#this is the one (1) place i can post this without shame or judgement let me have it

[piccolomostri]

quick cartoony cooldown sketch of the baddies in some 90s goth fits i saved a long time ago

unrelated actual drawing under the cut for Reasons [🔞 ] you have been Warned :

[magellanicclouds]

Are you by chance a fire fighter? Your last post said some things that got me really curious.

I’m a Hotshot! ‘ U ‘ More specifically, I am what’s known as a Crew Boss, a Firefighter Type 1, and am a Paramedic as well, though medical experience is not required or expected in Wildland fire service; this is a hold-over from my previous work in city Fire. I make use of my license again off-season.

Anon, you’re one of three others to ask me this actually, and instead of repeating three posts, I’ll put it all together in this one.Long story short, I started as a Firefighter-EMT over 20 years ago and upgraded to a Paramedic license after about a year on. Working in a big city department, we’d respond to many more medicals than fires, but still I spent time on both a rescue (ambulance) and an engine interchangeably. I stayed with Fire for over a decade and a half, moving across three different states before eventually leaving it and switching to Wildland. I started out on a Type 2 IA handcrew for a year before becoming a Hotshot, and got my CRWB the following season.  To be clear, transition from Structural to Wildland is not normal, and a lot of people looked down on me, criticizing my judgement. Municipal/Structural Fire is a career track, while Wildland is a primarily seasonal position; functionally, the two are also totally different. I took a major pay-cut and lost many of my previous benefits. I’d prefer not to discuss the ‘why’, so lets just say that after 17 years of endurance, I couldn’t keep pushing down the disappointment of dealing with city Fire's typical 'culture' of loud “A-type” personalities, and all the ugliness that can come with that.

Wildland is another world. There is no friction from gender or ethnicity or sexuality. No "body-standards" shaming anyone without a washboard tummy. Any bloated egos either humble very quickly in the face of a kilometer tall fire whirl, or they die for it. Our only real standards are that everyone can handle their jobs, respects the danger, and looks out for one another. Hotshot crews train together as a family unit. We eat together, sleep together, sweat and bleed together. We don't make a lot pay-wise, but it's enough to get by.  For most departments, Wildland firefighting is fully “seasonal” work, beginning with weeks of training and conditioning in preparation for several months long away from home, working on multiple fires. But climate change has effected the timing, duration, and intensity of fire seasons all across the globe, turning a typical six month deployment into seven or even eight months with very little downtime on active fires across our local regions, neighboring states, and sometimes even across other countries and continents. There are also some unique departments like mine, that stay in service to the community once the season has ended. We continue maintenance of wilderness zones, and offer free labour, education and outreach, assist in conservation efforts, and some of us work in local Fire/EMS. It’s hard, physically and mentally demanding, and very dangerous work, but I think I've not been so happy in years as I am now.  And honestly, all the people who swore I was making a mistake when I uprooted my old life had never taken the time to really know me in the first place. 

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Wei Wuxian and Chinese Virtues of 忠孝仁义

There’s a lot of conversation about Wei Wuxian and how he struck out on his path without a concern for the Jiangs; about how he’s reckless and not giving a sh*t about his role within his society; about how he had a family and siblings and threw it all away for his sense of right and wrong. But the way I read his actions is within the context of the virtues of 忠孝仁义 (and how the virtues, especially 义, is ingrained in him via the Jiang sect motto). WWX’s major decisions can all be read as him acting in accordance with one or more of these virtues. Even when WWX is being his most irreverent self (and yes he’s rude and bring about a lot of second hand shame) he still remembers the we-self (to borrow from baoshan-sanren’s post) context as the head disciple of the Jiang Sect. Even when he seems to abandon everything, he didn’t abandon his understanding of these virtues. 

First of all, let’s talk about 忠. 忠 (zhōng) is loyalty, devotion, fidelity. I usually associate the concept with loyalty towards your country but it can be applied to other units too. In the case of CQL where we don’t see an Emperor or country, it would only make sense that this concept be applied to either a person (e.g. SuShe at JGY) or a sect. 

Tangent, feel free to skip: An (maybe THE) embodiment of this virtue is 岳飞 (Yue Fei), one of THE MOST famous Chinese generals. Yue Fei lived during the second half of the Song dynasty. He loved his country so much, he wrote poetry about drinking his enemy’s blood and eating their flesh (壮志饥餐胡虏肉，笑谈渴饮匈奴血) and taking back his country’s lands and saving the two previous emperors from being POWs. He is famous for the tattoo of the words “尽忠报国” (exhausting all loyalties to replay country aka i will be loyal and fight for my country until i die) on his back bestowed by his mother before he left home. When he was unjustly executed for treason, the executioners saw that on his back and the people knew a great man was wronged.  

(if anyone wants a translation of the poem and a rambly share about some of my favorite Yue Fei  related facts/stories, let me know. Otherwise, i’m gonna get back to our favorite necromancer)

So back to WWX. His loyalties are very much with the Jiang sect.  After JFM and YZY dies, within the structure of 忠, Jiang Cheng is effectively who he needs to be loyal to because Jiang Cheng is the sect leader and essentially the symbol of the sect. The act of giving up his core to JC, then, embodies the idea of loyalty within the context of 忠. (I’ve seen memes about how WWX gave consent, WQ gave consent, but JC didn’t. drwcn has a great post about consent. For this post, i’m not going to go into it because this is outside my defined scope.) Furthermore, 忠 compels WWX to protect the Jiangs. I’ve read meta that thinks WWX was trying to get himself killed based on the crossing of his hanfu and his mouthing off at Wen Chao. I’m inclined to believe that reading because if dying means JC would never find out, so be it. And as long as WWX is dead, there will be no evidence of the core transfer so JC would never lose face before other cultivators. It would mean the Jiang sect can be rebuilt to its old status without being tainted by WWX’s sacrifice. 

Ok, next is 孝. 孝 (xiào) is most often translated as filial piety. I don’t think there is a good sense of it in western culture. In chinese culture, it is the expected deference younger generations need to display to elders in their direct lineage. [Note: i use lineage because you can be 孝 towards your biological parents and grandparents, your kungfu master and their master, your adopted/honor bound parents, etc but not to everyone who is in a higher generation. It’s very family/lineage based.] 孝 is complicated because it’s ingrained into Chinese kids at a really young age. Go pour your grandparents tea. Go give your grandparents a back rub. Listen to your parents. When your parents get old, you’ll take care of them. Respect your elders. Even if your elders are wrong, don’t talk back. It’s a set of emotions that tie you to your ancestry. To turn your back on it feels like turning your back on your culture and identity. 

Tangent, feel free to skip: Ok, this is really cool and I had to share. In looking up 孝 in the online xinhua dictionary, it says about the etymology: “形声。从老省，从子。” This is so cool! We have two characters: 老 (old, as in Yiling Laozu) and 子 (child). You’ll notice 孝 is a character where to top part of 老 is taken and 子 essentially follows. This character is a style of character where the meaning comes from the structure of the character. So 孝 is where the children follow the old, often blindly and with disregard of their own needs. 

WWX, as an orphan, can only direct his 孝 towards Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. 1) No matter how awful they were as parents, JFM and YZY raised WWX. 2) WWX is the head disciple. That means JFM is his shifu. [He calls JC his shidi and JYL his shijie for that reason.] That teacher-disciple relation is often described as “一日为师,终生为父” (a teacher for one day should be treated like a father for life). Both 1 and 2 bind WWX to the Jiangs regardless of his adoption status. So, when on the boat YZY and JFM tell WWX to take care of JC and JYL, it’s the order of an elder in his direct lineage. To not listen, to not defer to that order would not be 孝. Considering they perished at Lotus Pier, WWX was obligated to execute those orders to their fullest whatever the price (i.e. golden core). 

Along those same lines, out of 孝 (and human decency, tbh) WWX and JC had to retrieve JFM and YZY’s bodies. Wen Ning helping them out in that situation is a HUGE favor. Not to mention all the other things WN and Wen Qing does for them. I will get to the favors and their ramifications later. 

Ok, moving on to 仁. 仁 (rén) is most often translated as benevolence or humanity. (I want to say I find the translation of humanity very interesting from a bilingual child’s perspective because the chinese character for person/human is 人 which is also rén. I got the concept confused a LOT.) 仁 is found in the love and kindness shown towards fellow humans. Ctext often translates it as virtue, which is a bit too broad, IMO. I think this line from Confucian Analects explain the concept succinctly: 

樊遲問仁。子曰：”愛人”

Fan Chi asked about benevolence [仁]. Confucius said, "It is to love all men." 

WWX embodies this love better than everyone else in the story (except maybe LSZ but LSZ probably gets it from WWX). WWX meets stuttering WN and acknowledges him, offers to give advice, and truly sees the younger man. He treats WN with kindness and friendship (and yes, he takes advantage of WN’s willingness to push him around in a turnip wagon but that’s more shenanigans). WWX also sees the Wens at Phoenix Mountain as human and steps out of line to help them.  His blindfolded five arrow show stems out of his 仁. His saving Mianmian is also an expression of his 仁. So many of WWX’s actions stem from 仁. A lot of the fandom see it as his empathy and I agree! It is that! But it can also be viewed as his internalization of the virtue to love humanity. 

Finally, 义. 义 (義,yì) is actually the reason this ENTIRE post came to be. 义 is the same 义 as  Yi City. I offer the traditional version of the character above so you can see how it compares to the stone on the way to Yi City. You will recall when WWX says Yi City, LWJ asks, “Yi, which means chivalrous?” And WWX explains same character but for coffin/mortuary in this case. 

Actually, 义 is used in a lot of words: 

正义- correct/rigit + 义 =  righteousness

意义 - ideal + 义 = meaning

侠义 - knight -errant + 义 = chivalry

义气 - 义 + air = personal loyalty; code of brotherhood

名义- name + 义 = nominal

义父 - 义 + father = sworn father (this is a difficult to translate idea that sometimes i translate as godfather for simplification and cultural parallelism. it’s a parent figure that you acknowledge via vows. If the character for father is replaced with brother, then it’s the relationship that the 3zun have. And OMG i want to talk about the 3zun and romance of 3 kingdoms and how much of a awful un-义 person JGY is… but also holy out of scope batman)

In the case of virtues/morality, we’re looking at 义气 - the 义 that means loyalty to people and a code of brotherhood. The Jiang Sect ancestor is described as a 游侠 (yóu xiá, wandering hero). The ancestor’s identity as a 侠 (xiá), which indicates a highly skilled martial artist/fighter who will defends others (à la wuXIA and xianXIA), places him within the world of 江湖 (jiāng hú, sometimes translated as rivers and lakes or “pugilistic world” in some wuxia subtitles). In 江湖, 义 is the most important virtue. Based on 义, you help those in need. You stand out and do what is right. You are an outlaw that follows a strict moral code. 义 is the foundation of the Jiang Sect’s motto. Furthermore, the idea of 义气 can in some ways be viewed as currency. You do me a favor, I owe you one. You treat me with decency, I return the favor. You DO NOT return kindness with ill intent. It is taboo. 

WWX exemplifies 义. 义 is part of what makes him so lovable and reckless. For 义 , he sticks out his neck for LWJ during Wen Summer Camp. For 义, he follows LWJ to search for the Yin Iron. Under 义 , he is free to be the hero who lends a hand whenever it’s needed. Oftentimes, 仁 and 义  go hand in hand because to stand up and stand out for other requires love of others and seeing their humanity. 

So let’s get back to the Wen remnants: for 义, WWX must protect WN and WQ. As I mentioned before, WN and WQ had done WWX and JC (and thus the Jiang Sect as a whole) MULTIPLE HUGE FAVORS. 1) saving JC from Wen Chao at Lotus Pier. 2) retrieving JFM and YZY’s bodies. 3) transferring the golden core against WQ’s best judgement. All of these actions are so vital to the survival or the reputation of the Jiang Sect. WWX knows it. I’m positive JC knows it.  To turn their backs on WN and WQ would be 不仁不义 (neither 仁 nor 义). Really, the ONLY thing they should be doing from the perspective of 义 is helping the Wens to repay their kindness. But WWX knows, as the head disciple, that JC cannot afford to align the Jiang Sect in sympathy with the Wens because it’s political suicide. The Jiang Sect WILL NOT SURVIVE if Nie, Jin, and Lan all turn against them. Even if Lan stood neutral, Nie and Jin would still be able to wipe out barely rebuilt Jiang. 

So what does WWX do? He has already painted himself as a rebel, as rude, as ill bred. And from an outsider looking in, WWX is in alignment with his slippery descend into darkness. WWX knows if he steps just a little more out of line, he can accomplish everything else his morality dictates. (We could talk about WHY WWX feels like it’s ok for him to give up everything and analyze WWX’s self worth and what not. But that’s also outside the scope of this post and i’m pretty sure other people have done a better job of it than I could.) 

Save the Wens, run away to the Burial Mounds, and defecting are all aligned with WWX’s morals. Defecting protects JC and the Jiangs sect in an act of loyalty (忠). Defecting also protects JC and JYL, thus fulfilling the filial piety toward YZY and JFM’s instructions (孝).  Saving the Wens returns the debt of 义 that JC and WWX owe to WN and WQ. Saving the Wens also appeal to WWX’s sense of 仁 towards the non-cultivators. Lastly, protecting the Wens means JC does not end up 不仁不义. From WWX’s perspective his actions are the only option for him to really have no regrets when he asks his heart. 

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

a poem for small things

by Admin 1 & 2

The time has come, the first proper post for this segment we’ve settled on calling a poem for small things, a nod toward BWL and its Korean title. Like we said in our call for submission post, this is supposed to be something like a place full of positivity for vminnies (and perhaps the occasional namjinist) where you (and us) can share whatever we’d like in connection to vmin, both as vmin and as Jimin and Tae the individuals, and have something to raise our mood and also strengthen our vminnie confidence. We’ve gotten several wonderful submissions and quickly realized that for this first post the theme is mostly how I became a vminnie, even if three submissions talk more about vmin moments they enjoy instead.

I think it’s a really interesting theme, especially since everyone’s story is different, and everyone seems to find something else about vmin that captured their attention and hearts so sharing these memories and experiences is a great way to start off this segment. We’ve said it many times before, though I don’t think you can say it enough times, but this bond that Jimin and Tae share is truly special and so one of a kind, it’s wonderful to see how we all relate to and resonate with it in our own way and find something in it that makes us fall in love with their loves, regardless if we see it as platonic or romantic love. Love is love after all. 95z is love.

For the order of these submissions, we’ll simply go in the order in which we’ve received them. Most of them came from anons, which is more than okay. We’ve also opened the possibility of submitting posts for those who would like to submit wordier posts/asks, should we do another edition of this. It all depends on how much you’ll enjoy it and if you’ll come through with more submissions that could be gathered for future posts.

Anyway, enough talking from our side, let’s dive into these submissions below the cut, shall we? Like we said in the original post (and demonstrated in the preview post), we’ll add some of our commentary and observations along the way, too.

From anon: This is going to be long winded story but Vmin is like a Serendipity to me. I've heard of BTS mainly from my hubby when he complains that times sq is packed because of BTS (when they’re in town and doing their rounds of morning shows). I knew they were very popular but it was a great surprise that i discovered them after watching ILand during lockdown. Their songs were great and i started playing their classics like Fire, DNA Fake Love etc. Then they did an appearance in the show...

I love how you heard about BTS because of your husband and Time Square being packed, this is honestly the most original and unique version of how I’ve come across BTS I’ve read over the years. Amazing!

I was drawn to Taehyung's beauty during their appearance in Iland. And my first Vmin ? moment was when Tae commented about being handsome and attractive are 2 things and being attractive weighs more - along those lines... then JM made a comment that its unfair that he's both and Tae was like Im talking about you... I went like ok he thinks JM is attractive- theyre good friends.... then Jimin did the FakeLove choreo and the camera focused on Tae and he had this wide smile...The Iland Tae/Jimin clips made me do a double take but I dismissed it since it was just only a few seconds worth of screen time but still...

I-Land vmin was really something else in both episodes. 

Fun fact: I-Land was the first Korean survival show I’ve ever watched, mostly because it had something to do with BH and since it was streamed online with subs in real time. Unfortunately, my faves—Daniel and Taki—didn’t make it into ENHYPEN, though I’m happy that Taki will be in a future Japanese BH group.

But, going back to vmin, that moment with Jimin dancing FAKE LOVE and Tae looking at him with that boxy smile as though Jimin hung the stars in the sky? I melted, even if it was just one of those brief moments, yet still it’s so cute! And it was all over sns being shared by vminnies and non-vminnies alike. What a great time that was.

Then VMAs Dynamite perf happened- both Vmin looking good. I saw a lot of their promos especially the Jimmy Fallon interviews... and I noticed in hindsight how JF was so careful when referring to Jimin ... Since Tae was my first bias, I searched YT for Tae related content eventually saw in my YT feed Vmin moments. Theres a lot of Vmin content in YT or maybe the T*ek*ok ones didnt really register as extraordinary to me. But defo the Vmin moments were extraordinary to me,,,the BV4 sleeping together, kitchen role play & BV3 JM excited to see Tae and them holding hands and then Tae crying and then Tae's busking with Jimin cheering him on were all amazing to see. Up to this day this specific YT vid stood out to me first 

I actually went to check what video this is, and also looked at the comments where my favorite was this one: The staff member went straight to Jimin to tell him V was crying. That's all you need to know. They’re not wrong with that one, are they? That is pretty telling. BV3 vmin were a work of wonder, truly. Jimin watching Tae sing that Sam Smith song during the dinner in the sky looking all soft and endlessly fond?

Jimin encouraging Tae to busk and gently petting his hair was just such a pure moment and showed how much Jimin appreciates Tae and the talent he has, how in moments when Tae might brush aside wanting to do something, is a little hesitant and unsure, Jimin will stand up for him and give him strength/encouragement, which reminds me of Tae’s vlive in April 2020 and the fact that Jimin had told him that he wants to be his source of strength. Beautiful. And it shows that it wasn’t just pretty yet empty words, but something he truly meant. They both do.

Then i came across vid trans of Friends & cried first time hearing it especially when it got to the part "One day when the cheer dies down, stay hey.." It felt raw and honest to me. Then there's MOT:E concert and that part in Dynamite where they bumped their heads seemed bizaare to me - i was like were they fighting? because JM looked really fierce(or maybe emotional) then i saw the close up. i couldnt remember the exact moment I became a Vminie but it made quarantine easier...

This, I’ve noticed, seems to be a recurring theme among quarantine ARMY and vminnies, the fact that becoming ARMY and vminnies made it easier, and it fits with what we’ve been saying about BTS for years: they will find you when you’ll need them most. And in these trying and uncertain times, it’s certainly proven true once again.

Thank you of much for your submission and sharing your story with us, and I’m glad they could make quarantine a little easier for you.

