#in the war who should be grateful to be used. the fact that they imply to be worthy of being on his dinner table is ludicrous

[archduke-enver-gortash]

imagining a scene between enaza and gort, enaza making some sort of off-handed comment about being way more deserving of the true ‘dark urge’ title as well, and gort’s just like. i know he’d pretend to have a laughing fit and then suddenly show them his true core for the first time, the harsh and cold aura of domination and conquest of the machine, and starts choking them. when they start begging for forgiveness with all the air they have left and kneeling in front of him when he drops them to the ground, they realise the lesson that was being taught that evening.

[avocado-writing]

we need a rewrite of the tiefling party where tav can actually convince wyll to join the party and have fun please 🥹

notes: love love love writing for Wyll. he's such a sweetie! Implied bard reader but not explicit.

rating: T, but there will be a spicy part 2 coming up!

The party is lively and your head is swimming from the buzz of attention. That, and the small amount of wine you’ve had: not so much as to dull your senses but enough to make you merry. Warmed with Arkhen’s Hoard you take a break from the grateful tieflings and head out towards the familiar babble of the river. The further from camp you go the quieter your surroundings get, and you’re able to breathe a little more easily knowing there aren’t half a dozen children hanging on your every word. It’s lovely to be the centre of attention because you helped them, but a little overwhelming with all those eyes on you.

Of course, that’s not the only reason that you’ve come wandering over this way.

Wyll sits with his legs crossed on the bank, staring at the way the water dances under the moonlight. He seems at peace, the calmest he’s been since Mizora appeared and sprouted those horns for him; shoulders relaxed, tensionless. 

“Wondered where you were,” you say, quietly. You don’t want to make him jump after all. It hurts your heart to see the way that his body stiffens when he hears your voice. Ah: there’s the tension again. Nevertheless, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips - but one with a hint of sadness. You’ve studied his face enough in camp in order to know when he’s trying to hide something. It makes your heart ache bitterly that he would try and hide it from you, though. 

“Thought I’d be able to sneak away. Should have known you’d be able to find me.”

You take a seat next to him in the grass. It’s a soft spot he’s managed to pick, not wet from its proximity to the river, but green and lush from its plentiful feeding. You lock eyes with him and press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded.

“Wyll! You make me sound like I’m a bloodhound tracking you down, not someone who cares about you checking in.”

He laughs, and you see him begin to lighten again. When he smiles this time, it’s sincere.

“That’s not what I meant. Apologies. Just that I’m not surprised you know me well enough to guess where I’d end up.”

“Down by the river,” you hum, fingers suddenly itching for the feel of a lute’s strings. 

“You’re always singing that, you know?”

“I am, it’s a good song. I’ve never once heard you complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining! I never would, I love to hear you sing. Since I joined you on this journey, my life has been filled with so much music. It’s been wonderful.”

You put your hands behind you and lean back on them, allowing your face to become level with his. He looks into your eyes and, this close, you can see his breath hitch a little when your fingers brush together.

“I could be persuaded to do an impromptu performance, but I’d need my favourite person in the front row to give me courage.”

“I’m sure that you don’t need me for that. Courage is the one thing you couldn’t possibly lack.”

“To be my muse, then.”

You know if you lifted your hand and felt his cheek, it’d be warm.

“Please, Wyll,” you continue, softly. “Please come and join us. Everybody wants you there. Me especially, if I’m being selfish.”

“Ah…” you can see he’s warring with himself. On one side of the argument, he longs to indulge you. On the other side…

“I’m not sure. I think people may find me off-putting.”

You furrow your brow.

“You? The single most charming man I’ve ever met?”

Another flash of shyness over his face. You can tell that he enjoys the compliment, but his self-doubt wins out.

“Perhaps I was, before the horns.”

“Oh, Wyll. Do you think anybody up there cares about those? A group of your friends and people you fought tooth and nail to protect? I know for a fact that Karlach wants to challenge you to a drinking game.”

“That seems like more of a reason to hide! I think she’d drink me under one of the tables,” Wyll grimaces, and smiles when you laugh at his silliness. He seems a little more open to the idea, but still not completely sold.

“I don’t know… just… the children…”

“The children who love you and hang on your every word? Umi won’t stop asking me where you are, and someone needs to keep Mol in line…”

“I doubt even the gods themselves can do that.”

When he chuckles you find yourself reaching out to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp ridge that was raised there when Mizora cursed him. His eyes widen and glaze over before sliding closed, nuzzling into the gesture, soul laid bare to the sweetness of your touch. 

 “Nobody feels unsettled by you. Nobody is afraid of you.”

His lips fall apart, anticipating the way you reach in to kiss him.

It’s a soft kiss. Lips dancing slowly, a waltz, noses bumping together a little, his horns grazing your hairline. Your heart soars at it.

When it’s over you sit there and breathe together. Sharing the same air, letting your blood thrum through you in an intertwined heartbeat.

“Will you come and join us? Will you come and dance with me?” you ask.

Wyll loses the argument with himself.

“Yes.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[natureboy96]

Pro Feyre, Pro Tamlin, Pro canon, Pro Tolerance of differing opinions discussion (NOT SHIPPING)

Over the past few months that I've been in this fandom, I've become more and more critical of character actions in the texts, including Feyre. I don't care much for the lack of self reflection her character does for her actions, nor how the narrative tends to wash their hands of any real repercussions for them (at least, ones that she/ the Night Court have to face). That being said, I've been thinking a lot about the end of ACOWAR, especially in terms of people who choose not to give Tamlin any grace and hate on the parts of the fandom who do. a large part of these arguments come down to personal feelings and what happens in canon.

After the war, when all is said and done, this is what Feyre thinks and says to/about Tamlin:

Feyre does not forgive Tamlin for the pain he caused, and she doesn't actively push to be in her life (though the way she says it, she does seem to imply she would've wanted to say this in person before Tamlin left. What she does say is that she doesn't hate him anymore, and that she genuinely wants him to be well and find happiness.

The abuse that Tamlin committed on Feyre is constantly used as a blanket statement to explain why he doesn't deserve to be happy, and yet Feyre, the character who was directly affected by this abuse, states clearly that she doesn't hate him, and wants him to be happy. If the argument against Tamlin being happy is because of canon, why is this part of the canon not regarded? Is what Feyre wants no longer important because she isn't angry anymore?

Is it because other characters in the text, like Rhysand and Nesta, express anger and hatred towards Tamlin, then? Rhysand being spiteful and unable to forgive doesn't change the fact that Feyre wants him to find happiness and be better. If characters in the actual text, who have actually/directly been affected by Tamlin's actions, are able to have differing opinions on if he should find happiness, why is it so controversial that the people reading the text feel the same way?

If Feyre were a real person, made an anonymous tumblr account and posted what she said at the end of the book, that she wished for Tamlin to be happy and that she was grateful for the things he did for her, would she be called an abuse apologist for it? Would she have to explain why, even though she doesn't forgive him for the pain he caused, that she still recognizes the good that he did?

If you're projecting your own abuse onto a character in a text who has never actually done anything to you irl, why is it an issue that other people don't have the same viewpoint? Why should one person's life experience be put above another's? Just because a viewpoint is shared by a majority doesn't make a minority's experience less valid. Even if there was a single person who liked a character, that wouldn't make their experience with the text less valid than everyone else's.

By choosing to be insulting to what other people feel/believe/have experienced with this text, you're not defending anyone: all you're doing is tearing down someone else's experience because you don't feel it's valid. You don't have to agree with someone else's experience, you can viscerally dislike it even. But you can also choose not to tear people down because you don't agree with them. If you are actively insulting people for having differing opinions, calling them names and judging their actual character because of their opinions on a book,

you are being abusive!

Treat people with respect, agree to disagree if their take on the text is different than yours, and if you're genuinely triggered by people liking a fictional character, then don't interact with them.

[greenerteacups]

Hey, doesn't Draco get his own little nod of 'I guess we're cool now' from Harry.... in the 19 years later epilogue I like to pretend doesn't exist? Seriously, the wasted potential of Draco Malfoy as a character / foil! This is why I'm so grateful Lionheart exists as a canon AU!

I had to look this up in my copy, but the funny thing is, he actually doesn't! draco nods at harry when they're seeing their kids off at ol' Platform 9.75, but harry never responds, and draco turns away before the two can interact:

Draco caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny staring at him, nodded curtly, and turned away again.

this is the last thing that draco malfoy ever does in the books. it's a very strange gesture. because on the one hand, it implies they've made peace and achieved a level of professional civility — at any other point in the books, draco would have shown nowhere near even this bare-minimum level of politeness for harry. but also, ron's lingering vitriol towards draco ("so that's little scorpius... make sure you beat him in every test, rosie") implies that they're far from friends.

there is, of course, the fact that harry saves draco in the burning Room of Requirement, which is arguably the closest the books come to any statement of sympathy for draco: a sort of halfhearted, "yeah, he's not a good person, but he doesn't deserve to die a fiery death." which is something, at least. there's also a sort of neat line drawn between him and crabbe, who does die in the ROR fire, but crabbe does it out of active malice and ignorance, whereas draco seems just to be reluctantly following orders. that reluctance, combined with his refusal to identify harry earlier in the book, is what seems to save him. so it's not a total loss.

but this is my problem with the epilogue in general: nineteen years is a crazy long amount of time. insanely long. so long that most of these characters should be unrecognizable to us based on where they were in 1997, as should their dynamics. and so there's this tonal dissonance that arises when you realize that the Golden Trio all remember draco well enough to have a quiet moment of staring on the platform, they know his son's name, and they know his wife, too: the narration says he's there "with his wife and son," not "a woman who must have been his wife," or "a woman who seemed to be his wife," or anything else to suggest harry didn't recognize her. so clearly they know of each other and have had contact since the end of the war. but what on earth is that nod supposed to tell us NOW? it should have happened at the end of the battle of hogwarts, when it actually would have made sense and represented some acknowledgement of harry saving his life! that would have made sense in context! but after nineteen years, it means absolutely nothing, because we have no idea what their dynamic is anymore! it doesn't work.

[arbitrarygreay]

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Absolute least favorite trope in the fic: inserting new world-building so that the controversial actions that Alder does in canon are all rationalized into woobie-bait. Examples: "Alder was forced into the Biddy bond!" "The Martyrdom was actually a lesser evil!" "Alder felt regret about signing the Accords!" "Alder was forced into doing things by men in power!" Since fucking when has the US military been meaningfully held accountable for anything, or their power (and the military industrial complex) had a reduction in growth? Name me one irl modern general that doesn't believe wholeheartedly in militarism. The nation can do much wrong by the rank and file (including appalling treatment of veterans), but the brass? Hah. And neither do the brass of the MFS military waver in their belief in militarism, either. We know that they could play malicious compliance via things like Tally's dispensation if they wanted to. They don't want to. The "magical enforcement" didn't stop Dodgers from existing, nor did it stop Nicte from deserting. The slow-play of the invasion of the Cession could have just as easily been done in their deployments in other nations, or in their hunting of Dodgers (like Scylla's parents). (Even Anacostia doesn't have a problem with torturing Scylla for information. "Gotta break a few eggs." No one agitates for the closure of GuantanamoSt. Dominique, either. There's no doubt in my mind that MFS's detention centers carry the same controversies as our world's.) No. Alder not only has no regrets about the Accords, she believes in them. She truly believes that all witches under her jurisdiction should serve, and that it is an honor to do so. She believes in the concept of glory in battle, and wishes for her soldiers to, as well. Alder's instinct is to hide inconvenient information from the chain of command and the public, which further proves that if she wanted to commit malicious compliance and covertly get around the wishes of those in power, she could, but she chose not to because she doesn't have a problem with the Accords or the wars she's been in. Most relevantly, Alder maintained the conflict of the Spree as an alternative to nationalist conflict. Letting the Spree propagate was her solution to Liberia. That is how she thinks, not even the smallest inkling that maybe she could modify the Accords and aim for our world's progressive strategy of pushing anti-discrimination policies and full civilian population integration/equality/equity. The idea of de-militarization is borderline anathema to her. She doesn't see conscription as slavery at all, but an honorable duty. Someone who says "I never needed The Hague's approval for my actions. I simply extend the invitation to accept my rulings." has a particular relationship to power. If the director of the CIA said this, we would not pretend that they are laboring under the yoke of anyone. Nah, that's just plain ol' mundane deep state. (Meanwhile, in 3x4 the scene with Alder and the Marshal shows that she definitely did not take on or continue using the Biddy working under duress. She's grateful for it, he's not morally indicted for using it, and they called the exchange "sharing." In fact, that might even imply that the Marshal could have been willing to share the Working without the deal, but Alder negotiated the creation of the Cession as thanks.) These characters are so much more interesting when they are allowed to do women's wrongs, for this show to explore how a world of alternative supremacy means that those alternative figures of power will still commit the same ethical pitfalls with it. Let them commit war crimes, as a treat! The relationships are so much more interesting when they have to grapple with real universal flaws instead of hand-waving them with "[other demographic]'s prejudice made me do it."

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

okay, I want to hear about your thoughts on Renesmee wanting to eat Edward?? What's up with that. Also would love to hear about your opinion on this child in general. All the people in her life are hardcore projecting on her, what's the alien child's perspective on all this shit. Thanks for all the twilight meta its wild.

Thank you, glad you enjoy my rambling, strange, thoughts.

What’s Up With Renesmee Devouring Her Enemies?

So, this one’s actually a bit of headcanon on my end, not really supported by anything directly. We’re going way into left field with this.

But I do have this. Renesmee is a highly efficient predator, perhaps in a way more so than the vampire (although she is weaker and slower than vampires) and Renesmee is... not human, for whatever that means.

Everything we see of Renesmee’s early biological development, and what we see happening in Nahuel and his sisters, makes a lot of sense from a biological standpoint.

The mother is turned essentially into a hybrid incubator, such that even if she wanted to abort she likely would not be able to or would not survive it. The child grows at a rapid rate in the room and has to eat itself out, at which point it has a starter meal of the human mother. The child then grows absurdly rapidly to the point where, mentally and physically, it can survive on its own. Growth then slows and then stops when sexual maturity is reached, presumably for reproductive purposes.

Vampires cannot do a few things. They are a half-sterile race, only able to reproduce through humans and the previously male half of the human species. They also need external help to kill a fellow vampire. In other words, they have to light a fire.

Until you burn the pieces, the enemy vampire isn’t dead. Now, using fire as a tool is to date something only the human species has figured out. It is not intuitive and an odd coincidence that vampires had this prerequisite knowledge (I have thoughts on what vampirism even is and where it comes from). 

I imagine, just as Renesmee presumably has reproductive capabilities that vampires lack, she also a has a toolset that vampires lack: the ability to kill a vampire without the need for fire. 

Given that Renesmee’s able to eat human food, this implies she has a digestive that is able to break down nutrients. The reason vampires can’t eat other vampires is they lack this. Edward swallows pizza, he’s vomiting that shit back up three hours later and it’s going to be very solid and very gross. Whatever venom did to his innards, most of his vital human organs aren’t working anymore.

Given that Renesmee’s this mix of venom and who knows what kinds of fluids I believe her stomach is capable of breaking down and digesting vampire flesh. This seems to me the most obvious way to eliminate an enemy vampire when no tools are otherwise available.

Hence, instinctively, if Renesmee wants to murder Edward she will eat him.

(Also, as you can tell, the image is just horrifyingly delightful to me, and so it’s my go to response.)

As for why she would want to eat him, see here and here.

The Family and Renesmee

As you note, everyone in Renesmee’s life projects someone else onto her.

Not so much Carlisle, he just seems very bewildered and overwhelmed by everything at first, and one of the few who openly notes how not human Renesmee is and the implications of this (given the chromosome experiment, I’m sure Carlisle was expecting a squid).

Even in the early stages though we see Edward, Bella, Alice, and Rosalie as primary offenders. (I’d list Esme except Esme is... being Esme about it, so, she’s just floating through Renesmee’s life like her Cullen ghost self and not even at the point where she can project anything onto her. Besides, that’s what Edward’s for.)

Edward sees the best of both himself and Bella in Renesmee, a little intellectual who reads War and Peace at a few weeks old when she has no understanding of the concepts of War, Napoleon, Russia, or Peace. As Edward always does, he so obliviously projects onto her, that I imagine it doesn’t matter what Renesmee says or does around him and she quickly figures that out.

Bella’s left the planet. Renesmee’s this beautiful thing, that looks like Edward, that is her daughter. Bella has no idea what parenting is. She’s floating through life preparing herself to become Esme 2.0. It’s not so much that she projects onto Renesmee but that she... completely fails to connect her to reality. Renesmee is a concept to Bella. Renesmee might figure this out, but given her feelings for her mother, I imagine she’s far more conflicted about it. She probably wishes things could be different between them, and often tries to find ways to make it so, it just never works.

Alice treats Renesmee much as she treated Bella, as her little doll that she can dress in cute clothing. Beyond that, Renesmee is a nuisance who messes with Alice’s gift. Oh, Alice likes her well enough, but I don’t see them having an actual meaningful conversation or connection.

