#HOW DARE YOU NOT STRICTLY ADHERE TO CANON

[praetorqueenreyna]

Me on my phone at 11 pm trying to piece together the rhysta nonsense

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

Taglist

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[apexapricity]

– B A S I C S –

NAME: DELTA VEGA! ALIAS(ES)/HANDLE(S): VEGA! ...Ya’ll ain’t ever knowing my real name on any tumblr blogs. I’ll tell you over discord tho if you’re curious ARE YOU OVER 18?  am old feels bad man. IS YOUR MUSE?   all my muses are old as shit too lmao. TECHNICALLY. WHEN WAS YOUR BLOG ESTABLISHED? this one? like september/august 2002

– W R I T I N G –

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people)  /  Yes (some people)  /  Highly (few people)  /  Private (mutuals only)

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people)  /  Yes (some people)  /  Highly (few people)

IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH DO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? Not at all  /  A little  /  Some / Mostly /  Strictly  /  Not Applicable

WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? One Liners  /  Single-Para  /  Multi-Para  / Novella

(I prefer multi-para, but I am very flexible with my partners given everyone has muse issues and not every thread is plot heavy/development heavy and needs a lot of words to get the point across.)

DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS? No  /  Gifs  /  Icons

DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS? No  /  Yes

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE? Unplotted  /  Open-Ended Plots (set up a meeting and see what happens)  /  Semi-Plotted (one or two steps ahead) /  Fully Plotted Epics ( plotted beginning, middle, and end )

(I like all the above. Semi-Plotted seems the best option though I do like fully plotted just without endings because I like ‘and then they lived happily ever after :D’ endings for some reason...)

HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? Very Slow (more than a month)  / Slow (3-4 weeks)  /  Average (1-2 weeks)  /  Fast (less than one week) / Very Fast (less than three days)  /  It depends

It honestly depends on A: my muse, B: My real life, and C: My health. You know I’m having a good day if I reply to you immediately lmao.

WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fluff  /  Angst  /  Smut  /  Violence  /   Tragedy   /  Domestic  /  Family  /  Conversational / CRACK

I am very...weird about how I like things. I am a weirdo who enjoys having their characters just sit and have DEEPLY philosophical conversations. Just characters bouncing off one another and getting attached. THEN I also like fluffy domestic threads, fluffy tragedy ones and angst. I like angsty smut. I like smut in general when it’s two characters I really ship and exploring that aspect of the characters relationship since it can divulge a lot of what’s going on in their headspace and even the level of trust between two partners which is both sweet and fascinating.

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) High Fantasy  /  Supernatural  /  Science Fiction  /  Historical  /  Horror  /  Comedy  / Romantic  /  Drama  /  Action  /  Adventure  /  Espionage

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? (not triggers) No  /  Yes  /  Sometimes / Rarely

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? I have some but I honestly don’t read a lot of other peoples threads unless I know them fairly well or think there’s something interesting to look at so it’s rare for me to stumble upon it unless it’s a visual thing. The visual aspect is why i’d ask for it to be tagged so xkit and blacklist stuff can handle it. There are some other things I have blacklisted that aren’t triggers but minor annoyances and I wouldn’t dare ask anyone to stop posting those as it’s a ‘me’ issue.

– S H I P P I N G –

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic  /  Platonic  /  Familial

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic /  Platonic /  Familial

I don’t usually auto-ship with people unless I already know them/have other ships with them. The reason is if we vibe, our characters vibe, our others probably will too. Also I usually have a communication line and feel comfortable talking about things with them. GENERALLY THOUGH I either like plotting or getting a vibe between characters before hand.

DO YOU HAVE OTPS? No  /  Chemistry Only  /  Yes

DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? No  /  YES!!!!

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? Heterosexual  /  Heteroflexible  /  Bisexual  /  Pansexual  /  Homoflexible  /  Homosexual / Demisexual  /  Sapiosexual  /  Asexual

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? Heteroromantic  /  Heteroflexible  /  Biromantic  /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   /  Panromantic  /  Demiromantic  /  Sapioromantic  /  Aromantic

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? No  /  Selectively /  Yes

HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? Autoship  /  During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions  /  Several IC interactions  /  Slow burn  /  Never

i love slow burns a lot. But Val is also the type of person to sleep with someone immediately if she is attracted to them. It just takes a lot more effort and an intense emotional connection/loyalty to tie her down...because she’s immortal and if they’re human she has to deal with the fact she’ll outlive them and have to suffer. If they’re immortal, she has to consider how long eternity is and how painful a break up would be if it were to occur after that long of a duration.

ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? No  /  Selectively /  Yes

I’m happy to write them with select partners given things should be handled sensitively and with respect. Val is generally not a problematic partner in most aspects...Maybe she was different earlier on when she was first exploring her humanity? BUT. I do have another character who has that potential. She uses others as her moral guidance so if she doesn’t have that she’s...very much a villain to a degree? controlling and possessive.

ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (incest, canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) Absolutely NOT  /  Selectively  /  Yes

I’m mostly open to canon history(? whatever that means), age gaps (within reason *gestures at val being old as hell*), and things being complicated. Not really the first due to personal trauma

ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING? No  /  Selectively  /  Yes

Not really for Val necessarily? idk I’d have to think on it but she’s a physical representation of the ‘love’ element and polyamory doesn’t seem to exist in Teyvat as far as I know...and she’s learned about romantic relations from humans. Otherwise just certain muses with certain verses.

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? Never  /  Sometimes /  Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No?  /  Yes

– T A G G I N G! –

tagged by: @willnotdothefandango​

tagging: @arscarrietia​ (Childe because I’m copying Kae since I think it might be wild to do it for two muses unless you wanna for albedo) && ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THE THING THIS LOVELY MONDAY! :D

[corpsetalker]

Name / Alias:   Ree / Pwincess / Lolita

Are you over 18?  Yes  /  No Is your muse(s) over 18?  Yes /  No

When was your blog established? This one? 2019 but it’s basically a combination of all my prior rp blogs that have existed from anywhere between 2014ish to 2018/19.

– W R I T I N G  –

Are you selective about who you write with? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only)

Are you selective about who you follow? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) /  Yes (some people)  /  Highly (few people)

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? Not at all  / A little  / Some  / Mostly /  Strictly /  Not Applicable

What post lengths do you write? One-Liners  / Single-Para /  Multi-Para  /  Novella / All of the aforementioned

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? No  /  Gifs / Icons /  Yes / Sometimes

Do you write on other platforms? No  /  Yes  

What level of plots do you write? Unplotted  /  Open-Ended Plots  /  Semi-Plotted /  Fully Plotted Epics /  All of the aforementioned

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? Very Slow (more than a month) / Slow (3-4 weeks)  / Average (1-2 weeks)  /  Fast (less than one week)  /  Very Fast (less than three days) /  It depends

What types of themes do you like? Adventure / Romance  / Fluff /  Angst / Smut / Violence /  Tragedy /  Domestic  /  Family

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! ) High Fantasy /  Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical /  Horror /  Comedy  / Romantic / Drama / Action / Adventure /  Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers) No  /  Yes  /  Sometimes

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged? Triggers that can manifest on my tumblr dash? No. I don’t need anything special tagged. Maybe maggots to be nice but that’s pretty rare.