From anon: I've been following BTS on and off since BST, but only really consider myself a true fan late 2019. I can't recall having a bias at first, but I was captivated by Jimin's everything when I binge-watched all their content. I must admit, my first OTP is T*e/k*ok, where I fell down the route of considering Jimin 'an interfering 3rd party' in their relationship, and it shamed me. Since then I've been cycling through Jimin ships, namely yo*n/m*n, j*n/m*n, m*ni/m*ni, and I even thought that j*/k*ok was real at some point. Strangely, Vmin never struck me as something extraordinary. I don't want to blame anyone, but Vmin caught my eye after I watched official BTS content without filter (presumed bias/judgement) all in their glory. I realized that while other ships may go up-and-down as in one day there's a frenzy and another day quiet af, Vmin has been and is still going constant. That's what makes me love Vmin, and for the first time in my fandom life, I have no qualms about whether they are real or not. Their bond, whatever it is, is already precious and something to be cherished forever. Thank you for providing us vminies a special corner to speak up about our experience 💜

You’re very welcome! I hope you’ll like how this turned out as well. Thank you for sharing your story with us and personally I find it fascinating how, despite Jimin being the one who captivated you most at first, you still fell into the “he’s an interference for my ship” trap that’s quite popular with that particular ship. I’m glad though that that never ruined your love for Jimin. It’s also really interesting for me how you went through different Jimin ships yet it took you the longest time to notice vmin. I feel like, because vmin and vminnies are more “low key” than the other bigger and louder ships, as well as Tae and Jimin simply being quieter in their interactions (not always but you get the point) as compared to, for example, Jimin’s interactions with Hobi, Jungkook, or even Namjoon, it takes people a while to really notice them.

This is my favorite part of what you wrote, and I think it’s a great way to describe vmin in general and what makes them different from other ships in the grand scheme of things: I realized that while other ships may go up-and-down as in one day there's a frenzy and another day quiet af, Vmin has been and is still going constant.

From vminot7: So i fell into BTS hole after watching blood sweat and tears mv casually on youtube. Jimin immediately stole my attention with his unique voice, graceful moves and handsome features even though i didn’t know their names at that time. I watched more MVs and jimin continued to hold my attention but i was also extremely drawn to taehyung's voice and facial expressions. So i started looking for more content such as RUN BTS and other compilations and realized my love for all 7 of them. I also noticed how jimin always had a soft spot for taehyung and was curious about their dynamics. I started looking at more of vmin content and i was really surprised to see how in the early days they were nowhere near as soft with each other as they are now. I think they have a unique bond and i have never come across anything quite similar. Now vmin are both my biases and my bias wrecker is hoseok.

I admire jimin for being a hardworking, passionate perfectionist but also a caring soul who is always ready to offer love and comfort to people in need. I love taehyung for how he looks at the world in his unique ways and how he has a childlike awe for things and how he is so passionate over the things he loves. The thing i love about vmin together is how they are so different yet work so hard on their relationship when it would be easier to just not try that hard.

Ah, another mention of the queen that is Blood, Sweat and Tears. The MV truly is such a masterpiece so I’m not surprised that it caught your attention, and especially Jimin since he was…something else in that MV, or like Tae said, his eyes were temptation (this boy, I swear). Since you mentioned how in the first years they were nowhere near as soft with each other as they are now, I think watching their dynamic and relationship change and evolve over time showcases the one thing I think a lot of people (as well as movies and TV shows) forget or gloss over, despite it being so incredibly important: in order to make a relationship of any kind work, especially in order for it to grow as deep and strong as the one between all members and especially vmin, you need to put in the emotional work to make that happen. You have to make an effort, have to learn to understand the other person and teach them to understand you as well, learn to appreciate and love their little quirks and how to accept others. And it’s so clear that that’s what vmin did, continue to do, and it more than paid off in the long run. I’m glad you highlighted that in general but also as something you love about them.

While the overall bond between the members is a class of its own, I think especially what vmin have achieved is a whole masterclass in relationships and fostering strong ones, in and of itself. There is a lot I think we can learn from them and I’m so happy that people recognize how special they are.

Thank you so much for your submission!

From anon: There’s this small moments in Dear Class of 2020 that i just adore! I’ve watched it at least 20 times this past month

It starts with “Spring Day”- tae and jimin laugh and look at each other and it’s just so sweet!

Also, maybe it’s my delusional mind but after tae’s and jin’s small and adorable moment- it seemed that jimin did the same with junkook right after maybe out of i duuno if jealousy but like “pay attention to me too” kinda way- dont know really and maybe it’s me being extra🤷🏻‍♀️

I agree partially, in that Jimin watched Tae’s and Seokjin’s adorable moment, obviously must’ve thought of it as cute just like we did, and thought he could do the same with JK. I don’t think it had anything to do with jealousy, especially if we work off of the idea that vmin are a thing, but also because it’s a performance and these things primarily serve the purpose of being cute and entertaining use, in other words, it’s fanservice (which isn’t the evil word some portray it as). Also, within that same performance, Tae and Jimin actually sang some of the lyrics toward each other, therefore they, too, had a cute moment they shared with big smiles and everything, just like you mentioned.

But we’ve gotten to see much more of Tae’s friendship with Seokjin in 2020, and especially the second half, so it was really sweet to see them interact during that song. Their friendship and dynamic is really a beautiful one, just like JKs bond with Seokjin, which I feel we’ve also gotten to see more of in recent months. Part of me (and that part can very well be wrong) feels that perhaps once the members caught on to Seokjin feeling the way he said he did/does, they decided to give him an extra dose of love and affection, off camera but also on where we can see it. That isn’t to say that they didn’t show him any of that before, but maybe they increased the intensity a little, a reminder that Seokjin truly is loved, that he deserves all of this, that it’s just his imposter syndrome (or at least what sounds like it) lying to him.

I’m still so touched and moved by the fact that he trusted us enough to share his feelings with us, to gift us Abyss and how it came to be, and that Bang PD was on his side and coaxed him into pouring his feelings into music, even if it would be “bad”, that the fear of it potentially being “bad” shouldn’t hold him back (and Namjoon helping in even if just a tiny bit with the lyrics). It was one of those times where I feel like we were all reminded that regardless of our opinions of BH and their doings, the members are surrounded by kind people who have their best interest in mind. After all what’s good for Bangtan is also good for the company, a win-win for everyone.

…wow, okay, I kind of went off on a tangent, I’m sorry…

Either way , then we have “Mikrokosmos” where we have a sweet moment at their part and towards the end where they switch mic and hear each other

I love this performance overall and especially “spring day”- jin’s and j-hope’s lovely voices and of course tae’s!! This song fits them so well and all the members of course

Well this is my rent , i love your blog and always wait for another post! Also i love the new idea and look forward to it!

Thank you so much for your submission and for bringing up their Dear Class 2020 performance. It was a truly magical one, and after reading this the first time, I did go and watch it again. To this day I’d still very much like to know how and when and why the mic switch between vmin happened, and I kind of hope that we might get a Bangtan B*mb or EPISODE about this eventually and it might shine some light on that question. Overall it was one of my favorite performances on 2020.

From Sky: While I enjoy cute, physical moments with VMIN, I really do value how emotionally attached they are to each other. For example (I don’t know if it fits as vmin moment but), I love how Jimin asked V to take the Promise cover photo, and how he ended up putting V’s name for credits on the cover. (Special Thanks to V, Best Photographer) This really shows a lot. Coz he can easily choose any Bighit photographer to take it. He could have chosen JK because we know how he takes good pics and vids too (and also apparently alot of people say that vmin had a falling out and that Jimin and JK were much more closer, lol). Or he could’ve asked Suga too bec he’s into cameras too. But he didn’t. He chose V, and chose to shout it out to the world how thankful he is for V’s help. RM co-wrote Promise, and maybe had offered more help in this project, but he didn’t put it in the cover. I’m not saying Jimin is ungrateful for not crediting RM in the cover. The difference is that he and RM had a vlive regarding the making of this song, a lot of people already know RM’s participation, he was officially credited as co-writer and Jimin really showed how thankful he is to RM. But no one knows of V’s participation (except for a snippet in that Run ep), so Jimin felt the need to tell it to everyone. I’m sure it’s not only the photos, I think he wanted to acknowledge how V helped him through the process, whether directly or indirectly. Also, remember this is Jimin’s first non-album solo single. By putting V’s name in it, he is sharing this very special song with his soulmate. How endearing it is! V also included Jimin in his first full English song. He used the two bears given by Jimin as Winter Bear’s cover photo and he included the photo Jimin took (sleeping V in the plane) in the MV. Like, seriously, they are trying to consciously imprint each other in their life’s milestones, openly or subtly. I’m crying. 😭

This was lovely, and yes, Jimin could’ve asked whoever to take those pictures, could’ve chosen any other ones, and yet he wanted Tae to be the one to take them, wanted those specific ones as covers. It’s very sweet and creates this subtle connection between Jimin, the song, and Tae. Sure, it isn’t the first time a picture Tae took is the cover for a SoundCloud song (the picture of JK on the 2U cover was also taken by Tae if I remember correctly), but it’s the fact that Promise is Jimin’s first non-BTS song, his first solo release, that makes it that much more special. Even more so when you think about how meaningful that song is to Jimin, and by having Tae as cover picture photographer, he’s in a way forever attached memory wise to that song as well, right?

The same also goes with Winter Bear and the two ceramic bears. Remember how excited Tae looked when I kinda spoiled that gift being a thing happening in an upcoming RUN episode during Jimin’s vlive during the summer 2019? Adorable. It’s also curious how though the title is singular—winter bear not winter bears—there’s two ceramic bears. One for Tae, one for Jimin? Maybe, or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Either way, it’s really cute, and it was a very thoughtful gift, even more when we think about just how much Jimin loves that song.

From anon: Love this idea it's super cute!! 1st thing that came to my mind is a rather simple moment, jimin bopping taehyung's nose and making a lil game out of it

Taehyung asking for more and that dazed smile 🥺 he had the same expression in that concert when jimin placed his face just above him, tae's smile afterward... it was so pure u could almost read "love" in his eyes lol

What a lovely note to end this post at, thank you for that. I don’t know what got into them during that photoshoot for Season’s Greetings 2020 but this was so disarmingly adorable. I remember when that moment appeared all over every sns and everyone just melted, myself included. Their smiles, the cute clothes, Tae’s head on Jimin’s chest, the softness and innocence of it, just all of it. It truly was so pure and like this sweet visualization of ‘love’.

And with that, we’ve reached the end. Did you like this? I had a great time reading your submissions and adding my little comments to them. If you’d like for us to continue this, same rules as last time, send in a submission marked with “VMC” and once we’ll have enough of them gathered, we’ll do this again, if you’re interested in more, that is. Send in whatever positive vmin you have, a thought, a moment, a memory, whatever you’d like.

Thank you once again to everyone who participated! :)

[madhyanas]

here be dragons

Part 1 of the Hospitality series

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13

Word Count: 4.6k 

Warnings: One use of a slur, aimed at the reader.

A/N: ahhhhh it’s a little late, but i finally finished this. now i can finally start posting this series in the RIGHT order, oh my god. check it out on ao3 here, if you want.

It’s late.

You lie in your cot, staring into the darkness. Unable to sleep, surrounded by the vicious tempest outside. It’s raining heavily; pelting down so hard you can hear it through the roof and feel it through the floor. Occasionally, you hear a boom of thunder, and the inn doors rattle and shake.

You’re glad you fixed the waterproofing this morning.

In a storm like this, you hold some half-hearted hope that a traveller will stop by. Someone soaked and freezing; desperate enough for you to hike up the price of lodging without turning away business.

Swindling a tourist here and there can’t hurt, in the grand scheme of the galaxy. You have to eat, after all.

The rich scent of waterlogged earth fills the room, and something about it seems unfamiliar. You’ve accustomed to the occasional downpour by now, having lived on Takodana for many years. But the lingering air of petrichor reminds you just how different home was — all dry deserts and salt flats, the odd dust storm. Certainly no lush greenery or blue skies.

As a lump settles in your throat, you miss the mechanic stand from your childhood. The slick smear of oil on your mother’s cheek as she gave the speeder a tune-up. The stripes on your father’s montrals above the welding mask as he soldered wires back together. When he was done, he’d always squish your little face in his palms. Smoothing his thumbs over the white markings on your face, near identical to his. The only symbol of your Togruta heritage, contrasted on a face of your mother’s colouring.

You sigh, and sit up. Now, you’re stuck here. Running an inn by yourself, out of business and in denial about it. You miss the feeling of freedom that came and left with youth; running through the streets, being swept up in warm, protective arms. Your mother rolling her eyes. Your father’s laugh.

Suddenly, a bang. You hear front doors slide open, and your heart leaps into your throat. The sound rings in your ears for a moment with its violence. Blindly, you grab the vibroblade from the table and scramble to the entrance. You’ve never used it before, and you pray the doors are just malfunctioning.

As you skirt through the narrow passageway, your stomach drops. No such luck. A large, silhouetted figure stands before the main desk, looming ominously as the wind howls outside. Maker, they’re huge. Far bigger than you, and a small, nagging part of your brain says they could kill you in a heartbeat.

It’s still dark. Frozen as you are, you haven’t turned the lamp on. In vain, you hope they might leave if no-one arrives. A bolt of lightning flashes outside, and the glare arcs off the stranger’s helmet.

Your eyes widen at the glimpse of a smooth, glass t-visor. A Mandalorian.

Oh, you’re fucked.

In that moment, they turn to you directly. The back of your neck tingles, and you realise they can see you. Their helmet turns down to the vibroblade in your hands, before returning to your face calmly. Of course. You don’t think you’re a very threatening sight, cowering in the doorway like this.

You feel remarkably stupid.

Hesitantly, you step forward and switch on the lamp at the desk with your free hand. Light pours out softly between you, doing nothing to calm your nerves. You squint, eyes adjusting to the brightness, trying to control the pounding of your heart.

“I am in need of lodging.”

You blink. The voice, low and rumbling, is scrambled by a vocoder. Male, from what you can tell, and the static scratches at your ears. He’s covered from head-to-toe in deep blue armour; rivulets of water drip off the steel, puddling on your floor. Some kind of pack rests on his back, and you try, fruitlessly, to ignore the glint of a trigger and scope.

Towering over you, you’d have to crane your head just to look him in the visor. You don’t have the nerve, in any case.

It occurs to you, faintly, that you could die tonight. It also occurs to you that the chances of an untimely demise would be significantly higher, if you keep gawking at him like this.

“Uh…”

“Lodging,” he repeats, sounding distinctly impatient. “Is there a vacancy?”

Maker, when is there not.

“Yes! Yes, there’s a— there’s a vacancy.” Fumbling for the log-holo, you set the vibroblade down in a cubby under the desk. Still within reach, and your receptionist autopiloting kicks in. “Uh, single room, how many nights?” You glance up at the shiny helm. The usual questions, but it feels… impertinent, asking for information. Like you’re violating his sanctity, or something, just daring to wonder. Especially about someone so clearly hostile. How does a faceless sheet of beskar manage to make your stomach churn?

“One.”

Of that, you’re grateful. One night, and you’ll be done with this. “Okay,” you reply, dragging out the sound. You sound nervous. He must be able to tell. “And, uh, name?”

He stares you down. It suddenly feels cold, frigid, even though his visage most definitely cannot change. It strikes you, in that moment, that even your sensitive nose can’t detect anything on him. The rain has washed it all away, except for a stubborn, smokey hint of blaster ammunition. Recently fired. A shiver runs up your spine.

Acerbically, he snaps, “Pick one.” There’s a rising heat behind the words, you don’t push your luck.

“I’ll— I’ll just put ‘Mando’,” you mutter, entering the moniker into the log. Once again, in the span of less than five minutes, you feel like a moron. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

But there’s one more caveat. You should probably forget it, just this once, but for some reason: “You’re not allowed to bring weapons inside. While— While you’re staying.”

A golden rule. One of the conditions upon which you were even allowed to run this place was your responsibility to maintain peace. (You often wonder what the Pirate Queen was thinking, believing you capable of breaking up any kind of violence.)

To your relief, the Mandalorian doesn’t explode with rage, or any such violent gestures. His shoulders are tense, but this — dealing with irritated, tired travellers — is familiar. He’s no different, you tell yourself.

“The weapons stay.”

“I can’t let you—”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” You blink, and your silence seems enough for him to continue. “I won’t be using them on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Keep your distance, and there won’t be a problem.”

A threat. Perhaps he’s trying to reassure you, in some strange way, but it doesn’t stop the cold fist of dread from closing around your heart.

“I’m… not supposed to—”

“You have my word.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. Despite the nerves wrenching your stomach, there’s an urge to stand your ground. To defend the principles of Maz’s territory. (Or, more selfishly, to rebuke how easily he’s trampling all over you.) You shift, ready to argue.

But then he moves, one hefty arm lifting upwards, and you flinch. He pauses, before fishing a leather pouch out of a pocket and dropping it on the counter. You hear the familiar clink of credits. The sound elicits an instinctual reaction, a lurch of hope. You lean forward with a frown, inspecting the offering.

You gingerly pluck it by the drawstring, and its weight is a pleasant surprise. The contents are promising — a fee far exceeding the cost of one night’s stay.

A prickling mixture of shame and embarrassment heat your cheeks. Oh, how quickly your righteous anger fades at the promise of payment. Again, the back of your neck tingles. A reminder, that the Mandalorian is watching.

Taking a steadying breath, you bring your eyes back to the visitor. “Should I… show you to your room?”

A beat, then he nods.

You step to the side and flick the overhead lights on, waiting for him to go first. But he continues staring, and your skin itches with the weight of judgement. You realise he’ll only follow behind.

You swallow thickly, keeping your gaze averted as you lead him inside. Your little bungalow inn doesn’t have that many rooms to begin with, so you keep them all clean and ready for a guest — that’s not the issue.

But you have to go the night knowing there’s an elite warrior, perfectly capable of silencing your heartbeat, staying two doors down. You have to sleep with that knowledge.

You realise the vibroblade still rests in your palm. It feels clunky. Foolish, in your inexperienced hand. The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps thud behind you, accented by the clank of metal armour. You clamp down the urge to rub the back of your tingling neck, and in some peculiar urge to reconcile, you half-turn to him as you walk. Slowly, showing him the weapon.

“Ah, I wouldn’t use this, you know. On you.” He’s crushingly silent, appraising you. He has to duck his head slightly to fit in the passageway, nearly filling up its width with his bulk.

You blather on, blindly spitting out words to fill the silence. “It’s just— all sorts pass through here, you know? This place has Kanata’s stamp of approval and all, but better safe than sorry.”

Still, no response, and you wince at just how green you sound. You swallow, having reached the doorway; you’ve led him to the quarters with the largest bed, having figured he’ll need it.

“There’s instructions to set the passcode inside. If you need anything,” you say, hoping he won’t, “I’m that door over there.” For one, awkward moment, you stand, feeling horribly out of place with the brooding figure at your side. “Well. Goodnight, then.”

You turn around, credits and blade in hand, ready to step into your quarters and get some kriffing rest, when the crawling, fuzzy feeling on the nape of your neck intensifies.

With one foot through the doorway, you hear him call out to you. “I thought no weapons were permitted.” A coarse noise crackles through the vocoder, and you realise it’s a laugh. You feel a cold sweat run down your back. “Is that blade just for show, then, little innkeeper?”

He— he sounds amused. Finding entertainment in your clear disadvantage. You feel sick, sick to your stomach, and slam the button to close the door behind you. Wetness springs to your eyes like clockwork, but the tears don’t fall even as you collapse on your cot. You’re pathetic, you think. Unable to stop him from belittling you, never mind barring him entry.

Sleep, though it eventually comes, is fitful and disturbed. Phantom helmets and mocking, modulated laughter fill your head.

In the morning, his room is emptied out. Bed made, fresher tidied.

No trace of the Mandalorian, at all. You’ve never been more grateful.

———

The second time you meet the Mandalorian, you’ve got your hands full.

“I’m not running a charity here.”

