#where the answer is uncomplicated and easy

[a-really-bad-decision]

Look. I get that folks who are approaching the finale from this angle are usually doing so from a place of genuine good faith and love for Joel. But like. If your immediate reaction after finishing season 1 is to insist that the cure never could have been developed/distributed/tested/viable and that the Fireflies were stupid/naive/slapdicks/never could have accomplished it anyways, so Joel Definitely Did Nothing Wrong, I can’t help but feel like you’re wildly missing the point of it all.

Because like. Joel did not ever care if the cure could have worked. He did not care if it’s what Ellie might have wanted in that moment (neither did the fireflies of course, but they’re not the ones who traveled by her side, protected her, made her feel safe and cared about). Neither of these were ever a point of consideration in the finale. Ellie’s death and the resultant hypothetical cure could have had a guaranteed 100% success rate. It could have spread instantly, around the world the moment they removed her brain from her skull, turning every single runner, clicker, and bloater back to a healthy human being, with no deleterious side effect.

And Joel still would have shot that doctor point blank in the face.

Because that moment right there, is the point. To me at least. It’s the climax that the whole story has been building towards: a father’s beautiful, selfish decision to save his daughter at the literal cost of the entire world. And not just the world in an abstract sense, but in ways that carry weight to him on a deeply personal level. Tess’ dying wish. A real future for his niece or nephew. Ellie’s own agency in all of this. And he did it without hesitating for a moment.

Going from treating Ellie like cargo, like a clicker waiting to happen, to deciding that her life is more important to him than than any other human being who was or ever will be born? Regardless of whether it’s “““healthy”””, that’s an incredible fucking relationship arc. And it only has this level of gravity and meaning if there are genuine consequences to making that decision.

(And let me be clear here: none of this is a moral indictment of Joel. Joel’s motivations, actions, decisions etc. are all incredibly blatant, human, and relatable, and if he’d done anything but go on that rampage, it would have contradicted everything we know and understand about him so far. Also, he’s fucking fictional. Who gives a shit if he did a Kinda Amoral Thing. None of it is real, and it doesn’t matter)

The argument here isn’t that Fireflies Good And Smart And Can Totally Save The World For Sure Guys, or Joel Did Objectively Bad Thing And Is Unforgivable Bad Forever Now. The argument is that the show is much more interesting and internally consistent if you buy into the idea that there’s a chance, even a slim one, that the fireflies could have extracted a viable vaccine at the terrible cost of a fourteen year old girl’s life. That maybe Joel did prevent a cure from being made – that he potentially did doom the world for Ellie (or at least doomed it to another few decades of limping painfully by until something else came along). And that despite the cost, he pulled that trigger, brutally and without hesitation. He did it knowing that he’ll have to go on living with the knowledge of what he took from everyone, and how effortless it was to make that choice in spite of it all. That he’ll willingly betray Ellie’s trust as many times as he has to if it means keeping her from taking the burden of that guilt on herself, but also because he can’t bear the thought of her hating him if she learned the truth. And most of all (and in his own words), that if he was given the chance to go back and do it again, he would have made the exact same choice all over.

You take that out, and what kinda finale do you get now? A run and gun scene of a man rescuing a girl that he’s come to love, sure, but now it’s from a bunch of one dimensional, child murdering villains, set in a place they never had to go to, preceded by a journey that was rendered useless before they even left, all because there was never any chance of it working in the first place. Pointless roundabout cynicism, and an endpoint that now textually only existed to stick the protagonists in their get along sweater.

You don’t have to agree with this specific interpretation of the ending. I get that this can come across as a harsh reading of Joel, especially since he’s a character that myself and others genuinely like a lot. But that nitpicky fixation on proving that the cure never could have worked always felt more for the benefit of the uncomfortable player/viewer than as any sort of actual narrative improvement. A way to divest yourself of ever having to sit with the weight of either choice. Of having to think about the way that a secret so massive, sitting unspoken between you and a loved one, can rot that relationship. Of the way that someone you thought you trusted can act in your best interests, but against your own wishes.

And if that’s not what you want from the show, genuinely and without judgment: that’s fine. You keep doing you. I’m just not sure why you’re watching something like tlou otherwise.

[fulcrums501st]

Honestly I think the main thing I can’t look past in s2 is how it offers super simple solutions to incredibly complex and nuanced questions that s1 set up so intricately.

How can someone like Jinx ever become stable or well adjusted? Oh her hallucinations basically cease cuz she just becomes depressed and then before she can get over that brief period of apathy and go back to her psychotic self, she adopts a kid that basically brings Powder back. So the super crazy Jinx we expected to see after the cliffhanger of s1 never gets the chance to form! Isha serves as a plot device to avoid a complicated answer to Jinx’s mental issues and question of identity.

How can Vi and Jinx ever become sisters again after they’ve changed to much, is it even possible for them to reconcile? OH their dead dad comes back and reminds them of the good old days so we can ignore all the present and much more recent shit that has happened! And we’ll just really reaffirm that Jinx is Vander’s kid and not Silco’s after ep 4! This is the easy way out to the sister conflict, literally just reminding them that “oh yeah! We did used to be sisters!” And then Jinx can just die so we don’t need explore a complicated road to recovery that Jinx would have needed to embark on! Wow. What a cop out.

Will Zaun and Piltover ever be able to escape the cycle of violence that plagues them that is rooted in complex systemic oppression and inequality? Is violence the answers? Or will it only perpetuate more conflict? How can compromise come about with the rising extremism on both sides? How can Zaun and Piltover ever progress while acknowledging the horrors of the past, but still retaining optimism for the future? OH! Let’s actually just not even BOTHER exploring Piltover/Zaun at all!! They’ll team up to fight foreign 3rd enemy (literally foreign cuz Noxus is literally another nation interfering) and an incredibly simple exploration of forgiveness is the answer! Definitely not cliché as crap.

Complex questions, basic, uncomplicated answers. I simply wish the writers had chosen to prioritize themes and exploring interesting nuances more than big plot climatic style battle in the end. I see visions of nuance there, but they fall flat cuz of the fast pacing and what plots the story chose to prioritize, which don’t organically continue the setup from s1

And the season doesn’t do enough to properly explore these answer to justify them answering those questions. They use plot point through plot point to force the characters to where they need them to be without doing anything interesting with them to explore these complex themes from s1. and after speeding through all these arcs and themes they turn around and pretend like they perfectly answered these questions without putting in any of the work to bother exploring them

[extraordinarilyextreme]

on 妖 yao (and 慕声 Mu Sheng) in 永夜星河 Love Game in Eastern Fantasy (2024)

crossposted from a twitter thread!

there are SO many things i love about YYXH, but something i really appreciate is their portrayal of 妖 yao.

in ep. 10, Mu Sheng says, “人心有七窍，妖心只有一窍。所以大多数妖物的品行都简单执拗。” / "Human hearts have seven apertures [are complex and calculating]; but yao hearts have only one [are simple]. That's why the conduct of most yao creatures is uncomplicated and obstinate."

窍 / apertures (openings; orifices) are where the human body is connected to the outside world. as such, 七窍 seven orifices usually refers to the eyes (2), nose (2 nostrils), ears (2), and mouth (1). BUT...

in the context of the heart, it more often alludes to the virtuous character of 比干 Prince Bigan from the Ming dynasty novel 《封神演义》 Investiture of the Gods.

there, it was said that 圣人之心有七窍 / the hearts of saints [good men] have seven apertures...

...so, of course, the righteous and smart Bigan was rumored to possess a 七窍玲珑心 / lit. delicate seven aperture heart.

Bigan's story didn't end well (his heart was cut out by order of the infamous King Zhou of Shang), but 七窍玲珑 still means "clever and quick-witted."

now... 窍 can mean "opening"—but another way to say so could be 眼 / eye (or, "hole"). that is, we can draw a near-equivalency between 七窍玲珑心 / lit. seven-chambered heart and 多心眼 / lit. many heart's eyes; an overabundance of concern...

in particular, 多心眼 (or to say that someone 心眼多) not only implies wit and sharpness (i.e., "having a lot of thoughts"), but also some level of cunning and shrewdness. that is, to be "mindful of many things" means one is "considering of many things" and "calculating."

hence, returning to Mu Sheng's explanation: humans are crafty, always thinking of a hundred other variables and planning another hundred steps ahead. (that's why humans betray and deceive and hurt one another...)

but yao are simple.

yao don't have so many of these excess considerations. if they are hungry, they will seek to feed. if they are hurt, they will fight back. if they are scared, they will hide. if they are cared for, they will respond with equal gentleness.

in other words: yao are not human.

and this distinction is what made so many classic xianxias and yao-centric stories so compelling (think 白素贞 Bai Suzhen from the romance folktale 白蛇传 White Snake Legend).

to discuss our beloved 慕声 Mu Sheng as an example: it can be easy to say he has a jiejie-complex or is almost yandere-like about 慕瑶 Mu Yao, but we have to remember that as half-yao, he doesn't operate on the same frame of reference as humans. Mu Yao is the one person who has been consistently kind to him since he was young, and so he will reciprocate that kindness to (human standards of) extremity. likewise, when our cutie-pie 凌妙妙 Ling Miaomiao regards him with kindness, Mu Sheng will feel inclined to answer that with affections a hundred or a thousand times stronger.

though he grew up among humans, Mu Sheng's yao half should not be forgotten. humans may be fickle in their feelings; but yao (in general) will not be. once they have found someone worth their affections, they will love fiercely and to a terrifying degree. you can also understand it as yao not necessarily posessing the same understanding of 分寸 / "propriety" that humans do.

so, again, yao are not human—and that is why their stories have always been so compelling to us. we place limits on our conduct and behavior for a variety of socially-imposed and learned reasons, but yao as an imperfect reflection of our human selves allow us to live out our "fantasies" of extremity.

i think the new era of xianxias have largely traded that yao-human distinction for other things, like eye-catching CGI, flowy costumes, and the three lives, three worlds formula—which are, of course, not inherently bad.

