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#for those seeing this but wanting to make their own project
kopykunoichi · 17 hours
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Refresher for the people still confused about this...
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In a galaxy far, far away, EVERYONE has midichlorines in their blood. The Force resides in all living things. It binds the whole galaxy together. Midichlorines are what allow beings to commune with the Force. The more midichlorines you have, the more potential you have to RESPOND TO and WIELD the Force. But notice that Asajj couches her statement with the line that those with a higher m-count were "believed" to be more capable of wielding the Force. There's a correlation, but it's not necessarily the only factor (see Sabine Wren).
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This is the moment where the clones literally become stand-ins for the fans.
"What? If you can use the Force, you're a Jedi!"
No. If you can use the Force, you can use the Force. To use it as a Jedi uses it, you have to train as a Jedi. To use it as a Sith uses it, you have to train as a Sith. To use it like a Nightsister, you have to train as a Nightsister. Or you can get some rudimentary instruction and decide how you want to use it.
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Jango Fett didn't have a high m-count, so his clones didn't either. But Omega and the rest of the Batch were special cases. As Cut said, the Kaminoans create with a purpose. Their deviations were intentional. Hunters abilities have always suggested he had a higher m-count than the others. But Omega's ability to perceive things before they happen (her bad feelings are nearly always spot on) and her affinity with animals have always been hints that her m-count is a little higher.
(Will update with screen grabs when I get them)
At the end of the episode, Omega asks Ventress if she has a high m-count.
Ventress: *looking at her nails* From what I've seen...no.
Omega: Then why is the Empire after me?
Ventress: Believe it or not, I don't know everything. But seeing as how a high m-count would make you a target, consider yourself lucky.
Omega: But I'm already a target.
Wrecker: Don't worry about it, kid. We'll figure it out. C'mon, let's get some chow.
Omega: *sigh* Thanks for trying.
Once they're out of earshot...
Crosshair: You're lying.
Ventress: About which part?
Hunter: You tell us.
Ventress: If Omega did have that potential, she'd have to be trained. Which would mean leaving you behind.
Hunter: That's not happening.
Ventress: What you want is irrelevant. The fact is, the Empire is after her, and they won't stop. If I were you, I'd leave this place. You're not as safe as you think you are. Our business is done.
Crosshair: I still can't figure out which side you're on.
Ventress: My own.
Okay, so Ventress is clearly not telling the truth about the m-count, which we know, because we've already seen Omega's charts. I really don't understand why people keep taking Ventress at her word here. We know better, and so do Crosshair and Hunter. My guess is that she's trying to protect Omega because she knows firsthand what it's like to be taken from your family and trained as a young girl.
We know that when Omega was at Tantiss, she was receiving transfusions of blood with midichlorines the same as all the other clones (harvested from the dead Jedi they're undoubtedly holding in the vault). They were taking her blood samples, but Nala Se kept throwing them away because she knew Omega would retain the higher midichlorine levels and she didn't want Hemlock to know that. The Emperor needs a clone that will maintain a high m-count so he can eventually get himself a new body. We know he does get that body, but not for decades - presumably because a) he never gets Omega, and b) the Batch is gonna take the fight to them at Tantiss and blow up their entire supply of midichlorine donors. Think about it - they're still working on Project Necromancer in The Mandalorian (24 years after The Bad Batch), but their resources are severely limited. The Empire has been all but wiped out, the Emperor is hiding out on Exegol, Dr. Pershing is clearly no Hemlock since he keeps killing his test subjects, and Grogu seems to be the only m-count donor they can get their hands on. The Emperor's cloned body is also deteriorating rapidly in TRoS, which suggests that even 25 years after The Mandalorian, he STILL hasn't figured out the right formula for cloning himself (which is good news for Grogu and Omega).
Which brings us back to the question, "Is Omega Force sensitive?"
The answer is, "yes", she is sensitive to the Force due to her elevated m-count. We've seen this all along. Hunter most likely is, too, and maybe some of the other Bad Batchers, to varying degrees. Tech could riot race, which takes incredible reflexes. Hemlock said that Crosshair didn't have a high m-count, and we don't know where Wrecker's abilities stem from. Omega can't wield the Force because she is untrained, but the potential is there. A person's aptitude to wield the Force seems to be strongly correlated to their m-count, but we've seen others with low aptitude eventually open the door to the Force with years of training and a decent dose of impending doom (we see this clearly with Sabine in Ahsoka, but it was also a topic in Legends).
Omega being Force sensitive doesn't mean that she has to leave her brothers. She can choose to pursue her training or not. She'd also have to find someone willing to train her. I'm not convinced Ventress is looking to take on any apprentices at the moment, but she could possibly connect Omega to Quinlan Voss (imagine the trouble those two would get up to).
But I don't think Omega will choose that path. One, it would just make her a bigger target. Two, I don't see her prioritizing power over family. She's a clone, and clones are ALL about family. They're Mando coded, not Jedi coded. Screw the space Buddhist lifestyle - clones parade their attachments around like trophies. Omega goes around collecting attachments like most kids collect rocks..."Hello, stranger trying to kill me, let's be besties."
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butterrose07 · 3 days
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Simon Says (Simon Riley x Reader)
Warnings: 18+ readers only, sexual themes, foul language, male dominance themes, gender differences
Johnny can't help but to wonder how Simon has an obedient wife like you. Because deep down inside, he wants it, too. If only he is willing to learn the very same lessons Simon learned from Price.
oOo
"How?"
Simon doesn't react to his question. The rose-patterned teacup looks comically small in his hands as he takes a sip of his tea, and Johnny can't help but to lean forward. Above the tiers of cake and other goodies piled high on the table, the smoke from his friend's cigar blended into the oak decor of the room. It wasn't much of a question as much as it was an expression of incredulity.
Simon doesn't need to know what Johnny asks. Because he was there before years ago, his very own stare being consumed by Price's. His friend. His mentor. A man who had a position relative to his woman that he knew deep within his gut that he craved.
Stewing against all he knew and was taught about man and woman.
He was there years ago, and he knew Johnny would be him years after.
If he accepted what he taught, that is.
He shifted in his seat. "What's the difference between a man and a woman, Johnny, besides the cunt and cock?"
Immediately, Johnny snaps his head to the left, to the closed glass doors of the study to where you are in the front dining room, nestled against the windows knitting strawberry hats for your babies. Twins. Due in three months time, and you're ecstatic enough to decorate the pink dollhouse Simon built for you as a project. Simon knows Johnny is making sure you didn't overhear his crass question, ever the gentleman, no matter how rough he was around the edges. The discomfort he sees in his eyes mirrored his own years ago sitting in front of Price's desk, in front of a sated man who told his pretty little wife to fetch them her homemade bon-bons and show them off. He couldn't forget the pep in her step and the rustle of her dress out the door to the kitchen in her fluffy pink slippers. After all, he was hit with the same questions, the same lesson that he was bestowing upon Johnny now. It was hard to forget his own nervous swallow when she came back to proudly show off her chocolates, ever so oblivious of the chauvinistic language.
Johnny awkwardly rubbed at his neck. "Hey, man, pretty sure she can hear us through those glass doors."
Typical response.
"And, uh, there shouldn't be a difference." God, he was so naive. "We are all the same."
And that's why Johnny didn't have what he had, yet. And that's why he asked the how and not the why. He didn't get it, and he wouldn't get it until he understood that there was a difference.
A big difference.
A difference that should've been obvious enough to override the indoctrination genteel society fed to children. And people wondered why they were so confused, so discontent, their soul hanging limp inside their bodies, stripped of worth. Until he ripped the blindfolds off his eyes and understood the core essence of what it was to be a man, he wouldn't get the woman he dreamed about. Or if he even knew that was what he wanted, because Simon could tell that's what he wanted. He could tell Johnny wanted a doe-eyed wife who would rub at his chest after a long day of work. She would wear soft tea dresses and coo at their newborn in a bassinet Johnny would build using his own hands. She would have flowers in her hair and smell of fresh bread and honey. He knew Johnny would retire in a heartbeat and whisk her away to a quaint village to live in by the sea.
He knew all of it because he wanted those things himself. He knew it because he had it all.
The house. The life. And his little adoring wife who made all the tea cakes herself that they were indulging in.
"What?" Johnny had much to learn. "Why are you looking at me like that?" So much to learn, so much to shed of the indoctrination. "A-Am I wrong?"
