#they are just things I've worn / plan to wear in the case of the one decorated with roses

[anglerflsh]

uni doodles

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.

[tfnonsense]

So if a woman shrank out of her clothes which I presume would be the case considering that's the most likely scenario if they want to keep their bodies covered what would you suggest the best temporary clothing would be

If there's preparation time, and the shrinking is planned, potentially not even bother. If truly desired and/or insisted upon, however, any light material that can be worn like a large towel or toga.

If the resulting size is known, an outfit could even be made in advance, but it would probably need to be dress-like for a shrunken person. I say this because of stitching and seams, which don't scale.

(Of course, if you're shrinking a person, maybe you can shrink a pair of pants and a t-shirt, too, but this scenario says that isn't an option for whatever reason).

Actually, thinking on how seams don't scale, yeah. A VERY simple dress with head and arm holes seams the ideal to me. This would be applicable to every shrunken person, not just women.

If unexpected, work with what you've got. If no one of normal size is around to help, options might be extremely limited. It's the one situation in which being slightly messy about laundry might be a good thing, but I doubt anyone would be too excited about dirty clothes left on the floor as an option.

Granted, I'm thinking of this from my own expectations. I've seen bedrooms in anime with way more kept on, or closer to, the floor.

The clothes they were wearing might be an option, especially if it was summer. I'm trying NOT to suggest using underwear, as that's one of those "I bet this happened in an indulgent mange" scenarios, BUT if looking for relative light and small clothing to reappropriate for use on a shrunken body, that might genuinely be a "sensible" option.

Though, at that point, maybe the shrunken party should forego modesty and focus on bigger problems.

[pavaal]

mari mobamenco masterpost

unlike most of the masagoto conversations, a lot of these were not retranslated because i no longer have the original japanese, but i just wanted to compile them! i did find a couple things that i never translated that were sitting in a word document so those are new, but mostly they're just cleaned up to make them easier to understand and less clunky to read.

my next plan for translation stuff is to tackle the mini-dramas in yomecolle! i have some of the cards already translated in my tag, but there are a few things i skipped, and i'd like to put together a proper script for the cards where masayoshi and goto were specifically talking to each other. after that, i bought some magazines that i'd like to translate the blurbs from!

for now, enjoy mari+masayoshi and goto+mari having inane chats about nothing.

MARI+MASAYOSHI

Masayoshi: When you’re trying to persuade someone to do the right thing, you absolutely can’t give up! Mari: That’s sooo boooooring. Masayoshi: I’m sure everyone could understand each other if we just tried to communicate! Mari: Well, I’ll leave the talking to you!

Mari: Omawari-san wa inu ~ ♪ Masayoshi: What are you singing? Mari: "Inu no Policeman!" It's my new song. Masayoshi: It's… interesting… Mari: It's good, right?

Masayoshi: You're very cat-like. Mari: You think so? I guess I've worn cat ears in promos and things like that. Masayoshi: Now that I think about it, you were such a kitten when we first met! Mari: Are you trying to give me a compliment? (Another one that needs some explanation. Masayoshi says that Mari was 猫をかぶってた, which literally means "wearing a cat [costume, in the case of Masayoshi and Mari's first meeting]" but has the idiomatic meaning of something similar to "a wolf in sheep's clothing." Masayoshi accidentally (?) said that Mari was only pretending to be sweet, but he literally meant that she was dressed as a cat.)

Mari: I heard you refuse to use an umbrella. Masayoshi: Actually, there's a very profound reason for this… Mari: That's okay. I don't need to know. Masayoshi: If you're going to bring it up, please listen until the end.

Masayoshi: What are you doing? Mari: I’m preparing outfits for our police friend~ Masayoshi: Oh… Goto-san would look good in this one! Mari: Right?!

Masayoshi: Cats are pretty cute, huh? Mari: Oh, are you a cat lover? Masayoshi: No, I actually prefer dogs. Mari: Yeah, I can see that… you do seem like a big puppy. Masayoshi: D… do I really come off that way?

Masayoshi: What do you like to do in your free time? Mari: I like to cause a little trouble! Masayoshi: Can you really call yourself a hero with an attitude like that?! Mari: It was a joke! A jooooke!

Masayoshi: It's dangerous for girls like you to go out alone at night! Mari: Don't worry! I mean, I save YOU all the time. Masayoshi: Um, that's a different issue entirely. Mari: Anyway, let's make this city safe for everyone to go out at night! Masayoshi: Yes… you're right! Let's do our best!

Mari: I need some advice! Masayoshi: Yes? What is it? Mari: I don't know what kind of attack to debut next. A taser? Blunt force? Or maybe… an explosion would be best? Masayoshi: Um… I'd like to recommend something more gentle…

Mari: I've been in a great mood recently! Masayoshi: Me too! Mari: I wonder if it's because I got to see a certain officer the other day…? Masayoshi: I also saw Goto-san a few days ago!

Mar: I've been in a great mood recently! Masayoshi: Oh, really? Mari: Yeah, I kind of feel like… maybe I'm the most important person in the world? It's like I can do anything!

Masayoshi: Last night, I dreamt Goto-san made me curry. Mari: Huh?! Invite me next time! Masayoshi: But it was only a dream… Mari: Yeah, and I wanna have this dream too!

Mari: What type of person is that policeman interested in? Masayoshi: Goto-san? Um… His girlfriend, and people who email him a lot, I suppose… Mari: So I'll start by sending him 100 emails a day! Masayoshi: That'll just make him angry!

Masayoshi: I'll take care of things here! You go ahead! Mari: Huh? Isn't that what a sidekick would say? Masayoshi: No way! It's a hero's line! Mari: Then… I'll take care of things here. You go ahead, junior!

Mari: Do you have many friends? Masayoshi: No, not really. Mari: Is that so? Masayoshi: It's hard to find people to share my hobbies with. Mari: I hate to say it, but I know that feeling…

MARI+GOTO

Mari: I wanna eat your cooking. Goto: Anything in particular? Mari: Anything that you make is fine by me! Goto: Then I'll heat up some instant curry later. Mari: You know, when I said "anything," that wasn't exactly what I meant…

Mari: Who do you like more, me or Samumenco? Goto: I don’t like either of you. Mari: Then… who do you like more, Samumenco or your girlfriend?! Goto: Huh? Why wouldn’t I pick my girlfriend?! Mari: You hesitated just now! Goto: I didn’t hesitate!!

Goto: What do you do in your spare time? Mari: I don't actually have that much free time… I have to compose songs, learn routines, things like that. Goto: Right, your job keeps you busy. Mari: Lately, I've also had to prepare a variety of uniforms for you! Goto: I never asked you to do that!

Mari: Now that I think about it, I had a bounty on my head too, didn't I? Goto: Yeah, when everyone was running around for information. Mari: Honestly, the amount was way too low! Goto: THAT'S what bothers you? Mari: It should've been 100 million, at least!

Goto: I haven't been able to take a break in forever because of you guys. Mari: Got it! Let me apologize by taking you on vacation! Goto: What kind of vacation would THAT be?!

Goto: What do you think about getting cosmetic surgery and stuff like that? Mari: Ick! I would never. Goto: That's actually quite sensible of you. Mari: It's because my body is already 100% perfect!

Goto: Being an idol seems really busy. You must be exhausted. Mari: I find a way to make time! Goto: Don't you ever sleep? Mari: Well, you know, in meetings and stuff. Goto: Don't do that!

Goto: Do you even have a license? Mari: Of course! Goto: For driving? Mari: Yeah! My most recent driving instructor even said that my driving was the best it's ever been! Goto: Somehow… I feel bad for him.

Goto: You and Masayoshi kind of have similar tastes, huh? Mari: What do you mean? Goto: Like your costumes, for example. Mari: Don't be stupid! My costume is ten thousand times better than his! Right? Goto: …no, they're pretty much the same.