YYXH itself is part of this new chapter of storytelling/the genre of xianxias after all (esp. given its existence as a 古偶), but that is ultimately precisely why it stands out so much to me.

is it the first or only xianxia in recent years to show that yao are nuanced? that yao are neither all good nor all bad? — of course not!

but i think it is undoubtedly among the very, very few in recent years that has successfully portrayed just what it is that makes yao so uniquely compelling. and that is due in large part to both strong writers (who also did 《苍兰诀》 Love Between Fairy and Devil) and strong actors.

in short, YYXH feels like a labor of love. love for the original 《黑莲花攻略手册》 novel; love for the xianxia genre; love for storytelling, in an era driven by capitalistic cash-grabs and the ruthlessness of c-ent.

the reality of that is up for debate, but as one individual viewer, i want to say that this drama has made me very happy. it is both respectful of and pays homage to the yao of classic xianxias.

and to be able to share and enjoy that cultural artefact—something that is so uniquely and immutably Chinese—with others, is something that brings me a lot of joy. ✨

[chronicowboy]

guilty feet have no rhythm | 1k

Eddie doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. Happy, uncomplicated, free. The world is fuzzy, warm where it wraps around him, dips under his feet like it's making way for him. Everything is so easy tonight. And it's not just the alcohol, not the tequila running warm and smooth through his veins.

No, it had been so spectacularly easy before he'd even had a drink. He'd been easy and full of joy the moment Buck had showed up on his doorstep with two freshly dry cleaned suits that they'd destroyed within the first hour of the party. It had felt, for a moment, like the house had taken its first deep breath in weeks when Buck had stepped inside.

They're in the bathroom again. Eddie has lost count of how many times they've ventured to the toilets tonight. All that alcohol, wreaking havoc on bladders and hand-eye coordination and stomachs. This time, Buck's sleeve has been soaked through by tequila, and Eddie hadn't really had an excuse to follow him in here except the thought of peeling himself from Buck's side had sent a wave of wrong through him so powerful he'd thought he was about to throw up the steak dinner they'd sat down for before karaoke.

So, he follows Buck to the bathroom, falling back against the wall when Buck notices him there and smiles brighter than the neon paint on the walls. He watches Buck shove his sodden arm under the hand dryer, and the steady whine of it fills Eddie's brain with a static that leaves him defenceless.

"What does it feel like?" The words slip out the moment the dryer shuts off with a click.

"Warm, wet," Buck answers with a cute little twist to his eyebrows. He tilts his head to the side, looking every bit like the stray puppy on their street Eddie had fallen in love with when he was twelve and his dad had called Animal Control on. "Have you not... used a hand dryer before?"

"No, Buck," Eddie groans, tastes the name on his tongue like a burst of colour. Yellow like a sunflower, or golden like sunlight itself, or pink like a birthmark as familiar to him as breathing. "What does kissing a man feel like?"

"Oh!" Buck grins, bouncing on his feet a little. He almost topples over with the energy that fills him at the question, and Eddie curls his hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and hold him steady only because he doesn't feel so steady himself all of a sudden. Buck leans back against the wall opposite Eddie, getting a little lost in something Eddie can only imagine. "It's..." He sighs, long and dreamy. Eddie wants to catch it in his hands, press it to his chest, feel whatever certainty Buck is feeling now.

Certainty. The word lodges itself in Eddie's throat. That's it. That's what he's been missing. That's what's been making the world feel so... Uninhabitable recently. Eddie hasn't felt certain about anything since that solid weight had dropped through his chest at the graveyard. And even now he's still not certain what that weight was. But he'd been a hell of a lot more sure about that than he has been about anything with his girlfriend.

"It's... What?" Eddie prompts, suddenly, certainly desperate for the answer.

"Life-changing," Buck breathes, eyes the colour of an endless sky.

"How?"

"I don't know how to explain it." Buck shakes his head. "It's not really all that different except for all the ways it's different."

"Like what?" Eddie feels like a little kid, boundless in their curiosity, about to get an answer to a question they can barely comprehend.

"Like the stubble," Buck begins, eyes dropping to Eddie's jaw. "The tilting your head up instead of down, the hard chest against yours, the big hands on your waist." His voice turns dreamy, breathy. Eddie understands painfully, feels like he's just run a marathon. "But it's not really..."

"It's not really what?" It sounds like a plea in the muffled silence of the bathroom.

"It doesn't feel all that different when your eyes are closed, you know?" Except Eddie doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore. "But that empty space that's been inside you your whole life suddenly feels full."

"Oh." Eddie rubs a knuckle down his breastbone like he's trying to wake himself up with a sternal rub.

"You should try it, Eddie," Buck says then.

"What?"

The world disappears out from under his feet.

"You should kiss a man. It's—"

Eddie takes two steps and changes his life.

Eddie kisses Buck, and it's everything Buck had said. The delicious scratch of stubble, the slight upwards tilt of his head, the hard chest against his, the big hands around his waist, the filling up of that empty space. Except it's all that and more. It's Buck's stubble, it's Buck leaning down to breach that tiny gap between them despite the shocked noise that Eddie drinks from his mouth, it's Buck's firm chest under his hands and Buck's heartbeat pounding against his, it's Buck's calloused but endlessly gentle hands burning through his shirt just above his hips, it's the empty space in his chest not just filling up but overflowing with right right right —

Wrong.

The blast of the hand dryer rips them apart, and Eddie stumbles backwards, wild and free and oh-so-complicated. Every moment of his life before that kiss is rewritten into a writhing mass of wrong as everything else becomes entirely clear. For the first time in his life, Eddie is certain. Certain of two things: he never wants to kiss a woman again, he never wants to kiss anyone but Buck again.

"How was that?" Buck whispers, chest heaving despite the fact that it hadn't really been anything more than a brush of lips.

"Life-changing," Eddie croaks, the sound of it lost as Chim comes stumbling into the bathroom with a blast of Careless Whisper.

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 23

Prompt: Bondage Pairing: dom!rigger!Hyunjin x fem!sub!reader   WC: 2k Summary: The contract exists for both of your comfort and safety. Sometimes that really fucking sucks. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hyunjin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: traffic light system, scene is stopped(red is used), subspace, shibari as therapy, vague contract mentions, dry humping, taking photos in compromising positions, dirty talk, a lot of build up for not much pay off ya’ll.

I tried to do my best with showing a scene where a safety word is used and the scene stops because I feel like we don’t really see a ton of that in smut.

 The rope is purple and silky. You usually used red, it was what you’d seen most online but Hyunjin insisted on purple this time. It would go better against your complexion, he said. Just looking down over your intricately knotted body, you could tell he was right after all.  He smirks as you look over your shoulder to make eye contact with him. “You trust me enough to tie you up in all sorts of positions but don’t trust my eye for color.”  “I’m just used to the classics.”  “Was I wrong?” He circles you, eyes tracing the latticework of your chest harness.  “No, no but-”  Hyunjin casually interrupts you, “then if you’re satisfied so far get onto the bed and we’ll do the hips and legs.” He’s not obviously dominant. Not especially tall or loud or strong. His confidence carries off his tone in such a way that you find yourself sitting into the mattress without a second thought. “You’re being so good for me today.” He quips, carefully folding your leg up to bind your calf to your thigh. Two fingers slip underneath the rope as he carefully loops and wraps the full way down, his fingers are cooler than your thighs. The methodical and meticulous manner he does each knot is calming. Or maybe it’s the hard hug of the chest harness dulling your nervous system.  Hawkish as he looks over his work. You squirm, “your breath tickles,” you offer as an excuse. In reality your heart is thumping suddenly, irrationally. You don’t trust many people but you trust him. Focusing on the way the ropes tighten across you as you breathe, you count in your head.  Hyunjin’s hand touches your shoulder. Your eyes flutter open, you didn’t even realize they were closed. “Color?”  “Green,” a whisper in your heart says yellow. It’s not the ropes that have you nervous. It’s not the restraints. The restraints are the only thing keeping you grounded. Don’t fall for your platonic rigger, you begged yourself. Don’t fuck this up. He doesn’t like you like that, it’s his job, his hobby.  “You’re not as talkative today. Is it okay?”  You try a hand wavy easy answer. “It’s been a week. I’ve been looking forward to this.” Short and uncomplicated and complimentary.  “Mhm, good to know our sessions are helpful for you too.” Hyunjin’s gaze flicks back to the ropes. Sliding two fingers and slightly realigning one of the bars of rope, generally fussing where none needed to happen. “I like these two ties for a couple reasons. Obviously both are aesthetically pleasing.”  Hyunjin slides his hands under two of the thicker knots at the center of your chest and tugs you forward, legs spreading wide and nose almost to the belt of his pants. Your mouth drops, mind slipping into a haze.  “The second reason is both are incredibly practical for positioning. I could teach you them if you want. Both you could self-tie.” Hyunjin continues to smile down at you seemingly oblivious to the mess he’s made.  You shake your head no, unwilling to use the brainpower to respond with words.  “It must've been a rough week, I don’t think I’ve seen you slip like this before.” Hyunjin’s hand cups your chin as you lay weight into his palm. You float, eyes glazed, kept safe in his warm grasp. Safe was a term you used so infrequently and yet tied up at the mercy of this man you felt it fully. A man you only really knew in this context and nothing more, only a life within the directives of your agreement. But you like the way he makes you feel small and precious, like a piece of art to behold.  Stepping back to admire his work, your chin drops. You miss the warmth. “Really my best work yet I think. The purple…” he tsks lightly. “And to think you were fighting me on the purple.” Eyes raking your body you feel it, the swell of your mound, the wanting deepening in your core. “Do you mind if I take a picture? I promise it won’t have your face in it.”

 Not a part of the contract.  Tongue numb and heavy in your mouth you nod.  The thought flits across your mind, “I’d do anything for you to keep looking at me like that.”  Hyunjin’s hand cards through your hair, gently pulling your head back with it. “Even though your face isn’t in the photos I’d love to see the column of your neck just like that. Makes the line of your body look just lovely.”  It’d look even better with your cock in it.  Heat creeps up the shell of your ears. He looks at you longer than you expect, his hand lingers just a little longer than feels necessary. Although what, of any of this, is necessary? You feel yourself going a little crazy as your ignored cunt throbs.  “Are we comfortable?” Hyunjin finally turns from you, the zipper of his tool kit jangling as he assembles his camera. You don’t respond, still posed perfectly as he’d set you. His eyes travel to your hands, still long and loose, no tapping which he’s trained himself to notice when you’re like this. Finger wiggles meant uncomfortable, two distinct taps meant stop. It had developed naturally.  Squatting next to you a few feet away the shutter clicks. You inhale sharply.  “That’s it, let me see how the rope holds you,” he encourages you as your hips tilt and your binding presses into your skin. Not so secretly you pray for some of the pressure in your gut to release, your cunt pulsing and starting to leak. A small frustrated whine sits in the back of your throat. “That’s my girl, you’re sitting so lovely for me,” his praises continue in the flurry of clicks. “Move your body really slowly for me, focus on the drag of the cables. Really focus on slowly letting them dig into you.”  As you slowly shift around you follow his instructions, feeling how tilting one way or the other will tug and slacken opposite sides. The sturdiness of his knots never feel constrictive, instead like a silken steel frame to hold you up. Like an armor almost. You barely notice the clicking has ceased and the only sound in the room is that of your small whines and his reedy breathing.