– S H I P P I N G –

What types of relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic  /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs? No /  Chemistry Only  / Yes

Do you have NOTPS? No / Yes

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? Heterosexual /  Heteroflexible  / Bisexual / Pansexual  /  Homoflexible  /  Homosexual / Demisexual /  Sapiosexual /  ( Grey ) Asexual / Still trying to figure it out.

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? Heteroromantic  /  Heteroflexible  / Biromantic /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   /  Panromantic /  Demiromantic /  Sapioromantic  / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out.

Are you comfortable writing smut? No  /  Selectively /  Yes

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? Autoship / During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions  / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent /  Never  

Are you open to toxic ships? No / Selectively  / Yes /  I am not sure

Are you open to problematic ships? No /  Selectively /  Yes /  I am not sure.

Are you open to polyshipping? No /  Selectively  / Yes /  I am not sure.

Are you an exclusive shipper? Never /  Sometimes  / Yes

Does crack shipping ever happen? Nope   /  Yes

tagged by: @lunaendowment​

tagging: @nympheu​ @kuunai​ @foxcharmed​ @sanguiresse​ @voracites​ @cnpluria​ (or whatever blog you fancy tbh ) @courageousguardian​ @lightshielded​ and whoever else, steal it i dare you.

[curiouscompanions]

Repost, don’t reblog!

Name/ Alias: Esfer

Are you over 18? Yes / no Is your muse(s) over 18?  Yes / No /  Most of them. When was your blog established? January 2014, used to be super active despite shitty English back then, and yeah was going by the name @therevisor   – W R I T I N G  –

Are you selective about who you write with? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Are you selective about who you follow? No (anyone) /  Semi (most people) /  Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? Not at all  / A little / Some / Mostly /  Strictly / Not Applicable.

What post lengths do you write? One-Liners  / Single-Para / Multi-Para /  Novella (sometimes I dare) / All of the aforementioned.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? No  /  Gifs / Icons /  Yes / Drawing icons sometimes.

Do you write on other platforms? No  /  Yes ( Chatzy, Discord is not that often )

What level of plots do you write? Unplotted /  Open-Ended Plots  /  Semi-Plotted /  Fully Plotted Epics  / All of the aforementioned

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? Slowepoke / Very Slow (more than a month)  / Slow (3-4 weeks)  / Average (1-2 weeks)  / Fast (less than one week)  /  Very Fast (less than three days) /  It depends

What types of themes do you like? Adventure / Romance / Fluff / Angst / Smut / Violence /  Tragedy / Domestic /Family /  All of the aforementioned

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! ) Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror /  Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Adventure /  Detective / Noir / Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers) No  / Yes /  Sometimes

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

No, not in a real way. Though I should admit tumblr has tons of crap I’d like to unsee 

– S H I P P I N G –

What types of relationships are you open to? Romantic /  Platonic  /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic /  Familial / Acquaintances / All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs? No /  Chemistry Only / Yes

Do you have NOTPS? No / Yes

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? (Neil) Heterosexual /  Heteroflexible  / Bisexual / Pansexual /  Homoflexible  / Homosexual / Demisexual /  Sapiosexual /  ( Grey ) Asexual / 

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? (Neil) Heteroromantic /  Heteroflexible  / Biromantic /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   / Panromantic / Dummyromantic /  Demiromantic /  Sapioromantic  / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out /

Are you comfortable writing smut? No  / Selectively / Yes

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? Autoship / During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent /  Never  

Are you open to toxic ships? No / Selectively  / Yes /  I am not sure / It depends

Are you open to problematic ships? No /  Selectively / Yes /  I am not sure

Are you open to polyshipping? No /  Selectively  / Yes / I am not sure

Are you an exclusive shipper? Never / Sometimes  / Yes

Does crack shipping ever happen? Nope /  Yes

tagged by:  @thegrimdarknarrator and @morniing-frost

tagging: anyone who would like to join this run Blank vers under cut!

Repost, don’t reblog!

Name/ Alias: Are you over 18? Yes / no Is your muse(s) over 18?  Yes / No /  Most of them. When was your blog established?

– W R I T I N G  –

Are you selective about who you write with? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Are you selective about who you follow? No (anyone) /  Semi (most people) /  Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? Not at all  / A little / Some / Mostly /  Strictly / Not Applicable.

What post lengths do you write? One-Liners  / Single-Para / Multi-Para /  Novella / All of the aforementioned.

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? No  /  Gifs / Icons /  Yes / Sometimes.

Do you write on other platforms? No  /  Yes ( Discord )

What level of plots do you write? Unplotted /  Open-Ended Plots  /  Semi-Plotted /  Fully Plotted Epics / All of the aforementioned

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? Very Slow (more than a month)  / Slow (3-4 weeks)  / Average (1-2 weeks)  / Fast (less than one week)  /  Very Fast (less than three days) /  It depends

What types of themes do you like? Adventure / Romance / Fluff / Angst / Smut / Violence /  Tragedy / Domestic /Family

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! ) High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror /  Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Adventure /  Espionage / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers) No  / Yes /  Sometimes

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged?

– S H I P P I N G –

What types of relationships are you open to? Romantic /  Platonic  /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic /  Familial / All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs? No /  Chemistry Only / Yes

Do you have NOTPS? No / Yes

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? Heterosexual /  Heteroflexible  / Bisexual / Pansexual /  Homoflexible  / Homosexual / Demisexual /  Sapiosexual /  ( Grey ) Asexual / Still trying to figure it out /

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? Heteroromantic /  Heteroflexible  / Biromantic /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   / Panromantic /  Demiromantic /  Sapioromantic  / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out /

Are you comfortable writing smut? No  / Selectively / Yes

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? Autoship / During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent /  Never  

Are you open to toxic ships? No / Selectively  / Yes /  I am not sure

Are you open to problematic ships? No /  Selectively / Yes /  I am not sure

Are you open to polyshipping? No /  Selectively  / Yes / I am not sure

Are you an exclusive shipper? Never / Sometimes  / Yes

Does crack shipping ever happen? Nope /  Yes

tagged by:

tagging:

[shymaidxn]

Name / Alias:  kaitlyn / a lot of variations of kaitlyn 

Are you over 18?  Yes  /  No Is your muse over 18?  Yes /  No ( verse-dependent )

When was your blog established? august 27th ( also diantha’s bday hc here~ ) some odd years ago.............i wanna say 2017

WRITING

Are you selective about who you write with? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people - mutuals preferred) / Private (mutuals only)

Are you selective about who you follow? No (anyone)  /  Semi (most people) /  Yes (some people)  /  Highly (few people)

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? Not at all  / A little  / Some  / Mostly / Strictly /  Not Applicable

What post lengths do you write? One-Liners  / Single-Para /  Multi-Para  /  Novella / All of the aforementioned ( see my oc blog for novella examples because wow fggfxfgxhgf )

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? No  /  Gifs  /  Icons  /  Yes  /  Sometimes ( depends if my partner does or not )

Do you write on other platforms? No  /  Yes ( disc is the only other place i do, and it’s pretty occasional. used to do twit rp, but now i kinda hate it for past reasons )

What level of plots do you write? Unplotted  /  Open-Ended Plots  /  Semi-Plotted  /  Fully Plotted Epics /  All of the aforementioned 

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? Very Slow (more than a month) / Slow (3-4 weeks)  / Average (1-2 weeks)  /  Fast (less than one week)  /  Very Fast (less than three days) /  It depends ( see my oc blog again for examples of me replying to things over a year old fgsgxcghkf )

What types of themes do you like? Adventure / Romance /  Fluff /  Angst  / Smut  /  Violence /  Tragedy  /  Domestic  /  Family

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? ( Feel free to add! ) High Fantasy /  Supernatural / Science Fiction /  Historical  /  Horror  /  Comedy  / Romantic  /  Drama  / Action / Adventure  /  Espionage  / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? (Not triggers) No  /  Yes  /  Sometimes ( the usual no-go’s )

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged? -

SHIPPING

What types of relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic  /  Familial  /  All of the aforementioned

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? Romantic  /  Platonic  /  Familial  /  All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs? No /  Chemistry Only  /  Yes

Do you have NOTPS? No / Yes

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? Heterosexual  /  Heteroflexible  /  Bisexual  /  Pansexual  /  Homoflexible  /  Homosexual /  Demisexual /  Sapiosexual  /  ( Grey ) Asexual  /  Still trying to figure it out.