A Zabrak man has his hands planted on the desk, leaning into your space uncomfortably. Maker, guests like these test your patience.

It’s a poor attempt at intimidation. He’s taller than you, certainly, but gangly in a way that screams awkward, rather than lean. Scrawny, drawn out. Even the spikes protruding from his yellowish face are lumpy and faded. You wrinkle your nose at the faint, rank odour of sweat and booze. Overall, you’re unimpressed.

Besides, imposing figures don’t phase you much anymore. Not since that fateful encounter, nearly a cycle ago. You’d feared for your life that night.

Few were as large a threat as that Mandalorian.

The Zabrak hisses in your face, “Maz Kanata owes me a great debt. I’ll take it out of my bill.”

In your periphery, you can hear the telltale sounds of landing gear outside — a new arrival, but you can’t deal with that right now.

You blink slowly, and sigh. “Listen, this shtick you’re trying to pull? I’ve heard it before.” So, so many times. You’re not the only cheapskate in these parts. “You have a problem with Maz, you take it up with her. She doesn’t control my inn any more than I control the Castle.” That’s… not exactly true. But you doubt it matters to him.

Twisting his face unpleasantly, the man snarls, “I demand recompense, innkeeper. Return my credits, and we won’t have a problem.”

You recall being browbeaten at similar words. That night you cowed, frozen by the weight of mortality hanging over your head. But you have since hardened in the months that passed, and you steel your resolve.

Leaning close to the Zabrak, getting in his face, you speak through bared teeth. “You’re right. You get out of my inn, and we won’t.” Curling your lips into a disgusted half-sneer, “So I’ll be keeping my credits.”

“Insolent fool,” the Zabrak growls, and he moves to reach for something concealed behind his back. You jaw clenches — how did you miss that he was armed? — and you flinch backwards as he reveals a blaster. Before you can reach for your trusty vibroblade, the doors slide open with an innocent ting.

Standing there in the doorway, is your Mandalorian.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, huge as ever, ducking his head to step over the threshold. Armed to the teeth, as per usual.  He saunters forward slowly, purposefully. The swagger, the presence in his gait impossibly makes him seem… bigger? Somehow even more bulky than last time?

The Zabrak whirls round, only to balk at the steely-blue cuirass his chin comes to level with. He’s harmless compared to the warrior before him. You can only imagine how tiny you must seem. The Mandalorian keeps his head inclined down to the horned man, who’s now gripping the desk behind him, but his words are for you.

“Trouble, innkeeper?”

Maker, it’s been months since you heard that rumbling voice. It still knots your stomach, but less so, you think, than it did. You’re surprised he remembers you.

Your confidence with the pesky guest has not dissipated, however, and you find your words. “I don’t know.” You address the Zabrak calmly, “Is there any trouble, sir? It’d be a shame if things got… unpleasant.”

The wilting man cranes his head to you with a frantic look in his eye, and you feel a flash of pity. Ah, kriff. You’ve made your point.

Glancing at the Mandalorian, you make a subtle ‘back-up’ motion with your palm, half-wondering if he’ll take offence. But thankfully, he does as you request, and the Zabrak’s wheeze of relief is audible as he deflates.

“Takodana Castle,” you start, a little gentler than before, “Is three miles that way.” You thrust a thumb to the side. “One path, cuts through the forest. Can’t miss it.”

The Zabrak stumbles his way around the Mandalorian, never taking his wide eyes off the helmet. The armoured man steps aside silently, and it’s a wonder how he makes such a simple gesture seem so mocking. Saying that he’s the one in control, even if it’s temporarily at your behest. All in the way he shifts, the dangerous glint of his blasters in the light.

The memory of his laugh, hearty and sinister, echoes in your brain. Your toes curl in your boots.

Once he’s out of the door, the Zabrak gains some ill-founded sense of security. His wiry frame tenses, and he glares at you, spitting, “Watch yourself, halfbreed.” With a single, fleeting glance to the Mandalorian, he runs off towards the forest.

…ah.

You purse your lips, and look to the floor out of habit. Heat rushes to your cheeks. The slur is not unfamiliar to you. Your lack of montrals and lekku allow you to blend in, to lie low. But your markings reveal who you are. It’s strange; you think you’re proud of them. What they represent, who gave them to you. But the wave of shame that crashes over you sends blood roaring in your ears. For the Mandalorian to witness this? It’s a pitiful sight.

In the corner of your eye, you see him clench a fist, and you quash the sickness of your heart down with a vengeance. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“So. It’s, uh, been a while.” You cringe at the heavy-handed attempt to change the subject. Now that cursed Zabrak has left, it’s like all your bravado has sputtered out. And, really? Last time you saw the Mandalorian, a man from a culture of elite warriors, you thought he was going to murder you in your sleep. Been a while, indeed.

He plays along. “Well, I was in the area. Figured I should save the damsel in distress, while I had the chance.” He leans an elbow on the counter, resting his weight on it, and for a moment you’re perplexed.

The Mandalorian is… teasing you. Relaxed against your desk, standing close but not enough to be invasive. It’s a far cry from that shadow in the pouring rain, haunting your doorstep. “Although, from where I was standing, you didn’t seem to need much help,” he continues smoothly.

Compliments? Maker, if it were anyone else, you might even think he was making a pass at you.

But it’s him, and you give the helmet a strange look. It’s a little freaky, in all honesty. “I… see. What business do you have here, then, Mandalorian?”

The helm sags slightly in what you can only describe as a falter. It’s jarring. So incongruent with the persona you have crafted in your mind.

“I can’t just drop by?” You imagine your disbelief is evident on your face, because he sighs, a deep and raspy thing, before his voice sobers a fraction. “I have business with the Pirate Queen.” Your shoulders slacken. Of course. It’s a relief, in some way, to know that the purpose of his visit is so normal.

You ready the holo-log at your side. “Ah, sure. How many nights?”

He straightens and rubs a hand to the back of his neck briefly. You stare at the offending limb, entranced by such a normal, hesitant movement. It’s… It’s so very human, for lack of a better word.

“I’m not looking for lodging.” You blink up at his visor, frowning. “My work should only take a day, at the most.”

“Then…”

“I told you. Just wanted to drop in.” That doesn’t answer anything at all, and he elaborates, “I rarely visit Takodana, innkeeper. I thought I’d say hello while I was here.”

Your lips part. What? How… how can there be so much lost in translation? You’ve been afraid of this man, or a barebones idea of him, for months now. Like some kind of boogeyman, under-the-bed horror to spook children into good behaviour. And he comes to you with something like friendliness, with a smart one-liner and warmth in his tone?

You shake your head, dazed; reluctantly, you decide to give it to him straight. “I… I wasn’t under the impression that we were friends, Mandalorian.” He stills, and you keep going. “Honestly, uh, last time. It wasn’t great, for me. You— You scared me.”

‘You still do’ sits on the tip of your tongue. In the disarming haze of his amicability, you can’t tell if it’s true or not. You ramble in the face of his silence, if only to quiet the conflict in your mind. “I thought that you’d— I mean, I thought that I might. Y’know. Die, that night. I was tired, okay, and— and I didn’t know what to think…”

You trail off.

The Mandalorian stands before you, wordless. Your knees aren’t trembling, but there’s a worry seated deep in your chest. It’s interesting, maybe, that you don’t know who it’s for. Guilt begins to creep up on you, bitter at the back of your throat. Kriff. Just as you open your mouth to say something, his voice comes through the vocoder.

“I apologise. I was not… I did not know. It was never my intention to scare you.” His voice sounds hoarse, like the very thought of your fear repulses him. His words are not clumsy, per se, but there’s a rawness there that makes you notice how eloquent he usually sounds. The visor does not stray from your face. “I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry.” His shoulders are slumped, and he’s curling in on himself slightly. Making himself smaller, you realise faintly, and he presses a gloved hand to his chest. The helmet bows. “Ni ceta. I apologise, innkeeper.”

You blink rapidly, not knowing what to say. That’s… an awful lot to take in. You can’t remember the last time someone really begged for your forgiveness like this. You swallow thickly. Don’t cry.

The air seems muggy, somehow. Heated. As if all the truth that has burst forth carries a flame with it, burning the space between you. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his vambrace. The metal is cool against the warmth of your palm, and you’re careful not to touch any of the buttons on the control panel.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I appreciate that. It’s— it’s alright. I think.” You nod determinedly, as if to reaffirm your words.

Heartfelt apologies don’t spill out so easily from heartless men, surely. He’s worth more trust than you give him. And his stance — defeated, ashamed — no, it doesn’t suit him at all. The helm tilts back up to your face, and you shoot him a small smile. Some kind of impulse lurches in your chest; to comfort, to come together. It’s genuine, and there’s a rosy warmth to your cheeks that feels pleasant.

You slide your hand away from his arm to offer it in the air. It hovers boldly, an attempt to bridge the abyss. It takes him a second, but he clasps your hand in his. You shake firmly, and his grip is strong, yet not painful. Reassuring, in a way. You suspect he’s controlling it for your sake.

“Let’s start fresh, huh?” You give him your name, and he repeats it.

His baritone resonates in your ears; it sounds like molasses, dripping into chest and heart. To hear your name uttered with respect, reverence, in that clear-cut way he speaks. It is nothing short of a miracle, in a moment.

You reassure him immediately, “I don’t need yours, if you’re worried about that sort of thing.” You lick your lips nervously. “But I do need something to call you. Got a preference?”

He hums, and you’re grateful how at-ease he sounds. It’s better this way. “What was it I told you that day? ‘Pick one’, I believe.”

So. This is the Mandalorian. He’s got jokes.

You snort, more at the realisation than anything else, and his posture brightens. “If you’re sure.” You press your lips together, thinking of a name. The back of your neck tingles all the while, and the weight of his stare is welcome for the first time. “We could just keep simple? ‘Mando’ would work.”

“Original,” he drawls, not unkindly. “But fine by me.” You have no idea, but it sounds like he’s smiling.

“Alright, then, Mando.” It’s so surreal, chatting with your own personal nightmare after months, just to find out he’s kind of… sweet. Nice to talk to, in a way you didn’t know you needed till now.

———

You two make small talk for a while over the counter. Mild, lighthearted. You learn that Mando’s a much more nuanced soul than you first assumed. Thoughtful, contemplative — careful in the way he speaks to you. You’re not used to that kind of consideration, and it’s appreciated. He’s funny, too, in a crooked kind of way. Like a mismatched puzzle piece fitting in the wrong set, bringing a bemused, entertained quirk to your lips. He conveys wry amusement surprisingly well, despite wearing no facial expression to back him up.

Now that you’re not quaking at the sight of him, your curiosity emerges. Is it a pain, lugging so much armour around? Does he sleep with the helmet on? When did he get that ship, parked just outside? Is it painful, having such a pensive heart, but evoking fear with every step?

Mainly, though, you’re just happy. The blue of his beskar is softer to the eyes, now. It’s the feeling of dipping your toes into chill, crisp waters. Testing the mood of the current, of this new depth you have yet to discover.

Being friends. What a novel idea.

Mando turns to look out the window. The day is well into the afternoon; there’s still time before sunset. “I should get going,” he states, but makes no move to shift off the desk.

There’s a twinge of disappointment. “Oh. Right, your work.” You scuff the toe of your boot against the floor. What can you say, really? One day of budding friendship doesn’t give you the right to impose.

“Yes. The Castle is… eastward, you said?”

You hum in agreement with where his finger is pointing. A shame. You thought you’d have more time with him. “Three miles through the forest,” you intone glumly. “Can’t miss it.”

Would you have to wait a cycle to see him again? More? Would you be waiting here, stuck in your idyllic, but oh-so-small corner of the galaxy, waiting for your Mandalorian to return? You purse your lips; the image doesn’t agree with you. You don’t agree with it, rather.

Finally, he straightens, and the height difference doesn’t startle you, this time. (Impresses you, maybe. Makes something giddy flutter in your chest. But you can’t afford those thoughts, can you?)

Mando tilts his helmet side to side slightly, as if he’s considering something. Weighing the pros and cons, and the action is somewhat exaggerated. You pay no heed, picking at a nail bed idly. It’s childish, sulky.

“Three miles can be travelled by foot. No need to waste the fuel.” He turns to you. “Never been through these woods before, though. Might get lost.”

In your disgruntlement, you don’t catch the leading inflection. You sigh. “I don’t think a Mandalorian would have much issue with an uninhabited forest. You’ll be fine. Just one straight path; don’t stray and it’s easy—”

Mando bends down a little, and says your name seriously, prompting you to look up. "I might get lost. Could use a guide.”

Your lips part in realisation, forming a small ‘o’. That’s what you say, too, and heat blooms in your cheeks at his static-filled snicker. He thinks he’s clever.

“So,” you start swiftly, attempting to recover your dignity. “Is it my turn to save the damsel?” He turns to the door, and you step round the desk to join him.

“I can slay my own beasts,” he snarks, and the mirth you hear is lilting. “You can return the favour, for the dragon I just scared off.”

You huff. “Hardly a dragon, I think.” With finality, you flick off the electric lights and step outside into the clean Takodana breeze.  “Wasn’t really a rescue so much as pest control.” You detect the light, spiced scent of the fragrant tree bark nearby. It grounds you to this moment. Taking in a hearty breath, you do your best to put that stinking Zabrak out of your mind.

A few hours off would be good. You barely get any guests anyway, and Maz is the understanding type. Living for millennia must do that to you.

Mando says nothing as you punch the lock code digits into the door, and start to make your way towards the forest. You know the path to the Castle like the back of your hand, like the strokes on your face, but you have never walked it with company. You smile, unabashed.

There’s a first time for everything.

———

[note: if there’s any warnings you think should be mentioned, please let me know.]

taglist: @pikapuff316 @theocatkov​ @starlite41

if you’d like to be added to, or removed from, the taglist, just give me a shout :)

[margridarnauds]

Hey, can you give us a summary about the Celtic content in AC: Valhalla? (Is there much Celtic stuff in it in general and what's wrong it?) I haven't played it yet, but I know a guy who they hired to translate Old Irish text for the game so now I'm curious what they got wrong with the Celtic parts in general since I've been looking forward to seeing those parts in Irish.

That’s actually really exciting! I didn’t know they’d hired someone on! (If you don’t mind...would you actually PM me where your man’s at? It’s unlikely, but I need to know if I have to shame any of my own nearest and dearest for being involved in this WITHOUT TELLING ME.) 

Unfortunately, I don’t have ahold of a copy myself, namely because my “gaming rig” is......outdated. And by “outdated” I mean “I can play Assassin’s Creed: Unity via GeoForce and Stardew Valley, because it is, in fact, a Mac.” A lot of what I’ve been getting is coming roughly second or third hand - Personally, I’m tempted to change that, because it’s (1) a little unfair and (2) ....I’m unfortunately very weak for this series anyway, and I’m weaker for any possible Celtic stuff. 

What I UNDERSTAND is that, in the game, there is a cult.....in 9th century (I am EMPHASIZING *9TH CENTURY*) Gloucester that worships........Cernunnos. Because that was a thing. In post-Christianized. Gloucester. (Note: Druidic practices DID survive for longer in Ireland, in various forms and with significantly less power/influence, but. Gloucester.) 

Now, we might ask ourselves: How do you worship Cernunnos? In 9th century Gloucester? Well, the answer the game developers came up with was apparently. 

With. 

The. 

Mari.

 Lwyd. 

Which, my Welshicist friend reminded me, was first attested to in the 19th century. (Also: NOT to encourage the game developers, but if you were going to bring in the Mari Lwyd and decide that Gloucester= Welsh..............why not use Rhiannon? Like, if you’re going to do this, COMMIT to it.)

And they worship Cernunnos. 

At Samhain. 

With the Mari Lwyd. 

(Just. Just say “Calan Gaeaf”.) 

And the Welsh lady’s name. Is Brigid. (Also note: .....I don’t want to be too judgemental about a game I haven’t played, but I AM going to express a SLIGHT degree of salt to the fact that I’m seeing a lot of discussion about her being “unintelligible” and how funny it is that no one can understand what she’s saying. Like, if it was a magical fantasy language, it would be one thing, but that’s suspiciously similar to how I’ve seen a lot of people deal with Welsh in the modern day, even on this website, and I do NOT appreciate it. It seems like the Welsh is accurate, from the Welsh speakers who’ve contributed, but I don’t trust leaving it untranslated and played for comedy.) 

Because. As we all know. Marginalized languages. Being labeled “unintelligible”. Is funny. 

And I would give it a pass on the Vikings not knowing it, except that apparently, our protagonist can read Ogham stones with perfect clarity so like. Come on, guys, you can do better than this. 

There is also a quest in which you can choose to let a man burn inside a wicker man or not. Because, as controversial as discussing it in the classical world is, it is also TOTALLY a thing that was done. In the 9th century. 

I did notice that there are puzzles left by Brendan the navigator that you can solve! That was actually the first thing to pique my interest. 

There IS going to be an expansion pack that features Ireland more prominently, called “Wrath of the Druids”. I fully expect to have an aneurism, since.....mythographer. This is regrettably smack dab in my area of expertise. 

But, on the plus side: 

“"Within Wrath of the Druids you will get to fight The Children of Danu [Tuatha Dé Danann] cult, discover who their members are, hunt them down and fight them. You will get to conquer ringforts, and also influence the trading systems of Dublin, which at the time was a bustling, trading metropolis."

So, it looks like you’ll be hunting down a druid cult....in 9th century Ireland (which, tbh........look, I could split hairs over the timeline here and say that they’re still at least a couple centuries off, but you know what? It’s more plausible than Gloucester.) That worships the Tuatha Dé - I expect we’ll see a scenario similar to what we saw in Curse of the Pharaohs/Dead Kings, with the cult using an Apple of Eden to conjure up images of the TDD. It goes without saying that, in 9th century Ireland, the country was THOROUGHLY Christianized, but also....Personally.....After Wales, my standards are INSANELY low, and if they let me fulfill my life’s dream of personally bitchslapping Lugh (note: in relation to recent discourse: Bitchslapping Lugh is fully in keeping to the spirit of the original myths, as demonstrated by the Milesians, who made “Bitchslapping the TDD” into a personal hobby)......I will simp. 

I have been dreaming of the day that I could bitchslap Lugh since I was 13 - Truly, this game lets you live your dreams. 

Tbh, my standards for ANYTHING like this are insanely low, so.....if I’m EVER in a position to upgrade.......I’m still most likely going to get it. I WILL say that hearing they hired someone on (I’m guessing for the expansion pack? It doesn’t look like the main game deals with it so much) for the Old Irish makes me VERY happy, and if nothing else, I can distract myself by trying to parse it out. That being said, despite that, I’m STILL hesitant because of how thoroughly they blundered the main game content. 

Also, I don’t know if you know about this one, but another time when I know they hired on someone for Old Irish was, of all places, for the TV show Grimm, specifically the episode “Star-Crossed” - If you’re looking for hearing Old Irish in pop culture. 

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//sober thoughts. kuroo tetsurou//

Warnings: slut shaming, vulgar language, swearing 

Word Count: 2K

Notes: I was listening to the Breath of the Wild soundtrack while working on this and now, I may or may not be planning on spending my weekend FINALLY beating the game on Master Mode

*Characters are aged up because I am a responsible adult who does not condone underage drinking*

*Read Part I - ‘Drunken Words’ HERE*

Honestly, he didn’t know what he was expecting when he sat down next to you in the lecture hall.  Maybe he was hoping that things would go back to how they used to be, before he made a total fool out of himself.  Maybe he was hoping that he’d be able to sit down and joke with you.  He was hoping that you’d start doodling little pictures in the margins of his notebook just like you always did when you were bored during lecture.  