 Hyunjin knows he needs to focus. For both of you. You, who is so fragile in his hands. So willing to give in where he knows it’s hardest for you. Yet here he is, palms sweating like a schoolboy, mouth cottony dry. “I have an idea for another shot if you’re willing.”  You look at him with cloudy lusty eyes, nodding almost innocently as you slowly hump the air. He could take you so easily like this.  “Before you agree you should hear what it is,” he tsks. As much as it sounds like he’s only scolding you, most of the judgment is internal. “I need to slot my leg between yours. Your mouth, chest, and thighs will be visible. And of course, my pants.”  You nod with a whine.  Hyunjin’s stomach drops as he approaches you and slides his leg close. He’s used to being close to you. He’s used to being close to you when you are deep in subspace. Even when you don’t know how wet and glistening your thighs have become he’s never had this issue. He’s almost glad for the constriction of his pants, unyielding fabric forcing his cock to his body. The camera lens between you works like a shield, separating himself from the scene.  “I bet you’d look good grinding on my shoe.”  You moan, head tilting back as you hips move forward, threatening to breach the contract.  He gasps as the shutter clicks, both your bodies arcing together into an ambiguous darkness. Hyunjin hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  “You like that, don’t you?” He asks tentatively. This isn’t exactly against the contract but it certainly is a new territory. “Want me to tell you more about how beautiful you look?”  You moan again, collarbone broadening as your chest heaves.  “Whoever gets to cum on those lips of yours is blessed,” his hand reaches forward, forgetting his place for a moment. “They’re already so perfectly glossy just with your spit. I bet they’re soft and warm too.”  Your tongue presses into your lower lip, tip flexing to leave a small inviting reservoir that you hope he takes advantage of. Every muscle is practically screaming and begging for him to cave into your unvoiced desires. Your forehead wrinkles as your brows furrow, wishing for a sudden telepathic link to tell him everything you need.  Hyunjin’s knuckles are white as he grips his camera. The heat of your body is so close to him. It would be so easy for him to take advantage of his. His heart seizes as his cock throbs. Pliant and needy and trusting and right there in his grasp.  Neither of you are sure who closes the gap but the second you touch it feels like wires shorting. Every neuron in both of your bodies fizzles and spits. Sparking and burning as you inhale ecstatically and Hyunjin recoils.  “Red,” Hyunjin says, almost breathless. Pacing back to his bag of tools to set his camera down. “I’m sorry I need to end the session here.” The next thing you know your feel the cool metal of safety scissors cutting into the delicate rope.  Though you’re still dopey, concern bubbles in your chest. “These ropes are expensive, let me-”  Hyunjin shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that.” Guilt settles in his stomach. He was so close. That trust you both had built he was so close to ruining. His blood is icy, shocked into sluggishness. There were so many normal steps that were skipped when he called to halt the scene. Though calling to end the scene was right, he feels like crying.  You wrap the fuzzy robe set in the corner of the room around yourself. Footsteps falling softly on the floor you ask, “do you want to be the little spoon or the big spoon?”  “Can you just put your head on my chest and hold me for a bit?”  Nodding, you sit and wait for him on the edge of the bed. Your heart seizes and pangs in an un-platonic way as he settles back on the other side of the bed. Had he asked others for aftercare like this? Not that it should matter to you.  “That was intense,” you whisper, trying to sound nonchalant.  “I’m sorry. I got too-”  “I liked it. If that helps.”  He chuckles disconcertingly, eyes to the ceiling. “We have pretty specific terms of our agreement and I-” he stops and considers his next words carefully. “-I had to step back.”  You nestle closer into his side. His slight frame doesn’t make a particularly good pillow but it doesn’t bother you much. “Intense isn’t bad it’s just I-”  Quiet settles over the both of you. Now you’re the one considering your next words as you feel your heart skip several beats. “That’s why I trust you, if that helps. We can always revisit the terms. Now that we know each other. We can revise them.”  His laugh bounces your head. “Right. We can revise them.”

I tried to do my best with showing a scene where a safety word is used and the scene stops because I feel like we don’t really see a ton of that in smut.

[changbinsboobs]

who in skz would mtl marry someone due to getting them pregnant by acting recklessly or on implusive behaviours without using protection or if they were drunk per se?

Skz MTL to marry someone cuz of accidental pregnancy

So as with most men when faced with a difficult question or decision they evaded the question and situation and put the burden of that on the woman💀 im not very satisfied with the kind of "answers" i got but im gonna do my best. Just gonna say that they have no idea how they would go about it and they would feel terrible - like overall thats the predominant energy. But imma go into details now.

Chan

He really, really doesn't want to. And im either getting the vibe that he would like the kid to be aborted (if the moms also on board), cuz he won't be there to provide any support and he doesn't want the responsibility of it. Or on the other hand im getting an energy where he's gonna just suck it up and bear the consequences of his reckless actions, no matter the price. Idk which ones the more prevelent one tho, so may be his inner wish vs what he actually does.

Lee Know

Would think lots and lots abot the whole situation including if he wants to keep the baby or not. Either way, if the mom decides to keep it he'll provide financial security for sure! Im not really seeing anything about being a father or marriage - but he wants to act correctly in the matter as much as possible so im not really sure here either im not getting any answers on the marriage thing but im definitely getting confirmation on him being at least financially supportive whit whatever the woman and the child may need and im actually getting a friendship relationship at least. So even if they don't get married he will be a present figure every once in a while in his child's life.

Changbin

He would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED!!!!! But he will marry here. I was actually a bit unsure while drawing the cards but now that im immersing myself in this energy i think in his head there's no other way about this. How can he fail his duties as a man and impregnate a woman he had no intentions on marrying or impregnating and then leaving her on her own?! With HIS child?!?! Tarnishing her honor?!?!!? Being an embarrassment and failure to his family? Bringing shame upon them?!?!! He could NEVER do that. And thats why he's so devastated because he feels like such a failure for being so reckless and doing such a fatal, life changing mistake. And the worst of all - he wants to marry for love. But probably he wouldn't. Because if he loves the woman he's sleeping with, this child wouldn't be accidental in the way that its unwanted. No matter what he would embrace it with all his being. But if the pregnancy causes anxiety in him, then its not the woman for him, and now he's forced to marry a woman he doesn't love, while the love of his life is somewhere out there looking for him, waiting. And he feels like he's disappointing her even too, because he can't go out and find her, as he has to stay home with his wife and raise a child that was unwanted, that's not HIS (destined) child.

(I swear that guys into some spiritual shit) (Also i feel like exagerates the hefthiness of the situation i think, but thats another thing i notice in a lot of men where they just make such a big deal of things and make it all so complicated ugh...drama queens)

Hyunjin

My guy would welcome it with open arms. Not seeing specifically marriage, but i think he would be pretty excited about being a dad and i can see him being easily persuaded into marriage for the greater good of the child. Arrangements can be made along the way. The energy's very easy-going and uncomplicated which actually surprises me a bit but out of all i think he has the best energy about this.

Han

Short and sweet: he doesn't have to worry about that (que a smug smile)

(Do with that what you want)

Felix

I don't think he would marry. He wants his autonomy, his freedom. He will provide support tho, and he's ready to work something out that works for both (all) parties. Im seeing him also being fully ready to be a father figure if needed, being of constant help in many different ways. But i don't think he'll tie himself down like that.

Seungmin

No

I.N

This one's the most difficult to read i dont even know what i should right on here cuz its all so muffled. For your information he has The Moon card and the energy here's so gloomy and sticky and damp and muffled. I think if he gets faced with the news he would go into a minor depression for a while, all kinds of voiced ing at him, not being able to find the right path, i think he would be a mess and not know ANYTHING. He wont know how he feels about the baby, if he wants to keep it or not, if he likes the girl, if he wants to marry, if he wants to marry HER, about his parents, about her parents, he will just have one big hole in his mind but at the same time thousand of different voices and thoughts all around him suffocating him so in short - i think he'll be in a state where he's completely incapable of doing whatever it was and more or less leave the girl be completely on her own, which lead me to believe that eventually he'll abandon her and not marry her cuz the energy gives me similar vibes. Being in a frozen state not giving a definitive no but not a yes either, not giving anything - equals abandonment in my opinion. If you're not gonna be there mentally anyways then whats the use?

As in lots of my readings i feel like the maknea line wasn't very vocal and didn't have much to say about this but the older once had plenty to say apparently😂 maybe thats a genuine fear they've had flow in their head every once in a while😂

Most

1.Hyunjin / Changbin

2.Lee Know

3.Chan

4.Felix

5.I.N

6.Seungmin

Least

Hans outside of the table cuz my guy doesn't habe to worry about that apparently🙌🏻

[wild-typo-turtle]

Home for the Holidays - Part 1 of 3

On your way home from work, you see a mysterious door. And since you're the only one who can see it, there's really only one call you can make...

A Steve Rogers x Reader fic for @stellar-solar-flare Stella's Starry Winter Sky Challenge!

Rating: T

Themes: Meet-cute, Reader has a secret, other worlds

Home for the Holidays - Part 1

The door wasn't much to look at, actually.

You stared at it, your hands clutching the cup of steaming hot chocolate that had been your indulgence as you'd closed down the bookstore. Your breath plumed out into the night, but you barely noticed how cold it was. Or how dark - it was the solstice, the darkest night of the year, and the air around you was black and frozen.

There was a door.

You knew you'd never seen it before. You crossed this park almost every day, twice a day: once on your way to work, once on your way home. You had certainly never seen a door standing there all by itself with no walls around it. 

You weren't sure that anyone else could see it. You stood there gaping at it, but no one else seemed to be. 

You pulled your phone from your pocket, pretending to be absorbed in it as you slowly approached the door.

It was an old door. The wood was weathered and splintered; it had been neglected. The handle, also wood, was a round knob, worn smooth and shiny with years and hands. It looked as though it belonged in a barn, as if opening it would take you into a feed room or a tack room.

Your phone lit up, and you really did look down at it that time.

Ben: Done with rehearsal. Doing anything?

You could just walk away. You could head home, and you could text Ben back when you got there. And his blessedly uncomplicated self could come over and you could enjoy a few hours with him before it was time to go to sleep. Maybe he'd stay the night, and you could get breakfast in the morning at the little cafe down the street that made the best cinnamon raisin bread.

But on the other hand…

There was that door.

The door where there shouldn't be a door. The door that no one could see but you.