Mari: Omawari-san wa inu ~ ♪ Goto: What are you singing? Mari: It’s my new song—“Inu no Policeman!” Goto: Huh. (There’s no way it could be about me, right?)

Goto: What is it about me that makes freaks like me so much? Mari: You’d call me a freak when I'm standing right in front of you? Goto: Ah… sorry. I was thinking about Masayoshi. Mari: So you totally ignore that I like you too, huh…

Mari: Don't you want to join us heroes? Goto: I'm already a cop, so that's like a hero of the common people. Mari: Well, the uniform is good, but it's a little plain… Goto: It's plain work, supporting society.

Mari: Hey, officer? Where can I buy a gun? Goto: No way. Don't buy one, don't use one, don't even WANT one. Mari: Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say… I guess I'll just have to use my shock baton and explosives! Goto: Don't use those either!

Goto: Whenever you get photographed as Flamenco Girl, you always face the camera and strike a pose. Mari: Of course I'm gonna pose for the camera! Goto: I guess that comes with being an idol. Mari: No, I've been this way since I was a little girl!

Goto: Do you want to see a movie sometime? Mari: I've only got the Red Axe movie, but guys like that, right? Goto: Why do both of you only have these hero show theatrical releases…?

Goto: You and Masayoshi both live in really nice places. Mari: Why don't you spend the night sometime? Any time you want is okay with me! Goto: Absolutely not.

Goto: Ever since I met you, it feels like it's been nothing but losing tickets. Mari: You don't think meeting me was like winning the lottery?! Goto: No, it was more like blowing my savings on nothing. Mari: You're supposed to be happy we met.

[quaranmine]

Letters from the Lookout #3 - Losing, Looking, Finding, Losing

(HC Firewatch AU snippets, 1,397 words)

Grian receives an unexpected phone call a month before he's set to start his new job as a fire lookout. CW: death/body but no worse than anything I've done to you in the main story

April 5, 1989

Grian arrives home around 6 PM, feeling worn and ragged at every edge. He closes the apartment door behind him and just leans against it, head tipped back and eyes closed, for a moment. It is quiet, except for the sounds of cars on the street below. He’s exhausted and he has to do it all again tomorrow. 

He can’t wait to get out of here. The desire vibrates at the core of his being, extending out to all his limbs. He wants to pace until he wears a line in his living room rug. He wants to pack. He wants to pore over maps and make plans. 

He doesn’t want to go to work. Not tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after. He’s so sick of it that the very idea turns his stomach. He hates the job, he hates his assignments, he hates his coworkers, he hates the commute, and he hates his boss.

But mostly he hates how utterly pointless it all is. He’s itching to leave. He’ll be out of here in just a few weeks, bound for the enigmatic forests of the Shoshone. He starts his new life training as a fire lookout on May 1st. He’s got the tentative job offer in hand and everything! Only his background check is pending, and he knows there’s no dirt to uncover there. 

And he can’t hand in his resignation now, because he’s got to at least receive one more stupid paycheck. It’s such a shame he has to eat to live. He’d skip that part if he could. 

Then suddenly the moment passes. Life goes on. He leans down and quickly unties his shoes. He casts them aside at the door with only the barest consideration that they don’t become a tripping hazard later. He sets his bag on the coffee table, careful to not crush the papers that litter the table underneath it. 

He turns to the kitchen. He doesn’t want to cook, and he isn’t hungry right now, so he’ll probably just make himself a sandwich later tonight. He steps toward the kitchen to go wash his hands, but he notices something else that arrests his progress first. 

There’s a light at the answering machine, meaning someone called him while he was at work. Few people other than telemarketers call him these days. Nor do they all know to leave a message. He sighs, lifts the phone to his ear, and presses play on the tape. 

He freezes when the man on the other end starts talking. 

“Hello, this is Walter Holt from the Shoshone National Forest Supervisor’s Office,” the man says. He continues, “I’m calling to give you a brief update about your friend’s case. I informed his family as well today.”

Grian subconsciously leans forward, into the words. 

It can’t be good news. After a while, you get the sense for this kind of thing. A hundred little things might be off, from facial expression to body language. But now, over the phone, it’s simply tone. 

“We received a report yesterday from a person who was scouting land for a mining claim around Forest Road 448. They thought they had found human remains. Our rangers were able to verify this report this morning.”

Grian closes his eyes as the room spins out from underneath him.

“I’m calling to let you know that this is something we are investigating in connection with your friend’s case. As you know, his vehicle was found at the Cloud Lake Trailhead off of road 448 and he was last seen in the area. We have not made a positive ID yet on the body. I will call to inform you of the results. If you have questions, please call me back at…”

There’s another message that has been left for him. He hits play on that one too, without even thinking about it. Desperation creeps over him.  

Maybe it’ll be good news. Maybe they’ve called back to say actually, sorry, we made a mistake! Maybe it was all in a day’s work, solved and debunked before Grian even returned home from his job. 

It’s not—but it isn’t bad news, either. It’s just more of the same. Mumbo’s mum called to tell him about the same thing. She’s always been good about that after a few key incidents where the Forest Service seemingly intentionally left Grian off the contact list. (He’s not family and some people only apparently want to contact the family.) 

She sounds like she’s been crying again. He’ll have to call her back in the morning when the waking hours of their time zones line up. If he calls her now he’ll wake her up. Well, it’s more likely he wouldn’t wake her up at all right now, even in the middle of the night. He knows she barely sleeps. But he politely pretends to accept the lie that she is coping better than she actually is. God knows he’s the same.  

Grian sets down the receiver with a tightly controlled movement. 

Then he buries his face in his hands and tries not to hyperventilate. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be. He can’t let it be. His best friend, actually dead. Gone. Never coming home. 

And he’s, what—hearing about this from a phone call? 

This can’t be a real thing that’s happening to him. Mumbo always pulls through. Mumbo is always there for Grian. Why wasn’t Grian there for him? Why did this happen?

He should have been there. He should have gone with Mumbo. He should have reported him missing the very second Mumbo was late to check-in, and not given him a few hours’ grace period. He shouldn’t have agreed to let the search crew suspend their efforts after three weeks; he should have pushed them, he should have fought them, he should have thrown a fit and gotten Mumbo found. He should have quit his job. He should’ve stayed in Wyoming all summer instead of coming back to Denver when the official search was over. What did he think he was going to accomplish by going there now, one year later?

He should have done everything differently. Maybe if he did, he would have his best friend standing in the kitchen next to him right now. 

The only option is that it simply isn’t real. And if it isn’t real, then he can’t stop all of his efforts just because of a phone call. 

They don’t know it’s Mumbo. The man on the phone told him there wasn’t an ID on the body yet, which means it could be anyone. It might not be him. 

But if it isn’t Mumbo…then that means he’s still out there. Alone. Cold. Starving. 

Grian feels no relief at the idea that Mumbo might still be out there. Nor does he feel any relief at the idea this person who’s been found might be him. This is it, all the time. There’s no good option. Every single option that exists is just endless, wrenching, agony. 

If Mumbo is dead, then everything is just unthinkable. If he’s alive, then he’s probably suffering. Grian just wants the limbo to end so he doesn’t have to be here, thinking about it, but—not like this. Not like this. Not with a phone call and an unidentified body. 

In just a moment, a flicker of anger passes through his mind. He grabs the nearest thing he can see on the counter—a napkin holder—then turns and throws it into the floor as hard as he can. It bounces once, and breaks. He stares at it for a moment, and then whirls around and kicks the kitchen chair as hard as he can. It clatters to the ground. He pants. 

“Why me?” he says out loud to an empty room.

A few days later, he receives another phone call from the Forest Service. It wasn’t Mumbo, they tell him. The forensics team dated the remains to be far too old to be Mumbo’s, they say. They still don’t know who it is. The bones had been out there for years. Mumbo has only been missing for nine months. 