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? Heteroromantic  /  Heteroflexible  /  Biromantic  /  Homoflexible  /  Homoromantic   /  Panromantic  /  Demiromantic /  Sapioromantic  / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out.

Are you comfortable writing smut? No  /  Selectively /  Yes ( selectively is SUPER DUPER ITALICS because i’ve only ever talked about it with one friend about a different rp blog ship soooo;;; probably limited to just hcs and dm talks )

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? Autoship  / During plotting  /  After a couple IC interactions  /  Several IC interactions  /  Slow burn  /  Plot dependent  /  Never  

Are you open to toxic ships? No  /  Selectively  /  Yes /  I am not sure

Are you open to problematic ships? No  /  Selectively /  Yes ( i don’t quite think i know the difference between these two??? so i’m just very unsure on these two ) 

Are you open to polyshipping? No  /  Selectively  /  Yes  /  I am not sure.

Are you an exclusive shipper? Never /  Sometimes  /  Yes ( i’m still multiship, but diantha’s selective in that she’ll be shipped with just one of each character. gran and djeeta count as separate entities in this, though diantha already has a gran so )

Does crack shipping ever happen? No   /  Yes ( please throw one at me i dare you )

TAGGING!

tagged by : kind of stolen from @hjaltemod ~ tagging : viewers like you! thank you! 

[the-electric-navigator]

BASICS. NAME: Danielle ALIAS(ES)/HANDLE(S): Stocking / Rena ARE YOU 18 OR OLDER? yes / no IS YOUR MUSE?  yes / no [ A.I Age ] WHEN WAS YOUR BLOG ESTABLISHED? ( Prev blog ) 2018, ( Revamp blog ) 2019

WRITING.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? no (anyone) / semi (most people) / yes (some people) / highly (few people) / private (mutuals only).  ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG? no (anyone) / semi (most people)  / yes (some people) / highly (few people) / private (mutuals only). IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH TO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? not at all / a little  / some / mostly / strictly [There isn’t much canon information on her, so I kind of have to wing it for the most part.] WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? ‘one liners’ / single-para / multi-para / novella DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS? no / yes DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS? no / yes WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE? unplotted / open-ended plots (set up a meeting and see what happens) / semi-plotted (one or two steps ahead) / fully plotted epics (plotted beginning, middle, and end). HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? very slow (more than a month) / slow (3-4 weeks) / average (1-2 weeks) / fast (less than one week) / very fast (less than three days) / it depends. WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? fluff / angst / smut / violence / tragedy / domestic / family / conversational / I don’t rp smut but everything else is free game. WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? high fantasy / supernatural / science fiction / historical / horror / comedy / romantic / drama / action / adventure / espionage / apocalyptic. [I’m willing to try pretty much anything] ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? no / yes  DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? no / yes [shrug emoji. its kind of a grey area i guess.]

SHIPPING.

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? romantic / platonic / familial (canon) / familial (ocs) WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? romantic / platonic / familial (canon) / familial (ocs) DO YOU HAVE OTPS? no / yes DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? no / yes. (my only NOTPs are like, incest/pedo ships tho) WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? heterosexual / heteroflexible / bisexual / pansexual / homoflexible / homosexual / demisexual  / asexual WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? heteroromantic / heteroflexible / biromantic / homoflexible / homoromantic / panromantic / demiromantic / aromantic. ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? no / selectively / yes. (Smut is a sensitive type of thing for me so, if we smut it’ll take some actual talking beforehand. ) HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? autoship / during plotting / after a couple ic interactions / several ic interactions in / slow burn / never (not open to romantic ships) / it depends ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? no / selectively / yes. ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (incest, canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) no / yes. ( dare even ask me on the incest/pedo shit and I’ll block)

ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING? no / selectively / yes DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? no / yes

Tagged by: Dio  Tagging: whoever wants this

[movealley]

Traditions and customs of India

Perhaps India is the most exotic of all Asian countries: only here you can see such a variegated multicolor of colors and hear such a wide range of sounds. Only here you can contemplate a cow walking importantly along a city street next to a Mercedes and a pedicab; and no one has the right to drive her away, but can only carefully go around. And only in India, everyone boldly enters the muddy, dirty waters of the Ganges, relying on his divine powers, and take a bath. Nowhere else will you hear such unearthly vocals pouring in a continuous iridescent stream and you will not see such gutta-perky dancers wriggling so that they seem to have no bones. It is in this densely populated country that the insane luxury of some is combined with the terrible poverty of others. And the local chastity of lovers needs to be learned by jaded Europeans, who have completely forgotten about such concepts, as the immaculate purity and sublimity of love feelings and accustomed to do without spiritual and heartfelt preludes in their relationships. The population here is divided into numerous castes, each of which has its own customs, so there are a lot of them among the Indian people.

The cult of the sacred animal

The tradition of deifying animals has its roots in ancient times, but is still held sacred in the country; although violation in the form of insulting a cult animal is no longer punished as severely as before, when a person who cursed a symbol of holiness was sacrificed to him. But the law is still harsh on those who dare to carelessly treat one or another representative of the four-legged: for this they face expulsion from the country.

Each state has its own animal cult, and in order not to get into an unpleasant situation, you need to find out who is sacred in a given area, and try to be as respectful as possible to the sacred object. The main cult in the country is the cow, which can lie quietly on the highway until she gets tired of it herself.

Indian cow on the beach.

It is not allowed to enter the temples in leather shoes and wear leather jewelry. In honor of the sacred animals, special celebrations and wide festivals of Taipusam are organized, in which the entire population, regardless of castes and estates, takes part. The main goal of such actions is to show the victory of good over evil, when Indians, driven to ecstasy, even pierce their arm or leg as a sign of their readiness to sacrifice themselves to the totem deity.

 Indian dances

Probably, there are few Indians among those who do not know how to dance at all, because according to established customs, dances are taught almost from infancy.

Failure to dance is considered bad form, and the one who succeeds in this business is praised to the skies: a talented dancer enjoys universal love and respect. Because each dance is not just graceful movements, but a certain composition that contains a clear idea, meaning, understandable to sophisticated spectators. The more expressively this is conveyed by the dancers, the higher the assessment of their skill, the virtuosity of which causes a storm of enthusiastic cries from the audience.

Greetings and gestures

Frontview of indian traditional wedding ritual

They even have the usual handshake, accepted everywhere when they meet, has its own characteristics: it is considered indecent to greet a stranger and women. It is also unacceptable to hug and kiss, meeting and saying goodbye even to well-known people – the most acceptable at such moments is “namaste” – arms folded at chest level or palm raised up.