But, he got none of those things.  He was welcomed by a cold silence, a quick glance up from your phone to recognize that he was there.  As he sits down in the seat next to yours, he watches you shift your body, leaning further away from him as if not wanting to be seen anywhere near him.

And who could blame you?  The videos of drunken Kuroo making all of those snide remarks, telling everyone about the relationship that you had with, had been circulating the campus all weekend.  Everywhere you went, you could feel the judgemental eyes on you, staring you down to punish you for your sins.  Even now, in a lecture hall filled with hundreds of students, people were turning their heads to get a glimpse of you and the fraternity brother who let all your secrets out after a few too many glasses.  Hushed whispers were filling the room as the rumors continued to grow and increase in severity.  Calling you any number of filthy names in the book.  

As if the guilt wasn’t already eating you alive.  The heartbreak that had crept into Daisho’s eyes as he realized that this wasn’t just Kuroo talking to talk felt like a punch to the gut.  He hadn’t even bothered to yell at you, he just walked upstairs, locking the door to his room.  You could’ve knocked on his door all night and he never would’ve answered.  You had sat outside for what seemed like hours before you heard the lock slide out of its place, the door creaking open ever so slightly as he poked his head out.  His eyes had been trained at the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.  But, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, there was no mistaking the slight puffiness to his eyes or the tightness in his voice.

“I think you should just go.”

Nothing else.  He spoke six words to you and went back into his room, locking the door tightly behind him.  You didn’t know why it hurt as much as it did.  You had said yourself that you weren’t in love with him anymore, but seeing all of the pain etched on his face overwhelmed you with guilt and Daisho wasn’t even giving you the option to try to fix things.  It was over.  Plain and simple.

It didn’t matter how many times you tried to text or call him, each one was ignored.  You showed up at the house the next day to try to talk to him, but you were turned away at the door by one of the fraternity members.  You didn’t deserve it, but you wanted to see him one more time, try to leave things off on a better note, but he wasn’t having it.  All of the pictures of you that had been posted to his Instagram were gone by the end of the night.  He was already forgetting you, obviously having no intentions of trying to work this out.

And then there was Kuroo.  To everyone around him, he was perfectly normal.  He still had his normal kind smile plastered on his face as he greeted people on campus.  He was still able to laugh and joke, this entire weekend just being funny for him.  No one was belittling him or calling him a whore.  If anything, people were high-fiving him, congratulating him on getting Daisho’s girl.  Kuroo Tetsurou’s life hadn’t even shifted.  Sure, the extra shit he got from Daisho wasn’t fun, but it was bearable.  This whole thing was so easy for him.

At least, that’s how it looked from the outside.

If anyone were to get a look inside of his mind they would see the same scene playing in his mind, the loop never seeming to end.  That look of shock painted so sadly on your face as he finally said what he had been hinting at throughout his entire drunken rampage.  Those solemn eyes staring up at him, mouth open as if you wanted to say something, but then closing as you come to realize that nothing could save you.  He broke whatever trust had been built between the two of you and now, he was being pushed away as you put up another wall around yourself.  Kuroo was getting pats on the backs, fist-bumps, and high-fives from guys he didn’t even know.  They would simply say, “Man, I saw the video! Epic!” and leave him to carry on with his day, unaware of the guilt gnawing away at him, worsened by the fact that it seemed that everyone around him had seen that stupid video.  

So, when he sat down next to you, he wasn’t expecting to be completely ignored, but he couldn’t say that he was surprised either.  But, you both carried on throughout the class like normal, silently taking notes, glancing over at the other’s notebook to copy something missed, phones being checked for the time every few minutes.  

1:51 p.m.

The sounds of students shuffling to put their books away echoes throughout the lecture hall, quiet conversations being held between friends filling the air. But, nothing could fill the awkward silence that enveloped the area that surrounded you both.  It’s not like he wanted to stand there in silence, eyes locked on you trying to fit your binder back into your bag, but what was he supposed to say?

“Kuroo?”

Amber eyes snap up to meet yours and he sees you adjusting your bag onto your shoulders.  He’s pulled out of whatever mental games that he had been playing with himself, expecting you to start the conversation that he had been anticipating all weekend.  But, his “Yeah?” was only met with:

“You’re blocking the aisle.”

“Oh, right, yeah.  Sorry, about that,” he mutters, shouldering his own bag to move out of your way.  But, the slight bounce to your hair as you walked away, the soft pat pat pat of your well-loved sneakers against the tile floor, the various enamel pins that you had stuck to your bag, glinting off the harsh lighting of the classroom.  He wasn’t ready to let all of that go just yet.  He wasn’t ready to let go of all of the time that he had spent with you.  Kuroo wasn’t ready to let go of you.

Before he could even second guess himself, Kuroo’s fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping you from moving another step away from him.  “Y/N.”

“Kuroo, let me go.  I have class.”

“No, you don’t.  It’s Tuesday and on Tuesday’s you have Italian in the morning, you used to go take a nap at the house afterwards, and then we’d walk to lecture together.  Don’t lie to me.”

“Well, don’t you have class?  You should get going,” you argue, trying to get out of his grasp, but Kuroo’s fingers only tighten around your wrist.   

“I’ll be late.  I don’t care.  Please, can we just talk?”

“What the hell is there to talk about, Kuroo?  Do you want to call me a bitch?  A slut?  There’s nothing to talk about as far as I’m concerned.  I’m done!  Do you know how many random guys are harassing me, asking if I can give them head, see if I’m as good as you say I am?  You may just get to laugh Friday night off, but I can’t!”

“I’m so-”

“I don’t care!  Your apologies aren’t going to make this all magically disappear.  This whole thing was a mistake, Kuroo.  I threw everything away.  I was stupid and now Suguru hates me.  He won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me!”

“But, didn’t you say-”

“I know what I said!  I know that I told you that I didn’t love him, but you should’ve seen him, Kuroo.  I don’t remember the last time that I’ve seen him so upset and knowing that he was that hurt because I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life? Seeing him so close to me, but so stupidly far away, because he didn’t want anything to do with me? That hurt and it still hurts.”  You pause, turning away from him.  A little laugh leaves your lips.  “You just- You wouldn’t understand.”

The grip that Kuroo has on your wrist releases as he drops his hand down to his side.  “I wouldn’t understand?  What makes you think that?  Just because I didn’t cheat on my high school boyfriend, doesn’t mean that I feel good about what happened either!”

“You ruined a relationship with someone that you already didn’t like.  Do you want me to buy you ice cream for your loss?”  You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.  “I know that after all of this, it probably seems like I don’t care about him, but I really do.  He- he was good to me and he didn’t deserve this, but I fucked up and now I can’t do anything to fix it,” you say, your voice straining to get through your sentences without falling apart as all of the shame comes bubbling back up.  “I hurt someone that I cared about, Kuroo.”

“What?  And you think I didn’t?  Y/N, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t buy you coffee after lab because I just want to be your friend.  I don’t put granola bars in my bag because I know you always wake up too late to eat before class, because I just think of you as someone that I’m sleeping with.  I don’t carry around a pack of your favorite pens for me.  Whether you like it or not, I love you.  And I know that this is the worst possible time to say it, but I love you and I was too stupidly drunk to realize that I was hurting you before it was too late.”  Kuroo runs his hand through his hair, exasperatedly pushing his fringe back.  “I keep thinking about how sad you looked and every time I see that in my head, it feels like someone just stabbed me in the heart.  I know that my apologies aren’t going to fix a damn thing, but I’m sorry, Y/N, really.  And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re any of those things that people are calling you.  I still think that you’re the same person that I fell in love with.”

His words catch you off guard.  After everything, Kuroo Tetsurou is professing his love to you in the middle of a poorly lit university building, students slowing down as they try to overhear what’s going on between the two of you.   Part of you already knew it deep down, but you had hoped that his feelings would just go away and your arrangement could go back to what it was meant to be.  Seeing that you were likely not to give him an answer, Kuroo spoke up once more before turning to leave you.

“I know that I can’t tell you what to do, but I care about you, really.  So, remember, that I’ll always be in your corner.  I want it to be us versus the world, but I’m okay with just supporting you from the sidelines.  I just want you to be happy, okay?”

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

** Writing Challenge **

I know, I know, my next one isn’t quite wrapped up yet, buttttt this idea came to me when my cousin and I were taking a walk down a ridiculous part of Memory Lane and I got excited. I’m guessing this has been done before at some point -- that’s not stopping me from presenting to you: 

I love fluff. And I wanna see more of it! 

Below the cut you will find some prompts that, in the context of Twilight, are absolutely cringe-worthy. My challenge to you is to take that prompt and make it something we can love. 

Disclaimer: I’m not Twilight-shaming ANYONE. I literally sat and watched all of Eclipse and now want to watch both Breaking Dawns. It’s more about sentiment, and the occasional girly giggle for me, but ... yeah. No judgement here, friends. 

Guidelines, prompts, and tags are below the cut! (Yes, I copied and tweaked from my last writing challenge. I’m being efficient, thank you! :P )

Please read all of the information carefully!

Rules, Guidelines, Important Dates:

Sign-Ups start when this post is live and will go through to December 30, 2020. I will accept two people for each prompt, one prompt per author.

Please send your sign-ups to my ask box so they’re easier to keep track of. I will answer them privately so I’m not flooding anyone’s dash!

In your ask, please include your preferred prompt and a backup option, as well as your pairing (so I don’t take the same pairing for the same prompt). Also, please let me know if you’ll be posting from a URL other than one you’re asking from.

To be included in the challenge masterlist, please post your fic (or the first part, if it’s a series) by Decemeber 31, 2020.

Please include an author’s note tagging me and mentioning the challenge in your fic post; include #BetterThanTwilightWC in the first five tags. If the tag doesn’t work, you may DM the link to me, also. If you decide to write a series, please tag me in the masterlist.

Please give me up to 48 hours to read your fic before checking if I have seen it. If I have not liked it after 48 hours, please DO check. (You know, since we’re all aware of how unreliable tumblr is. And how unreliable my mind can be. Yikes.)

The challenge masterlist will be posted between January 1 and January 4, 2020.

There are no word count limits, but please use the Keep Reading feature if your story goes beyond 500 words. Additionally, if your fic goes beyond 5000 words, please consider splitting it into multiple parts. This is not a requirement, only something to think about.

Yes, this is a FLUFF challenge, so you MUST have fluff as your main genre. You’re more than welcome to include other genres, but you MUST have a happy and/or hopeful ending.

You’re welcome to think outside of the box! Just because I’m talking Twilight and love stories, doesn’t mean there has to be romance! Give me  amazing friendships or strong family bonds or self-love. Or romance! Whatever you’d like. 

You're welcome to change pronouns in the prompt as necessary! Heck, I tweaked a few of ‘em so they’re not Twilight-specific.

For personal reasons, I do not read and will not accept into the challenge (which means I will not reblog or add to the masterlist) stories that include: non-con/dub-con, underage sex, adult-child romantic/sexual relationships, spouse-bashing, child abuse – I could go on, but I think you get the idea. If you’re not sure about something, I’m always happy to answer questions!

Bring on the ships, OC’s, reader pairings – I’m trying to be more open-minded as of late, but I can’t promise that I will read everything. Again, for personal reasons. But I will reblog everything! 

Characters and RPFs from Marvel/MCU are both welcome. 

If you need an extension or need to drop out, please know that I am extremely flexible when it comes to that deadline/due date. In the words of Captain Barbosa, “It’s really more of a guideline.” Just shoot me an ask or a message and we’ll work something out, no worries! 

Prompts: 

1. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”  2. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.”  3. “I know what you are.”  4. “You held out your hand and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing.” 5. “You have a connection with her that I’ll never understand.” 6. “I’m glad she has you.” 7. “It will be like I never existed. I promise.” 8. “I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Brings me happiness.” 9. “That will take a while to get used to.” “We have a while.” 10. “What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” 11. “I’d rather hear your theories.” 12. (sarcastically) “Super. That makes me really happy.” 13. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” 14. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross. I should be thoroughly repulsed.” 15. “It’s an extraordinary thing to meet someone who you can bare your soul to and they’ll accept you for what you are.” 16. “I’ve been waiting for what seems like a very long time to get beyond what I am.” 17. “I feel like I can finally begin.” 18. “He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” 19. “He did say I couldn’t step inside the door. I came in through the window.” 20. “I know things. Like how to hunt somebody to the ends of the earth. And I know how to use a gun.” 21. “Now I’m afraid.” “Good.” 22. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you.” 23.  “About three things I was absolutely positive ...” 24. “You’re so stubborn.” 25. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” 26. “I can’t even think about someone hurting you.” 27. “The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.” 28. “Don’t antagonize her. She’s the strongest one in the house.” 29. “All right. That’s enough experimenting for one day.” 30. “It never made sense for you to love me.” 31. “I wish there had been someone to vote no for me.” 32. “It’s just a little baby.” 33. “How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?” 34. “I’m not missing another fight!” 35. “No one can hide like me.” 36. “If I asked you to stay in the car, would you?” 37. “I have one condition, if you want me to do it myself.” 38. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common. You can Google it.” 39. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” 40. “I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” 41. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 42. “Can you talk about something else? Distract me so I won’t turn around.” 43. “I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.” 44. “After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?” 45. “Maybe that’s why they kicked me out.” 46. “All of my best nights have happened since I met you.” 47. “You know everybody’s staring?” “Not that guy ... no, he just looked.” 48. “She wishes she was that awesome.” 49. “Does he visit often?” “Yeah, all the time.” 50. “Lie ... Lie better.” 51. “I’m Switzerland.” 52. “That should have been our first kiss.” 53. “Would you like to hear my story? It doesn’t have a happy ending -- but which of ours does?” 54. “Another party?” “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” 55. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. I will always be yours.” 56. “The way he watches you. It’s like he’s willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something.” 57. “Kill me! Not him!” 58. “Stay.” “Give me one good reason.” 59. “Yeah, it’s and off day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” 60. “Damn it! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” 61. “If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not afraid of it.” 62. “Do I dazzle you?” 63. “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.” 64. “Bring on the shackles, I’m your prisoner.” 65. “You are my life now.” 66. “And then we continued blissfully into this small, perfect piece of our forever.” 67. “Nobody’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.” 68. “I don’t know what happened.” “You love him.” 69. “All of sudden it’s not gravity holding you to the planet, it’s her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her.” 70. “You really love her?” 71. “I don’t see the whole point of the rest of the world without her.” 72. “Then I found a promising site ... I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicked closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally, the screen finished -- simple, white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:” 73. “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” 74. “I’ll be fighting for her, too, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.” 75. “It’s always been him.” 76. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” 77. “They’re coming for her.” “They’re not gonna touch her.” 78. “Doesn’t he own a shirt?” 79. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re enemies and that you’re also trying to steal away the reason for my existence, I might actually like you.” 80. “You have disappeared. Like everything else.” 81. “The absence of him is everywhere I look.” 82. “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.” 83. “Your number was up the first time I met you.” 84. “We all like to drive fast.” 85. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” 86. “I’ve never given much thought to how I’d die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go.” 87. “Don’t tempt me too far. My patience isn’t that perfect.” 88. “His tone questions my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfect delivered line by a skilled actor.” 89. “What’s he mad about?” 90. “No measure of time with you will ever be enough.” 91. “I promise to love you forever, every single day of forever.” 92. “We’re gonna be great friends!” 93. “If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing him.” 94. “Until your heart stops beating.” 95. “I touched the cool miracle of his ski, and I was home.” 96. “Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.” 97. “This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions. This is the time to make mistakes.” 98. “Leave it to you ... you have to start hanging out with the first weirdos you can find.” 99. “I love him much more than I should, and yet still nowhere near enough.” 100. “I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes.”

Tags for possible interest/signal boosting (if you’re so inclined): 

 @captain-s-rogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @horsesandbandsforlife​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shynara51​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sea040561​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @beakami​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @shield-agent78​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @jennmurawski13​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[purplellamanator]

Hello 👋 I was tagged by @fanarain 💜 thanks for the tag!

1. Why did you choose your url?

Honestly? I’m terrible at making usernames. Like horrendous. I’m always lost as to what to make it. So I made it in a split decision based off things I was thinking about or doing that day. My favorite color is purple, I had an inside joke with a friend about llamas, and at the time was watching terminator 2 judgement day. So I combined it all. 😂

2. Any side blogs? If you have any, name them!

This is actually my side blog. @the-iron-tator is my main but I don’t do much on or with it! I probably honestly should’ve made side blogs for my different fandoms cause I know people only follow me for certain things, but it’s too much to keep up for me 🤷‍♀️

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

I honestly have no idea. If there’s a way to figure that out, I’m not sure how 😂 it’s been awhile tho. I wanna say I had this side blog since the beginning of 2019 cause I made it specifically to post my fanfic. But I had the main for way longer I think.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

I don’t think so 😬

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

So I started this side blog specifically so I could write and post my fanfic without shame. Also so that it could be a feed for all the fanfic I found and loved reading on here. Another reason why I never made another side blog. Cause I wanted all my fandom stuff on one page for me.

6. Why did you choose your icon?

Because The Little Mermaid has been and will always be my favorite Disney movie.

7. Why did you choose your header?

I really have no actual answer for this 😂 I was making the side blog and realized I needed one and so that’s what was on my camera roll for some reason 😅 and it made me nostalgic for when I was younger 😂

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

I actually have no clue. I know someone mentioned a way to figure this out but I can’t remember. I’m pretty sure it’s some drabble I posted on here for asks! Maybe the Wild West one for shinran?

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I think quite a few! We all pop in and go sometimes! I’d like to think quite a bit of em!

10. How many followers do you have?

So this side blog has 228! May not look like much for some but that’s a lot to me and I’m surprised but extremely thankful that people take the time to look at my page 😊

11. How many people do you follow?

194!! I think some of the accounts are probably dead by now but oh well! If you have even just some of my interests, I will probably follow and spam with reblog a and stuff 😂 yes I’m one of those

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

No? I don’t think so. . .

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

A LOT. Too much to put an honest time on 😂

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog before? If so, who won?

Nope. Don’t like fights. This is a place of fandom. I try to keep that out.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

So honestly, they are a bit annoying. I actually won’t do some of them for that reason unless it’s a cause or reason I strongly agree with. Which isn’t normally the case. Or rather, this is a fandom blog. No one wants to see that clogging up the page when all you wanna do is reason some fanfic or look at some fanart. I like to keep that kind of stuff off. Also cause sometimes people don’t agree with you. But I never liked that. That if you don’t ‘reblog a post’ your an ass or something. Like no. If anything, that steers people away from what you want. Or similar to the posts where they are like, don’t even talk to me if you like x,y, or z. Like okay 🤷‍♀️ that doesn’t hurt anybody but you. 😂 sometimes, even if I agree that I don’t like x, y, or z, I’ll unfollow or stay away because that just gives a certain attitude that I don’t vibe with. Just like I’m sure there are people that don’t vibe well with me 🤷‍♀️

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes! They are fun and even if no one reads your response, it’s nice to get thoughts out sometimes!

17. Do you like ask games?

Let’s just be clear and say that I like games in general 😂

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

All of them! I think they are all popular in their own way! I probably wouldn’t of found them otherwise!

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Negative

Sorry! I am still working and on break! Can’t tag anyone but if you see this and wanna join, feel free to do so and tag me so I can see 👀

[informationsorter]

What is 3 stage therapy?