Grian doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief. He already knew it wasn’t going to be true. He just practices packing his backpack, and counts down the days until he leaves this city behind to find Mumbo for real.

[hashirun]

Grabe I lost count just how many times I cried while watching Tour de France Unchained on Netflix. The docuseries covers the 2022 edition of the Tour de France, the most prestigious and arguably the most difficult road cycling race in the world. It consists of 21 stages through three weeks of racing across France in all manner of terrain - from flat to hilly to mountain terrains.

As a spectator I've always found myself drawn to preternaturally gifted athletes - the biggest example would be my decade long obsession with Roger Federer - so it was only natural that for the past two years I've only had my eyes trained on Tadej Pogacar, the Slovenian wunderkind who burst into the scene in 2020 by winning the Tour de France on his first try. He successfully defended his title in 2021, and seemed all but certain to retain it as well in 2022, but the cycling gods apparently had other plans.

So through the entire course of last year's Tour de France my focus was on Tadej, how he lost the yellow jersey (worn by the general classification leader) to Jonas Vingegaard in stage 11 at the Col du Granon, and how he fought (but ultimately failed) to reclaim it in the succeeding stages.

Anyways so much for the long intro, I guess what I was trying to say is that Tour de France Unchained allowed me to witness other narratives at play during last year's Tour. It wasn't just about Tadej Pogacar, or the eventual winner Jonas Vingegaard and his superteam Jumbo Visma. Of course at the end of the grueling three week race it's still about who wins the general classification contest (finishing all 21 stages with the lowest combined time), but the docuseries allows its viewers to take an intimate look at the other teams and their riders. While the most important prize is the general classification, riders get to compete for individual glory everyday for 21 days through a stage win - who crosses the finish line first for the day's stage.

Aside from Tadej, my second favorite cyclist in last year's Tour was Wout van Aert, Jonas Vingegaard's teammate who won the points classification contest as well as the combativity award. He is, by his own right, a superstar - he's won a lot of races and is very electrifying to watch. So it came as no surprise to me when episode 2 put forward an intriguing narrative - Wout van Aert, wearing the yellow jersey on the strength of his brilliant performances for the first 3 stages, sprinting to stage 4 victory instead of waiting for and assisting his teammates Primoz Roglic and Jonas Vingegaard.

So what's wrong about going for the stage win? Well the thing is, there is a hierarchy in cycling teams, with the leader firmly on top, while the rest of the team are domestiques or secondary riders. The leader is the one who rides for general classification, while the domestiques' primary role is to support the leader. In Jumbo Visma's case, they appointed two leaders: Primoz Roglic and Jonas Vingegaard, while Wout van Aert was relegated the role of a domestique. Since the biggest objective of any team is to win the general classification, when the leader (who is gunning for general classification) is in a pickle then the domestique is expected to be there to bail him out.

As a star himself Wout always rides with pride. So it must've been somewhat difficult for him to strike a balance between riding for personal glory and riding for the team.

I also enjoyed the changing of guards narrative- at its center are INEOS Grenadier's Geraint Thomas, winner of the 2018 Tour de France and his battle for a 2022 podium finish, along with his young teammate Tom Pidcock and his exhilarating downhill attack to secure the stage 12 win.

But perhaps my favorite narrative in the docuseries will always be that of Jasper "Disaster" Philipsen, whose nickname was given to him by his teammates because of his bad luck in races. At the stage 4 finish line, Jasper wildly celebrated what he thought was a stage victory only to find out that it was Wout van Aert who crossed the line moments earlier in a solo breakaway that Jasper didn't notice. It was the kind of stuff memes are made of. Jasper redeems himself by winning stage 15 by outsprinting Wout himself - what a fitting comeback.

While these are my favorite narratives, I thoroughly enjoyed Tour de France Unchained as a whole. It reminded me that as one of the biggest cycling races in the world anything can happen at the Tour, and that the event will always be bigger than just a single person. Allez!

[jessepinwheel]

so how's padme doing? is she contacting a divorce lawyer yet?

well no not quite yet

The life of a private investigator isn't as exciting as a lot of people make it out to be from the holodramas. I make most of my paycheck looking things up in the Hall of Records for my colleagues, and when I'm not doing that, I'm usually waiting in my office and catching up on some light reading. Not a terrible way to spend a day, but not exactly a profitable one, either.

On this lazy afternoon, I was reorganizing my office--Bail had gotten tired of buying me more shirts, or realized there was a hard limit to how many of them I could wear, so he had started dropping hints that maybe my furniture was getting a little worn out. So I figured if an unsolicited gift was in my future, it might as well be something I actually needed. I was checking my cupboards when someone knocked on the door and entered.

"Detective," they said.

I turned to face my visitor. "Senator Amidala," I said. "Good afternoon. How are you?"

Amidala frowned. "You're not usually this polite to me."

I closed the cabinet. "You're in my office during business hours for what I must assume are professional reasons. I try to be polite to my clients when I can." I pulled up a chair. "Here, have a seat."

She sat. She was dressed down today, with a simple jacket and blouse and no jewelry--this far into the undercity that was probably for the best. She looked well-rested, but like she had something on her mind. A pretty big something, if she was willing to see me.

"Well," I said, taking the seat behind my desk, "you've come all this way. I take it you have some kind of job for me?"

Amidala nodded. "I've decided to go through with the divorce."

Oh. That was a surprise--it seemed like only yesterday she had thrown her drink at me for implying a marriage with a man who had attempted to kill me was maybe not completely beneficial. "My congratulations. But I'm not a lawyer or a divorce clerk and anything else is hardly my business."

"The last time we spoke, you gave me some advice," she said.

If I did, I certainly didn't recall. I'd been ill and slightly out of my mind at the time and everything about that evening up until I got back to my apartment and fell asleep on Bail's lap was kind of a blur. "You'll have to remind me."

"You told me that if I wanted to go through with this divorce, I should protect myself," Amidala said. "Well, I'm here to get some protection."

"I'm not a bodyguard," I replied.

"Not that kind of protection," Amidala said. "I need more...legal protection."

"I'm not a lawyer."

Amidala scowled. "I heard you the first time."

"Did you? Because so far, you haven't told me anything that's within my scope of practice that you would like me to do for you," I said. "In case you need reminding, I'm a private investigator. It even says so on that door you just walked through."

"I'm here because I need you to investigate something," Amidala said. "Or rather, I need you to collect evidence on something. Something that would be compelling in court if it comes down to it."

That...made things a little clearer. "Are you asking me to gather blackmail information for you?" I asked. "You are a woman with powerful political connections. Why do you think you need blackmail to get something as simple as a divorce to go through?"

"A no-fault divorce would be best, but I don't think he'll accept that," Amidala replied. "I'm sure we'll end up going to court. And I don't have time to stretch out proceedings--I want this divorce to happen as soon as possible. So I need a case against him."

"Dear, you don't need my help for that," I told her. "You can just talk to the former Captain Rex--I'm sure he'll be willing to testify about the incident where Skywalker nearly killed him, and me, and Ahsoka."

"I know. I'm planning to. But Anakin was altered at the time--it might not be strong enough of a case. I need something stronger, and that's where you come in."

I drummed my fingers on the desk. "What, Skywalker's done something worse than try to kill his own Padawan? The only thing courts would care more about than that would be actual murder."

There was an awkward pause as Amidala looked to the side.

My eyes narrowed. "No," I said. "He did?"

"Anakin told me they weren't people," Amidala said softly.

"They?" I asked. "He killed more than one?"

All in a rush, Amidala told me the sordid story. She told me about Tatooine, and trying to save Skywalker's mother from a tribe of indigenous people and failing, then taking their lives in payment for it. An entire people obliterated in a flash of blue plasma, a horrible anger and murderous rage that even I had difficult conceiving of.

