bineindispus

[sundaysundya]

there's a post going around saying that jewish people would be considered settlers (perjorative) anywhere they went that's annoying me because it fundamentally misunderstands what settler colonialism is. Moving somewhere and joining an existing community isn't being destructive, and those who claim it is are xenophobes and racists, and historically have been being antisemitic when saying this to jewish peoples in various countries! On the other hand zionists creating settlements on the west bank and telling palestians who are Also indigenous to the land that they have to leave on pain of death (or just killing them up front) is a totally different situation. It's just not true that it's impossible to go anywhere without displacing people. I think that recognizing that jewish ppl have been and are frequently targeted by xenophobia can be really clearly separated from the criticisms being made of Israel and zionist ideology.

[queenpiranhadon]

Can you do a bakugou x reader, they share a moment together like on a trip to the beach with the class or something like an situation like there have to share a hotel room which cause them to have to talk or spend time together?

A/N: Lmao this look way longer than it should've- I beg for forgiveness 😭 Here's my masterlist!!

Warning(s): cursing, takes place during third year, reader and Shinso are apart of the hero course after being apart of general studies, reader has a mentioned and explained quirk, reader is in class 1-A, Shinso is in class 1-B, close friends to eventual lovers, Bakugou's a secret rom com lover, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, not proofread D: + anything else I forgot

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴅᴜᴍʙᴀꜱꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

You know the feeling when you’ve been working so hard that when you finally take a break, it feels wrong? 

That’s how you felt- right now- staring at the towering resort in front of you.  

You were more than grateful for the effort the school put in to accumulate the funding for a beach trip for the entire hero course- something the other courses envied you all for, and in all honesty, you would gladly give up your spot for any one of them. It was your third year, a stressful time given that you were about to become fully fledged heroes by the time you all graduated in a few weeks – something you found ironic since you and your classmates have already seen more action than the average pro hero.  

Though the circumstances were a little different for you, as you had joined the hero course later in the school year following Hitoshi Shinso, who joined Class 1-B. You were put in Class 1-A to keep the classes balances, allowing your dream to come true to become a pro alongside the others.  

Your quirk, Eviscerate, let you release powerful blasts of pure kinetic energy that could destroy, explode and burn. Though while it was no doubt powerful, it was unstable, and dangerous. When you first got your quirk, you destroyed half of your home while sleeping, and the following doctors appointment suggested getting you a permanent support equipment that would act as a muzzle on your quirk to keep in contained.  

However the company that supplied the gear was unreliable and neutralized your quirk to the point where it was practically useless. From then on, you used gear to amplify your quirk instead of restrict it, and yet, though the blasts had the same effects they used to, they would sap large chunks of your energy the more powerful the blast was, which is why you passed out after taking out 7 robots during the entrance exam and ended up enrolling in General Studies, despite your potential. 

Once you managed to get into the hero course, you were paired with train with a certain Bakugou Katsuki, who was quite experienced in the explosions department and helped you develop your special moves. Bakugou pushed you to not only become a better hero but a better person, yelling at you to take care of yourself and scolding you if you didn’t drink enough water when you felt dizzy after training.  

You two had grown considerably close due to that, and you felt more comfortable within Class 1-A, never feeling left out despite your late arrival. 

And to be honest, you couldn’t help but harbor some feelings for the blonde too.  

Now, here you were, standing in front of one of the most luxurious beachside resorts in all of Japan.  

Dragging your suitcase and backpack, you gather in the lobby alongside your classmates, awaiting Aizawa Sensei’s instructions.  

The ravenette in question pulled out his phone and starts to read out the sleeping arrangements.  

“Ashido and Hagakure, Shinso and Tokoyami, Midoriya and Todoroki, Asui and Uraraka...” he drones on monotonously, and your brain subconsciously started to tune him out until a pair of names catches your attention.  

“L/N and Bakugou.” 

Almost everyone whips their heads in your direction, and your face turns bright red.  

Bakugou?! 

*** 

Your mind races a million miles a minute. I’m sharing a room with Bakugou?! Shit- what if I’m a bad roommate?! What if he thinks I’m gross! I’m going to have to scrub myself clean every hour now. Damn it I didn’t bring enough body wash to wash every hour of the week. You mentally groan to yourself.  

You see Bakugou heft his bags, grabbing his room key from Aizawa, and you want to melt into the floor. How in the world were you supposed to inconspicuously keep your cool around the man you’ve been crushing on for months?! Especially since you were sharing a room?! 

Sighing, you decide you should probably get your key as well, shifting your bags around, and approaching Aizawa who had your key in his hand.  

Taking it from him with appropriate thanks, you turn around to leave, but you hear his voice, stopping you in his tracks.  

“L/N.” he calls, and you look back at him confused. 

“Yes, Sensei?” you ask warily, wondering what he could be asking you about.  

“You might be wondering why you’re paired with Bakugou.” he paused, choosing his next words carefully. “We assigned rooms based on those who get along decently enough, and though Young Bakugou has most definitely mellowed out over the years, he seems to be the calmest around you.” 

You feel your cheeks subconsciously heat up at the words, warmth spreading in your heart and butterflies erupting in your stomach. Did he really act that way? 

No, he just likes you as a friend, you tell yourself, clearing your throat and looking at your teacher.  

“I understand Sensei. I have no problem rooming with Bakugou-kun.” you smile reassuringly, and the man reciprocates with a wry smile of his own before dismissing you to your room.  

“Go settle in, breakfast buffet closes at 12:30 tomorrow.” he says, grabbing his own suitcase and heading to his shared room with Vlad King.  

You marvel the resort as you make your way to the elevator, ornate marbled floors the color of sea glass accented with gold. Two giant seashells the size of gargoyles stood at both sides of the elevator doors, and you step inside, soft classical music trickling through the space as you stare out the glass wall, observing the many people of the beach, and clear aquamarine waters that looked crystalline. It was...beautiful. 

You hear a ding, marking your arrival to the 8th floor, where you and the rest of Class 1-A were sleeping, except for Tokoyami, who slept on the 7th floor alongside Class 1-B. 

The floors were carpeted, a nice burgundy with simple gold waves that ran throughout the length of the hallway, simple, but elegant.  

Trailing your eyes alongside the doors, you find the door you were looking for, Room 1076. 

You fumble with the key card, pressing against the small black sensor by the door handle, hearing the beep that signaled it was unlocked, and you open it, taking in your surroundings. 

There was a large painting of two seahorses, with their tails intertwined, hung in between the beds. The beds themselves were draped with such fancy comforters that looked like clouds, you almost didn’t want to sleep on them in fear of ruining it.  

“Oi, close yer mouth, yer gonna catch flies.” you hear a familiar voice behind you, whipping around to come face to face with a pair of vermillion eyes.  

“Oh Bakugou!” you laugh nervously “I didn’t see you there.” 

He rolls his eyes, grabbing your backpack from your shoulders forcefully and plops it onto the nearby chair, effectively flinging you backwards in the process. 

“Gah! Ah shit-” you yelp, falling backwards and losing your footing, only for strong arms to wrap around your waist and yanking you back just in time to narrow avoid breaking a very expensive looking vase.  

Looking up you see Bakugou’s eyes on you, an impassive look on his face. 

A few beats of silence pass before you burst out into laughter, Bakugou forced to shift your form in order to not have to fall over again from the ferocity of your heaving giggles.  

“Pfft- you should’ve seen your face - you were like rahhhh and I was like AHHH” you rambled, finding it difficult to breathe as your muscles painfully stretched to accommodate how much you were smiling.  

You feel a hand rest on top of your hand, effectively silencing you as Bakugou clicks his teeth impatiently. 

“Tch- calm down dumbass, ya just got here and yer already trying ta destroy the place.” he grumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. “Aizawa said we can call up room service for free- let's order some dinner and watch a movie or some shit. I’m fuckin exhausted.”

You smile brightly, shoving down the butterflies that erupt in your stomach, and nod.  

“Sounds good! You order and I’ll find something to put on.” you beam, flopping down on the bed closest to you, deciding that it was going to get messed up anyways. “Just don’t get anything too spicy. I’m not a weakling obviously, but you’re probably going to manage burning off my taste buds one way or another.” 

Bakugou rolls his eyes again, flipping you off and receiving and indignant Hey! from you, walking over to the bedside table to dial room service on the provided phone.  

Flipping through the channels, you surf through various news programs and sports broadcasts, already missing your easily accessible streaming services back home. Finally, you find a cheesy rom com you were familiar with, thankfully the timing was perfect, seeing as the movie’s opening credits roll through. The quality was surprisingly good, you thought happily to yourself, but given that you were staying in such a high-end resort, you shouldn’t be surprised.  

You make yourself comfortable, mentally high fiving yourself for deciding to wear sweatpants and a t-shirt that morning, so you didn’t feel the need to change into your pajamas just yet.  

Bakugou hangs up on the phone with a gruff salutation, sitting on his own bed adjacent to yours and raises his eyebrows at your choice of movie.  

“This one? Really?” he asks, frowning slightly and you quirk up an eyebrow in return.  

“It was all I could find, plus I know you like this one. You have the book copy of it you nerd.” you smile teasingly.  

Bakugou’s ears turn red at the realization that you noticed his guilty pleasure of reading romance novels, chucking a pillow in your direction in retaliation.  

“So what? Movie’s shit.”he grumbles, turning to watch the male lead being introduced. “S’true for all of em. Books are way better.”

You sigh, disgruntled as the pillow hits you in the face and falls off your bed out of reach. You did really want to throw it back at him, but right now, you were just too lazy. 

“Stop being such a sourpuss.” you gripe, letting your arms dangle off the side of the bed as you lie on your stomach. “Obviously books are more accurate, but just try to enjoy a classic movie as if it were a standalone.” 

The blonde sighs, making himself comfortable on his bed without another word, vermillion eyes locking themselves on the screen, just as the female lead complains to her best friend that her crush won’t like her back. He knew it was a dumb movie, just by looking at the male lead’s interactions with her, it was clear he was in love with her. Were people always so dense when it came to a guy’s feelings? 

His eyes wander in your direction, watching you doze off , face half smushed against the edge of the bed. Sighing, he gets up, grumbling as he realizes his foot fell asleep, but works through the pain as he makes his way to your side, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV.  

He places the remote on the bedside table and lifts you gently, adjusting the pillows and rearranging the comforter to safely tuck you in. However you weren’t fully asleep, your eyes blinking blearily as you weakly protest.  

“No...not yet...” you mumble, frowning softly, and Bakugou resists the urge to smooth the cute crinkle between your furrowed eyebrows “Food’s going to waste...” 

The blonde chuckles quietly, eyes softening as he tucks a strand of of loose hair away from your face. “S’not a problem dummy, I didn’t order anything. Knew ya were gonna pull this shit. We'll eat a big breakfast tomorrow.”

You nod sleepily in agreement, as he turns away to get ready for bed himself, only to be stopped by the feeling on your hand loosely wrapped around his wrist. 

“Bakugou?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

His cheeks are tinted red, clearly flustered, not that you noticed, too tired to pick up on really anything. 

“I...”

“I love you too dumbass.”

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

NSFW Alphabet for Sebastian Sallow

Warnings - 18 + smut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Right after sex, Sebastian is exhausted and unable to form many coherent thoughts. He is ready to snuggle right up with you and pass out.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His favorite body part of his is his arms, he likes to think that he's decently muscular with bulky biceps. He knows that if he's playing with you no matter what you'll probably get a good look at them and he hopes you enjoy the way they look. Sebastian loves thighs, squeezing them, kissing them, biting them, you name it. They're so versatile and plush and he's definitely thought about just rutting his cocking back and forth between your shut thighs to get some friction.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's a slut for wanting to taste your cum. He loves it if he's the one who's initiated the reaction from you with his hands or his mouth, but even if he's watching you take care of yourself he's there to lick it all up until you're clean. For m!partner he loves getting your cum on his face or straight into his mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Sebastian's dirty secret is that he likes to use the underwear that you wore for the day in his masturbation endeavors. (yes he's that guy)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He's probably had a reasonable amount of casual encounters, but nothing that was ever truly kinky or more than an easy way for him to get off with somebody else's help. He's charming and knows how to utilize it to get what he wants even if it were just a quick handjob or blowjob.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Entire headcannon just for this here. In general either missionary or face-off one of you is in the other's lap glued together. He likes being close to his partner and able to see all their expression and feel every move their body makes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Goofy or serious just depends on the mood. If it's a situation where one of you is feeling particularly dominant, he usually takes his role seriously. If it's softer lovemaking he's definitely likely to say something silly and have you giggling throughout.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He has fairly thick pubic hair that he does attempt to keep neat since there is so much of it. He has a dusting of hair on his chest and lighter-colored hair on his arms and legs.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Sebastian is never particularly romantic during sex. The best you'll get out of him is him being needy for you and begging, telling you sweet things to try and convince you to give in and let him have his way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) If he's unable to have you, he's masturbating a lot and driving himself crazy doing so. He takes off all of his clothes and tries to run his hands over his body as you would, but it's never the same. It leaves him very frustrated.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He likes being dominant or submissive, but enjoys this over a more equal dynamic during sex. He enjoys being choked and in turn likes watching you choke or gag on his cock. Definitely interested in impact play and humiliation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He's the master of finding secluded areas for sex that could get you in a lot of trouble if anyone found you. He enjoys outdoor sex quite a bit for the same kind of reason, that you always could be caught or overheard.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) He's easily turned on when you're slightly angry with him. He likes to push your buttons and find your breaking point until you let him take control and make it up to you or you just take control and knock him down a peg.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Really the only thing he probably wouldn't give a go is things related to certain other bodily functions (don't make me say it)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He likes giving and receiving equally. He loves being able to please his partner and taste them. When he's receiving he loves how you look stuffed full of his cock, drooling and crying. That does more for him than how good it feels on its own.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Usually hard and fast, but he slows down to make things last longer.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) It's not a preference of his, but it goes along with the idea of sex in risky places. If an opportunity arises he's going to take it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Most definitely willing to experiment and try almost anything. He's so addicted to you that anything you asked of him he would try at least once before deciding how he felt about it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He can probably last for one or two rounds especially if it's been a little longer since you've been together. But he's definitely going to be exhausted and overstimulated after round two.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He's open to the idea of things, especially paddles and whips, items that can inflict some manageable pain. He really enjoys having those types of things used on him. He would probably have something to use anally on himself if it wasn't already a part of your anatomy to do so.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) If he can tell you're riled up, he'll spend a lot of time teasing you. Eventually, he'll get to a point where he's feeling animalistic himself and can't do it any longer, but he'll take as much of your time as he can. And then be a huge brat when you do the same thing to him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Low, raspy whispers and sinful, loud groans. Not much in between. He's a sensitive lad and can't keep his mouth shut.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Detailed information about his dick here. He's got a pretty bulky body type with thick, wide arms and thighs. He's got a soft tummy with a nice trail of hair leading down to his pelvis. He has a very soft and sizeable bum. He's about 6 inches hard, obviously uncircumcised, but girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) He's a man fueled by a lot of raw and terrible emotions which means his testosterone is going wild and he's got a pretty high sex drive. If you express you need a break or need him to back off, he'll 100% respect that, but be very pent up in the meantime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He's ready to conk out, rest, recover, repeat.