You may often hear people talk about 3 stage or 3 phase therapy. Maybe you’ve heard someone say “I’ve been doing a lot of stage 2 work in therapy lately”. This refers to “ PHASE-ORIENTED TREATMENT APPROACH “ as laid out in the ISSTD treatment guide. This is a guide that therapists follow for the treatment of DID/OSDD. *This post is very long, but I have tried to break it into sections to make it easier.* The guide states: “ Over the past two decades, the consensus of experts is that complex trauma-related disorders—including DID—are most appropriately treated in sequenced stages. “ This has been advocated for since at least the late 19th century. “ The most common structure across the field consists of three phases or stages: 1. Establishing safety, stabilization, and symptom reduction; 2. Confronting, working through, and integrating traumatic memories; and 3. Identity integration and rehabilitation. “ This roughly means that phase 1 work relates to your “general” therapy. Helping you get our ducks in a row, ready to begin stage 2. Stage 2 is about addressing the trauma you’ve experienced. This is tough and emotionally gruelling work, and it is highly recommended that you do not attempt this type of work without a trained and trusted mental health professional. Stage 3 is about “integration” - this does not necessarily mean fusing the identities into one state of self. It can simply refer to developing a healthy and cooperative harmony between a person’s identities/alters. “In addition to PTSD symptoms, persons with complex PTSD have major difficulties with dissociation, affect regulation, body image distortions, self-injury, chronic suicidality, and somatization. They may have substantial relational pathologies, including problems with trust and revictimization in violent or abusive relationships. They often view the world as dangerous and traumatizing and tend to see themselves as shameful, damaged, and responsible for their own abuse.”   Now what does this hefty paragraph mean? Well, in layman’s terms it means “we’re fucked up bro”. If you have childhood trauma and/or PTSD, in addition to the PTSD symptoms a person with DID/OSDD will likely have some/many of the following issues: - dissociate - have unstable emotional or logic states - have an incorrect view of their physical appearance (including dysmorphia, dysphoria, anorexia) - self harm - suicidal ideation (that is: wanting to die, or fantasising about killing oneself) - comorbid disorders - trust issues - revictimization (that is: putting yourself intentionally or unintentionally into abusive situations, particularly abusive relationships) - chronic shame and - a deep “need” to blame themselves for what happened to them. These are all issues which need to be addressed in therapy. Sometimes you may need a network of health professionals to help you heal. These could include a General Practitioner (Doctor), psychotherapist, trauma specialist, a specialist in sexual disorders, a nutritionist, psychiatrist, speech therapist, behavioural therapist, and more. It is important that any of your treating health professionals work together towards your best interests, and that you can trust them.

“ Treatment for complex PTSD resembles that of DID in that it is often of longer duration, is multimodal and relatively eclectic, and is designed to address the multitude of clinical difficulties with which these patients struggle.  “ This means that the treatment for PTSD and the treatment for DID/OSDD will be similar, and will take place over a long time period. The frequency of your sessions is between you and your treating health professional/s, but you shouldn’t expect to see a miracle overnight. For many it takes years of therapy before they even start stage 2 work. It’s not a race, you can’t rush it, and there is no reason to compare your healing journey to others’.

“ Phase 1: Establishing Safety, Stabilization, and Symptom Reduction

In the initial phase of treatment, emphasis should be placed on establishing a therapeutic alliance, educating patients about diagnosis and symptoms, and explaining the process of treatment. The goals of Phase 1 treatment include maintaining personal safety, controlling symptoms, modulating affect, building stress tolerance, enhancing basic life functioning, and building or improving relational capacities “

Phase one will start your healing journey at whatever pace is right for you, and will lay the foundation for phase two work.

This is important because in phase two work, you may become overwhelmed, and you will need to rely on the skills you developed in phase one, as well as relying at times on the trust you’ve built with your therapist.

“ Phase 2: Confronting, Working Through, and Integrating Traumatic Memories

In this phase of treatment, the focus turns to working with the DID patient’s memories of traumatic experiences. Effective work in this phase involves remembering, tolerating, processing, and integrating overwhelming past events. This work includes the process of abreaction—the release of strong emotions in connection with an experience or perception (usually a past experience or perceptions of a past experience) “

Phase two is about facing the ghosts of your past, under the guidance of your trusted therapist. It will be hard, and it may even feel like it’s too much and you can’t do it.

If you are feeling like you can’t handle it, you MUST tell your therapist.

You should never push through without letting your therapist know how you are feeling. Your therapist will help you assess what changes need to be made so that you can continue getting the most out of therapy.

Some common changes are:

- extending the length of a therapy session, to include a cool-down or recovery period

- strengthening coping mechanisms which may not be “strong” enough

- changing the frequency of sessions

“ Phase 3: Integration and Rehabilitation

In Phase 3 of DID treatment, patients make additional gains in internal cooperation, coordinated functioning, and integration. They usually begin to achieve a more solid and stable sense of self and sense of how they relate to others and to the outside world. In this phase, DID patients may continue to fuse alternate identities and improve their functioning. They may also need to revisit their trauma history from a more unified perspective. “

Phase three is the phase where you will really have to decide whether to “

fuse

” all alters, or whether you want 

“functional multiplicity”

.

The guidelines allow for both of these options, so don’t be scared that your therapist will try to force one or the other.

There is also no judgement about which one you choose - it’s about what is right for you (/your system).

In phase three you will tighten up the skills you already learnt, and possibly relearn them from a new perspective.

Some alters may not have learnt or mastered the therapy skills that other alters have, which means these skills may need to be learnt again.

If some or all of your alters decide to “fuse”, the resulting identity/identities may need to relearn some of these skills as well.

* All quotes taken from: https://www.isst-d.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/GUIDELINES_REVISED2011.pdf *

If you would like a more detailed look at what each phase may contain, please visit:

Stage one work: www.dis-sos.com/trauma-therapy-stabilization/ Stage two work: www.dis-sos.com/trauma-work/

[mattzerella-sticks]

A Healing Touch/New Experiences

15x17 coda, Post-Finale, Dean/Cas, Adam, Serafina, Sam, Jack, 2/2 chapters, 4.7k

Chapter 1: A Healing Touch (ao3 link)

Maybe if Cas hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have agreed to Adam's offer. But with free will finally theirs, Cas made his choice, and Dean his. Now he has to live with the consequences - even if they are awkward. He won't die from it, certainly.

It's only a massage.

But what Dean doesn't know, is that it's more than a massage. It's healing.

           Dean’s grip tensed on the towel, pulling its fabric closer against his waist. Terrycloth rubbing his crotch like sandpaper, making him even more aware of his current state of undress than he already was.

           Damn Adam, for talking him into this. The placid cadence of the First Man wreaked havoc with Dean’s judgement. Lulled him into a false sense of security. Now that his armor’s been cast off, Dean realizes how terrible an idea this really is. Briefly, Dean considers turning tail and jumping back into his outfit. Pretend this never happened. Play dumb. But then Adam emerges, parting the beaded curtains and motioning him towards a table set up in the middle of the room. Dean trudges along, window of opportunity slammed on his fingers.

           “Relax Dean,” Adam croons, lighting one of the many candles that surrounds the room. Interspersed with crystals, totems, and an incense stick that suspiciously smells like a VW van at a concert. “This is going to be a transcendent experience.”

           “If you say so…” He sits, kicking his feet. Hunched over, spine protesting from the angle. Ignores twinging pain with practiced ease.

           Doesn’t matter how well he masks it in the other man’s presence; Adam arches a brow at Dean and orders him to lay down. “You’ll feel better that way.”

           He stills, clutching at the towel with both hands. Frozen with an unnamed emotion Dean swears isn’t fear. Staring with wide eyes at Adam while the other man waits. Finally, he breaks the silence, “Can’t you just… do my shoulders?”

           “I will,” Adam promises, drifting closer, “Along with your sides… your back… anywhere I believe you might need.” He brushes featherlight fingers across his chin, a scant distance from actually touching it. Lips stretched in a lazy smile. “If it’ll make you more comfortable, though, I’ll look away while you get settled.”

           Dean clears his throat, gaze darting away. “You will?”

           “While I don’t agree with your shame,” he says, pulling back, “I understand it. How it works. So, when you’re ready to start, let me know.” Adam spins on his heel, grabbing for tinctures and potions on a nearby counter. Mixes them. Feigns busyness while Dean readies himself.

           He slides off the table, glancing from Adam to the exit. Wonders if he can sprint fast enough, snatch his clothes, and jump into his Baby. Put Santa Fe in his rearview, even if it meant leaving Cas. Finding a new path home would serve him right, abandoning Dean immediately for Serafina. Former and current angel leaving for lunch, catching up after millennia apart. Dean stuck with Adam. Biding time, making awkward small talk; listening as he rambled on about differing memories patchworked together while he played hopscotch through his timeline. So bored and confused he didn’t realize what Adam offered until he locked the bathroom door behind Dean, instructions rattling around in his head. Towel in his arms instead of around his waist.

           “Dean,” Adam chimes in, laughing, “I’m almost done.”

           Thinking, not acting, wasted too much time. No other options left Dean unfastened his towel. Held it while he climbed onto the table, carefully lying down. Adjusting his junk so his weight wouldn’t crush it. Then, face pressed into the appropriate hole, Dean fixed the towel. End hanging off the edges, censored his freckled ass from view. “Okay,” he says, croaking the next few words out. “I’m all set.”

           “Perfect.”

           Dean nearly asks when Adam will start. As soon as the question forms in his throat, he swallows it. Adam’s wet, warm touch sliding over his back. Spreads a slick substance that makes his skin goosepimple when the air meets it. Elicits a sudden, breathy response from Dean. “Sorry,” Adam apologizes, continuing his ministrations, “probably should’ve warned you?”

           “Would’ve been nice…”

           “Well, we can’t go back, now can we?” He kneads Dean’s shoulders, loosening a tight muscle with his thumb. “Let me do all the work…” Adam speaks aloud, calling on a nearby smart device. Tells it to play a certain playlist, whining strums pouring from his speakers. Dean rolls his eyes. The added hippie music only pours salt in the wound. “You’ve got a lot of knots, Dean.”

           “I’m not surprised,” Dean says, “the stuff I do? My body’s been through the wringer.”

           “You should take better care of your body, Dean. We only get the one.”

           “Yeah, we do…” Dean sighs, shifting. Too aware of Adam’s touch. Counting the differences between his expectations and the reality. They’re softer than what he expected a man’s hands should feel like. And gentler. These motions were more tender than Dean was used to, especially from a stranger. Part of him wants this over with, while a stronger, quieter part begs for more. He shifts, squirming. “Hey, what’s this you’re rubbing me with?”

           “Oh, the oil?” Adam laughs, pinching his sides, “I had it specially delivered from some small town I last visited years ago, in Morocco. When it was all the rage, kids fleeing for the East in search of enlightenment. This herbalist was teaching in the streets…”

           Dean tunes Adam out like he did the music, drowning his voice in the waves of his mind. Lets it sink deep below while Dean splashes around shallower waters. Like how this trip was planned.

           After Chuck, after the Empty – after their last cosmic showdown, the Winchesters faced a new challenge. An ordinary day. It’s been years since Dean could wake without worrying he forgot something. Walk and not look over his shoulder, at where he imagined someone with vengeance in their eyes and death in his future. Greet his family and not doubt that he will see them later.

           It’s everything Dean wanted. Except he couldn’t handle it.

           Sitting at the breakfast table, his family discussing pointless, trivial affairs, Dean broke. Maybe because of Sam’s bright smile while talking about a road trip he planned with Eileen, or Jack’s list of shows he wanted to watch. Maybe it was when he caught Cas’s gaze, his foot nudging at Dean’s, with a well of emotions Dean hadn’t deserved. Similar to that horrid night, although less sadness darkening his expression. Less blood staining his hands. Dean flashed between those two images and stood, hitting his knee on the table. Left with a meager and suspicious excuse.

           Somehow, an endless cycle of near-death experiences made things simpler. Being trapped in a never-ending story meant exactly that. They would live forever. Exist in the unknown, remain unchanged.

           Now that freedom is truly his, what will he do? How will he end? Will he become someone he doesn’t like? Will people he thought would stay forever slip out of his grasp? Does he go first and leave so many people behind?

           He couldn’t sleep those next few nights. Cas caught on after his third bout with insomnia, bags heavy under his eyes. Looked across the canyon from his side of the bed, arms curled tight around himself. Chained there. “What’s wrong, Dean?” His fingers twitched in aborted need. Another easy piece that proved more difficult to fit into place. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

           Dean stared at Cas. Saw the streaks of grey that tickled his hairline, and little crusts around his eyes from sleep. Reminders of how fast things can change, and what little they have left in the tank. If Cas were an angel, he thought, they’d have more time. Can stay alive through his grace, healing even the littlest signs of age. Like Serafina did with Adam.

           It slipped out like a leak, and then poured free. Inch given; mile taken. Frantically repeating how he met the First Man who loved an angel, and they lived normal lives in Santa Fe, and they seemed weird but in love, and –

           “Okay,” Cas said, “we’ll go visit them.”

           “Dean,” Adam whispers. Dean creaks an eye open from below the surface. “Where were you just now?”

           His heart lurches. “Can’t really go anywhere, now can I?”

           “Only in the physical sense,” he tells Dean, “your body can be here, but you can also be a million miles away.” Adam kneads harder on his back, forcing a grunt through Dean’s clenched teeth as he poked a sore muscle. “What’s more important that you’ve allowed your mind to wander far from the present?” He stops massaging, bending. Meets Dean’s squinted gaze. “Would you rather not be here?”

           “What did I ever do to give that impression?”

           Adam doesn’t flinch from Dean’s bite, smirking at him. Followed by an airy laugh that sounds nicer than it should. “Y’know, my hands can only do so much,” he continues, standing. Clawing at Dean with blunt nails, repetitively raking patterns like he were a rock garden. “Massages are a give and take. I can only leech away what you’re willing to part with. And there’s a mountain of stress buried here you’re still holding onto.”

           “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean growls. Closing his eyes hard enough white, hot stars burst from behind his lids. “Maybe you’re a shitty masseuse?”

           “Nah, I’ve been doing this since Alexander the Great was in toga diapers. Can’t be that.”

           “Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re any good.”

           “That’s true.” Adam pinches Dean’s lower back, at the dip right where his ass curves from beneath the towel. Electricity jolts along his nerves, up his spine, and makes Dean bite his lip. “Then let’s say my intuition is sounding the alarm you’re blocked.”

           Dean snorts, “Then give me some Pepto and we’ll call it a day.” Another pinch. This time his knee jerks, foot jumping into the air. “Can you quit it?”

           “When you start taking this seriously.”

           “Sorry,” he says, each syllable drenched in sarcasm. “I didn’t think your types took anything seriously.”

           Adam places his hand on Dean’s neck. Touch shocks him enough he lifts his head, finding the other’s stern expression. “If not for me,” he says, “then Castiel.”

           He still feels Adam on his neck, and the second hand hangs at his side, shiny. Yet there must be a third. Because how else can Dean explain the pain in his side as anything other than a stab wound. Knife stuck there, cruelly twisted, cutting his insides further. Dean subtly nods, going slack. Adam guides his head back to its resting spot. Resumes petting him with much more severity. Each stroke like a match scraping against a striking surface, sparking but never lighting.

           “Do you feel my hands, Dean?”

           “Am I supposed to feel anything else?” Dean grouses, “Because if this is you coming onto me…”

           Adam squeezes Dean’s ass over the towel, Dean yelping. “Why I’ll admit you’re a beauty, my heart is spoken for. As is yours.”

           Dean waits as the coiled heat in his stomach unravels, breathing raggedly all the while. “Yeah,” he says, “I can feel your hands.”

           “Good,” Adam says, “and how do my hands on your body feel?”

           “Um… good? I guess? Like any other massage.”

           “You’ve gotten other massages before?”

           “When I could, I guess.”

           “And your masseuses,” Adam asks, coating more of the oil along his shoulders, “were any of them men.”

           No. “Why does that matter?”

           “I’m just asking,” Adam says, “guessing, actually, if your hesitation during this process has something to do with my gender expression.” He rubs at his biceps, fondling them. “So I’ll ask again – have you ever been massaged by a man.”

           He’s fought with countless men. Punches and kicks and elbows at throats acceptable foreplay. Love bites that stung far too long, bled too much. Shook hands with many hunters while crossing America during his early years where he was figuring himself out. Their intimidating grip thrilling Dean more than they should while near his father. John’s idea of what makes a man still living in his mind, a shadow that won’t disappear no matter how many curtains he draws or lights he turns on. Persistent.

           Sometimes Cas’s hand lingered, back when their relationship was new. Finding its footing despite Chuck’s story. He blamed it on his angel’s inexperience with humanity. But the more he stayed on Earth, the longer they lasted. More significant. A game of chicken, each daring the other to drop first.

           That’s the most intimate he’s ever been with another man.

           It’s been too long since he and Cas touched like that. Circling, never committing. Losing before the game starts.

           “I…” Adam’s touch feels different, headier. Matchhead catching, flame bursting atop it. He sighs, “I’ve never been massaged by a man.”

           Adam hums, “You’ve never had the opportunity?”

           “I’m pretty sure I’ve had lots of opportunities,” Dean tells him, “I just… never took them.” He shrugs as best he can. Sighing when Adam brushes one of his love handles, scratching it. Warm delight making Dean’s toes curl. “It wasn’t something a guy like me was supposed to do.”

           “Supposed to,” Adam parrots, “someone else was making these decisions for you?”

           Bristling, Dean shifts as if to raise his head again. Adam shoves at Dean, keeping him there. Adds an ounce of pressure that should stoke his anger. However, Dean responds with no retaliation. Stills, and when Adam removes his hand, continues talking. “I made these decisions,” Dean tells Adam, “I… there were a lot of expectations, being me. People I couldn’t disappoint. If they knew I went to get… massages, by men… things might not have been the same.”

           “Even if it hurt denying this part of yourself?” he asks, “Suffocating it because other people had opinions on how you should live your life?”

           Dean scowls despite how dedicated Adam works at kneading the skin above his tailbone. “You wouldn’t understand, okay. Being the first person gives you leeway, make your own rules. I was born into a certain role – there was an image I had to fit. If I wanted to survive and I… and it got easy, over time. I wasn’t hurting anyone –“

           “You were hurting yourself.”

           “I’m used to it.”

           Adam reacts violently, nicking Dean’s hip hard enough he expects blood. But his thumb soothes the spot, caresses it far more lovingly than Dean thinks is appropriate. He doesn’t voice his concerns. Busy thinking about the sudden callouses he feels on Adam’s thumb.

           “That’s a dangerous point of view to have, Dean,” Adam warns, drawing him from the off-ramp. “How can you speak so carelessly about yourself like that?”

           “I… I – uh…” Dean had a response. A common one he trotted out whenever a question like this appeared. Now, he finds the stable empty. He has nothing. “I…”

           “You’ve been given a wonderful gift, Dean. The gift called life. Gone are the oppressive forces steering your judgement. Controlling how you grow.” Adam’s voice rises, passion seeping into his skin. Mixing with the oils, providing a euphoric numbness. “Now is when you should slash through those bindings and grow into the person you were always meant to be!”

           “What if I…”

           “Hmm?” Adam stops massaging him. The music ended at some point, leaving only silence. “What if you what?”