In order not to get into an awkward position, you need to know the interpretation of common gestures: you cannot publicly snap your fingers, wink at women, clap your hands, as this will be regarded as an insult or an unpleasant hint.

The word “toilet” in the meaning of a place where one can make natural departures should be replaced with the strange phrase “number one” when there is a need to find out the location of this object. They are especially demanding on sign language in the provinces: the conservative residents of which strictly monitor the behavior of visitors.

Ritual ceremonies

Until now, the main method of burial is considered to be the burning of the body of the deceased, followed by scattering the ashes over the Ganges, and in distant villages, the requirement for the self-immolation of the widow on the funeral pyre of her husband is still in force. According to the Hindus, this helps the spouses to rise spiritually and go to heaven.

All the Indian family women hold spices on their palms

The ritual of taking food only with the right hand is strictly observed, regardless of whether it is eaten with hands or devices: you can only hold a fork or spoon in your right hand. The left is considered by the Hindus to be dirty, because it is used to wash after using the toilet: it is not customary for them to use toilet paper, as in other Asian countries with a hot climate.

The most important bright, colorful and solemn ritual holiday in India is a wedding, for which they prepare for a very long time, adhering to all the canons developed by the centuries-old ancient and more modern traditions of the local population.

Perhaps, the wedding ceremony is equated in importance only to birth, because marriages here are concluded once, without implying divorces either in this life, or in the next seven, which is interpreted by the Vedic beliefs of the inhabitants of India, therefore with such responsibility and breadth they approach here to holding a wedding ceremony, sparing no effort or money.

The main requirement for the bride on the eve of the wedding is her chastity. A girl must be a virgin, according to the ancient Vedic interpretation of the union of a man and a woman, according to which the bride is the “field”, and the groom is the “sower” and the only owner of it, and only he is allowed to throw seeds on this field.

In cases where a man marries a woman who lost her virginity before marriage, their family is subjected to all kinds of humiliation, and their children become outcasts. The same attitude is experienced by a woman who remarried or living with a man in an unofficial marriage.

The choice of a future wife and husband is the most important stage in the life of Indians, therefore special horoscopes are drawn up for lovers, according to which a conclusion is made about their physiological and psychological compatibility; it is predicted how successful and happy their union will be. The ceremony of betrothal of newlyweds is usually performed at the Sacred Sacrificial Fire by a brahmana – a family priest.

A few days before the wedding ceremony, the engagement-tilak takes place, performed in the groom’s house by the bride’s father and his male relatives, thus emphasizing the important role of a real man, which is the future son-in-law. A potential father-in-law adorns his forehead with a special sign – a symbol of consent to accept this man into his family, a brahmana conducts a ceremony of worshiping the Gods, all visiting relatives put a tilaka sign on the groom’s forehead and give gifts.

A fun ceremony – a sangeet (a kind of bachelorette party) takes place in the bride’s house, in which mainly women of both clans participate. They sit down at the festive table with a variety of delicious treats, and then dance, sing songs and vyingly wish happiness and joy in the upcoming family life. Also, in the bride’s house, a sugahin is held – a ritual of reciting prayers to glorify women who have passed away before their husbands and are revered as saints. All those present wish their future wife to also become a “sugahin”, whose husband is alive and well.

The day before the wedding ceremony, a khaldi ritual is performed, which consists in applying turmeric paste to the hands, feet and face of the newlyweds, which, according to the Hindus, gives a festive glow to the skin.

Before the start of the celebration, the rooms of the bride and groom are decorated with a special swastika – a symbol of their future happiness, success and prosperity: “swast” means “good”. The bride is taught that the husband is like a deity for whom she will live and serve faithfully after the wedding.

The sacrificial ritual at the Sacrificial Fire reinforces the girl’s consent to consider her future husband the highest deity. And the man after that is sure that it was she who was sent to him by God and accepts his wife as a precious gift.

Previously, the groom usually came to his betrothed on a richly decorated elephant, now – in a motorcade. He is met by his mother-in-law, bowing and putting tilak on his son-in-law’s forehead – a talisman against evil forces. Having met in a luxurious tent, the young exchange garlands of flowers as a sign of love and fidelity.

Contrary to European traditions, all wedding expenses are borne by the bride’s family, so it is not easy for parents who have several daughters. Traditional wedding gowns alone, which require 16 must-have pieces of jewelry, cost a lot of money, not to mention everything else. But the age-old rituals for the inhabitants of this amazing country are more expensive than money; as the famous hero of the Soviet film masterpiece said: “The East is a delicate matter.”

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[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #48

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Why it sucks to be a snake in space by EboniObsydian for polarspaz Words: 31,825 (8/?) Author’s Summary: It had been a month since the transformations, since the ill trip through an electrical storm transformed the humans into creatures of myth - Shiro became a dragon, Hunk became a troll, Lance became a centaur, Keith became a naga, and Pidge became a gorgon - and there were still things and quirks to get used to. Even so, the castle floors were still cold and slick and Lance still slipped on them when he was unawares. Shiro still scared the heebeegeebeez out of everyone with smoke occasionally emitting from his nose and mouth and his icy touch, Pidge still didn’t dare remove her blindfold around anyone and Hunk still lurked indoors during light hours when planetside. Between him and Shiro though, no one knew whose hoard was bigger. Alternatively titled “Myths in a Space Castle" — Inspired by @polarspaz’s Snakes & Horses AU where Keith is a Naga and Lance is a Centaur. Not strictly adhereing to the AU since Shiro is a chuvash dragon instead of a vampire and Pidge uses female pronouns. Updates sporadically.now you can find me on tumblr! @bucketoffudgeinamuffin My Comments: This is such a FUN fic. It reminds me of a survival fic where characters have to deal with a new and crazy situation and learn how to survive and find food and build a fire and all that. The mythical creatures the paladins turn into are all very fun and interesting and fitting, and the way they have to adapt is so well thought-out and fascinating to read. I’m really enjoying this, and I’m really looking forward to more. This one sucked me in, for sure. The Keith and Lance friendship is especially good, but no one is neglected.

When You Are Alone by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 26,355 Author’s Summary: 5 times Shiro and Ryou disagreed. Updates every other day. My Comments: Part of an excellent, wonderful series in which “Kuron” is redeemed by Team Voltron and stays on as Shiro’s twin, Ryou. This entry is a great exploration of both characters learning to adapt to the changes and exploring their own personalities. Humor, angst, comfort, deep conversations, everything I like in fanfic is there. It’s so good.

humility by bobtheacorn Words: 1,446 Author’s Summary: “Before I turn this on,” Pidge begins, “I’d like to just go on the record and say that Hunk is hands down the best member of this team.” “Seconded,” Lance says without hesitation.Pidge continues, “And his tireless contributions to the emotional well being of his fellow paladins is commendable and beyond reproach. If I had a medal, I would give it to you, Hunk. As a matter of fact, I’m making you one first thing tomorrow.” “Stop, you guys,” Hunk says, and whether he’s feigning being emotional or it’s genuine is hard to say. He’s fanning a hand in front of his face, blinking at the ceiling. His voice is a little choked, “Man, I said I wouldn’t cry.” Keith is sitting beside him on the couch with his arms crossed, bewildered by the formalities. //Keith doesn’t know anything about video games. Outrage ensues. My Comments: This is so cute and funny and adorable. Love these kids hanging out and having fun.