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 2: the aftermath

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 5.1k

chapter warnings: implied that reader doesn't have a good relationship with her family

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

You and Chan are immediately accompanied  to the doctors. You endure being poked and prodded for an hour, first individually, then together. Each time you make contact with him, either skin-to-skin or through layers of fabric, you’re startled by the thrum of the Charge. It’s different from anything you’ve ever experienced, the sense of comfort and warmth that it brings.

Soulmates are rare, none of your friends or family have one, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a general sense of the bond that you now share with Chan. Growing up you had heard so many stories and watched dramas of how after First Touch your body changes and contact with your soulmate now results in a sharing of energy, called the Charge. Secretly, you had always considered that having a soulmate would be more of a nuisance than romantic. It didn’t replace the need for sleep, eating, or drinking, but basically seemed like a new requirement in addition to the rest.

The stories had never emphasised just how good the Charge felt.

After all the testing is complete, they bring you to an office and sit you down, test results displayed on a screen and an ominous looking stack of paperwork. The main doctor knocks on the door, then lets himself in, settling behind the desk. He squints down at the paperwork and passes the first two packages to you and Chan.

“Here are the results from today. I'm happy to say that both of you are in relatively good health and don’t have anything to be concerned about. All the testing that we completed also confirms that you two are soulmates. Congratulations!”

You and Chan thank him, but it’s mostly out of reflex. You keep replaying the moment of your First Touch in your mind. The feeling of the Charge is indescribable, but one thing for sure is that nothing has ever felt so right even though you still feel unsettled at the idea that you could have a soulmate. 

You’re certain that Chan feels similarly even though he’s doing a good job of presenting himself as calm. You can see it in the way that he’s been lost in thought, getting startled whenever somebody had asked him to do something for another test. His hands had lingered every time you had made contact before it would register, then he would quickly pull away. It was almost addicting, how nice the Charge feels, and it’s enough to override the awkwardness of the whole situation.

The doctor explains some of the results of the testing that you had gone through, but the medical jargon meant that it went right over your head. You pay much more attention to the impacts that your new bond has on your life. The biggest is the time it takes to Charge. Similarly to sleep, recommended Charging timing for each day was 6-8 hours, although there was no difference if it was all at once or spread out. The doctor powers through a laundry list of side effects related to not getting enough charge, making you and Chan exchange glances.

With your jobs and what you know about Chan’s current sleep schedule, it’ll take a decent amount of effort, coordination, and probably some sacrifice from both of you to meet the minimum amount of Charge. When you voice your concerns, the doctor warns you that while not being able to Charge could be offset by eating and/or sleeping more, it would require a significant increase in both to get you even close to normal energy levels and generally wasn’t recommended.

Finally, the doctor distributes the legal and medical paperwork that needs to be filed to properly register as soulmates as required by the government, as well as become each other’s emergency contacts. It’s a tedious process, but luckily it doesn't take too much effort, mostly involving copying information on multiple forms and trying to recall your medical history.

When you’re finished, you leave to find Yonghwan standing in the waiting area of the doctor’s office. He was the one that you first told about your suspected soulmate bond. You had spammed him trying to get in contact, texting multiple times and frantically calling him until he had finally picked up his phone. He had been slightly annoyed initially, having been in a meeting at the time, but had immediately dropped everything to meet you once you had explained what happened.

Now, he gives you and Chan a slow once over before nodding to himself. When Chan excuses himself to go to the bathroom before you leave, Yonghwan sidles closer to you.

“Well,” he says. “It’s not the worst pair that I can think of. Good thing that you joined the team earlier this year, Y/n-ssi, otherwise this would have been an even bigger headache than it already is.”

“If I didn’t transfer to the team then maybe we never would have found out,” you laugh, but wince inwardly. You know that with any idol, having a soulmate is inconvenient at best, but it stings a little for someone to offhandedly confirm it to your face.

Yonghwan looks thoughtful at that. “Huh, maybe you’re right. Took you guys a surprisingly long time to have your First Touch considering how close you are to the boys. Did you really never have skin-to-skin contact with him these past few months?” Even though there’s barely anybody around, and nobody seems to be listening, the two of you have to be careful about mentioning any recognizable names.

“I guess not,” you say, also surprised. Yonghwan’s expression turns from pensive to sly in an instant.

“Although I would have thought that you’d have been a match with a different Australian instead of this one.”

“What?!” You try your best to suppress the blush that’s suddenly fighting to work its way up your face. “I promise that the two of us are just friends!”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughs. “Everyone knows Mr. Sunshine clings on to whoever lets him, especially when he’s tired. You’re his favourite target because when his brain hurts too much to translate then he can still talk to you.”

 You’re struggling to think what to say in response, when Chan reappears, effectively ending the conversation. The three of you proceed to the parking lot without saying a word. There’s already a car idling in the pick-up area that leaves the moment the three of you have gotten in. Just when you think you’ll finally be able to go home to rest, the car takes a turn down a familiar street.

“Are we going back to the company?” Chan must have the same thought as you, as he speaks up before you have a chance.

Yonghwan doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting shotgun, typing on his phone and confirms, “Yes, there’s still more paperwork for you two to complete. You were able to file all the government mandated forms, but given the… nature of your occupation, there are company procedures that you must follow as well.”

You lean back, knocking your head against the headrest.

"I bet I have more things to sign and fill out than Chan-ssi, right?" you groan. Chan grimaces in sympathy.

"I'm afraid you're right. NDA's for you and the people you want to tell about the bond," Yonghwan agrees. "We'll also be arranging any changes to your position responsibilities. Obviously we still need you doing all the work that you're currently doing for the tour, but there's interest in increasing your involvement during schedules. That is, you would be attending more of them. If you agree, of course." He adds the last part as an afterthought.

"Yes, I'm fine with anything. " You scramble to answer. You actually currently don't have the extra capacity, but you're feeling overwhelmed by all these new expectations and want to do everything you can to make the company happy. The more they support you and view you as cooperative, the better. You know them asking for permission is more like an order that’s disguised as a request instead of actually seeking permission. It’s not like they can fire you anymore, but you know they have the power to make every step of your life more difficult and frustrating. One of your worst defence mechanisms has always been blindly agreeing to what is asked of you and it seems this time is no different.

"You don't have to if you're too busy, I know there's a lot on your plate right now," Chan says, looking guilty.

"No, no. I don't mind at all. I'd be happy to spend more time with you and the boys. I think it'd be good for both of us," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring and confident.

"Great," Yonghwan breaks in. "I'll let them know so they can draft any paperwork accordingly."

You slump in your seat at the mention of even more forms to fill out, while the reality of what this soulmate bond means for your life sinks in. A thought crosses your mind and you bolt upright.

"I have to move in with you?" you exclaim, staring at Chan, whose ears and cheeks instantly flush pink.

"Although it's technically possible for Chan-ssi to move in with you, in reality everything is easier if you move in with him," Yonghwan answers instead of Chan, his tone apologetic.

“Today?” You know the answer before Yonghwan even says anything. The doctor had stressed the importance of Charging consistently, especially in these first weeks. Since your jobs made it impossible to Charge during the day or evenings, it left only nighttime available.

“You don’t have to come over today,” Chan jumps in. “We can stay at your place if that makes you more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’ll have to move in eventually, so I shouldn’t put it off. As long as Changbin-ssi, Hyunjin-ssi, and Jisung-ssi are fine with it, that is.” Really, you’d prefer to spend a few days at your place alone to process everything, but that’s not an option so you might as well get to know your soulmate- although it still scares you to consider him that- and new roommates better.

“The guys will be fine with anything, I’ll just give them a heads up about… everything.” He pulls out his phone and in the silence, Yonghwan speaks up again.

 "Of course, JYPE will compensate you for the inconvenience of moving and the cost of terminating your contract. All the rent for the dorms that the boys live in is already covered, so you don't have to worry about that. Everything will be explained in more detail in the documents we have prepared, luckily this is all standard procedure."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense… Does standard procedure mean this has happened before? Another JYPE idol has a soulmate?" you question.

Yongwhan pauses to turn back to you, raising an eyebrow.

"Even if there was, it would be highly confidential, Y/n-ssi. In the same way that the staff who know would never say anything about the two of you."

"Ah, right. That's a relief I guess." You laugh, then sober at the thought of having to pack all your belongings and move in with four men. You've grown closer to them in the past few months, but not enough that you don't feel extremely awkward and bad about intruding on their space. "Oh also, I guess I'll have to talk to the legal team about this again but I don't rent my place. Sorry if that makes it more complicated."

Both Chan and Yonghwan stare at you at that, causing your cheeks to flush.

"Does somebody else rent it? Do you have a… roommate?" Yonghwan ventures when you don't elaborate.

"I own it," you say, feeling even warmer at their taken aback expressions. You're lucky the car is stopped at a red light otherwise Yonghwan might have crashed it based on how he's not paying attention to the road right now. "My parents helped me buy it, but it's under my name so technically I own it."

“Well,” Yonghwan says after a moment of silence. “I would say that makes things easier. I assume that you would prefer to keep it?”

“Yes, I’m sure that I can eventually rent it out if I never use it, but in the meantime it’ll make things easier since there won’t be a rush. And more storage is always better I guess,” you laugh.

“Perfect,” Yonghwan says.

The conversation ends there. The information was harmless, although it does set you apart a bit since barely anybody else you know owns instead of rents, but you still feel like you shared too much.

—

After signing countless NDA’s, contract amendments, and filling out some HR forms as well as enduring a comprehensive and quite intimidating lecture about what you can and cannot do now, you’re feeling exhausted. So before you can get called in to do anything else, you leave the building.

You and Chan decide to head home separately. You have to go back to your apartment to pack some essential items to bring back with you and to clean up, you definitely  would prefer to shower at your place one last time. Chan, and presumably Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung, will be cleaning up the dorm as well as figuring out a plan for moving you in. 

You take your time, cleaning up your kitchen, taking out the garbage, packing up enough clothes to last you a few days, toiletries, and make-up, then showering. Once clean, you spend another half an hour just scrolling on your phone trying to take your mind off of the major changes that are going to be happening in your life.

Soulmates.

You still can't believe it. It feels like a position that you shouldn’t have been given and you’re nervous about whether you’ll be a good partner. You had spent the past few years so focused on academics that your social life had been sacrificed and you didn’t have many close friends. You have no idea how things would turn out, a soulmate bond didn’t guarantee a romantic relationship, but they were more common than not and you weren’t sure how ready you were for anything serious.

Chan being an idol added extra complications and you knew it meant that your relationship, romantic or not, would have to stay a secret for a long time. You didn’t mind keeping things quiet, you were naturally a private person, but having to be so careful about not being caught together was something you were concerned about.

Before you can spiral further, your phone chimes with a notification. Chan’s name pops up along with a few messages. You have texted him a few times before, but never on your personal cell phone.

[8:15 pm - received]

Hey Y/n!

[8:15 pm - received]

You can come over any time now

[8:16 pm - received]

Sorry that took longer than I thought, we were just trying to clean up haha

[8:16 pm - received]

Not that we’re that messy!

[8:16 pm - received]

We just wanted to make sure everything was sorted before you arrived haha

[8:17 pm - sent]

No problem! I’ll head over now. Can you send the address?

[8:18 pm - received]

Yeah. And just text when you get to the building, I’ll meet you in the lobby and bring you up

[8:18 pm - sent]

See you soon :)

—

The move, if you can call it that since you had chosen to only bring a small portion of your belongings so far, had gone over pretty smoothly. When you had arrived at the dorms, Chan had been waiting in the lobby as promised and had immediately taken your bags, putting them away once you got to their apartment. It’s not as awkward as you had feared. Just like before, it’s easy to banter with the boys, and time passes quickly.

After a late dinner, the five of you hang out in the living room. Someone starts playing a movie, but it’s mostly just for background noise, Jisung makes a comment about one of the characters in the beginning that Changbin doesn’t agree with and it turns into a full-on debate that’s totally unrelated to the movie. Hyunjin is curled up beside him, occasionally contributing to the discussion but directing most of his attention to his phone.

It feels strangely domestic. Even though it hasn’t even been a full day since you found out you were soulmates with Chan, you already feel like you’ve been welcomed into the Stray Kids family and you didn’t know that you’d like it so much.

“You’re probably tired,” Chan says, standing up shortly after the movie is over. You follow him to his room, suddenly feeling nervous. You’re comfortable with Chan, but you’ve never been good at sleeping in unfamiliar places and you’re not quite sure what to expect. 

His room fits his personality, it’s extremely neat, everything in its own place. A significant portion of his deskspace is filled with equipment related to gaming or music production. You try not to be too obvious with your inspection, instead heading right to where your bags are leaning against one side of the bed.

“I ordered a different bed,” Chan says suddenly. When you look back at him, he’s still standing in the doorway, scratching his shoulder awkwardly. The tips of his ears have turned pink. It suddenly occurs to you that he’s likely just as nervous as you are, maybe moreso. "Sorry, I know this one is kind of small for two people. It should come in a week.”

“Okay, that sounds good, thanks,” you say, distracting yourself by trying to find your sleeping clothes.

“I also cleared out some closet space for you.” Chan finally steps into the room and opens the door of his closet to show off the empty shelf and hangers. The left side of the closet looks like one big shadow, crammed tightly with folded hoodies, shirts, and pants, all black.

“Oh, th-”

“And everything is clean. The sheets and everything. Washed it all when I got home.”