           Dean slowly rises from the face hole, Adam not fighting him this time. Leans on his elbows, staring at the floor. At the small droplet that splattered there. “What if I don’t like that person?” he mutters, “What if I look in the mirror one morning and I don’t… don’t recognize that it’s my reflection. What if I become someone so wholly different now that I… now that I can grow, and change, that I lose parts of myself. Lose my family, because they don’t like who I’ve become?”

           Adam’s hand rests on his shoulder, fingers curling over a spot that doesn’t belong to him. When other people touched it, his skin crawled. Itched like fire ants crawled and bit. It’s the opposite feeling, with Adam’s hand. As if Dean’s soul breached through the shadows and filled him with so much light, he could overpower the sun. But only one other person has ever made him feel like that…

           “If your family truly loves you, Dean,” Adam says, stepping into view. Guides Dean’s gaze from his feet towards his face using both hands. Smiling, “Then they love your most core, basic parts of yourself. And those, I know, will stick with you as you journey into a new era of self-exploration. Just as they will. You shouldn’t be afraid of change. It is the most powerful force in existence. Change cannot be stopped, cannot be controlled… how we choose to respond to it, however, is where humanity finds its freedom.” He lets go, drifting backwards into Serafina’s waiting arms.

           There’s still a hand on his shoulder.

           Dean turns. Instead of a thin, linen shirt, there’s a starched white button-down. Blue tie where he expected a scarf and chunky necklace. Dark hair with touches of gray, and blue eyes rimmed red with tears. “Cas…”

           “Dean…” he says, squeezing his shoulder, “I love you. I… I won’t ever leave you.”

           “How can you promise that, Cas?” he asks, “How do you know that? We’ve… what if Chuck was the only thing keeping us together? What do we do now that he’s gone?”

           “We live Dean… day by day.” Cas kneels, pressing a thumb against his chin. “You’re right, I can’t be certain about the future. None of us can, not anymore. But, before Chuck, all I saw was bleakness. Now that he’s gone… after every hardship we’ve been through, the clouds have parted. It finally looks bright. And we could have a thousand more days or one more day, but in this moment Dean I want to experience everything with you.” He kisses him, breathing that promise into his body. Words mingling with his heart and soul. “My first, and most important act of rebellion was loving you. In these few years we’ve known each other I’ve lived more than I ever have. I’ve grown, not because of Chuck or despite of Chuck… but on my own terms. And you’re still here, with me.”

           “Cas I…” Dean knocks their foreheads together, “You’re someone I never expected entering my life… and if you left, I don’t know if I can go back to living without you. Every time you were taken from me I… part of me died. A part that never came back, even though you did. When the Empty took you, I thought that was it. If I lost you one more time… I fought so hard for this – to live by my terms that I… I don’t want to lose it. Lose you.”

           “Then don’t act like you already have,” Cas tells him. “Let me in. Let Sam and Jack… we’re all figuring this out together. Shoulder your burdens with us and we will do the same to you. That way we can enjoy our time together. And when one of us goes, the other will always have the memories of what we’ve won to remind us how the fight – how life was worth it.”

           Dean nods, dropping another kiss against Cas’s lips. Rises with Cas, uncaring that the towel fell. He already felt more exposed from this simple massage. Modesty seemed a… a moot point. Cas slips between Dean’s legs, wrapping him in a hug. Dean returns it.

           Then he looks at their voyeurs, watching from the sidelines. “Was this what you had planned all along?”

           “Before you came here,” Adam says, “I had a vision.”

           “…Right.”

           “And in that vision,” Serafina adds, swaying with Adam. Fingers threaded through his curls, petting him, while his oil-covered hands stained her patchwork skirt. “He saw you two sticking around for a few more days.”

           Dean arches a brow, huffing, “We do?”

           “Oh yes,” she says, “you’ve only just begun to heal, the both of you. It’s a process – like growth – that never really ends.” Serafina’s gaze darts from him to Cas, and back again. “Plus, if you stay, we can introduce you to some new things. Offer some wisdom from our many lifetimes on Earth that may prove… beneficial.”

           Dean and Cas share a silent conversation. He grins from that, knowing he can tilt his head or flutter his lashes and be understood completely. “Okay,” Dean answers, “it’s not like there’s anything else we need to be doing.”

           “Perfect!” She claps, “Oh I’ll – I’ll go put some tea on, and Adam can show you to our meditation room. We can spend the rest of the evening just sharing, maybe even fall asleep under the stars. In all of America, Adam and I’ve found they don’t shine quite like they do here.”

           Dean leans his head on Cas’s shoulder, listening as Serafina rambles about possible plans. Adam interjecting with his own ideas every now and then. Watching them, a strange feeling flutters inside his chest.

           He isn’t sure what to expect from hanging out at their commune or drinking their Kool-Aid. But, for the first time since they’ve closed the book on Chuck’s story… he’s excited.

(chapter 2)

[essieeeeeeeee]

Hello friend! Taking you up on your offer to write something for my bday. What about a scene in an A/B/O Au, where Alpha Luke is just discovering that Deckard is an omega? I always love the reveal 💕 Thank you so much friend!!

hey omni! sorry for the belatedness of this!

so, I apologize in advance, because this is not actually the reveal part, but I swear that’ll come. I just suck at having motivation to keep typing shit unless I post it in bits. so here’s bit #1.

————————–

Hobbs wouldn’t really consider himself genderist.

Sure, he’s an alpha–and he’s not particularly shy about it, either. He doesn’t really mind walking the stereotypical path of having the size and the brawn and the swaggering intensity to back up his orientation, doesn’t shy away from playing the part. He enjoys it. The dominance that comes with that territory feels second nature, and it works for him.

But he’s well aware that’s not always the case.

Hobbs doesn’t subscribe to the bullshit; the rhetoric that says a person’s orientation dictates their behavior, that spouts nonsense about betas walking so alphas can run, about omegas needing protection and pampering above all others for their delicate constitutions. Partly because he’s not an asshole, and partly because he’d been smacked upside the head as a posturing teenager one too many times by his very omega mother to ever really believe she needed anything along the lines of protection.

He’s a liberal guy. Pays his taxes without complaint, votes in favor of cleaner air and military gender desegregation. Even dated another alpha or two, through the years. 

He’s a single alpha dad with a nine year old omega daughter, and he knows better than to let bias steer his judgement.

But the thing is–Hobbs had always assumed Shaw was a beta.

***

Well. Maybe not at first.

The first time he meets Deckard Shaw, when they’re throwing each other through walls and tables and desks and everything in between, demolishing the office space around them, squaring up and prowling around each other like a couple of bristling predators–beta isn’t the impression Hobbs gets.

It’s pure, unadulterated alpha.

Hobbs senses it the instant his gaze lands on Shaw, feels it in the way the other man holds himself: tightly coiled, like a tiger looking for the moment to spring. There’s wildfire in his eyes when he turns towards Hobbs.

And as their eyes lock, Hobbs’ own alpha rises up to meet it, interest piqued.

It likes the tension in the air. Likes the way Shaw’s brimming with the kind of righteous fury that could burn the world down around him, and fuck the consequences. From the second Shaw turns away from the computer screen and looks at him, hatred etched into the lines of his face, Hobbs knows this is a man who’s come to prove something.

And Hobbs gets it. He understands what Shaw’s doing here, the way any alpha would. In that split second he even comes close to feeling–not sorry for Shaw, but regretful, maybe, because he’s seen the medical reports. They’re tucked into a file labeled O. S. in the corner cabinet of his office, with pictures of the damage Hobbs and Toretto and the rest of them had played their parts in inflicting.

Vivid images of Owen Shaw’s face charred to unholy hell, half of it nearly unrecognizable.

They’re jarring, and not something Hobbs is particularly proud of. He can’t imagine how Deckard Shaw felt, seeing that kind of shit up close and personal on the face of his baby brother.

Thing is, nine times out of ten Hobbs prefers bringing in his targets over putting ‘em down. For the sake of his own conscience if nothing else. He doesn’t want to bring that kind of damage home, to Sam and the rest of his life. Doesn’t like the way the blood on his hands lingers. Hobbs isn’t that kind of alpha, the one that enjoys the hunt and the kill, the way a few of the other agents he’s had the displeasure of working with over the years could be. So Owen Shaw may have brought his own fate down on himself with his schemes and his games, but it didn’t mean the outcome was the one Hobbs was looking for when he started that chase.

And part of him, some strange impulse in the back of his head, wants to tell Shaw that. Tell him that yeah–he gets it.

Because if word came that someone’d put down one of his brothers like that, wrecked them so badly they were breathing through a tube and dead to the world for months on end, he’d–he’d probably do the same.

Let the primal part of his instincts take over. Bulldoze his way through the world until the culprit was a fine paste beneath his boot.

It’s an alpha’s job, isn’t it? Vengeance.

And it’s one Shaw seems to take seriously, going by the way he launches Hobbs’ own desk into his gut, and launches himself right after it.

He comes quicker than Hobbs can predict. There’s no time to brace himself for the impact; he takes the kick to the face, and goes down harder from it than expected. He rolls to his feet, still pulling his senses back into place, and takes another two fast hits to the jaw before wrapping his arms around Shaw and throwing him bodily through the next two glass partitions.

Hobbs can feel his blood rushing, the sweet buzz of adrenaline on his skin, and he huffs out a breath of excitement as his opponent comes wheeling back for more.

Shaw, he finds, fights like a goddamn devil.

The man’s strong. Not as strong as Hobbs, maybe, but he makes up for it in everything else. He’s quick, and wiley, and can take a right hook to the face like nobody’s business, and it’s a damn shame that he’s the bad guy here, because Hobbs can’t help but enjoy this. It’s been a long time since someone’s challenged him like this, and his alpha’s snarling almost gleefully in the back of his head over it.

This is what he’d been missing earlier in the day, when his target had rolled over like a dog. Elena had pinned him as disappointed, and she’d been right, goddamnit, because the way Hobbs’ heart is pounding in his chest feels like the rush only a drug can give. He can’t get enough of it. Wants more.

It’s a bit distracting. Hobbs blames that for the way Shaw lands a one-two-three series of hits on him, shoving his foot into Hobbs’ gut with a punishing kick, before throwing his entire body forward and sending them both flying down into the desk below them.

Jesus, he thinks, and it’s less an expletive and more a praise.

Hobbs can’t tell if his alpha’s furious or turned the fuck on when he crashes through the table and to the floor beneath it, Shaw still wrapped around him like a snarling wildcat, but he’s betting it’s somewhere in between.

There’s not much time to appreciate the feeling, though, between the burst of pain up his back and Shaw dragging him up to his feet for more. Hobbs meets him with a knee to the gut for the trouble.

From there it’s a dance. Shaw lashes out with a punch, blocks Hobbs’ own, meets him with a kick to the knee and an elbow to the face. Hobbs stumbles back, then surges forward, puts in a few hits of his own, crashes his head against Shaw’s in a move that has him tasting blood on his own tongue. And then, with a roar of self-assured triumph, he wraps an arm around Shaw’s neck and lifts him in the air. Shaw kick out, eyes widening in realization, but it does’t save him from Hobbs heaving him forcefully down into the glass tabletop below.

It shatters. Shaw crashes through it and hits the ground with a crunching thud, Hobbs following from above.

The move must’ve done the trick, because afterwards, for the first time since the fight began, it’s quiet. The whirlwind of fists and kicks and rage settles.

Shaw lays still, a dazed look in his eyes.

Hobbs’ heart is still hammering, excitement and aggression clouding his mind. And before he can stop to think, to take the brief reprieve where Shaw’s lying winded underneath him to regroup and get the upper hand, his instincts surge to the foreground with an intensity that overwhelms every shred of common sense.

He turns his face to Shaw’s neck, drags his nose against the stubble at his throat, and inhales.

Shaw grunts, but Hobbs ignores it, because the desire to get a whiff of the man’s scent is almost maddening. Hobbs’ alpha is eager for it, clawing forward, craving the heady fight-or-flight smell of adrenaline and anger and blood that it just knows that Shaw’s putting off, practically knocking the doors down for just a second to lunge forward and breathe him in– 

But nothing meets him.

No rusty hint of blood. No tang of adrenaline.

No scent.

Just the faint smell of plain soap, with a sharp underlying hint of chemicals.

Scent blockers, Hobbs thinks, disappointment flooding through him.

His hand slides up to the base of Shaw’s throat and rests there for just a second, twitching, and the insane urge to stay down, stay close hits him. He wants to pin Shaw’s hands to the ground. Wants to wrap his fingers around Shaw’s neck and press. Squeeze just enough until the man’s whining with it.

He wants to dominate him. Show Shaw who the real alpha was, here.

It’s that thought that snaps Hobbs out of it, though, and has him jerking up and away in surprise, because what the fuck is he doing?

He reels back up onto his knees and stares down at Shaw, wide-eyed.

This ain’t him. He needs to get his head on straight, because his instincts are flying off the rails into overdrive. Hobbs hasn’t been this out of his own mind over a fight in years, not since he was a punk kid in basic training and picking battles with anyone who’d give it to him, and it’s unsettling.

It feels animalistic, almost. He’s a bit ashamed of himself for the lack of control. 

Hobbs pushes himself up, and pulls his hand away from Shaw’s neck as though burned.

“Goddamn I.T. guys,” he mutters, mostly to distract himself from the fact that his eyes instinctively dart down to admire the way Shaw’s sprawled beneath him, head tipped back, bearing the line of his throat.

Jesus Christ, Hobbs, he thinks, swallowing dryly, working desperately to get his shit together. The man’s come to outright murder him, and he’s salivating over it like a dog.

Pathetic.

He pulls himself up and tears his eyes away instead, glancing towards the nearby cabinet where he knows for a fact one of the junior officers keeps a spare set of cuffs–

And immediately stumbles when a sharp, blinding pain rockets up from his thighs as broken glass slices mercilessly through each of them.

Christ on a fucking cracker, but that hurt.

Hobbs doesn’t know how Shaw manages to move quick enough, but in the next moment a light fixture slams into his skull, and he’s falling back, tripping over the sofa and sliding beneath the table behind. He blinks the stars out of his eyes, before his gaze fixes onto the upper corner of the desk above him.

A gun. Hobbs could kiss whatever bastard ignored basic safety protocols by leaving their firearm unprotected at their desk, because he’s taking full advantage of it now.

He grabs the weapon, swings around to aim, and doesn’t have an ounce of regret as he pulls the trigger on Shaw, because this bullshit’s gone far enough.

Everything goes downhill from there.

There’s Elena, and the bomb, and the explosion, and falling, and then pain–

It all gets a bit blurry, after that.

[plum-pudding-and-honey]

MONTHLY RANGE : Eight & Charley & C’rizz (1/2)

Scherzo -  2.5/5 : So... I really don't know how to rate it. Because I recognise the brilliance of the thing (excellent way of using the audio medium, the sound creature was brilliantly creepy and the atmosphere is so cringy but in a good way? Also Paul McGann and India Fisher are excellent and they do have good chemistry together). But I'm not a fan of Eight/Charley so this was kinda … annoying? I liked how the Doctor/companion relationship is explored and I like the fact that companions are memento mori (a nicer way of saying "pets", the Master gets it) but I really hated the idea that Charley was the first one the Doctor really loved (lol no) because like Rose and Clara, Charley is supposed to be """special""" (the difference being that Rose and Clara actually believe that they are special, it's not the case for Charley which is why I don't hate her with all my guts like the other two) in her relationship to the Doctor. Each and every companion has a special relationship with the Doctor, no one is special and the Doctor (whatever the incarnation) loves them all. Period. So yeah, having them mopping for two hours about "You said you loved me, you didn't mean it", "But I love you", "No, I don't love but actually I do, I'm just trying to protect you." was annoying. Just say you love each other, kiss or whatever and move on, but don't linger on it for THREE episodes, thank you very much. And then in the last part, the Doctor admits that he loves all his companions, so yeah great, but what was the point of saying that Charley was the first one half an hour before except pissing me off greatly? Despite all this, this was still a good illustration of my Eight-treats-his-companions-like-shit thesis. (Also, forgot to mention, Eight at the beginning whining about loses his senses … annoyingly brillant and sent me huge Eleven vibes). So yeah, I love some of it and hate other bits, so I guess I'll settle for something in the middle, rating-wise.

The Creed of the Kromon -  2/5 : It was going well pretty much until the end first part. Then it became a huge disappointment. We have two female characters, Charley and L'da, and they're both reduced to being reproductive tools for the Big Bad Bugs of the week and despite saving L'da being C'rizz motivation from the beginning, he just shoots her when he finds her without even considering trying something else to help her, I mean it's not like she begged that bad. And then he's ready to do the same to Charley. Great. Way to go. I hope this trigger-happy tendency will be corrected soon because I do find him an interesting character - I mean he's rough around the edges but there's way for amazing character development so please don't screw this up. The chameleon concept is also great (and wouldn't work on visual medium, let's be honest). Consider me hooked up for the Kro'ka/C'rizz arc (which I don't remember at all btw so that will be like listening to it for the first time). Also, I have to add that Eight's laugh in this episode cleared my skin, watered my crops and all of this. Also! I’m glad to have a Doctor + two companions dynamic, I really love it

The Natural History of Fear -  4/5 : So this was weird. I mean most of Eight's adventures in the main range are weird but this is another level of weird. Like they're really taking meta to the next stage. I don't have much else to say to be honest, except that it was difficult to follow at times but that I obviously loved the 1984 vibes. THIS IS THE VOICE OF LIGHT CITY. WELCOME TO YOUR NEW WORK DAY. TODAY IS HIGH PRODUCTIVITY DAY. Also that end twist *shocked*

The Twilight Kingdom -  2.5/5 : That's not particularly memorable. It really struggles to keep us hooked up for two hours and it didn't really work for me : I've lost interest and let my mind drifted several times and I was still able-ish to understand what was going on. That's not a good sign, people. The interesting bit was at the end with the return of the Kro'ka and how the mystery thickens about this weird place. Also Eight yelling "RASSILLON" at the end … someone's mad at daddy. We get to know a bit more about C'rizz which is always good to take since last episode didn't offer us any insight on his person at all. There's something definitely shifty and not coherent at all about him, like he's supposed to be a pacifist monk and yet, he's a pretty violent lad (I mean, this episode doesn't really count, he was controlled, but in the Creed of the Kromon he's not particularly gentle), which he acknowledges himself (I mean it could just be that being enslaved by the Kromon changed the man that drastically, but still...)

Faith Stealer -  3.5/5 : Ah! Finally we learn a bit more about C'rizz and we address what the hell happened in the Creed of the Kromon. Although, did he just get brainwashed into getting rid of his guilt, just like that? Because if that's the case, I'm gonna be very disappointed. I mean, I don't want him to suffer or anything but it all seemed a bit easy. Also, yeah, poor C'rizz, easily manipulated and preyed on by pretty much anyone is this freaking universe - can anyone give him a break for a second please? (also, is strangling Charley going to be a recurring thing or what? Because that is NOT ok, writers, no matter how much Charley jokes about it afterwards). Anyway, the plot was ok, the multihaven (or whatever the name of this place was, I don't remember) is an interesting concept (even more relevant today) and I really liked the idea that it's completely ok for anyone to worship literally anything without judgement. 