CUPS by SerenePhenix Words: 4,385 Author’s Summary: Coran was willing to sacrifice far more than just his wellbeing for the sake of these young people in his care. Anything to ensure that they could win this war. Anything to ensure they did not have to worry about something like making an alliance. My Comments: When you find a good hurt!Coran fic, you gotta hold on to it, because it’s rare and precious like a jewel. This is great, though of course Coran is kind of an idiot for not just telling someone. But of course he has to be strong. For all the kids. Sigh.

Exploration by luoup (ravenic) Words: 1,573 Author’s Summary: Day 4 Prompt 2: Exploration Shiro & Lance&Hunk: going somewhere new and interesting and fun My Comments: What a great trio! It’s so nice to see them hanging out and chilling and enjoying a cool area. Fun, relaxing read.

in the places where it is soft and quiet by kingwise Words: 2,807 Author’s Summary: Pidge found this rose quartz room one day while exploring what would be her new home. She didn’t quite want to call it that though. Home was rumbling laughter, round glasses, and the smell of frozen peas heating in the microwave. And now, the only thing she had left were the glasses. (When she wore them, it felt like back when she played dress up with Matt. They were a burning memory she clung stubbornly to.) or, where pidge feels terribly sad and misses her family, and lance tries to help in the end (takes place pre-s4) My Comments: Love Lance being such a sweetheart with sad Pidge. Always good to have more of those two.

Sugar Cookies by Gootbuttheichou Words: 2,538 Author’s Summary: Lance is more than thrilled to be attending the Galaxy Garrison in order to become the world’s best pilot; however, he didn’t expect there would be so much studying to do. Luckily, his roommate Hunk is happy to study with him, and happy to bake treats when his friend is gloomy from studying. My Comments: Aw, sweet boys. Hunk is such a good friend. I want them to be roommates in canon so bad, but for now at least I have fics.

Fever Can Wait by oldmythologies Words: 2,138 Author’s Summary: Prompt fill: “Hey there! Can I request a sickfic where Shiro gets a fever so high he starts babbling and gets disoriented. Maybe he gets a cold bath before it gets worse? :O” from crazy-indigo-child on tumblr. My Comments: Really sweet sickfic with delirious Shiro and gentle Keith. Hits the spot.

Fireworks by AmnesiaticRoses Words: 7,397 Author’s Summary: Voltron is treated to a victory party – a planet-wide one. But not all of the locals are celebrating, and are instead looking to exploit the party as the paladins let their guards down. Written from prompts provided from Grimkohai, technically using the one for the third week of October – “Festival” – but if I don’t get this out of my hands I’m going to tweak it into a mess. My Comments: This is an EXCELLENT fic, and the fact that my comment is the only one is an absolute travesty. The action, characterization, and worldbuilding are all fantastic. It feels like an adventure in a place you’ve never been but would like to visit someday. The paladins are all smart and competent, but special spotlight on Lance for being smart and brave while concussed and captured. It’s so good, you guys. Read this fic. Comment. It deserves more love.

as the lion loves the lamb by Demenior Words: 3,986 Author’s Summary: The Lions are powerful, ancient machines that have existed for eons. To be chosen by them is an honor only few have, for they pick only the greatest of heroes to serve them. But to serve a Lion is a life sentence. And a Paladins life is always a short one. The Lions are hungry. My Comments: Seriously horrifying take on what the lions are and what they want. This creeped me out, and it’s pretty rare for words on a page to do that. Excellent stuff.

Cold As Ice (With No Sign Of Life) by PastelClark Words: 1,826 Author’s Summary: It is a dark, terrible thing that only crawls to the surface, like frost over metal, when she is alone. When she feels her paladin go with one of her siblings somewhere far away enough that her hold over the bond fuzzes and fades out, flat-lining into the barest of sensations, and she is left with only herself. And she must be broken, she decides, to feel this way—because she is a leg, meant to be stable and secure and strong, as she has known from the beginning of her creation. Legs do not get paranoid, or frightened, or…or lonely. But she does. When her paladin leaves, the cold sets in. And the cold, it is nothing but lonely. My Comments: Angsty little Blue POV on losing Lance. It hurts.

Chamomile Tea by SerenePhenix Words: 3,937 Author’s Summary: Deciding what’s best for oneself is never easy and just a long process of trial and error. OR: Pidge fucked up and Shiro’s there to help. My Comments: Part of a series, a modern AU where the paladins are roommates and take care of each other. So here’s Shiro taking care of Pidge. Lovely.

Light of the Galaxy by thekingoftrash Words: 5,308 Author’s Summary: Sometimes, it’s the aftermath of freeing a planet that gets you. OR Shiro’s hurt, Hunk’s helpful, and Lance and Keith argue over the proper grammar usage of quiznak. My Comments: Hurt Shiro, supportive team, what else can you ask for?

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This by tymedfire for mssstilinski Words: 3,172 Author’s Summary: Lance gets Earth music again. My Comments: Cute fic with the team appreciating dancer!Lance.

Nose Knows by sedna_mode Words: 1,861 Author’s Summary: Following a one-off comment from Hunk about how good his sense of smell is, the team devise a challenge to test him. The only thing is they… forgot to involve Hunk himself. Good thing he’s always up for a challenge, and Hunk is good.And he knows it. My Comments: Absolutely perfect fic based on a preview from one of the comics. I love this view of Hunk and the team.

Made of Stardust by itsthevoid Words: 3,819 Author’s Summary: Altea was destroyed long ago, and since then, Allura hasn’t had a planet to call her home, not even Earth. This doesn’t mean that she’s homeless. My Comments: Really lovely futurefic in which all of Team Voltron gets to go home, even if it isn’t what they expected. I loved the conclusion.

Spring Gifts by wingedflower Words: 3,535 Author’s Summary: Lance is always homesick, but some days are harder than others. Especially this day, when he would give anything in the universe to be back on Earth with his family. For the time being, his space family will have to do. But maybe it’s not so bad after all. My Comments: I adore the way everyone was so supportive of Lance once they realized he was having a rough time, emotionally. They treated his sadness like a wound, something that deserved to be acknowledged and cared for, and they were all willing to drop everything to do it. Just lovely.

Siren’s Curse by Internal_Screaming Words: 2,051 (½) Author’s Summary: Galra are slowly taking over the kingdom, only a few villages stand against the empire, and even those are disappearing quickly.Pidge remembers the day they took her family, and every day since, she had tried to find a way to get to them. Then her answer comes, as she finds Shiro during a storm. She believes this may be her chance to get on land and find her lost family.Galra are a specific race on earth, mermaids and sirens are different species and believed to be myths. Pirates roam the seas and are known to either give no shits about the war against the Galra or have chosen a side. Usually the side being that of the Galra. My Comments: Really cute fantasy AU with mermaids, sirens, humans, and pirates. Fun read, and I’m looking forward to more.

Survivor’s Guilt by Agapostemon Words: 8,281 Author’s Summary: “What were you doing at my house in pajamas this morning?” Shiro groans.“Oh, uh…” Matt stammers, “Y-your boss called me? You didn’t show up to work, and she was worried. And then I got worried, because… your texts last night were a little scary to begin with, but then you didn’t show up to work? Anyways, I drove over to check on you, and your door was unlocked, so…” he gestures vaguely. My Comments: Modern AU in which Matt supports Shiro through PTSD, depression, and a suicide attempt. It’s pretty dark, but with a hopeful ending. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

stillness by bobtheacorn Words: 3,088 Author’s Summary: “You’re all too young to really understand the nuances of Pac man,” Shiro says, trying to get a rise out of them, though it backfires.“Vintage is cool, Shiro.” “Yeah, old things are in! Why do you think we have so much respect for you?” “Oohoho! Pidge!!” //Coran finds something interesting on the scanners and takes everyone on a detour for some well-deserved rest and reflection. My Comments: It’s so nice to see the Voltron crew just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Fun, relaxing read.