Chan’s face is fully red now and things start to make sense. You’ve seen a few video clips and have heard the members teasing Chan enough times to know why he wants to assure you that everything has been cleaned.

“Ah,” you say knowingly, feeling comfortable enough to poke a bit of fun at him too. “Because you normally sleep nude.”

"What?" Chan sputters, hands coming up to cover his face which is somehow even darker than before. You laugh at his reaction, there’s a mixture of mortification and confusion, but neither of you are nervous anymore.

“You haven’t really kept it a secret,” you tease. In response, Chan just groans and flops down onto the bed. You continue, “I’ve seen enough interviews… So I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

At that, Chan shoots up and starts waving his arms frantically.

“No, no! I promise that I’m going to wear clothes to sleep! And when I’m not sleeping too! All the time! Don’t worry about that!”

You just laugh even harder until you can feel tears starting to collect at the corners of your eyes. You take the opportunity to lie down beside Chan, brushing your arms together. You close your eyes. Before you can be lulled to sleep by the instant relaxation that the Charge provides, you haul yourself up to wash up for bed and Chan does the same.

Surprisingly, you fall asleep almost immediately, and wake up feeling better than you’ve felt in a long time. When you look beside you and see Chan rubbing his eyes, hair a mess, and creases on his cheek from his pillow, you know that he feels the same way.

“Good sleep?” you ask, once it looks like Chan is awake enough to open his eyes for longer than a couple seconds.

“Yeah,” Chan says in wonder, voice is sleep-roughed and much lower than usual. “Woah, yeah that… I don’t know if I’ve ever slept that well.”

When the two of you break contact and you still feel well-rested and refreshed, you think that maybe you could get used to this soulmate thing.

—

A few days later on a night that you and all the members have off, you walk into your shared bedroom to find Chan at his desk, laptop set up in front of him. He brightens immediately when he looks up and sees you.

“Oh, here she is!” he says, to your confusion. He beckons you forward and when you step close enough, you can see that he’s on a video call with his parents. “This is Y/n, my soulmate! Y/n, this is my mum and dad.”

You smile and wave awkwardly, leaning over Chan’s shoulder in order to fit properly in the frame. His parents are cuddled comfortably on a couch, and say how glad they are to finally meet you. They speak mostly Korean during the conversation, likely for your benefit, because the few times they switch to English, it’s for remarks that are directed just to Chan, like when his mother scolds him for not helping you move a chair beside him so that you can sit down. 

You’re also introduced to Berry, who barks eagerly when she sees Chan, making him coo, eyes curving into crescents as he widely smiles. You can’t help but smile at that, although it’s not unusual for Chan to smile so much, it’s endearing to see how he melts so quickly at the sight of his dog. You’ve heard a lot about her and whenever Chan gets any new pictures from his family, he’s quick to share them with you and the rest of the group. 

Luckily for you, the call doesn’t go on for too much longer. Even though Chan’s parents were sweet and only directed a few questions to you, mostly electing to alternate between teasing Chan and asking him about his health, you weren’t prepared to meet them tonight and feel a little off-balanced.

The rest of the evening is relatively quiet, Chan is more pensive than usual after talking with his parents and you’re also lost in thought. It was really interesting to see this side of Chan. For all the jokes about him acting like the maknae, Chan was the backbone of Stray Kids. He always supported the group and took on extra responsibility, even if they didn’t realise it. On the call, he seemed younger and more carefree. It’s a good look on him.

Right when you’re about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up.

“Have you talked to your parents recently?” His voice is deliberately casual, but you can tell that he’s interested in more than small talk. 

“Uhm, no,” you say, trying to match his even tone. You don’t know if you succeed. “My family isn’t as… close as yours.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. Under the cover of darkness, you can’t see anything but the silhouette of his face. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Your eyes start to get heavy again. “They live in Seoul, right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” he says again. 

“My brother, too.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Another pause, before, “an older brother?”

“Yeah. By three years.”

If Chan has anything else he wants to say in the resulting silence, you don’t know. You fall asleep before he has a chance to.

—

Surprisingly, the months seem to fly past.

It’s easy to learn and adapt to Chan’s routine when all he does is spend time at schedules or holed up in his studio. You start to bring him dinner after a few too many times when you visited late in the evening and found that he’s forgotten to eat. These mealtimes that you share give you a needed break and you also just enjoy spending time with him, even if it’s often just you eating quietly while he eats and continues working. You don’t push him to stop working during the times that you eat together, you know that it would only cause him to either eat dangerously fast or say that he’s finished before he’s actually full.

It also becomes standard for you to be the last one on your team in the office, often you’re arriving back at your desk right when everyone is leaving to go home or out for dinner. Honestly, you find that your strange hours can prove to be advantageous, as it pushes the timings of your emails to send during working hours for the American companies that you’re working with.

You’ve gone out for drinks or food with your coworkers a few times since you found out that Chan was your soulmate, but with your additional responsibilities, you’ve been under pressure to properly balance your workload so that you can finish everything in time. Your repeated absences don’t discourage your team from inviting you out, but they come to expect that you’re not available. You don’t mind, it’s not like you ever have pressing evening plans that you’re missing and it means that you can try to coax Chan home at a more reasonable time instead of him accidentally pulling all-nighters.

He’s gotten better at that. You know it’s partially because the Charge has helped a lot with his insomnia and he no longer dreads going to sleep. You also suspect that it’s concern for you that motivates him to wrap things up. When you start to yawn or doze off while waiting for him, it’s a reminder that the Charge works both ways and as much as he’s okay with sacrificing some energy, he wants you to be well rested.

The two of you sometimes walk back to the dorm together. It’s not too long of a walk and you want to make the most of the warm weather before the seasons shift. The late hour usually means that it’s peaceful and the cover of darkness eases any fears of Chan being recognized. You don’t hold hands or anything, but it still feels illicit, like you’re blending in too well with the couples that you always see. 

Regardless, it’s one of your new favourite activities. You take the time to learn more about Chan, his likes, dislikes, what he’s working on, what he’s stressed about or looking forward to. Even when you and Chan are just walking in silence, it feels comfortable.

—

During the last few weeks of summer, Chan’s sister, Hannah, comes to visit Seoul from Sydney. She’s travelling with a friend, but sets aside a few days to spend with Chan.

It was unavoidable to change the timing of one of the schedules, so she tags along with you. She’s quite a few years younger than you, but easy to get along with. You’ve spoken to her through video calls a couple times, but it doesn’t compare to being with her in-person. Hannah’s constantly making jokes, generally at Chan’s expense, and the set for the photoshoot you’re at is filled with laughter. Chan has to be pulled aside by a make-up artist to have foundation and concealer added to his ears and reapplied to his cheeks with the force of his blush. He constantly grumbles and pretends to get mad at her, but everyone can tell from the sparkle in his eye that he’s ecstatic that she’s visiting. 

Chan and Hannah have an interesting dynamic. You can easily pick out similarities between them in both appearance and personality. It's sweet how much he dotes on her even if he tries to act nonchalant and she does her best to show how much she enjoys it. Even though they have a fairly large age gap and Chan spent a significant portion of his life in Korea instead of Australia, they're close in a way that you and your brother have never been.

All the members are familiar with her and treat her like she’s their little sister too, letting her choose restaurants, making sure that she eats first, and spoiling her with gifts.

You take Hannah out one afternoon, when Chan’s not available but you have some flexibility in your schedule. It gives you a chance to talk to each other one-on-one and you know that she’s been meaning to find something nice for Chan without him knowing about it. It’s fun to browse stores and get to know each other better.

"So, what's it really like, being you know, with my brother?" She asks as you take a break at a quiet cafe. Both of you had picked out a couple of items and had found a new hoodie that you think Chan would like.

"It's good, but… challenging," you admit. "Work definitely makes it hard to have a lot of time to actually spend together. I think that he found it difficult having to adjust to a life that has a more… set schedule."

“Ah,” Hannah says, knowingly. “You mean the fact that he’s actually forced to go to bed every night instead of staying up in his studio for days on end?”

“Exactly! Actually, his insomnia isn’t as bad anymore and he can actually fall asleep most of the time, but it’s hard for me to tell how much rest he’s actually getting or how he’s doing. Like I’m pretty sure since I think I’m getting enough charge, then that means he is too, but I know even if he wasn’t then he wouldn’t say anything.”

"Yeah, that’s the one thing about him that I've learned over the years. He always tries to take on things himself so that he's not a burden. He was independent for a long time. Keeping people at a distance is the way that he deals with problems. I like you, Y/n. I don’t want you to get hurt by my dumb brother and his dumb decisions.”

You’re surprised, both by how mature Hannah is and also that she cares about you enough to warn you. For a moment, you don’t even know how to respond.

“Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate it. I hope that I’ll be able to support your brother and make sure he feels like he’s not alone.”

“Just let me know if you need me to talk some sense into him,” she says. “He gets too far into his head sometimes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, if I ever want to instil the fear of God in him,” you laugh. You can definitely imagine Hannah calling up Chan and giving him a piece of her mind if you ever complain to her, but know that you’d never take her up on the offer. “Now come on, one of my favourite stores is on this block and I think you’ll like some of their clothes.”

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[zoeykallus]

Hi Zoey,

Thank you so much for your head cannons.☺️ Our Queen of Head cannons! Anyway today has been kinda a bad day for me; and since your stories have always cheered me up. Some backstory so you can understand what I’m asking: when I have bad days I have a hard time forcing myself to eat. Would you be willing to write a hc about it. That would be wonderful if you would. Gn character with bad batch and anyone else you would like to write with it.😇🤗 Thank you! Even you don’t write it that’s ok.

Aloha! First off, I have to apologize for taking so long. This request dates back to February 😨

Apart from requests piling up, the time between January and April was hard on me. Sorry! Enough with the excuses, let's get to work...

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Take Better Care Of Yourself

Warnings: Suggested Eating Disorder

__________________________

Hunter

As patient as he can be, he doesn't like it when you neglect yourself. Especially when he perceives it repeatedly, he intervenes. "I know you're not feeling very well right now, but you need to keep up your strength". You can argue or whine back and forth all you want, you see Hunter standing in front of you, arms crossed in front of his chest, brows drawn together critically. He won't listen to any excuses. He doesn't want to grumble, and he knows you're not really doing it on purpose, but from his life with his brothers, he only knows the path of severity in situations like this. "Eat at least half, I don't want you to pass out on us here," he finally growls, also making sure you do just that. He takes you aside later, massages your shoulders and talks to you gently, trying to relax you and bring you to other thoughts, hoping that he can drive away the gloomy thoughts and maybe stimulate your appetite again. He will leave no stone unturned to help you.

Echo

He can't take a joke when it comes to food, especially since he puts so much effort into preparing it. And Echo is a fantastic cook. When Wrecker is already reaching for your portion because you're not eating again, Echo slaps him on the wrist. "'Stop that! That's not your plate." "But-" Echo's critical, stern look makes the giant fall silent, pouting. You can't help but feel guilty, Echo has a knack for just looking at you and making you feel guilty about food or generally how well you take care of yourself. However, Echo also knows that he can't force you to do anything and might even make things worse. Instead, he'll prepare a picnic basket filled with all sorts of things you like best and arrange to whisk you away to one of your favorite places together at the earliest opportunity, hoping to stimulate an appetite there. He'll also take you up on that food problem. "How can I help you? What can I do to make you feel better, love?"

Wrecker

At first, he doesn't think much of it. There are rare moments when he loses his appetite, but he has already experienced with his brothers that this can happen. He gladly accepts the extra portion you offer him. But he notices that this pattern repeats itself, and he starts to worry. "You can have my portion too." Wrecker frowns, you see his expression suddenly look worried. "Again? Aren't you hungry?" "Not really," you admit. Wrecker seeks advice from his brothers before discussing the problem with you. He tries everything possible to stimulate your appetite. He gets your favorite snacks, creates a special ambiance, takes you hiking to make you hungry, gives you relaxing massages. Wrecker has no shortage of ideas. Wrecker wants you to be healthy and happy, he makes it his mission to make sure you have everything you need. In this, he is very persistent and lovingly determined.

Tech

The first few times, Tech doesn't say anything, but he notices and makes mental notes. In fact, he keeps a sort of mental log of all your mannerisms and things you do, among other reasons, to better understand you. Finally, you do it again, leave the food, and Tech looks up from his datapad. "You have an eating disorder." Surprised, you look at him. "What?" "Your strange behavior, regarding your food intake, indicates that you have an eating disorder. To be honest, that worries me greatly," he says matter-of-factly, pushing his goggles with his index finger and examining your body with his gaze. He explains to you in gruesome detail how this can affect your health, what diseases and disabilities can be triggered by the lack of certain essential nutrients over time, how they show up, the symptoms, and the less-than-pleasant end results. Tech doesn't hold back on this, even though he sees you squirming. He thinks it's extremely important that you're aware of any consequences. "Perhaps we should consider therapeutic measures before it gets to a point where we may be left with invasive, medical options. Force-feeding, is probably extremely uncomfortable." He may seem very matter of fact and maybe even cruel, but Tech is worried, he is approaching this in such a logical, almost clinical way because that is his way, that doesn't change the fact that underneath the matter of fact facade sits an anxious Tech who is in agony out of fear of seeing you suffer or even losing you. Communicate with him, tell him what is bothering you, what exactly is preventing you from eating. Give him the opportunity to work with you to find a way to address this problem.

Crosshair

He is very attentive and notices your eating behavior immediately. "You're not one of those who stuff themselves with food when no one's looking and then puke it back out, are you?" You look at him in surprise. "What?" Sourly, he says, "I swear, if I catch you doing that then-" Crosshair interrupts himself, he doesn't really know what to threaten you with himself, basically he's just worried and can't really handle it. He's going to ask his brothers and get information elsewhere to find out what he can do. Crosshair wants you to be well, even though it may not seem that way at first. He is not angry at you, but at the helplessness he is pushed into in this situation. It will take a while, but he is adjusting and doing his best to accommodate you helpfully. He will leave no means untouched, whether they are interpersonal, therapeutic, or otherwise medical.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Take a Chance (Part 2)

Pairing: Crosshair x reader

Rating: General (but MDNI)

Summary: Crosshair can’t scarcely believe that he’s been matched so quickly. The date he goes on is like nothing he’s experienced before.