Were you losing it? Were you hallucinating?

But then you noticed something else. Everyone walking past the door walked around it, deliberately avoiding the obstacle. On some level, they knew it was there. 

You weren't crazy.

And as you looked at it, you remembered something you'd seen on the news a few months ago. Something about a tip line for unusual occurrences in New York.

Back to your phone. And it was an easy search to find the number, and a woman's voice answered after only one ring. 

“Avengers Initiative, how may I assist you?”

“Yes, um…” You cleared your throat. “Um. Hi. There's…there's this door…”

-~-~-

They had asked you to wait until they arrived, assuring you that it wouldn’t be long. And so you found yourself an empty bench within sight of the door, huddled in your coat and sipping on your cooling hot chocolate, your breath pluming out in clouds in the clear and frosty air. For all the bustle in the park, it was quiet, a perfect winter night at the height of the cold and the dark. 

You watched the door. Nothing happened.

People kept walking around it absently. You watched their feet for something to do as you waited; they seemed to feel the door’s presence about ten feet away, their steps slowly angling around it. Far enough that the motion did not need to be sudden or jerky; it was subtle, smooth, easy not to notice. And no one did - even those few whose heads were high, looking forward and not buried in their phones - seemed unaware that they had adjusted their paths.

It was quiet, and that made it easy to hear the new footsteps. They crunched briskly through the snow, and you turned away from the door to see them coming towards you.

Eek.

You’d figured the Avengers would send some sort of preliminary team - the equivalent of a beat cop, just to check things out and make sure you weren’t lying. But no, they had sent the big guns, faces you’d only seen on television and the Internet, striding toward you and ignoring the gasps and stares that greeted them and that followed in their wake.

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow.

Sam Wilson, the Falcon.

Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. 

And Steve Rogers himself. Captain America, at the head of the group. 

It was a good thing you’d finished the hot chocolate several minutes ago. It would have ended up splattered on the ground.

You had about thirty seconds before they reached you, and you frantically tried to gather your composure. You stood up and brushed off your coat; you threw away your empty cup in the garbage can next to your bench. You’d given the woman on the phone your name, but they wouldn’t know what you looked like, you would need to - 

Oh. They were coming straight for you.

You gulped as they came up to you. Rogers gave you a nod of greeting; he was the only one to do so. The rest of them were busy scanning the park; their postures said they were relaxed, but their faces maintained alertness, looking for any and every possible threat. 

“Ma’am,” he said politely. “Thank you for waiting for us.”

“I, uh - um, yeah, no trouble,” you fumbled. “I wasn’t…wasn’t expecting…”

“Oh, us?” He grinned, chuckling, as you flapped your hand at him and his teammates. “Well, yeah. Normally we wouldn’t come right away, but we verified your report at the Tower. It’s not anything that would have tripped up our early detection systems, but once we looked for it, you’re absolutely right. There’s definitely something going on here. So we called in the cavalry.”

You couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief at the confirmation that you hadn’t lost your mind. Rogers saw it, and his grin softened a little bit.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You did the right thing by calling us in. This is exactly why the A.I. even exists.”  

You nodded mutely, but you weren't sure if Rogers saw it. He was already turning to his teammates, Wilson and Romanov, his brow lifting in inquiry as Barnes continued surveilling the park.

“Anything?”

Romanov was holding some kind of tablet, and she was poking at the screen in unmistakable frustration. “Something, but that's about all I can tell you,” she grumbled. “It's like a fly in your house. You know it's there, but finding it's a bitch.”

Captain Rogers looked back at you, and the expression on his face was heavy. “Look, I'm sorry,” he began, and you did not like the sound of that. “I'd do it, normally. One of us would. But since you're the only one who can see it…”

“He's asking you to open the door,” Barnes said, not even turning back to look at you. “And he would do it, the stupid punk.”

Rogers let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan, a grumble, and a snarl - but you noticed that he didn’t attempt to deny what Barnes had said. Either part of it.

You looked at him, your insides trembling, and he laid a hand - a big, strong hand, and you were certainly noticing those details - on your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said, very quietly. “If you don’t want to, we can find another way. There are people we can call.”

People, but those people hadn’t come with him, and there was probably a reason for that. They would take time to arrive, and who knew what would happen while they were getting here?

You were no hero. You worked in a bookstore, you lived alone with your cat, and the closest thing you had to a romantic relationship was a friends-with-benefits actor. You weren’t like these people. 

But maybe you could be, just for one night.

You squared your shoulders, looking up at Rogers. 

“I’ll do it.”

-~-~-

They made a plan. And after they’d done so, more agents arrived, garden-variety this time, cordoning off a circle around the door and setting up a perimeter of barriers and screens. You were still the only one who could see it - Rogers had checked with everyone as they’d arrived - but they’d given you some plastic stakes to mark where it was. Everything was terribly efficient, and it was easy to forget the chill in the air with the bustle of activity. You stood huddled in your coat, watching, until Rogers waved you over to a section of the perimeter. It was draped on three sides with tarps, creating a small tent, and someone had set up a little portable heater that was doing an excellent job of warming up the space. 

As you got there, sighing happily at the heat, you noticed that Rogers was holding what looked like a climbing harness and a coil of rope. 

“Ever worn one of these?” he asked. When you shook your head, he continued. “Nothing to it - just a safety precaution. We’ll have the rope attached to the harness and we’ll secure it here. That way if something tries to pull you into - uh, well, wherever that door goes - we can get you out of the way fast.”

You nodded, trying not to think about being pulled into wherever that door goes. Instead you let Rogers help you into the harness, easing it over your coat and helping you tighten the straps, and tying the rope to a metal ring on the back. 

And then, what seemed like a mere second later, you were standing in front of the door.

Behind you, Rogers and Barnes were holding onto the rope. The sight of the two supersoldiers didn’t exactly banish the butterflies in your stomach, but their solid forms did inspire at least a little bit of confidence. They weren’t going to let you go anywhere.

You offered Rogers a small, trembly smile, before you turned back to face the door. Romanov was right beside you, and she nodded at you. Just once - but it was, in its way, just as reassuring as the two men holding the rope. You got the impression that there was very little she couldn’t handle.

“You ready?” she said softly. 

Off to your right, Wilson was standing with his wings extended. He was the backup plan: if Rogers and Barnes lost hold of the rope, he would dive in and try to grab you before you were pulled in too far. You were no hero, and yet they were treating you as if your life was just as precious as theirs. 

Well. Perhaps that was what made a hero, a hero.

In answer to Romanov’s question, you shuffled forward two steps and placed your hand on the doorknob.

It was cold. Ice cold, and you hissed as the chill bit at your skin even through your thick mitten. Your teeth chattered, and you stumbled back a step, as Romanov caught you. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you gritted out. “Just - ‘s just cold.”     

But you were all right. And now that you were braced for it, it wasn’t as bad when you touched the knob again. You twisted it, and it moved easily in your hand, and the door fell open.

You were not sure what you’d been expecting. But it definitely had not been an older gentleman standing on the other side of the door. 

He didn’t move. 

His hair was an ashy, golden white - a color that made you certain he had been as blond as Steve Rogers in his youth. He was dressed in brilliant green, a tunic and trousers and a thick cloak, green with accents of gold and red. A thin golden circlet sat on his brow, and as you looked at him, he bent, sweeping into a deep bow that almost left him lying flat upon the ground.

It was winter beyond the door, too. A light snow was falling, and it was piled up high around the gentleman’s brown boots. 

No one spoke. No one moved. Everyone was staring at the strange man as he straightened from his bow, and looked straight at you.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Continue to Part 2!

[hedghost]

Please can you write about Alesia having the hots for the girl cleaning her pool😩just something about her wearing sunglasses to try to hide the fact she keeps staring the pool girls abs

alessia russo / hot and bothered

amidst her heavy football schedule, alessia rarely got a day to just relax, and so she relished her occasional time off, and none more so than when she got the chance to go back to her family home in italy.

just the chance to do nothing at all, to relax into the familiar motions of a place she knew well, where she could spend all day sunning herself by the pool, or chilling inside with her family, only really moving once the sun had gone down. it was easy, and it was uncomplicated, and thats why she loved it.

or at least, it was usually uncomplicated. normally, there were no unwanted distractions from her dedicated rest and relaxation time. today, though, as she tanned on a sunbed on the patio, something else had caught her attention. someone else.

as much as she didn’t want to, alessia tended to rise early. despite being on holiday, she still had to keep her body clock in some sort of rhythm, and so, far earlier than she would’ve liked, she extricated herself from her sheets, haphazardly threw on a bikini, and padded downstairs in such of something to keep her occupied until everyone else woke up.

no one else seemed to be awake, and so alessia grabbed herself a drink and headed out to the pool. at this hour, the sun was not yet at its peak, and the heat wasn’t unbearable, so she figured she’d be able to grab both a bit of extra sleep and a tan.

alessia wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going, still half asleep and precariously balancing a coffee in one hand as she navigated the edge of the pool, and so she only noticed she had company when she tripped over her own two feet. she braced herself for a rather watery impact, but it never came.

instead, alessia found herself staring, dumbfounded, into the eyes of potentially the prettiest girl she’d ever seen.

stai bene? you asked as you righted alessia, strong hands gently tugging her away from the water’s edge.

alessia’s italian was a little rusty, sure, but she knew enough to understand that phrase. still though, she only swallowed, cheeks flushing as she flicked between not wanting to look away and wanting to bury her head in the proverbial sand.

when she didn’t respond, you repeated yourself in english.

you alright?

alessia blushed. great - now you probably thought she was stupid, as well as clumsy. nice going less.

alessia swallowed, her throat considerably dryer than it had been before. she pulled her gaze away from your eyes, which were twinkling with a sort of gentle bemusement that alessia suddenly wanted to bask in forever.

sorry, i- uh, yeah alessia exhaled as her composure regained itself, smiling softly as she nodded yeah, i’m fine, sorry, are you?

it occurred belatedly to alessia that she probably should’ve asked in italian, and she cursed her ineptitude around pretty girls once again. her worries subsided however when you answered easily in fluent english, flashing her a glinting smile.

yeah, i’m all good

alessia nodded but didn’t move from where she stood, still facing you. her mind raced with ways not to end the conversation, although she perhaps should’ve been instead questioning why exactly a strange girl was walking around her pool at 8 in the morning. in hindsight, it was a good thing you weren’t a burglar, because alessia would’ve been of no use whatsoever, seemingly lovestruck as she was.

