too many little, fleeting happy moments rather than significant memories to spin some story from. But he'd try. "I guess for me… it's less what I think of and more of what I do after a bad mission. Clean my gear. Tidy up my rack. Buff out my helmet-" 

The medic smirked, a solitary, quiet laugh interrupting Hunter's train of thought. 

Oh, Maker… he'd forgotten the suggestive context behind the phrase she often heard in the infancy of her profession in the midst of the Clone Wars. He'd heard she'd get the stray Clone on occasion at the large health center she was employed at once on a different planet but didn't know how much truth there was to it. "K'uur: that was not a euphemism." 

That was met with a nervous giggle that made his stomach flutter. "S-sorry; old habits, and a non-professional setting where I can actually laugh." [____] offered meekly, face flushing with color while he wound the wrapping around her forearm. "C-continue, Hunter, please. 'Buff out your helmet' and...?" The unspoken what else on her tongue was permission enough to show she was serious about him continuing. 

"And… check in with the others, I suppose. Make sure that everyone is okay. Spend time with them. Strengthen personal bonds."

A lot like what the two of them were doing now, he supposed. The unintentional check in. Taking care of her injuries while they sat side by side in the common room as the rest of the Batch were sleeping. Except maybe for Tech who often tinkered away on his datapad or the desk he'd squeezed into the room he shared with Wrecker (who wasn't bothered by a roommate with a propensity to dink around with some little gadget or piece of equipment when he was sleeping or resting) at these hours. Or Crosshair, who was often awake and asleep around the same times Hunter was, since they'd have muffled "conversations" through the walls when neither could sleep on occasion. But all was relatively still and quiet in each of his brother's rooms, and the steady rumble of the noise machine in Omega's room meant his sister was asleep. 

Drumming rain and swirling waves. The perpetual ambiance of Kamino. He hoped the little machine replicating the soundscape engrained in her memories wouldn't cause her to dream of the Venator class ships bombing the cloning facilities tonight… 

While Hunter had been lost in his senses, his worries, the medic had been busy mulling over his words. There was a ghost of a smile taking the place of the pained frown she previously bore. "That all sounds… really nice."

The last injury tended to, Hunter set everything aside and gave [____]'s shoulder a tender double-pat, feeling the tense muscles under his hand as he held his hand there after the friendly gesture. "There you go, ad'ika. All patched up." 

"Thanks, appreciate the help Hunter. Could I… trouble you a little further by crashing here for the night? I don't think I'm in a fit state to get back home around now. Far, far too tired." It was definitely not a safe time for a woman to be walking by herself without a blaster, nevermind a tired, injured woman who'd been an invaluable friend to Clone Force 99. He'd never have sent her home to begin with, giving how deeply her chin dipped into her chest with fatigue. "No trouble at all; you're welcome to take my bed, if you want." Hunter offered, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze. He'd sleep out here in the common room so none of his brothers would get any funny ideas if both he and the medic emerged from the smallest of all the bedrooms in the housing together. 

Why the Sith's hells did he just think that?

[____] winced in mild complaint, laugh laced with pain. "Ow, that's quite a grip there, soldier!" 

"Sorry," he apologized, "didn't realize how hard it'd be. You carry a lot of stress and tension in your shoulders, ad'ika… I can feel how stiff your muscles are. I… have some experience with providing some relief for that, thanks to all the practice I've had with Wrecker and Tech. Tech's posture is a mess-" He rolled the palm of his hand against her shoulder experimentally, gauging the pliability of the tensest muscle, and she leaned into it eagerly with a whimpering 'oh, Maker…!' surprising even herself. Hunter decided he'd stubbornly pretend not to imagine how not-so-innocent the sound was, to keep talking about his brothers and ignore the heat in his lower belly, another flutter of his heart. "Tech spends hours hunched over his datapad, or some little gadget, or spends hours in those rigid crash seats in the Marauder with his muscles wound so tight he's practically locked in place. Wrecker takes such a beating each mission it's just… uh,"

"A w-way of taking care of him afterwards?" She helped him where he faultured. 

"Yeah. That's one part of it. Here, turn so I can get both shoulders." He had her melting under his touch quickly, the practically unhurried worship in this massage he was working into the medic's shoulders, neck, and the dominant arm. The muscles were so stiff and taut under her skin, under his ungloved hands. They were afraid to speak and break the reverence of this moment, the silent work of friend helping friend between each little involuntary sound of great relief or wince of brief pain as each tight, brow-bunching knot slowly surrendered. Her breathing pattern slowed as every minute elapsed between them beyond the gentle moans of relief as Hunter methodically kneaded the muscle free of tension with dexterous fingers. He wouldn't need to dig in so deeply like taking care of Wrecker's messes of well-defined muscle, for which he was grateful, to make any kind of progress, or go so tenderly to start with like he has to for Tech (on occasion) that the goggled Clone sometimes became a little impatient because he wasn't feeling any external relief. He could dip his fingers just a little deeper and just a little shallower, like those perpetual waves of Kamino replicated on Omega's sound machine, as he worked one muscle at a time for the unlikely friend who sat with him on the couch. 