And Simon would teach him, if not light the matches in his mind. He knew Johnny would resist, at first. Ever so the merry chap, all for being a "good guy", a friend, a champion for classic equality peppered with old-time chivalry. But he knew deep down that it wasn't working. It wasn't garnering a woman who would fulfill his primal role as a true man, man who felt profound joy at being a giver, a protector, a provider. He knew deep down his friend wanted an adoring wife anxiously waiting for him back home, watching out the window for his return so that his arms could lift her up for a loving kiss. He knew he wanted what he had.
He knew, just like how Price knew.
"Johnny, my boy, come take a seat."
And Johnny would know, too.
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bhaalsdeepbat · 21 hours
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Lae'zel is like a play on the "I'm not other girls" thing, except she's trying SO hard to be like other Gith girls. She's trying to steel her heart and be a perfect soldier in the collective army serving beneath Vlaakith. No will of her own. Just blind servitude alongside the other Gith who are also denying their own individualism.
Rather than gutting the companions right then and there - as any other Githyanki would do - she joins them AND promises them a cure. A cure that was meant to be ONLY for Githyanki warriors. And she doesn't know about the lies or the fact that he cure is a death sentence, but she still extends that olive branch to the group. She'll speak up when she's grouchy and try to project a hard exterior, but she's SO secretly soft.
When you approach Rosymorn, she'll stay on that part of the map if you try to leave. Upon returning, you can make her admit she missed you.
You can make the strong Gith who was raised to pillage, kill, and conquer admit that she missed the player character.
Lae'zel isn't like other Gith Girls.
Her act two scene is trying to progress the romance as though it were between two Gith raised within that culture. It's a fight to prove your worth through your battle prowess, which makes only the best *warriors* worthy of companionship. However, it becomes clear that isn't want Lae'zel wants. If the player loses, and Bae'zel beats the fuck out of them, she becomes distraught because she doesn't WANT to fight her romantic partner.
She wants to mutually protect one another. She wants companionship with her partner. She wants to enjoy the sunrise with them, feel the tickle of the night breeze, see the Tears of Selune chase after the moon across the night sky, she wants to live and she wants to share those experiences with her love. She doesn't WANT to be the stone cold Gith that she was raised to be.
Lae'zel wasn't given any role to do with the eggs, but once the egg is in the party's possession, she's instantly drawn to it. When Xan hatches, she gives him a name to represent that he'll be raised to be free to be himself. He'll have the freedom to choose his own path, whatever that maybe. Xan DOESN'T have to be like the other Gith. He could be a scholar, an artist, a warrior, anything he wishes to be. It's his life and Lae'zel is just happy to see her little Xan be raised with the freedom she didn't realize she craved until she arrived on that silly little planet.
Lae'zel isn't like other Gith girls because no two people are the same, even if raised in the same circumstances and culture. Everyone is an individual, even when they serve a collective or are fighting alongside Allies with the same main goal.
Lae'zel isn't just a nameless, faceless soldier. She isn't interchangeable with other Gith. She isn't like the other Gith girlies.
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ccycloneblogging · 2 days
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Now- I know you want Mommy to lay into Catnap for his... questionable choices-
But I feel like Angel would be the kind person to have a LOT to say at catnap- about how he treated Dogday, practically made everything worse around the factory at the hand of a madman, their obsession with returning to a world that probably didn't even exist in the first place causing them to make their friends live in what is no doubt hell-
Angel sees Mommy Long Legs about to bring all of what they've wanted to say Catnap when they weren't trapped inside of the murder building- and refuse to let the chance to speak their piece first and lets those words flow into one of the more intense, curse filled monologues you would see aimed at someone.
Good news, Mommy was stunned long enough to save catnap-
Bad news, Catnap has been utterly broken.
I think Angel would see that as a win tho-
Not sure if this is actually how your angel character would be- and may me projecting my own thoughts onto them- but I think it would be very hilarious and a good way for Catnap to have any lingering very dumb ideas get ripped out of his skull- by getting yelled at violently to the point he wishes he were dead!
Wonderful work on your story as always!
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You. You get it.
I do want Mommy to make petty jabs, to get under his skin, but that simply pisses him off. It would be Angel who can really twist that metaphorical knife.
...Well, that and DogDay. But really, I think DogDay wouldn't dare to say anything to CatNap about it. After all... He's so desperate for his old friend, he's willing to pretend nothing is wrong.
Meanwhile? Angel, I can absolutely see them being the type to lay into CatNap for all the shit he's done. Hell, my mental image for the Angel is that their first reaction is to punch whatever scares them - which doesn't work often. So, yeah. They absolutely wouldn't let that shit fly.
As for CatNap, that's easy enough.
He would feel like absolute shit just hearing all of it. But the worst thing? He knows DogDay's ripped torso isn't vanishing like a Toon's wounds should. To be met with smiles as bright as sunshine from the one he hurt most? He would absolutely start to beg for death instead.
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wibta for using characters that might be too similar to ex friends for my own writing/art?
background: i had a lot of friendships that ended very badly while i was in an extremely compromised state. for a lot of them it ended with them giving me a very vague wall of text about my behaviour without explicitly telling me what i did wrong, so i feel i cannot apologize in any meaningful way, and i cannot contact them first, so instead tried my best to cut myself down as small as possible so they would never see me again. this still confuses me, and ive entertained the thought they were 'too scared' to tell me what i did wrong beforehand, but if thats the case, i was too, but i was the only one wanting to work things out. that isn't the point of this, though.
with a lot of these people i did something like collaborative worldbuilding. some of these concepts, ocs and oc ships i was very very invested in while i was at rock bottom, sort of coping with them, though the interest never felt reciprocated despite my efforts to stoke it (neither was i told to stop, though). i wrote a lot for some of them, as certain characters had a lot of stylings of archetypes im very fond of and tend to write over and over again (partially cos they remind me a lot of myself, if i can project) regardless of their involvement.
with the rug pulled out from under my feet irt that i didnt really know what to do with my parts from all that (going from thinking about them almost once a day to having to stop myself from ever thinking of it again was. extremely hard) and even thought about trashing the characters i had. after months of deliberating and trying to refocus the characters to be single and building up casts of all my own characters, i ended up liking the chemistry between some of them and the old ocs i almost threw away and decided to work that angle. the more i focused on these new characters (which id created to be a vent pit for the feelings i was trying to sort out irt all this) the more they fit into those archetypes i love, but i tried to lead them away from the ex friends characters.
but i did give one character brain damage, while i was trying to figure out what mine had done to me. ive been coping with it and what it did to me through them, but i remembered one ex friend gave their character brain damage as well. it feels like a sort of stand out trait and im worried if they ever see my shit again they will look at this and the archetype and use this as evidence im trying to steal their character or something. im not sure what is too similar. fwiw when they cut people off before in this sort of situation i know they would make fun of and kill off the other person's characters, so i know they've probably done that to expies of mine (one person liked to joke about doing this to one of my happier characters while we were still talking). for my part all i did was axe theirs from the story entirely.
tldr: i accidentally created characters that have similarities to ex friends' to fill in the holes for characters i didn't want to throw out. if i keep them, will i be an asshole?
What are these acronyms?
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sleephyuns · 2 days
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The contents of her cup swirled around and around and around. A red-hued funnel of liquid, almost like a drain. It was fitting, since thats where Jeongyeon’s beautiful two-year relationship was headed to.
A week. That’s how long it had been since their argument.
Since then, Jihyo had been civilized with her, sure. But for anyone who knew them or how they functioned, this was far from normal.
Every day at home felt like a an office scenario, with Jihyo as her coworker. Taking turns in the kitchen, backs turned to each other with every task, tv time spent individually.
Even their long stretches of quiet silence lacked their familiar warmth.
And sleeping? Could she even call it that?
It’s not like she was barred from the bedroom. But the night she’d tried to climb back into bed with Jihyo, the guilt of seeing Jihyo’s back faced to her, the guilt of seeing the slight tension of muscles in her shoulders and knowing she’d been the cause of such stress, it threatened to swallow her whole.
At least sleeping on the couch meant she could manage a few hours of heavily disturbed sleep.
Maybe she was complaining too much, though. Losing sleep was a common occurrence, for a variety of reasons. And all couples had their disagreements, right? A week was far from the longest any two people had been on shaky ground.
Nayeon and Momo, for example.
They’d both had their ups and downs — many, many downs that they worked like hell to fix. But they were both made to handle such situations, and come out the other side of each trial stronger than before.
No matter what Jeongyeon said about their sickeningly sweet displays of affection, she really felt as though they were perfect for one another (as they were now).
With all that Jeongyeon knew about Nayeon in their years as friends, it wasn't a logical leap for her to put somebody like Momo with somebody like Nayeon. Not at first. But as she saw their relationship develop, fail, then reassemble itself over the years, she realized that a relationship could grow and change into something functional with time.