Rosalie’s probably the wort offender in the projection domain. She is absolutely projecting the ideal human child she never had onto Renesmee. When Renesmee inevitibly fails to live up to these perfect standards, which even a human child wouldn’t, I imagine Rosalie will get increasingly upset. Acknowledging Renesmee isn’t what she wanted either would probably break Rosalie, so she’s not going to do that, and instead try to get Renesmee to behave correctly. For however much she cares about Renesmee, I imagine Renesmee sours on her growing up, as she knows she will never be what Rosalie wishes she was. Grateful that Rosalie helped keep her alive, of course, but... she would also probably wonder, as fandom does, just how much Rosalie was hoping Bella would die in birth (for the record, I think this might have been an idle fantasy of Rosalie’s, but I don’t think she’d go this far.)

Then of course, there’s Jake. Woof, Jake. As I linked above, I think Renesmee will slowly become more and more disenchanted with Jake. She’ll either learn about or suspect her own gift, have no interest in having a romantic relationship with him, or learn about his checkered past with her mother. More Jake is...

Imprinting, at a very large distance, sounds nice but imagine what that means. You have this person who is utterly dependent on you, who will do whatever you want and be whatever you wish them to be. In other words, you have this codependent person you can never get rid of who is never authentic. They will never say no to you, will always do what you wish, and if you dare to tell them you want a little time to yourself they will probably combust into flames.

That’s not a good relationship for anyone: imprinter or imprintee.

Jake, in a sense, ceases to be a real person when it comes to Renesmee. Renesmee will figure that out and then... why should she live her life just to make this miserable man who once tried to murder her happy?

What Does This Do to Renesmee?

I imagine Renesmee grows up feeling very isolated.

She doesn’t really belong in the Cullens, for all that they’re the best fit she has. She certainly doesn’t belong with other imprintees in the tribe (and whatever occasional function she goes to with the Quileutes is probably a complete disaster), and she’s not human either.

I imagine her strongest relationships are Charlie Swan (who beyond the surrealness of his life I imagine takes Renesmee at very face value), Carlisle Cullen (who also seems to not project onto Renesmee and takes her at face value), and Bella (who she desperately wants a stronger relationship with but Bella’s not listening).

Well, Charlie at some point will die. He will not choose immortality. I imagine Renesmee never quite understands why he was allowed to choose death or what the purpose of the human species even is. To her, they are caterpillars who never went into the chrysalis. Given to Renesmee the Cullen diet is the norm, to her it would seem obvious that, yes, everyone in the world can turn into a vampire and if they ration animal resources correctly there’s no problem. Or, if not everyone, then certainly her grandfather need not die.

I’m sure Charlie tries to talk to Renesmee about this but given that he’s one of her few strong relationships in this world the talk of “I’m going to die some day, sorry kiddo” doesn’t go well.

So, I’m sure it takes Renesmee a very long time to recover from that blow, if, in fact, she ever really does. I’m sure a part of her will always grieve Charlie.

In time, I think she’ll leave the coven to go on a journey of self discovery. The coven will just be too damn suffocating and she needs to find out who she truly is. Now, if that’s before or after the inevitable collapse of the Volturi and destruction of human society is hard to say.

I will say that whatever the future holds for Renesmee, just like everyone else’s, it is unbearably bleak.

[shanastoryteller]

Wen Qing says yes because all she can think of is the consequences if she doesn’t.

She probably should have spent some time considering what, exactly, the consequences of saying yes would be.

~

Wei Wuxian wants to go back to the banquet and shake Jin Zixun until the information they need falls out, but Wen Qing knows that’s a terrible idea, knows that he shouldn’t be helping her at all but he definitely shouldn’t stand in front of the whole cultivation world and threaten the Jin family for her. He asks one of the servants instead, something she wouldn’t have thought to do, but he insists that servants know everything and after a hefty bribe he’s telling them what they need to know and even turns a blind eye when they take a horse that’s been left unattended.

She’s skinny on a good day and she hasn’t seen a good day in a long time. Wei Wuxian didn’t used to be this thin, this breakable, but he is now, and she tells herself it’s a good thing because the one horse is easily able to carry both of them. He sits behind her even though he takes the reigns and she leans back into him because she’s been holding herself up for so long and she’s tired and he’s helping her, something no one has been willing to in – ever, really. She thinks she could almost count his ribs against her back and thinks if she’s alive tomorrow she’ll give him a lecture about eating properly without a golden core to nourish him.

They arrive just as a guard is raising a broken flag pole above his head to skewer A-Ning.

Wei Wuxian stops him, using a talisman to bind the man’s wrist to his own and jerking him away from her brother. Who is alive, and whole, and does not have a pole through his stomach. She’s crying when she holds him and Wei Wuxian stands between them and everyone else and looks at the guards and her people and says, “I have an idea. It’s a bad idea.”

“Your ideas usually are,” she says, but she’s still shaking at having her little brother back in her arms so it doesn’t come out as acerbic as she intended.

~

It is a terrible idea. She doesn’t have to agree to it.

She does.

They go to the nearest temple in Lanling because they need witnesses for this. The monks are confused and frightened but bear witness as she bows three times to Wei Wuxian and is bowed to three times in return.

She is exhausted and scared and is still unconvinced that she’ll live to see the sunrise, but Wei Wuxian had helped her when she hadn’t asked and saved her brother and wouldn’t let the guards stop them from leading her family from the work camp, so she marries him.

~

They go back to Koi Tower. It’s terrifying but Jiang disciples meet them and look askance at all the rest of them but don’t hesitate to obey Wei Wuxian. They surround them as they walk and if they have opinions about being told to guard traitorous Wen, they don’t voice them. Maybe the fact that they’re guarding Wei Wuxian too is enough.

They enter the banquet hall and everything is silent. She doesn’t know how to read the look on everyone’s faces and she doesn’t try. Instead she stands by Wei Wuxian’s side and does what she does best – she doesn’t flinch.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jin Guangshan shouts, appalled. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Sect Leader Jin,” he says, offhand, casual, as if having his hall filled with Wen is a perfectly ordinary occurrence. “You’re so good at throwing parties. I was hoping you would throw one for me.”

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrow. “Why would we throw a party?”

“Well, it is my wedding day,” he says, and holds out his hand. Wen Qing places her hand in his, lets his other hand settle warm and proprietary at the small of her back. “My wife, Wen Qing. We were just married at the temple in Lanling. Feel free to question the monks if you don’t believe me.”

The silence breaks, everyone shouting now, and A-Yuan’s cry cuts through all of them.

She hadn’t known that Wei Wuxian had any experience with children, but he turns automatically, opening his arms, and Granny barely hesitates before placing A-Yuan into them. After all, if they can’t trust Wei Wuxian, they’re all dead anyway.

A-Yuan, astonishingly, quiets instantly as Wei Wuxian bounces him in his arms, settling his head on his shoulder and sticking his thumb in his mouth.

“You,” Wen Qing turns, sees Jiang Cheng looking between them, and she could probably read the look on his face but she doesn’t want to. “He’s your – you have a – was it when we, after Lotus Pier?”

She and Wei Wuxian glance at each other, and maybe this marriage will work out, because that one glance contains a whole conversation of things they can’t say. The timeline almost works. A-Yuan likely was conceived sometime around the fall of Lotus Pier. If there is a child, Wei Wuxian’s actions become more understandable, seem less like an act of war and something closer to what they really are, an act of love.

She could have, she supposes, laid with Wei Wuxian and gotten pregnant and bore a child in the years since they’ve seen each other. She didn’t, but the only ones who know that are either dead or just as desperate as she is for this to work.

Or. Well.

Jiang Yanli’s face is easier to look at, even as it does something complicated then smooths. She was there and awake while they all recovered with her and Wen Ning. She knows that she and Wei Wuxian didn’t have any sort of epic romance, or even a quick tryst, during that time. Wei Wuxian was so obsessively focused on helping his brother that the idea he’d have paused long enough for sex when he hadn’t for sleep or food is ridiculous. But Jiang Yanli meets her gaze then pointedly lowers her eyes and something like relief trickles down Wen Qing’s spine.

Wei Wuxian looks around the hall and if he hesitates over Lan Wangji, that’s a conversation for them to have later, if there is a later.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, formally, and Jiang Cheng nearly flinches before catching himself. “Meet my son. Wei Yuan.” He lets that echo through the hall and then says, “I could not leave him, nor the woman who bore him, nor the family that raised him when I remained in ignorance.”

She lowers his gaze as if in shame, for having a child out of marriage, for keeping that child from his father, but mostly she can’t stand to see the look at Jiang Cheng’s face any longer.

~

There is intense debate among the clans. The Lan and surprisingly even the Nie vote against the Jin and agree for the Wen to be released to the custody of the Jiang rather than the Jin. What’s the difference between one great clan and the other, after all, and Jiang Cheng fights for this, fights for them, and Wen Qing knows he’s really fighting for Wei Wuxian. Their marriage makes things too complicated, like they’d hoped. A-Yuan makes things too complicated, and everyone in the hall mostly seems to want to go back to drinking. There is some poorly hidden sentiment that if Wei Wuxian wants a war bride he should be entitled to her, for his contribution to the war, perhaps, and Wen Qing hates these people. They do not call her and her family tribute but they imply it easily enough.

If the price of the lives of her family is her pride, that’s fine. She abandoned that a long time ago.

~

“You have been good for him,” Jiang Yanli tells her a month after they’ve moved into Lotus Pier, a month of being the wife to Wei Wuxian and the mother to the now Wei Yuan. She doesn’t do a particularly good job at either of these roles, she thinks, but Wei Wuxian makes a good husband and a good father and it was his idea but she can’t help but feel guilty, can’t help but think she stole for herself and her family what was meant for someone else.

Her sister in law’s words aren’t wrong, however. She doesn’t let Wei Wuxian drink so much anymore and forces him to eat. She’s there in his bed when he gasps awke from nightmares and when he can do nothing more but clutch his chest and weep. She gets the story of the Burial Mounds from him, eventually, and she doesn’t know how to heal that kind of trauma, but she holds him when he cries and thinks even if she can’t be a proper wife, she can do this, and she heals the damage demonic cultivation does to his meridians, and it seems like such little things, comparatively, but it helps.

She’s offers up the excuse that demonic cultivation makes using his sword difficult and people stop asking him to carry it. A-Ning sticks to Wei Wuxian’s side when she can’t, looking faintly sad whenever Wei Wuxian makes an unhealthy choice, which is even more effective than her scolding, although not as effective as getting A-Yuan to place his chubby hand on Wei Wuxian’s cheek and go, “Baba no.”

Without so many nightmares, with having people around he can talk to freely, with no one pestering him about his sword, Wei Wuxian shoulders all the responsibilities of first disciple and brother of the clan leader, something he apparently hadn’t been able to do before.

She knows what the rumors say. Those that had been against her and her family being set free, relatively speaking, are now patting themselves on the back. Clearly the fearsome Yiling Patriarch has been cowed by marriage. His bastard son, who he loved enough at first sight to legitimize, has softened his sharp edges.

Wen Qing knows that’s all bullshit and Jiang Yanli does too, but.

He is better.

Jiang Cheng can’t seem to decide between being relieved and grateful at having his brother back and resentful that it took Wen Qing to bring it about and – whatever his feelings about her are, and her marriage to his brother are, which she doesn’t know because she refuses to acknowledge them.  

“I’m glad,” she says quietly.

Her sister in law squeezes her hand, and Wen Qing squeezes back, and if this isn’t exactly the life she wanted, well. It’s a life. That’s more than she thought she’d have.

She has a loving husband and an adorable son and living, healthy family. There is nothing for her to complain about.

Just because it all feels stolen, just because it all feels like something she never should have been given, doesn’t make it less good, doesn’t make it less hers.

~

Wen Qing knows that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in love with each other because she has two functioning eyes. She’s known that since she was a teenager in Cloud Recesses.

She had not wanted to come between them. She hadn’t planned on it. This all hadn’t even been her idea.

She’s guilty enough about it that she ignores her own feelings.

At first, she doesn’t have any, not really. Then it hadn’t been right.

She’s never felt greedy before. She doesn’t like it but she doesn’t know how to stop it.

~

They’ve been married for over a year the first time Wei Wuxian kisses her.

They’ve been married nearly two years the first time Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji.

Something settles in her then, relief burrowing into her bones. Lan Wangji comes to her after, a combination of desirously happy and mortified, and bows to her and looks her in the eye when he tells her that he’s in love with her husband.

“I know,” she says kindly, “he’s easy to love.” She pauses, then says, “I do not mind. If it’s you.”

His lips part, and she holds the place that should be his, married to Wei Wuxian, but.

She can share, if he can. Even if it can’t be official, on paper, she and Wen Ning can bear witness to him and Wei Wuxian bowing to each other and maybe she’ll finally be able to breath when she can give back some of what she stole.

~

There are rumors about the three of them.

They don’t listen to them.

A-Yuan calls Lan Wangji his father and no one corrects him and that’s good enough for her, really.

It’s a good life, and it’s hers, and she’s glad of it.  

[robininthelabyrinth]

Getting Bored - part 3 - ao3 - tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Perhaps it was merely the competent coordinator in him, but Jin Guangyao truly appreciated clever schemes working out exactly as planned, even if he was the one being schemed against.

It didn’t count when it was a matter of chance, like Nie Mingjue finding him in the middle of committing a murder – that was his own fault for not paying better attention, not planning better, and to a certain degree simply his bad luck – but rather, when there was a deliberate effort to set up the circumstances in such a way as to leave an enemy with no retreat and no way out but to react exactly as you wish…

Beautiful.

Annoying, of course, when it interfered with his own plans. But a pleasure to observe nonetheless.

Sadly, his father did not take such things as calmly as he did.

By this point, Jin Guangyao was able to repress his flinch at the sound of something expensive breaking as it was thrown against the wall.

“Motherless bastard, son of a whore!” Jin Guangshan hissed, and it was only the fact that he was glaring out the window of the inn they were staying at in Yiling that let Jin Guangyao conclude that he was not referring to himself. “How dare he pull a thing like his – and at Yiling, no less? The sheer gall of it –”

The gall, Jin Guangyao presumed, was in outwitting Jin Guangshan and outdoing the Jin sect at their own game. It had to be that, because in all other respects it was a masterful stroke: the Yiling Patriarch implicitly realigning himself with the Jiang sect by acting in the role of Jiang Cheng’s shixiong in hosting the announcement of the marriage between Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng, the Nie sect’s agreement with that location representing their endorsement of Wei Wuxian’s return to the cultivation world and the end of the ostracization the Jin sect had worked so hard to accomplish, while the marriage itself represented the formation of an iron-solid alliance between the Nie and Jiang sects that in a single stroke rendered the Jin-Jiang marriage alliance null – since after all, Jiang Cheng would be bound to put his husband’s requests above those of what, in the end, was merely a married-out sister.

(The fact that Jiang Cheng adored his sister unreasonably and wasn’t the sort to listen to husbandly authority was irrelevant. Jin Guangyao might be smart enough to use that, but Jin Guangshan wasn’t.)

Or perhaps what truly galled Jin Guangshan was how, while they had all been absorbing the implications of the news they had received along with the invitation, Jin Zixuan had loudly – and publicly – exclaimed that it was wonderful, joyous news and that he wished Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue a long and happy life together.

Obviously, that would have had to be the public response regardless, but there were ways of saying it and there were ways of saying it. Jin Zixuan’s exclamation hadn’t allowed for any nuance or implication or rumor-mongering, nothing that they could have done to salvage the situation and try to use it as another way to strengthen their sect by weakening the others.

They could have implied that this union in fact represented Nie Mingjue’s hot-headed impulsiveness, even irrationality, hinted at unspoken but well-known things about Nie Mingjue’s longevity and mental state – suggested that Jiang Cheng was trying to take advantage of those things, marrying himself off for a political benefit while only counting a few years in cost…but it was no point in thinking of those things now.

Now, thanks to Jin Zixuan, the only thing they could do was come to this little inn in Yiling and grit their teeth and smile, their lips full of well-wishes they didn’t mean in the slightest.

Moreover, while Jin Guangshan saw the entire thing as little more than an exercise in frustration in his proper heir, who he believed to be too noble and chivalrous to think of the implications before he spoke, Jin Guangyao had seen the faint smile on Jin Zixuan’s face right before he’d spoken, and the expression on his face upon hearing the news hadn’t been surprise.

He’d known, and judging by the pleased but not shocked expression on Mistress Jiang’s face, the source of his knowledge was clear. Jin Zixuan had known, and he’d spoken deliberately; he’d locked his sect into expressing only joy at the union, undermining all their plans, and he’d done it on purpose.

Jin Guangyao was dying to know how Nie Mingjue had arranged that.

Because he had, of course. Jin Guangyao had immediately quizzed his contacts at the Lotus Pier, and they all confirmed that the marriage wasn’t anything as pedestrian as a mere love match – Nie Mingjue had explicitly proposed on the basis of mutual benefit for their sects, and Jiang Cheng had accepted on those self-same grounds. He had even announced it to his sect in that fashion, explaining some of the benefits he believed the arrangements would bring to the Lotus Pier and assuring them that he would never forsake their interests even as he planned to spend at least one month in every three at Qinghe.