you rubbed the back of your neck with a grin, gesturing to the pool awkwardly and looking at her with an expectant smirk. it was only then that alessia tore her eyes from your face, down to the mass of pool cleaning equipment you gripped in your arms. very toned, bronze arms, alessia noted with a blush, before she mentally slapped herself.

oh! right, you’re here to clean the pool?

that’s me, you said with a grin. alessia flushed - was the sun getting hotter, or was it the fact you still hadn’t broken eye contact that was riling her up like this? you pointed past alessia towards the water again.

may i? i don’t want to disturb your morning

alessia nodded and stepped to the side to allow you past. she watched you walk away, swallowing at how your back muscles rippled under the vest you wore. a little awkwardly she called after you.

yeah, you’re fine!

you turned to her, smirking, one eyebrow raised in silent question. alessia scrambled to explain. god she was so bad at this.

i mean like, you’re fine, as in it’s fine, like, it’s not - you’re not disturbing me. she felt her cheeks flush and she trailed off rather lamely- is what i mean

mercifully though, you laughed and nodded. even from the increased distance between you, alessia could feel the intensity of your eyes, felt pierced in the best way possible by your gaze. you turned and set to work.

alessia, still reeling giddily from the interaction, settled herself on a nearby sun lounger. pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes, she sipped absentmindedly at her coffee. she tried to read her book (honestly, she did) but soon gave up after her eyes flicked over the same paragraph for the fourth time.

she was trying to ration herself to only the occasional glance up at you working, but clearly your body demanded more attention than her brain could handle. she kept her eyes trained on the book, trying to distract herself, but you were all she could focus on right now.

allowing herself the grace to sneak a look up once more, alessia nearly choked on her drink. you’d removed your vest, leaving you in only a bikini top and very small shorts. glad for the cover of her sunglasses, alessia took in your toned abs, the slight sheen of sweat that clung to them as you worked in the morning heat.

alessia thought she was being subtle, that she was totally not obvious as she shamelessly checked you out. she wasn’t sure how long she watched, not thinking of much other than how your fingers gripped your equipment, the way your biceps flexed as you worked, how it might feel to be gripped those fingers, be held by those arms-

stop it alessia. you don’t even know her.

she was so preoccupied with watching you (and the rather detailed thoughts that watching you provoked) that she didn’t notice your laugh, or the way you cleared your throat one, two times.

everything okay?

you called, grinning at how alessia jumped and averted her eyes. you smirked. alessia tried to stutter a response but you just laughed goodnaturedly, walking over to her sunlounger.

the sunglasses could only hide so much. they didn’t hide her blush. you pointed it out to her with a smile.

you’re a bit pink, would you like some sun lotion?

if alessia had thought she couldn’t talk before, this was a whole new level. the stuttered squeak she let out was so unlike her that it only set her off blushing madly again.

you produced, out of god knows where, a bottle of sunblock, and gestured to alessia’s shoulders.

may i?

alessia could only nod - surely this was some very steamy dream? or had she stumbled into the set of a cliche romance film?

alessia flinched slightly as the cold cream touched her back. at least that was the excuse she was going with. definitely nothing to do with the gentle yet firm touch of your fingers as you massaged the cream gently over her back, the way your touch was like static shock, sending currents of need all throughout her body. nope, definitely not.

she felt like she was combusting, like every vein inside her was screaming with equal measures unadulterated pleasure and crushing embarrassment. taking a deep breath, alessia allowed herself instead to relax into your hands- to relax into this insanely attractive situation she’d magically found herself in. as bizarre as it was, she had no complaints.

alessia barely realised when you stopped, too blissfully unaware of what was going on. it was only when you walked around to face her that she regained some semblance of self-control. finding her voice, she spoke, thankfully able to string words together now.

thank you

you smiled, shrugging as you did so.

not a problem, wouldn’t want you to burn

just like that you stood, beginning to gather your various pieces of cleaning equipment.

oh, are you leaving?

yep, all done for the day, then you turned back to alessia and winked- show’s over i’m afraid

alessia blushed again. okay so maybe she hadn’t been that subtle. mercifully, you didn’t seem annoyed. in fact, the smile you flashed her was borderline encouraging to her fantasies. you waved as you turned, calling over your shoulder with a borderline devilish smirk.

same time tomorrow?

alessia grinned. she leaned back on the sun lounger feeling considerably hot and bothered, and also maybe a little smug. it looked like she’d found her early morning entertainment for the holiday.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

feelings on norstappen?

i love them. thats the uncomplicated answer.

the complicated answer is that theyre two men doomed by media twisting stories and their fans fighting that you'd think it was easy for them to just hate each other after years of friendship because of the pressure and the championship, yet they're two men who decided to say fuck toxic masculinity where we don't make real efforts in friendships, and worked through their issues happening on track and on media and the million perceptions of their fans about respect and disrespect and worked on not letting it affect them off track and are still very much fond of each other because how can they not be? a wdc and a future wdc and they love each other and celebrate each other's victories, and they're told to hate each other by the fans and the teams and the media and the world, and they keep holding hands and giving gentle butt taps and smile and giggle and gossip cause that's the real norstappen.

[sciderman]

I think Peter finding out Gwen was not a perfect angel is even more heartbreaking because she had things to figure out, some looking into herself to do.

And when she died, yes she had her whole life in front of her, college, a job, dreams...ect. But for Peter, she was already all she would be as a person, her futur was things to do, not a person to becomes.

And it hurt even more, realizing she could have grown.

oh yep – oh yep. that kind of is - yeah. that's the crux of why peter and gwen in 9319 fell apart. peter parker was so, so resilient to change.

change is a threat, to him. it's terrifying. change means people leaving. change means him not being able to keep up. change means uncertainty. instability. change means unanswered questions.

peter - peter craves something simple.

he always craves easy answers. he wants things to be straightforward. he wants things to be bland. he wants things to be uncomplicated for him. things are always - always so complicated for him.

he's so resilient to things becoming too complicated for him to understand. and gwen was one of those things. one of those things that he so desperately wanted to be uncomplicated.

gwen kind of starts recognising this, and it becomes something she's afraid of. gwen knows that she has to evolve. she knows there are things she needs to figure out. and she knows there are things peter needs to figure out, too. but peter won't hear it.

[x]

peter won't hear it, and gwen's suffocating because of it. gwen has the desire to evolve - to accept that something is wrong and she and peter both need to face it, but peter's in denial, and knows he's in denial.

but peter doesn't want to believe that he and gwen could be anything less than perfect. gwen is an angel, and his lifeline, and the only good thing about him.

[x]

right now in the process of writing girl's night - the flipside to boy's night, where we're in gwen's head (for the first time!) and we get to see just what her anxieties were. and, oh. my bread-and-butter - existential nightmares.

and - well, we're kind of seeing it resurfacing, with 9319 peter of present. he craves simplicity, but is dating the most complicated man in the world. misfortune ensues.

[baffledandbewildered]

[dismp] how do you love?

Easily - too easily, maybe.

Betty doesn’t think too much about the definition of the word. She loves her friends, she loves those who are maybe a little more than friends to her, she loves a little too easily and love and care maybe get a little mixed up in her head sometimes but she’d rather care too much than too little.

With some people it’s uncomplicated. When she’s with Ace - well, she’s failing miserably at this whole flirting thing but she doesn’t think Ace minds; it’s easy to sit on the dock and fish together, to talk and share worries and offer protection, offer the same sanctuary Ace gave her all those weeks ago. It’s comforting.

With others, complicated takes on a whole new meaning. With Sin and Deli it’s been complicated for a while now, but the Gameshow throws the mess they're in into sharp clarity.

And it’s all Betty’s fault.

There’s a cave, far far away from anything important, where Sunset meets a few days later. A little behind the three of them is the place where she first died - it’s not quite fear, what she feels when she looks at it. It’s a different emotion, one she can’t name. It feels a little like being haunted.

 The three of them talk, honestly, for the first time in a while. It’s more truth than Betty has said out loud in a while, and that thought lies bitter in her mind, makes the apologies falling from her lips burn, because this all should have been said so long ago.

And it’s still not the whole truth, because there’s still the nagging, echoing thought in her mind from her conversation with Blue, yesterday. She doesn’t know if she has the strength to say it out loud yet.

She loves them, but she can’t stay with them. She wants to, she wants to so badly it hurts, she is so tired of being alone, but - well. She has to be realistic.

So. Yeah. Complicated.

There are others, of course. She loves easily, quickly. It doesn’t take much to make her care about someone. And that’s complicated in itself, because everyone has their different allegiances, different enemies, different friends. Some people even switch between friend and enemy and back again as time passes and she can never work out how to feel.

She doesn’t expect her feelings to be reciprocated with all of them, which makes it worse, maybe. She’s happy caring for people, saying stay alive, please be kind to yourself without expecting anything in return. Maybe she should have higher expectations for people. But she doesn’t and that means everything is just so complicated all the time and maybe things have spiralled a little or a lot but she doesn’t know how to fix it.

And here she is, stuck in the middle of it and still feeling so alone.

But how does she love? There’s more than one answer to that question.

She writes books, she gives gifts, pushes heart materials into hands and begs them to stay alive. She talks, sometimes, tries to put her feelings into words, tries to offer solace and a listening ear. She can’t offer honesty, not always, and it hurts to lie and mislead or to refuse to answer, especially to people who’ve given her nothing but kindness, but she offers everything else she can give, even her own life, and prays the offering conveys the words she can’t say - I love you, I’m sorry, there are things I cannot change -

Because at the end of the day she loves so easily and so deeply and yet still she is so alone. She misses seeing her teammates at their base, easy laughter and smiles, she misses spending time with them both even though she knows that these are the consequences of her actions, the end of a long line of very bad decisions and she knows it’s not something she can fix on her own.

The worst part of it is she knows that there are people who are there for her still. She knows that if she asked - but she can’t bring herself to say anything, because there’s still an ache in her heart and so many scars across her body and she doesn’t think she could cope with another betrayal.

So she stays silent. 

And she is alone alone alone even as she hangs out at spawn and talks to people, makes alliances, even repairs a relationship she thought shattered, even though it’s so difficult to make people trust her when she has so many secrets -

She knows how to be vulnerable, in some ways, she’s never been the sort of person to hide her weaknesses, hide her fear. But when it comes to honesty her words fail her and she can’t blame people for refusing to place trust in her. Her loneliness is her own fault, really.

But still. She cares, and she says what she can, and there’s a book in her e-chest with a list of names, a list of apologies to make, because eventually consequences will come knocking and she won’t run away from that. She’s always been willing to sacrifice herself for people she loves.