It felt roughly the same to strengthening the bonds of the squad to Hunter, but again there was that fluttering in his heart that suggested this was so very different when he realized that when he moved back to [____]'s neck one last time, at her asking, and planted one of his palms on the opposite side of her face to keep her steadied as he dug little circles around the tight muscles under the base of her skull with his thumb that she took one last deep breath and was soon asleep in half a heart's beat between them. 

Hunter froze as he was, face hot in panic with the reality that he was now entirely supporting, for the moment, a female friend who was upright and asleep in his hands. Not knowing what to do just as the medic became more limp, he effectively locked himself in place when, on reflex, he caught her upper body against his before lowering it into his lap. A move he'd done a hundred times when one of the squad was this close to fainting out in the field.

Oh, you're kidding me… why the kriff did I do that?

[MASTERLIST] [NEXT]

[omegaverse-anthropologist]

oh wow jp’s alive and yappin up a storm

for no reason in particular, ive been thinking about bitching, both as a method of transition for omegas assigned alpha at birth and a vector for abuse. in this post, i’ll just talk about ‘delta-omega transition’ and in another post, i’ll talk about transphobia and ‘bitching’ as a vector for abuse.

also heads up that this is less pseudo-anthropology/sociology and more fantasy omegaverse than i usually get into, again because of the ‘no reason in particular’ from my danmei fandom sideblog linked above lmao

delta-omega transition (bitching)

delta(d)-omega transition, colloquially (and often disparagingly) referred to as bitching, is a method for an alpha to transition to omega. the transition is hormonally based, and does not generate internal organs or conjure the ability for the alpha to become pregnant. the houghton (slick) glands become engorged and begin producing lubrication similar to someone assigned omega at birth, and the body’s natural hormone levels shift to a more omega balance than an alpha balance. d-omega transition is impossible without some level of medical support, whether that be traditional/plant-based medicines or allopathic synthetic therapies.

as long as humans have existed, transgender humans have existed. there are records of people of all birth-assigned dynamic sexes being described as ‘delta’ or using a modifier before their dynamic sex designation. delta is used to describe a person who was assigned one dynamic at birth that does not align with their internal truth. (e.g., a d-alpha would historically describe an alpha who was assigned a different dynamic sex at birth, and d-beta or d-omega would similarly describe beta and omega experiences.) in the modern day, ‘delta’ is only used as a modifier in legal or medical contexts where absolutely necessary. a person’s ID does not reflect their dynamic sex as ‘d-beta,’ for example, but simply ‘beta.’

the use of delta as a sole dynamic sex indicator (i.e., instead of referring to someone in a medical context as a d-alpha, they are simply described as a delta) is frowned upon as inaccurate, unhelpful, and bigoted.

d-omega transition

modern d-omega transition functions similarly to other forms of hormone replacement therapy. under a physician’s supervision, the d-omega takes agonists to suppress production of alpha hormones and genesic medications to induce the production of omega hormones. support from packmates is a positive indicator for ease of transition, but in cases where a d-omega is rejected by their pack, there is support in the form of therapy groups and community-led delta-transition support centers, which often provide materials marked with either volunteers’ scents or synthetic pheromones.

historically, d-omega transition was achieved through a multi-step process that could be undertaken over the course of one to three years. the d-omega in question would brew certain plants into a tea. when consumed frequently enough as to be a constant presence in the body, the chemicals in this tea would have a destabilizing effect on the d-omega’s natural hormone balance. without support from a pack, frequent ingestion of this tea could induce a state of ferality.

with pack support, however, the individual’s hormone balance would be influenced toward a state more in line with the d-omega’s identity. creating this balance required frequent contact with alpha packmates. the contact was not necessarily sexual, though there are descriptions of regular sexual contact being requisite for successful transition. (note: these descriptions would not stand up to modern academic scrutiny, but they were, like the miasma theory of disease, accepted as fact at the time.)

typically, interaction with alpha pheromones would trigger a minor increase in omega dynamic hormones, balanced by a decrease in alpha dynamic hormones and an increase or decrease in beta hormones as appropriate to maintain homeostasis. however, in the destabilized state of a transitioning d-omega’s hormonal balance, this interaction would cause a more pronounced shift. frequent induction of this shift would, in essence, train the body to a new homeostasis. eventually, the d-omega would down-titrate from their destabilizing dose of medication. once their body was able to maintain omega hormonal balance without assistance, the therapy would be halted, and d-omega transition would be considered ‘complete.’