If it had been a love match, Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have been that impressed. It didn’t take a genius to fall in love and luck out into a political move that shook the world, especially since Nie Mingjue’s luck had always been irritatingly good, but to deliberately plan and execute such a move – not only the alliance itself, but to also use the arrangement as an excuse to get the Yiling Patriarch and all his tricks and toys onto the side of the Nie sect when days before he had been an enemy to all the world – to use Wei Wuxian in turn to obtain instant approval from the Lan sect, given Lan Wangji’s inexplicable fondness for the man and Lan Xichen’s desire to please his brother – to even use Jiang Cheng’s connection to Jin Zixuan to undermine the Jin sect’s ability to fight back – to do it all at once –

Beautiful. Truly beautiful.

He hadn’t thought Nie Mingjue had it in him, to be honest.

All that talk about honor and doing the right thing and all that – he’d long assumed that it was mere naïveté, the mind of a child in the body of a man trying to play at politics, that Nie Mingjue was a blunt instrument good only for war. In such circumstances, especially with what happened between them in the past, it was only reasonable for Jin Guangyao to break with him fully and support his father instead.

But now that he knew that Nie Mingjue was actually capable of such a clever ploy…

Jin Guangyao watched without expression as his father continued to break his own things in his impotent anger, like a toddler having a tantrum that wouldn’t change anyone’s decisions one bit.

Perhaps it was time to start reconsidering which horse he was backing in this race.

-

Jiang Cheng hadn’t expected Wei Wuxian to have such a passion for planning his wedding, although in retrospect he really should have. After all, they’d always schemed together as children about the sort of wonderful grandiose wedding they were going to ensure that Jiang Yanli would have, and yet when the time came it had not been possible to include Wei Wuxian in the actual wedding planning or even execution.

He was clearly getting his feelings out about all of that by insisting on micromanaging every possible aspect of this wedding.

Since Jiang Cheng didn’t actually have the patience or interest to argue with the merchants regarding the exact shade of the streamers to be used to decorate the Lotus Pier, he was happy to let Wei Wuxian run wild with it.

He’d worried a little a first – Wei Wuxian was still the Yiling Patriarch, after all, feared and loathed by all – but bizarrely enough everyone seemed to be taking his return to the cultivation world in stride, as if they’d all collectively forgotten that they’d forced Jiang Cheng to expel him from the Jiang sect less than a year before. He’d even heard some of the smaller sect leaders arguing that as adherents to the Jiang sect, they ought to get first access when Wei Wuxian started selling genuine versions of some of his new inventions. 

On the basis of Wei Wuxian’s close connection to the sect that had raised him, no less!

Maybe it was only that it was very hard to be afraid of man shouting about how the mandarin ducks in Jiang Cheng’s wedding robes had to be sewn in proper gold thread, none of this half-assed yellow business, didn’t they know that Jiang Cheng had a complexion that would be faded out by yellow?

Still, with that worry settled, Jiang Cheng had very happily allowed Wei Wuxian to use his wedding as a means of reintroducing himself to the cultivation world and settling back into something vaguely resembling his original role as Jiang Cheng’s shixiong – no longer part of the same sect, unfortunately, not the Twin Heroes he’d hoped for when he was younger, but so much better than the unthinkable alternative that he wasn’t angry, only grateful.

Of course, there were some aspects of the wedding preparation that Wei Wuxian couldn’t help with.

Jiang Cheng’s face burned as he looked down at the books on his desk, both the ones he’d already reviewed and the (much larger) pile of books still to go, as well as the study guide he’d been writing for himself on the side. He’d had to steel his spine and ask Nie Huaisang for them, but luckily Nie Huaisang – who was enjoying spectating the wedding planning, since what he was doing couldn’t really be considered helping – had been, as always, a reliable source for such things.

Such…pictures.

Jiang Cheng was getting married, after all, and it wasn’t as though he’d had the mechanics of how cutsleeves did things explained to him during that extremely awkward conversation in his early teens about how babies were made. That talk had been traumatizing enough that he’d properly refrained from doing anything at all with anyone, much less another man, and as a result he had to try to figure things out from the beginning.

It was possible that Nie Mingjue was more educated in such matters than he, and would be able to act as a guide for him, but the idea of making some sort of amateur mistake made Jiang Cheng’s skin crawl. He wasn’t the genius Wei Wuxian was, confident in getting everything right the first time he tried no matter how unprepared he was.

Studying up in advance was the only solution.

Even if it did make his face hot and his breath come too fast and require occasional breaks from the work to go walk around the Lotus Pier until his heart rate came down to something more normal.

(Jiang Cheng secretly suspected that he didn’t feel desire the way other people did – he’d never looked at a person and gone oh yes I like the look of that the way it usually got described, never granted anyone more favors because they were pretty, never felt like he was missing out on something by not having someone in his bed – but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy getting off. In theory, having someone to assist with that would be even better, and he...didn’t know what to do with that.)

Gritting his teeth, Jiang Cheng picked up another book. Not pictures this time, he noted to his relief, although he’d found that some of the narrative texts managed to be even filthier than the explicit images, all implication and suggestion and no wrong faces to get in the way of him imagining himself in that position.

This book, though, started pretty slow. It was well-written, taking the time to flesh out the characters and actually throw in a bit of plot to keep the background from being too boring, though of course the focus remained on the two main characters getting closer together – which they did slowly and cautiously, rather than jumping straight into bed together the way it was in most such books. There was a lot more emphasis on kissing and on their general reticence and growing familiarity around each other, perfectly reasonable given that the characters weren’t that close to each other to start with.

It was a nice change, obviously much more applicable to the situation that he and Nie Mingjue were in than in some of the other books where there was nothing but smut, and Jiang Cheng found himself reading it quite avidly, wanting to find out what happened next, and it wasn’t until he was nearly three-quarters of the way through and the first spring scene had actually cut out before describing the actual contents of the relevant activity that he abruptly realized that the stupid book wasn’t pornography at all, but a romance.

He scowled at the book, which was good enough to finish anyway but still, what a waste of time! Why had Nie Huaisang put this in with the rest of them?

After all, Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue weren’t in a romance – this was a political arrangement, not a love-match. It was all hard-nosed logical decision-making, cost-benefit analysis. Emotions didn’t play a role in it at all, and that was just how Jiang Cheng wanted it, given the mess emotions had made of his parents’ marriage.

Sure, Jiang Cheng enjoyed Nie Mingjue’s company. He found the man interesting and engaging, and enjoyed being around him regardless of whether they were actively doing something or merely sitting in a comfortable shared silence.

Sure, kissing him made Jiang Cheng’s heart race and his face go red, while embracing him made him feel warm. The thought of going to bed with him filled Jiang Cheng with anticipation rather than revulsion – he still didn’t look at Nie Mingjue and break him down into pieces, thinking nice legs or good ass or anything like that, but he thought he could enjoy touching him and being touched in return, and imagining it with him was far more interesting than imagining it with anyone else.

And, yes, sure, it was a bit like that character in the book had put it, that being with him was better than being without him, and being without him felt lonely as it never had before –

…wait.

Wait.

Oh, shit.

-

“So, I think I might have messed something up,” Jiang Cheng said, bursting into the room that set aside to be Nie Mingjue’s office during the time he would spend at the Lotus Pier, since with it being one month out of three there was bound to be days when they had to deal with confidential sect business that the other couldn’t be involved in. He looked as if he had run the entire way.

Nie Mingjue pushed his papers away. “Is someone dead or imminently dying? Are we going to war?”

Jiang Cheng paused and frowned, distracted from his panic. “No, it’s not that sort of problem.”

“Then there’s time left to fix it,” Nie Mingjue said. Death was irreversible, war was catastrophic, everything else was negotiable – or stab-able. The Nie sect was a very practical sect. “Sit down and tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Jiang Cheng looked relieved at receiving clear instructions, something Nie Mingjue had noticed from early on – it seemed to help his anxiety to know that there was someone keeping their head. Ironically enough, Jiang Cheng himself was excellent at keeping his own head in front of the sort of injustice that sent Nie Mingjue out of his mind with rage; he immediately defaulted to planning on what to do, which in turn calmed Nie Mingjue down.

They were really a very good match, he thought to himself, pleased; it was just as he’d suspected – or, perhaps more accurately, hoped.

Jiang Cheng sat down. “Okay,” he said. “Right. I messed up –”

“Non-fatally.”

“…yes, non-fatally. But I still did mess up, and it involves you.”

Nie Mingjue arched his eyebrows.

“I understand that our marriage is an arrangement designed to better both our sects,” Jiang Cheng said. He was now staring fixedly at the wall a little over Nie Mingjue’s head. “But I appear to have developed…feelings.”

Nie Mingjue managed not to flinch, primarily out of years of practice of attending truly gruesomely awful discussion conferences.

That was a disappointment, especially as things had seemed to be going so well. It had always been a risk, he supposed, and one he knew to prepare himself for, although it did come as something of a surprise – especially this late in the process. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen anyone around Jiang Cheng that he thought might be a likely person for it.

“For whom?” he asked, remaining calm. If the person was inaccessible, or someone who might be joined into the marriage, then the deal was still salvageable – certainly his father hadn’t complained – but if this was a sticking point…

Jiang Cheng blinked at him owlishly. “What? What do you mean for who? For you, obviously!”

Now it was Nie Mingjue’s turn to blink. His heart turned over in his chest, abruptly twisting the sting of disappointment into the pleasure of a nice surprise, but mostly what he felt was confusion.

“Okay,” he said, scowling a little, “what’s the problem, then?”

Jiang Cheng looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “That is the problem! It’s one thing entirely to make an agreeable business decision with someone you like well enough, friends can do anything, but it’s not exactly the sort of feeling you get for friends.”

“We’re…going to be married, though?”

“Yes! Exactly! Feelings in a marriage lead to jealousy, jealousy leads to stupid irrational behavior, which leads to resentment, which poisons the entire relationship –”

“A-Cheng,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling as though he might be allowed. “Marriages are supposed to cultivate feelings.”

Jiang Cheng frowned.

“Not everyone is your parents. Most people, in fact. You reach an agreement with someone you respect, you marry, you put in the work necessary to turn that respect into feelings you can use to base a lifetime together on – what do you think all that practice we’ve been doing is the foundation for?”

“But…”

“Jealousy doesn’t necessarily lead to resentment,” Nie Mingjue explained. “As long as the feelings are reciprocated, a little jealousy can be – not a problem.”

Sometimes very much not a problem, not that Nie Mingjue personally suffered from that taste.

(He was not going to explain the details of his own parents’ relationship, however useful an example it might be in this context. If Jiang Cheng wanted an explanation of how people could end up eroticizing jealousy and sexual possessiveness to the point that watching their beloved implicitly reject them in favor of another went from being distressing to exciting, he could ask Nie Huaisang about it.)

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said, and looked relieved.

He wasn’t the only one.

“How did this come up, anyway?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Oh, I was reading a book,” Jiang Cheng said, and for some reason he flushed a little. “It depicted a romance that reminded me of how you and I interact, and my feelings on the subject, and, well…”

“What book?”

Jiang Cheng pulled the book out of his sleeve – it was one of Nie Huaisang’s favorite romance novels, Nie Mingjue could identify it on sight based on how many times he’d seen his brother flipping through it and sighing – and tried to offer it over, only when he did another book that had somehow gotten stuck up to the back of the first one fell down to the floor, landing on its spine and falling open.

The page it fell open to was illustrated. Vividly.

There was a moment in which they both stared down at it.

Nie Mingjue pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, and Jiang Cheng turned beet red and leapt to his feet and started stammering something about making a study guide to avoid embarrassing himself and not to pay any attention to it and anyway it was all Nie Huaisang’s fault – Nie Mingjue believed that one immediately – and anyway the only reason it’d fallen to that particular page was because he was convinced that it wasn’t even possible –

“No, that one’s possible,” Nie Mingjue said, standing up as well. “You just need support – look, see, if I lift you up against the wall like this –”

He demonstrated.

“– and you put your legs like so, it all works out just fine. Entirely plausible.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth was slightly agape, his breath coming a bit quickly; his cheeks were still a lovely shade of pink, and Nie Mingjue could tell fairly easily that Jiang Cheng’s attempted explanation about the reason he had been lingering on that particular page was a lie.

“Oh,” he said, “and I like you, too. Just so you know.”

Jiang Cheng smiled.

[maraudersandlily20]

Can you please write a Drarry fic for this prompt

“A cat.”

“Yes.”

“We broke in here to steal... a cat?”

“Yes.”

Prompt from

“I don’t like the feeling of this place,” Harry whispered, crouching down beside Draco. The pair were trying to move as silently as possible through the grounds of a large estate that loomed over them like the harbinger of death. 

“Well, Death Eaters live here Harry,” Draco’s tone matched what a person would use with a child. 

“Which is ridiculous, by the way! I mean, it’s pretty obvious at this point who the Death Eaters were. They’ve arrested most of them. But they are lagging behind.”

Draco shrugged. “The war ended four years ago. Most people just want to put it behind them.”

“Lucky them.”

Draco pulled Harry lower behind the stone wall they were using as cover. “You’re going to get us caught if you keep talking like this.” He pulled Harry’s hand and the two dashed closer to the house. They picked their way to the left side of the front door, constantly checking around them.

“That’s another thing. What exactly are we doing here? What are we taking?”

“I told you. My grandfather, Abraxus, has something in here that requires better care than he is giving it. I didn’t even realize he still had it. But I’ve had confirmations from my cousins.”

“I didn’t even know you had cousins.”

Draco smiled over his shoulder as they got to the foundation of the house. “Yeah, they’re not people I like to hang around. The wrong sort, I guess you could say.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Harry rolled his eyes as he stepped into Draco’s intertwined hands and grabbed onto the window ledge, pulling himself up. When he had himself firmly situated on the lip, he unlocked the latch on the window and swung it open slowly. Making sure that the room was clear, he leaned back over the window and grabbed Draco’s hands in his and helped him maneuver his way up the stone. The dust cleared and it was the two of them after they had broken in the magnificent estate of Abraxus Malfoy. 

“Rather gloomy place, don’t you think?” Harry whispered, feeling like it matched the mood. 

“No one comes here anymore,” said Draco, walking over to a wall full of portraits. “After father’s arrest, Grandfather got rather ill. He didn’t want any visitors unless they were invited, like my cousins, and he sits up here alone in his grand estate, cursing mudbloods.”

Harry stared up at the wall of stern and severe faces. He could see Draco in many of them, in the face shape, eye color, hair color, thinness. All of them sat sleeping, paying no attention to the noise of their entrance. This was his family. He was struck with the feeling that there was so much about Draco that he didn’t know and maybe never would. With a family like that, it would be hard to talk about. 

“Well, he should think about getting a maid,” he said in response, gesturing to the coating of dust on everything. 

A chuckle escaped Draco’s lips and he shoved at Harry, making the other boy grin. It was such a warm moment that Harry had to catch his breath. Their friendship was new, fragile, untested. And neither of them could deny that there was a spark underneath the friendship, just waiting to catch fire. They both worried though that the fire wouldn’t keep them warm but burn them alive. Harry didn’t want to push Draco into anything, so he didn’t speak about it, hoping the other boy would bring it up. He never did. 

“Alright, Malfoy. Let’s go steal from dear old Grandfather, hm?”

Draco’s smile twisted into something sinister and wicked. “I would love nothing more.”

He turned and left the room, having removed his shoes to lessen the sound. Harry wondered what they looked like, sneaking around on their tippy toes with their muddy shoes in hand. It was like a bad crime novel. 

Together, they went up the stairs, not the grand main staircase, but a more convenient, small staircase that most likely was used by staff and elves. Harry was grateful for the illegality of having house elves now so none of them would have to suffer in such a horrible place like this. 

“It’s just up here, on the second level.”

“You know,” Harry whispered, “I have done many stupid things in my life. Ron and Hermione can attest to that-”

“You mean like going into a corridor that was strictly forbidden when you were 11? Or entering a tournament that required you to be 18 even though you were 14?”

“I didn’t enter-”

“Or maybe learning spells that weren’t really tested and then using them on people, giving them scars for life?”

“Scars are hot,” Harry whispered.

Draco looked back, unimpressed. “Or maybe you were referring to the time where you willingly walked into a forest where Voldemort was and got yourself killed-”

“I came back to life!”

“-And continued to make ridiculous decisions throughout the battle of Hogwarts even though there was a chance you could die a second time? You mean stupid and reckless like that?”

They had paused in their ascent up the stairs as Draco recounted the misdeeds of Harry’s life. His face bloomed red, because Draco saying this meant that Draco noticed what happened to Harry. Meaning that Draco was watching Harry just as often as Harry was watching Draco. 

“When you say it like that, it’s like you’re implying that I’m a daredevil with a death wish.”

“You think that was an implication?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What I was GOING to say, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Draco scoffed and continued up the steps. “I may be reckless but I’ve never really broken in to someone’s house before. This is a first for me.”

“The way you lithely got onto the windowsill says otherwise.”

“I’m spry.”

“And a felon.”

“I’m an accessory, at best. This was your master plan, Malfoy. Remember?”

He couldn’t see Draco’s face, but assumed he was smiling at Harry’s insistence on that fact.