The Last - 3/5 : Excelsior used a nuclear weapon to end a never-ending war and killed most of her people in the process? Excuse me? The unpredicted parallel with the Doctor and the Time War is up the roof people. And so I can't help thinking that this story would have been much better in a shorter version with a post Time War Doctor (can you see this with Nine, Rose and Jack? Because I definitely can and I'm not ok). Anyway. Charley doesn't get strangled this time but choked with a pillow. I don't know, do the writers have a kink about strangling/choking/killing women? And her death was the least credible possible with the Doctor moving on from it like twenty seconds after and absolutely not going into huge drama/self pity/extreme guilt mode, so you know she won't stay dead very long. I liked C'rizz very much here, he's actually growing on me much more than Charley. I like his loyalty and the fact that he has a much darker side, when it's actually well exploited.

Caerdroia - 5/5 : gfvbvgttybvgf THREE EIGHTS THREE EIGHTS T H R E E  E I G H T S it's more than I can take. Hmm. So, i love the first part where the Doctor takes a nap (he deserves it) and sass the Kro'ka into telling him where the TARDIS is. I love him. Then we gets three versions of Eight and that's when I completely lost it. I also quite liked the crazy vibe of this episode, which felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland (again). The labyrinth part (or is it a maze??) was quite well done and the fact that it feeds off the Doctor, Charley and C'rizz subconscious was a nice to get to know them a bit more (especially C'rizz, whose annoyance with Tigger!Eight was very relatable). Charley and Eeyore!Eight was also priceless to be honest. And finally, finally, we get the TARDIS back and yeeeah! Also the Kro'ka is a frog vbyvegbvfy I can't

The Next Life - 2/5 : Excuse me but did this thing need to be that sexist? I mean... even Eight was a bit borderline a couple of times. I hated Charley in this episode, I hated how quick she was to judge C'rizz and how jealous she is throughout this audio when she's never really struck me as being jealous, especially not of C'rizz of all people. And it's a shame, really, because I was starting to think that maybe, she was getting less annoying. And most of all I HATED how her interactions with Perfection were depicted, how they bicker about the Doctor and, like, I get that it makes sense with Perfection being Zagreus and all, but it was very poorly brought, and ... just no. Also Perfection's relationship with Kip ... brrrr. Again, no. The plot in itself was not particularly memorable. It ends the Divergent Universe arc properly, the idea of this universe being in a constant cycle was kinda interesting and made sense with everything we had learnt so far so that's that. It was also nice to get to know more about C'rizz and I really like him more than Charley, and I hope he'll have a proper chance to find out who he is now. I'm definitely disappointed with this audio, it was way too long and problematic. (Just kudos for the Grace reference ... and it's made me miss Grace so I might rewatch the movie as a treat)

Overall opinion : Well I’m glad this is over. The Divergent Universe was an interesting concept but the quality of the episodes overall wasn’t very good and the way women are treated/depicted here is just a big NO. Big kudos for Caerdroia which was a nice surprise. The Natural History of Fear and Faith Stealer are good too, not as much though, and the rest, I’ll probably forget very soon, just like I did the first time. The only good thing to come out of this is my boy C’rizz

[lunarapocolypse]

Shigaraki week: Day 1

Okay, something happened and I had to delete the original post, so let’s try this again!

Present/Wings/Rebirth

@shigarakiweek Thanks for helping me clean up Tenko, I appreciate it.” Aylin giggled, picking up confetti. The ravenette only nodded as he helped her.

“It’s no big deal, I had nothing better to do anyways.” He muttered.

“Still, thank you. I’m surprised you even came, to be honest.” She mused, sweeping the multicolored strands along with cake crumbs into a dustpan.  

“Why wouldn’t I come?”

“Because you don’t like parties?”

“I don’t, but you said there wouldn't be more than six people. I can tolerate that.” He scoffed. He paused for a moment before adding on. “And there was cake.” Aylin raised an eyebrow at that.

“So you were motivated by cake! That makes sense.” She replied, nodding. Tenko blushed lightly, narrowing his scarlet eyes.

“That wasn’t the only reason! I also wanted to come because it was your birthday party, and we’re friends.”

“Awww, really? That’s so sweet of you, I knew you had a soft spot for me!”

“Nevermind, we’re not friends anymore. You’re dead to me.”

“Wait no, Tenko! I was just teasing you!” Aylin replied, through a fit of giggles. She reached a hand out towards her friend, who turned away so she wouldn’t see the small smile forming on his face.

“Goodbye Aylin.”

“Nooo don’t leave me! Whatever will I do without you?” 

“Die.”

“I beggeth thee forgiveness,  o most wondrous one.  I hath been foolish to vex thee, wilt thou pardon mine own pitiful soul?” She spoke, dramatically propping one knee forward and lowering her head. Despite the ebony locks of hair obscuring her face, Tenko could tell she was smiling. 

“Hmm, I have one condition.”

“What might that be?”

“I get an extra slice of cake.” Aylin laughed as she raised her head.

“Why not? I should probably give you one anyways, for helping me.”

“Darn right you should.”

She laughed again, going back to sweeping with a small smile on her face. It was rare they saw each other outside of school, or more than once a day. Being  friends with differing college majors is difficult, but there's always time during lunch to meet and catch up.

There was a cherry tree right behind the school. Although it was supposedly  hard to find. Tenko had stumbled upon it on his first day and had been eating lunch there everyday. He wasn’t sure why, but that tree had a calming effect. It felt familiar to him, like he was home.He liked that feeling.

Aylin had found his special place a few weeks later, and it became their meeting spot. It was awkward at first since they were both socially anxious messes, but they eventually became best friends.

“It’s a shame Himiko couldn’t make it, I’ll drop by her place with some stuff later.” She sighed, snapping Tenko out of his thoughts.

“...Himiko?”

“One of my friends from middle school, she’s like a sister to me! She was invited, but got sick just the day before.” Aylin whined, pouting.

“Don’t you remember? I’ve talked to you about her a few times now.” Tenko blinked. Himiko…? The name was oddly familiar, and it held a sense of warmth. He could recall a sense of familiarity from that name… it was strange.

Then again, he had strange feelings a lot. 

“Huh? That’s weird I don’t remember.” He mumbled, shrugging.

“You’re so forgetful, Ten.”

“Says the one who forgot her own birthday until I mentioned it was a week away.”

“In my defense, my birthday is in the middle of exam prep time.”

“Your birthday is March 30.  Exams are late May.”

“I procrastinate on studying so I gotta start kinda early.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes sense to me!”

“Whatever.”

Tenko sighed, standing up. They were basically done cleaning, he’d be able to go home soon. He had a project due in a few days, he really needed to get started on that. He noticed a small wrapped present at the corner of his eyes. It was yellow, with a frilly orange ribbon.

“Hey, you unwrapped all the presents, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“There’s one near the window, It’s still wrapped.”

Aylin looked in the direction he was pointing in, frowning lightly upon seeing the vibrant colors.

“Huh? I got one from everyone though. And I even checked afterwards if I missed anything! That’s odd...can you bring it over?” He took the box in his hands, scratching his neck lightly as he handed it to her. She held it, chocolate brown eyes widening as she took a closer look.

“Tenko, this is addressed to you.””

“...What?”

“Look.” She showed him a tiny label attached to the ribbon. Sure enough, there was writing scribbled in a familiar handwriting.

To: Tenko Shimura

From: An old friend

“An old friend?” he questioned. He didn’t have many friends when he was younger, none that he was close to at least. Who could’ve sent this?

“This is kind of creepy...unless you know who might’ve sent it?” Aylin asked, looking up at him. Tenko shook his head.

“I..I don’t.”

She sighed, fiddling with the ribbon.

“Do you think we should open it? You can take it somewhere private if you don’t want me to see. Or we could just throw it. It’s your decision.” She said. She acted indifferent, but there was curiosity in her voice.

“I’ll open it here.” He wasn’t sure what was inside, but whatever it was he didn’t want to be alone to see it. It was probably a prank of some sort, but why was it in Aylin’s apartment? Did someone who came to the party leave it?

And why did the handwriting look so familiar?

He opened the box, looking at the cute pink stuffing paper. In the center of it all was...a knife?

It was a persian pocket knife with what looked like polished amber on the handle, as well as an elaborate design at the top and bottom of it. The blade itself had designs engraved into it, and if Tomura looked at it close enough he could feel like he was going dizzy. Despite that, it was extremely beautiful. Yet he couldn’t help but recall a sense of familiarity from it…

“Is this for me? Wow, it’s so pretty!” A shrill, feminine voice squealed. A much deeper, more scratchy voice chuckled from beside her.

“It’s a thanks for working so hard on the last mission. I didn’t think it was very practical, but you’ve always enjoyed cute things so I thought you’d like it.”

“Like it? Are you kidding me? I love it! Thank you thank you thank you!” 

“No problem. Keep working hard, okay?” The feminine voice giggled.

“I will!”

“-enko! Tenko!” 

Tenko gasped, opening his eyes in a shock. He could barely breathe. He was on the floor, staring at the worried expression on his friend’s face.

“Are you okay? You fainted all of a sudden! It wasn’t for that long, but still! Do you need to go to the doctor?” She murmured, helping him up.

“I-I’m fine. Just..tired I guess.” He muttered. What...what was that?

“Are you sure?” The girl asked, giving him an unsure expression. Tenko gave her a brief smile.

“Yeah..I’m sure.” He then picked up the box, shutting it before he could see the knife. Who knew what would happen if he saw it again.

“I think I’ll head home now. It’s been a long day, can you pack the cake? I’ll eat it at home.” He said, rubbing his head. Whatever just happened sure made his head hurt.

“A..alright. Just...stay safe okay? And that knife...is it a death threat of some sort?” She muttered, eyes glued to the box. Tenko sighed, chuckling nervously.

“I’m not sure. I just…” What was that? “I’ll think about it later.”

“But-”

“Aylin.” He said, looking her in the eyes. “It’s alright. It’s probably some sort of joke. I stayed up all last night so that’s probably why I fainted. I’m really tired.” She stayed silent for a few moments.

“You’ll tell me if anything bad happens, right? Or maybe not me, but you’ll tell somebody close to you?” She asked. She seemed just as shaken up as he was. He nodded.

“...I will.”  Aylin sighed upon hearing that.

“I’ll go pack the cake. Just, take care of yourself alright? And..whatever this is.” She said, gesturing to the box. “I don’t want my friend getting hurt.”

“Don’t worry Ay. It’s probably nothing serious, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so…” The almond skinned girl sighed again, going to the kitchen to pack some cake for him. As she left Tenko grimaced, looking down at the box in his hands. There seemed to be a piece of paper stuck in the box, different from the stuffing paper he had seen. Curious, he took off the lid, slipping it out.

Did you like the present? You gave this to someone once, after all. You should visit her sometime, you have a mutual friend don’t you?  Do you remember anything?

Huh? He read over the paper carefully, what? He gave this to someone before…? 

He stuffed the paper into the pocket of his hoodie, shaking his head. He needed some rest.

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

Tenko wasn’t able to get back to sleep. What time was it? He knew it was after 12, but it wasn’t before sunrise. After he got back from Aylin’s he had just flopped down and taken a nap. He...he didn’t know what to think. What was that knife? How did it end up in her apartment? What was that...vision? Flashback? Whatever it was, what did it mean?!?

His thoughts were interrupted by an obnoxious knock on his door.

Who would be here at this time? He didn’t have a roommate, maybe it was Aylin coming to check on him? Or someone else? He didn’t want to get up. He groaned, putting his face back in the pillow. The knock sounded again, much louder this time.

“Alright, alright I’m coming…” He grumbled, getting out of bed. Who could be there at a time like this? He opened the door.

“Alright who-” He was shocked to see nowhere there, only the darkness of the night. He groaned.

“What the hell...was that a prank?” He mumbled. Great, he just wanted some peace and quiet, and then this had to happen. He sighed about the turn away when he noticed something by his foot. It was a present box.

“Another one?” He mumbled, picking it up. Should...should he open it? He remembered what happened when he opened the knife, would the same thing happen? He glanced back at his table, where the present box laid along with the knife. Against his better judgement, he picked up this box, taking it to his desk. This time it was green with a pink ribbon. What would be inside? 

Well, there was only one way to find out, right?

He took a deep breath before taking off the lid. Inside was a playstation controller. It was just like any other, right? He took a closer look. It was cracked at the edge, like it had been thrown across the room. The fact that it was a crack rather than part of it being chipped off was a little weird, how did that happen-

“FUCKING RUN!” The scratchy voice yelled.

“I”M FUCKING TRYING!” A slightly higher voice screeched back. 

“Stop getting so worked up you two, it’s just  a game-”

“SHUT UP COMPRESS!” The two voices said, in unison.  The third voice, an older man he assumed, seemed to sigh.

“Dude, you’re cracking the screen.” The higher voice said.

“Huh? Shit, I forgot to wear gloves!”

“We’re almost done, just hang in there until then!”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Just focus on the game.”

“Roger that, boss!”

He was brought back to earth, gasping as he fell onto his bed. He clutched his head, trying to get his breath back. Again? He must be going insane. What was happening? He looked at the box, checking for a note like last time. Sure enough, he found one.

You’ve always liked video games, probably in this life as well. It took forever to recreate the crack on this though.  Do you remember anything?

Recreate? Like...like it had been cracked before. In another life.

Wait, another life?

The note clearly said, “in this life.” So he had more than one life? What? Whatever sick prank this was, he wanted it to stop. 

And why did it end with “Do you remember anything?” That’s what the last note ended with that  as well! What did it mean by that?

Those visions...were they memories? 

No they couldn’t be! There’s no way he would’ve been there for that, how could he? He never had memory loss so why would-

In another life.

“SHUT UP!” He yelled, uncaring of whomever he might’ve woken up. What the hell was happening? The knife then the controller, what was next? He stuffed his face into his pillow, breathing out a sigh. There was no doubt he wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

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

Maybe it was all some elaborate April fools day joke, Tenko thinks as he walks to Art History. For the rest of the day yesterday, he hadn’t received anything. Same with today. He got the first gift on March 30, then March 31st, today was April 1st. He’d probably get one today and then never again. That made sense. Or maybe today he’d get duped and someone would come up to him, tell him it was all a prank. And he could tell them he knew all along. Yeah, that’s probably how this would play out. He didn’t need to worry.

So why did he feel so uncertain?

Maybe it was because of the flashbacks? How did they even pull that off anyways? Probably some psychology trick, right?

As he sat down in his usual seat for the lecture, he saw another box. Black with a gray ribbon. What was with the color combos anyways?

He wasn’t sure if he should open it in class, what if that happened? Where his head hurt and he lost breath? He looked around, he had arrived pretty early. No one else should be here, not yet.

He opened the box carefully, noticing a measuring tape. It was different though, it was sharper. As if it could be used as a blade if held the right way.

“You should really eat more, boss! You’re super skinny. It’s because all you eat is garbage. How do you not gain anything when you’re just lazing around eating junk food all day?” Two voices seemed to say. They were practically the same, however one was slightly deeper. It seemed to be the same person though.

“Metabolism. And I’m not that skinny.” The scratchy voice huffed. The scratchy voice that had been in both of his first flashbacks.

“Yes you are! Are you taking care of yourself properly? You have a bit of lean muscle, but other than that you’re a twig. How are you even strong like this? Weak trash. Hey, don’t call him weak! Or trash! What? It’s true. No it isn't ! Take that back!” The voices argued. The scratchy voice let out a chuckle.

“Whatever. Just finish the measurements, we don’t have all day.”

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. I’m on it!”

He gasped, opening his eyes in a violent...less violent shock. Huh? That was calmer than the first two times.  Now that he thought about it, wasn’t the second time as little calmer as well? I mean, he was out of breath,but he didn’t faint or anything. And his head didn’t hurt as much. This time, it was still bad but not as bad. Maybe it was something you get used to.

There was probably a note this time too, right? He checked for the slip of paper that had been in the first two. 

He took our measurements one time, so this should help. You've always found his contradicting personalities amusing. Do you remember anything?

Again with the do you remember anything? Tenko groaned. Whoever this was was really trying to make this convincing. He wasn’t buying it though. Today would probably be the last day of this odd joke.

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

He was wrong about it being the last day. His eye twitched seeing a dark purple present box with a yellow ribbon inside of his bag. How did it even get there? What the hell? And he thought today would actually be normal, seeing as he didn’t get any “presents” until classes finished.

Tenko sighed, taking off the lid. What was in store for him this time? 

Inside was a small dark pink teddy bear. Hm, that was different.

“I got you something.” A deep voice spoke. No the usually low scratchy one, but a smoother, calmer voice. It was rich, like honey.

“Huh?” Spoke the scratchy voice of a child.

“You’ve been having nightmares, am I correct? I got you a stuffed animal to help. It’ll protect you from the nightmares, alright?”

“It will?” the small  voice questioned, filled with doubt.

“Of course. As long as you believe it will. And if for whatever reason it fails to work, you are free to come into my room at night.”

“...Even if it works can I still come to you? I like the bedtime stories.” He murmured shyly. The deeper voice chuckled.

“Of course. You’re welcome to see me anytime you wish. I’d actually like that.”

“...Thank you. I like it.” The child’s voice muttered. It was so small you might not have heard it.

“You’re welcome. Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything, alright?”

“Alright.”

Tenko’s eyes shook open, but he didn’t gasp. He was still breathless, but not as much as before. How come the low scratchy voice wasn’t there this time? It was in the first three…

Now that he thought of it, the child’s voice was pretty scratchy as well. It must be him as a child.

When he thought of it, that voice sounded a lot like his own. Just a tad bit deeper and croakier. In another life? Was that voice…

No. It couldn’t be him! He was here, how could that be him?

But it would make sense…

No it wouldn’t! It wouldn’t at all!

He checked for a slip of paper, just as there had been the first three times.

You kept that bear. It was your most prized possession, aside from Father and those creepy hands. Do you remember anything?

Father? Hands?

“I think I remember something.” He muttered, mostly to himself. He was still trying to convince himself this was a prank, but part of him was starting to doubt that. This… this was too uncanny.

“Maybe this is more serious than I thought it was….” He whispered, to no one in particular. No one but himself and the questions settling into his mind.

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

“Hm, I don’t know anyone who’d do that. That’s really creepy…” Aylin muttered, picking at her lunch. They were at the cherry tree for lunch break, as always. Tenko left out a lot of the details, such as the notes and the flashbacks, but he told her about the “gifts”.

“I see…” He mumbled, stabbing a cherry tomato.

“Maybe they really were from an old friend. That’s what the tag on the first one said, right? Were the rest of them tagged?”

“I..I didn’t check...wait, they were!” He could remember seeing the tag, but ignoring it. Each one had been signed similarly.

“There you have it. Although if this gets too out of hand that might be bad...do you want to tell the police or something? It seems worrying…”

“I think it’s fine. It’s just a prank.” Or maybe it really was an old friend. He didn’t want to believe it, but the possibility was getting more and more likely.

“Just stay safe.”

“I will.”

“Maybe it’s something for your birthday? That’s tomorrow, right?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“Yeah, it is...I’m not sure. Seems a little too weird for a birthday thing.”

“Hmm...tell me if anything else happens, alright?”

“Yeah.” He replied, nodding.

I gotta go to class now, take care!” She said, sighing as she picked up her stuff. Tenko nodded through a mouth of pasta. 

He needed to go in a few minutes as well. Just then, something seemed to fall from the sky, right onto his head.

“Ow- what the hell?” He cursed, rubbing his head. He looked down at his feet to see a cyan blue box with a black ribbon.

“Another one?” He mumbled, picking it up and taking off the lid. This box might’ve been the smallest that he had gotten, what was in it?