Warnings: more Crosshair angst; fluff; more of my matchmaker OC Tal (and a blink-and-you-miss-it of my clone OC Creed); Crosshair has a lot of feelings but doesn’t know how to show them

WC: 5.2k

Read Part 1 here!

Crosshair spent the entire rest of the day in agony. Tal had promised to message as soon as possible, but Crosshair needed information three hours ago. Curse Wrecker for shoving his nose into Crosshair’s business. Curse Wrecker for wearing down his walls, lowering his defenses, putting him into this karking situation. It was nearly enough to dredge up the old itch under his skin for a quick smoke, something to take the edge off. 

No. That wasn’t a promise he’d break anytime soon. 99’s wrinkled face flashed in his mind, and he sighed, slouching farther into his desk chair. 

He’d sit at this damned desk all night if he had to. 

Instead of the intel-gathering he should have done in the first place, all he could do now was sit and wait and hope that his target would stumble blindly into his scopes. It wouldn’t be the first time—but it certainly wasn’t his preferred way of completing a mission. 

He tried, genuinely tried, to not think of this whole endeavor as a mission. The date looming in his near future could very well change the entire trajectory of his life in a way that none of the routine reconnaissance and black ops missions Clone Force 99 took on did. But he couldn’t help it. He was grasping at straws, snagging on anything that gave him a semblance of normalcy.

The dim Coruscanti sun had just begun to set, speared by the innumerable skyscrapers that blocked his view, when the comlink chimed. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he glanced down at the newest message. 

Crosshair— come to my office when you can. Nothing’s wrong. Just want this conversation to happen in person.

His brain shut off after the first sentence. Something had gone wrong. His prospective match—matches—somehow found out who he was and bailed, withdrew their applications with RTL. Worse, the matchmaking service had decided that he was unfit material for their clientele and would be barring him from utilizing the company in the future.

A swell of anger crested through him, burning away the anxiety he’d been wallowing in all day. They really had no idea who they were dealing with, did they? Well, he would just have to go down there and give Tal a piece of his mind. 

Halfway out the door, he fired off a text to the group chat—going out—before putting the comlink on silent and shoving it into his jeans’ pocket. The walk to the shiny, chromium-plated building passed in a blink; before he realized it, Crosshair stood peering up at the clean white sign, a scowl marring his features. 

The receptionist was different from the one he met yesterday, but the man behind the desk seemed to know exactly why he was here as Crosshair stalked to the check-in station. Pressing a button on the intercom, the man spoke in a low tone, holding up one finger for Crosshair to wait. 

“Yes, of course,” the man said. “I’ll let him know.”

Setting the phone back in its cradle, the man gave him a cursory smile. “Tal will be right out.”

Crosshair grunted in acknowledgement, but refused to sit. He lingered in an aisle between chairs, arms crossed over his chest, pointedly staring at the door that led to the back offices. In the corner behind him, two regs conversed quietly. He felt their gazes bore into him. Normally, it pissed him off; right now, all he wanted was an explanation.

The moment the door cracked open, Crosshair yanked the handle. A young woman, eyes wide as plates and hand flying to her heart, shrieked in surprise. 

“Oh—uh, s-sorry,” he muttered out, anger in his chest immediately dousing with embarrassment. “Thought you were—”

“Th-That’s alright,” she said, affixing a smile to her face. Blinking, she peered past him. “Creed?”

One of the two regs stood and straightened his denim jacket before disappearing to the back with the case worker. Before the door fully shut, though, it swung open once more, admitting the familiar figure of Tal.

“Someone’s impatient,” Tal noted with a raised eyebrow. 

With a hard look, Cross merely swaggered past his case worker, taking the monotonous hallways back until he recognized the exact wood grain pattern on the correct door. Tal touched their keycard to it and the door unlocked with a click. 

“Speak,” Crosshair spat as soon as the door shut behind Tal. 

Tal’s jaw worked for a moment, their eyes narrowed as they appraised him. “Wanna try that one again?”

Crosshair deflated, sinking into the silken futon. He gestured helplessly for Tal to break the news, whatever it may be. It was as close to an apology as he felt capable of mustering right now.

“I just thought you ought to know that the match chosen for you,” Tal began, perching in their seat, hands laced in their lap, “doesn’t exactly live nearby.”

Crosshair scarcely dared to breathe. Eyes locked onto a faint stain in the area rug, he swallowed down the riot of emotions coursing through his body and focused on the words. 

He still had a match. 

Exhaling, he dared to glance up. Tal met his gaze with a calm expression of patience. 

“I can see how my message may have worried you,” Tal said. “But I wanted to talk in person. These are very special circumstances, and I want you to know all the options.” 

Still giving him a choice, still giving him control, even after he made an ass of himself. Mollified, Crosshair nodded slowly. 

“Which are what, exactly?”

“Either we bring her here, or send you to her,” they said. “We recently opened up the applications to other planetary systems, intending to establish other branches wherever clones settled down. It just happens that her application matches yours, not any of the men on her own planet.”

He couldn’t quash the childish sense of pride that filled him with. “‘Special circumstances,’ eh?”

Tal nodded and said, “Leadership is willing to cover the cost of transportation for the first meeting at least. I am still negotiating for future meetings should this first one be successful.”

“You’re…fighting for me,” Crosshair said. The disbelief rang harsh, even in his own ears.

“That is my job,” Tal said with a wry smile. “Believe it or not, Crosshair, there are people who want the best for you and your brothers. For all the clones.” 

Leaning back against the futon, he rubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes until starbursts exploded across his vision. 

“It’s a lot to take in,” Tal said. “But what I can tell you is that she is very excited to meet you.”

“You showed her my profile?” he asks, lips baring in a half-snarl. 

“Maker, no,” Tal said with a gentle laugh. “The moment you let me choose was the moment this became a double-blind process. Once you agree to the meeting, you’ll receive just her holoscan and name, and she will get yours.” 

Crosshair turned that information over in his mind. Never no mind the fact that he hadn’t been the one to give up the choice, it wasn’t lost on him that Tal used the word ‘meeting’ rather than ‘date’—removing a lot of the pressure and anxiety that he still felt over this whole situation. And really, what did he have to lose? His brothers would support him whatever his decision, like they always had, once they processed their own emotions. Sure, he’d probably let this mystery woman down, and Tal, too, but his match didn’t even live on Coruscant. He’d likely never meet her if he didn’t do this. And Tal, well… Crosshair was no stranger to shutting others out. 

In reality, the only person who would be hurt if he chose not to do this was himself. 

Maybe he owed it to himself to try. 

“Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll go to her. See the sights.” 

Which is how he found himself, a standard week later, standing in the midst of one of the less busy ports on Coruscant. The shuttle taking him to the nearby system, Stassia, was due to arrive at the terminal in just a few minutes, and Crosshair couldn’t keep his eyes off of the chrono. Would his date—he struggled over the word, even in his own mind—understand if he was late because of traffic delays?

Looking at the chrono meant that he also ended up rereading the series of messages from his brothers. 

Remember, vod, just be yourself.

That is terrible advice, Hunter. Crosshair, be the opposite of how you usually are. -Tech

Don’t listen to Tech. You’re gonna be fine. She’s gonna love you no matter what! Or they wouldn’ta matched ya together.

Grinding his teeth, Crosshair shoved his comlink back in his pocket and tried to ignore the conflicting advice. As starships and people flowed around him like water, he remained unmoving, rooted to the spot. There were very few times in his relatively short life where he could recall feeling like this, and he despised every one of those memories.

He was a wreck. 

Outwardly, he’d never show it. He knew he continued to exude the calm, collected, debonair facade that had practically become his trademark, even as his insides melted to jelly and solidified to permacrete simultaneously. He was being ripped apart from the inside by nerves.

He’d printed out the holoscan that Tal provided him, the only bit of you that he knew so far besides your name. The flimsi crumpled in his grip before he remembered to relax. Even in a holoscan, slightly pixelated and distorted, he knew you were beautiful. A bright smile and shining personality, he realized, staring down at the flimsi clutched in his grasp, he couldn’t wait to meet. 

The shuttle arrived on time, departed the port on time, and made the jump to hyperspace on time. It did little to ease the heavy stone of nerves settled into Crosshair’s stomach. By the time the ship lurched out of the hyperspace lane, he’d bitten his nails down to the beds, one of them bleeding.

During the war, he’d seen his fair share of planets—always in quick bursts, flashes of cultures and climates that sometimes left his mind whirling. In their own ways, every system was unique and beautiful, and this one was no different. The Stassia system was on the smaller side, a surprise given its location in the core, but what little snooping he’d done on the HoloNet revealed a comfortable, temperate planet dominated by agriculture and cattle. As he gazed through the transparisteel viewport down at the vast green landmasses and deep azure oceans of your homeworld, the nerves that had been plaguing him for the past week settled. 

He was here. He could do this. He would do this. 

He still had no idea what activity he’d be expected to partake in. Hunter’s first date with his partner had been a simple dinner; Tech took his to the Coruscant Library; and Wrecker met his to watch a speeder race. But that had all happened on Coruscant, a city-planet; this, he mused, disembarking the shuttle, this planet was much quieter. 

Breathing deep, he enjoyed the scent of hot earth, grass, and animals that filled his lungs. The sun, hanging low in the sky, scattered color across the sky in a vast canvas, oranges bleeding into purples, as fireflies gently warbled lime green across the field ahead of him. “Quiet” was certainly the word for it; this quaint little space port boasted a singular platform and loading dock, nestled at the edge of a small town. 

A few other passengers had gotten off at this stop as well, all of them nat-born. Crosshair watched in silence as they all rushed off the platform, joining their loved ones who waited along the dirt path that led into town. Skimming the small throng, any hopes that had buoyed up upon landing suddenly burst. He didn’t see your face among the crowd.

Biting down on his toothpick, he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and trudged along the dusty footpath toward the town. The closer he got, the more this world came to life around him. The sweet smell of freshly baked bread wafted on the warm evening breeze from open windows, mixing with the joyous sounds of children giggling in whatever game they played. The buildings here were short and square, made of wood instead of metal, but looked comfortable. A string of warm yellow lights flickered to life overhead as he passed through the town center, a latticework of wires, bulbs, and gently chiming trinkets. He watched as lovers linked arms to stroll down the street and parents scolded their spawn for darting too far ahead. 

And then he saw you.

Standing at the end of the main square, clutching at the strap of your crossbody bag, your face quite literally glowed in the incandescent illumination above. Head tilted back, a soft smile playing over your features, Crosshair had never seen someone so…at peace.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you seemed to notice him, frozen in place, eyes locked onto your face.

He watched the recognition spread over your features instantly, your eyes widening and smile broadening into a beaming grin. 

“Crosshair?” you asked, striding toward him. 

He gave a single, curt nod. “That’s me.” 

Holding out your hand, he glanced down at it before shaking it. Your skin was warm against his, smooth and pleasant. You gave him your name, even though he already knew it, already had it committed to memory, and then resumed fidgeting with the strap of your bag. 

“So,” you said, “how do you feel about going to the carnival?” 

“Never been to one.” 

“That’s not what I asked,” you said, squinting up at him, a defiant light sparking there in the yellow lights. 

Arching one thin eyebrow, Crosshair couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, I don’t suppose it was.” He let the word fade, let you sit for a moment to ponder whether he would actually answer your question, before continuing, “Carnival works fine. Lead on.”

“We’ll have to take a speeder bike,” you said. Walking backwards to keep your eyes on him, he marveled at the sudden impulse to turn you around if only to avoid you hurting yourself. “It’s not far. And it’s so worth it. The fried dough is to die for.”

To die for. Every time a nat-born let that phrase slip out around him or his brothers, they always followed it up with some asinine question like, “Oh Maker, was that insensitive?” He hated it every time. And now, he tensed, expecting the faux-pity, the sympathy he never wanted. But it didn’t come. You’d since pivoted on your heel to lead him through the gathering dark without a second thought to your words.

He lengthened his stride to match your pace. “You’ve been to it before?”

“Every year since I was a youngling,” you said. “Family tradition. But my parents are gone now, so, it’s just me.”

Another reflexive tensing of his shoulders, jaw clenching around the toothpick. Parents, or any mention of families, also set nat-borns on edge around clones. But again, you didn’t offer any apologies or even showed any sign that you were privy to the way Crosshair reacted.

He simply grunted in response, not sure what to say now that his usual scathing remarks were unnecessary. You seemed content with his response. The pair of you passed through the rest of the town and came upon a secondary, smaller platform with a half dozen speeders parked on it. Moving to the farthest one down the row, you shot him a look as if to say, Coming? 

“This yours?” he drawled, eyes narrowed as he focused on the way that your hands moved with practiced ease over the bike’s controls. 

The engine revved to life. Swinging your leg over the main seat, you nodded. “Used to be my dad’s. C’mon, hop on.” 

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred yet to Crosshair that taking a speeder bike to this carnival would entail some kind of physical contact. He’d just assumed that there would be multiple, that maybe they would race, but not this scenario.

He hesitated only for a split second, processing his options in record time, before hitching his leg over the back of the bike and perching onto the narrow passenger seat. Now faced with another decision, his hands froze in the air as he debated where to hold on.

You saved him the trouble by reaching back and, blindly groping, snagged one of his wrists to draw around your middle. Surprise thrummed through Crosshair, the feeling of your skin once again sending a thrill of excitement down his spine. He leaned against your back, settling his chin in the crook of your shoulder as his arms locked around your body.

Pressed against you like this, he felt the way your body shook with silent laughter.

“Was that a test?” he asked flatly. 

Your laughter rang out as you guided the speeder off the platform and into the tall grass. “No. Maybe. Alright, yeah, it was. I can tell a lot about a person by how they react to sitting behind me.”

Cross hummed. “What can you tell about me?”

“Secure,” you said, and then all conversation ceased as you pushed the speeder to its limits.

The roar of the engine mingled with the rush of wind in his ears. Tall plains grass whipped past; he was grateful he’d chosen denim pants and a thicker leather jacket, the garments offering protection against the sting of the grass. When you leaned forward, urging the bike faster, he had no choice but to lean with you, his chest pressed to your back, warmth blooming somewhere behind his sternum. Even at this speed, whatever perfume you’d put on filled his nose, gentle and peaceful and muted. 