“I’m just impressed you can use such big words like accessory,” Draco snickered, making Harry smack at his back, causing Draco to go up the stairs faster to avoid him. 

They emerged onto the second level, pausing for a moment to gather whether or not someone had heard them. No obvious noise seemed to be approaching so Harry turned to the other boy. “So, let’s accio this thing and get out of here?”

“We can’t.”

“Why not.”

Draco walked swiftly down the hallway to a pair of ornately carved wooden doors. “Accio doesn’t work on live animals,” he threw over his shoulder before easing one side of the doorway open. 

Harry stuttered to a stop, confusion filling him. “I’m sorry, did you just say live animals?”

He met Draco in the doorway and peered into what seemed to be a music room, equipped with a variety of musical instruments, like a grand piano and an array of cellos, basses, and violins. He might had paused in awe at the state of them, but he was distracted.

By the black cat sitting quietly on a cushion on the sofa.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he whispered, looking at Draco with an expression that clearly said that the joke needed to end and they could move on. Draco didn’t move.

“Nope.”

“A cat?”

“Yes.”

“We broke in here to steal... a cat?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t often feel like facepalming himself, but now would have been one of those moments. He flicked Draco’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch and look over in outrage. 

“WE ARE RISKING OUT LIVES FOR A CAT?!” he whisper yelled.

Draco walked into the room, kneeling in front of the cat who’s eyes were a strange misty blue and allowed it to sniff him a few times. When he understood there was a new person there, he pushed his head into Draco’s hand so he would pet him. Draco smiled and picked the cat up gingerly. With their kidnapped cat safely in his arms, he gestured for Harry to leave the room.

Though he was angry beyond belief, Harry did as he was instructed and made his way back to the little staircase. The two moved through the house quickly before exiting through the same window they had forced their way into. It was quick and painless and not a single person saw them.

When they were free of the grounds of the manner and had apparated back to Draco’s flat, he placed the cat down with a gentle touch. After making sure his new guest was settled, he turned to Harry, and grabbed him. His hands went on either side of Harry’s face and before Harry could even blink, Draco’s lips were on his. 

His response was immediate and enthusiastic. He was FINALLY kissing Draco! He felt like his heart was going to burst. 

After a few minutes of them being wrapped up in each other, Draco pulled back smiling. “As a thank you,” he whispered, face flush. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Also,” Draco leaned forward and nudged Harry’s nose with his own. “We weren’t risking our lives by taking the cat.”

“No?”

“No. My grandfather wasn’t even home.”

The sentence settled in the air as Harry took in what had been said. As understanding fell over him, he felt aghast. Draco has USED him? LIED to him? For a CAT?!

“Malfoy!!!-” But Harry couldn’t finish his yelp of anger, because Draco was kissing him again. And that effectively shut him up. 

[lyallblacklupin]

Now that all is over.

TW: Implied Sexual Assault/Nightmares.

Voldemort is killed with all aspects which is how the Second Wizarding War has ended. Fortunately, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have survived. They have a godson to look forward to make up for the lost times, the world is serene and ill-free, and especially, they have each other. Life cannot have been any sweeter.  However, one miserable night, Sirius jerks out of the worst nightmare he has ever seen in his life. He is screaming and looking anywhere for help but Remus Lupin, who has been sleeping beside him. Will Remus be able to calm him down without having to touch him, or even come close to him?

There are a lot of things Remus Lupin should be thinking right now, which included his indecisiveness for accepting the job Dumbledore has offered him again, now that the story of Voldemort had ended once and for all. Also, the fact that he needs to move out from Grimmauld Place for the sake of his-boyfriend? Fiancé? Lover? He doesn’t understands what they are, but he knows that they are certainly not teenagers anymore. They had endured wars, losses and especially, ducked down from their own deaths, together. They finally have another chance to live, and this time it is without the fear. The fear that had been looming like their shadows since they can remember. This was THE chance.

However, as Remus exchanges the bill with the cash the red-headed girl is giving him for the Oscar Wilde’s poetry—which becomes a good distraction because the girl looks timid and strongly reminds him of Lily Evans picking up poetry from the Hogwarts for him, then she would smile at him with a teasing glint in her emerald eyes when it was Wilde’s queer poetry—he is stuck with his brain flickering the image of what happened today morning at half past five when Sirius jolted out of his sleep, running away from nothing but Remus.

“Sirius, honey—“

“NOOOOO!” Sirius’ eyes were screwed shut and he was pulling his hair like a madman, squirming in the most corner of their bedroom, with his knees glued to his chest as he quivered violently. Remus didn’t know what to do because this was something that he had never experienced in their togetherness. Sirius did have the tendency of having frequent nightmares even in Hogwarts, but never once he had pulled Remus away when he had reached and took his trembling body to tuck it against his own. He didn’t even need to ask his permission which was evidently clear that Sirius could recognize his presence without even looking him. However, this time Sirius’ wide eyes were staring him and yet he was shrieking when Remus inched forward to touch him. All of this was giving Remus only one answer: The nightmare was about Remus.

“Okay, Sirius, I’m not touching you, I’m not coming to you, see…” He steps back and sits on his bed across the very scared looking Sirius sitting on the floor. He pretended that didn’t have assume the reason behind Sirius’ behavior, looking very calm, “Did you have a nightmare, love? You can tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise you, Sirius—“

His words died in his throat and suddenly something very heavy settled on his chest because Sirius is shaking his head.

“Don’t lie.” Sirius whispered and Remus thought that all of his surrounding was turning upside down. He hadn’t felt so helpless before. It had never been like this. Sirius had always been too tactile with him, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything, he was running out of ideas and strategies to deal with the situation. His mind was ringing and he started feeling nauseous as if some vial is refluxing from his stomach. His fisted the bedsheet and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to call out Sirius but he could hardly hear his own voice when a certain ringing sound is somewhere around him. He could tell nothing except the regrets and the what-ifs that were screaming in his head: What is happening to us? Are we falling again when the chance is finally here? Why now? What if Sirius had dreamt that the wolf has killed him? What if Sirius has now realized that he was bound with a monster? What if Sirius has believed that nightmare? He shouldn’t have been with me! He deserves more! Someone who is hundred times better than me! What will I do without him? And again? Weren’t those twelve years enough for us? Why isn’t the universe a little merciful on us?

And then what came out from his mouth was a sob. His body was shaking as it  racked through him. He manages to breathe as he lifted up his head and there was Sirius looking at him with his tear-stained face, inching forward towards Remus’ legs by the bed. Remus wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace him with all his strength and love, but he had to be very gentle to not make him flinch. He carefully raised his hand, not breaking his eye contact with him. Sirius nods hesitantly. It broke Remus’ heart to see the doubtful face of his lover. His fingers touched the skin of his arm, and fortunately there was no hint of discomfort in his face.

“What’s happened, Sirius? What did you see?”

Remus deliberately jerks himself out of the flashback because what Sirius explained him after that, was not failing him to shudder every time he plays that memory in his head. He realizes that he has to go to the therapist he has been seeing since a month. He likes Dr. Holly Meyer, and she knows about his relationship with Sirius. He thinks that she was the right person to talk.

His shift at the bookstore ends at quarter past two as he hurries for his appointment.

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

“Does Sirius have any past trauma related to rape or any sexual assault he has experience from his loved one?”

“Umm, no, he never mentioned.” Remus replies to Holly’s question. But he highly doubts that Sirius was never sexually molested by his family because one of the days at Hogwarts, when they were dating, he saw an angry looking bruise on Sirius’ hip which jolted him to his cores. However, Sirius never talked about it and neither Remus had the audacity to ask him who did that to him.

“Remus, have you ever done something which has terrified him? Any physical gesture or…I hope you know what I am talking about. Something that might have prompted that memory out of him, which also might have influenced him through this nightmare?”

Remus felt sudden surge of heat beneath his cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to answer. They haven’t physically interacted with each other in a while. The last time he can remember is when Sirius gained health after being in comma for five weeks when Bellatrix had hit him with a very complex curse at the Department of Mysteries. They were reunited in Grimmauld Place after the healers discharged him, both of them brimming up with emotions as they tried to express their undying love for each other. After that blissful moment, they got too busy with the approaching war, that they could only spare time for quick snogging and whispering ‘I love you’s incase if they never see each other.

“No, we haven’t…I mean didn’t-we didn’t…” He was not looking at the doctor because Remus could feel her smiling at him. “But why me? Why was it me in the dream doing those horrible things to him?

“Remus, dreams can be quite deceptive, and not to mention our mind has the power to take shapes of our fears the most terrifyingly in our dreams.”

Remus is speechless, and he is feeling something ugly erupting in his chest. He is quite precise about it. It is guilt. For not taking care of Sirius’ mental health.

“Remus?” Holly calls out very softly. Remus looks up sheepishly, despite the burning sensation creeping his neck and cheeks. “The case is quite clear here. Sirius has something in his hearts of hearts that he isn’t telling you. Something that hasn’t just left him ashamed or traumatized but also he is quite uncertain if this is something he should talk about. I assume that he is not giving it the importance to discuss this with you. And at the same time, you are not giving him the attention he wants from you. You two have been through misfortunes that has left you both listless and empty. You need to fill each other with love and happiness. Any love gestures will do. Let the other know that you are here for them in every possible way.”

Remus feels like his legs are giving out, even though he is sitting on a very comfortable armchair.

“Go, get your man. He needs you. He just doesn’t have the heart to bear loneliness. He is suppressing himself for you because he think this is what you want.”

No, this is not what I want! He makes a mental note to himself. And how could I not want Sirius? Remus knows that he is lying to himself about the war being the only reason for their lack of physical contact. He knows that there has been lack of communication which has followed the current problem, landing them here.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone in that house.” Remus mumbles.

“No, Remus, you did the right thing.” Holly retorts gently, “This is what he needed. To think straight with himself and be sane. You being there would have been too suffocating for him. Clearly, you needed someone to put sense in you. Your welcome.”

She is smiling amusingly, and Remus can’t help but agree. He is leaving when Dr. Holly calls him out and he turns to her.

“Say, Remus, what flowers does your better half loves the most?”

Roses. It is an automatic reply like he doesn’t need to think for even a second. Red Roses. Very cliché Sirius Black. Remus bites back a chuckle and tells her.

“Oh boy, Remus, you have a hopeless romantic in that house sulking alone, and what you are doing to him is brutal.” She is grinning at him, and he is quite grateful of her for not scolding him because he suddenly feels that he deserves it. He was too distant while being next to Sirius. He would much rather prefer to take responsibility for all of this, and make things right between them.

He apparates in front of Grimmauld Place 12, clutching a bouquet of fresh red roses. He grimaces when the scent fills his nostrils, and the idea of being above forty and doing such gesture is making him nervous. He enters the house, and suddenly stops in his track to find that the hallway is not dark anymore, it is kindled up by so many candles and enchanted stardust floating in mid-air, taking various beautiful colors. For a second, he thinks he is somewhere else. Maybe 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place? But then Sirius emerges with a pop, wearing an apron, his hair is neatly tied in a bun. He is also wearing black robes, and he has shaved but there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius walks towards him and he is saying a lot of things with the weak smile on his face, but Remus is staring him with utter fascination. He is suddenly feeling very young to realize that Sirius can still make him fluster with nothing but looking like that. Remus cannot let out a word from his mouth, but then he is broken out of his trance of swooning when he registers those silver orbs are widening, and then glistening. Remus feels an unexpected panic rising in his stomach because now tears are streaming down Sirius’ cheeks. And before he knows it, Sirius has crashed his lips on his. Remus cannot help but kiss him back. His damp is skin rubbing his, and they both rests their forehead against each other.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, pressing a kiss on his nose. Remus has forgotten that he have brought roses for the love of his life until Sirius is taking them, which is when he realizes the reason for why Sirius started crying suddenly. A weak grin appears on his lips, and Remus realize that he has never felt so happy in a longest while. “You remembered that I like roses.”

“Of course, darling.” Remus says teasingly, reaching forward to capture Sirius’ lips again, but then Sirius is laughing merrily which instantly warms Remus’ heart. Even so, he leans further and kisses him a little more earnestly. Sirius laces his arms around him, and Remus takes their height difference as a benefit to scoop him up in his arms.

“Moony…”

“Yes, love?” Remus nuzzles his nose against Sirius’ cheeks, as they stumbles in the nearby drawing room.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness returns.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Remus says, “It was a bad dream, Sirius. I know that you love me, and I love you. It’s enough and we should be forever together and we should probably get married and have a new life and live in a country or something far away from everything and all and—“

Sirius is gawking at him, dumbfounded, and Remus realizes that he is rambling. He wants to slap himself right now. He might have ruined the night he is intending to make the most opportune.

“I mean…I—Sirius…” He knows that he is still scared. No matter how much the therapist has tried convincing him, he knows that no one can convince him completely, but Sirius Black. He wants to walk past the layer of no communication, and he does.

“Sirius…I can never hurt you. I can never even imagine of hurting you that way. I certainly have hurt you emotionally in the past, and maybe I still am, and if you feel like it then please talk to me, tell me if I have hurt you. But I have never hurt you physically, Sirius. I have never. It is worrying me. Have I done anything? Don’t fear, Sirius, I promise you that I am not walking unless you order me away.”

Sirius slightly shakes his head at the end of Remus’ statement. He cups his face and places a lingering and soft kiss on his forehead.

“It is you. The real you.” He whispers against his skin, and it confuses Remus. “Remus…It was not you in the dream. It was you in front of me but this…” Sirius ran his hands on the latter body, squeezing his arms with fondness swimming in his eyes, “this feeling of you, your arms, these hands and…just you... were not  in the dream. It was him. The same feeling.”

“Him?” Remus knows where this is going. He already has his suspicions.

“My father.” Sirius’ reply doesn’t fail to make his eyes instinctively wide. The thought makes him shudder and Sirius slips away from his embrace, looking miserably lost.

There is one question that is still not planning on leaving his mind and he feels he needs to ask this from Sirius, no matter what the answer, and he does.

“Why still me?”

Remus expects that he will receive a very disgusting reply from Sirius, or a glare, or maybe he has completely ruin their night and Sirius will be shutting him out for good. But—

“I came face to face with my boggart the other day in the ministry.” Sirius replies, looking straight in his eyes. Remus can recall that Sirius’ boggart was his mother when they discovered in their third year’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. However, Sirius must have read his mind when he continues, “It is not my mother anymore.”

There is a brief, tensed silence between them.

“It was you.”  Remus’ heart suddenly stops. He fights to keep a poker face. “You were there looking at me with disgust and…” He can see that Sirius is struggling through his words as if they are causing him physical pain. “…you were looking at me with such hate and you said you were leaving me because you were tired of me. You…you have never looked at me like that…”

Tears are spilling from his grey eyes.

“You have always looked at me with warmth and humbleness, but that image of you is not leaving my mind. It is there and it is making me believe that it is true, Remus, because I don’t deserve you. You are so worthy of love, I am not. I was never worthy of love. I drove you mad in our relationship. I betrayed you once, and then made you believe that I can betray you twice. But you…you never did anything like that. You compromised yourself for me, in every way. You dealt with me for a very long time, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. It would hurt. So much, because for me, it’s hard to imagine my life without you after everything we’ve been through, together.”

Remus is numbly standing, just looking at Sirius’ face flooding with tears. He feels like his heart is breaking and mending, breaking and then again mending, back and forth. He wishes internally that Sirius’ words may leave his heart mended, because he knows he cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss, or another tragedy.

“Know this,” Sirius comes close and touches his wet cheeks, which is when he realize that the tears are also silently rolling down his own face. “…that I love you, Remus. I know you can’t hurt me. You’ve never because you have a pure heart, Moony.”

This is when Remus doesn’t take anymore. He shoves Sirius in his arms and sobs in his shoulder. He feels Sirius relaxing into his embrace because he is placing feather-light kisses on Remus’ exposed neck.

“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius.” He doesn’t know for what he is exactly asking his forgiveness, but he knows deep down inside his heart that it is for everything that has happened in their lives.

“But no,” He pulls out to face Sirius, desperately reaches his hands to intertwine with his, “I am not leaving you, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to be away from you. I can never be tired of you, Padfoot! And I can’t be surer about that. You think I compromised my comfort for you? That was not a compromise. That was my love for you. And it still is, here. I never regretted our relationship because of you. I did once because of myself because you had to deal with me, my cursed and poverty-stricken life. I am nothing compared to you, and yet you want me. How can I not love you? How can I disgust you? Or hate you? It’s something that can never exist when it comes to you. I don’t think I loved anyone like that except for you. I still want you, only you. I love you, a little too much, please believe me.”

Sirius has his forehead pressed with his, as he murmurs against his cheek, “I believe you, Remus.”

They kiss and they kiss for Merlin knows how long. Remus is suddenly yanked back into one of his favorite memories with Sirius, when they were at Hogwarts and it was their seventh year. He remembers that those days were Christmas holidays because they were fooling around in their dorm very peacefully, with no fear of James or Peter interrupting them. The both lovebirds were the only ones who didn’t leave for their homes. The erratic breathing, the electric excitement in their bodies, the eagerness to explore each other’s mouth is something Remus can distinctly recall from that day, at this very moment because it feels just the same as if they are seventeen again.