Lost in Translation by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 22,178 Author’s Summary: “Keith shook his head, not knowing how to communicate that he didn’t understand him. Kolivan’s face turned to stone.” My Comments: Keith accidentally goes to an alternate universe and runs into a BoM where no one understands him, and when they do, they don’t believe him. It’s brutal, especially if you’ve read the other fics in this story where Kolivan and Antok are father figures to Keith. Very intense read, I couldn’t stop once I started.

Kiss From a Rose by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 14,176 Author’s Summary: 5 times Shiro got kisses from the team, and one time he returned them My Comments: Absolutely adorable fic, notwithstanding some pain and suffering along the way. All of the platonic kisses were incredibly sweet and cute, and the ending was ridiculously satisfying.

Casting Shadows by BlackFriar Words: 74,777 Author’s Summary: An encounter with an ancient creature leaves Keith a child and Shiro reliving the past. While searching for a way to get their red paladin back, the team uncover a connection between a savage race of aliens and one of the universe’s oldest mysteries…and learn the past is never truly behind anyone. My Comments: This is an absolutely home run of a fic. Intense and horrific at times, but a thrill ride. It weaves together past and present in a great way. This is not a cute, fluffy deaged fic, though. Young Keith is terrified, for good reason, and that never really goes away, though the ending is perfectly satisfying. There’s also a lot about past child abuse that gets really awful at times, and the enemies in this fic are particularly disgusting (think the Reavers from Firefly/Serenity). Warnings aside, though, this is a fantastic fic. Plot, characterization, and worldbuilding are all spot-on. I really enjoyed it.

Muzzled by Emls479 Words: 5,181 Author’s Summary: The blade of Marmora aren’t the only ones with time altering technology. Days on the outside can be months within. Keith finds this out a little too late. My Comments: Holy crap, poor Keith. This was brutal, most especially because from his perspective, he was abandoned by his team, even while they were doing everything they could to rescue him. The comfort at the end was very good, but oh man, Keith goes through some awful stuff in this one.

If It Helps You Breathe by LynnLarsh Words: 5,632 Author’s Summary: A bad night with alien liquor puts Lance in a headspace he’s spent years trying to get out of. It’s a downward spiral that he eventually realizes he needs help dealing with.Trigger warning for self harm. The tags are important on this one. Please tread carefully. My Comments: Warning for self harm, so mind the tags. I really appreciate that Lance sought help on his own, eventually, because I know how hard that is. The hurt/comfort is good, and it’s realistic about how hard it is to deal with issues like this.

Grey by Skiewrites Words: 4,281 Author’s Summary: Grey is a secondary quintessence, made of Black and White quintessences. It represents the movement and manipulation of quintessence from one host to either another host or outside the host in an unnatural form. The most common use for Grey quintessence is during attacks in the form of lightning bolts. The physical representation of Grey quintessence is storm. Lance learns a lot from his family during his childhood, ranging from him being an alien and about the species that destroyed his home planet 10,000 years ago, to the legends of Voltron and the quintessence they use to protect the lion they’re currently hiding with.It’s a shame he never really said goodbye. My Comments: Really interesting twist on the concept of Altean Lance, with great worldbuilding and family interactions. I’d be interested to read more in this ‘verse.

Honest Work by juniperallura Words: 1,365 Author’s Summary: Based on my random HC that Shiro likes to garden because it’s peaceful and dear god someone give that man some rest My Comments: A relaxing little fic with Shiro getting some satisfaction from working with his hands.

cutthroat by buttered_onions Words: 1,363 Author’s Summary: Lance volunteers.(A Voltron/Hunger Games AU.) My Comments: Another amazing AU from buttered_onions, though Hunger Games scenarios always make me sick. There’s going to be more, but this is already brilliant.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Shadows of Stars (33466 words) Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans (37525 words)

[benderoftime]

ROLEPLAY PREFERENCE SHEET.

please repost, do not reblog!  feel free to add to any of your answers!  the purpose is to tell your partners about the way you write! for the multiple choice ones, bold all that apply and, if you want, italicize if it’s a conditional answer

BASICS. NAME:  Lee

ALIAS(ES)/HANDLE(S):  Satan, How Dare You, etc. ARE YOU OVER 18?  yes / no IS YOUR MUSE?  yes / no

WHEN WAS YOUR BLOG ESTABLISHED?  2016, activity has been off and no.

WRITING.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? no (anyone) / semi (most people) / yes (some people) / highly (few people) / private (mutuals only) ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG? no (anyone) / semi (most people) / yes (some people) / highly (few people) / private (mutuals only) IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH TO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? not at all  / a little  / some / mostly / strictly / they’re a oc. (i have a couple on here) WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? ‘one liners’ / single-para / multi-para / novella DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS?

no / gifs / icons / yes

DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS? no / yes (Skype)

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE?

unplotted / open-ended plots (set up a meeting and see what happens) / semi-plotted (one or two steps ahead) / fully plotted epics (plotted beginning, middle, and end) HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? very slow (more than a month) / slow (3-4 weeks) / average (1-2 weeks) / fast (less than one week) / very fast (less than three days) / it depends WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) fluff / angst / smut / violence / tragedy / domestic / family / conversational WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) high fantasy / supernatural / science fiction / historical / horror / comedy / romantic / drama / action / adventure / espionage / apocalyptic ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? (not triggers) no / yes (child abuse, rape, improper BDSM practices) DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? no / yes (suicide, self harm)

SHIPPING. WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? romantic / platonic / familial (canon) / familial (ocs, if plotted out) WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? romantic (exes????) / platonic / familial (canon) / familial (ocs) DO YOU HAVE OTPS? no / chemistry only / yes (Alex/Kate, Alex/Shane, Alex/JP) DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? no / yes (Alex/George Washington, Alex/Thomas Jefferson, Alex/James Madison, Alex/Any authority figure)

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? heterosexual / heteroflexible / bisexual / pansexual / homoflexible / homosexual /demisexual / sapiosexual / asexual WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? heteroromantic / heteroflexible / biromantic / homoflexible / homoromantic / panromantic/demiromantic / sapioromantic / aromantic ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? no / selectively / yes HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? autoship / during plotting / after a couple ic interactions / several ic interactions in/slow burn/never (not open to romantic ships) ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? no / selectively (would have to be heavily plotted) / yes ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (incest, canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) No / selectively / yes ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING? no / selectively / yes ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? no / sometimes / yes DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? no / yes

TAGGED BY: @blondehairbluesweater TAGGING: @russkiyuragan, @counselorbennet, @katesgotabow

[thecorteztwins]

ROLEPLAY PREFERENCES SHEET!

PLEASE REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG!  Feel free to add to any of your answers!  The purpose is to tell your partners about the way you write!  For the multiple choice ones, BOLD all that apply and, if you want, italicize if it’s a conditional answer!