In the rapidly gathering dark, it wasn’t long before he picked out the telltale sign of the carnival. Multicolored lights, strobing and flashing, twinkled like so many beacons in the midst of the sea of grass. You guided the speeder down to a reasonable speed, and Crosshair caught his first real glimpse of the carnival. 

Red and white striped tents dotted the landscape, sprawled like childrens’ toys, clustered around large mechanical rides. He didn’t have names for most of the rides, but already knew that his favorite would be the one just ahead, with four main arms that branched down into double-seater pods. Carnival-goers already sat strapped into the ride seats as the machinery whirred to life. Engrossed, Crosshair watched as the main arms began to orbit the center spoke, and, to his surprise, the groupings of seats rotated around one another.

“That’s the Scrambler,” you explained, following his line of sight. “We can do that one first. It makes me real dizzy.” 

He said nothing as you eased the bike to a stop a short distance away from the main entrance. A large, lighted arch proclaimed Welcome in stylized Basic; a short queue shuffled underneath as visitors bought tickets and darted off once inside. 

He followed you, content to let you lead, as he soaked in every new sight. Children tugged on parents’ hands toward much tamer rides, spinning teacups and dancing bears; gaggles of teens giggled past as they shoved cotton candy into their mouths; other couples, young and starry eyed, traipsed toward the tallest ride, a massive metal circle. But what really caught his attention were the draped stalls. He spied a number of games, all based on aim, all promising prizes of a soft, squishy variety. A small thrill of anticipation hummed through him. How many of those could he win for you?

“Crosshair?” you asked. 

Yanking his attention back, he blinked down at you. “Hm?”

“Should I get enough tickets to do everything once?” 

He nodded and fished in his back pocket for the stack of credits that Hunter had shoved into his hands before he left. But you shook your head with a small smile, saying, “You get food, I’ve got tickets.”

Hesitating only a moment, he nodded once, acquiescing. In no time at all, you exchanged brief pleasantries with the gate attendant, purchased a bundle of tickets, and turned to him with a wide smile, happiness shining in your eyes. 

“Shall we?” 

He twitched his eyebrows up in an approximation of a ‘yes.’ 

You took a step forward, then turned back, a suddenly shy look on your face. “May I?” You reached as if to grab his hand.

He studied your face for the space of a heartbeat, drawing in as much visual information as he could, in only the way that he knew how, a product of his engineering. Now that he was over the initial shock of seeing you in person, his enhanced eyesight cataloged every feature of your expression that you probably weren’t even aware of. The single eyebrow hair that you’d missed while plucking, the way that your left canine was just a smidge crooked where it gleamed between your parted lips, the accrual of living a life outdoors ingrained into your skin. 

Crosshair was, by nature, a visual person. He placed a lot of emphasis on both his appearance and how others presented themselves to him. He’d long since forgiven himself for honing in on the defects, the blemishes, the scars and marks and imperfections. 

Looking at you now, he found that the imperfections were what made you perfect.

In silent approval, he held his hand out for you to take. Skin sliding against skin, his tongue toyed with the damp toothpick as he marveled once again at your softness. You led him directly to the Scrambler, true to your word; handing over the required number of tickets to the attendant, you shot him an expectant look as the two of you joined the short queue.

“So,” you said, leaning against the battered metal railing, “Right to Love, huh?”

Whatever warmth had taken root in his chest wilted a little. Arching one eyebrow down at you, he scoffed. “So, clones, huh?”

“I’ll tell you why if you tell me first,” you offered.

The line moved up as the ride came to a clattering halt. He used the movement as a momentary distraction, enticed and yet unsettled by your forwardness. But to his dismay, the attendant shut the gate before the two of you could go through, putting you at the front of the line. 

As the ride chugged to life once again, Crosshair allowed himself to sigh. “My brothers wouldn’t let up until I set up an appointment.” 

The gaze you fixed him with said you wanted to call his bantha fodder, but you just nodded slowly, digesting that.

“Your turn,” he said. 

You huffed a laugh. “I have high standards.” 

Crosshair felt his eyebrows creep up. “Standards.”

“Yup.” You fiddled with the fraying strap of your bag. “Always wanted more than the farm could give me. Not that there’s anything wrong with the farms here, they’re just…the same they were when I was a kid. And they’ll be the same when I’m old and dying.”

“The stability means nothing to you?” Crosshair asked. Though he supposed he understood your viewpoint: he chafed under routine, living the same days on nearly endless repeat.

Shrugging, you exhaled slowly, turning your face skyward. “I dunno, I just… I look up at the stars and know there’s entire worlds out there.” 

He followed your gaze. He’d seen his fair share of those worlds; he wanted to see them again someday, under better circumstances. 

“Anyways.” You laughed, sounding hollow and forced. “Um. I hope you like this ride.”

“I will,” he said. 

And he did. Though it reminded him of some of the cadet training he went through with his batch, the centripetal force pinning him to the seat also smushed you alongside him, your bodies touching nearly their entire lengths. Your breathless laughs and thrilled squeals as the ride whipped around, faster and faster, set his heart ablaze. Dimly, he was confused—was this supposed to be so easy?—but the low chuckle that escaped him felt right. You felt right. 

He owed Tal an apology, and a thank you.

The pair of you stumbled out of the ride, hair windswept and messy. His lips twitched into a grin as he watched you sway, his own vision tilting on its axis for a moment before righting itself.

“Where to now, trooper?” you asked, giggling.

“You pick.” 

Hours later, when you’d ridden every ride and after he bought you both some overpriced, overly greasy fair food that you insisted he try (and that he silently admitted was amazing), he finally dragged you over to one of the game booths, intent on earning a souvenir, at least for you, if not for himself, too. 

You groaned as he tugged you by the hand. “Crosshair, these things are always rigged—” 

“That’s because you don’t have a marksman’s eye,” he drawled. 

Stepping up to one that seemed like it should be simple—a wall of balloons and a pile of darts—he wordlessly passed the worker the trivial number of tickets and accepted the three darts he was allotted. He turned the darts over in his hand, feeling their balance, calculating angles and trajectories and even wind speeds on autopilot. He could do this part in his sleep. No, he was incredibly aware of the way that you openly stared at him, a smile toying with your lips, as you waited for him to prove you wrong.

“Watch and learn, doll,” he murmured, and then he threw all three darts at the same time.

Pop-pop-pop!

Three balloons exploded into tatters as the darts landed in a neat line. Pride reared its head in his chest as your mouth fell open, an admiring gleam glazing your eyes.

“You were saying?” he said, smug. 

Laughing in disbelief, he couldn’t help but preen as you shook your head. “Wow. Um. That was impressive.”

“Let’s make a bet.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying.

Cocking your head, you grinned. “What kind of bet?” 

“I bet I can win every game here.” He held up a finger at the impatient attendant who tried to interrupt.

He watched as you weighed the options for a moment; he could nearly see the gears turning in your mind, the way your brow scrunched as you thought. Then you nodded. 

“What are we wagering?” you said. 

“If I win, I pick our next date,” he said simply. He enjoyed the way your smile turned shy, face tilting down for a moment. “If I lose, you pick again.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” you said. But when you reached out and gently ran your fingers across the back of his hand, he knew you were just teasing.

“Hey, man, you gonna pick a prize or what?” the huffy attendant asked. 

Rolling his eyes, Cross jerked his head at you. “Pick.” 

“Oh!” Delight sparkled in your eyes as you quickly glanced over the options. “The little green frog, please.” 

He’d lost track of time. This was the most fun he’d had…ever, and he wasn’t even sure how it was possible to feel so connected to a person he’d just met. Let alone a nat-born. He’d only experienced one fit of angst when he thought you weren’t looking, wondering if his snark was grating on you, but every time he quipped, you matched his energy. You held your own. He appreciated it.

But by now, the night was winding down. Fewer people crowded the grounds, and the sounds of screams had declined dramatically. He still had one more game to win—much more at stake, of course, than just the stuffed toy waiting for him. 

“If you win this one,” you said, arms full with an assortment of squishable friends, frogs and Loth-cats and baby banthas and a number of other critters, “you’re picking the prize. I can’t carry any more.”

“Deal.” His eyes skimmed the prizes in this booth. They were the biggest ones yet, massive Loth-cats that probably stood at least half of his height. It would be so out of place in his otherwise sparse bedroom, but it would be his. All he had to do was win.

With only a couple handfuls of tickets left, he doled out the specific amount for this game. The attendant yawned their way through the explanation of the game: toss the rings over the bottlenecks without knocking any down. If he got all five, he got the big prize. As with every other game, he took a moment to feel the balance of the projectiles, assess angles, get a feel for what he had to do. 

Maybe it was just the knowledge that his entire bet rode on this final game, or maybe it was something else, but a nagging doubt wriggled at the back of his brain as he held the rings. 

Shrugging it off, he took one and, aiming, tossed it for the bottle directly in the center. It was a good throw—a perfect one, he knew—but he watched, horror mounting, as the ring caught the lip of the bottle and bounced. 

“What?” he snarled.

Tossing the second ring, he aimed for the same bottle, and again, the ring bounced. Kark. He gritted his teeth and tried again, adjusting his stance. This one was a little better, it at least flipped over the neck of the bottle behind the one he’d aimed for. Holding his pose, he tossed the remaining two rings and got them both on.

You snorted a laugh at his side. “Technically, you won.” 

“No, I didn’t,” he ground out. Throwing tickets at the attendant, he scooped up another five rings. 

Taking his time, he held each individual ring to get a feel for its particular balance. Four of them sat in his hand, identical in every way; but the fifth, that traitorous little piece of plastic and rubber, was unbalanced by the tiniest margin, something he’d obviously missed in his overconfidence the first time. 

He threw that one first, accounting for its unfair design, and it slotted home on exactly the bottle he aimed for. Triumph burned hot and fierce in his chest. The other four rings landed perfectly, as well, testament to his skill as a marksman. And as he clutched the giant, white-and-gray Loth-cat plush to his chest, he caught the way that your gaze softened as you studied him. 

“What?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “Nothing. Do we have enough tickets left for the Ferris Wheel?” 

Only three tickets remained clutched in his palm. The Wheel, he saw, peering over the dwindling crowd, required two tickets per rider. His heart sank in his chest, a peculiar, unfamiliar feeling. 

He saw the exact moment that your disappointment registered, and his heart squeezed. He hated the way that your face fell, eyes downcast, before you reassembled a falsely cheery mask over your expression. 

“That’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “We did a lot tonight.”

Crosshair was already searching the ground, eyes darting around in an attempt to locate any stray or discarded tickets. He would fix this. He would make you happy. 

There. 

Balancing his Loth-cat on one hip, he bent to retrieve the trampled, soggy piece of paper. He held it aloft with the barest hint of a grin. “You were saying?” 

Crosshair had never known a softness quite like the one in your eyes as you beamed at him.

[heartshapedbubble]

Hi love. Hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you would be ok with some general Frederick and/or Helena headcanons for the birthday requests. Hope you have a nice day and thank you for your content 🥰💕💕

hello and i am, thank you sm! 💓💓 you've just requested both of my faves (for the first time too on here too) so who am i to deny🤲

helena adams and frederick kreiburg general/random hcs👁🎼

helena adams👁

first of all, i hc her as american (not CAWWWW MURICA🦅💥🦅💥🦅💥 (well now that i think about it...) american, but rather mid-atlantic accent american. yeah. the early 20th century american) and obviously quite short, standing around 158cm (~5'2") and being of a bit chubbier, pear shaped build

i'd say that she's a pretty picky eater honestly. she really likes eating sweet foods and is used to the food that's generally on her repertoire at home, so eating out makes her feel a bit anxious since it's a whole different way of preparing food (and whole different dishes/meals, after all) and she's worried that it might have the wrong texture and that it's not going to taste as well as it does at home. she'll always give it a try before judging it though!

it's been made quite obvious in the previous hc but helena loves routine and needs it to function. she only feels completely calm once all the furniture in the house is at the same place it usually is and when her duties/tasks are organized throughout the day. although the manor forced her to adjust to an unpredictable lifestyle, she kept on doing some of the "rituals" she did at home to feel more at ease

definetly has gotten education in the music field! poetry and music go hand in hand, so i'm sure she at least had singing lessons or listened to a lot of classical music growing up. she is very knowledgeable on the topic and can quickly analyze any given composition

prone to meltdowns when she's very, very upset. she bottles it up 99% of the time and hides it well, but sometimes she just snaps and it results in a very self-destructive meltdown. she's a calm person in reality, so if you've managed to anger her you seriously had to fuck up BIG time

she dislikes getting any pity because of her disability, she knows that once her teacher and her father pass away she'll have to be able to stand up and fight for herself. and hell, she has been living like this since infancy, she's prepared for a lot of situations! might occassionally accept some gentlemanly aid, but anything else is a no, thank you. despite her short stature she is incredibly stubborn and strong willed, never giving up even when it seems the most reasonable option

frederick kreiburg🎼

slim and of proper posture, frederick stands at 175cm (~5'9") tall and is of austrian descent

very paranoid about cleanliness and keeping everything tidy, refusing to take off his gloves unless necessary

he likes piercings very much! has a double helix piercing on one ear, an industrial on the other and snake bites, he's not sure why he's so fond of them but it's probably because they're (usually) not very flashy, easy to remove and safe (as long as the piercer is experienced)

very thick body hair/hair in general and has a greek nose!

not incredibly talkative, and when he does talk he often drifts away mid conversation and gets easily disturbed by the background noises or chatter - has a very light lisp and sometimes struggles with pronouncing english words as it's his second language and he was forced to learn it during his homeschooling program, fred's kind of insecure about it so it's one of the reasons he doesn't talk a lot

uses a cane to support himself as he limps, the reason behind it is that some other health problems of his built up over time and resulted in him struggling to walk and becoming exhausted quickly - being frail and sickly all of his life took a serious toll on him and his mental health, constantly making him paranoid about becoming seriously ill and even resulting in a lot of early gray hairs

[skelezomperman]

Random thoughts the second - On Hostility in the FE Community, Part 1

This past weekend, more or less, marked a year since an incident that took place here on Tumblr regarding the Fire Emblem: Three Houses community. Specifically, it involved an artist being run out of the fandom due to harassment. Even as a relatively uninvolved person, this incident has stuck in my mind for the past year as perhaps one of the most egregious things to come out of the four years of discourse over this game. If you, my audience of two or three, will indulge me, I have a few rambles - so much in fact that I have to split into two parts. The first part will focus on 3H specifically, and the second will be on the broader FE community.