He reaches for Sirius’ robes to unbutton them when Sirius pulls back gently.

“Wait,” For a second, Remus thinks that this is not what Sirius wants before he smiles romantically, “I hope you have guessed why I am wearing an apron?”

“You cooked?” Remus gapes at him that makes the other laugh gleefully. That laugh makes his heart flutter again like happiness was bubbling out of him. Sirius nods at him.

“I thought I should make up for disrupting your morning, and I know you must have taken a lot of stress at work because of me. So I made your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do this, love, I know cooking is not something you like to do.”

“Wrong!” Sirius gasped dramatically, “I love to cook for you! And besides, you bought these roses for me…” He picks out the bouquet, sniffing its scent, admiring the handiwork, and smiling the entire time as he brushes his fingers around the rims of each petals of the roses. Remus just stares at him like that. He could see the pink flush appearing on Sirius’ cheeks, and he thinks to himself that this is the most scenic view to look at. He suddenly recognizes that all of his exhaustion has dissipated from his body, and he is very much looking forward to the rest of their night.

“Come on, first dinner, and then we’ll see.” Sirius winks, taking him to kitchen when Remus stops him gradually.

“Tell me you are not frightened of me, are you? Be honest with me, Sirius.”

“I was never, Remus. I was frightened of being alone. My own mind was playing tricks on me. But not you, never you.”

Remus sees his eyes are promising.

“Promise me that you will talk to me, about anything like we used to. Just like the old times.” 

“Just like the old times. I promise, Moony.”

Sirius’ eyes returns the glimmer, and they are shinning like they used to before war, or Azkaban. Remus feels the contentment spreading in his heart and comes to a realization that it is all he have been yearning for.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Hey! I literally love your last post so much but I'm confused about the rebels bit (never watched it). How does Rebels criticize the jedi? Thanks!

Aw, thank you! (Lol, this is such an old ask I don’t remember what that post was, but here goes).

Well in s2 Ahsoka, Kanan (a survivor from Order 66) and Ezra (his Padawan) all go to an old Jedi Temple to talk to Yoda about Vader and his Inquisitors (Darksiders who hunt the few remaining Jedi and kidnap Force sensitive kids). Yoda is only there spiritually and the three of them get different visions. Ahsoka sees Anakin as Vader, and Kanan has to fight several enemies and eventually admit he can't protect his Padawan from the world, only guide him (which prompts the vision to finally make him a Jedi Knight, as he survived Order 66 as a Padawan.)

And Ezra... Ugh. Ezra had a previous encounter with Yoda, in which he got his lightsaber crystal. Basically Yoda asked him why he wanted to be a Jedi, and Ezra had to do some self-examination and eventually realized that helping and protecting people made him feel alive, which greatly pleased Yoda who told him he might become a Jedi after all. That's a really great exchange and I love the character development Ezra gets, as he starts by saying he wants never to feel powerless and eventually realizes that's not the right answer.

But in this second encounter, as Ezra asks how they can defeat the Inquisitors, Yoda basically says that fighting is rarely the right path. And to illustrate that, he says that line about the Jedi being arrogant and joining the war swiftly "in their arrogance," which really bothers me. He also says they were "consumed by the Dark Side", which is why they're now gone. In all fairness, he also mentions that they were motivated by fear, which is partially true. 

Now, I write analyses and I try to be intellectually honest about them, because ignoring contradicting stuff weakens your argument instead of helping you. Except this time, I really can't accept this quote. I have an excuse, Lucas wasn't involved in Rebels so it's not the highest canon in my opinion (the 6 movies + TCW are, here are the quotes justifying my position), and I feel like that assertion is out of character for Yoda, ignoring his ST ghost appearances, and also plainly factually incorrect.

I understand that Ezra really needed to be taught not to always seek to fight. At this point, he's still an emotional kid who occasionally struggles with the Dark Side. Not fighting is important to a Jedi's path, so I can understand Yoda's intention. But the example he uses? According to Lucas, the Jedi were drafted in the war. That's not jumping into a conflict out of arrogance, that's literally being dragged there against your will. And sure, there’s Geonosis, but how exactly is rescuing a bunch of your people that’s getting slaughtered by a Sith Lord the same thing as arrogantly jumping into a fight? Like, what’s the option here? Not go, and let an innocent Senator and a bunch of Jedi be murdered?

It's like Rebels!Yoda isn't acknowledging that the war was fake and that a Sith Lord engineered it as the perfect trap (which is recurring problem in Rebels; at one point Ezra, Kanan and Rex have to fight an old Separatist tactical droid and Ezra "solves" the Clone Wars by pointing out that nobody won except the Empire, so really they were on the same side all along, and he gets praised for doing what "a bunch of Jedi, senators and Clones couldn't do," ie getting both sides to talk to each other – except wtf??? setting aside that the Jedi and Rex were aware of the war being fake by the end of it, and that the Separatists were openly led by a Sith Lord and attempted to commit genocide several times in TCW and did commit mass murder, and reduced like several worlds to slavery or starvation and were backed by the worst big corporations you could imagine, the war would NOT have ended if the two sides had tried talking it out. 1) The Senate made it illegal 2) the big corporations arranged for terrorist attacks on both sides the one time they tried to negotiate so the war would drag on and they'd get more money out of it 3) Sidious. Was. Controlling. Everything. What. The. Heck. Would. Have. Been. Accomplished. By. Negotiating.)  Plus the question of whether or not the Jedi should even fight is like... constantly raised by the Jedi during TCW, so I really can’t see it as “oh wow we didn’t even take the time to think and we got killed because of it, we really sucked.” 

Seriously, there’s this S6 quote: 

MACE: Are you sure we are taking the right path? YODA: The right path, no. The only path, yes. Designed by the Dark Lord of the Sith, this web is. For now, play his game, we must.

Like yeah, totally rushing in and being eager to fight lol. Nothing to do with being boxed in and having no alternatives. 

So yeah that's bothers me and I don't think it jibes with the rest of canon. I don't remember Yoda telling Luke (who, in the beginning, is as eager to fight as Ezra is) that the Jedi "disappeared" because of some fault of their own, or because of an eagerness to fight. (Seriously, pussyfooting around the fact that the Jedi were slaughtered grates me.) The OT never, ever, ever implies that the destruction of the Jedi Order was their fault - and unless you assume that the OT is “pro-Jedi propaganda” (*laughs in dumb youtube comments*) then I don’t see Rebels weaving it into its narrative as legitimate.

Again, choosing alternatives to fighting is a great lesson on a personal level, but it doesn't work on the scale of the Rebels/Empire conflict - or the Jedi/Sith one. Ezra should often choose not to fight because of what it'll do to his soul. The Rebels should not stop fighting because there is no cohabitation with something as evil as the Empire. Imo Yoda is always presented as wise enough to know the difference. 

The last thing that makes me think it's out of character is Yoda's spiritual journey in TCW s6. He gets all of his flaws thrown into his face and has to conquer them – he has to face his literal Dark Side and he wins. And yet at no point during that arc is he ever made to conquer his ‘Jedi arrogance’ or whatever. He has to face his worst fear (first vision, all the Jedi dying), let go of his attachments (second vision, him having to accept that he can’t live in a perfect world where everything is beautiful and no one is dead), and reaffirm who he is as a Jedi (third vision, refusing to give up on Anakin and trying to save him rather than to kill Sidious) but at no point is he ever made to recognize that wow, the Jedi are the worst for fighting. 

I’d argue that the very purpose of the visions showing him Order 66 and Anakin falling are to make him accept that these things are completely beyond his control - and as such, not his fault. He doesn’t get to fix things, because the fate of the Order is not in their own hands. It is, in fact, in Anakin’s (from a thematical/narrative standpoint). Yoda has a hard time with it (actually he almost shuts down when he first sees everybody dead and his first reaction is to say that he failed them, so I can’t accept Yoda blaming his grandkids for dying) but he accepts it in the end, when he tells Mace and Obi-Wan he’s not certain one ever wins a war, but they might still find ‘victory for all time’ (referring to balance aka Sidious’ death in RotJ). 

So anyway that’s my beef with Rebels!Yoda. Not hate on Rebels though, there are many parts of it that I really, really love - but some of them kinda infuriate me, and this is one of them. 

[djmarinizelablog]

A Conversation with the Author of City Comma State, kippielovesyou/ForcedSimile

Had a short interview with the author of City Comma State, @kippielovesyou/ForcedSimile and asked her if I could share our conversation online---she said yes!

Did you know that Hange and Levi in her work was based on Spongebob and Squidward's interactions?

Read the entire transcript below:

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

djmarinizela (D): if i may ask, where and how did you learn to write so good? what inspired you to write city comma state?

kippielovesyou (K): i don't mind at all! it's genuinely just years of practice. i've been scribbling stories since kindergarten (i had a long standing multi part series in first grade about all my classmates). i think one thing is certain: having a strong understanding of characters whether you borrow them or they are your own is pretty key.

a lot of points [in Isayama's story] could have been better thought out or tighter. however, we all love his characters. a weak plot (or in the case of city comma state: no plot) can be ignored or forgiven if everyone loves the characters

i'll be honest, i spend a lot of time trying to understand why a character does things or reacts a certain way. and yes, sometimes, that means i act out scenes in my car while driving. it's embarrassing...

there's a lot more to it, but to me that's the most important thing

as far as how city comma state came about: i wanted to do a slow burn romance centered around levihan, but I also wanted to show how all these characters care about and support each other. i knew in the confines of the AoT world, anyone could die at any moment and that didn't work with the softer feelings i wanted people to enjoy. how can you enjoy the friendship between mike and hange if he dies? it's possible, but it upends all the warmth we were enjoying. so i wrote an AU. i wanted to keep levi with a rough background with many walls, and i wanted hange to have her own issues that they can work through together. and i love the idea of them adopting/supporting the 104th kids without the fear of sending them out to war

D: your answer is so profound and helpful, thank you so much! I can honestly say you pretty nailed it when it comes to character development---everyone has a character arc in your fic! [my next question] is about the gender discourse in your story. I know you started City Comma State pretty early in 2014, but even back then, the nonbinary identity wasn't widely known before. How were you able to flesh out the discourse on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and play it out on the dialogues and backstories?

K: it's pretty funny, a lot of the LGBTQIA+ has always been discussed i my family. we've had gay, lesbian, trans, gnc, bi and asexual people in my family for generations, as far back as the 20s (that we're aware of). hange's gender being debated made it a prime opportunity to write such an experience, some of which is borrowed from my own life. when i read older chapters i see certain slips in dialogue where i could have made an effort to be more neutral. we're in such a binary society that sometimes even if you feel in between, it slips in. in fact, i'm sure some people might take issue with the fact that i stuck with she/her for hange. i'm not sure i'd make a different decision today. i like this version of hange the way she is, and i hope hange's nb/gnc status comes across in more than just pronouns. hange's full identity is so much more than that and that is what i wanted to explore. and i think no matter where you fall on the whole LGBTQIA+ spectrum, you are more than just the label you've chosen. yes, in this story levi is bi/pan. but i don't think he ever says that explicitly, and he avoids labels. it seems fussy to him, which feels levi. discourse would not be his thing. i think even having a debate about whether or not he was bi or pan wouldn't be something he would want to engage in, he just wants to do what he wants. instead it's heavily implied. i think we forget since so many of us experience this discourse online and want to label things that there are people who don't want to involve themselves in it. it goes back to how would this character act. for instance, based on how levi is in canon, i can see many ways to interpret his sexuality. there's cues for a lot of different takes. but levi doesn't seem like the type that would need a definitive label in order to be happy. there's many ways to interpret hange's gender (and i've written several takes, some where they're more insistent on their pronouns), but i think hange's more excited to explore life than worry too much about much about how they're addressed or how someone talks about them. maybe another character might be more caught up in labels but hange and levi not so much

D: No, don't be sorry, I am more than thankful for your answer. I really appreciate it! I don't get to have these kinds of conversations with other writers, so I am grateful for your insights.

K: a really funny anecdote for you: i loosely based the idea of my levihan off of spongebob and squidward. you know, since they start out as neighbors and hange is more invasive than levi is used to

D: that's.... a stretch. but thanks for the tidbit! was the annual star wars contest also something that you do in your family? that part as well as all the geeky references won me over tbh!

K: it was an extremely loose inspiration! but hange mowing her lawn in the middle of the night so levi wouldn't be mad at her is on par with a spongebob move. and um...my family, while they can be a little nerdy, is not nerdy enough to do the star wars tournament! i made that up entirely

i just imagined hange having eccentric family, so they have very unusual traditions that none of the children question

i'll be the first to say a lot of city comma state is unrealistic and a little bit of a domestic fantasy. there's a lot of problems with money, employment and such that hange and levi SHOULD have but that's a little too real and not what i want to be the focus of this story. like hange landing a job that gives her a day off and she doesn't suffer a severe pay cut as a result? unrealistic. but i have other things i want to tackle. plus, in canon we have humans that turn into giants and 3D maneuver gear which would probably kill its user in real life. i think making certain parts of this fanfic a little idealistic is okay

D: are there other works that influence your writing? or authors that inspire you to write?

K: There's too many influences to count. reading is so important and even things that are bad are helpful. i actually was trying to read a YA series that seemed really cool and i had to stop reading because so many things were so annoying (I won't reveal which, since i think it has a small but dedicated fandom and i don't want to rain on their parade, it is purely a taste thing to some degree). instead of being upset and thinking that I wasted my time, i took note of what made me stop reading (that is a long list of things i didn't like so i won't bother to outline each one). even if it's something as small as a fanfiction that you had to click out of, ask yourself why you stopped. Especially with fanfiction: you already like these characters, what you're looking for is usually pretty specific (a pairing, an au, a specific scenario, etc). why, when this author has ticked all your superficial boxes, did you stop reading? and when you love something as yourself why. Ask yourself why you love the source material even! do you really love the plotlines and the world or do you love the characters? Is the dialogue strong? something to also pay attention to: people in general. how do they speak, gestures, facial expressions. really listen to how people talk (Youtube podcasts are really good for this!).

i think people would be surprised, a lot of what i really like to read is very all over. from surrealist novels, to classic literature, to science fiction aimed at children (i'm finally reading animorphs after almost 20 years!). and what i write for original fiction doesn't reflect what i'm probably best known for.

D: thanks for this, Kippie! looking forward to reading more of your works!

K: i'm still amazed at the response! writing is so solitary to me and i don't really look at my numbers. it never occurred to me that people would be discussing my fic!

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If you haven't read Kippie's Levihan fic yet, here's the link to get started: City Comma State

[blinder-secrets]

Settling Debts - Tommy

‘Can’t we just say goodnight?’ & ‘I don’t trust anybody. Don’t take it personally.’

prompt list

wordcount: 4624

ao3 link

You were twenty-six when you broke Tommy Shelby’s heart. He’d just turned thirty-two, the business in London had settled, and everything was going right again. That is, until you’d told him you couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t, not anymore. Not when he slipped further and further from you each day. Not when the Tommy you’d fallen for had changed in the process, had gotten lost between the canals and the city.

He’d tried to offer you a ring, but you’d said no. Marriage won’t fix it, Tom. You couldn’t be a wife to a man that forgot you existed sometimes. You wouldn’t sit alone in a house, waiting for him to come home, wondering if he was even alive, while you spun the gold on your finger. It wasn’t what you wanted. So, you’d told him that and left before he could change your mind.

It was the only time you’d been grateful of his pride. He didn’t come after you, he didn’t chase you down, his own ego wouldn’t allow him to. You’d broken his heart, and he’d let you. It was better that way.

To say that was the end of your relations, though, would be a lie. You may have ended your relationship, but you couldn’t shift the stain Shelby business had left on your life. No-one would hire you, so you worked in their London offices. No-one would befriend you, so you drank with John, and Isaiah, when they were in town. You saw Tommy at every event, family party, and business meeting. You bumped into him when you were visiting your parents. In fact, the bitter irony of it all, was that you saw him more once you’d left him, than you ever did when you were together. But after a while it became the norm; it stopped hurting once it had.

Then, he had gotten married. You were invited, you’d smiled as they kissed. Clapped at the speeches. Honestly, it was a good night, you were happy for them. Both of them. He’d found someone who could keep him whole, and she did so without compromising on herself — it was what he needed. That should have been cherished, it should have lasted. When she died you mourned with him. For him. You picked up the phone when he rang, but you never went to him, he never asked you to. He grieved alone.

He did the same when John went. Though, that was hard for all of you. His funeral was the one family event where you’d felt you belonged, like you’d be there even without your history with Tommy. John was your friend first.

When the trouble with Changretta was over, Tommy decided to throw a party, though it felt more like an arrangement for us to breathe. A message to the family that it was done and they could finally come up for air. It was only a small guest list, those closest to him, but somehow you made the cut. You almost didn’t believe him when he asked you to come. Me? Why? You’re family, he said, you’re one of us. After the time he’d had, the stress, the loss, you’d told him you’d be there. You’d said it with a smile like it meant something to you, like it felt nice to be included.