And time had served those two well. They were lucky to have each other.
Thinking about such things made her wonder: What did her own relationship look like from the outside? Had they changed in a similar way? Did her personality truly suit Jihyo’s?
Opposites attracted, didn’t they?
Jihyo was born for the city, despite where they grew up. She always longed for bigger and better things. You could say she had the air of a CEO in the heart of Seoul. The air of someone who chased after and got everything she could ever want. She was too hardworking to fail. Be it her projects, her career… or her relationships.
Jeongyeon, on the other hand, was — or at least had been before college — somewhat of an easygoing person in life. If Jihyo liked to take short breaks away from the fast-moving city into the quiet countryside, Jeongyeon preferred the opposite. It would be completely correct to call her wants in life “simple.” Go to college, get a good job, and make enough money to get a nice cozy house. Maybe retire somewhere close to the mountains.
But in her vision of a cozy house was Jihyo. And in the mountains, Jihyo was right by her side. In the air she’d breathe, in the creeks that wound around the rocks. She was there.
Jeongyeon loved her life on its own, but was irrevocably tied to Jihyo as well.
How many times had Jeongyeon stayed up late into the night with Jihyo, just to watch her for a few seconds more? And how many times had Jeongyeon let her gut feelings take the back seat for Jihyo’s sake? The answer to both questions was ‘too many for Jeongyeon to count.’
Jihyo had done the same for her too, of course. She knew that to be true. For every late night came an early morning, when Jeongyeon was plagued by anxieties for the day ahead.
Sweet words, a hug, a kiss. A few extra minutes in bed spent between the two of them, to keep her at ease. And on days where Jihyo just couldn’t push her luck with lateness, she found ways to be there all the same. A note on the fridge, a text, a quick call. Whatever she could do.
These things always balanced themselves out. The push and pull of their lives just worked that way. But things lately have felt a little…
“One sided?”
“Huh?” Part of Jeongyeon, the part that could still function properly, tore itself herself away from her thoughts, remembering that she unfortunately had to be a functioning human being at work.
“Should I print these one sided, or is it ok to use both? Or does it not matter at all?” Yubin asked, holding out the pet profiles for Jeongyeon to see.
Yubin was new to the job, having only worked there a few weeks, but was older than Jeongyeon by a few years. She had this air of coolness about her no matter what she did, even when she asked questions every few minutes.
“One sided but…,” Jeongyeon fumbled with the bottom button of her flannel, “uh- actually I think I want to take my break soon. Maybe now if I can.”
It was the one day of the week she was on front desk duty, when their usual clerk was out. So as long as someone else was manning the front to check clients in, she could take her break whenever help was available.
“Oh, your break?” Yubin walked up to the counter, prepared to take Jeongyeon’s place, “In that case, I’ll make the copies when you come back.”
That same part of Jeongyeon — that wasn’t stuck in a haze of deep thought — replied again, “Thank you. I really appreciate it. Thank you.”
She’d fastened every button on her shirt now, hands free to toss out her used cup as she prepared for the windy day outside.
This type of weather just meant she had an excuse to get more tea from her usual spot.
It wasn’t too far from where she worked, only about a 10 minute walk from the shop. A brisk walk could cut it down to 7 minutes, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.
It was a stroll and cool down type of day.
She wanted to relax, that was the plan. But the moment she walked off the block, a gust of wind slammed both halves of her back into one being.
She stumbled just a bit, both physically and mentally, unsure of… everything.
What a weird sense of dejavu, to be tripping over herself on the sidewalk again, thinking about a situation she seemed to have no control over.
….What was she even doing?
One foot in front of the other.
Go get more tea. Don’t think about your home situation.
Right.
Walk. Tea. Don’t think about home.
She repeated it over and over until the chant became the backtrack for her short walk.
Walk. Tea. Don’t think about home.
Walk. Tea. Don’t think about home.
Walk. Tea. Don’t think about home.
Walk. Tea. Get tea because now you’re here.
Oh.
The smell as she entered was so soothing, so comforting, that her problems could melt away. Cafes were really her style, someone — who she wouldn’t currently think about — had once. remarked. Jeongyeon whole heartedly agreed, a testament to how well they knew each other.
Maybe being a cafe owner somewhere in the countryside was in her far future. If she were to live in the mountains, she could drive down to work, serving any campsite goers as they came and went. The signal would be better further down, perfect for phones and laptops, allowing someone to work if need be.
Maybe a desk set in the corner for her… a special spot close to the service counter, where they could work side by side until it was time for Jeongyeon to retreat back to her home or… for any unspecified customer to head back to the city…
That wouldn’t be for some time, obviously. So the current Jeongyeon — who definitely wasn’t worried about anything or anyone — would have to be satisfied with the pleasures of more tea and a peach scone. Hopefully they weren’t sold out.
Then again, anything could happen during midday, depending on the rush.
She approached the counter to check behind the display case. Far enough where the cashier won’t ask for her order, but close enough where anyone wandering behind her wouldn’t think to get in line and possibly steal her treat away. That would give her enough time to truly see-
"Hey, Jeongyeon? Jeongyeon!"
A voice sliced through the clatter of plates and the hum of brewing machines, carving a path right to Jeongyeon’s ears. The secondhand embarrassment she might’ve felt at being called to couldn’t even compare to the feeling of unease suddenly bubbling in her chest. Another worry to add to the day.
There were two peach scones left in the case, though, so that was some sort of win.
“Hey, Jeongyeon. Funny running into you here. A little chilly today, isn’t it?”
The voice was much closer now, which left no option to play the ignorance card. She could only assume in some alternate dimension, where she wasn’t such a stickler for wearing a beanie to work every day, she wouldn’t have been spotted so easily.
Oh how she wished she could be in said universe. Or, at the very least, the ground of this one would open up and eat her alive.
“Hi Sana,” she mumbled, not yet turning around. There was still time for the ground to its thing. Maybe. Hopefully.
"I’m sorry, did I scare you? I tried to call out to you a little farther back, but you must not have heard." Sana giggled as Jeongyeon stood up straight, trying her best to look unbothered by the situation. Well, if Sana thought she’d scared her, she must not be doing a good job…
"Uh, no," Jeongyeon cleared her throat, taking all of Sana in, “no. Not at all.”
She was dressed rather fashionably today. The platonic ideal of casual fashion, in Jeongyeon’s opinion. She wore a long muted-brown coat, opened just enough that the gray and yellow plaid of her pants could be seen. It worked, somehow, but she assumed Sana knew that. No need to state the obvious.
When she’d finished staring way too hard at her black heeled boots, her eyes trailed back up to see Sana watching her, either amused by her staring or waiting for her to continue speaking. Maybe both. Probably both.
“I just, um, wasn’t expecting to see you around here.” But then again, she wasn’t expecting to see Sana at all. She simply knew her as someone who materialized on campus, in her apartment and sometimes in her thoughts. It was odd seeing her so far out of the imaginary boundaries she’d set in her head.
“I see, that’s fair,” Sana spoke more with her eyes than with her lips, “So… what are you getting?”
“Oh uh…
Jeongyeon released a quivering, awkward breath, stepping back to put more distance between them. Sana watched the movement, something mischievous sparkling behind her eyes as she did.
“I want to get a peach scone and vanilla lavender tea. Do you um… need a recommendation? I really think the lavender is good and… maybe the strawberry cake-“
“Oooh that sounds good! I come here a lot though, I was just curious!”
Sana moved on from that statement as if she didn’t just leave Jeongyeon dumbfounded.
She came here a lot? When? It had to be whenever Jeongyeon was off work, because she couldn’t remember seeing Sana once. Now she was wracking her brain for any sliver of a memory that might have involved Sana, as if she would suddenly develop a photographic memory and pick Sana out like a hidden picture puzzle.
“Hi there! Can I get a vanilla lavender tea, one of the bottled barley teas from the fridge there and…”
Jeongyeon’s neck nearly snapped as she looked to see Sana, placing her order before she even had a chance to. What the hell was her problem?
Sana turned to eye the glass case, then Jeongyeon right next to it. There was that twinkle in her eye again, as her lips slowly curled into a smile.
“-…Two peach scones please.”
Jeongyeon wondered if the cashier could hear her heart crash land into her stomach.
“That’ll be ₩30,000. For here or to go?”
“For here,” Sana nodded at the cashier, slipping her card into the reader. All while Jeongyeon stood there pathetically, mouth opening and closing like a fish. She couldn’t even call herself mad or annoyed. Just negative. Pure negativity.
Shouldn’t have mentioned the scone at all.
When Sana was done paying, she bounded over with her bottled tea and table number standee in hand.