"All of them, he said," Amidala told me. "Even the women and children. He was very explicit about that."

My stomach roiled. I felt ill, just thinking about it. I won't pretend I had much of an opinion of Skywalker to ruin, but this was beyond a simple murder or simple revenge. This was a slaughter. A massacre of innocents.

It wasn't as if I had never known anger--anger bad enough to kill someone for it. I'd killed a lot of people who probably didn't deserve it. But even in my darkest moments I could not imagine bringing myself to kill those who had not killed first. To look into a child's face and end their life with my bare hands for nothing more than some horrible and hollow emotional satisfaction.

I took a deep breath. "Senator Amidala. How long have you known about this?"

"Just over a year now," she said.

Just over a year. That put it before the war. Before she married Skywalker. "Are you telling me Skywalker confessed to you his massacre of an entire tribe of people, including innocent women and children, and your reaction was to marry him?"

Amidala pressed her lips together in displeasure. "That's not relevant to this conversation."

"No? You realize that Skywalker should be reported and tried, and that by concealing this knowledge, you've made yourself an accessory to his crimes, right?" I leaned over the desk. "I won't pretend to be a bastion of morality, Senator. But even I draw my lines somewhere and what Skywalker has done is far beyond anywhere my lines have ever been. Despite whatever you seem to think of me, I am a law-abiding citizen."

"You can't report what he's done to the authorities," Amidala said. "What he did was outside Republic jurisdiction--there's no court in the entire galaxy that could convict him, except perhaps Tatooine, and I'm sure they will find his story very sympathetic."

She was not wrong--the Republic cared little for crimes that occurred outside their borders. That didn't mean keeping quiet about everything, much less for as long as she had, had been the right thing to do. I found it hard to think of a less right thing to do--besides marrying the man, which Amidala had also done.

"So you think I should dig up information about it so you can drag it out in front of everyone in divorce court? What the hell do you think that's going to accomplish?" I demanded. "This is not a case of a tail job and some dirty photos because your husband has a side piece, this is a literal mass murderer. This is a man who reacts to things that upset him with extreme violence and you already know he won't take a divorce quietly. How is that safe?"

"I'm planning to leave immediately after the divorce. My handmaiden and I have made arrangements so Anakin can't get to me."

"Senator, I am not concerned about your safety. I am concerned about what the man who thinks murdering children is a reasonable form of collateral damage will do when the woman he's obsessed with divorces him and tells the whole world he's a murderer," I said. "I, for one, would like to prevent a similar tragedy from occurring in my own city."

"What? Anakin wouldn't do that, that would be--"

"Be what? Monstrous? Unbelievable? I agree," I told Amidala. "And yet here we are, discussing an equally monstrous and unbelievable atrocity." I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. "You clearly expect him to cause you some kind of harm--you wouldn't be in such a damn hurry to get away from him and make such a comprehensive escape plan otherwise. Let me be clear, I support you entirely. You should have done this a year ago when he first told you what he did, but you have rather missed the ship on that one. Fine. The second best time to take action is now, and you've asked for my help, so I'll help. I would like there to be no more casualties at your husband's hands, and I would especially like to not be one of them." I sighed. I could already feel a headache coming on--one that I knew would not subside for a very long time. "Tell me, Senator. What brought this on?"

Amidala frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The divorce. Now. It seems not so long ago you were happily married and perfectly willing to sit on Skywalker's murders. Now you've completely turned around to drag Skywalker's name through the dirt to claw your way into a divorce. Obviously some inciting incident occurred between now and then that made you reconsider how you felt about your husband." I rubbed my beard slowly. "Not some violence against you or someone close to you--you wouldn't have come here to confess his crimes to me if you had evidence like that ready at hand. Did Skywalker ask you for something you're not willing to give? Is there some kind of line he crossed, or you think he will cross when he learns a secret you're--"

Amidala slammed her hands on the desk. "That is enough! I am here to hire you, not to have you speculate about my marriage!"

So something had happened. Something Amidala knew would make things with Skywalker infinitely worse, something she cared about more than she loved Skywalker, something that required cutting contact immediately and for the foreseen future.

I couldn't think of too many good reasons that would fit those criteria. But I could think of one.

"So you are," I said. "You know my rates, I'm sure."

"I'll pay," Amidala said.

"It's not that simple," I told her. "I'm a Coruscant-based detective for several reasons, one of which is a significant medical condition. You're asking me to go out to Tatooine, which is outside my area of operations, and incidentally takes me away from my son, as well as the other jobs I do while in Coruscant. All that incurs a significant opportunity cost, and I find that I do not feel very charitable when I deal with you."

"Name your price," Amidala said. "I want this divorce to happen as soon as possible and I know you will get the job done properly. If that means paying extra, then fine."

I named my price. I won't pretend it was fair, and Amidala didn't like it, but she didn't argue with it, either.

"I'll need to stop by the bank to transfer that much," she told me.

"I don't need the whole thing up front," I replied. "I'll accept one week's retainer now, and collect the rest on completion."

"Fine."

She took her credit chip out of her purse. It was fortunate for her that she was the one in the relationship who handled the purse strings--I have met many people in similar situations who were not so lucky. She transferred the money to me without so much as a wince. Either she was richer than I had estimated, or she really needed my work that badly. Maybe both.

"Very good," I said. "I'll need to talk to some people to arrange for my absence, but I expect I can head for Tatooine tomorrow and work on coming up with a way to safely break your marriage. As for you..." I jotted down a name, address, and comm code on a card, then handed it to Amidala. "You might consider seeing this person."

Amidala looked at the card. "Who is this?"

"She's someone who has a lot of experience working with cases like yours," I said. "She won't care who you are or what your circumstances are, and she knows how to keep her mouth shut."

Amidala didn't like that. "What is this person going to do that you can't?"

"Well for one thing," I said, "I'm not a gynecologist."

[cresneta]

On the off chance anyone is looking for ideas on how to spruce up the Yor cosplay they bought online I thought I'd post about some the modifications to the ones I wore to a con not too long ago. Mind you, this isn't about to turn into a cosplay account and I'm not planning on posting a full picture of me in either costume.

For the battle dress, as many of fondly refer to it as, I personally didn't care for the charm that it came with and ended up replacing it with a pendent that I found on Etsy. For this, you just need the pendent, a pair of scissors, and a needle and thread. You may also be able to find something at your local craft store that is closer to what she actually wears or possibly 3D orint something if rusts your thing.

This cosplay came with black stockings that are meant to be worn with shoes of a similar material. I used several coats of red acrylic paint on the bottom of the shoes that I wore for this and sealed it witg several coats of Modge Podge to help it last longer. If you do this, I recommend taking a bit more care witg tge masking tape that I did. For this part you just need red acrylic paint, a brush, masking tape, something to protect the surface you're working on, and some Modge Podge or other sealant. I propped the shoes up like that by putting drinking glasses inside them.

It's a small enough detail that I bet most people saw me missed, but I personally enjoyed having it. Here's what the soles of the shoes look like before and after walking around all day at a con:

The only thing I modified on the red outfit was the headband as I didn't care for the buttons that it came with and the ribbon that was used to tie it in place wasn't as close to being screen accurate as I'd like. While this still isn't perfect, I am happier with it than how it was originally. That being said, it is easier to put on with the ribbon than the elastic cord so that particular modification may not be worth it. If you're looking online for this sort of button, it's called a shank button.

As you can probably guess from the photos, for these modifications you just need a needle, thread, scissors, and an elastic cord that can be found in the jewelry section of your local craft store.

Just thought I'd make this post in case it helps anyone. It's really not hard to buy a Yor cosplay online, at least if you're in the US, and they're actually not that expensive. I wouldn't call them cheap either - they do cost more and are better quality than the sorts of costumes you can buy at th supermarket in the US during spooky season, but it's not as much more as you might expect.