The reality is that it doesn’t feel nice anymore, it feels like an obligation. A debt you didn’t know you had been paying since you’d left him. You could end things with Tommy but you could never move past him, not really, not on your own accord.

‘You’re here,’ is how Tommy greets you on the night, his hands limp by his sides as he stands before you in the doorway. He’d come to meet you there once he’d heard the car. No hello, no smile, just a quiet acknowledgement of your arrival.

‘Yes, Tommy,’ you answer, ‘I said I’d come.’ You look over your shoulder, gesturing to Isaiah with a jut of your chin. ‘I got a lift with your youngest and brightest Blinder. He drives well.’

Tommy nods, looking into your eyes for something you aren’t prepared to give him.

‘Are you going to let us in?’ you ask. If he wants to stare, he can do it from the warmth of the inside, and without the company of your oblivious friend.

‘I hope there’s food,’ Isaiah says, rubbing his hands together. He looks between you and Tommy with a grin, unaware of any difference in your behaviours.

His statement works to reanimate your host though, and he steps aside, extending an arm into the house. ‘There’s food,’ he says, nodding again. ‘Come on, come in.’

Despite the circumstances, you are glad you came. There’s alcohol and laughing, conversations you’d never expect to hear from Shelby lips. The food’s good, the atmosphere is easy, the guests are relaxed. Everyone is grateful to be free, to feel free, to have each other still. You’ve never heard Tommy crack so many jokes, dry as they are. You’ve not seen him smile this much since he married Grace.

When Arthur stands, announcing that he has something to say, you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes along with the rest of them. Maybe you are one of them. Maybe once you’re in, you’re never out again. Not while there’s still breath in your lungs.

‘I’d like to make a proposal,’ Arthur booms, ‘to insist that Tommy here, takes some time off.’

You laugh and you aren’t the only one to do so.

‘Time you took a holiday, Tom. Put your feet up. War’s over.’

This one was, but all Tommy knows is war. You can see in his expression, the one beneath the smile he’s giving to his family, to Arthur, that he knows it too. It isn’t in him to rest.

‘Alright,’ he says, 'thank-you, Arthur.’ He raises his glass and the group follows. ‘To peace.’

‘Peace,’ you repeat, catching his eye. He tips his whiskey toward you and then you drink in unison, holding each other’s gaze until the line is disrupted by another figure.

It’s Polly. Her cheeks are rouged from the celebrations, her movement lagging as she sits on the arm of the chair opposite. ‘You never told me what happened to that Irishman,’ she says, ‘the one with the eyes.’

You laugh, letting your focus settle on her rather than the man she’s blocking. ‘I don’t have to tell you things for you to know, Pol.’

After that, the night slips away from you. It’s near twelve when you decide you’ve had enough. You say your goodbyes to everyone, working through the dwindling group, until you’re left with just Tommy and Isaiah to speak to. From the way Isaiah’s behaving, sitting loud and boisterous with Finn, it’s obvious that your driver has forgotten all about his duties. You’re already in your coat, already clutching your bag with your mind set on leaving, but seeing him laugh so happily makes you stop. It’s not too long of a journey, but enough to make you hesitate — if he’s ready to leave is one thing, if he’s in any fit state to man a car, is another entirely.

You’re too caught up in your indecision to acknowledge Tommy arriving beside you.

‘You’re leaving?’ he asks, standing parallel, his gaze on the boys also.

‘Trying to.’ You sigh. ‘I’m at the Midland, though I don’t think we’d make it that far.’

He clears his throat once and says, ‘Leave him be, I’ll take you back.’

‘Really?’ Your eyebrows raise, neck craning to look at him. ‘Aren’t you drunk?’

Tommy shrugs, still staring ahead. ‘Either that, or you go with him in the morning.’

After spending the night, he implies, after staying in the guest room of the house he once shared with his wife. Doors down from the nursery his son sleeps in.

‘No,’ you decide, ‘no, I think I’ll take your first offer.’

‘Suit yourself.’

You explain to Isaiah, who looks very happy with the idea. Not that he didn’t want to take you, of course, not that you were ever a bother to him. You watch him scramble to backtrack with an amused smile.

‘I love driving you places, really,’ he stresses. ‘I just meant it’s great to—‘

‘Siah, it’s fine. Honestly.’ You laugh, letting him cling to your hand still. ‘Just have a good night, yeah? Don’t over-do it.’

He agrees, nodding wildly, then goes back to Finn with a fresh set of bottles under his arm.

After waving goodbye, again, to the room, you follow Tommy down the hall to the door. He takes his coat from the hook, pulling it on as you hurry to catch up to him. For someone so keen to have you there in the first place, he was certainly in a rush to show you out now.

It’s only once you’ve both stepped out into the cold, that you realise it isn’t the case at all. He isn’t keen to leave, just keen to have you alone, to have you by himself with nothing but the quiet and the night.

You’re behind him at first, but when you step down onto the gravel, he turns so quickly that you’re toe-to-toe before you can move out of the way.

‘Tom—‘

Your surprise is cut off by his lips. He has your face in his hands, his thumbs holding you steady by the curve of your cheeks. He’s kissing you. He’s kissing you and it takes you so long to realise, that he pulls back before you can respond to it. You can feel him watching you, waiting for a hint, but your eyes fall to the floor. Your fingertips ghost over your mouth.

Dropping his chin, he steps away and reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. There’s a quiet between you now that neither wants to break. You don’t think either of you know how to, or what to say. You’re still trying to work out if you should have kissed him back.

After what feels like a lifetime, but is really only long enough for half of the cigarette to burn away between his lips, Tommy clears his throat and speaks again. ‘Right, shall we go?’

It’s forgotten to him, then. He’s already buried the kiss under the list of things that happened, and then didn’t happen, and now will never be spoken of. You aren’t sure you can afford him the luxury this time.

‘Is that why you asked me here, Tommy?’ you ask, quietly, like you’re embarrassed by it. You aren’t, of course, you’re just more worried that you’re being assumptive. That he won’t react well to it.

He directs his smoke upwards, turning in the last minute to shrug his eyebrows at you. ‘Forget it, right? Didn’t happen.’

Except that it did, and the more you think about it, the more you wish it had continued. Or hadn’t begun at all. The conflict bites at your throat. One second, you find yourself wanting him for the nostalgia of it, but then in the next, reason corrects you. You know what he’s like. He’s just looking for comfort, something to take the edge off. Something that’ll last longer than booze and drugs.

‘You kissed me, Tom.’

He sighs, his face is pointed to dark sky. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘I can’t be that person,’ you say. You’re reminding him as much as yourself. ‘I know it’s been hard but I can’t, that hasn’t changed.’

‘Have I asked anything of you?’ he replies dryly, then his head straightens and he redirects his gaze to yours. ‘Tell me, who have I asked you to be, eh? Hm?’

You chew the inside of your lip. He’s getting irritated, and once he does the conversation will go nowhere. He’s too stubborn. Too full of pride, and ego, and denial. Too Tommy to make progress.

‘It’s just a kiss, [y/n].’ He can insist all he likes, but you know he’s lying. He wouldn’t kiss you just for the sake of it. At least, not like that.

‘Fine.’ You lift your bag from where it was dangling and set the strap back onto your shoulder. ‘So take me home.’

He doesn’t move, he just looks away again and takes another drag from his cigarette.

Sighing, you rub at your forehead, closing your eyes to save them from staring at him any longer. This was exactly what you feared. Every time you saw him, every time you ended up alone together, you were worried he’d do something like that. Worried he’d undo all the work you’d put in, take down the walls with one stupid, boyish, action. It was always a likelihood — now it was reality. You don’t want to go back to how you were, you’re happy separate from him. But, fuck, he doesn’t half make it difficult. You never question your resolve quite as much as you do when he’s close by.

‘I’m sorry, alright?’ He breaks your train of thought, grumbling the words into the dark. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘What?’ You scoff before you’ve even opened your eyes. When you do look at him, you almost expect him to be smiling, but he’s serious. His expression’s hard. ‘Are you apologising, Tommy?’

His jaw sets. Then, he nods.

‘Wow.’ You smile accidentally. ‘That’s new.’

Shaking his head, he laughs to himself, though there’s no humour in it. It’s one of those disbelieving laughs that’s always grated you the wrong way. ‘Always fuckin’ fighting me,’ he says.

‘I don’t,’ you reply sharply. ‘I’m not.’

‘You don’t trust me anymore, do you?’ he asks, half-smiling, like he’s finally solved the riddle that’s been plaguing him. ‘That’s what it is. After all this, after everything, you don’t trust me.’

You fold your arms over yourself. ‘I don’t trust anyone,’ you quip. ‘Don’t take it personally.’ His swerve in topic has caught you off-guard, and the response that you’d intended to reassure him, had come out so quickly that it looked more like a lie than anything else would’ve. ‘Surely you know what that’s like, Tom?’

‘We’re not talking ‘bout me.’ He finishes his smoke and flicks the butt away from him. ‘You don’t trust me,’ he says, pointing at you, ‘and that’s why I can’t kiss you, at me own party, without a fuckin’ inquisition about it.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘No?’

His smugness is starting to get to you. Everything you’ve ever said, years ago and now, has gone right over his head. It’s barely even grazed the surface. ‘God,’ you sneer, letting your irritation take the reins, ‘you really are insufferable.’

‘Yeah.’ He scoffs, nodding. ‘Yeah, but you still came.’

The tension in your chest snaps. Any grip you had on civility is lost, tossed aside into the stones of the driveway. 

‘Because I feel guilty, Tommy, because I left and your life has gone to shit ever since.’ Your voice is straining in your throat, but you aren’t shouting. Not yet. ‘Do you think I’d even be here,’ you continue, 'if I didn’t feel like I had to be? Like I owed it to you to say yes?’

‘Owed it to me?’

‘Yes, fucking owed, Tommy. We broke up years ago and I’m still here.’ You hadn’t gotten away yet because he hadn’t let you, he pulled you back every time the distance grew.

Opposite, he’s unmoving. His face is blank to your outburst. He just stands there and takes it, like you haven’t dowsed him in undeserving pity. Like you haven’t just taken his hospitality, his loyalty, and thrown it back in his face like you hated him for it. His lack of response is enough to send you tumbling into self-reflection.

‘Fuck!’ You turn away from him, then back again before the regret can sink any deeper. ‘Fuck, sorry. Sorry, Tom, I shouldn’t have said any of that.’

At that moment, at that exact, horrible, moment, your solitude is disturbed. In a clutter of noise, Arthur comes tumbling out of the house, gun raised and pointed vaguely in the direction of the both of you. If it were any one else, you’d be scared, but it’s just him; just Arthur and his habits.  

‘Who the fuck’s this?’ he spits, his words bleeding into one another.

‘Arthur?’ Tommy is first to respond, lifting his hands. ‘Christ, put the fucking gun down.’

‘Oh.’ Realisation stops him dead. ‘I thought you’d gone, Tom,’ he says, quieter but no clearer. His arm lowers sheepishly. He’s so drunk he can’t even stand straight, he sways as he talks. ‘I heard shouting,’ he explains.

’S’alright, brother,’ Tommy says, voice tight. He’s using that tone that he so often does with Arthur. It’s somewhere between condescension and thin, waining patience. ‘Go back inside, eh?’

‘We were just talking,’ you add, hoping it’ll help to usher him away. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Right, right, yeah, course.’ He’s nodding, and waving the gun at you like it’s no different from his hand. ‘Shouldn’t have assumed.’

‘It’s okay.’ You smile at him though you doubt he can even see it through the dark and the blur of the alcohol. Out the corner of your eye, you notice Tommy turning away from him, sighing with his hands pressed to his face.

Arthur just stands there, rambling. ‘Beautiful night, though, beautiful,’ he says.

‘It is,’ you agree, looking between him and Tommy. ‘Sorry, Arthur, we were—‘

‘Yep,’ he barks, interrupting you suddenly. ‘I know, I know, hm, as you were.’ With that he’s away, holding his hands above his head in surrender, keeping them there even once his back’s turned.

You watch him until you cant see him anymore, until the door shuts and you’re alone again, in the silence with Tommy. The previous tension has dissipated, dropped and sunken into the ground beneath. In the quiet, it seems stupid to attempt to carry on with the conversation, you can hardly remember how it had gotten to that point in the first place.

‘I don’t think we’ll ever get anywhere like this, Tommy,’ you say, finally turning back to him. He nods, while his hands push his hair into place, smoothing it over more times than necessary. ‘I am sorry for what I said,’ you add, still feeling the guilt twinge in your stomach.

‘No.’ He shakes his head, pouting slightly. ‘No, you’ve nothing to say sorry for, it’s not your fault.’ His hands tuck into his pockets, his eyelids droop. He looks tired. Whether it’s from you, or the night, you can’t tell. ‘I’m the one who’s cursed,’ he says.

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘You’re the only one.’

‘Tom.’ You find yourself stepping toward him, your hand reaching for his arm. When it settles on his bicep, just above the elbow, his gaze follows it. ‘You aren’t cursed,’ you tell him, ‘you’re just…’ Unlucky? Destructive? There isn’t really a word for it, at least not one that will make him feel any better.

He huffs a breath through his nose. ‘It’s alright,’ he says. ‘You don’t have to.’

You nod. You pull your hand back and hold yourself instead. The empty silence that seems to linger around the two of you is back, though this time it’s sad. Bleak. If there was ever a moment where you felt truly alienated from him, it was now, you were living it. Or, at least, that’s what you suppose it is. You’ve never felt anything like it. He’s looking at you as if he understands at last what was lost between you, like he’s only now realised that you’ve gone. The ache you felt that day has finally been passed onto him. 

Maybe it’s relief, then, not alienation. He understands and he isn’t bitter, he’s sad. You can finally agree on that.

‘Do you regret it?’ he asks. ‘Leaving?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ you answer quietly. ‘It was the right thing at the time.’

He wets his lips, nodding. ‘And now?’

‘Don’t ask me that.’ Your voice cracks slightly. You shake your head like it’ll stop the thought from latching. If you shut it down fast enough, it won’t do any damage, it won’t make you consider.

‘Already have,’ he says. He’s looking for that something again, that hint of desire in your eyes. He stares in wait of it.

You can’t find an answer — your tongue has swallowed itself whole. There’s nothing to push him back, nothing to stop the hope he’s starting to build. He needs telling no, but you can’t find it within yourself to do so, you can’t blink the idea of it back.

‘I’m taking time off,’ he starts as he steps toward you, palms open and reaching. ‘Spend it with me,’ he says. ‘We can go on the road, eh? You and me, travelling. We can see your cousins in Wales.’

‘Tommy…’

‘Or London, we can go back to London.’

‘Tommy.’ You stop him before he picks up anymore momentum, your hand pushing flat against his chest. ‘You’re going too fast.’

‘It’s nothing we haven’t done before,’ he counters.

‘We haven’t even, I mean, we can barely keep a conversation, Tom. I don’t know.’

‘Well, let’s start with that,’ he says, ‘let’s talk.’ He’s stepping closer still, his hands have taken your waist, and he’s looking at your lips. Just your lips.

‘Talk?’ you mirror, feeling the air catch in your throat afterwards. You’re chest-to-chest now and his eyes still haven’t lifted. If he were any closer you’d feel his heart beat with your own.

‘Just talk,’ he insists. His voice is low, dragging. ‘We never talk.’

He’s saying things he doesn’t mean. He’s moved a hand to your face, his fingertips trace the line of your cheekbone, just below your eye. He’s close and he’s soft, and he’s Tommy. He’s always Tommy, your Tommy.

‘I can’t think like this,’ you say quickly, softly, too nervous to add any force to the words. ‘I can’t go away with you, Tom.’

‘I know,’ he murmurs, eyes flitting across every inch of your face. He’s drinking you in. He’s missed you, you can see it, you can feel it in how he’s holding you. He’s cherishing it all over again, taking stock of what he lost. Once he’s satisfied, he closes the gap between you and pushes his mouth on yours.

He kisses you and this time you kiss him back.

You melt into it, letting him part your lips with the edge of his tongue. Your arms go around his neck, your fingers to the back of his head. You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like you’d never stopped doing it. It’s wrong. It can only ever be bad, for you, for him, but you’re doing it. You want it. It fills you with a warmth you’d long forgotten. The taste of him slips down your throat like liquor, burning the sides. Stifling the chatter in your head.

All too soon, he pulls back, dragging your bottom lip with him before letting go. His head tilts, forehead resting against yours, breath shaky and fogging between your two mouths. ‘Don’t go to the hotel,’ he says. His voice breaks from his throat in a coarse whisper. ‘Stay here, with me.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ you tell him. ‘You’re drunk.’ You feel drunk yourself, you lean on him like you’d fall without the support.

‘I’m not.’ He kisses you again and you meet him there, your tongue daring to taste his this time, your lead the one that’s followed.

You let him walk you back, let him put you between him and the wall of the house. His hands are on your face, and then your neck, and then down your sides like he can’t settle. Like he’s desperate to touch every part of you before you disappear again. The kiss breaks and then he’s covering you in them, leaving them wherever he can think to.

‘Tom,’ you whine, ‘we can’t.’

‘Stay,’ he breathes, hiding the word behind your ear. Trailing it down your neck. ‘Stay for now. Stay.’