What was she going to do now? Rub it in? Make sure Jeongyeon stayed until her food arrived? For what? So she could watch her savor the little bit of happiness Jeongyeon had left?
“Hey again!” Sana laughed, “Where did you want to-“
“Are you messing with me?”
“-sit…”
The words fell from Sana’s tongue, similar to every speck of Jeongyeon’s dignity falling to the floor. That’s where Sana’s gaze ended up, starting from the broken pieces and moving back up to Jeongyeon’s eyes, taking in her question just as much as she was taking in Sana’s.
“Did you… not want to sit with me? I admit, I didn’t ask you how long your break might be, but-“
“No I just didn’t think-“
Again. She was making a fool of herself again.
“No, no,” Sana tried to spare her, “Finish your thought.”
It was hard to finish a thought that wasn’t completed though. Many of her thoughts followed that trend, nowadays.
“I thought you… were just saying hi for a bit. I- I have the time to sit, but…”
But what was Sana’s goal? How could Sana not feel that uncomfortable nagging in the pit of her stomach, that would make her want to avoid Jeongyeon at all costs. Now she wanted to sit with her? Without Jihyo? That couldn’t be the case.
“The scones and the tea. That’s just for you, right?”
It was a stupid question that proved to be even stupider with the look on Sana’s face. Her one raised brow was enough.
“You think I got my own order along with your exact order, just so I could have it all for myself?”
“Uh, sorry,” Jeongyeon choked, “I guess I’m being silly.”
Sana nodded, actually nodded at that, but it was somewhat deserved. The awkward beats of silence that followed were deserved too.
Eight beats, in fact, which Jeongyeon only knew because of Sana’s hand. Eight times, she tapped her knuckles against her thigh before speaking again.
“What time do you have to get back?”
Jeongyeon’s flicked her wrist back, checking her watch. “I still have half an hour.”
The answer seemed satisfying enough for Sana, eyes lighting up again.
“Well let’s sit down before our food and drinks come.”
Jeongyeon let her lead the way, of course. They sat at a booth pressed tightly in the corner, right next to a window, giving them a view of cars and passerby. Being like this, Jeongyeon couldn’t help but think back on their first real meeting on that fateful rainy day.
It was hard to believe it hadn’t even been a month since then. With the stress of it all, a whole season could’ve passed by…
No, she couldn’t think about that. The passage of time would stress her out even more, and she was determined to relax in this cafe. Even with the stressor sitting across from her.
She looked up from the table at Sana, watching her fiddle with the standee, rocking it back and forth, tapping each end against the table. Her glossed lips, pulled tight as she hummed some unrecognizable tune to herself, sparkled in the sunlight. A good match for her eyes, her hair, her attitude. Everything about her sparkled. And in that moment she seemed so…
Harmless.
So absolutely harmless, and so far from the stressor Jeongyeon labeled her as.
As if she couldn’t feel any worse about this all.
Jeongyeon cleared away the guilt in her throat with a cough, gaining Sana’s attention in the process. “So… how’ve you been?”
A good question. A nice, normal question. Much better than talking about the rain, or a lack of it, and how that might affect their lives.
This time, thankfully, Sana heard her loud and clear.
“I’ve been alright. Just a little tired between classes and my dissertation,” Sana’s eyes slipped shut, a small furrow above her brow, “to make things worse, one of the street lights outside shines right into my bedroom window and… oh well.”
Jeongyeon watched Sana fidget with the cap of her tea now, unscrewing it, tapping it a few times against the table before taking a swig from the bottle. “It’s an easy fix. I keep telling myself to get blackout curtains, but I keep putting it off. There’s no reason to complain when the solution’s staring me right in the face.”
Jeongyeon hummed in acknowledgment, not agreement. No point in arguing against such a passive statement, so she just let it be. Though the topic sparked a thought within her brain.
“Are city lights not something you’re used to? Ah- well, I know you’ve been in this area for a bit, but you’re not from here, so…”
If the answer was yes, Jeongyeon could relate. Even after all these years, she still felt out of place.
Sana seemed to carefully consider the question, eyes wandering back outside to the passing cars, the busy people.
“It’s nice here. I wouldn’t exactly say I haven’t adjusted, but,” she spoke slowly, wistfully, “I do find myself missing home a lot these days.”
“Hmm… I get that.”
And truly, Jeongyeon did.
“Home is,” Sana’s eyes slipped shut for just a second, “comforting. My hometown, it’s not too far from the city. I can take the train there if I want. So I don’t exactly live in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it’s quiet, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s a bit of both.”
“And what about here? Is it too loud for you here?”
“Sometimes,” Sana laughed, “I guess I’ve said that a lot though.”
“Do you ever think about going back to Japan?” Jeongyeon quickly looked down at the table, pretending to be more interested with her cuticles than Sana’s face. Way to go, she thought. What a great way to sound like you’re trying to ship her off and away from Jihyo-
“Would you be surprised if my answer was still, ‘sometimes?’”
Now that was surprising. She looked up from her nails, and back at Sana’s face. This time, she met her eyes head on without shying away. Not that she wanted to when. Sana was being so honest with her. Honesty she didn’t think she truly deserved.
But maybe she wanted to be deserving.
“Um… well, with your past few answers, statistically,” Jeongyeon tapped the side of her head, pretending to be some mega-genius that she surely wasn’t, “I’d say no.”
That earned her a genuine laugh from Sana, a bit longer and louder than her polite laughter. A feeling bubbled up in her chest that she might label as ‘pride’ on any other occasion, but she wasn’t quite ready to confront that just yet.
She let Sana’s laughter fill the space between them, until they trickled off, twinkling away like the shifting rays of sun. “I’m happy here, for now. I have enough that makes staying worth it.”
Between both of Jeongyeon’s eyes, Sana’s gaze shifted. Left, right. Left. Right.
It made Jeongyeon’s stomach flip, with how direct she was with her staring. There was no way there her words lacked implication. She had to be referring to Jihyo, and oh god, she didn’t want to think about her too much when Sana was here or else she might worry again.
So instead, she let her own sight drift, looking out the window and away from the sun.
Out there, in the city streets, there was nothing to fantasize about. No random occurrence, no imaginary Nayeon to conjure up. Just everyday reality.
She heard Sana take in a breath. The temptation to shut her eyes hit hard.
“What about you?” Is it worth it?
“…huh?”
She could ignore the city for a moment if it meant understanding Sana better.
“Do you like it here?” Sana asked again when their eyes met, “You asked me, but I want to know how you feel about it.”
“Well…” Jeongyeon inched forward in her seat. She hadn’t been asked such a question in a long while. Not since her college years. By now, the city was a facet of her daily life. She knew this area like the back of her hand. It was a part of her, full of memories, both good and bad. And even if she were to move on to her perfect countryside, the city would still be with her, always.
Always in her heart.
“Well, I-“
“Table 11? 2 peach scones and a tea?”
She and Sana both jumped back and… when had Sana leaned in that close?
“Yes that’s us, thank you,” Sana spoke while Jeongyeon was still trying to process their proximity.
The sound of the plate scraping against the table stopped her thinking, and she looked down at the scone in front of her. Next came the cup of piping hot tea, placed right to its side. The steam rose, and Jeongyeon’s eyes followed, until she was staring right at Sana’s pleased face. Even as she chewed, she had a beautiful smile on her lips.
“Mmmmm….,” she moaned, “I see why you like this so much!” She went in for another enthusiastic bite, humming another tune Jeongyeon didn’t know. She could probably make any food look delicious with that attitude.
It sure worked on Jeongyeon, even though she already knew the beauty of the pastry. Was it possible, Jeongyeon wondered, to develop a fear of missing out on something you’d already had?
Jeongyeon finally took a bite of her scone, not as outwardly pleased as Sana, but still comfortably satisfied.
The glaze melted in her mouth.
Sana took another bite.
“I like this city,” Jeongyeon savored the peach flavor on her tongue, “I like it a lot.”
Sana loved the flavor too. “I’m glad you do.”
Going back to work soon would be a struggle, and going home would be double that. But for now, having a nice conversation in the corner of a cafe, things weren’t so bad.
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Text
Emotions suck, let’s drink instead
CW: alcohol and drug use (THC), Kid and reader suck at feels, Killer being the bestest (trying these characters for the first time!), mentions of not feeling comfortable as self or with own biological gender (fem) - kinda hints at being non-binary but no pronouns used at all.