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

For those interested, here's my essay on the inaccuracies within John Boyne's "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas" and the damage the book/film do to Holocaust education. The essay is formatted as a hypothetical letter to a person who might have the ability to make positive change in response. All credit for this essay belongs to me, and I have included my bibliography at the bottom.

Dear Dr. Miguel Cardona, 

It’s been 90 years since Adolf Hitler came to power and the Holocaust began. In that time, myths, fallacies, and outright denial of the genocide have spread past the fringes of societies and moved into the mainstream. Study after study finds that knowledge about the Holocaust is not only waning, but false beliefs are becoming more common (Schoen Consulting) (Alper). Much of the ignorance propagating these beliefs is beginning in schools, and, though introducing the subject at its most honest is not appropriate for young ages, beginning education early is critical to students with no connection being able to understand the historical event. Unfortunately, John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, one of the most common books used in early Holocaust education, has instead been found to create more fallacies about the subject about which it’s supposed to educate. As a result, Boyne’s book works against the teaching of this part of history. I ask you and The Department of Education to make a statement and discourage the use of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas in early Holocaust education. 

The inaccuracies in The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas begin in the characters. As a 9-year-old German boy and son of a high-ranking Nazi official, Bruno might have been preparing to join the Hitler-Jugend, known also as Hitler Youth, though it’s more likely he already would have been a member. In addition, he would have been entrenched in academic propaganda where “The Jew [was] held up to the children of Germany as the target for this racial hatred and vindictiveness” (Kunzer, 146). The apparent case of Bruno not even knowing what a “Jew” is (Boyne, 95) adds to the falsehoods creating the character. Though this is an extreme example, inaccuracies like this aid in the common myth that Germans didn’t know the events occurring or the actions against Jewish people. In reality, propaganda against Jews was baked into every aspect of society and easily observable at the time, such as in Kunzer’s report. Germans knew that the Jewish people were being removed from society, and most supported it or were at least ambivalent. There would have been no friendship between Shmuel and Bruno, and certainly not one based off Bruno’s ignorance when history has made it clear he would have seen the Jews the way almost all Germans did: as the enemy. 

It’s also highly unlikely that Shmuel, as a 9-year-old Jewish boy, would be alive in Auschwitz. Though no specific camp is specified, Bruno’s perspective has the characters solely referring to the location as the mispronunciation “Out-With”, such as on page 28, suggesting the camp being Auschwitz despite the setting descriptions being inaccurate to that location. Officially, records found about 23,000 young people were registered in the camp (Fate of children in Auschwitz), with about 500 under 15 being liberated by Soviet Soldiers and most having had only been in the extermination camp a few months (The fate of the children). Children in extermination camps like Auschwitz-Birkenau were often only spared for one of two reasons. One, they were deemed able enough to be used for labor (which was used both for construction and production and as another method to kill the prisoners within the camp), or, two, they were used for the human experiments which took place within the camp (Children During the Holocaust). Even then, it’s likely Shmuel would have been sent to the gas chamber upon arrival. The lack of historical accuracy involved in Shmuel’s character creates the idea that there was any sort of childhood within Auschwitz. The children who were spared were not children, but numbers. The falsehoods take away the brutality of the Holocaust, padding it and making it gentle - not to make it acceptable to young readers, but instead to rewrite it.  

I understand my allegations of the damage The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas can and has done to modern youth’s understanding of the Holocaust might seem like extrapolation, but multiple studies have found children believe fallacies which stem directly from this book or its film adaptation. The majority of studies on impact seem to be done in England, but their findings are concerning nonetheless considering the book and film’s widespread use in America. In one study, Dr. Michael Gray looked at 298 eighth grade-equivalent students in four English schools “who had not previously studied the Holocaust in history at secondary school level” (Gray, 114). 12.8% of students directly referenced The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas when talking about their previous knowledge about the Holocaust (114), with some students mentioning the film’s “great insight” (115) and others mentioning the fictionality while saying many events are still factual (116). This seemed to be a trend; the fictionality was acknowledged, but many aspects in the story were nevertheless upheld as truth (116-117). Even with the book's identification as "A Fable" (Boyne, 1) it was also found some pupils believed it was true (116, 117). From misconceptions about deportations (119) to having complete misunderstanding about the roles of Sonderkommando (120-121), The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas seems to have wrought havoc on many students’ understanding of the Holocaust. 