You sigh his name. ‘Can’t we just say goodnight?’

‘Do you want that?’ His nose brushes your jaw, his lips settle beneath. You sink against the wall.

‘We shouldn’t—’ the sentence is stolen from you, staccato from the feeling of his teeth against your skin. It’s getting harder to let reason win, the more he touches you, the less you care. The more you want. Groaning, you force your eyes open. ‘Tommy.’

He responds quickly, lifting his head to meet you. His palm sits at the base of your throat, not holding, just touching. ‘I’ll stop,’ he says, ‘do you want me to stop?’

The answer should be yes. Any other day it would be, it would be Goodnight, Tommy. Take me home, Tommy. But you can’t say it. You can’t lie to yourself, or to him. You want him to carry on. You want him to kiss you like he loves you, like he’s desperate. You want him to take you into his big house, to adore you, to fuck you like you never broke his heart. Or maybe like you did. It’s weakness, it’s a failure to yourself and your dignity, but, God, you don’t care. You can’t force yourself to.

‘[Y/n]?’ Tommy’s still waiting for his answer, still holding his breath as he watches you think.

You start to shake your head, but desire interrupts. You kiss him and then he knows. Then his hands go back to your waist, pulling you in, pulling you to the side, pulling you around the wall and backwards toward the steps. It’s clumsy, you stumble with him. Your teeth knock together as you move.

‘A bed,’ you say, panting in the breaks apart. ‘Not downstairs, not like a whore.’

He nods against your lips, his arm reaching behind to push the door open. The warmth folds over you, drowning you. You hadn’t realised how cold it was until you're in the house again.

You pull away from each other to get upstairs; he walks in front of you with his hand trailing behind, fingers interlocked with yours. You don’t know where everyone else is, but you don’t care, you’re so trained on Tommy that the stairs could be on fire and you wouldn’t even know. From the heat that creeps down your legs, they very well could be.

On the landing, you’re reunited again. Kissing, grabbing, chasing each other toward the bedroom like you’re newlyweds. He takes your coat off, leaves it by the door. You push his back from his shoulders and let gravity do the rest.

There’s no time to talk, not properly; no space between you is kept long enough to allow words to fall. You devour each other, peel back the layers of clothing, shed the years of discomfort. You let him kiss you, invite him to taste what he’s missed. When he lays you down, you open yourself up to him, you hold him close like you would’ve when you were twenty-five.  

‘I should’ve stopped you,’ he says against your stomach. His hair is messy, like it never is, the dark twists brush your skin. ‘When you went, I should’ve gone with you.’

‘No,’ you tell him, ‘you shouldn’t.’

Everything that happened, still led to this. If it wasn’t broken you’d have nothing to put back together. You’d kiss and it would be empty.

‘Stop thinking, Tom.’

You cup his cheek and pull him upwards until he’s above you. His skin sticks to yours, his heartbeat thumps against you like its your own. He kisses you and he doesn’t stop. You don’t let him.

[pumpkinparade]

Palpatine, Obi-wan, and tea

So, this is a very stupid idea, but I needed to get it out of my head before I did something extreme like writing fanfic. As a heads up, I've used real-world meanings for various details since there presumably isn't a Star Wars equivalent.

The story begins when Anakin is late for a social engagement. Both Palpatine and Obi-wan are anticipating his appearance. The Sith lord presents a kindly and patient front but fumes at this egregious waste of his time internally while the Jedi pushes his dissatisfaction into the force. He disapproves of the Chancellor, but his former padawan's discourtesy is off-putting. The fact that he has put the Chancellor of the Republic on hold merely aggravated the situation.

The Jedi informs the politician that Skywalker should arrive shortly. He doesn't. The chosen one is with Padmé at present and has forgotten he's meant to be elsewhere. Kenobi ultimately invites Palpatine to offers him some tea aboard his ship while they delay action until Anakin materializes.

Normally, Jedi eschew worldly possessions, but Kenobi owns an old miniature tea set that once belonged to Qui Gon. His tea supplies are generally supplied by colleagues who offer him the leaves when he's not on Coruscant. The ship is equipped with an electric tea kettle and a portable Hot Plate for cooking. He goes about preparing Green tea for both of them when he remembers the Sencha, while excellent in quality, has since gone somewhat stale. It hasn't gone bad, but it has lost some of its fresh flavours.

Jedi are practical(in theory), and tea can be costly.

Lower-income individuals in certain Asian countries have roasted stale green tea to enhance the taste. As this is an accepted practice, he takes the loose leaf tea in his possession, grounds, roasts, and serves it with minimal preamble. Palpatine debates whether or he'll actually drink peasant tea. When Anakin appears, apologizing profusely for the delay before noticing his ex-teacher has brewed tea and claims a cup for himself, supplementing copious amounts of sugar. On Skywalker's recommendation, the Sith decides to take a chance. It's not bad, so he compliments it. The evening wraps up without an event. http://mattchasblog.blogspot.com/2012/05/experiments-with-re-roasting-stale.html?m=1

Later on, the bureaucrat invites the Jedi to attend a senate afternoon tea party. It's an opulent affair. Flowering (Gyokuro) tea with Jasmine flowers bloomed within transparent glass teapots sat next to elegantly designed tiered trays. On hundreds of tables, they rested; the flat surfaces were loaded with the first, second, and third courses, from petite pastries on the top to the tiny tea sandwiches on the bottom, the aggregate sum had been skillfully prepared for the guests. Palpatine had the wherewithal to afford a party grand enough to unsettle a Jedi. To his delight, he had succeeded.

Nearly everyone in attendance had been bequeathed a box of 16 Jasmine Pearls green tea blooms, the dried bundled ball of tea leaves and flowers would open like a plant in "bloom" when placed in hot water.  

Kenobi had "accidentally" received 17,  an unlucky number. In Roman numerals, 17 is XVII. One anagram for XVII is VIXI. In Latin, vixi means "I have lived," the implication being that the person(Obi-wan) is now dead. Jasmine is a plant that symbolizes purity and takes its name from the Persian word "Yasmine". This term translates to "gift from God". Put together; your death is a gift from God(the Sith'ari). Darth Sidious finds himself deeply amusing.

Obi-wan is grateful for the tea, especially since he's recently finished off his supply and always felt sheepish defending the expenditure to the Council. Official regulation dictates that he's not permitted to keep the gift. However, Jedi can distribute the donations to others in the order or, better still, add it to the communal ownership and shared at the temple. There are enough in the box for all parties to experience the high-end tea, so he gladly donates it to the Jedi temple and appreciates it along with everyone else.  When Sidious hears what happened to his gift, he's pleased his secret message was brought to the rest of the Jedi as well.

Obi-Wan is averse to socializing with lawmakers in general and Palpatine in particular. Still, he makes a mental note to invite Chancellor to have tea with him again next time Anakin has them waiting for him as recognition for the expensive gift. Nevertheless, the opportunity doesn't come along until a few months later. Thankfully this time, the tea isn't stale. Unknown to Obi-wan, Anakin is in the middle of winning an illegal pod race. Skywalker wanted to purchase a present for Ahsoka, but as a Jedi, the lack of personal funds to his name meant he had to be creative if he wanted to show the people that meant the most to him how much he loved them, rules against attachments be damned.

This time he has Maghrebi mint tea. Traditionally the drink is sweetened, but he hasn't used sweetener. There is a bowl of rock sugar grown in the shape of tiny purple lightsabers on the counter. It was available if either party wanted to utilize the sweetener. The ingredients, as well as the tea, had come from Mace Windu.

Jedi were generally not meant to accept gifts from clients unless it's culturally necessary for them to do so. The tea was a regifted thank you gift from an ambassador. As the items couldn't be shared equally with everyone, Mace decided Obi-wan, as Anakin's minder had a more significant need for it.

After all the passive-aggressive messages he'd sent at the party, Sidious isn't expecting anything to receive any in return but still looks for any possible messages Obi-Wan might covertly send him through the tea anyway.

His actions don't seem to convey a particular message... unless Kenobi considered serving him a herbal tea that also happens to be an appetite suppressant is a message. Perhaps he intended to inform the wealthy politician that the Jedi felt Palpatine's tea party Palpatine had been too lavish and wanted him to know he'd offended the man utilitarian sensibilities, but that was likely a reach.

The tea itself was one of hospitality, meant to welcome guests by the male head of a family. As Kenobi poured the tea in three rounds as expected of tradition, he wondered if he had missed something and resolves to reflect on it more in the future. Each of the three rounds poured has a different meaning: life, love and death. The sugar represents the sweet aspects of life, and Sidious wonders as the sugar dissolves within his cup if the Jedi is aware of what he's saying about his life by going without it.

The Chancellor certainly knows the symbolism of prolonging the second cup to avoiding the third. Love as a concept was not something he neither wanted nor needed, but he had no fear of it. He drank to the idea without hesitance. If he played his cards right, Anakin's love would pave the way for the ascendancy of the Sith. As for death, he had designs on immortality. He would pass on even the metaphorical notion of his own demise.

When Anakin arrived, he doesn't go for any of the tea. He's tried the tea Mace had given his former master. It's tolerable, yet he has another target. Instead, he seizes the rock candy and laughs when Obi-wan protested that grinding on the purple sugar crystals might ruin his teeth. Nevertheless, he drops the bowl back on the counter after taking two and takes off with Palpatine.

Obi-wan is surprised the next day when the Chancellor has a package delivered that contains four(because four means death) kombucha starter kits(kombucha was considered to have "yang" energy in traditional Chinese medicine) and silver needle tea. As before, Obi-Wan gives the white tea to the temple, but he feels self-conscious. This incident marks the second time the Chancellor has given him something extravagant, and he feels like there are strings attached to the gift even if the politician hasn't said as much.

Politicians don't give gifts without reason—especially politicians who are not friends with the receiver.

Uncomfortable by the thought, he waited until one of his friends gifts him with tea.  It's Bant who visits him first—intending to give her friend Pu'er tea(flavoured with dried honey ginger chamomile) she'd received at a medical conference. Obi-wan explains the situation and asks if he can send the tea to the diplomat as a sign of gratitude. Bant isn't bothered by the question and wishes him success.

Little does he know that although he intended nothing untoward with his regift, Palpatine had, after considering the possible implications, managed to be offended by it. Pu'er tea was often used to treat hangovers(among other things). His former teacher, Darth Plagueis, had once kept several kilos of it in his home. The muun would consume premium Poo Poo Pu-Erh Tea the morning after he'd had a night of excess on Sullustan wine. After he'd given the Jedi kombucha, a very mildly alcoholic beverage, he'd apparently proceeded to criticize the gift by implying he (Sidious) was a drunk who needed it. Indicating he shared the same weakness that had gotten the deceased Sith Lord murdered was exasperating, even if Obi-wan couldn't have identified the reason.

And that's when the situation becomes, for lack of a better word,"serious". Obi-wan thinks they're exchanging gifts, almost they're friends, but he's becoming increasingly frustrated because they're uneasy allies at best. Still, he doesn't want to feel like he owes the Chancellor anything, so the cycle begins anew. His financial circumstances still haven't changed, so he's been forced to regift a few presents from his friends to have something to present to the politician who won't leave him alone.

Kenobi is frustrated by this. He already spoke of the issue with several of his friends. Usually an honest man, he felt compelled to share what might happen to tea they might give him. Always while out of Anakin's earshot. They're sympathetic but unsure what could be done about the man who holds so much power, especially considering the relationship his former padawan has developed with the politician. It's difficult to entirely avoid the man without avoiding Skywalker, who would notice any attempts at evasion and likely take umbrage, even if the Chancellor did not.

Palpatine, for his part, is honestly surprised to learn how very snide Obi-wan appears. He can sense the Jedi's frustration building and is aware it's related to the tea. That said, he hasn't guessed the actual cause. Instead, he believes Kenobi has managed to guess at the intent of his gift and is ostensibly reacting to the Chancellor's actual message.

Amused, he no longer sends veiled death threats. If he does it one time too many time, someone at the temple, likely Yoda, will start asking awkward questions he doesn't want to answer. Yet, he continues to send hidden messages with the intent of antagonizing the Jedi as he proceeds to misread the situation. As the other Force-user's better, Darth Sidious refuses to be out-performed in a game of pettiness by Obi-wan Kenobi.

Anakin assumes they're just two older men who love tea and have found a way to bond over that. He's pleased to finally witness two people he respects burying the hatchet and getting along. Ahsoka doesn't have the heart to tell him that Obi-wan is not happy with whatever madness he's been dropped into. Madame has resigned herself to remaining silent regarding her husband's bond with her former friend. She no longer trusts the Chancellor and knows bringing up her feelings with Skywalker will only end in arguments with the man she loves.

Matters take a turn for the weird when Obi-wan receives cacao maca tea from Quinlan Vos. His fellow Jedi had gotten it from a secret admirer with a crush. After tests came back proving it wasn't poisoned, he'd given the herbal tea to his tea-loving friend.

Like most of the gifts he'd received lately, obi-wan presents it Palpatine. He wouldn't have the ability to keep up with the bizarre back and forth otherwise. He doesn't have the money. He's thankful his friends understand how much he dislikes the idea of being beholden to Palpatine and encourage his efforts to circumvent it.

What he'd failed to account for was the reaction he'd spark by presenting a herbal tea that was viewed, by some, to be an aphrodisiac. Obi-wan himself hasn't realized he'd done anything problematic. Vos hadn't mentioned maca had a reputation because he hadn't known himself. When he'd dropped it off, he'd simply named the vitamins the healers had said it contained.

Palpatine is confused. He's politically powerful and comes from a wealthy family, so it's hardly the first time anyone has been interested in pursuing him. However! Just the other month, they'd been politely abusing one another. There hadn't been any reason for the change.  

Sidious can't decide Obi-wan attempting to insult his virility since maca is reported to help with reproductive health or if the Jedi is propositioning him. He hadn't thought Kenobi was interested in hate-based romantic overtures. That said, making mockeries of a sexual nature is astonishingly inappropriate given their positions. He wasn't offended, the possible slight was far too childish for him to take it sincerely, but he hadn't taken the General as the type of man who would make the insult in the first place. Complicating matters is the fact that the General is Anakin's former master.

He's hesitant to assume the situation would work out in his favour if the Jedi is twitterpated and if he should allow it... whatever it was, to persist. Would developing a relationship with Kenobi hasten Skywalker's fall to the dark side, or would the interaction convince the boy to turn his back on Darth Sidious.

Sexual relationships were irrational, messy little things and far more unpredictable than pretended friendship. He tended to avoid non-transactional sex due to the wildly unpredictable nature of the beast. If an uncompensated connection didn't service his ambition, didn't cultivate his power or influence, it was deemed irrelevant and discarded. An ill-defined situation occupied a troublesome grey area he despised, leaving him in something of a quandary on how to advance his agenda. Sidious knew he'd have to adopt a resolution expeditiously, and that inaction was as much a choice as any other.

[nikibogwater]

Bogwater’s Guide to Writing Platonic Relationships

Have a seat, dears, pour yourself a mug of cocoa, and let’s talk about writing for a bit. Specifically, writing emotionally intense, compelling relationships that are completely devoid of any romantic tension.

“Niki, those don’t exist! The only relationships that are truly intense and compelling are the romantic ones! Everybody knows that!”

*gently bonks you on the head with my magic scepter* NO. This is a common misconception that is perpetuated by media and especially fandom culture. And it stems from this bizarre idea that emotional intimacy must always equate with romantic intimacy. I have no idea where this idea got its start, but if you ask literally anybody who has experienced real, genuine friendship in their life, they will tell you it’s absolute nonsense. Just because you’re not doing the kissy-kiss with someone, that doesn’t mean you’re not emotionally intimate with them.

“But I don’t want any emotional intimacy without the kissy-kiss! It’s boring!” 

Yeah, so, there’s a reason platonic relationships in modern media often feel less interesting than romantic ones, and it’s precisely because of what I said above. Media producers and many fic authors are skittish about showing platonic love with the same level of depth and emotional intensity as romantic, so it often ends up being somewhat watered down and simplified, to the point that it becomes a less interesting relationship. The only thing this does is perpetuate the idea that any and all emotional intimacy immediately implies romantic attraction (it does not) while also devaluing the very real importance of genuine friendship/familial bonds. 

“Okay, but what if I just like romance better?”

That’s your personal preference, and that’s okay! Everybody has their favorite genres and tropes that resonate with them more than others. My personal favorite is Family, Found or otherwise (with a healthy dose of Hurt/Comfort on the side), but I can totally understand if romance speaks to you more. HOWEVER. This does not excuse writers and other content producers from low-key asserting that romantic relationships are objectively “better” than platonic ones. Hard fact of life: Nobody needs to experience romance, and even those who do experience it do so in different ways. But everybody does need to have emotional connections with other people through the bonds of friendship and family. Believe it or not, romantic love is not a universal experience. Platonic though? Everybody knows that one, and everybody needs it to be happy. To devalue it as a whole is to impose a toxic mindset that forces people to experience relationships in a very narrow and restrictive way.

Okay--*steps off my soap box and kicks it to the side*--now that we’ve established that friendship is important and should be given the same value that society gives to romance, let’s talk about a few ways to write intense and compelling platonic relationships!