He tilted his head at the sight of a ring. Well, it seemed to be a ring. It was a small silver hand, curved in the way it could fit over a finger.  The wrist was covered in amethyst, and it seemed like there were...staples? Weird. Why a ring though..?

“You’re crazy.” The scratchy voice breathed. 

“Crazy for you.” Another voice replied. It was deep and rich, yet  less refined and more coarse than the one from before. It was like you could hear a smirk from it.

“You do realize we can’t have a wedding or anything, right?”

“Why not? Sure, it’s nothing official, but we could probably do something small with the rest of the league. Vapeman would make a great priest, he’s always looking tired.” The smugness in his voice just seemed to increase.

“I’m being serious here! We...why…” A loud scratching sound was heard, like nails raking across dry flesh. That’s probably what it was. The noise stopped.

“So am I.” The deep, coarse voice spoke, softer this time. “Who’s to say what we can or can’t do? You’re the king of this world, right? Then you make the rules. So I’ll ask you again, and you can pick the answer on your own judgement. Not on what society will or won’t let us do.” The scratchy voice seems to be breathing heavily as the deep one whispers.

“Will you marry me?”

“...Yes.”

Tomura took a breath, eyes blown wide. His head still hurt, but barely. He was barely out of breath as well. A marriage proposal? Huh? 

What?

This was...too weird. At this point Tenko believed this wasn’t a prank. This was the fourth time. Why did this keep happening?

In another life.

Did he live another life before this?

He checked the tag, seeing the same one as the first box. An old friend, huh? Tenko slipped the ring on his middle finger, just to flip off whoever kept giving him these gifts. They deserved it.

He unfolded the slip of paper,reading for any clues.

Did you like the ring? You liked it then. I thought it would be cute in a sick kind of way, it mimics those hands you’d always wear. Do you remember anything?

Remember anything? Was that a memory from his past life? He wondered….

He looked up at the tree, feeling a sense of warmth from it. The warmth of home. The same warmth he received from those memories. It was weird. He touched the bark, like it would give him an answer.

It was too dark to see details, but there were silhouettes. Of a scarred man holding out a ring to his lover. Of an excited girl making a crown of its flowers and placing atop someone’s head. Of a boy banging his fists against it as he cried. Of a child sitting on a branch as what seemed like mist in a suit watched over him.

Tenko blinked. Images? He had heard voices in those flashbacks, but he never saw anything. This tree...was it linked to whatever was happening? Is that why he was so drawn to it?

He picked up his stuff, realizing he would be late for his next class. Right now, he could only try to make sense of the memories he was given.

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

A pastel blue box with a scarlet ribbon sat on his windowsill when he woke up the morning of his birthday. The ribbon was the color of his eyes, he noted as he picked it up.

Inside, there wasn’t anything but a slip of paper.

Come to the cherry tree at 8:00 PM. Remember.

Tenko gulped reading those words. Would whoever had been sending gifts finally show up? Well, there was only one way to find out.

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

He scratched his neck, fluffy raven locks bouncing as he walked towards the tree. What would happen? Was this real or a prank? What was going on? His mind was racing a hundred miles per minute.

He passed behind a building, taking a deep breath once the tree was in sight.

“Happy Birthday.”

He halted hearing the voice. He knew that voice. It was the one from the proposal scene, the one that made his heart beat twice as fast.

“Dabi.” He breathed. He wasn’t sure where that came from, he just knew it. It was like he’d always known it.

“That’s my name.” The man stepped out from behind the tree. He had jet black hair, probably from dye, and multiple piercings. There were faint scars across his face, but nothing major. For some reason, he expected there to be more. 

“Do you remember yet, Tomura?”

Tomura? But his name was Tenko...but Tomura sounded familiar. As if it was him once.

The headache came back, this one worse than before. He couldn’t breathe. He could hear heavy footsteps along with a concerned tone, and felt gentle hand on his back, holding him up. 

Memories flooded into him as he laid limp in the other’s arms.

“Dabi.”

“Yes?” The voice asked uncertainly. Tomura chuckled, leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss. The other happily obliged

“Tomura. You’re back.”

“Indeed I am.” he said, giggling.

“Although, in this life I go by Tenko. It’s...it’s not too bad anymore.” He mumbled. “I don’t mind if you call me Tomura, though. You have special permission.” Dabi’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“Whatever you say boss.”

“Why the presents? Couldn't you make me remember in a less cryptic way? How did you even get everything?” he asks, curiously. 

“You saw what happened just now. You needed to get used to it first. If you remembered everything at once...it wouldn’t end well. You could end up in a coma from the pressure of it, or worse. And apparently everything that existed in our previous life somehow exists now, including those specific  items.As for the ring and the controller, I had that custom made and cracked the controller myself. Don’t worry about cost, my dad is still loaded in this one. Unfortunately he’s still an asshole, but not as much as last time. He didn’t really hurt me, just didn’t care.” He shrugged.

“I see.” That made sense. “How did you remember your past, then?” Dabi gave him a sad smile.

“How do you think I know what would happen?” Tomura’s eyes widened, as he reached forward to touch the other’s cheek.

“You…” he gasped.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t for too long anyways. I’m okay.” He said, nuzzling his cheek. “I’m glad you are as well.”

“Toga, Spinner, Twice, Kurogiri everyone-”

“They’re safe. In this life, they’re not dead. I’m not sure if they remember though.” He mumbled.

“I know where Toga is, but not everyone else.”

“Is that so.” Tomura smirked. “I guess we’ll just have to find them. Dabi laughed.

“I guess we will.”

“The tree..it was there in our past lives as well, wasn’t it?” His gaze turned to the cherry tree, standing to witness their bizarre reunion. “It was my special place then and now.”

“It was.” Dabi spoke, sighing into his neck. Tomura let him, smiling tenderly.

“...You put the ring on your middle finger.”

“Don’t act surprised, you should’ve seen this coming.”

“I really should’ve.”

This time, they’d win. This world was different, but they had each other. Not even death could separate them.

Bonus:

“I have a boyfriend.” Tenko blurted, the next day. Aylin proceeded to spit out her lemonade.

“What how when where why-”

“It’s a long story. I’ll introduce you later. By the way, is your friend still sick?”

“She got better two days ago, why?”

“Mind giving this to her?”

He held out a present box.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

Ok, so coming off the backs of that previous post, I am going to essay here. HARD. Specifically about something my one friend, who like me watched Xena back in the day, HATES about the current fan community and why she doesn’t really feel welcome among it. OK, so over an over, my friend, who we shall just call “Arial”, hates Xena/Gabrielle with a burning passion. I have discussed her en length previously, but she thinks 100% that Gabrielle was a toxic and needy character and that Xena’s true soulmate was Ares. We have argued about this endlessly for the past 18 years of friendship, but that is her POV, nothing is going to change it. Arial’s OTP is why she feels she has no place in modern Xena fandom, because, lets face it, almost everyone these days who watches Xena are what in 1990s Fandom we would have called “Subtexters”. But why is that? Why is it that the show only appeals to WLW nowadays when, back then, it was much more mainstream? Let us examine that by again pointing out the three audiences. 1. WLW 2. Angry Feminists 3. Horny Men.

Ok, so we are clear on that? Right. Time to dig in. I’m not going to spend much time or justification on the last one, so I’ll get it out of the way first. In the 1990s, the Internet was YOUNG, and the world was a smaller place. If you wanted naked women, your best bet was either the premium network offerings (which few people actually bothered to get access to) or straight-up porn. I’m not even going to try and DENY that porn wasn’t prevalent, but it wasn’t as mainstream in the 1990s. There was still some shred of SHAME left in society, and not every guy on the planet was willing to hunt down an adult video store to spend money on DVDs. Some were, yes. But those weren’t the horny guys Xena was aimed at. Xena was aimed at the horny guys who wanted titillation for free. And, in the 1990s, hot women in ‘leather bikinis’ was the best you would get. Fast forward to 2019, and YEAH. We all know how prevalent and mainstream exploitation of women is NOW. So yeah, why would ANY guy looking for a cheap thrill watch Xena, when he can watch Game of Thrones and see ACTUAL naked women? SO HORNY MEN ARE GONE (and good fn riddance!) Next category. Angry Feminists. Ok. So here’s the thing. Feminism, in 2019, is not the best. Sorry, but it’s not. There are so many problems with overzealous SJWs and TERFS that Feminism has lost sight of it’s mission. Hate to say it out loud, but it is true. In the 1990s, feminism was much more focused. Sure, there were problems, but in reality, the issues of trandgendered individuals were a new topic for most people. In fact, and correct me if I’m wrong, but the concept of “Trans*” wasn’t widely known by that specific TERM yet! If it was, it was within the Queer community only. On top of that, the very idea of strong women “acting manish” was controversial. In the US, we may have had Wonder Woman for decades, but she was always portrayed as a SECRETARY by trade! Honestly, there were very few examples of women kicking men’s ass 100% unapologetically in the 1990s. Red Sonja was one, and the creators of Xena have gone on record to say that Ren Sonja (and the Bionic Woman and Wonder Woman) were examples of “Walking so Xena could RUN”. So yeah, in the 1990s, Xena was a HUGE Feminist icon. She was a woman who not only kicked the ass of everyone she met, but made NO APOLOGIES for it and wasn’t afraid to use sex and her feminine whiles to help her do so. And then, Third Wave Feminism happened. And TERFS and SJWs happened. And suddenly, a show where a Transwoman is a beauty queen, and the Greek Gods are portrayed as characters is NOT OK. So many SJWs try to throw terms at Xena such as “Cultural Appropriation” and “Insensitive” without realizing that they are straight-up missing the point of the show. So, >buzzer< Feminists are out. The ones that remain are usually holdovers from 90′s feminism, who are not judgemental and can appreciate a well-written Bad Bitch when they see one. So, who does that leave? LESBIANS, AND WLW. And here’s the thing. For THEM? The show is stronger than EVER. Because, as we all know, Xena dealt with massive censorship in it’s day... and it only made Xena and Gabrielle more believable as lovers! The relationship between the ladies is so strong, so powerful, SO DAMN REAL, that many modern shows can’t compare. The current media climate often treats lesbian relationships as a commodity, something to be flaunted for ratings, and it’s thrown in your face. Yes, there are good ones out there. But there are far more that are AWFUL, and Xena, with all it’s 90′s cheese and bad SFX, is better than ever. So there. In conclusion, yes, almost the entirety of the modern and NEW Xena fan community came and stayed for Xena/Gabrielle. But back in the day, it was a much more diverse crowd, and the only reason the fandom has distilled down to one group has nothing to do with Xena, and everything to do with society, media, and culture as a WHOLE.

[homaikaike]

Opinions and Discussing the Nonexistent Diaspora

Part Two of: “Misplaced” Hawaiians and the Myth of the Non-Existent Diaspora

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Final (Whole Project)

Hawaiian Studies 343: Myths of Hawaiian History | 21 October 2020

“Wow, it’s hard to believe you’re from Texas. I thought you were a local!” I hear this quite often actually; from cashiers in stores, to school faculty, and professors. Maybe it stems from the fact that I can understand pidgin, the creole English dialect used locally in Hawaiʻi. Or maybe it is because I have brown skin, Polynesian-style tattoos, golden bangles on my wrist and Locals brand slippers on my feet. As a “returned” Hawaiian from diaspora, I have been called “local-passing”, as in I am a person who could “pass” for being someone who lives in Hawaiʻi. Which is odd, because I do live in Hawaiʻi. It has been nearly three years since I have moved back to the home sands of my ancestors, yet my Texas driver’s license and preference for a southern twang is what nullifies any connection I could have to Hawaiʻi. I grew up in the Hawaiian diaspora, and though I could even be “Hawaiian-passing” as an actual Hawaiian person, it is because I did not grow up here that I am just another outsider. The list of opinions posed upon the Hawaiian diaspora and those living in it is lengthy and a discussion waiting to happen. I will begin this discussion here.

Before going into the many complexities of the diasporic identity and the various reactions to its existence, it is first important to unpack who is Hawaiian. It is known that Hawaiians are an ethnic group. Hawaiians are defined by ancestry, which is an important root in the discussion of Hawaiian identity. Starting with this, Hawaiians are those native to the islands of Hawaiʻi (Kanaka Maoli[1]). However, I find it important to mention that—especially in regards to the topic of this paper—that Kanaka Maoli, ethnic Hawaiians, are not less Hawaiian if they live away from Hawaiʻi and those who are living in Hawaiʻi today are not all ethnically Hawaiian. In today’s context and as generally accepted, Hawaiian is a race not a nationality; A Kanaka Maoli is one of Hawaiian ancestry, with all the kuleana[2] of a Native Hawaiian.

A misunderstanding takes place once “Hawaiian” is defined; though the definition mentioned previously explains that someone who is ethnically Hawaiian will still be Hawaiian regardless of where they live, people seem to forget that Hawaiians are located all around the world. There are many occasions on which friends and family have been met with the myth that Hawaiians simply do not live outside of Hawaiʻi. This, in theory, is unreasonable, given the plethora of reasons [to be researched] why a Kanaka Maoli would leave Hawaiʻi. The American military has a large presence in Hawaiʻi and throughout the Pacific, enlisting Pacific peoples into the Army or another branch, which then takes them to places all over the globe. In fact, the military is why I, and countless other Hawaiians in Texas ended up in such a place far from “home”. An editorial found in the Hawaii Tribune Herald, explains how the financial situation in Hawaiʻi is another factor causing Hawaiians to move off-island, pulling quotes from people currently living in the Hawaiian diaspora of the continental United States.

I’d love to come back home, but the economy in Hawaii was killing us financially. Milk [in Utah] is $1.25 a gallon...I am heartbroken every day because I want to come home, but reality reminds me why I cannot (Dawn Lehuanani Hutchinson, Utah).[3]

While many Hawaiians in diaspora find “easier” or “more affordable” lives outside of Hawaiʻi, that struggle that pushes natives out is not often recognized.

Social media is one thing that connects people to each other around the world. It is how many Hawaiians in diaspora keep in touch with family and friends in Hawaiʻi, and stay up-to-date with issues and events happening back home. However, it has also become a place for people to voice their opinions on public forums without invitation. One instance that lives rent-free in my mind, happened on Facebook; in the midst of the Protect Mauna Kea movement, an aunty of mine who lived in Texas had created a post on a group page about Mauna Kea. Though it has since been deleted because of the conflict it had caused, I remember it fairly well. She had posted something along the lines of: “Texas ʻohana[4] is sending aloha[5], please let us know if there is anything we can do from here.” Several comments were made, shaming her for living in Texas; for calling herself part of an ʻohana when she had chosen to leave her homeland, and saying that if she was “really a Kanaka” she would be on Hawaiʻi standing with the lāhui[6]. These comments were harmful, unprecedented, and showed that those diaspora communities still face judgement for having moved away from Hawaiʻi.

What could be more jarring though, is the judgment faced upon returning to Hawaiʻi. In my own experience, the Texas-made Hawaiian pride I had grown up with was suddenly lost upon moving back to Hawaiʻi for college. It was as if my Hawaiian identity was lost, because all I became to local Hawaiians in Hawaiʻi was Texan. I had grown up in Texas, not Hawaiʻi and therefore to them I was not Hawaiian. I was not alone in this either, and many teachers who realized this have spoken to me about never losing pride for who I am. Kanaka scholar ʻIlima Long, is a “returned” diasporic Hawaiian, meaning that she has returned to live in Hawaiʻi from her previous life in diaspora. Having worked with plenty of students during her time, she is one of the kumu that not only understands the experiences of diasporic Hawaiian youth, but also what that experience can contribute to academically:

I trip out when I think about how many [diasporic] Hawaiians I know who've [returned] home that I'm close to in Hawai'i, and what they bring to the lāhui from that positionality. But these are folks who have largely worked through the jolting identity issues that face kanaka who come home.[7]

Though the many opinions and happenings expressed in this paper have been of a negative nature, there has been a changing of the tides. Also on social media, there has been a recognition of these struggles, where people have been speaking out against hate and judgement. Because of this, I feel that the greater idea—the pride of being part of culture actively being oppressed—has instead connected those in diaspora communities to those in the local Hawaiian communities, with many locals now recognizing the difficulties and inner identity struggles that people face with being a Hawaiian raised away from Hawaiʻi.

It must be hard to grow up as Native diaspora. I can relate on a small level, living away from [Hawaiʻi] for the past 7 years...Ultimately your choice, but claiming your right as an Indigenous person is liberating and freeing. I know I feel closer to my ancestors when I own my identity as a Native Hawaiian. Hope no one ever makes you feel that you are less Native because you are diaspora or because of your blood quantum. If that ever happened, remember that is not our ways.[8]

While there are countless more opinions to be unpacked and addressed with an academic eye, being a Hawaiian that returned to Hawaiʻi from diaspora has been both a blessing and a curse; a push-and-pull experience where the complexities of identity have been questioned on multiple occasions. Learning what pushes Hawaiians away from Hawaiʻi and addressing that directly, could be the first step in debunking the myth that Hawaiians do not exist outside of Hawaiʻi, and ending the shame within our own communities.

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Notes

*all pictures used above are mine, courtesy of me*

[1]Mary Kawena Pukui and Samuel H. Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary: Hawaiian-English-Hawaiian, Rev. and enl. Ed. (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1986), 127: Human, person; 240, native, indigenous, respectively. Together referring to an indigenous Hawaiian. See also: Jonathan Osorio, “What Kine Hawaiian Are You?”, (The Contemporary Pacific, 2001), pg. 361.

[2]Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary: Hawaiian-English-Hawaiian, 179: right, concern, responsibility.

[3]Keli'i Akina, "Why People Are Leaving 'Paradise'," editorial, Hawaii Tribune Herald, June 28, 2019, accessed October 21, 2020, https://www.hawaiitribune-herald.com/2019/06/02/opinion/why-people-are-leaving-paradise/)

[4]Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary: Hawaiian-English-Hawaiian, 276: family, relative, kin group.

[5]Ibid., 21: Love, compassion, sympathy.

[6]Ibid., 190: Nation, race, a people.

[7]ʻIlima Long, Twitter post. March 6, 2019, 7:03 a.m., https://twitter.com/ItsIlima/status/1103340225609129984.

[8]Palakiko Chandler, Twitter post. December 5, 2019, 1:00 p.m., https://twitter.com/palakiks/status/1202724336144007168.

sources

Akina, Keli'i. "Why People Are Leaving 'Paradise'." Editorial. Hawaii Tribune Herald, June 28, 2019. Accessed October 21, 2020. https://www.hawaiitribune-herald.com/2019/06/02/opinion/why-people-are-leaving-paradise/.

Chandler, Palakiko. “Twitter / @palakiks: It must be hard to grow up Native…” December 5, 2019, 1:00 p.m., https://twitter.com/palakiks/status/1202724336144007168.

Long, Ilima. “Twitter / @ItsIlima: I trip out when I think about…” March 6, 2019, 7:03 a.m.‏ https://twitter.com/ItsIlima/status/1103340225609129984.

Osorio, John Kamakawiwoole. “‘What Kine Hawaiian Are You?" A Mo'olelo about Nationhood, Race, History, and the Contemporary Sovereignty Movement in Hawai'i.” The Contemporary Pacific 13, no. 2 (2001): 359–79.

Pukui, Mary Kawena., and Samuel H. Elbert. Hawaiian Dictionary: Hawaiian-English, English-Hawaiian. Honolulu, HI: Univ. of Hawaiʻi Press, 1986.