The most worrying impact of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is the Nazi sympathy it seems to induce. The finale of the book and film are likely the primary sources as the ending sees Bruno killed after mistakenly going into a gas chamber with Shmuel and several other prisoners. These final chapters, 19 and 20, focus not on the camp or the purposeful murder of Jewish people, but instead on the grief of Bruno’s family and their new victimhood as a byproduct of the system from which they benefitted. The entire focus is taken from the Jewish people forced into the gas chambers with the goal of extermination and instead shifted onto the Nazis, looking solely at their sadness – the camp is depicted victimless until a Nazi’s son is the victim. This perhaps is what creates results seen in studies like the University College London Centre for Holocaust Education’s study on students’ knowledge of the Holocaust (Foster) which included a section on the impacts of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. The study noted students saying things such as “...it doesn’t matter who was the bigger victim, they were all still victim of Hitler’s control in some shape or form” and “Yes, it is too easy to feel sorry for the Jews in the film” (Foster, et al., 93) which were directly fuelled by the book or film. To place Jewish people and Nazis as equal victims of the Holocaust is to distort the history. The intentionality of targeting the Jewish people (and others, such as Romani people) needs to be understood to teach students to recognise the scapegoating and dehumanisation that can precede similar disasters. Despite the subject matter, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas causes students to disengage entirely with the Jewish people impacted and instead turn their sympathy towards the Nazis, erasing the victims from their own genocide.  

John Boyne is not unaware of the criticism of his book which has come from sources like Maus author Art Spiegelman (Lapin) and the Auschwitz Museum and Memorial (Auschwitz Memorial). In response to this criticism, Boyne told The Guardian, “...my novel, which, of course, was a work of fiction... therefore by its nature cannot contain inaccuracies, only anachronisms, and I don’t think there are any of those in there” (Flood). I have already pointed out numerous inaccuracies within the work. In addition, the allegation that historical fiction is somehow immune to inaccuracy is so flagrantly false that I struggle to understand how one could even make that statement. Though I could go into the myriad of ways historical fiction can absolutely be inaccurate, Dr. Michael Gray articulated it better when he said “...any author or film maker who chooses to use the Holocaust as their context, especially one who sets the film around a commandant and Auschwitz, is, whether they recognise it or not, producing a Holocaust story” (Gray, 125). It doesn’t matter what Boyne believes or how he views the falsehoods in his book when historians, impact studies, and a myriad of other sources prove the book incorrect as well as harmful. An author, even of historical fiction, cannot negate the facts - especially when their chosen setting has come to define a genocide.  

Dr. Cardona, John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas contains inaccuracies which actively work against the education it claims to bolster. Discouraging the use of this book in Holocaust education in favor of options like Susan Goldman Rubin’s The Cat with the Yellow Star: Coming of Age in Terezinor Anne Frank’s well known The Diary of a Young Girl is to eliminate a creator of many of the Holocaust myths which historians and Jewish groups work to combat. Thank you for your consideration. 

Sincerely, 

J

Bibliography 

Alper, Becka A., et al. “What Americans Know About The Holocaust.” Pew Research Center, Jan 2020. Accessed 29 Oct 2023. 

“Auschwitz-Birkenau.” My Jewish Learning, https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/auschwitz-birkenau/. Accessed 15 Oct 2023.  

Auschwitz Memorial [@AuschwitzMuseum]. “We understand those concerns, and we already addressed the inaccuracies in some books published. However, “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas” should be avoided by anyone who studies or teaches about the history of the Holocaust.” X, 5 Jan 2020, https://twitter.com/AuschwitzMuseum/status/1213807345932931072. Accessed 3 Oct 2023.  

Boyne, John. The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. Black Swan Edition, David Fickling Books, 2007. https://archive.org/details/the-boy-in-the-striped-pijamas/mode/1up. Accessed 22 Oct 2023.  

“Children During the Holocaust.” My Jewish Learning, https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/children-during-the-holocaust/. Accessed 15 Oct 2023.

“The fate of the children.” Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum, https://www.auschwitz.org/en/history/fate-of-children/the-fate-of-the-children/. Accessed 15 Oct 2023.  

“Fate of children in Auschwitz.” Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum, https://www.auschwitz.org/en/fate-of-children-in-auschwitz/. Accessed 15 Oct 2023.  

Flood, Allison. “The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas author defends work from criticism by Auschwitz memorial.” The Guardian, 7 Jan 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/jan/07/john-boyne-defends-work-from-criticism-by-auschwitz-memorial. Accessed 22 Oct 2023.  

Foster, Stuart, et al. “What do students know and understand about the Holocaust? Evidence from English secondary schools”. University College London Centre for Holocaust Education, 2016, https://discovery.ucl.ac.uk/id/eprint/1475816/14/Foster_What-do-students-know-and-understand-about-the-Holocaust-2nd-Ed.pdf. Accessed 29 Oct 2023.

Gray, Michael. “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas: A Blessing or Curse for Holocaust Education?”. A Journal of Culture and History, vol. 20, no. 3, 2014, pg. 109-136, https://gcedclearinghouse.org/sites/default/files/resources/The%20boy%20in%20the%20striped%20pyjamas.PDF. Accessed 22 Oct 2023.  