[horse-girl-anthy]

in analysis of RGU and Ikuhara works more broadly, I've often drawn a distinction between uncomplicated childhood bonds and fraught adolescent relationships. I didn't come up with this comparison on my own, but was influenced by Enokido Yōji, who often touches on it in interviews. however, in my own writing, I've pinpointed sexuality as the cause of tension in relationships as characters age. while I was always aware that the issue was more complicated than that, I'm now questioning whether sexuality was the answer in the first place. further thoughts under the cut.

when I first set out to write this piece, I was planning on framing it in terms of platonic versus romantic love, but I'm not sure that distinction is meaningful in the context of Ikuhara works. in the Kotani interview, Ikuhara outlined a far more meaningful contrast between "romance" and "romantic":

"Romantic" has become a word for girls, and "romance" basically a word for men. In short, "romantic" is something that comes from the other. Like, I'll make you into a princess, or I'll arrange a wedding at a wonderful location; it's a world which a prince will appear from and return into. While "romance" is something like venturing into the trackless wilderness, that kind of world.

I can't see "romantic love" in any other way than how Ikuhara has described here--it is an illusion sold to people, the idea that someone else will come into their lives and fulfill them. in RGU, this can clearly be seen in the fantasy of the prince, but it manifests in Ikuhara's other works as well.

given that, I think it makes more sense to compare the platonic and the sexual, which brings us back to the original topic: the contrast between childhood and adolescent relationships. it's easy to say that childhood relationships are uncomplicated because of the lack of sexual tension, whereas adolescent (and adult) relationships are fraught due to it. but there are a lot of assumptions wrapped up in that way of thinking.

it's been common across many cultures to equate youth with virginity and sex with adulthood. this conception is played with in Utena a couple times, most notably in episode 18 where Tsuwabuki tries to grow up more quickly by gaining sexual experience.

this scene clearly contrasts Utena and Anthy on this front; Anthy appears to be teasing, perfectly in control of the situation, while Utena is vaguely aware of what's being implied and is uncomfortable with it. certainly, the most sexual characters in RGU appear to be the most powerful: Anthy, Akio, and Touga. but are they the most mature? does sexual experience equate to adulthood?

Enokido is enlightening on this topic. from his privacy files:

It is said that a human being gains whatever he lost in exchange. So what did Touga gain in exchange [for his abuse]? It was the sense of alienation from being abused every night and seeing his innocent friend and sister during the day. The alienated self. [..] And it is out of this awareness of alienation that you come to obtain a higher humanity and sexual self-awareness. In the TV series, Saionji always felt that he was one step behind Touga. Although the two are more or less equal in terms of ability, what Saionji lacked was that sense of alienation. 

both Anthy and Touga were sexually abused as children. as Enokido describes, they may have gained something through it. but what they gained was not adulthood.

I'm certainly not the first person to note that the dress Anthy wears in episode 38 is the same one we see her in as a child. through this visual cue, the show is hinting at the fact that Anthy, as adult as she may seem, is still frozen at the time of her terrible trauma. that's not to discount her canniness or maturity--I do believe she is mature in many ways--yet the little girl inside her remains.

and what of Akio? isn't he just a parody of what a child believes adulthood to be? all his bad boy hijinks fail to even make him an interesting person, much less a mature one.

now let's consider the platonic. I once argued that all Ikuhara works are about friendship, and I stand by that. given that I think friendship is a serious issue in Ikuhara, not to be taken for granted, I shouldn't dismiss it as belonging to the realm of childhood; rather, it's the end goal for all his characters.

Enokido claims people experience easy platonic love in childhood but lose it along the way and thus pine away for it. if it's not sexuality that creates the rift he refers to, what is it?

I won't deny that sexuality may be a factor, but to name it as the cause is a mistake. in the first place, are children non-sexual beings? many adults believe so, but an entry-level knowledge of child psychology tells us otherwise. there is a physiological change that occurs during puberty, typically a major one; I'm not denying that. rather, I'm questioning whether it's the absence of sexuality that makes childhood relationships uncomplicated, or if it's the lack of awareness of social norms surrounding sexuality and gender that's the cause.

I don't want to go too far here; Yurikuma provides plenty of examples of lust acting as a barrier to true love. however, need lust and love always be in conflict? Sarazanmai seems to say that without the libidinal power of our desire, we will not be able to connect with one another.

I'd like to come back to Ikuhara's definition of "romance," as opposed to "the romantic." a romance is a journey in which one sets out into a pathless land. in true Ikuhara fashion, he depicts this metaphorically--romance in RGU means deciding for oneself how to think, how to live. in the pathless land, distinctions are no longer needed, including the distinction between the platonic and the sexual. the hope is to obtain love; sex is a way to express love, if one so chooses, but need not carry any more connotations with it than that. that's a vision of adulthood I can get behind.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Take a Chance (Part 1)

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Rating: General (but MDNI)

Summary: Crosshair finally caves and sets up an appointment with Right to Love. He doesn’t expect much out of it, but what he gets is softer and brighter than even he could ask for. 

Warnings: Crosshair angst (because that’s a warning I guess); peep my matchmaker OC Tal, love them dearly; brotherly teasing

A/N: @wolffegirlsunite submitted a prompt about Crosshair at carnivals and I just kinda…ran with it. In this AU, the Citadel never happened, so Echo is not with the Batch.

WC: 3.2k

Crosshair had mastered the art of patience a long time ago. He had to; it was a requirement of his specialization as a sniper. Sitting for long, boring hours in a secured hideout, there had been times on missions where he didn’t move for hours, at minimum. One learned how to be patient when all one had was time to pass. He thrived in those situations. After all, it was what he was made for. 

What he hadn’t yet mastered was the art of civilian life. He’d rather perch in the branches of some scraggly pine on some far-off Mid-Rim world, teeth chattering in his bucket from the cold, than sit here in this waiting room. Despite the facade this damned service had so clearly cultivated to be comforting, he felt on edge, nerves screaming at him. Soft music chimed pleasantly from the speakers hanging from the ceiling corners. Vanilla, warm and inviting, cloyed in his nose. Adorning the walls, right, cheerful posters touted sickeningly saccharine slogans. We’ll help you find your path! and At Right to Love, we’ll make sure your love is right for you!

His upper lip curled in the barest hint of a scowl. Karking hell, why had he let Wrecker talk him into this? 

With a slight shake of his head, Crosshair refocused on the datapad resting in his lap. He was supposed to fill out this questionnaire to let the matchmakers do their job, but all he could think about was the vulnerability of it all. He had to just…give away personal information? Just like that? Kriff, even his brothers had given up getting him to talk about his feelings before he was ready.

Leading him to another worry, one he’d never admit out loud, and certainly wasn’t about to admit to himself. Was he ready for this? 

His first impulse was, yes of course. He’s Crosshair, member of one of the most elite squadrons of clone troopers in the entire existence of the Grand Army of the Republic. Clone Force 99 didn’t back down from challenges, and had a 100% mission success rate. 

Or at least, they did. When the GAR still existed. When the war still raged and when clones’ lives were valued less than dirt. 

He’d answered exactly three of the twenty-five questions so far. The fourth question, “How would you best describe your personality?” presented options that felt so…restrictive. Was he a) shy and reserved, b) expressive and open, c) humorous but private, d) uncomplicated and easy-going, or e) other? 

Crosshair had been labeled as “other” his entire life. Frustration simmered in his chest, hot and annoying. 

Just as he was about to stand, chuck the datapad back at the receptionist, and storm out, the receptionist in question cleared her throat.

“You don’t have to answer every single question, darlin’,” she said, smacking her gum. “That’s just to help us get started.” 

He felt the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen in spite of himself. “Anyone ever turn in a blank form?”

Her dark eyes met his, narrowed behind square spectacles, before she shook her head with a reluctant grin. “There’s a first time for everythin’. We’re all about firsts here.” 

“Yeah.” He huffed, looking back down at the datapad. The rest of the questions were similarly vague and aggravating as the personality one, but by the time he reached the last one, he was surprised to find that he’d filled in nearly half of the responses. 

Sweeping his gaze across the waiting room once more, he couldn’t help but pick out the imperfections, the way that that one paint stroke lifted some of the first coat underneath there by the corner, or the way that the ceiling tile above him only appeared symmetrical but every third one was slightly shorter, or the way that the receptionist’s eyeliner had one, tiny, nearly imperceptible gap where it had snagged over her skin. He found that the skin around his nail beds was dry and cracked, red and angry—a nervous habit he’d picked up shortly after the war ended. 

Quit stalling, he snarled to himself. 

The receptionist gave him a fleeting smile as he crossed the room to deposit the datapad on her desk. He wished she wouldn’t. 

“One of our case workers will be with you shortly, dear,” she said. 

He returned to his seat, silent, apprehensive. 

  He didn’t have to wait long; at least the receptionist was right about that. Not even fifteen minutes later, a short, kindly individual with a buzzcut and piercings pushed open the faux-wooden door leading to the back. Crosshair appraised their appearance quickly, an old habit. Black eyeliner on their bottom waterline, round, unframed glasses, a black T-shirt with some indie band Cross had never heard of: he hated to admit it, but the sight of someone dressed so casually put him at ease. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

“Crosshair?” they asked, as if there was anyone else in this damned waiting room. 

Still, Crosshair rose, toothpick clenched between his teeth. Quiet as a wraith, he followed who he assumed would be his case worker down a labyrinth of hallways. Behind a few of the closed doors, the familiar tones of regs’ voices drifted to him, counterpointed by the unfamiliar strains of other case workers. 

At last, his adorned case worker pushed open a door and gestured for Crosshair to enter first.

Slinking past, Crosshair took in every detail at once. Above the corner desk were at least a dozen framed holoscans, most of them featuring his mystery case worker and two others, a beaming brunette woman and a laid-back, dark-skinned man. Crystals of various colors, cuts, and properties sat scattered across the side table nearest the futon; a tapestry arched across the ceiling. One lone plant, a healthy looking thing with glossy castleton green leaves, breathed life into the room from one corner.

“I’m Tal,” the case worker said as they closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfy. Or don’t. Everything here is under your control.” 

Crosshair shot a glance at Tal, head tilting just slightly, so minutely that Tal probably missed it. He hesitated for just a moment before sinking into the futon, the silky black fabric cushioning him as he tucked his feet up. 

“Tea?” Tal asked. 

Poison, came the immediate, instinctive thought.

“No, thanks,” he said. 

Tal shrugged. “Suit yourself.” As they poured steaming water into a waiting mug, they glanced at him. “So, Crosshair, here’s how this works. I’ll ask you a few questions, you can ask me some, and after our meeting, I’ll get to work matching you to some of our clients, yeah?”