As I was saying, about a year ago – towards the end of September 2022 – there was an incident which took place on Tumblr. This incident involved a fanartist for Three Houses who was a fan of the Blue Lions. They were rather obscure, or at least obscure enough to where I had never heard of them before this. The artist deleted their social media after allegedly experiencing harassment from Edelgard fans which was allegedly over a comment over Sitri. Afterwards, their Tumblr URL was hijacked by someone else and used to reblog a rant from a prominent Edelgard fan. In that post, the person denied responsibility but they said that the artist “got what they deserved” and that they “fucked around and found out.” While the posts in question have been deleted, I do have screenshots of this happening in case anyone wants to examine what was actually said rather than taking my description as fact.

Generally, this person and their followers have been held responsible for what happened to this fanartist, and this story has been passed around as fact to this day. I was personally angered when I heard of what happened, especially because of the brazen URL stealing, the lack of shame regarding what happened to this person, and how irrelevant they were in the grand scheme of things. (It's one thing if this happens to someone who compared Edelgard to Putin or called Dimitri a racist or something like that - as poor of an excuse it is to point to that, it's at least an excuse. This was beyond the pale.) It pains me to admit that I allowed anger to get the better of me, and I apologize that I did so.

Since then, there’s been an interesting allegation. 

I’ve seen that when this story has been brought up, other peoplehave claimed that the artist was harassed off the Internet by “their own fans�� and that members of the…we’ll say “anti-Edelgard” group had framed Edelgard fans as being responsible.

Sadly, I cannot immediately disbelieve this allegation. Some of the reaction to this incident was quite exaggerated, especially with the attempt to drag Edelgard's VA (Cristina Vee Tara Platt) into this drama and with the digging up of years-old Discord posts. While I won't elaborate, I also have reason to believe that the anti-Edelgard crowd also has a complicated relationship with the truth. It may be simplest to believe that it is the Edelgard fans who are lying and that whoever stole the URL sympathized with them or collaborated with them, but as things stand, it's a he said-she said situation. I am not God and I don't know for sure what the harassment entailed or who stole the URL, so I cannot make an impartial judgment.

(As an aside, while I'm not interested in debating this incident publicly, my conscience does weigh on me for having possibly spread calumnies in the past. If anyone per chance has evidence that there really was a conspiracy to frame Edelgard fans as responsible for harassment, I ask that this evidence be emailed to skelezomperman@gmail.com. If you convince me that there really was a conspiracy, I will publicly apologize. If you send evidence but it doesn’t convince me, I won’t say anything in public, so don't feel afraid to reach out.)

So this is where things stand, one year after moonlitboar was run off Tumblr. It would be one thing if this quietly faded into the background, but to this day I still see people spread this story (probably because nothing happened with any of the people involved, as far as I know) and to this day I see people play the blame game over this. To me, the fact that this incident happened and that it continues to linger is symbolic of the fact that an entire section of our fandom has been turned into a wasteland where people are fearful to speak their mind. It was egregious, but certainly not the only incident. And I do not mean to be an "enlightened centrist," but this kind of thing certainly does not exclusively happen to BL fans and it is not exclusively perpetrated by Edelgard fans. Many different people from many different cliques are responsible for this petty conflict and I would say that it has left a negative impact across the broader FE community. At the very least, I hope we can all agree that this shouldn't have happened and this person did not deserve this, regardless of what they actually said. I freely admit that I am naïve, but I hope that one day this will be resolved - that not only will the actual truth be known, but that all those responsible will apologize and turn a new leaf.

I will address this last part to everyone who continues to be involved in debates over FE3H, whether it is here on Tumblr or elsewhere. I recognize that with some of you, I have lost credibility due to past actions, but I hope you will still listen. When we are at the point where there are accusations of conspiracies being lobbed between cliques, there is something wrong. Some people may be more to blame than others, but I do not believe anyone who continues to be involved can truly claim to be innocent. I recommend that you do an examination of conscience: in other words, to review if your activities to fandom are truly bettering yourself and others or if they are detrimental. Those who are fanning the flames of conflict are quite possibly hurting themselves more than other people! I will get more into this in the second half of the post, but please, I really recommend stepping back and taking a long look at what exactly you are bringing to our community.

If you are spending inordinate amount of times getting into arguments with other people about 3H, or if you see yourself as part of some kind of war, or if you are looking down on other people, or if you see yourself as a martyr, you should take a step back and consider if you actually being a positive influence or if you are part of the problem. Yes, some people do say really stupid, mind-blowingly dumb things, and I understand the temptation to rebut it - I feel it a lot. But it’s worth remembering that sometimes it’s best to just leave them alone and lay off. Lack of discretion is a big reason why many people have been made to feel unsafe in a community discussing a game that they love. Let me say this again: this entire conflict has made people feel unsafe to discuss a game that they love. Putting everything else aside, this alone should be enough to make anyone in this community feel ashamed. It is very regrettable and we should all review to see if we have contributed to that and what we can change to prevent that in the future. This includes being a bystander - if you see stuff like this happening, even if it's from someone you consider a friend, do not be afraid to step in and say something! Your small, humble action could make a huge difference for other people.

To those of you who have made it to the end...congratulations? You are probably asking: how is this thing that involves a few dozen people at most relevant to the broader FE community? Tomorrow or Friday, I will post the second half of this ramble in which I address hostility across the entire spectrum of intensity, from a simple backhanded comment to outright harassment like this. From there, we can perhaps truly discover what it means to be a welcoming community and better ourselves and each other.

Edit: The second part is finished! Go take a look. It's much more positive and uplifting than this post, a reflection more about how everyone can help solve the problem of hostility.

[dearweirdme]

I have a weird theory. So it's no surprise that in their early years, bts were kinda "rude" to each other. In a sense that they'll joke negatively without knowing that it could hurt the other's feeling. Or even cringing when one would initiate skinship or anything similar and they were kind of practicing the no-homo agenda.

And we also know that they grew out of it. They practice self love as well as loving the people around. Resulting to them loving each other the most. They rely on each other and of course we don't see 90% of what is happening behind closed doors but it's clear that they talk things out. Hence the reason why they lasted so much as a group. That's how I see it.

Now my theory is that aside from taekook relationship, we've got jimin as the second most closest to Jungkook. And we see them being each other pillar, supporting each other and being affectionate but in a brotherly way. Is it because in the past we could clearly see jungkook (maybe unaware) being kind of mean to jimin? Like pushing him or not caring too much. He is certainly not the only one who was like that at their debut.

All of this to say that while practicing to love each other, they undoubtedly worked on members who weren't the fairest with each other and this is how as time passed jikook became one of the closest?

Hi anon!

I think many forget that Jk, Tae, and Jm were still soooo young when they met. Especcially Jk.. I mean, he was away from his family from his early teens.. he was put amongst this group of Hyungs, who were also all still very young. They were all going through various degrees of moving into adulthood while also being placed in an extreme situation of becoming idols.

Jk was a teenager.. and for all his shyness, and introvercy, and humbleness, and empathy.. he was also just a brat at times. Which isn't something weird or unexpected at all at that age. Imagine any 16, 17, 18 yr old you know.. and I'm sure anyone of us can imagine that Jk reacting to someone a bit older to him with a certain fierceness is pretty normal.

So some of my random thoughts in regards to your ask... and excuse me when I go a bit ranty here.

I think BTS are all skinshippy in some ways. Yoongi and Namjoon the least, Jin also has boundaries.. Hobi, Tae, Jk and Jm all definitely enjoy it (though I think Hobi also has some natural limits here). Skinship between men and boys is something normal in SK. It's not something they would have had to get used to, it's more that they had to discover what each other's preferences were when it comes to being physically close.

I don't think Jk ever felt negatively towrds Jm. Their friendship had to grow ofcourse, just like their friendships with all members had to grow, but the I don't think they had to work towards loving each other by intentional conversations. I think it was just naturally, by going through things together, by experiencing life, by enjoying the same things. Jk doesn't like being babied much in general (though sure he has his baby moments), but I think he did find it hard that Jm layed out the Hyung card at times. From how I see it, out of the three Maknaes, Jm is the one who feels/felt most strongly about being respectfull of age. I feel he is the true Hyung out of Vminkook when they are together. Always the most 'sane' reasonable one, trying to get them them in order. Tae and Jk actually are the 'two always getting scolded together'. So from how I interpret Jk and Jm, is that Jk just at times 'overstepped' in how he was supposed to be respectfull towards his hyungs (which is what the rainy days fight was basically about). And I think he was just annoyed at being put in a certain position. Very teenage like, very understandable. From Jm's side, he is Jk's Hyung. He saw a cute little brother, whom he wanted to help and be close with.. but who he also felt was out of line at times. To me it actually makes so much sense how Tae and Jm were the ones fighting the most. Being same age, they could do that without overstepping much. Both Tae and Jm have no problem standing for what they feel is right.

I don't feel Jm and Jk particulairly had to work on becoming close. I think they were always on the path to closeness.

And yes, they have all gone through working out how to deal with each other. I think at this point all members are at a place in which they feel more like equals.. they just know and understand each other so much, that they don't have to question each other's intentions and actions.. because they know that the mutual respect is there.. even if one of them says something that could potentially be considered rude.

This feels like it's all over the place. I have soo many thoughts... and the adhd is high today.

[lewis-winters]

I know I should be working on other WIPs-- and just working in general-- but I watched The Old Guard again yesterday so here, have the Winnix TOG Canon Divergence AU

tw for: depictions of death, the effects of mustard gas, gore, trauma, and angst!

"Stop touching it."

Dick doesn't. In fact, just to be annoying-- though mostly on reflex-- he brushes past the newly formed scar of Lewis's brow one more time, prodding and poking until finally, fed up, Lew waves his hand away with a weak growl. "You'll open it back up."

Ah. That gets Dick to back off, pulling away abruptly like he'd been scalded. And maybe he has. After all, there's blood on his mind, now. A memory both too fresh to do anything but hurt; but a situation too resolved to feel anything but indignation at his own continued terror.

It's been nearly a millennia since the beginning of their renewed existence, and while they know their lot of second chances are bound to run out one day, surely the familiarity with Death should have settled in their old bones by now. Yet, when She comes, She brings with her all the fanfare that accompanies all finality. Almost immortality does not always warrant camaraderie with pain and grief.

They were luckier this time, at least.

They hadn't been as eager to join this war as they had been the last. Not that he'd been eager to join that war, either. But just like all things, Dick's need for a cause called out to Lewis' need to make sure Dick doesn't lose his goddamn mind fighting until he drops. And so, in the midst of the 1910s, they managed to find themselves spending long nights in the deep, damp French trenches, huddled together in the dark. For two and a half years, they lived like that, shaking apart with fear, both real and imagined, as the rats nibbled on their fingers and infections slowly overtook their lungs and toes. Any warrior worth their salt would know that it's not the fighting that fucks you over, but the waiting in between. The rotting wounds left to fester. The fear that threatened to eat you whole from within, if the bullets about you didn't get to you first. Together, they passed days watching their boys die, either from sickness or bullets or both, their corpses stacked around them so high, in the dark they looked like fortress walls, caging them in as they waited for the moment it would all come toppling down.

Then, the gas came pouring in.

Lewis had taken the brunt of it, in the end, ripping his gas mask off in a desperate attempt to save what was left of Dick's face. Neither of them had enough sense at the time to hear him scream in agony, clawing at his eyes until they were nothing but pulp underneath his fingernails; but the echoes of it would have a chance to ring in Dick's ears anyway. The screaming didn't stop in France.

And it took Lew years to regain his old self, in both nerves and sight; and it took even longer than that for Dick to stop dreaming of scar tissue, gnarled and twisted and angry red, in place of dark brown eyes. The damage healed a lot slower than either of them have ever experienced before, and required more outside help than either of them were comfortable with. By the time the last of Lewis' sight had been restored to him, a whole decade and several new identities had gone by, and Dick had done his best to promise: no more fighting.

They made it through another decade before he broke that one. It barely felt like a blink of an eye.

And now, here they are again. Huddled together, blanketed by dark night, with each other's blood once again under their fingernails, a new scar on Lewis' forehead, and the tangible memory of a crater in the back of his head, where the bullet found its exit and his brains had spattered out of his skull.

"Hey," Lewis breathes, sensing the dark turn Dick's thoughts have gone and reaching out for him, touching his face with cold fingertips. "I'm sorry. That was a bad joke."

Yes. It was. But Dick is not going to reprimand him for it. He's learned that jokes are Lew's best defense against the weight of their prolonged existence. Just like drink. Just like nicotine. Or just like Dick himself, his only lone companion in this casually cruel world. How could Dick ever deny him this?

Tilting their heads together, Dick guides his lips to the new scar, and resolutely tries not to think about how much longer Lew bears the marks of his deaths, and what that might mean for him. "It'll be gone tomorrow," he says, more to himself than Lew. "You'll see. Like brand new."

"Like brand new," Lewis echoes. Resigned. Going boneless as he leans all his (dead) weight into Dick's arms and buries his face in his neck. "Always brand new."

Even against the heat of Dick's skin, Lew stays cold. Dick doesn't think he's ever known a time when he was warm.

--

Dick and Lewis were made immortal sometime between 58 and 50BC, when Rome waged war against Gaul, as explained in this deleted line: "Lewis was not made for warrior-hood like Dick had been, having gone from the luxury afforded to him by his roman senator father's fortune to a miserable roman centurion on the back of a single mistake alone. He'd known almost nothing the first time he'd fallen under Dick's Gaulic blade; that his own sword had pierced Dick's chest at the same time was a mere fluke he's since been unable to replicate."