Kunzer, Edward J. “‘Education’ Under Hitler.” The Journal of Educational Sociology, vol. 13, no. 3, 1939, pp. 140-147. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/2262306. Accessed 15 Oct 2023. 

Lapin, Andrew. “Art Spiegleman, speaking to Tennesseeans, says ‘Maus’ controversy is ‘about controlling’.” Jewish Telegraphic Agency, 7 Feb 2022,  https://www.jta.org/2022/02/07/united-states/art-spiegelman-speaking-to-tennesseeans-says-maus-controversy-is-about-controlling. Accessed 3 Oct 2023.  

Schoen Consulting. “Holocaust Knowledge and Awareness Study.” Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany, 2018, https://www.claimscon.org/wp- content/uploads/2018/04/Holocaust-Knowledge-Awareness-Study_Executive-Summary-2018.pdf. Accessed 29 Oct 2023.  

[dkakapizzaboy]

Casting Svt as Characters in KDramas I’ve Watched

Masterlist || Taglist Form

Words: Around 900

Category: Fluff I guess

A/n: If you disagree w any of these, I’m always open for healthy discussion

Disclaimers:

a) A lot of these shows I watched a while ago so if any character descriptions are inaccurate, please drag me it’s okay.

b) Some characters are, of course, very different in age than the members but just go on the emotions, will ya?

c) Character descriptions are kept vague on purpose because I don’t want to give spoilers. Also, if I’ve given any major spoilers unintentionally, I apologise.

d) Spellings of Character names are from Wikipedia, so if you find any inaccuracies, pls lmk

Taglist: @junhui-recs @drunk-on-dk @wonuhour @enhacolor

Fic specific tags: @wonwussy @bitchlessdino hope you guys like it!

1. Choi Seungcheol as Lee Young-Joon in What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim

The strong male character with childhood trauma who doesn’t know what to do with his feelings once he realises the love of his life, whom he had never confessed to, is leaving him screams Seungcheol to me. He’s awkward with his feelings, reacts poorly when hearing the news, is a true leader who silently burdens not only his trauma, but also his brother’s.

2. Yoon Jeonghan as Park Chang-ho in Big Mouth

I think, of all the people in the world who can deceive a prison full of inmates that they’re a criminal mastermind and you shouldn’t mess with them, no one else would compare to Jeonghan. The professional lawyer, who is framed and sent to prison, is a good person at heart, and helps other suppressed inmates and leads a revolution. Jeonghan is particularly quick to think on his feet, which matches the character’s energy.

3. Hong Joshua as Kang Tae- Moo in Business Proposal

A cold CEO who is super averse to dating and and is busy running his business meets and instantly falls in love with a girl who is posing as her friend on this blind date to get rid of him. He is devoted to his family, his passion for his company’s food products is only matched by our heroine. He’s a great cook and is also kind of nosy in his little brother’s love life.

4. Wen Junhui as An Min-Hyuk in Strong Girl Bong Soon

The cute, funny gaming company CEO who hires our Bong Soon as a bodyguard just screams Jun to me, both because of his passion for games and gaming development but also for his endearingly cute and shy demeanour and the sense of humour. Plus actor Jun deserves a fun, cool and handsome role like this, considering we might never get to see his c drama :((

5. Kwon Soonyoung as Jung Joon-hyung in Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo

Ok so this is the latest drama I’ve watched and Joonhyung’s passion and commitment for swimming instantly reminded me of Hoshi and his passion for dance. A bonus factor is the fact that after seeing In the Soop S2, I can confirm his….ahem…abdominal area can easily pass for a swimmer’s.

6. Jeon Wonwoo as Cha Sung-hoon in Business Proposal

Yeah I don’t think I need to explain this.

7. Lee Jihoon as Wi Seung-Huen in Rookie Cops

I’m sorry but Woozi as a trainee cop along with an initial e2f2l storyline???? Sign me uppppppp… Plus, this character is like the ace trainee along with having daddy issues and a strong sense of morality that builds over time. Just writing this is making me crave a Woozi remake of this show.

8. Xu Minghao as Myul Mang in Doom at Your Service

Minghao, I think, is the best person in the world who can bring doom to the world while looking fucking stylish and having an angsty emo personality. Fuck the humans, what even do they have. Xu minghao is literally here to end us all. Plus the later developments in the show and the emotions this characters develops….I’ll cry watching if Minghao was Myul Mang. Also, I feel like Minghao is the most supernaturally member in Svt- you know the one who is into Tarot cards and palm readings.

9. Kim Mingyu as Ji U-Min in The Fabulous

Ngl, the Going Magazine episode was a big factor while giving Mingyu this character. This super talented fashion and street photographer, who sometimes struggles to find his aim and is stuck in the friend zone after breaking up with the female lead is such Gyu vibe honestly. This man is so supportive, encouraging…and might I say relentless?