– B A S I C S –

NAME:  90smun ARE YOU OVER 18?  YES / No IS YOUR MUSE?  Yes / No / Verse Dependent WHEN WAS YOUR BLOG ESTABLISHED? March 2015

– W R I T I N G –

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / YES (SOME PEOPLE) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only)

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU FOLLOW ON THIS BLOG? No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / YES (SOME PEOPLE) / Highly (few people)

IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH TO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? Not at all / A little / Some / Mostly / Strictly / NA

WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? One Liners / Single-Para / MULTI-PARA / NOVELLA

DO YOU USE ICONS AND/OR GIFS? No / Gifs / Icons / Gificons

DO YOU WRITE ON OTHER PLATFORMS? No / YES

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE? Unplotted / OPEN-ENDED PLOTS (set up a meeting and see what happens) / SEMI-PLOTTED (ONE OR TWO STEPS AHEAD) / Fully Plotted Epics (plotted beginning, middle, and end)

HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? VERY SLOW (MORE THAN A MONTH) / Slow (3-4 Weeks) / Average (1-2 Weeks) / Fast (Less Than One Week) / Very Fast (Less Than Three Days)

WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fluff / Angst / Smut / Action  / Tragedy /Domestic / Family / Conversational / Hurt-Comfort Just...general, I guess? Like interacting in whatever way makes most sense for the characters and seeing what happens

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama/ Action / Adventure / Espionage

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? (not triggers) No / Yes There’s a lot of common tropes that I find sexist or otherwise problematic. I understand this is just fiction for fun, I’m not trying to police what anyone else does or implying they believe in the messages that I get from these tropes (ex: if you just love a villain enough, you can redeem them!) but for me personally, I don’t like to write it, since what I enjoy about the fantasy aspect of RP is that I get to escape the tropes I dislike in mainstream media. I also am uncomfy with writing with muses who come from or are inspired by Christianity. This includes angels, Biblical characters, and Christian demons. I specify Christian demons because there are a great many demons in a great many works that have nothing to do with Christianity (Buffy, Marvel, and any number of Japanese anime, for instance) I am alright talking about it, like I was just recently talking with another mun about one of my muses being an angel in her own guardian angel verse for her muse, but I do not want to actually write these things in RP. I was raised Christian and it just feels weird to me, despite being an atheist now. I am just fine with figures from most other pantheons, however.

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? No / Yes It’s not a trigger, actually, I don’t have panic attacks or anything, I’d just prefer to be able to block it on my dash---incest, rape, and animal death/animal cruelty. I don’t need any fancy/specific tags for it, just tag it with something relevant or tell me your custom tag, and I’ll block it myself.

– S H I P P I N G –

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial (CANON)  / Familial (OCS)

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial (CANON) / Familial (OCS)

DO YOU HAVE OTPS? No / chemistry only / Yes

DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? No / Yes Anne Marie and Magneto would be major NOPE NOPE NOPESVILLE for me. I realize that the “fanatically loyal female follower who is in love with the bad guy leader” is a super common trope in fiction (which is why it comes to my mind immediately for this question), but that’s NOT the case here. She sees him as a divine/religious figure, and her devotion is not sexual/romantic at all, it is purely about her desire to save mutantkind and the world from suffering, and her belief he will do that. Any kind of non-platonic dynamic between them would be dubcon (as she would not feel she could say no), inherently exploitative, AND SOMETHING SHE DOES NOT WANT. Besides the fact that’s NOT something I want to play, it’s not something I could ever see Magneto doing anyway.

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? Heterosexual (Fabian and Delgado) / Heteroflexible / Bisexual (Anne Marie, strong female preference)/ Homoflexible / Homosexual/ Pansexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Ambiguous (Chrome)

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible/ Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic They all match their sexual orientation

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? No / Selectively / Yes

HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? Autoship / During Plotting / After A Couple IC Interactions / Several IC Interactions In / Slow Burn / Never {not open to romantic ships}

ARE YOU OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? No / SELECTIVELY / Yes / Never Tried It Anything with Fabian is going to be toxic tbh

ARE YOU OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) No / SELECTIVELY / Yes *points to Fabian again* Darkshipping and the like is really not something I want or plan to do, but if something were to develop organically I might go with it. It really depends.

ARE YOU OPEN TO POLYSHIPPING? No / Selectively / Yes Anne Marie is fine with that. Chrome...has no opposition to it at all, but he doesn’t even want to deal with one person most of the time, let alone more than one. Delgado might agree to try it for a partner, but I’m not sure how comfy he’d really be with it. Fabian...Fabian wants a harem, as we all know, but of course how dare the girls not be totally all his :P Honestly, ships are super duper hard for this bunch, because they are devoted to the cause above all else. They are not just punch clock villains who see this simply as a job and can have a normal life outside it. It doesn’t work like that. Their relationships with people who are not Acolytes/Brotherhood/otherwise aligned with their cause are mostly going to be shallow, fleeting things, or tragically cut short/star-crossed. They simply cannot and will not be romantically involved, or often even friends with, someone who is not “one of them”. They do not ship with civilians/unaligned. They DEFINITELY do not ship with X-Men, Avengers, and other “heroes”. The exception to this is in AUs where they’re not Acolytes, so if you really want to ship (I’m not much of a shipper myself, but I’m open to discussing it) then an AU is your best bet.

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? No / Sometimes / Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No / Yes

– T A G G I N G! –

tagged by: @apprcnticesuprcmc tagging:  @avalanchiing, @wildtsukai, @welookoutforourown, @magnetician, @magnet-dad, @callmewiccan @kimikomasuda, @apocalyptus-secundus, @msgold63, @vulpanthropic, @monaluxsrpblog

[dorunasch]

for the meme! 20, 1, 2, 12, 13, 14!

1. typical “you” fic”

hmmmmm i’ve written the most past-life tomo fics haha. but also i’m really into canon expansion; fics that explore characters’ mindsets, relationships, feelings based and expanding on canon. 

2. trope you really want to try your hand at

i feel like at this point i’ve done most of the tropes i like... maybe an actual period piece au that... isn’t a total nonsense american revolution au that i wrote as a dare/joke/because i could

12. an episode that inspires you above all others

i’m assuming this means like, an episode of the show in my fandom but yeah, the WDC semifinals in zxl between yuma and shark; HEALING DOOL; the start of the legendary numbers arc with durbe and mach; nasch’s whole backstory. it’s not one episode, i can’t pick one sorry (though i’ve probably watched wdc and durbe arc eps the most)

13. best writing advice you’ve come across

tbh i’m not a fan of writing advice. there’s no one bit of advice that’s universally applicable, and things like “don’t use adverbs” or [insert grammar rule here] or the like i find too... textbook. writing is a creative medium and i don’t think rules should be strictly adhered to (unless you’re writing academically or in another formal capacity)

i think, however, that blogs or columns that offer advice on how to describe/write characters i don’t identify with (poc, physically disabled, etc) are very helpful blogs for their input, but i see them more as research resources than advice blogs so ymmv

14. worst writing advice you’ve come across

like above, pretty much anything that gives you rules on what you “can/can’t/shouldn’t” write. i don’t mean things like “cis people shouldn’t write about a trans person’s experience,” which i think is a valid thing to say, but like “don’t use adverbs or start a story off this way” advice immediately makes me back click because if something works for a person’s story, they shouldn’t be beholden to any rules with such rigidity

20. describe your perfect writing conditions

70 degree day, not too humid, windows open with gentle rain falling, snacks at hand, no headache or backache or general life stress

[olaluwe]