[intertexts]

OKAY NHW THOUGHTS. SUFFER WITH ME !!!!

having a lot of thoughts and feelings as always about how virion sees himself as the one who has to be strong, who has to be the one to protect the other two . dakota may have had his powers for longer, but virion has more field experience. he's been trained how to fight his whole life. his family prepared him for this since the day he could stand on his own two feet. it's so deeply ingrained into him, he knows the ins and outs of cape politics, and while he may be an outsider in new haven he had plenty of experience in fauna and how much different can the two cities really be? I feel like he's faaaar less trustful of the heroes, can kind of see through their bullshit when it happens, but he doesn't make a move because now he has a team, now he has people he loves again, and he would do anything to keep them safe even if that means putting up with bureaucratic nonsense. he's got that vigilante blood in him!!! idk how long he was on his own but even if it was as short as a few months that's still PLENTY of time to pick up terrible habits in the name of keeping on his toes, keeping himself safe. gotta keep moving constantly. can't sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and the sleep he does get is VERY light. only ever wearing dark clothes and covering his face even out of costume. constantly keeping at least one concealed weapon on him. being SO hyperaware of any sound or sudden movement in the general vicinity. when hes with the other two he always places himself in the middle between them so he can easily grab both of them if he needs to. maybe walking a half step behind them to watch their backs. always situates himself with clear view of any doors/windows whenever theyre in an enclosed space. etc etc you see my vision!!!!!

im just thinking abt like... the first time william and dakota see him Without All That Tension. he probably looks like a totally different person! the whole time they've known him he's been this stoic quiet intimidating presence, he always stays awake longer than either of them so they've never seen him sleep. after one too many all-nighter volunteer patrols he passes on pizza for dinner and gets home before either of them. when they walk in later (leftover pizza for him ofc) and see him passed out fast asleep on the couch it almost takes them a second to recognize him . who is this.. soft faced *boy* curled up in a loose ball facing the door in their living room!! what if this is where williams crush really kicks in and becomes Real- he desperately wants to be able to make virion comfortable enough around him to make him look like that again. william is just frozen in the doorway staring at him, studying him, trying to commit the whole scene to memory, so dakota is the one who steps forward to put a blanket over him. virion wakes up IMMEDIATELY at this and the moment is kind of broken and he thanks them for the pizza and everything's back to normal but now they KNOW. do you SEE my vision here.

I hope ur malaise is a little better sorry this took me like an hour and a half to type i had 2 keep pausing bc I was getting emotional thinking about them auaghaguyghh

ohh having so many emotions about him.... yeah..... yeah..... the cape world is all he's ever known! of course he's more experienced, cynical, knows the procedures and conventions and lies better than they do. he's maybe the only one of them who's killed before. i think it fucks him UP to realize he loves william & dakota. how can he trust them? he does, he can't choose not to, but i think he's very scared for a very long time that they're going to betray him like his father betrayed his friends. "they sound like they really mean it" yeah well. so did his dad!! honestly i think it's a kind of let it happen situation. he thinks about it for a while and goes well. it's not like i have anything else. this, right now, is nice, so if i end up dead in my sleep about it? whatever. i like them. they're allowed. he's constantly waiting in the back of his mind for the cold gun to the back of his head while theyre hugging or a knife to his throat on the couch during a movie or for them to detour into a dark alley while they're walking somewhere. and it takes a very long time for him to lose this mindset. it would fuck the other two UP if they knew but he's very good at hiding it, both the fear & the decision to just let them do it, if they want to. virion sol willing vulnerability looks like anyone else's efficient dangerous capability and hypervigilance. (i think they Should find out that their best friend is always waiting for them to kill him. that would be a lot.)

anyway. distracted!! in my mind he was a rogue for at least, like, around a year. so much time for bad habits to sink in! the thing ive been thinking about is like, he never really had to be subtle? he's so good at disappearing into nowhere & being a sneaky ass creep on the job, he's alright at lying and social engineering if there was a situation where it was necessary, but he never like... had a civilian life! to him it was fine if he was mostly perceived as a thug or a contractor or just as suspicious as "deftly moving masked figure in black checking all the entrances to the coffee shop as he sits down or buying zip ties and gorilla tape and kerosene at lowes" implies. so like i think their manager or boss or handler has to go "hey dude you need to like. Not be walking exactly a step behind your friends checking your surroundings wherever u go. please stop moving like you're getting ready for a fight. it directs so much attention to u u are in high school ur supposed to be a kid ur setting off so many red flags!"& he doesn't really get it. and it's a thing.

ill over everything ur saying here btw!!!! actually fucked up over them seeing him without all those walls and facades & constant tension!! oh christ!! he's so intimidating even when he's not trying and knows so much and is so good at what they do-- he's. actually their age? he's really just some teenager like them? the crackling anxiety and hypervigilance aren't, just, like, part of him? all the tense lines and angles of him soften into just-- something normal and loose and comfortable?? that fic when???

[loveistrueblue]

hi guys, this is a post seeking advice from anyone who has experience with going nonverbal. my experience in particular is due to PTSD/trauma (possibly undiagnosed autism, i truthfully am not sure, i do not have the resources nor money at this moment in time to be able to get a diagnosis, but it’s something i have hoped to look into when i am able), but advice about going nonverbal in general, regardless of reason, still would be appreciated. i just genuinely don’t know where else to seek advice at the moment.

as i’ve mentioned in passing a couple of times here, i experienced a sexual assault a little over a year ago. it has been really difficult adjusting after that kind of an experience and it’s been a very slow process of trying to get my life back.

one of the things i have been struggling with has been this: my fight or flight feels, constantly, like it is activated. i truly feel like i’ve been stuck in fight or flight since the night it happened. i often feel extremely disregulated emotionally and like i’m living in extreme fear a good 80% of the time. this causes me to become easily overwhelmed. now, when i become overwhelmed, i have started shutting down and dissociating and i have started going nonverbal. i am unable to speak, even though it’s like i’m internally screaming and trying to. if i’m able to talk, it’s very few words, barely a sentence or two i’m able to get out. i’ll usually stutter or fumble or trip over my words in trying to get them out, if i’m even able to do that. it truly feels like a disconnect between the words in my brain and being able to articulate them out loud.

it’s been happening a lot in group settings, with my friends who i spend most of my free time with. they’re safe people to be around and i trust they want to help me how they can. the issue is, we are having a hard time navigating what to do/how to approach me going nonverbal. it often happens randomly, just when everything in my head starts becoming overwhelming and i start shutting down. it can be mid conversation and i just start going quiet and i don’t mean to, it’s like something out of my control, making it even scarier. i would sometimes experience this as a teenager/kid, but the difference then was i was a quiet child where it was less noticeable. now i am an adult who communicates verbally way more than i did when i was a kid. i guess i am in part struggling with the embarrassment of feeling a bit childish for being unable to communicate out loud too.

for further context, at this point, my friends know it is me going nonverbal and that it is an involuntary response. we are all collectively pretty much at a point we are trying to figure out how to navigate it happening though because we’re all a little new to it.

my questions/advice i am seeking is this:

what are ways you can communicate with the people you love when nonverbal and you’re all occupying the same physical space? is there resources/maybe any apps to help navigate a situation like that?

how do you talk to your friends about going nonverbal/is there anything you find helpful when you are nonverbal, especially if it’s from a flashback/disassociating due to trauma?

how do you handle/cope with feeling embarrassment and shame around going nonverbal?

any advice would be so so appreciated. thank you. 💙

(if the tone of my post is really formal, i apologize, i feel like i get more formal and serious when i’m nervous lol)

[linoone]

So in case people do not follow my twitter . Recently my mental health has been sorta bad due to a mix of things. Among them being (mostly) coming to terms with sexual trauma related to one of my exes and a very specific (non sexual) incident regarding him partially blaming my dads cat passing away for us breaking up, and how half a decade later im still miffed about it. But i realized i can bitch about it more freely on here.

Get the deets below Because its long

He actually responded to the post in a vague about an hour and a half later (since i said something specific about the kof main most associated with him, which i admit was quite petty, and i actually unblocked him some months ago for whatever reason) wishing his haters experienced "dreadful inconveniences". Which was very obviously about me, as from what i know, the guy does not have that many people who genuinely dislike him ... a nearly 27 year old man calling someone he coerced sexual images from a "hater". Regarding a situation that imo, any reasonable person would think "that's a fucked up thing to imply", even if you ignore the whole "subjecting said person to emotional manipulation & pressuring him into sending you images he didnt want to send" thing

That community, in all honesty, probably would not care about that if the whole truth came to light (when i spoke about it around the time it happened, they didnt, since i brought up l0lic0n & sh0tac0n that he is still a fan of. which somehow made the point moot) & thats another thing ive got to come to terms with. People generally will not care unless it affects them in some way. I was not the best in that relationship (partially due to regular suicidebaiting on his end and partially out of being emotionally drained), especially towards the end, but does that really justify anything that happened during or afterwards?

But last night i had a Moment (tm) where i was Real World Upset over it. Even though im coming to terms with it all, the ever-present knowledge ill never get closure - nor will he realize or care about the consequences of his actions - does hurt. Being in that relationship made the issues i have with sex worse somehow, despite it being completely digital. And its been rearing its ugly head this past month or so especially, due to the desire to have some types of relationships again

If anyone sends him this - i dont know how many people that are his acquaintances are even on this platform, or if theyd even follow my blog on here - i dont really give a fuck. Do what you want. Hes all but proven hes still keeping track of my twitter at the very least, and my ex wife said he had been keeping track of her profile when we were dating. Hes possibly done that to a few other people i know as well, both in and out of the fighting games community

[furiousgoldfish]

(seeking advice, for people who understand OSDD and DID well)

I've explained recently there's been a host change, and right now we understand a little more of what happened, and why the old host broke. It turns out that the primary protector was broken for a while, and decided to keep it quiet and just distance themselves away, which in turn eventually broke the host, who could not keep on going without a single protector in the system.

However, what we're trying to figure out right now is whether I'm an alter who is separate from the old host, or did I break off from the host, and split into a new one? I'm thinking this might have happened, because I seem to have all of the skills the old host has, I know what to do in the same way they did, I have extremely little memories, but I don't feel foreign in this body, it feels like I've been in here before, I have gotten used to the mirror reflection easily as well.

I have no memories of existing any second before I became the host. I have no idea where I've been or what have I been doing, and I have memories specifically just from the last few months. I keep getting flashbacks from primary school time and high school, but they're only flashes and moments, I can't seem to remember anything in detail, even if I have general context for what happened in life.

It also took me 3 days to realize that I was not the old host. Even without any memories or feelings, I just thought it was the stress getting to me and that I was the old host. I only realized it after 3 days have passed.

What is different from me and the old host is that I can easily control and manipulate the inner world, I can make or modify anything that's going on inside; the old host could not change a thing, not even with their greatest efforts. That is confusing. It feels like we might have been able to create and control the inner world, again around the end of primary school, beginning of high school, but since then, it's all been set in stone and untouchable. Until now.

I can more easily manage day-to-day life because I don't experience anxiety, stress, worry, or self doubt, the only feeling I experience continuously is anger. Some might have noticed that the posts are slightly more angry in tone since I took over.

I have empathy for the old host specifically, and not for anyone else. I believe that if I had existed before the break, I would not have allowed it. I would have prevented this. I can't imagine existing and not doing anything about it.

The other thing that leads me to believe we might have split, is the pain. When I first came to, I was experiencing unbearable amount of pain, the amount that would make anyone suicidal. I felt nothing about it as I have no feelings, but I acknowledged that it is the amount of pain that would make a person suicidal very fast. The old host would sometimes theorize that splitting must be extremely painful for a person, and would mourn the past instances where they felt they must have split, and tried to remember how it felt. I remember this pain vividly, and I do believe that it would kill us if the old host was not switched out.

The pain went away within a few hours after I took over and I've experienced severe depression for several days, unable to recall any non-traumatic memory. When I finally caught a positive memory, I came alive and was able to continue living while feeling generally neutral.

I am currently both the host, and the protector, and I'm holding a lot of trauma in me.

What are the odds that the old host split in two and I'm the half that feels no emotions, and has no memories, except those instantly relevant to the current situation? Would I, in any way know this is the case? How would I check it?

[aesethewitch]

#OcculTea - Introduction & Topic 1: Impact on Community

Introduce yourself. How long have you been participating in the witchcraft online space? What practices and topics do you discuss primarily?

Introduction

I’m Aese! I’ve been a witch for… oh, what, 14 years? 15 years? Something like that. Some of my earliest spellwork was almost 20 years ago (which is so wild to think about), but I didn’t pick up the witchcraft label until late high school. I only started participating in online witchcraft spaces a few years ago. Honestly, it was god damn witchtok that got me into the online community at the tail end of 2019. The public rise of witchcraft made me realize how much I missed being really dedicated to my practice, as I’d let it stagnate and sort of fizzle for several years at that point. So, I refocused my efforts and ended up here!

Much of what I talk about involves divination, spirit work, practical magic, and recipes. I sort of go in cycles, you may have noticed! I tend to post about whatever I’m currently interested in. If I’m writing about something, it’s likely because I’m actively doing a working related to that subject. I enjoy discussing theory most of all!

Topic 1: Impact on Community

What is my personal reasoning/inspiration behind sharing my practice online?

It’s tough for me to maintain focus and interest on things by myself. It’s far easier to stay invested in something when I’m actively discussing it with other people. Thus, Tumblr! Even if I’m talking to no one, just casting thoughts into the ether, it feels like I’m engaging with someone out there who’s just as interested as I am in the things I’m doing. I engage with the online witchcraft community for the same reasons I engage with online fandom: inspiration, ideas, connection, and motivation.

I do also enjoy troubleshooting and sharing solutions with people. I do sometimes post 101-type content, but I far prefer when I get to answer a specific question or address a really particular situation. It’s why I read tarot for the public — questions asked and answered. It’s fun and satisfying. Much of my practice I learned by trial and error, and by collaborating with others; I don’t read a lot of witchcraft books. The things I share come from spirits, friends who practice, history and nature, and good old fashioned “been there done that” logic. I like sharing those experiences with people, both teaching and learning as I go along.

What am I looking to achieve by participating? Do I seek to educate, learn or connect?

I mean, sort of all three! Though, honestly, it’s less about educating and more about offering information and experiences. I don’t really see myself as an “educator” so much as someone who’s experienced a lot and has stuff to say about those experiences. Anything I publish, even if it’s in the style of a 101 lesson, comes from personal experience. None of it is authoritative, no matter how confident my tone is. (Which is, incidentally, just how I type. And talk. Default Mode.)

The nice thing about Tumblr is that ideas get passed around readily. When one person posts something or asks a question, other similar posts and perspectives tend to pop up. You read a post and go “oh, I have thoughts about that!” And then you either reblog or reply with a response, or you make your own post and tag it for others to see. And then someone else does the same thing, and so on and so forth. So when I publish something from my perspective, offering up information, it’s likely that someone else will have a thought and create their own post on the subject. Then, I get to read about it and learn something! It’s great.