“Fine.” Cross shifted the toothpick between his teeth, the poky bit softened and no longer quite so poky. He’d need to grab a fresh one soon. 

For a moment, Cross simply watched as Tal scooped honey into their tea mug, spoon clinking softly as they stirred the drink. The faint scent of…was that chamomile? drifted to him, and he nearly wished he’d accepted the offer.

Nearly. 

“Let’s start with the basics.” Tal set the mug down on a cork coaster. “Why are you here?”

Crosshair quirked an eyebrow, leveling his best unimpressed stare at Tal—who, to his surprise, matched Crosshair’s energy.

“That’s starting with the basics?”

Tal shrugged. “Would you rather I coerce answers on these blank questions?” They waggled a datapad in one hand. 

Sucking on his teeth, all Crosshair could do was shake his head. 

“Great, because I’m sure you hate having teeth pulled as much as I hate pulling them,” Tal said. “What brings you in?” 

“My brother,” Crosshair said flatly. Not technically a lie.

“And is that Tech, Hunter, or Wrecker?”

He clamped down on the toothpick, the fragile wood snapping. “Wrecker.”

Tal typed on the datapad for a moment. “Got it. So, no other reason, nothing more self-motivated?”

“No.”

With a hum, Tal typed some more on the ’pad before setting it to the side. They took a tentative sip of their tea, a smile of satisfaction curling over their lips. 

“Tell me if I get any of this wrong, m’kay?” Tal said. “The war ends last year. You and your brothers get to live a normal life, and you each try dating. Maybe it works for them, maybe it doesn’t, but it certainly doesn’t work for you. None of the people you go out with can get past the fact that you’re a sniper, or a science experiment, or just an ass. So you stop going out. 

“But your brothers don’t. In fact, one by one, they make their way here, to this very office in fact, find themselves partners, and settle into the cushy civilian life you just can’t wrap your head around. You’re happy for them, because they’re your brothers. But you’re also annoyed by them, because they have what you just can’t seem to find.”

Crosshair bristled at the nonchalance with which this individual, this…observer, read him for filth. Removing the now-shattered toothpick from his mouth, Crosshair forced himself to go through the ritual of discarding the broken one, selecting a fresh one from the pouch at his belt, and slipping the dry wood into the pocket of his cheek.

He avoided Tal’s gaze the entire time. In their calculating gaze, Crosshair saw himself reflected. 

“You got part of it wrong,” he eventually said. “I never tried in the first place.”

And it was true. He’d been…arrogant, more than usual, refusing to even entertain the idea of finding a fulfilling relationship outside of his vode. He’d seen the way people looked at him on the streets, even here in the capital, where no one should stand out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of having to put himself on parade just to find happiness. 

“Well,” Tal said, “I can’t be right all of the time.”

A wry smile twisted Crosshair’s mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad experience after all.

  By the time that Crosshair left the RTL building, his stomach crawled with ants. He couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement or some combination of both, but he couldn’t remember feeling so hopeful in a long, long time. Tal had given him their comm frequency and promised to answer any questions if Cross thought of them; and swore that as soon as they found him a match, they’d let him know. In return, Crosshair had given his word that he would think of an answer to the last question Tal had posed before their time was up. “What kind of date do you want to go on?”

Given that he’d never been on any, and certainly didn’t ingest media that portrayed such things, he hadn’t been able to give an answer. He hadn’t even wanted to lie, instead defaulting to his training, the instilled need to have the entire picture before making a decision. Kark, this meant he had to do research. 

Climbing the stairs to the apartment he shared with his brothers, he took the time to school his expression into its usual blank mask. The last thing he needed was for any of them to catch a whiff of where he’d been. He hadn’t even told Wrecker he would go to the matchmaking service; he’d just…left in the middle of the morning after they had all gone their separate ways. 

He lingered in the hall just long enough to determine who was already home. Judging by the raucous laughter, snide remarks, and grumbling complaints, it seemed all three of them were. 

Great. 

The door slid open and whooshed shut behind him as he stepped over the threshold. From the living room, Wrecker’s head peeked around the corner, a broad grin on his scarred face. 

"Was wonderin’ where you went,” he called. 

Cross ambled to the living room, pushed Wrecker back out of the way with one thin hand on his brother’s face. Laughing, Wrecker over-sold the push and landed squarely on his ass on the tile floor. 

Plopping into the beige, worn-out recliner, Cross sighed, running a hand through his short silver hair. He’d need a haircut soon. 

“Out,” he finally answered.

Hunter fixed him with a look, eyebrows scrunched. “‘Out’?”

Crosshair nodded once. Kriff, he should have just gone to his room, avoided this whole mess, but he knew his brothers; once they got on the trail of something, they couldn’t let it go. 

Wrecker lightly kicked the recliner—thought a light kick from him meant that the chair still slid a few inches across the floor with an uncomfortable screech. Hunter winced from his spot on the couch. 

“Did you go you-know-where?” Wrecker asked, voice in a stage-whisper, as if Hunter and Tech weren’t right kriffin’ there. 

Cross rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe Wrecker is referring to the matchmaking service known as Right to Love, which has helped clones find life partners,” Tech interjected with a glance up from his datapad. “A service to which you have been incredibly averse.”

“Hey, I thought I was convincing!” Wrecker’s voice dripped with indignation. “Wasn’t I, Cross?” 

Crosshair cut a glance at his older brother. “No.”

“Aww, Cross, you’re no fun,” Wrecker whined. He stood and lumbered to the kitchen. 

Crosshair met Hunter’s gaze. Knowing his brother could probably smell the karking vanilla candle and chamomile tea on his clothes, he had tried walking through exhaust vents to douse the scent. But the way that Hunter’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, set Crosshair’s heart sinking.

“Well,” Hunter said with a knowing look, “wherever you went, hope you had a good time.”

The rest of the evening passed quietly, the four of them settling into their usual routines. Dinner ate, holoseries watched, old stories swapped, the clock ticked by with an aching slowness. Even as his brothers recounted the latest triple-date ideas they’d had, he couldn’t help but fixate on the building anticipation in his limbs, a jittery, twitchy feeling that had him on edge. All he wanted to do was shut himself in his room and research. 

As soon as the clock showed 10 PM he bid his brothers goodnight and forced himself to walk normally to his room. The second the door slid shut, he rushed to his desk and booted up his datapad, one of Tech’s old ones. 

While the device blipped to life, he lowered himself into his desk chair and gazed at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, cast in ghostly blue from the ’pad homescreen. Eyes wide with apprehension, Crosshair almost didn’t recognize himself. He forced himself to look beyond the mirror image and focus on the scintillating lights of the ecumenopolis. Skyscrapers reached for the stars, lights dotting every floor in a mockery of the galaxy that laid beyond the polluted skies. Speeders whirred past, traffic lanes cruising steadily. Somewhere out there, came the unbidden thought, somewhere out there was the person for him. 

He snapped the datapad shut. 

Someone being right for him meant he was right for somebody, and that thought alone was too much to bear.

He went to bed trying to ignore the heated worm of jealousy burrowing into his spine at the sounds of his brothers’ laughter.

  The next morning, he awoke to the insistent blip-blip-blip of his comlink. Peering with bleary eyes at the tiny screen, it took his sleep-addled brain a moment to parse together why an unsaved frequency was contacting him this early. A glance to the time revealed that it was, in fact, mid-morning. Still. Early for him.

A few possible matches, the message read. Would you like to come in and chat about them, have me send you their profiles, or just pick for you? 

His eyes shot open, suddenly wide awake, as the message sunk in. Sitting upright in bed, he hesitated over his reply, thumbs dancing aimlessly over the keypad. This was sooner than he expected. The fact that there was more than one match made his stomach lurch—there was no way that was right.

A few? was what he ended up writing back. 

Correct, came the reply. Then three bouncing dots appeared, Tal typing another message. There’s no rush. You’re in control here. 

The reminder did little to calm Crosshair’s racing thoughts. Looking over at his reflection in the window, he grimaced at himself. He’d gone to sleep with his clothes on, his short hair spiked up on one side of his head from the awkward sleeping position he’d been in, and blanket marks criss-crossed his face. He at least needed a solid fifteen minutes to look put together, and then hopefully he would feel awake enough to compose a reasonable reply.

And so, fifteen minutes later, he perched on the edge of the living room recliner, comlink in hand as he stared down at the blinking cursor. He’d been given choices. So few people gave him choices, at least before the war ended. He decided he liked having options. 

So absorbed in wracking his brain for a coherent response, he completely missed the tell-tale sounds of Wrecker sneaking up behind him until it was too late. His brother snatched the comlink out of his grasp. Cross reached for his brother, but Wrecker was faster than he looked and darted to the other side of the couch, nimble as a Nexu. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair growled. “Give. It. Back.”

Wrecker’s belly laugh echoed off the walls. “You’ve been actin’ weird since you got home. I wanna see why.” He glanced down at the comlink, lips moving as he silently read the messages to himself, then his mismatched eyes widened. 

“You did go you-know-where!”

Crosshair sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I say that I did, can I have my comlink back?”

“Maybe.”

“Kark, fine. Yes, I went. Now, give it back.” This time, as Cross strode forward to nick the comlink back, Wrecker let him, a ear-splitting grin breaking over his face. 

Cross squinted, unease seeping into his veins at the mirthful glint in his brother’s eyes. “What did you do?”

He whipped the comlink up to his face and glared at the screen. There, in his latest sent messages: Pick for me! 

Chuckling, but already backing away, Wrecker flashed him one final smirk before tearing down the hallway to his room. Crosshair sighed, shoulders deflating. Kark it all to hell, now he’d never hear the end of it. 

The comlink bli-bli-b-b-blipped in his grasp as several messages came through at once. Groaning, he collapsed into the couch, head in his hands, determined to ignore the damned device, but as the notifications continued, he ground his teeth and peeked. 

A torrent of messages from the group chat with his vode. 

Crosshair’s going on a date!!! 

I could have told you that. -Tech 

Proud of you, vod’ika. 

Does this mean we can go on QUADRUPLE dates!?!?!?!?

Calm down, Wrecker, let the man actually meet the person he’s being set up with before you start planning. 

We’re gonna have so much fun!!!! 

I can see why Crosshair chose not to reveal this to us. -Tech 

And at the bottom of the notifications, one lone message from Tal: Great. I’ll send you information about your match as soon as it’s confirmed. Thank you for trusting me with this, Crosshair. 