WC: 5415
Nearly ten drinks in; it’s been a handful of hours at the bar and no one wants to go back yet. You are celebrating your first year with the crew and Heat insisted that you all go out to party since you docked yesterday to reset the log pose. Well, most everyone except Kid and Killer were there. You weren’t sure of their exact reasons but they said they were going to meet up with everyone later and just haven’t showed up yet. Probably enjoying the peace on the ship so Killer can organize the kitchen or sharpen his blades and Kid can work on his newest project in his workroom. You know there are times that they prefer to be alone and they most likely took advantage of the crew being gone.
Though, Kid has been acting weird lately, for at least a few months now. You asked Heat about it but he just shrugged and said he hadn’t noticed much of anything. Maybe you were just reading into things but it seemed like he was avoiding you most days. Unless you went into towns, visiting brothels with the guys and drinking too much, then when you got back in his gaze you would feel like he was burning holes through you. Still, he never said anything to you, just stared with his alluring albeit piercing eyes.
When you first joined the crew he seemed to treat you like everyone else, like one of the guys, which is how you liked it. You’ve never really felt like much of a stereotypical woman, regardless of what you had under your clothes. Being with the men just felt right, and being with women outside of physical relations just got difficult, as if you weren’t speaking the same language more than half the time, it made you recognize you hate being one of them. You felt mentally alien with your own gender. It hurt to spend more than a few hours with anyone not on the crew any more, since they all seemed to understand this about you and treat you the way you appreciated being treated.
You thought you had gotten closer to everyone, including the Captain and first mate, but clearly they didn’t care as much as you wanted them to. They should be here too, you wanted them here. It’s hard to not want to be around them, but especially when you feel the most like yourself. However, drink after drink you started feeling more like you shouldn’t be celebrating. You laughed with the crew but felt hollow inside. You shouldn’t desire the validation of those two this much but something was clawing at you on the inside of your skull, driving you to wish for their presence every moment that passed.
Hitting the 15th drink and barely being able to stand (seeing as you mixed hard liquor and beer all night) Heat sidles next to you at the bar and quietly asks if you’d like to go back and go to bed. You nod and he helps you stand, trying to appear as stable as possible while saying goodnight to everyone left over. Some decided to go back to the brothels about town since you were departing, and others went to stay at inns after the bar closed.
Walking back with Heat got you slurring your words about Kid to him, but he’s used to this from you. You had a tendency to focus on the captain, and ask Heat if he had any new info about what was going on. He always shrugs it off, no news to tell, but states you should just talk to him and ask yourself. Like you’d be able to do that after he makes you feel like you’re made of glass and he can see everything inside you and beyond. Even this intoxicated you wonder if you’d just make a complete ass of yourself trying to talk to him, though it would make it easier, you’d prefer to just slur your words at him and hope he doesn’t understand. At least you would get it out of your system and say you tried.
By the time you reach the Victoria Punk you feel a bit better on your own two feet. You thank Heat as he walks you up the gang plank but urge him to go enjoy the rest of the night; he does, after triple checking with you, leaving you to the cool night air on deck.
The stars are shining, no moon to speak of, and it’s cloudless with the slightest of breezes coming off the sea. You can taste the salt in the air; it’s quiet and tranquil, only insects and waves to be heard as the noises of the town are far from the docks. Before you realize it, you’re lying on your back, staring up at the night sky, just breathing in the harmonious evening.
Now that you’re home, and just slightly more sober than you were a bit ago, you pull a flask from your pocket and drink more. Time to encourage sleep to come; you’re certain no one will be back tonight anyway, so sleeping outside on the deck shouldn’t be a problem. Plus without the booze, your mind would just continue to race about everything and nothing. It never shuts off without help, it’s been like this since you can remember and thank the gods for drugs and booze because without them, you may not sleep until your body forces it.
With your eyes closed you take another swig of liquor from the flask and sigh.
“Hey.” Startled, you tilt your head up against the wood of the deck to see Killer standing near you, mask turned towards the rolling waves over the rails. You can only hum in response now, a bit too drunk for proper words. “Need help getting to your cabin?” You close your eyes and tried to speak, “ ‘mmkay ‘ere fo mow” Killer sighs, “clearly.”
“wewerer y’two?” you hiccup to him, “miss’dcha” He sits next to you, “Sorry.” You hum again and go back to listening to the nature around you. Without warning you feel your head being lifted up and gently put back down on something firm but soft. Looking up, you see Killer much closer now, torso right next to your face, “drink this, please.” He holds water in front of you, now lying against his lap, giving you better angle to drink from. You do as he says then lean back on him, cuddling up to his warmth instinctively after chugging a good portion of water from the canister.
“You should really go to bed, sleeping out here will get you sick in this state. Kid would be upset…” You jump in your skin when you hear Kid’s name and stare at Killer, stopping him mid-sentence with your reaction. “Regardless, we can’t have you getting ill from your own celebration.” He finishes.
“He rare’y s’eaks ta me…” you mutter and look away, towards Killer’s feet and across the deck. You lift your flask to take another shot but Killer stops you, “He will. In the meantime, let’s give up the flask and get you to bed, okay?” you just nod and attempt to sit up a bit, arms bent under you only able to lift you slightly from Killer until the deck is spinning, you close your eyes again and breathe deep. Killer picks you up and rubs your back as you curl comfortably into his chest, holding tight around his neck for stability; he walks you slowly to your cabin, leaving a bucket near your bed just in case you need it. Making sure you are on your side and comfortable, he tucks the blanket around you and pats your head gently. You fall fast asleep.
---
Forever the insomniac, you wake a few hours later, still kind of drunk, to the sounds of birds chirping and metal clanking. The world looks blurry but you manage to get up and go to the kitchen for coffee, maybe a little hair of the dog will help your morning. You find a pot already made, and Killer working on a small pile of breakfast. Clearly not enough for the crew, you bet most are still out in town sleeping off their evening escapades.
A cup in hand, you sit at the counter and take out your flask to empty the end of its contents into the dark liquid. “Really?” you hear Killer ask. You lightly shush him and bring the mixture to your lips, breathing in the aroma of your medicine and taking a long drink. “I need this for reasons.” You finally breathe out. “Sure. Do you want any food in your stomach or just alcohol and caffeine?” you look at him and shake your head with a sour face, “food doesn’t sound like a plan right now, but thank you.”
Slamming back the rest of your drink, you stand to clean your cup and leave when Kid walks in. You can feel his eyes on you but you dare not look at him, still unsure of how to be around him, or why he’s been acting the way he has. Maybe you did something to warrant the silence. Maybe you should just go drink in the shower and hide away until the crew comes back and you can mix in with the group. You clutch your flask in one hand and begin to fast walk to the door but it’s pulled from your grasp.
“Confiscated until further notice. Go take a shower and sober up.” Your captain says sternly, the flask flying into his hand as he sits down to eat. You turn abruptly and briefly look at him with a pout you couldn’t control. He had been looking at you until your eyes met, but he quickly turned his attention to his food and slid the container into his pocket. You let out a childish huff and made your way to do as your captain said.
 You’d be lying if you didn’t think about taking your stashed bottle of rum with you into the shower. Just because he had your flask doesn’t mean he has all the liquor locked up too, but you thought better of going against his word. The last thing you want is to make him any more upset than he probably already is. Without the alcohol though, your head is throbbing with anxious energy, you can’t stop thinking of your captain and what you may have done to make him basically ignore you all these months.
The last real interaction you recall was at a brothel; you had just finished with one of the courtesans and another patron who had flirted with you earlier in the evening at a bar down the road. You and the random guy were coming down the stairs, laughing about something stupid, and your captain was in the bar area when he spotted you coming towards him. You waved at the guy as he was leaving and hopped on a seat next to Kid.
“Did he pay to watch?” he snickered while taking a chug of his glass. “Nope, but I got him to pay for her services to the group, so free three-way!” you laughed and waved the bartender down for a mug. Kid coughed like he breathed in some of his drink, “I didn’t realize you…were into guys too.” He looked down at the bar. “Oh yeah, I’m pretty fluid for whoever. So long as I like the person, I don’t care what they’re packing.” A drink was sat in front of you and you promptly began chugging it like it was water.
Kid slams the rest of his drink back and proceeds to pay for you both before walking away. “Thanks! I’ll see you back on the ship in a bit!” you shout after him and he waves behind himself as his long strides take him out the door.
Now you were thinking back on it, maybe you shouldn’t have told him about the three-way? But what was wrong with that? You knew the crew was filled with raunchy stories like that all the time, it’s not like you were the first. You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you feel the water running cold. “Fuck.” You didn’t comprehend how long you were standing there, just lost in yourself.
---
By the evening the crew had come and gone again, knowing the ship was set to leave tomorrow; they had one more night in town to do whatever they wanted. Heat asked if you wanted to come to the brothel tonight and you said you would meet him there, just have to try to get your comfort flask back from the captain before you head out. He wished you a sincere good luck before catching up to Wire on the docks.