10. Lee Seokmin as Baek Hee- Sung in Flower of Evil

The beauty of Dark! Seokmin is something to behold, a fantasy I will never give up on. A bright, perfect husband in every sense of the way on the surface with a dark past and even darker present….. is….so…..hot. And his wife is a police officer? Yup yup add it to the drama. Mars’ serial killer DK fic has arisen a fantasy in me that i don’t think is going away anytime soon. Plus I’m a sucker for complicated, grey characters whose layers are revealed slowly as the series progresses. He’s almost an anti- hero here.

11. Boo Seungkwan as Lee Seung-cheon in The Golden Spoon

Another grey character, probably the most complicated character on this list. I think, for me, our Boo is also the most emotionally complex and mature guy in seventeen so I think this character really suits him. Our lead guy, is born into poverty but changes his luck, along with his family’s, by switching lives with the richest guy in his school. Complications, along with consequences, haunt him.

12. Chwe Hansol as Goo Chang-seong in Hotel Del Luna

I’m sorry but Vernon as this character??? In great looking suits and constantly in service of ghosts to help them finish their last wishes and peacefully transition to afterlife along with having… probably the most emotional love story ever…..yeah I need a minute, or a week.

13. Lee Chan as Kim Do-ki in Taxi Driver

Taxi driver is probably my favourite kdrama till date. And Dino as the sexy vigilante who takes revenge for people who the system can’t help is such a sexy concept. Action hero Dino to the rescue! Plus the main character plays so many roles undercover and is so hilarious at times that Dino will fit perfectly in this character’s shoes.

[maks-punchout-hyperfixtion]

I have a "group photo" type idea with the circuits with both contender and title defense designs but i also noticed that Delilah has been getting A bit to much love from me

Sorry dally i promise your still important

So this little preview is with vicky because why haven't i gotten to her introduction yet its been two months now mak

Enjoy

From vicky herself: she envy's those who don't have to untangle hair to get it even. She used alot of hair products. And gel.

Fun fact: the ao3 story definitely has an inaccurate description. But then again the book is kind just a character introduction thing NOT a fully canon story. Think of that one fanfic of mute little mac greeting all the wii contenders. If I find it again i'll let y'all know in a reblog

Her outfit also got revamped abit, this is what it used to look like

You see why i changed it? Good.

Thanks for reading!

[dykesbites]

“i haven’t heard anything about feinberg and radfeminism.” = “i don’t listen to transbians.” typical tmebian, but i will help you. check out adrienne rich’s contributions and support to transsexual empire and her relationship with feinberg. you may also want to read these posts:

https://www.tumblr.com/gatheringbones/760796977955995648

https://www.tumblr.com/plaidos/760581707849203713/i-wonder-what-you-make-of-leslie-feinbergs

https://www.tumblr.com/plaidos/761892639272468480/how-could-xyz-be-a-terf-if-theyre-literally

when i got that ask i searched for evidence on tumblr and the internet and found just that third link, which doesn't actually give any evidence that feinberg associates w terfs. i didn't find anything else online, so i responded asking for clarification.

first link doesn't work. regarding the second link, i haven't actually read sbb so i can't speak on how trans women are treated in it.

here's the description from the post by plaidos: "transfems are treated in Stone Butch Blues in very much the same way cis women would be by a misogynistic writer who still “loves & appreciates” women; they exist to give emotional support to the Real Main Characters whilst reminding us how hard and complicated it is to be a transsexual, whilst ALSO reminding us how we exist to be rewards for other people’s self-improvement journey".

i'm not going to dismiss that assessment. if that's how it comes across to plaidos, and other transfems agree with her opinion, then i'm sure its accurate. but it's probably not something a tme person would be able to detect, and it seems like the sort of fumble a well intentioned ally would make. that doesn't make it okay, or make sbb/feinberg immune to criticism, but i think it's a stretch to consider that as evidence that s/he was a transmisogynist? it's fairly common to make mistakes or have an inaccurate view of people you're attempting to ally with. again, that doesn't make those mistakes okay, but it also doesn't make you a terf. if feinberg wasn't friends with many other transfems/tma people and didn't fight for their rights, i'd be less inclined to give the benefit of the doubt

now when i looked up adrienne rich, this came up

Wikipedia text: Janice Raymond, in the foreword of her 1979 book The Transsexual Empire, thanked Rich for "constant encouragement" and cited her in the book's chapter "Sappho by Surgery." "The Transsexual Empire" is considered by some LGBT and feminist critics to be transphobic, and many have criticized Rich for her involvement in and support of its production. While Rich never explicitly disavowed her support for Raymond's work, Leslie Feinberg cites Rich as having been supportive during Feinberg's writing of Transgender Warriors. End transcript.