Sunday Akin Dare, Nigeria's current minister of youths and sports Leading to the 2015 presidential election, the change agenda of president Muhammadu Buhari's campaign encompassed security, economy and employment. And you can say it again that the thematic tripod was more than apt because where there is no security there can be economic development not to talk of employment. However, how much of it was achieved at the end of four years is still an ongoing debate (perhaps it has ended because we've had another election) of which it would be difficult if not impossible to draw a conclusion. But if you ask me, the signs out there have been that of job losses that job gains, especially in the formal sector, which in fairness to the government is not exclusive to it. The trend has been incrementally noticeable from close to a decade and half if not more prior to the ascension to power of the Buhari's administration. Which is why in 2019, not surprisingly, the focus of the president's campaign is still very much about security, economy and employment with a next-level spice. This is equally on point, after all, the war on insurgency has not been completely won. The economy is still ailing and there are not enough jobs to go round the employable mass of the people who are mostly youths. Going with the next level agenda, the president has charged the ministers during their inauguration to do everything within their powers to lift 100 million Nigerians out of poverty in the next four years. Though, that for me is like attempting to soar above mount Everest on an Daedalus and Icarus's flying contraption; but with a total commitment to re-purposing the system for such an ambitious mission, impossible is nothing. It must be emphasized again that at the heart of job creation are the teeming youths whose passion encompasses fundamentally sports and entertainment; and lately SMSE's and leadership which makes setting a developmental agenda for the ministry of youths and sports under Mr Sunday Akin Dare very paramount. And I'm speaking strictly in terms of exploring the potentials in sports to drive national economic growth towards significantly impacting on the 100 million Nigerians the president is eyeing for a glorious leap above poverty. It is, however, not in dispute today that sports in Nigeria has tragically been narrowed to the level of just a handful of them namely football, and may be basketball and athletics. The rest are just making up the number. Sports generally; and especially football, have also been reduced to a pawn in the political chessboard of political actors. And successive ministers of sports have defiantly and myopically acted like they were ministers of football. It must be admitted that Nigerians love football but it should not be at the detriment of other sports that are yearning for the same attention for the catalytic roles they could play in helping to reduce unemployment and poverty in the country. Whereas sports are not just tools for social cohesion, outlets for easing of tension and the laundering of floundering political image of countries and political actors from example of what is obtained in both the western and eastern societies. Sports are a billion if not trillion dollars business through which stable employment is provided for the citizens of those countries where it has been gotten right. They are also routes to fame and unimaginable fortune for the participants. Therefore, I think if there is a ministry of the government that is in dire need of unbundling, it is the youths and sports ministry. Its unbundling is necessary because clearly there is a problem of poor funding which I don't think is about to disappear any time soon because the country is currently facing cash crunch as result of over-dependence on oil for revenue generation. For this reason, many of the sports associations have not been active. You can say they are dead literally. As a proof, I'm aware that the nation's male basketball team, D'tigers who are currently in Beijing, China for the world basketball championship took loan to facilitate their participation. What other proof do we need that things are no longer at ease with our sports. But if the way to go is that of Nigeria Basketball Association (NBA), why not the country through an act the national assembly makes the various sports associations semi-autonomous for optimal performance. That's if the governments at all levels still want to have a say in the administration of sports in the country. And no one can begrudge them that right. It is both legit and moral. If not, then, they should let go. And they should only concern themselves with international representations of any of the national sports teams. I'm not saying the sports associations should be handed over to the incompetent indigenous capitalist hawks who have always managed to masquerade as foreign investors, bought over some of our unprofitably run national assets only to prove incapable of delivering when it matters the most. To achieve the unbundling, a retreat for stakeholders should be conveyed where modalities are exhaustively discussed. If this is not done and urgently too, the private sector which drives the visibly stunning outputs of Europe and America which we all are obsessed with week in weed out on the digital TV channels would forever be reluctant to come in and commit their hard-earned funds. To them, accountability is a general rule just like profitability. The non-adherence to this is what was responsible for the disbandment of privately owned football clubs like Abiola Babes, Leventis United, and Nwuayanwu Nationale of those days. The owners of the above named teams, which include the late business mogul and politician Chief MKO Abiola did reminded the then Nigeria Football Association (NFA) that the game is neither charity nor an outlet for discharging the Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) of their various business interests to the society; but a business from which returns must be declare annually. And that's exactly what it is overseas. The way it is, for example in football where over eighty percent of the teams participating in the nation's top flight league belong to the governments at different levels is an unacceptable aberration. Because of their sheer numbers, to compromise the process is quite easy. And this they do by interfering in the processes and procedures of electing who becomes what at the management level nationally. It also makes it difficult if not impossible to mete out commensurate punishments to officials, supporters, and players when they erred. Even when this is done, it hardly serves as sufficient deterrent because before long the same anomalies still rear their ugly heads. It is a common knowledge that some states in the country bankroll the financial outlays of the engagements of the national football team, the Super Eagles. This is because the Nigeria Football Federation (NFF) has proven times and again that it is financially incapacitated to discharged its mandate. Yet the swan song in the political circles, even as we speak, is that "government has no business being in business." In the worst case scenarios, public-private partnership is the thing. And it is not as if we're short of models within the Geo-political expression called Nigeria. Lagos is sure one. It has consistently being building sports infrastructures all over since 1999; whereas, it doesn't own one sport club which is in line with the vision of its fourth republic pioneering governor, Bola Ahmed Tinubu. The idea is to provide individuals as well as corporate bodies with interest in sports with standard sporting facilities on a continuous basis. Yet others have dabbled into it headlong to soothe either popular opinion or a temporary penchant to play the sports loving governor or whatever it is the elected capacity knowing fully well they are not ethically equipped to operate as required hence the repeated news of unpaid salaries and wages of players; and all manners of brinkmanship. And as such when the players protest, they're cowed and sometimes brutalized with state's instruments of forceful cohesion like the police who discharge canons of tear gas on them. It is by force for political entities to own sports club if not that they want to use them for ill-digested political purposes. Contrary to this, we all can recollect the accelerated manner the former Lagos State governor, Akinwunmi Ambode scaled up the facilities at the Agege Municipal stadium to meet CAF's standards for the use of MFM Football Club which is a privately owned club side in the CAF champions cup competition. The point I'm making with my advocacy here is that sports men and women should be allowed to earn their pay based on what they can bring to the table of the sports of their choice contractually and not the way it is currently in which sportsmen and women are treated like civil servants but without pension or gratuity. Without much ado, the minister of sport and youths development will be helping the president to achieve his vision of lifting 100 million Nigerians out of poverty if the idea of unbundling the sports industry is suggested to him. Like that, continuous nationwide sports circuits will be created and private sector funds will automatically streamed in. This will create a win-win situations for all the stakeholders along the value chain of sports industry in Nigeria. The youths will be engaged professionally in sports and that will go a long way in minimizing youths restiveness as a result of idleness. Administrators too will learn to stick to the management ethics of their respective sports. The governments on their parts will then concentrate on consolidating on existing sports infrastructures in the country where it is their duty to build and maintain them. As it is, the officials of the various sports associations are elevated above the principal actors themselves by default because at the end of the it is all about service and retiring, no more no less which ought not to be so. I've no doubt in my mind that sports can be re-purposed if we so desire and we should as catalyst for sustainable end to unemployment and poverty in Nigeria. And if that is done, definitely, the next level agenda of the Buhari's administration which prioritizes the lifting of 100 million Nigerians out of poverty would be well on course.