How do I believe social media, as a whole, has impacted the community?

Oh, hugely. Massively. Social media plays an integral part in most people’s regular lives at this point, of course it influences the witchcraft community, too!

In a general sense, there’s a pressure to share more and more about ourselves and our practices. Folks want content that’s accessible, but they also want to know the person sharing all this information on a more personal level, too. Thanks to witchcraft’s popularity rising in the last handful of years, we have a ton of beginners entering the scene. And because they’re coming from social media that prioritizes The Algorithm and shock-based interactions, a lot of those beginners have set expectations for how information is presented.

And yet, on the other hand, there’s an odd disconnect between folks who put out content and their audiences, both here on our blogs and elsewhere in the social media sphere. Some folks forget that we’re not repositories of information; we aren’t automatic machines that are going to have a perfect solution or exact answer for everyone. We’re people with interests outside of our practices — and sometimes, with interests within our practices that we don’t talk about.

But even beyond the communities and the personalities existing on the platforms, the real issue is with the platforms themselves. The primary thing to remember is that social media apps and sites are products. They’re machines designed to generate revenue for the people who own them. That means they don’t particularly care about the quality of content; they care about what gets people to pay attention, to click an ad, to give interaction, to spend more and more time on the platform.

Algorithms exist to encourage certain types of content: urgent, alarming, exciting. If it doesn’t get a reaction, it doesn’t get attention. And the more details you put in, the less likely random people are going to be to stop their endless scrolling and watch (or read, as the case may be). Thus, nuance dies.

And when nuance dies in one place, it dies everywhere else, because that’s what people come to expect. They want clear-cut, easy answers that they can pick up and digest without thought. There’s no room for gray areas or questions or uncertainty. They want to Know, empirically and without a doubt, that they’re Right. And they want it to be Simple and Unchallenging and Already Thought Out For Them.

How do I think social platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube have each impacted education/sharing information?

It would be easy to point fingers at TikTok for the decline of quality educational content, and I think we’d be right to in many ways. Fast-paced, short-form video content is a good way to churn out lots of bite-sized information all at once. But like I mentioned above, it’s not fabulous when it comes to nuance. It’s why I left TikTok altogether, honestly. And yes, Tumblr is the Piss On The Poor website. I know. However, I still hold that this website, this platform, is superior to a lot of other options currently out there when it comes to easily-accessible, long- and short-form content.

Content creators are, in many ways, part of the content the audience is consuming. It’s a bigger issue on other platforms, particularly YouTube and TikTok, but we see it here on Tumblr, too. The personality someone presents impacts the interactions they get on their posts. This means that popular creators, who so often drive community discussions and direction, are more careful about what they share. It creates an atmosphere of Us and Them, Creator and Audience, and that’s not always conducive to conversation.

The boon of Tumblr is that the primary function of the site is passing information (posts) around and adding your thoughts to that information (reblogs, replies, tags). Websites exist out there where witches publish their research and thoughts, but they often don’t offer space for conversation to occur. And that’s fine; not everyone wants commentary and discussion on their stuff. Me, though, I thrive on it.

YouTube is a fine platform, too. You get a ton of good content on there, witches sharing their unique practices and paths and cultures from all over the world. You get a lot of bullshit, too, don’t get me wrong. Videos on YouTube have more room for longer explanations, links to resources, and visual representations of what each creator is working on. You’re not getting flashes of half-second clips of a spell; you’re getting a full breakdown of materials and construction with a scripted voice-over explaining the how and why. You’re getting nuanced histories and reviews that aren’t rushed by a crushing time constraint.

At the same time, the Algorithm rules YouTube, and it’s constantly changing. Certain content does better, and that’s defined by whatever gets the most ad views. Google is a behemoth that’s hell-bent on squeezing every dollar it can out of the viewer and out of its product: the content creators. If a creator isn’t bowing and scraping to The Algorithm’s almighty power, their videos are often buried and left to languish. A determined viewer can certainly find them, but they won’t be recommended on the home page or in the side bar of videos — which, let’s be honest, is where most of us discover new content on YouTube.

All of this is to say that educational content isn’t… gratifying, for The Algorithm. It doesn’t generate clicks, it doesn’t get ad money, and it doesn’t benefit The Company. In order to make ends meet, creators have to seek out advertisers who get to dictate the content of the videos (no swearing, no explicit topics, no this, no that). They have to choose their words carefully. They have to market perfectly, create obnoxious thumbnails, write clickbait titles… It seems exhausting, and I’m never more glad than while watching these creators struggle against it that my own meager attempts to become a YouTuber circa 2011 failed spectacularly.

There, too, I think Tumblr is great. Yeah, we have ads and bots and weird shit that goes on with the CEO every so often and alarming moderation problems. This site has a multitude of issues that we ought to be vocal about. But the people of Tumblr are feral. We hate ads, we hate injustice, we hate grifting, we hate the nonsense that makes places like TikTok popular. It makes us unprofitable in a lot of ways, but it also makes this platform feel more authentic and easy to engage with because there’s very little pressure to churn out nothing-posts for engagement (shitposting notwithstanding, as those have their rightful place in the Post Ecosystem).

Then again, clickability and aesthetics have a powerful hold on content creators, even here on Tumblr. Pretty pictures get lots of attention. Short, quippy shitposts get reblogs out the ass. Long, painstakingly researched, heartfelt passion projects get… less. Aesthetics win out over actually-useful content.

I blame Instagram (and Pinterest, in a way) for that, honestly. Staged, too-pretty altars that have never seen a speck of chalk or dirt or use surrounded by beautiful hundred-dollar candles all lit at the same time are deeply, deeply unrealistic. Simplified infographics misrepresenting the complexity of witchcraft abound. We (and I do mean we; I fall victim to this, too) desperately want the Ideal Life. We want the Ideal Practice. Aesthetics can be important to set the mood and enhance power flow, but photoshoot-ready set-ups aren’t practical. It hardly matters when it comes to engagement, though.

#relatable #want #witchy #witchyaesthetic #dreamhome #dreamaltar #dreamdreamdreamdreamdream

I could probably go on for a long time about algorithms and clickbait and the nonsense it all brings. But the essence of it is this: The expectation of perfect, photographable, digestible, beginner-centric, unproblematic, algorithm-friendly content is a killer to people like me, who want to make genuine connections with real people about the things we’re really doing. I see complaints all the time on Tumblr about the lack of Original Content, but our Original Content doesn’t get interactions. If it doesn’t get interactions, it seems like no one cares.

If you want to see something from your favorite blogger, interact with them directly. Bring back ask culture! Send an anonymous ask if you’re shy! Leave a reply asking a question or saying thank you! Reblog the stuff you like with tags or additions asking for more or making conversation! Liking posts on Tumblr doesn’t really do anything; it’s the reblogs that spread stuff around and encourage more engagement. People putting stuff up on this website aren’t entertainers. (Well, alright, some of us are, but for the most part…) We’re people looking for connection, same as you.

Is consuming witchcraft content becoming a substitute for practice?

Oh, now this is a solid question. I think, for some folks, the answer is yes.

It’s all too easy to get caught up in the social media trance. Scrolling forever, reading and watching and consuming — it’s all designed to capture and keep your attention, after all. I’ve certainly had that happen. I’ll find that I haven’t cast a spell or done an actual working in a while, and when I wonder why that is, it’s because I’ve spent a bunch of time scrolling and watching videos without getting up and Doing The Thing.

And that’s okay sometimes. If I’m sick or exhausted or just not feeling it, reading witchy posts and watching witchcraft YouTube is an easy way to engage with the craft. But I do have to remind myself that watching and reading alone won’t get the job done. The only way to do magic is to do it.

I equate it to watching people play The Sims instead of playing it myself. I do love the game, but I don’t always have the time or energy needed to sit down and play. Watching others build houses and create Sims and do challenges satisfies The Urge well enough, but it isn’t the same as actually playing. And yet, that’s okay, isn’t it? If that’s my preferred way to engage with The Sims, who cares? At some point, it does become “my hobby is watching YouTube videos of The Sims” rather than “my hobby is playing The Sims,” but… well, that line is mine to define. “My hobby is The Sims” is generic enough to give me that space, and it’s nobody’s business what I mean by that.

It really all comes down to how people want to interact with witchcraft. If that’s from a purely aesthetic, distant perspective, that’s fine! If it’s down in the trenches, trailblazing new theories and methods, also fine! So long as what they’re doing isn’t actively harmful (spreading bigotry, appropriation, dangerous suggestions, etc.), who cares? I’ve seen @/upthewitchypunx define a witch as someone who practices witchcraft and self-identifies as one. “Practice” in this case is defined by the witch in question. Mine won’t match yours; to each their own.

For example, by my own definitions, if I were to stop the active parts of my practice (casting spells, performing rituals, observing holidays, and so forth), I wouldn’t call myself a witch anymore. Even if I were still consuming witchcraft content, if I wasn’t actively practicing, I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling myself a witch any longer. But if that consumption is active practice to someone else (whether because that’s all they’re able to do or because that’s all they want to do), that’s their business to call themselves whatever they want.

With that said, I think the primary issue with “consumption as practice” is that it can only go so far. One’s witchcraft won’t really develop if you’re only ever going off of what other people say. It takes a very real amount of work and thought to put a witchcraft practice together. At some point, if the only thing you’re doing is consuming someone else’s practice, you’ll likely run into the issue of stagnation.

Stagnating is frustrating. There’s a large focus on beginner-level witchcraft in a lot of spaces, because of the massive (Algorithm-friendly) demand for it. But also, as crafts and paths advance, they become more and more personalized to the individual. Unfortunately, there isn’t a simple, one-way ticket to the intermediate. In my opinion, you can’t Consume your way there. It’s fine if you’re content to let your practice be as it is. But if you do find yourself wondering why you aren’t learning or progressing at all, and you’re trying hard to exit the Beginner Phase but can’t quite get there, think about what constitutes your practice. What are you doing to push yourself forward?

But again, after much thought and deliberation, I don’t think it matters. It isn’t my business what you’re up to, anymore than it’s your business what I’m up to. If you’re happy, it’s all good. Just remember that if you actually want to Get Good at witchcraft, content creators won’t be able to pull your practice forward for you forever.

Noting, of course, that none of this includes the odd variety of person who might maintain a witchcraft blog, post original witchcraft content, and otherwise position themselves as a knowledgeable witch… and not actually be one at all. This, I think, is where the term poser comes in handy. I can think of at least one instance of this sort of thing being uncovered. For this type of person, I can’t help but wonder what the actual goal is. Is it attention? Is it the intentional spread of misinformation? Is it the power to shape belief? Is it money?

Who knows?

This is part one of a series! Click here to view the masterpost to see all #OcculTea posts in this series. Replies, reblogs, and asks on any or all of the topics covered in this post series are very much welcome.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Skyrim favorites! 2 parts!

Answer one or more of these as either Teldryn or Sydari!

And then ofc give us your favorites, too! 20.   favorite weapon?

23.   favorite faction?

24.   favorite creature?

26.   favorite ability?

Answering as both since they both have their own opinions on this. Throwing in some Morrowind references too...coz reasons.

I'm dropping a fic easter egg in here! :D

20. Favourite Weapon.

Sydari unsheathes a curious dagger from her boot and places it on the table. The metal is unnaturally dark and the weapon itself seems to hum. There's daedric lettering etched into the centre of the blade.

"This little thing has gotten me out of more sticky situations than I can count. The enchantment is a little temperamental but the blade never dulls." She looks over at the Dunmer seated beside her, he raises an eyebrow as he stares apprehensively at the blade. She carefully places the dagger back in its sheath and smiles at him.

"He hates Daedric shit."

Teldryn shakes his head and slumps a little in his seat.

"I don't hate Daedric shit, I just," He scratches the bridge of his nose before taking another sip of the beverage beside him. It elicits a slightly disgusted look, "Miluth forgets that I've had my fair share of interactions with Daedra, all have consequences that I am no longer interested in experiencing." He looks down the hallway and smiles to himself, "Not any more."

"Oh, that's bullshit Tel! Your favourite weapon of all time was that weird crescent sword you took from that Dremora Lord," Sydari jeered, "Tell them that story!"

Teldryn shakes his head, "It's locked away in the armoury for a reason." He makes a sign with his hands that implies "little fingers".

"He stabbed a god with it!"

"Did I?"

(I love the design for Daedric weaponry in TES, something about it is so badass).

23. Favourite faction.

Sydari rests her feet on the table and sighs, "I'm a Nightingale."

Teldryn laughs, "She runs the Thieves Guild!"

Sydari throws a crust of bread at him and laughs in return, "And he thinks building tents in the yard and putting lamps in the window qualifies as a personality trait!"

"That one is a worthy cause and teaching her to build a yurt is a great way to pass the time."

"And attracts the attention of half the town."

"It's a dying art"

Sydari smiles back at him, "I know".

(I play the Thieves Guild questline in Skyrim a lot and Josh is very much an Ashlander projection on my part. He's also a member of Twin Lamps, a faction that has grown on me quite a bit! Yes I did say I'd throw Morrowind into this, can't do anything as instructed lol)

24. Favourite creature.

Sydari smiles, "I have always loved rabbits. They're so cute! I find the netch that float across the island to be fascinating."

"You've never had one of those things puke on you. It's foul." Teldryn takes another drink of the odd beverage beside him and grimaces. He pats the large, olive-green carapace of the nix hound at his feet.

"That's because I've never thrown a whole bottle of Sujamma at one you s'wit!"

"Language!" Teldryn tuts, a smile plastered across his thin features, "I heard her say fetcher the other day! Where did she pick that up?"

"She probably picked it up from you at the market last week! You called Fethis one because you think that he overcharged you for that glass tube you insisted on importing from the mainland."

"That's because Fethis is a dick!" Teldryn sighed and leaned back in his chair, "He's a dick Sydari."

"Language Sero, language."

Teldryn shakes his head, "I like big dogs."

"He likes cats."

"Shhhhhh!"

(I can't choose animals, I like most of them tbh so the above is a selection. I personally love the calls of silt striders and I think netch are cute.)

26. Favourite ability.

Both elves look at each other.

"Invisibility"

(I play stealth characters as a general rule, it's fun!)