Also, if you opt to get red contacts be sure to be careful about where you get them from and do talk to an eye doctor first. I've seen some horror stories out there about people seriously damaging their eyes by using bad contacts. I used Gothika lens which are FDA approved and have just a slightly different base curve than I'm used to.

(Also, I recommend picking up fashion tape to help things like the black stockings stay in place as well as the bandau for the red outfit if you've had similarly bad luck with finding one that fits)

[sustainably-du-mortain]

3, 9, and 19 for Jonah for the nsfw asks, if you want to share! I love him haha and I hope you’re having a wonderful day 🥰💙

Hope you're having an amazing day too! <3 answer below the cut in case people don't want to see

3. Quickies vs Planned sex—thoughts?

He's up for both. He loves the spontaneity of quickies but very much likes taking his time, especially with people he's in a relationship with. He's much more likely to go for quickies on one-night stands. When in a relationship though, he likes quickies as a kind of foretaste to planned sex, like the morning/day before.

But he also really likes planned sex, because it gives them the opportunity to discuss trying out new things.

9. What's their favorite way to get in the mood? How do they set the mood?

TEASING!! Jonah is already a touchy person on a daily basis, but when he wants to set the mood, the touch becomes a bit more persistent and carefully placed to tease his partners.

But he also gets more teasing in his behavior. I have this particular headcanon, I don't think I've shared it here before, but when they got out, to a bar or something similar, Jonah sometimes flirts with other guys (it's all consensual with A and N, they've discussed it, Jonah can flirt as long as it does not go further, not that he would want it to go further anyways). So Adam and Nate just let him have fun, because Jonah is a confident flirt and it's kinda hot. It gets a little more interesting when Jonah purposefully makes eye contact with them while flirting with other guys because he knows what they think when he does that. He plays on Adam's jealous side and Nate's overprotectiveness to rile them up a little bit.

So yeah, Jonah becomes an awful tease when he's in the mood.

But the teasing also works on him. How many times did Nate rile him up by teasing him a little too much.

19. When they “dress-up” for sex, what’s their go-to outfit? Lingerie, suit, gown, etc.?

His typical dressing-up outfits is a suit, and it definitely enters the category of 'outfits I hope are going to get me laid' for Jonah. The one difference between dressing-up for an event and dressing-up with sex in mind is that the shirt will be tighter. He's making the buttons work real hard.

Another adjustment he makes to the suit is a vest corset. He knows it brings out his broad shoulders a little more and that it's flattering on him. Although this is 'ot something he does often.

When he's being less subtle about his intentions, he loves to wear really revealing clothes. Crop top, sheer fabric, open back, boob window. Name it, he's probably worn it. Best reference I have for that kind of clothing is Wonho, and particularly his stage outfits (see below).

And underneath it all, there is sometimes a leather harness.

Lastly, as I said above, he's not against trying out new stuff, so he's not above wearing something his partners want to see him in.

A little moodboard of his 'hoping to get laid outfits':

nsfw asks

[lovedetlost]

Rant ahead:

I saw your post about clothing and I aspire to be like you. I have so many clothes I don’t wear but I’m so afraid to alter them cause in the past when I’ve tried I always ruin it haha.

Also I am becoming more aware and think I am kind of a hoarder (idk if that’s the right word) because it’s not the stereotypical hoarder you think of where they can’t throw away anything and are usually messy. I on the other hand can get rid of things I know are dirty or trash, and I am my very clean and organized, but it’s getting harder to be because I just have so much stuff that I know I don’t need but feel like I (or someone else) spent money on it, I should keep it. And I’m always like what if one day comes where I need/want it? This is definitely a big thing for clothes and shoes but also like I have all my notebooks/ assignments from years ago that realistically I will probably never need again, but then I freak out cause what if I actually do need it.

BABY YOU ARE ME!!! okay i was never a thrifter and an alterer, it's a recent hobby out of pure necessity. but you have to take the plunge! start small, crop a jumper that sits on you funny, add a contrast stitch, shorten a dress. and then as you feel more comfortable and understand the machinations of it branch out, bring in a dress to fit your body shape, buy a larger size skirt and attempt to bring it in. BUT FOR YOUR FIRST MAJOR ALTER BUY A CHEAP CHEAP THING FROM A CHARITY SHOP THAT YOU'RE NOT EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED TO. also youtibe or tiktok it. that's been a huge huge help god bless the internet haha

honey i am a maximalist through and through. more is more. i want knick knacks, keepsakes, every piece of clothing i've ever worn in case i fall back in love with it. every notebook i've ever touched, i have multiple copies of my favourite books, and if i like something, i want it in ever colour. marie kondo says if it doesn't bring you joy bail on it, but it all brings me joyyyyy.

i also do not plan on changing that i am proud of my ability to make a building/space feel comfortable, feel like a home. i find rooms without personality a red flag. so be proud of it baby. be proud of you.

[ohcanadashop]

Tips For Choosing Travel Clothes || OhCanadaShop

It's difficult to pack for a trip, especially if you want to bring only a few things. In order to ensure that you bring the appropriate items on your trip and prevent overpacking, each piece of travel apparel you pack must be pertinent. Follow these guidelines to decide what clothes are appropriate for a vacation with a variety of destinations, activities, and climates, and pack lightly with TFG!

Does it function in various circumstances?

Exploring a city's attractions is one of the things that make traveling fun. Your clothes need to be functional in a range of venues, including restaurants and nightclubs as well as treks and temples. Choose vacation attire that is fashionable but not extremely revealing to be on the safe side. A low neckline cannot be worn almost everywhere, but a maxi dress can. Although a button-up blouse is adaptable, it may be overly revealing if it is too translucent. Even if they are lovely, short shorts can be too short. Always bring clothes that are appropriate for accessing places of worship or visiting less popular tourist destinations. Check out this article on Stylish Options for Respectful Dress on ohcanadashop.com

Can I utilize it more than once?

Everything you carry should be multipurpose. An item can fulfill multiple purposes without having to be a "convertible" piece. Think about these instances: In principle, convertible pants make perfect sense because they are a 2-in-1. However, they are frequently unflattering, which discourages many females from wearing them. It's preferable to discover something stylish and useful, like these excellent travel pants! If you don't like something, why pack it? A seductive cocktail dress would be fantastic just in case you are invited somewhere very fancy, but for maximum adaptability, bring a more adaptable alternative that can be worn up or down.

Is it enduring?

Think about the lifespan of a piece of clothing you wear at home. Even cheap clothing can last for years if only worn rarely. However, due to frequent use and different washing techniques when you travel, your clothes put in extra work and their lifespan may be shortened. While it's necessary to bring sturdy travel apparel, keep in mind that after a while everyone gets bored of wearing the same thing over and over again. Choose things with a price tag you are comfortable foregoing but that won't fall apart after a few washes.

Does this require a lot of room in my bag?

Consider how much space you need before you buy something or choose something from your own closet. If it's particularly large, you might want to bring something smaller. The secret is to layer your clothing, even in frigid locations. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't pack it if it can be worn regularly and goes well with many of your other options for travel attire. For instance, jeans can be bulky and hefty, but the advantages greatly exceed the drawbacks. Even bulkier goods like pants and coats can be compressed using packing organizers, but try to pick lighter items that you can layer if necessary.

Will drying time be excessive?

Quick-drying clothing fabrics are advantageous because they tend to pack lighter and are simple to wash when you're continuously moving. The mere presence of "quick dry" cloth on a label does not guarantee that it will function. The same is true for everyday apparel; just because it isn't designed for travel doesn't imply the fabric won't dry rapidly. You'd be shocked at how much of your current wardrobe dry quickly. Check it out! The majority of your clothing should be able to dry fast if you plan to bring less than 10 pieces because your options will be more constrained.