Kid had just finished delegating some instructions to a few final crew members who were tasked with watching the ship tonight when you eyed him across the deck. As they dispersed you meandered your way towards him, attempting to hide your awkwardness. You had hopes you wouldn’t even have to say anything and he would just toss it to you and let you go about your evening, but why would he make anything easy on you?
He watched as you neared him, “Need something?” he asked, patting his pocket where he had the flask. “I do…. A great need, actually, if you don’t mind.” Smiling back at him with a hand out, anticipating the ease you dreamed of. “Too damn bad for you. I’ll be joining tonight: this, and you, will remain with me.” Your mouth went agape at his words and it forced a taken-aback chuckle to emerge from your throat. “If you don’t like that, you can stay here and remain sober, with Killer.” Killer passes behind you and hears this, whispering, “Why am I being punished too?” Kid must have heard that because he flipped Killer off quickly before beginning to walk off the ship.
Clearly you wanted this to go another way and he knew that but your desire to be intoxicated was stronger than your fear of whatever has been going on with your captain lately so you tag along behind him, Killer also in tow. You both stay behind Kid as he walks toward the nearest brothel, “I told you he would say something to you.” Killer quietly says to you. “Yeah, but this was not on my list of conversation ideas…” you push out of the side of your mouth at him.
Once inside the brothel, the three of you sat at the bar, Killer on your right, and Kid on your left; sandwiched between the ones you desperately wanted around you last night. You had the bartender make you two drinks; slammed one and began lifting the other when Kid looked at you with side eye, “what you’ve never watched me at a bar before? Oh wait, I’m certain you have.” You torment as you turn on your stool to check out tonight’s line up of ladies.
Kid used his power on the metal rim of your stool to turn you back around, “If you want your flask back, at all, you’ll stay right by me tonight.” His eyes lock onto yours and you squirm in your seat.
“I’m not the only one who drinks a lot, you know, I don’t see why I’m being punished.” You frown and cross your arms in another childish display of irritation.
“I’m not punishing you for drinking, but I should for your attitude today, brat.” You both take a drink to settle the wave of tension. “I just thought we should celebrate with you tonight… since we didn’t join yesterday, and I took your flask to keep you from running off. And also so you wouldn’t drink in the shower again.”
You looked at him as he stared at his mug, “how do you know I do that sometimes?”
His face was turning pink, “I can sense the metal in the pile of clothes you take in there, it’s not like I’m watching you.”
“No, not watching, just taking notes.” You giggle then think to yourself about other things he could be using his power for. You are now very aware of your nipple piercings basically being on display under your clothes to him as your own face turns pink and you cover yourself with your left arm.
Killer nudges your right arm and just places his hands on the bar, holding his mug, indicating you should do the same; as if he could read your mind and shouldn’t make it more obvious what you were thinking.
 “Anyways!” you start, “Thanks for taking care of me last night, Killer.” He stiffens, “ I can only imagine how much worse off I would have been this morning if I had slept on deck, though those stars were sorely missed, and we could have cuddled a bit more; next time though” you wink at him and see his neck turn a bit red.
“Ah so you weren’t too drunk to remember.” He says. “And it wasn’t really cuddling.” Unsure why he was trying to clarify you lean on his shoulder for a moment, “than neither is this, I guess you’re just my shoulder to lean on.” A prompt pull from your left had you off Killer’s shoulder before you could make a cute face at him to tease him even more; however you were now leaning on the man that pulled you. Adjusting immediately back to sitting straight, you turn your attention back to your mug and chug your second drink, calling the bartender for more already.
“What, are you afraid of me or something?” Kid asks angrily, hand gripping his drink, reshaping the metal mug. Killer excuses himself quietly, brushing your shoulder with his hand; only a mild comfort seeing as your support is running away.
“No… but also… I don’t know.” You can’t look him in the eyes as you finally succumb to your fear of sharing these thoughts. “Maybe we could drink a bit more…” you trail off, proceeding with your feelings makes your mouth dry, every instinct is telling you to get belligerently intoxicated. You just want to turn everything off; your face is betraying you, grimacing at each lost syllable dying to spill from your guts.
Kid slams your flask onto the bar, finishes his drink in one gulp and gets up as well. “You come find me when you do know then; I’ll be in my workshop.” Your head drops to the bar, agony seeping from your pores. You turn your face to the door only to see his broad shoulders turning the corner and walking outside.
“I literally walked away for less than a minute, what happened?” Killer comes back and blocks your view of the empty doorway. “I just…. Can’t bring myself to talk about things, at least not unless I’m super fucked up.” You tilt your head back so your forehead is flat on the bar top, unable to look Killer in his mask right now. He pats your back, “you talk to Heat just fine, drunk and sober.” Hearing this makes you sit up right, “what did he tell you?” you glare, half looking around to see where that idiot was, as if you could see through the walls and locate his position.
“Nothing specific, but I’m also not as oblivious as you and Kid are.” Killer admits and lets out a big sigh. “If you need to drink more to get this over with, than do it; I’ll help you back to the ship.” You just stare at him for a second, taking that in. “If this is truly what we’re doing tonight, then it would be cheaper if we drank on deck… and I also know something extra that gets me to talk, but you can’t get pissy about it.” You hold your finger to his chest, praying he won’t confiscate the only other thing you hold dear. “I wasn’t the one who took your stuff to begin with.” If he ever laughed out loud now would be the moment you suspect he would.
----
Back on the deck of the Victoria Punk, you had your flask full and a little metal case in hand with it. “You wanna share with the group what you have?” Killer motions to your stashed items. A smirk grows on your face as you open the case and show him a couple rows of pre-rolled joints. “Ah, of course.” As you light one up and take a couple hits, you offer to Killer and he surprisingly accepts; being able to smoke through his mask was a fun thing to see as you began your crossfade.
“So, tell me about what you’ve noticed, as a third party observer. Since you aren’t as oblivious as some of us.” You send Killer a glance and a giggle as you continue to pass the joint back and forth.
“I won’t say everything, seeing as you both need to talk about things, but since you’re also both really bad at emotions…. I’ll hint you this; eye contact and honesty would be best from both of you if you can just buck up and bear it for like 5 minutes. I see you being able to get him to crack, if you just let go first.” He passes the joint and motions for you to finish it.
“If I can actually get the words out without vomiting with them, will it be worth it? Or will I find out something I don’t want to know?” you stare into the sea, hoping for the peace you felt the night before to overtake you again.
“It’s in everyone’s best interest if you at least try.” He rubs your back again and just like last night you feel more at ease, “Just know, he doesn’t invite anyone to disturb him in his workroom, but he angrily told you that is where to find him.”
Finishing your toke, you put out the embers and hide the roach back in the case, taking a big swig of rum from your flask and shaking out your nerves you prep yourself for what may come. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I gotta just grow a pair and get in there and… UGH. FINE! Emotions suck.”
----
Standing outside the workshop door has your stomach in knots. There’s a heavy feeling in the air, consuming your movements, keeping you from knocking, barely allowing you to breathe. Killer clears his throat down the hall, watching you stiff as a board and staring at the intimidating door, the noise jostles you from your trance slightly and you sigh deeply. One last shot from your flask for courage, keeping your crossfade mildly intact.
Knock, knock, knock…. You gently rap against the wood and metal. A stern and loud “What!?” pierces your ears and you see a crack appear, allowing you to come in with a simple nudge. You knew he must have sensed you, must have known who it was the whole time you traced the details of the door with your eyes, waiting for the muscles in your body to allow you to proceed and alert him you were ready to talk.
“Hi” you exhaled out as you slipped through the door and it closed behind you, now trapped in a room with the one person who made your whole body feel like jelly. Anticipation making your heart thud in your chest. Your mind is in overdrive as you watch him turn around and stand to face you completely. How do you start this, how will it end, what of this feeling in your gut, in your chest? How long has this tightness been growing in response to his presence? 
You are much more in tune with your emotions when drunk and/or high and right now, you were feeling something that was buried deep, deep, down before. A desire for your captain; his intimidating aura, the way his muscles dance when he moves even so slightly, the smell of metal that lingers in the air around him, and the sound of his heavy steps as he makes his way towards you. Everything he did was enticing. You may have lost grip of these feelings while he had avoided you, lacking his presence like this was like being in a sensory deprivation tank, floating in silence and nothingness, or maybe they are just now surfacing because you’ve never been in his personal space like this before. This room was meant for privacy; an intimate space that you were allowed to enter for a conversation just as sacred as the walls around you. You were being rapidly pulled from the sense deprived stupor you had yourself in for months and flung into an overwhelming situation.