yeah, this sucks. i haven't read transsexual empire so again, idk. i don't have a lot to go off here so it may be worse than this wikipedia article makes it out to be, but from what i can tell, feinberg mentions having talked to someone who contributed to someone else's transphobic book. this again, seems like kind of a stretch? its entirely possible feinberg didn't know, or that feinberg was under the impression that rich could be persuaded to understand the trans perspective on transsexual empire. this also doesn't imply anything about their relationship, there's nothing here or anywhere else i can find that suggests they were anything more than acquaintances.

here are the three citations next to the last sentence from the wikipedia article: Diving Into the Wreck / "What Kind of Times Are These?" / Was Adrienne Rich Anti-Trans? first and second links are written by trans women. none of them make a solid connection between rich and feinberg

i appreciate you taking the time to provide links and follow up when i asked for more information, and im absolutely open to further discussion (other tma people are encouraged to weigh in!)

[podado-t-memes]

Deaf Representation in Media (Image Description Included)

Full Disclosure, I am a Hearing woman so all information in these slides are from online Deaf resources (I linked below), but if anything is inaccurate or needs tweaking please let me know! I’ve also never written out the Image Descriptions so please let me know if I need to fix anything!

[ID 1: Four hands using ASL to spell out “Deaf.” The background has various still images of people signing “I love you,” Fingerspelling “Hawkeye,” and a title card from a show reading “The Boy from 6B.”

Then reads “Representation in Media” / end ID1]

[ID 2: Stock Photo of mother and child with Hearing Aids.

There is a statistical chart in the bottom left corner that reads “New Study of Hearing Loss among US adults aged 20 to 69. Who has hearing loss? 14% of adults aged 20-69 in 2011-2012. Prevalence of hearing loss has declined slightly from about 16% in 1999-2004.”

The caption around the picture reads “What is Representation? Representation is the portrayal of another culture or people/person in media that is done respectfully and not stereotyped.

Why is Deaf representation so important? Approximately 48 million Americans have some degree of hearing loss (Hearing Loss Association of America). Good Deaf and Hard of Hearing Representation can be very validating to those in the community because they can see themselves in these characters. Accurate representation can be educational for people outside the Deaf community to learn more about it in a non-stereotyped way.” / end ID 2]

[ID 3: Photo of the National Association of the Deaf logo.

The caption over the logo reads “ According to the National Association for the Deaf (NDA) proper media portrait of deafness should include:

The production should be accessible. Clear cooperation between Deaf individuals and all media personnel, interpreters, etc.

All terminology, when referring to Deaf or Hard of Hearing people, should be up-to date and not offensive.

All descriptions of Deaf individuals should be based on the people’s personalities and not be patronizing by including terms like they are “overcoming,” “inspiring,” “special,” etc.

Media should listen to the knowledge and ideas from those in the Deaf or Hard of Hearing communities, and not from those outside the community (even if meant well).

Media should make conscious steps to work with the other groups a Deaf individual might be part of such as other cultures, religions, ethnicities, sexualities, etc.

All media should be made accessible and available for all Deaf and Hard of Hearing folks.

/End ID 3]

[ID 4: In the Background is the poster for the movie “Coda.” Four people are looking into the camera and holding up the sign for “I love you.”

The caption over the poster reads “Recently, there has been an increase in the general public’s interest in Deaf stories with the success of the Movie “CODA” (2021)... But we still have a long way to go with Deaf Rep…” /end ID 4]

[ID 5: The image shows two sheets taken from the Deaf West theater. One shows What TV genres see the most and least Deaf representation? While the other is on what types of Deaf characters have hearing audiences seen represented in media.

At the top the caption reads “According to NRG and the Deaf West Theater…”

The caption below the charts reads “Depending on the type or genre of media an individual consumes may determine how much exposure they get to seeing Deaf people represented.

Even within the already small portion of Deaf people represented, there are even smaller subsections of minorities shown less in the Media.” /end ID 5]

[ID 6: The screen shot is of the NRG webpage article “NRG and Deaf West Theatre release roundtable film on Deaf representation”

The caption above the image reads “Linked below is a video from NRG and The Deaf West Theater where they are interviewing Deaf people in the creative industry (Writers, directors, actors, ect.) talking about their experiences with and the state of Deaf representation in today’s media. https://www.nrgmr.com/our-thinking/entertainment/nrg-and-deaf-west-theatre-release-roundtable-film-on-deaf-representation/” /end ID 6]

[ID 7: Caption at the top reads “Good examples of Deaf representation!”