Does it complement the other vacation attire I've chosen?

It's crucial to make the most of your vacation wardrobe because there aren't many clothing options. Plan to wear interchangeable clothing and choose each item extremely carefully. Check to see if your items can be worn in a variety of ways and experiment with the numerous combinations that may be created with your selections. You can avoid overpacking in addition to being well-prepared by selecting complimentary items and making early plans for travel ensembles.

From our Basics range, which is made in Montreal, buy adults t-shirt online in Canada. from XL to 3XL sizes are available. Enjoy the comfort of locally produced clothing. The Montreal-based company also makes adult T-shirts.

To reach us out in offline mode do not forget to visit

Oh Canada Shop

Suite 263, 12-16715 Yonge St, Newmarket, Ontario, CANADA

Postal Code: L3X1X4

Email: info@OhCanadaShop.com

Visit Our Website- https://www.ohcanadashop.com/

[be-it-so]

The last one is just so good.

It also suits so well in one wonderful post I read about how Odysseus and Diomedes mirror each other and how their stories are opposite in their directions.

For the next part, I am very unsure, so let me call this headcanons because the more i reread this, the more i doubt, and continue.

I've quickly looked through the illiad with the word search and checked every time Odysseus or Diomedes were compared to boar, and there is one thing. Diomedes is compared to a boar in situations when he is attacking people with his rage and strength. while Odysseus is compared to boar when he is surrounded by many foes willing to kill him, just like the boar is surrounded by dogs and people during hunt.

So Diomedes is being boar when he is the one acting when he is attacking when he is the one with initiative while Odysseus is being boar when he can't use his usual ways to escape a situation.

let me explain what i mean.

Being boar for Diomedes is something he "wears" just as his father's armor, just as his legacy, it is his role in this war (and not only trojan). He was forced to be this boar-like warrior to honor his father to be worth him.

While Odysseus's role in Trojan War is different. he is not known and valued the most for his strength (he is wonderful warrior but we can agree that it isn't his "main thing") he is so important for greeks because of his mind, his wits, his plans and etc. So when he is represented as a boar, it is not something he is forced or used to do. It is not a role he is playing to escape this situation. It is just about who he is in this situation.

And there is something in this how Odysseus' connection to boar (comparisons or his scar) is something defining himself without his acting and how Diomedes' connection with boar is his main act.

(Also, an interesting thing i noticed is how it is usually greeks who are compared with boars while trojans called like this a lot more rare and they are a lot often compared to hounds before boar hunt)

And about your question about armor. The closest thing i found is this:

"...Then too remember the enameled cuirass worn by Diomedes, crafted by Hephaistos."

It's book VIII when Hector is encouraging trojans to follow greeks while Diomedes and Nestor are retreating. It does not directly state that it is Tydeus armor, but we know that Tydeus had Hephaestus' cuirass with boar image it's not like Hephaestus is giving away his work to any hero. So it can be a source of this.

But it is still strange considering that Diomedes and Glaukos in book VI exchanged armor, and Homer is even making fun of Glaukos for giving away his expansive armor for Diomedes' cheap one:

"...But Zeus had stolen Glaukos’ wits away— the young man gave up golden gear for bronze, took nine bulls’ worth for armor worth a hundred!"

And it is very unlikely for Homer to say this if Diomedes' armor was made by god. Maybe these two are talking about different parts of armor, considering "gear" is a more general concept. But i guess in this case it is better to look into greek text.

odydio and boar parallels

good morning evening and night folks i have been pondering THIS for 12 hours straight and after writing what. appears to be a beautiful essay in my words doc i’ve just decided to throw all my thoughts at the wall instead. love that essay but it is becoming so very well-written academic work and i am so deeply unserious online.

anyways. on the subject of odysseus and diomedes and their shared boar vibes. the thing i kept coming back to was how boars were fucking TERRIFYING in ancient greece. to the point where the calydonian boar hunt (essentially just 30 dudes rocking up to kill a divine pig*) is a whole Event its a whole Heroic Tale. because you think 30 dudes can get that boar without a scratch WRONG two guys die and peleus stabs some other dude in the confusion. boars are ruthless and frankly overpowered as fuck little bastards in ancient greece and of the four i can think of with names at least TWO of them had divine origins somehow (calydonian and crommyonian).

and honestly? ruthless, terrifying as fuck, difficult for a horde of men to stop let alone some guy? got some nebulous relationship to the gods that give you strength? holy shit thats tydeus right there babey. he kills like 49 guys and sends the other one home as a warning. he literally gets married off of Boar Vibes dude. its his whole personality.

and so obviously diomedes, whose entire job for ten years is Bring Honor To Dead Father, is like well shit! time to adopt the whole boar vibe! i mean he’s literally compared to a boar in book V with unending strength truly he is the boar guy junior. he fights hordes of thebans/calydonians/trojans without resting, he cuts down hundreds of men without mercy, he gets athenas favor and despite how well he plays the part he is so tired. he’s ruthless, but does he want to be? he’s skilled in battle, but has he known anything else? he’s favored by the gods, but did he ever have a choice in that?

meanwhile odysseus. odysseus who is scarred by the boar he hunted as a child on his thigh. escaped what is otherwise certain death. marked so deeply by an animal so connected to divine rage that it transcends even athena’s disguise. it is this scar, that proved him equal in combat to that boar, that identifies him to his friends and family. that helps him retake his house and throne. just. the scar itself cements odysseus’ mortality but it also transcends any attempt at concealing who he is.

anyways putting all these thoughts together. i think that for diomedes the boar symbolism is something that doesn’t quite fit. its something that stretches and aches, like an old shirt thats too tight, because its not indicative of him its indicative of tydeus. but tydeus died at thebes, and diomedes has to live up to his legacy, so he tries regardless and it never quite feels right. meanwhile odysseus fights tooth and nail to survive, even when he’s surrounded like a boar by hunters and their dogs. sacks cities and kills hundreds of men and for all the help he gets from the immortal gods, odysseus remains wholly mortal. maybe the real disguise is how diomedes is the one scarred and odysseus is the boar, but neither of them look it.

[wimble-warcrime]

Call Me Alpha - part one

Synopsis: Ever since you were little, you rejected anything omega related. So imagine what it feels like to have your worst fears come true. Step one to your two step plan to a happy life is in cinders, and the next best thing is suppressants and enough cologne to let everyone in a 5 mile radius know you're the most obnoxious alpha to ever walk the earth. Still, some good things can come of this, right...?

Pairing: Alpha!Bukugou Katsuki x Omega! NB Reader

Warnings: readers has a deep set hatred for their second gender; lots of angst; descriptions of gender dysphoria; deku is widely disliked; reader is actually capable of making decisions(no weak omegas in the Christian household); suppressant sickness; descriptions of death.

Author Notes: this is not the first fanfic I've written, but it won't be the last. Here's hoping I can actually finish it this time! Let me know what you think, and if you want to beta the rest of the chapters!

Hc's | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ever since you were little, you'd rejected any kind of activity, behavior and style related to being an omega.

In preschool and kindergarten, you'd worn shorts and overalls, insisted that your hair was short, gone mock hunting with the other 'alpha' kids in your class. You'd play with Legos, and lament of how you would build cool inventions for heroes one day.You refused to wear dresses, play with dolls, play house or grow your hair long.

Your father was fine with this, he, like most parents, knew that the way a child acted before their turning was indicative of their second gender after turning. He'd expected you'd be a strong and dependable alpha, just like your teacher at the time.

Everyone who met you as a young child expected you to be an alpha, after all, you were the most aggressive of your age group. All the 'omegas' insisted you be their alpha, some even going as far as to try and court you. You rejected them. Refusing to associate with anything omega related.