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

Thank you so much to @thisbuildinghasfeelings @three-drink-amy @birdclowns @orchidscript @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @paperstorm @theghostofashton @heartstringsduet @fitzherbertssmolder @louis-ii-reyes-strand and @welcometololaland for the tags!! 💛💛💛 things are getting REAL in boxing fic.

“What about you?” TK asks. He strokes the hair at the nape of Carlos’s neck, right where his curls are cropped shortest.

“What about me?” Carlos asks, slides a hand under TK’s hoodie, under his shirt, touches fingertips to warm skin underneath.

“Well,” TK says, the start of a smile on his lips. “What’s your darkest secret? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

The answer strikes Carlos instantly. This. This, right here – perpetuating any kind of facade when all he wants to do is lay his soul bare for TK, the way TK has for him, intentional or not. Carlos’s temples start to pound, a pressure starting to build, a feeling just this side of a headache. Carlos has never made trouble, has worked hard to avoid unwanted attention on himself, on his family. He’s worked so hard his whole life to be exactly what he was always meant to be. He’s good at appearances. He’s good at all the outside parts of him seeming smooth and easy, whole and uncomplicated. Carlos is a tidy home with all the mess stuffed into the cupboards. He’s gotten so used to packing it all away. Abruptly, he’s at war with himself. He wants to let TK in, and he wants so badly to protect him, for as long as he possibly can.

“The worst thing I’ve ever done,” Carlos starts, “is waiting so long to kiss you tonight.”

TK hesitates. Something passes through his expression then, something which, for a split second, looks like suspicion. But then he grins, and leans right in, and Carlos tells himself he was simply imagining it.

I’m a little late to the party, so please consider this an open tag. I love reading everyone’s snippets so please feel free to tag me in them! Let me seeeee!

[eriyu]

I was looking through your character's tag and I saw that she has relationships ranging from 'very complicated' to 'fuck buddies and very uncomplicated' and I just want to know more about them. Specifically, why is her relationship with Raha complicated as opposed to Thancred where it's simple?

Oh I love this question. :D

The short answer is just because G'raha is in love with her and Thancred isn't.

There's never been so much as a hint of romantic feeling between her and Thancred, and they've both had their share of casual sex before, so it's very easy for them to just be FWB. That's not to say nothing's ever strained their friendship, between various traumatic events, one of them accidentally spending five bonus years in another world, etc etc, but I say it's simple because there's zero desire on either of their parts for it to be anything but platonic.

G'raha, on the other hand....... Ehryu really, really cares about him; he is one of her favorite people ever, and she is physically attracted to him, but she's grey-aro and if her feelings are romantic at all (maybe? if she squints hard enough?), it's not at all the same as what he feels for her.

So Ehryu thinks he deserves more than what she's willing and able to give him and doesn’t want to lead him on and hurt him, and for G'raha's part, he doesn't want to tie her down or guilt her into anything she doesn’t want. At the same time, it's very difficult for both of them to ignore that there's something there, and eventually (during 5.4) they do talk it out and come to a compromise that lets me be self-indulgent makes both of them happy. :')

[evilelitest2]

Ukraine Russia ConflictPart three, the Kievan Rus

Ok so where did this conflict start?  To understand that, we need to go back to the 9th century, where records are short, legends are long, and nationalists search the seas for mythological times to pine back too.  Welcome to Kievan Rus, aka Ruthenian, aka Svitjod the Great, aka Svitjod the Cold, aka “The place where Russian and Ukraine both trace their origins to this point. 

If anything, this map makes things too clean

 But before we talk about the Rus, we need to talk about “Periodization”.  Periodization is one of the most important concepts about being a historian, it's the dividing the past into distinct parts so it can be easier to understand. If you’ve ever studied Japanese History and are looking at the “Edo Period” or the ‘Showa Period” that's periodization, it's cutting up the past into distinct units.  Periodization is in many ways necessary to understand the past, you can’t study all of it or you will go mad, but it can create these divisions in time which don’t necessarily exist naturally.  A great example of this is the Early Modern Period, which historians use to highlight the development of the trends that will eventually emerge into the modern world.  The slow rise of capitalism, the slow death of feudalism (except in Russia), the downfall of the hegemony of the Catholic Church, the start of mass media, the first movements towards industrialization, the rise of the first global colonial empire and the creation of modern states.  It’s a very useful framework to understand the changes that happened in the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries.  However, if you are a random Hanoverian peasant, as far as you know, there isn’t any difference between 1491 and 1492.  Time periods are useful but they aren’t ironclad things, like money, it's an illusion, just a functional and useful illusion.

nice and simple

The reason why that tangent mattered is that when it comes to what is called “National History”.  So you have a nation right, a whole new cool nation.  How do you make sure everybody is part of this nation?  Oh well you have public schools and in those public schools you have textbooks which teach the history of your country, how neat is that?  So..where do  you start?  History is long and it can be difficult to teach.  Like if the US finally got a national history curriculum, where would you start?  People have lived in the lands of the United states since at least 10,000 BCE, do we start there?  Do we start with the first European arrival in the colonies?   These aren’t neat or easy to answer questions, debates over “where do we start our history” can get really intense.   A lot of French history books will teach the Gauls to be like “look, these are our ancestors” but there is literally a thousand years separating the conquest of Gaul from the Emergence of France.  

Utterly uncomplicated in every way

Periodization matters for our purposes because both Ukraine and Russia point to the Kevian Rus as “the start of their civilization.” and while the events of the late 9th century shouldn’t be affecting us today, apparently it does.

 Another note is that the Kevian Rus is a bit hard to document due to the fact that the people didn’t have a writing system, so what we know comes from archaeological evidence and outside sources, so the make up and borders of this region is a bit hard to define with certainty but fuck it lets go. 

The Kievan Rus consisted of most of central and eastern Ukraine, Belarus, and the western chunk of Russia, and as the name implies it was based in Kiev, what is today the capital of Ukraine, though it wasn’t known as the Kievan Rus at the time, it was called the land of the Rus (due to the ruling Rurik dynasty) or just “Rus''. The earliest version of the word Russia refers to the eastern half of the Kievan Rus, while the western half (what is today Ukraine) was known as Ruthenia.   Since its origins are the stuff of legend, it might have been founded by Norse traders, or Norse people were invited to rule, or a bunch of Vikings settled peacefully in the area, it's a huge flame war among nationalists that isn’t relevant other than to show how much people still care about this area.  The Rus was a major trade network in the area and it was more of a loose confederation of city states rather than a strong centralized empire.  

Most relevant to our story is there relationship to the Byzantine Empire

Byzantium at its largest extent

  TANGENT TIME.  The Byzantine Empire was never called that during their time, they always thought of themselves as the Roman Empire.  When Constantine the Great converted the Empire to Christianity, he moved the capital to the new city of Constantinople (famously the modern city of Istanbul).  A century or so later, the empire split into East and West, with the East being seen as the greater and more powerful of the two.  The Western Roman Empire fell in 476 AD, the east just…kept on going until 1453.   No I’m not kidding, this matters for understanding Ukraine, those Zelensky memes were created in the legacy of Justinian the Great, keep watching.  As mentioned earlier, Western Empire goes Catholic, the Eastern goes Orthodox, and after the west falls, the Eastern Roman Empire keeps on going.  We call it the Byzantine Empire for…complicated reasons I might explore some day.  Anyways, by the time of the Kevian Rus, the Byzantines are the supreme cultural, military and most importantly economic power of Eastern Europe, and the Rus are basically massive fucking simps for them.  Like “please notice me Patriarch senpai '' simps.  They even played a major role in the Varangian Guard, the personal bodyguards of the Byzantine Emperor.  

The Rus were pagan at the time, a mix of the norse pantheon and the Slavic pantheon (pagan religion is complicated and deeply synthetic, I might talk about that in another post), but due to its location it always had Christian, Jewish and Muslim minorities, but it should come as no surprise that in 988 Volodymyr the I or Vladimir the Great converted the kingdom to Christianity, and due his taking a Byzantine bride and thus marrying into the Imperial family, it was of course Orthodox Christainity, thus starting over a thousand years of Orthodoxy in the region.  Anyways, eventually all good things came to an end and by the 12th century it suffered the weaknesses of feudal confederacy (succession crisis) and had largely broken apart in all but name, as local feudal lords sort of went their own way.  This is where the Russian/Ukrainian split first sort of not really occurs, the informal overall Rus still exist but you get these smaller Rus within it, the Novgorod Rus, the Moscow Rus, the Vladimir Rus.  But the distinction between the various Rus comes to matter less than you’d expect because suddenly…MONGOLS 

I really can’t empathize enough how big of a deal the Mongols were on the world stage, and probably one of the few legitimate examples of the Great Man theory of history proving true.  Temujin’s abandonment issues eventually result in an empire which destroys the Status Quo of the Eurasian world, and leads to the largest continental empire in history.  In the Mid 13th century, Temujin, later known as Chiggis Khan (Ghengis Khan to the West) would create the most terrifying military machine in history to that point, which would wipe out whole civilizations.   So suddenly all these Mongols show up and wipe out…basically everything.  The Rus?  Gone.  The Civilization that originated both Russia and Ukraine is now definitely gone for good.  The Mongols keep the East, which becomes part of the “Golden Hoard”, while the west reforms as the Galician-Volhynian Principality, and eventually gets eaten by Poland and Lithuanian.  

Now there have been entire series of books written about the culture, political structure and history of the Kievan Rus but what matters to us is its legacy in the historical memory of Slavic nationalists, the Rus is considered the origin point of both Russia and Ukraine, and many Russian nationalists feel that Kiev is there birthright.  For Americans, this can be a bit hard to imagine because the US has never lost major territory in its history but imagine if Pennsylvania became an independent nation, and now we have all these places of national significance in another country.  Hell we can take this further, Imagine if the East Coast became independent, and Texas history books talk about the founding of the US, but all of the places where the US was created are now outside there territory.   Now that isn’t a justification, “oh my ancestors once lived there so I get to invade’ is stupid.  Also the later Principality of Moscow and the Princedom of Galicia-Volhynia will each claim to be the “true” heir to the Rus, in a manner very similar to the Holy Roman Empire actually.  This isn’t the only thing causing the conflict, but nationalist fanfiction about the origin of the Slavs still plays a major role in modern politics.  This also is a big part of why Russian nationalists don’t consider Ukraine a thing, to them Ukraine is just a different part of Russia with funny accents, not their own nation with their own history.  The Russian conquest of Ukraine (the first one) was presented as a reclaiming of traditional Russian land, not the taking of a foreign land.

Next time, Russian history, because nothing says “I’m going to explain the conflict in Ukraine” like spending most of it on Russia.