He was inches from you now, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, trying hard to recall that Killer made it clear to speak honestly and keep eye contact. His beautiful, fierce, and captivating eyes; how could you look away now that he has you here, in his special hideaway, far from anything else that could interfere with what may occur. As if this room was the entire world.
“What?” He repeats himself in a quieter and softer tone, speaking directly to you but still demanding you release the words so anxiously cradled in your throat. You swallow what little saliva was being created in your mouth; you go to drink from your flask again when his hand covers the top of it, holding your motion still in front of your heaving chest.
“You need the booze just to talk to me? Just spit it out dammit!” a relentless tremble came over you, Kid’s words filling you with apprehension that would either shut you down or let the flood gates open. The latter became true when his muscles twitched, almost turning away from you until you finally began to speak.
“I do. I really fucking do need the booze. For so many reasons, but honestly right now, just to get these words out without throwing up from fear, not of you, but of myself. Of the emotions I feel. Of the fear I have that you aren’t even interested in being around me anymore. It’s been months since we have had this much interaction and I don’t know what I did to encourage this…. this…. abandonment I’ve felt from you. I see you constantly but I notice you turn away like you can’t even look at me. I started doing the same because I figured you hated me for something I did or said or…” every word came rushing from you, some slurring together and sounding like they were one, combined into strung sentences of panic that you may not be able to complete the thoughts swirling in your mind, you were just hoping to sound a bit coherent and convey how you need him. You need him to be what he was, at the very least; months ago when you felt he was more than your captain, like he was a friend.
As you tried to continue your quick rant, tears threatening to fall from your grimaced face, you were stopped by a force against your body. Your captain had you wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, muscles tight enough around you to feel comfort and safety rather than a need to struggle free and hide. You heard his breath caught in his throat like he was going to speak, just as nervous as you were moments ago, now in a gentle but firm embrace you decide to wrap your arms around him as well, allowing the same comfort to wash over his body, feeling your reciprocation.
“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry you’ve felt abandoned. I just… well I guess we’re much alike in the way we don’t handle emotions well, or at all. I told myself if I stopped trying to get close to you that I could move past what was dwelling in me, something I haven’t felt in a long time and never knew I would be able to feel again…” He stops and you feel his head rest against yours, arms dropping from around your shoulders to your waist. His flesh hand begins to slowly stroke up and down your spine, leaving you tingling at the light touch over your shirt.
“Every time we would dock and I would see you at the brothels, having a good time drinking and…. Doing whatever else… I had this pit open inside me. It was hard to not watch you, but when you would catch me I felt a burning that caused to me turn from your gaze. I didn’t want you see what I’m sure was written all over my face.” You stood stunned in his embrace and pulled back slightly to look at him again. Eye contact; now you needed it.
“Were you… jealous? I’ve been told I was oblivious but am I really that blind?” he dropped his forehead to yours, “I was. And I’m glad that you were.” He let out, eyes just far enough that you could see the need in them; a need for you, a need that you wanted to return. 
Bringing your arms to his chest, you caress his pecs, gliding one up further to his neck pressing and inviting him to come closer as you ready yourself to give in to desire. His body responds and you sense his metal arm lower to your thighs, easing you into a hold, lifted from the ground ever so gently. A more level playing field envelopes you both as your lips finally meet.
Gentle and hesitant for only a moment, the amount of time it took for your eyes to flutter shut. A mutual hunger overtook you both as an impatient tongue pushed its way to your own, you rolled yours against his and openly accepted the unyielding invasion. The hand you had on his neck slid into his hair, grabbing and twirling your fingers in the soft red locks, tormenting a groan from deep within him. The aggressive passion kept you locked to each other until your lungs forced you to inhale. His heartbeat was running wild under your touch, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
You were pressed against the door at this point; his hand moved to cup your face after parting for air, thumb brushing your cheek while strong fingers wrapped your jaw and graced your ear with a feather light tickle. His metal arm under you is barely holding you up now that your legs are wrapped around his hips, squeezing him between your thighs.
Leaning into his hand, you release a content sigh and smile. Your breathing has calmed and you only focus on the heat being exchanged between skin and clothes, and heart beats that are louder than any storm you’ve ever heard; as if at any second the thunderous roar will lull you to a sweet dream.
Your adrenaline from the moment begins to dissipate and the crossfade creeps back in, causing you to lower your feet to the floor for more stability. “You okay?” Still resting your face in his hand, eyes closed with a grin, you bring your own hand to his and nuzzle the warmth he emanated. “The okayest I’ve been in a long time.” You feel him kiss your forehead, “Yeah? You feeling tired?” you nod in response, “I don’t wanna but I think I should go to bed soon… best to sleep when I can since it often eludes me…”
Already drifting off, you hear him hum and soon you are being lifted through the hallway, cuddled against the broad chest of your captain. You hear a door open and close before being gently placed onto a bed. Something feels off as you finally open your eyes and realize you are not in your own bedroom. Kid takes off his boots and coat before taking off yours as well, covering you up under the blankets and crawling in next to you.
You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable as you curl up against Kid in his bed. This would be the best night of sleep, and first of many to come, that you’ve ever had.
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Hello!
I’m curious about your thoughts on protect 2025?
I completely understand seeing voting for the presidency as a joke. I live in a state where it doesn’t matter what I vote and the idea of either of those idiots being president again is a nightmare. Highkey hope they both croak this year.
But I am conflicted with the project 2025 stuff. Does this make it more important that we vote blue? Am I kidding myself in thinking that democrats being in power wouldn’t still allow the far right to do their bullshit? I’m just in my early stage of processing this and curious as to what your opinion is.
Thank you for taking the time to answer.💕
Here's a post I made where the most recent reblog I added includes screenshots from Project2025 and corresponding news headlines and press releases that show how Biden and his admin have been meeting Project2025 goals the entire time he's been in office.
He's been focusing on foreign policy where as Trump will likely focus on domestic policy.
Either way their chessboard is being setup and unless we completely reject the two party system then we're going to end up with Project2025 whether Biden stays in office or Trump gets elected.
Do not vote blue if your goal is to avoid a guy who wants to institute christo-fascism in the USA.
Vote 3rd party if you feel you must vote.
In all seriousness, I genuinely think our only option aside from that is a revolution at this point.
Democrats and Republicans are both right wing politically at this point and we're only told to compromise More to the right every year with democrats. Now theyre running the same playbook? After the DNC was already sued once for tampering with elections and sabotaging progressive candidate Sanders?
It runs too deep. They're too dedicated to their own agenda and bank accounts. We got to rip this rot out at the roots. Anything else is unacceptable.
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drdemonprince · 3 days
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Interesting to read yer response to that last ask about yer history exploring gender + transitioning. I guess it’s p relatable to me even tho I think we feel somewhat differently about our own gender. I’ve always felt a very strong internal sense of gender, it’s quite clear to me and it’s definitely not neutral, it’s quite intense. I’ve identified as nonbinary for a long time. But I’ve found the closer I’ve gotten to being in touch with it, the more confused and unwelcoming the rest of the world has become. So I spend all this time thinking about how im perceived and how to navigate that and balancing what I internally want vs trying to manage reactions to me. This is where I see our similarities. It’s gotten especially bad recently as I’ve felt a new connection to manhood and I’ve wanted to explore that but I’ve felt the backlash way stronger cause I feel like people feel much more confident to tell me that I’m failing being a man than being nonbinary. So it’s getting to the point of like, what even is being a man. (Feels like failure is a pretty core aspect of it lol) Like you talk about making these choices to join queer men’s space, which is where I’d feel the most connected to manhood, but I feel like I’d have to make pretty big changes to how I move through the world gender wise to be even allowed or welcomed there. I don’t feel an apathy like you describe, but I can totally see how this constant weighing of expressing yerself vs being seen how you want would end up in apathy
I don't know your situation, but I'd give those queer men's spaces a shot. A lot of them are far less transphobic than you've been conditioned to think. There are trans men in the queer men's spaces around you, there are people who are read as cis gay men who are themselves very much not so, everybody's fucking pansexual and nonbinary these days it's fucking crazy dog. besides, what transphobic bias does exist against trans mascs in men's spaces is so fuckin mild compared to what trans women typically confront in wlw spaces. the worst i've ever had happen to me was someone befriend me on the dancefloor and then helpfully recommend that we all head to a lesbian bar. and he wasn't even being insincere, he just didnt know what kind of person he was talking to. beyond that it's been like a total nonissue even long before i passed. so you should give it a shot, you will learn more about yourself and other people from it. and it has generally for me been pretty positive!
the problem is. finding acceptance into the little gendered club meant there was still a whole lot of Gender there. and i'm so sick of it. this is also an asexuality thing for me too. im so fed up of people being into my body or my appearance. im so sick of the obsession with bodies and appearances and the gendered projections made onto those things. it grosses me out so much. i just feel like putty that everybody's hands have been all over. im so sick of people trying to leave their mark on me.