As the years went by, more and more people, including yourself, expected you to present as an alpha, and when the end of middle school rolled around, people were surprised you hadn't presented yet, most of you classmates having turned already, save a few. Notably the obnoxious and stutteringly shy Midoriya Izuku. You insisted you were a late bloomer, and they believed you.

Then on the last day of school for the year, everyone was surprised that you started to smell like an omega. You dismissed these inquiries, stating that your beta father had recently gotten a new omega boyfriend, and you'd finally let him scent you last night. Only for, at the last hour of class, your tuning began; at first it was a wave of heat, like some had opened a hot oven into you face; then it was cold sweats, you were shivering almost imperceptibly but sweating so much you'd been sent off to the nurses office.

There, your worst fear had been realised: your symptoms aligned with an omegan heat. If you were an alpha, you would have lashed out at any one even looking at you weird, and then started growling at any alphas when they got to close. At least, that was the case for the school bully, who  happened to share a row with you, Bakugou Katsuki. He'd snapped and snarled so much, that the teacher had to call his parents and restrain him until they arrived to pick him up.

The nurse consoled you as your heat progressed to the final stage. The first heat an omega experiences is usually an hour to two long, and is relatively tame compared to the second heat, which comes at the age of 16. The nurse complimented you on your sweet new smell, stating that you smelled of elderberry and morning glory. "A tamer, more subtle omegan smell than most," but still distinct in it sweetness.

She go on to list all of the benefits of being an omega; you would find a nice alpha,  maybe a beta even, and go one to have many pups after you'd mated and bonded with them. If your alpha allowed it you could continue working after pups or even after being mated.

Of course, all of these things had been explained to you; but you considered them to be negatives. Why would you want to settle for being a weak, submissive, simple minded omega  when you could be an engineer. Your dream job was to design and build support gear for heroes; and since your quirk was one that aligned with the necessary skills needed for said job, who were you to pet some big alpha take it all away from you?

No, the second your father came rushing into the school infirmary, you'd thrown yourself into his chest, and cried. He'd be shocked to scent you and find the smell of an omega mixed in with your scent. He pulled you to his chest, and carried you out to his car. Once secured in the passenger seat, you lamented to him your fears of omenganhood and how it was the worst thing that could ever have happened to you.

He was shocked to hear such things, never once had you bad mouthed omeganhood, but he knew you preferred more alphan mannerisms. When asked as to why you saw your newly acquired second gender, seeing as your biological mother was omegan, your response horrified him;

"She died, remember?" Between sniffles and stray tears, you continued; "You said she was weak, too weak to survive. It's because she was an omega. She was weak and stupid and she died. If she was an alpha or a beta, she would have survived." You, clearly, didn't see anything wrong with your response, and while you weren't wrong, it was abhorrent that you would equate omegas as weak and simple minded.

He stayed silent on this drive home, contemplating what to say to your feelings of omeganhood. By the time he'd unlocked the house, you stopped crying, and beelined to your room, school bag left forgotten at the door.

He heard you crying up in you room, and he felt sick as he played over the confession you'd attested to. He made dinner, well, really he heated up leftover curry that the neighbour's young boy had given him; spicy chicken katsu. He and his father had made too much, but he had a feeling that really, he fancied you. And based off of the sticky note that you discarded in the trash, you didn't quite feel the same. He watched you that day, peel off the sticky note, and with out bothering to read it, tossed it in the rubbish bin and dug into the curry.

He was grateful at least one person in the house liked spicy food, because an was it hot. He served himself a fried egg and rice, cut up a plate of fruit and headed off to you room with the plate and bowl in his hands.

He set the food on the floor outside and knocked, letting you know that your dinner was on the other side. He knew there was no point in trying to persuade you to join him for dinner; you'd always stay in your room to draw up blue prints for new gear designs. So he wandered back down the stairs, huddled up on the couch and watch the latest k-drama while he ate his food.

Back upstairs, you'd gingerly opened your door to find a steaming bowl of spicy chicken curry and rice, along with a plate of sliced mangoes and strawberries; your favorite fruit. You pulled the plates up off the floor and kicked the closed as you wandered over to you desk.

A sudden urge to draw up some quirk enhancing equipment for an alpha in your class had seized you and despite your hatred for your neediness to please said alpha, your dominant human brain could agree that the designs were very good.  As you scribbled into night, you munched on your dinner, thanking whoever made your dinner that it was so spicy; you needed something to distract from the immense amount of emotional heartache you were experiencing. Soon it was eight p.m, and you could feel your eyes growing tired. Eight turned into nine, and nine to ten. By midnight, you were slumped over your desk, empty bowl and plate discarded on the table adjacent.

You father crept into your room after not getting a response to knocking. There he saw you asleep at you desk, clearly worn out from such an eventful day. He placed a throw over you shoulders flicked off the desk lamp, grabbed the dirtied dishes and headed down to wash them.

He contemplated on how he could cure your hatred for you second gender. You were old enough now to go on suppressants, especially now that you'd presented, but the amount of horrific side effects that omegas suffered from due to extended use was deplorable; that was also why your mother had died. A weakened immune system mixed with one too many cold winters, and she died to a cold. He was also one of the scientists who had disagreed with the patenting of the drug, due to its deplorable side effects.

He figured that putting you on  suppressants for now, while he figured out a way to further develop them wouldn't hurt you too much. They would help to prolong your omegan development. Maybe if a doctor signed off on it, you may be eligible for secondary gender change. But the procedure was risky, and rarely ever a doctor signed off.

He had hope that he would be able to further develop the suppressants to be more masking of your omegan nature than to erase it completely. Find a way to change your scent somehow as well. He'd have to talk to you later about it, but seeing as you were on summer break, he'd have plenty of time to discuss at length the future of your secondary gender.

For now he laid in bed restless, eager yet hesitant to go forward with his idea

All Rights Reserved

[genderqueerdykes]

same guy with the chest thing again, can confirm i've fallen asleep in my binder on accident, ik i'm not supposed to but sometimes i'm literally just that tired that i pass out on accident, also yeah i do plan on keeping nipples, i don't think they're all that damaged tbh (bc i can still feel things on them when i don't want to) despite having only ever worn sports bras before getting a binder, on one hand i don't like how sensitive they are and want it reduced but on the other hand i'm wondering if i'll enjoy that more when my chest isn't so fatty

Continued:

shit i also forgot to mention that i pretty much never bind if i'm not out in public bc i like being comfortable and breathing and sleeping whenever i feel like it sorry if you actually thought i was wearing a binder almost 24/7

i feel you there! when i was in middle school i wore sports bras and after a while i was wearing 2 loose ones at a time to help pull things in tighter before i knew what a binder was, and i'd fall asleep in that all the time without realizing. sometimes it's second nature to have it on like that

don't worry, i didn't think your case was that severe! to me it sounded like you do a pretty average/healthy level of binding. it's good that you're not seeing any kind of nerve or tissue damage, if you don't bind while you're at home that's very good, it's important to get time out of there just so your body can breathe.

"heavy" binding usually constitutes using methods that aren't recommended at all like ace bandages, and doing so for very long periods of time. i've known trans men who even shower in their binders, and i definitely get the dysphoria, but like i said you need time out of there so your body isn't being contorted.

i think you should be fine, it sounds like you're in an okay place with it to where you should be able to approach surgery down the road when you're ready with minimal issues =) i hope you're able to get there soon and that that goes well for you! take care of yourself, and good luck in your journey! feel free to come back any time we're always here to help

[thatgirlforever5]

Sneaking Away

Title: Sneaking Away

Theme: Cocoa (Day 9)

Fandom/Characters: AEW, Ricky Starks x Reader

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 748

@12daysofchristmas @thunderkiss86

Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her coworkers mingling about the Rhodes' household. 

Wearing a glitzy dress, listening to cliche Christmas music, and socializing with people she saw literally every week on her day off was not what she had planned, but she couldn't turn down Brandi's invitation. 