Emotional Intimacy:

I’ve talked about this a lot already, but just in case some of you are confused, emotional intimacy is just when two people have a very deep familiarity and understanding of each other. They understand how the other’s mind works, and feel comfortable opening up to each other about their own stuff. Obviously, this is very important for any relationship, platonic or romantic, but writers will often limit such familiarity between characters to the romantic relationships. The first step to writing an interesting friendship is to not do that. Show that your platonic soulmates understand each other and are vulnerable with each other. Here are some easy ways to do that:

Character A knows all of Character B’s personal preferences--likes and dislikes, including small things like food, flowers, music, etc. 

A can finish B’s sentences for them. 

A is willing to talk about their feelings when B asks if they’re okay.

A and B trust each other and know the other always has their back

A and B will occasionally reference events in their shared history and even have inside jokes

A will seek B out for comfort when they are upset.

A and B almost never miscommunicate--they know what the other means when they say something, and will immediately notice if the other is acting strange.

A and B can communicate with each other silently, via subtle looks, eye movements, or gestures.

Selflessness:

To quote a grossly over-marketed Disney franchise, “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” This is the simplest and also most accurate definition of love I’ve come across, and it is universal to all kinds of relationships. So in order to make your platonic relationship compelling, you need to show that the characters are willing to make sacrifices for each other--even big ones. Make sure this is a mutual exchange between both characters, because otherwise you risk making the relationship look a bit toxic. Here are a few of my favorite examples of selflessness between friends/family:

Character A willingly puts themselves in harm’s way in order to protect Character B.

A is always ready to drop what they’re doing and come to B’s assistance. 

A and B regularly do small favors for each other without being asked. 

A is always mindful of B’s needs and makes sure they’re taken care of.

A and B always do their best not to hurt each other, either physically or emotionally. 

A is openly very worried whenever B is in danger and stops at nothing to help them.

Affection:

This is the part where most writers balk when writing platonic relationships. “They can’t touch each other!!! That’s sexy and weird!!!” No, it’s not. This idea that any and all signs of affection are exclusive to romantic relationships is toxic, and we need to wipe it from existence. Obviously there are different levels of physical intimacy, and some absolutely are exclusive to romantic relationships. Here’s a list of No-Gos if you want to keep a relationship completely platonic:

Kissing on the lips/mouth/neck.

Gazing deeply and silently into each other’s eyes for long periods of time for no other reason than to simply Gaze.

Doing the Do or otherwise touching each other in an explicitly sexual way (I feel like this one should be pretty obvious. Also wth guys, that stuff is grooooosssssssss 🤢)

Honestly those are the only ones that I can think of that are always exclusively romantic. Everything else requires pre-established context in order to be taken as such. So here’s a list of affectionate gestures that are totally safe for established platonic relationships!

Little forehead/cheek kisses.

Hugs--yes, even prolonged ones. Sometimes friends/family just want to hold each other for a while, and not in a sexy way. 

Holding hands.

Leaning on each other.

Playing with each other’s hair or gently petting it in order to offer comfort.

Sleeping next to each other when circumstances require it (and neither of them makes any fuss over it)

Saying “I love you.” STOP MAKING THIS AN EXCLUSIVELY ROMANTIC THING, PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS PURE IN THIS WORLD!

Touching foreheads (my personal favorite of the lot!)

Maintaining prolonged eye-contact during moments of sincerity and communication, especially if Character A is trying to tell B something important.

Sweet little smiles, or other such soft looks of fondness

And many other gestures that I don’t have time to go over in this list.

Tip the First: When writing platonic affection, be sure to bear in mind your characters’ personalities and physical differences. For example, if Character A is significantly bigger and heavier than Character B, they probably wouldn’t be tackle-hugging B, because that would risk seriously injuring B. Different personalities also have different levels of comfort when it comes to physical affection. If you’re writing fanfic, it helps to revisit the source material and observe how the two characters interact with each other. And remember: just because two characters aren’t physically affectionate with each other, it does NOT mean they don’t have a deep and meaningful friendship. Also bear in mind that many people have different dynamics with different friends simply due to the way their personalities fit together. Not all of my friendships look the same, and it’s not because of insincerity on my part--I just have different interactions with different people.

Tip the Second: If you want the gestures of affection to really pack a punch, use them sparingly. Save your long, warm embraces for when the two characters finally reunite after a long separation. Have Character A take B’s hand only when they can sense that B is frightened and in need of reassurance. A “First Platonic Hug” scene can be just as sweet and feelsy as a “First Kiss” scene if you do it right! Also, don’t be afraid to talk at length about how a gesture of affection makes a character feel. Describe the warm fuzzies that bubble up in their chest when their friend/family member gives them a hug, wax poetic about how grateful they are to have said friend/family member in their life. Taking time to explore and dwell on a certain feeling should never be strictly reserved for the ones associated with romance. 

And when in doubt:

Observe the professionals. Here are some fantastic platonic relationships from various pieces of media that I take tons of inspiration from:

Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings (especially in the books)

Jim and Toby from Dreamworks’ Tales of Arcadia series

Din and Cara from Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Lilo and Nani from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch

So in conclusion:

Listen, I get it. Romance is exciting and cute and sexy and very important in its own right, and society likes to beat us over the head with it these days. But I cannot impress on you enough just how vital platonic relationships are to living a good and fulfilling life. I am who I am today because of the family and friends who have helped me grow. Please don’t disregard it, whether in your writing or in your own life. Cherish friendship. Acknowledge the depth of your platonic feelings for someone. And writers, please don’t be afraid to express those feelings in your work. If we let friendship and family die, I can assure you, any potential for healthy romantic relationships will quickly follow suit. 

[clownao]

AU where Civil War is about Kayano

It never made sense to me why the class forgave Kayano so easily. It was as if she was forced to be evil for five minutes, not that she had voluntarily injected herself with the tentacles. Didn't the class feel betrayed that Kayano had basically blindsiding them? That they were interacting with a fake person the whole time?

It feels like they were invalidating Kayano's Akari identity and her entire revenge arc- it felt like it had no consequences. The class never treated it seriously. They saw her as sweet Kayano who had an angry episode, not as vengeful Akari who had acting for almost an entire year.

And this AU would make sense too- after Kayano's arc in December, the class would be divided on whether to trust her or not, resulting in the Civil War in Janurary. (In addition, it makes me ill to think some of them might actually want to kill their beloved mentor figure, so I think it would be nice to reimagine Civil War.)

Here are the “teams”:

Team Trust- let Kayano stay in 3-E

Members: Nagisa, Sugino, Kanzaki, Hara, Itona, Terasaka, Muramatsu, Takebayashi, Kataoka, Kurahashi, Yada, Okajima, Sugaya (13 members)

Team Distrust- kick Kayano out of 3-E

Members: Karma, Okuda, Nakamura, Mimura, Isogai, Chiba, Hayami, Kimura, Maehara, Okano, Yoshida, Hazama, Fuwa (13 members)

(Note: characters’ views are not my views. Because this post deals with trust issues, some characters’ reasoning may seem offensive and even dismissive. Remember they’re all just teenagers trying to solve a difficult and sensitive problem.)

(Also note: characters’ views are not solely based on canon implications, they’re also based my own headcanons :D)

TEAM NEUTRAL

Kayano- She knows she’s done a terrible thing, and she sincerely apologizes. She admits she stopped wanting to kill Korosensei months ago, but her bloodlust forced her to continue. She also states she was pretending to be nice in the first few months, but claims she started to be genuinely nice afterwards. She understands how some people might refuse to forgive her, and while she is saddened, she totally understands and respects their opinion. She is glad for her friends’ support, but ultimately decides to leave the matter to the class. She doesn’t want to destroy the class’ bond further.

The teachers- They understand both sides of the debate and want to help everyone in the class. If Team Trust wins, so be it. They’re perfectly fine with students requesting to avoid Kayano for projects and assassinations. If Team Distrust wins, they’ll make sure to keep in contact with Kayano even after she leaves 3-E. After all, despite everything, she’s still their student. (And Korosensei’s NEVER going to let Aguri’s little sister go.)

Ritsu- Like in canon, she does not fully understand the human emotions involved, and hence decides not to interfere. She helps to coordinate the war.

TEAM TRUST

Nagisa- He believes even if Kayano was “acting”, she still gave them fun memories, and it “wasn’t entirely an act”. He is inclined to believe people can change, and his friend Kayano deserves a second chance. In addition, Kayano helped to make Nagisa feel comfortable with his long hair (she gave him his pigtails), and Nagisa can never forget that.

Sugino- Like Nagisa, he believes Kayano deserves a second chance. He’s a bit shaken by her “betrayal”, but thinks the entire class (Kayano included) should get along and work towards their goal together. He’s also a bit of an optimist and thinks it’ll all get better eventually.

Kanzaki- She understands the need to have dual identities, and thus emphasizes with Kayano. She believes communication can solve the problem and Kayano should be accepted in 3-E. After all, Kayano, with her traumatic past, needs friends and support too. 

Hara- She staunchly believes kicking Kayano away will do no good. Communication is the only way out, and if Kayano’s gone, how will the class and Kayano effectively communicate? In her opinion, they can’t just ignore the problem by banishing Kayano. Besides, she sort of sympathizes with Kayano, plus Kayano’s her friend, so she’s a little biased. Most importantly, Hara is genuinely sweet and kind- she can never hate or “abandon” anyone.

Itona- He’s a little complicated. He hates being used as a pawn, but he understands the tentacles’ influences. He can’t excuse how she voluntarily injected the tentacles for revenge, but he emphasizes with her. And he thinks it would be cruel of him to leave her alone when a) they both understand the painful and manipulative quality of the tentacles and b) the class accepted him even though he nearly killed them. He keeps his distance around her, but in the end, he stands with Team Trust. He thinks it’s the least he can do for a fellow ex-tentacle user.

Terasaka- Originally, he’s SUPER mad. Like, he just wanted to PUNCH Kayano. But after thinking about it for weeks, he realizes the class forgave a) him b) Itona and c) Irina when all three of them put the class in danger. He thinks it would be hypocritical for him to yeet Kayano out of the class. While he doesn’t want to forgive Kayano immediately, he admits she deserves a second chance like he, Itona, and Irina had been kindly given by 3-E. Terasaka has a strong sense of morals (especially after he was manipulated by Shiro), and would hate to be hypocritical. He joins Team Trust mostly due to his beliefs and morals, not because of Kayano.

Muramatsu- He used to totally support Team Distrust, but after talking to Itona and Terasaka, he started to see things in a new light. It’s not peer pressure, but Muramatsu has to admit kicking Kayano out doesn’t solve ANYTHING- it just adds to miscommunication and people will just continue to suffer. Besides, like Itona and Terasaka, he understands the class has forgiven others before, so it doesn’t seem fair they’re so willing to exclude Kayano from their trademark generosity. 

Takebayashi- He used to be neutral, but like the other members of the Terasaka Gang, he realizes 3-E is actually a forgiving class. After all, they forgave Takebayashi after he betrayed them and joined 3-A, and Takebayashi is immensely grateful for their support. Hence, he thinks Kayano doesn’t deserve being kicked out of 3-E.

Kataoka- She doesn't believe in “abandoning” Kayano- she’s a leader, and leaders don’t abandon anyone. She totally understands how some cannot forgive Kayano, but somehow, kicking Kayano out of 3-E doesn’t sit well with her. Hence, she joins Team Trust.

Kurahashi- She continues to deeply care for Kayano and believes she needs support. Plus, being kicked out of a class Kayano enjoyed/enjoys being in would just hurt her even more, and Kurahashi doesn’t want that.

Yada- Like Kurahashi, she just wants to help Kayano, even if it means getting to know her from square one. Yada is kind- she doesn’t want to abandon Kayano or make her feel even worse.

Okajima- He’s actually a loyal person who deeply enjoys the bond 3-E shares- or used to share. He foolishly wants it to go back to the way it was, but he knows it’s impossible. But if everyone works towards it, they can surely achieve something close to it, right? Maybe it’s a bit idealistic, but Okajima believes in that hope.

Sugaya- He doesn’t believe in kicking Kayano out of 3-E. He’s receptive and understands Team Distrust’s point of view, but he also believes the other team should be a little more open minded. 

TEAM DISTRUST

Karma- He despises manipulation. He hates how Kayano pretended to be innocent and harmless when she was in fact a skilled assassin. Karma cannot trust and forgive Kayano immediately; he wants nothing to do with her. He is also pissed off by Nagisa and thinks he’s selfish. Just because Kayano gave Nagisa happy memories doesn’t mean she should be allowed in the class- there are a lot of people who don’t feel happy about her at all.

Okuda- She trusted and loved Kayano, and was horribly shaken by her identity reveal. Okuda ends up with serious trust issues, to the point thinking about Kayano makes her physically ill. She has panic attacks and struggles with sleeping. She still wishes the best for Kayano, but doesn’t want anything to do with her anymore. She also oesn’t want Kayano’s apologies. In addition, it sickens her to see her other friends (eg. Nagisa, Kanzaki) stick up for Kayano, so she avoids them and sticks to Karma and other Team Distrust members.

Nakamura- Similar to Karma, she cannot forgive Kayano immediately. She might seem casual and chill about it, but she actually spent several nights thinking about it. She’s a little shaken, but in the end, she coolly decides Kayano leaving would be the best option.

Mimura- He personally wants to give Kayano a second chance, but he values class harmony above all. Letting Kayano stay would cause a lot of problems, and if she left, her friends could contact her without involving the entire class (including people who were deeply hurt by Kayano). So, logically, with the class’ best interests in mind, he decides to go for Team Distrust.

Isogai- His reason is similar to Mimura’s. He genuinely likes Kayano and would like her to be redeemed, but he’s the class leader. He wants to make sure everyone is happy and comfortable in 3-E. And if letting Kayano stay in 3-E makes other people uncomfortable and panicked, it’s not a good choice. As painful as it is, he joins Team Distrust for 3-E.

Chiba and Hayami- They value trust immensely, so they feel betrayed and blindsided. However, they continue to be professional, and unlike Okuda, they can work smoothly with Kayano. Personally, they think it’s best if Kayano leaves the class. Surprisingly (or not), Hayami is the more hesitant one. Her family has never been around much and so she emphasizes with Kayano a little bit, but not enough for her to leave Team Distrust.

Kimura- He wants justice. To him, letting Kayano stay implies she doesn’t have to deal with serious consequences. Consequences are needed, or else it isn’t fair- it isn’t fair to Kayano, isn’t fair to the class. Besides, he sees how his other classmates are hurting because of Kayano, so he believes Kayano should leave 3-E for the greater good.

Maehara- At first, he tries to forgive Kayano. He truly does. But the more he thinks about it, the more he finds the idea of manipulation and pretending to be someone else unsettling. Like VERY unsettling (even if he knows it's due to the tentacles). Maybe he's especially sensitive due to his (failed) romantic relationships, but he cannot really trust Kayano anymore. He's hesitant to say it at first, but after discovering a couple of his friends feel the same, he joins Team Distrust.

Okano- Similar to Maehara, she tries to forgive Kayano, but the more she thinks about it, the weirder she feels. And she hates it because she just wants things to be simple, but it's not simple and she doesn't know what to do, so maybe Kayano should just leave and give the class peace and quiet to sort things out. She knows she'll learn to forgive Kayano someday and be friends with her again, but she cannot do it now, so ultimately, she currently stands with Team Distrust.

Yoshida- At first, he and Terasaka and Muramastu were on Team Distrust, but then they changed sides. Suddenly, Yoshida feels like he’s alone in his beliefs (he is, in fact, Not). Yoshida might not speak much, but he is actually rather disturbed and scared by the entire Kayano incident. And because most of his friends appear to be “pro-Kayano”, Yoshida wonders if he’s the bad guy. In reality, he doesn’t want any harm to come upon Kayano, he’s just... scared. And confused. The other Team Distrust members validates his feelings, leading Yoshida to trust Team Distrust (ha) and ends up joining the team.

Hazama- She is disturbed by Kayano’s betrayal, and while she doesn’t hate or fear Kayano, she doesn’t want to deal with Kayano. She’s a little complicated, because while Hazama understands Kayano’s dark ideas of revenge, Kayano has hurt and scarred other people, and Hazama cannot excuse that and pretend it never happened. Besides, she knows Yoshida is feeling like shit, and decides to join Team Distrust due to personal beliefs and to make her friend Yoshida feel better. 

Fuwa- At first she’s fine with the whole thing, and she believes proper communication can help to ease tensions. Plus, Kayano’s her friend! Again, Fuwa’s a little complicated. But after a while, her overactive imagination (which may or may not have been encouraged by reading manga) causes her to wonder if EVERYONE in her life is lying. Obviously, she knows this isn’t the case, but it causes her so much fear, she starts to subconsciously avoid Kayano (the source of her trust issues). While she seeks to mend relations with Kayano, she ultimately decides it’s best if she takes a break from Kayano at the moment. 

Phew! This was a rather long post, and it turned into a character study midway :P If anyone has their own interpretations/thoughts, feel free to reblog and add! :D

(Thanks to Discord friends for discussing with me :D)

(Course of the war now here!)