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cy-cyborg · 2 days
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Proximity to disability is not the same as living with it - Writing disability quick tips
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[ID: An image with “Writing Disability quick tips: Proximity to disability is not the same as living with it” written in chalk the colour of the disability pride flag, from left to right, red, yellow, white, blue and green. Beside the text are 2 poorly drawn people icons in blue, one is standing, the other is in a wheelchair. /end id]
One of the really common ways people push back against disabled people trying to give them feedback on how they’ve depicted disability in their work shows up as something along the lines of, “Well I have a child/parent/grandparent/friend with that disability, so I don’t need to consult other disabled people because I already know what a life like that is like!”
I see the most vehement pushback like this from parents of disabled children. the parents who are their child's advocates, their carers, they see everything their kids go through and have been with them through it all, so they "know what they're talking about already". And the thing about that is, while it means you have much, much more experience with the disability in question, it's not the same as direct experience living with it. Don't get me wrong, it's still an incredibly valuable experience to have, I'm not saying to disregard it, but it's not the same as having that disability. And when you're writing about characters who are disabled, and telling those stories to a public who already have a lot of misinformation about us going in, that lived experience is very, very important.
This isn't unique to parents of course, like I said, I've seen the same kind of pushback from children, friends and other loved ones of disabled people, and honestly, as someone who's been on both sides of the conversation (being a disabled person, but also having loved ones with disabilities different to my own), I do get where it comes from. But no matter how close you are with your disabled loved one, no matter how much you talk, no matter how much they explain everything, unless you yourself have that same disability, it's incredibly hard to understand the details of what life with a disability is like.
Let me use my partner as an example:
Often times, before these larger articles go up, I run them by my partner to ensure the tone and message I want to get across is actually what’s being conveyed. Which means he’s read pretty much every single article I’ve written on this blog. We talk about disability representation and tropes a lot, and he is one of the only people who sees my unmasked and unfiltered reactions to media when it’s done poorly. He’s also done a great deal of his own research on the subject, and worked with other disability sensitivity readers for his own writing projects. Not to mention, well, we live together, he sees pretty much every part of my day-to-day life and he’s one of the only people who doesn't share my disability who I talk to about the more complex emotions that come with it.
I think it’s pretty fair to say he’s quite knowledgeable on the subject of living with the specific disabilities I have for someone who doesn't have them. Despite that though, he still makes mistakes. He still misses things, and sometimes, internalised ableism - something everyone has, even disabled people - still creeps its way into his work. So do mistakes he simply didn't consider to run past me or his sensitivity readers. It’s not because he’s not listening or not trying, I’d confidently say he’s gone above and beyond in that regard, but it still happens. He still misses things that seem so obvious to me, specifically because of my lived experience as a disabled person who has to deal with these things all the time. It’s not unique to him either. A lot of people in my life are aware of the issues I talk about, but struggle to recognise them in practice or struggle to understand why them being depicted poorly is a problem.
This isn't to discourage creators from trying, mind you. But just to serve as a reminder that everyone makes mistakes, and that's ok, so long as you're still trying and still listening. No matter how close you are to a disabled person, no matter how much work or effort you put into unlearning things like internalised ableism, it's still going to pop up occasionally. And that's fine, but it means that you still need to be open to the criticism you get from people with that disability.
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firesidetextiles · 1 year
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Someone here mentioned tool rolls a bit ago. I posted the dragon sample one previously, here’s another! They are fun to make! This one featuring my Animal Bones pattern has a home already, however, there’s four other ones waiting on photos. Plus like the other sewing projects I’ve been doing, I’m down to take some custom orders if there’s interest.
[ID: An image with three close up photos of a sewn tool roll. In the first photo the roll is tied closed with brown twill ribbon and highlights the white animal bones pattern print with brown rock texturing on the outside. The second picture shows the roll open with colored pencils in the pockets with matching textured fabrics and the third shows what the roll looks like with the protective flap folded down to cover the pockets. End]
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gaydogmarriage · 2 months
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ppl are always depicting cyno in fanon as a comic relief annoying idiot partner to tighnari that cannot read the room and is always making him angry and yeah he doesn't have the best social skills and doesn't understand other people that well, but he knows that. and he also knows tighnari well enough to know that if he truly was annoyed with his behavior to the point of getting angry, he would shut that shit down real quick. he's not the type of person to just sit there and take it if he's genuinely bothered, i think. cyno's just putting himself out there without letting himself be paralyzed by his own shortcomings or insecurities, and it's pretty clear tighnari doesn't want him to repress himself either.
if anything, i can see tighnari being the one with an annoying habit in private that he has 0 self awareness about because he's so used to being the one dealing with other people's bullshit that he may not realize when he's the culprit for once, and cyno is too much of an unbothered king to say anything about it, and too madly in love to stay annoyed for long lol
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keeps-ache · 6 months
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i have done so many character redesigns this year. redesigns georg
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lochley · 8 months
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i actually really do want to see the impact of the rangers on little sects of minbari society though like we know they do have some non-minbos on the planet (vir, alisa) but having THAT MANY people from that many clashing cultures must be insane on the nightlife scene.
#og#if there is a nightlife scene maybe valen wants you in bed by 8pm each night#man is there a nocturnal rangers training facility for species that require it#does that even make sense since their internal clocks vs. minbar's day/night would be dependent on how far they#traveled to get here anyway j;lkslkdjf#or would it be a case of those species not coping well with sunlight and so on#anyway give me minbari values being corrupted pls im begging#jslkdf also are there ranger facilities off-minbar and minbar colonies?#i imagine since it's based on valen's teachings it's more likely going to be centralized within minbari culture#but to make it more accessible i'd love to see like#ranger teachers bringing what they learned back to their own planets#or maybe a minbari founding a school on narn or something etc#though in the case of narn and some others that...#might be unwelcome due to bad colonization history oops#maybe if it's a narn teacher that does it through their cultural lens it would be less... messy....#i feel like narns are so... trying to be so self sufficient it might particularly be an issue for them#to join an interstellar group project#would they accept like... jsldfjk sorry for this comparison ugh#but would it be like missionary aid for the rangers to come in and help them rebuild?#or would it actually be seen as beneficial?#is it ok if the rangers are organized narns or do they think rangers are a waste of time#bc they should be focusing on domestic issues etc?#i have no idea i need more ranger insights
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hella1975 · 2 years
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my friend watched banana fish and im actually.... kinda annoyed about it
#this is SO DUMB#but basically i did all the 'guys omg NEVER watch this show' with my mates when i finished bf#while secretly hoping one of them would watch it so we could talk about it#but like genuinely the longer it goes since i finished that godforsaken anime the more it matters to me?#like 'matters to me' is a bad way of wording it bc it makes it sound like a GOOD THING#and i mean it matters to me because it is so incredibly harmful to me individually#like i really fucking projected some serious trauma in my life into that show partially bc of the time i watched banana fish#and also just bc i see a lot of myself in ash which was something i realised in episode 1#which meant i watched the ENTIRE thing aware of this just to have THAT ending happen. it was really devastating#but at the same time im aware that 80% of the reason banana fish was so sad for me#is bc of my own personal lens i watched it through#the other 20% is just the fact it's an actual sad anime#so now my friend has watched it and she's doing all the 'oh that was so sad! let's talk about it!'#and im like idk how to tell you this but i CANNOT talk about it with you like i literally cant#and for the past few months my whole 'omg NEVER watch this show' has actually been 100% serious#like i do not want my friends touching this show it's MY thing it's very personal#which is why this is such a dumb post like im literally trying to claim this anime#but it's just actually kinda invalidating to have my close irls watch it in a very casual way#it's one of those things where it's fine on tumblr bc tumblrinas GET IT bc NONE OF US are normal about our shows#but people irl are so determined to consume media in a very normal way lmao#and basically my friend is going to start making out i overreacted i just know she is#and i cannot STAND even an insinuation that im being a baby about something but i also will prove her point#if i go off on one about WHY bf is such a big deal bc i'll just look defensive#does any of this make sense#tldr: sharing media that's important to you is nice but also it's Bad and i want to Gatekeep#banana fish#probably#delete later#bc this is pathetic LMAO
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elektroyu · 9 months
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I so much feel the need to work on so many different projects and XD can my brain please focus on one for a while. Stop pulling me in all directions at once lol
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