She had formed a good friendship with Cody when he took her under his wing, giving her a place to train at the Nightmare Factory. And naturally, Brandi had quickly filled a "big sister" role in Y/N's life. 

"Really loving the whole cocktail dress with sneakers look you got going on here" Ricky joked, slipping into place next to her. 

She looked down at her Converse and shrugged, "I've never worn heels before in my life, and I wasn't about to start now." 

"How'd you get Brandi's blessing?" He asked with a smirk, knowing first hand how her overpowering nature usually resulted in her having the final decision in most cases. 

"We compromised. I agreed to wear whatever dress she picked, and she got to approve my shoe choice" She grinned, earning a chuckle and shake of his head from Ricky. 

"Well you look beautiful as always" He winked. 

"Thank you, and you're looking pretty snazzy yourself" Y/N laughed softly, approving of his usually sophisticated attire. 

"I always do Baby." He joked, popping his collar. "Are you enjoying this party so far?" He looked over at her, knowing social settings like the one they were currently attending wasn't high-up on her list of things she liked. 

"It's okay I guess?" She shrugged, "I just feel like I don't belong here, even though I work with everyone. It's hard to explain." Y/N crossed her arms. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Ricky assured her softly, noticing how uncomfortable she was. 

He thought for a moment as they both stood in a comfortable silence. He pushed off the counter, an idea in mind. 

"Go grab a seat outside by the pool, I'll meet you out there in a few minutes" He instructed her. 

"Why?" Y/N raised a brow in confusion. 

"Brandi's busy playing host, she's not gonna notice if we're mingling or not. So let's step away for a little bit" He shrugged. 

Y/N thought for a moment and nodded, "Alright Starks, I'll go along with your plan. But if Brandi comes looking for us, I'm blaming you." 

"Fine" He rolled his eyes, gently nudging her towards the entry of the kitchen to get her moving. 

Y/N did as she was told and found a quiet spot out by the pool. One of the nice things about being in Atlanta was the nice weather in late December. There was a slight nip of cold in the air, but it wasn't miserable. 

About 5 minutes later Ricky joined her, a light throw blanket draped over his shoulder and two mugs in hand. 

He handed one of the mugs to her before easing himself down next to her on the chaise lounge. 

"I brought the blanket in case you got cold" He draped the blanket over her bare legs. 

"Aww, such a gentleman" Y/N teased with a soft smile. 

"Always." He winked, sipping his drink. 

"Where'd you get the cocoa from?" She asked, her hands wrapped around the warm mug as she swirled it's contents around. 

"I practically live here, I know where Brandi keeps all the good stuff" Ricky laughed. 

The two sat in a peaceful silence for a few moments, sipping their cocoa and listening to the faint Christmas music that spilled out from the house. 

"So why are you out here with me instead of partying it up inside?" Y/N broke the silence, running her finger along the edge of the ceramic mug. 

"Because you're my best friend and I would choose drinking hot chocolate with you over sipping champagne with our coworkers any day" Ricky smiled, throwing his arm over her shoulders to pull her into him. 

"You sure do know how to make a girl feel special Starks" she smiled softly, looking up at him. 

"I'll always do anything to make sure you feel special Y/N." He smiled, ruffling her hair and earning an elbow to the ribs in return. 

"Such a charmer" Y/N laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

"And don't you forget it" Ricky joked, clinking his mug against hers as the two sat underneath the twinkle lights of the Rhodes' Home. 

[fragilcline]

MEI MOVED TO GRAB THE SEATBELT only to be met with white feathers that instead got in the way, leading her to struggle with the elastic band that had left a pink indent on her shoulder by this time of night. "I don't plan on wearing it again, if that's what you're asking. I planned on donating it back. I suppose not anymore." Struggling to pull her arm out of it, the elastic eventually snapped instead, causing her to jump a bit, but the wing did fall lopsided, allowing her to grab the seatbelt. "I don't think fabric is part of a raccoon's diet." The quick start to their drive home took her by surprise as she turned around as much as possible in the passenger seat to look back at the mansion, watching people spill out of it. She had made herself at home in the living room earlier in the night and chose to stay in the quieter room with her solitude. Plus, the alcohol was making her a bit too tired to feel like wandering back around the party or search a friend out of a crowd. It wasn't discernible how long she had been there when she heard screams coming from other places in the mansion. It could've been a show or someone spooked by a decoration. But Mei had heard a lot of screams before. Ones that could only be born of pure terror. Maybe it had been her frazzled emotions that already had her on edge, but it made her need to leave at that moment as she bit her nails the entire time Mindy was on their way there. She sat back down in the seat of the car, sparing a glance at her driving friend as she considered mentioning it. It could've been nothing. It was a Halloween party, of course there would be screams. Don't freak out again. "You could've worn whatever you dressed up as anyway; there were no display cases. But I understand what you mean about it being fun. I would hardly consider it my idea of fun, either." The last part was mumbled as if she was coming to terms with it herself, even if Mei had tried to put on a facade of enjoying herself while there. A sigh left her lips as regrets about even going circled in her core, even if she knew time would have passed even more slowly if it were spent in the RV alone. Even if it weren't for the phone calls, the artist honestly wasn't even used to being in the mobile home very often before earlier that month. "And how did these important plans go?" Certainly it had to be extra important for Mindy to label them as such, and her own curiosity provided a good distraction from...everything. "I'm not really-" But then the bucket was dropped in her lap, resilience only lasting a few moments before she was poking through the candy, which conveniently gave her a way to avoid Mindy's eyes should they leave the road. "I don't want to tell you because you know them, and I'm afraid of what you'll say," was her answer to the question, which technically didn't break the rule as it wasn't a lie. Finding a fun sized Twix candy, she pulled off the wrapper and took a small bite of the chocolate, caramel, and cookie. Despite not being a very good liar, Mei thought she had been hiding her emotions pretty well from her roommates or at least giving it a good attempt. Locking herself in her room wasn't a very odd thing for her to do before, and it was long ago when she had mastered crying softly enough that no one could hear. But it must've not been enough. "I've just been having a tough time recently." It was an understatement, but at least it was vague.

Descrying the fumble in her footsteps from miles away, the former arsonist was already leaning across the console to open the passenger side door when Mei practically flung herself into the grass. Their eyes widened, peering over the window and waiting for them to stand vigilantly before they insisted, "Let go of the door." Pushing it open an inch, mocha hues were studious of their roommate's well-being as she tumbled into the seat, they dusted a hand over the soiled dress. "I'll drown in dish soap later. It'll come right out. Or I can feed this old thing to the racoons. It doesn't matter to me." White weddings had never rung appeal to Mindy, after all. What use was a thousand-dollar garb that would only be used once? They found that white dress for twenty bucks at the Broom Closet... even if that still hadn't incentivized the fortune teller to pay for it! Though they were riding a wave of elation after their date with Mio, they couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling turning their stomach — It didn't seem right. Without another word, they shifted the gear into drive and beat it out of the mansion's parking lot, eyes darting between the road and Mei beside them. "Ugh," their lip curled, repulsed at the thought of a boozy party filled with drunkards falling over themselves amid a pompous monologue and puking up pastries, "You know big parties aren't my thing. Just because I like to club, being shoved around by a bunch of sweaty bodies doesn't mean I want to be dressed up like I'm a display case. Sorry, not really my idea of fun, Meis." Turning out of the estates without looking in the rearview, ignoring the unsettled contents in their gut, they shook their head. "I had more important plans tonight. And I had more fun spending the first half of the night with Ash, to be honest. I got a shitton of candy if you're hungry —" Their arm reached around the backseat, hoisting up the McDonalds bucket and shoving it into Mei's lap. "Who were you trying to avoid? And don't lie, you've been acting all kinds of weird."