Below we have pictures of 4 different Deaf characters. On the top left is Theo from Only Murders in the Building. Top right is Jackie from Craig of the creek. Bottom left is Marvel comics Hawkeye. And on the bottom left is Daphne from Switched at birth. /end ID 7]

[ID 8: Caption at the top reads “My personal favorite… Linda Bove (Sesame street from 1971-2002)”

Below the caption are 16 pictures of Linda throughout her time while on sesame street. Mostly she is with her co-star Bob. /end ID 8]

Resources:

[maisanctuary]

14 common inner critic attacks

Here is a list of 14 common inner critic attacks divided into the key categories of perfectionism and endangerment. Each is paired with a healthier (and typically more accurate) thought-substitution response. Click here for the PDF version.

Perfectionism My perfectionism arose as an attempt to gain safety and support in my dangerous family. Perfection is a self-persecutory myth. I do not have to be perfect to be safe or loved in the present. I am letting go of relationships that require perfection. I have a right to make mistakes. Mistakes do not make me a mistake. Every mistake or mishap is an opportunity to practice loving myself in the places I have never been loved.

All-or-None & Black-and-White Thinking I reject extreme or overgeneralized descriptions, judgments or criticisms. One negative happenstance does not mean I am stuck in a never-ending pattern of defeat. Statements that describe me as “always” or “never” this or that, are typically grossly inaccurate.

Self-Hate, Self-Disgust & Toxic Shame I commit to myself. I am on my side. I am a good enough person. I refuse to trash myself. I turn shame back into blame and disgust, and externalize it to anyone who shames my normal feelings and foibles. As long as I am not hurting anyone, I refuse to be shamed for normal emotional responses like anger, sadness, fear and depression. I especially refuse to attack myself for how hard it is to completely eliminate the self-hate habit.

Micromanagement/Worrying/Obsessing/ Looping/ Over-Futurizing I will not repetitively examine details over and over. I will not jump to negative conclusions. I will not endlessly second-guess myself. I cannot change the past. I forgive all my past mistakes. I cannot make the future perfectly safe. I will stop hunting for what could go wrong. I will not try to control the uncontrollable. I will not micromanage myself or others. I work in a way that is “good enough”, and I accept the existential fact that my efforts sometimes bring desired results and sometimes they do not. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference” - The Serenity Prayer

Unfair/Devaluing Comparisons To others or to one’s most perfect moments. I refuse to compare myself unfavorably to others. I will not compare “my insides to their outsides”. I will not judge myself for not being at peak performance all the time. In a society that pressure us into acting happy all the time, I will not get down on myself for feeling bad.

Guilt Feeling guilty does not mean I am guilty. I refuse to make my decisions and choices from guilt; sometimes I need to feel the guilt and do it anyway. In the inevitable instance when I inadvertently hurt someone, I will apologize, make amends, and let go of my guilt. I will not apologize over and over. I am no longer a victim. I will not accept unfair blame. Guilt is sometimes camouflaged fear. – “I am afraid, but I am not guilty or in danger”.

"Shoulding” I will substitute the words “want to” for “should” and only follow this imperative if it feels like I want to, unless I am under legal, ethical or moral obligation.

Overproductivity/Workaholism/Busyholism I am a human being not a human doing. I will not choose to be perpetually productive. I am more productive in the long run, when I balance work with play and relaxation. I will not try to perform at 100% all the time. I subscribe to the normalcy of vacillating along a continuum of efficiency.

Harsh Judgments of Self & Others/Name-Calling I will not let the bullies and critics of my early life win by joining and agreeing with them. I refuse to attack myself or abuse others. I will not displace the criticism and blame that rightfully belongs to them onto myself or current people in my life. “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself”. - Jane EyreENDANGERMENT ATTACKS

Drasticizing/Catastrophizing/Hypochondrisizing I feel afraid but I am not in danger. I am not “in trouble” with my parents. I will not blow things out of proportion. I refuse to scare myself with thoughts and pictures of my life deteriorating. No more home-made horror movies and disaster flicks.

Negative focus I renounce over-noticing & dwelling on what might be wrong with me or life around me. I will not minimize or discount my attributes. Right now, I notice, visualize and enumerate my accomplishments, talents and qualities, as well as the many gifts Life offers me, e.g., friends, nature, music, film, food, beauty, color, pets, etc.

Time Urgency I am not in danger. I do not need to rush. I will not hurry unless it is a true emergency. I am learning to enjoy doing my daily activities at a relaxed pace.

Disabling Performance Anxiety I reduce procrastination by reminding myself that I will not accept unfair criticism or perfectionist expectations from anyone. Even when afraid, I will defend myself from unfair criticism. I won’t let fear make my decisions.

Perseverating About Being Attacked Unless there are clear signs of danger, I will thought-stop my projection of past bully/critics onto others. The vast majority of my fellow human beings are peaceful people. I have legal authorities to aid in my protection if threatened by the few who aren’t. I invoke thoughts and images of my friends’ love and support.

Source: Pete Walker in "Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving"