#it feels more “screaming into the void” here than on twitter which i like

[frenchiefie]

sometimes me and my friend that also got badly fucked over by my ex will recall crazy shit that my ex did just to like, cope with humor about how absolutely unhinged they were/prob still are and how much mental strain it all was BUT OH MY GOD after our talk last week, I remembered how another glaring red flag should have been how ace/arophobic my ex was??? literally would rant and vent to me about how they don't belong in the queer community cause they don't face the same kind of oppression as "actually lgbt" people or whatever and like, whether the struggles they face are different or not, that's not a valid reason for them to be excluded? And you wouldn't be able to understand their struggles unless you experienced them urself anyway? I still feel kinda gross for going along with them when they would say shit like this, but as I've said before, disagreeing with them was always too risky for my own well-being. ANYWAY I KNOW I'M ACE NOW so thanks for helping me figure that out at least lmaooo

[nicki0kaye]

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Junior Guard Captain Garazeb and Underworld crime prince Sasha fall into each other's orbit and hard. This is the 'verse where they have complimentary force powers; Guard (Zeb, empath) and Watcher (Kallus, heightened senses). you can check out the sketch phases of this here. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Not ten minutes after meeting, Sasha tries to use Zeb as his ticket off Coruscant, which creates something of a diplomatic incident.

The Kallus' aren't a very powerful underworld gang, but they don't want to lose Sasha and are more than willing to become a pain in the surface's ass to get him back. Zeb's superiors don't want any of that, but there's a hiccup; Zeb and Sasha are already 'bonded'. Their auras compliment one another, and have more or less interlocked in what little time they've known each other. Untangling them now would be a process. That, and Sasha has told them some concerning things about how his family treats him and his gift.

So the plan becomes; parlay with the Kallus Family down in the Underworld.

It goes better than expected, all things considered. Sasha's family wants him to stay and are willing to accept assistance from the Lasat, because they're under no illusions that their family's way of doing things is working. Sasha's magic has always been more than either his brother or grandmother could handle. If the Lasat are willing to spare a teacher, the Kallus' will put them up and treat them like family.

Which means Zeb is going to stay.

Sasha is furious. He wants to stay with Zeb, yeah, but he wanted to go with him to Lasan. Not ruin the guy's whole career by getting him stuck in the frozen ass-end of Coruscant's basement sectors.

There's one place Sasha goes when he's feeling trapped and overstimulated. At the bottom of level 1996--a level comprised entirely of the piping needed to keep the above levels running--is a giant empty space where the next level should be. Over a hundred stories of nothing between the pipes of '96 and the sewage pit of 1994. This is where Sasha goes to worship his god. The Lasat know him as the Bendu--the one who walks in the middle--but in the north-eastern sectors of the Underworld, they simply call it 'The Void'. It isn't the kind of god to lend its favor, but it is there all the same, and it will listen. Sasha comes to it often to vent his frustrations, to scream into the dark, and this time, Zeb follows.

The whole thing freaks Zeb out. He's a good, devout child of the Ashla, and this big yawning pit his bonded feels compelled to dangle over scares him shitless. He respects the Bendu, respects Sasha as a child of the Between, so he doesn't interfere. Zeb does, however, reel Sasha into the safety of his own arms the second his crazy little human is done.

That's when this conversation happens. Across their bond, in the privacy of their auras, Zeb promises the next time he sees the stars, Sasha will be there beside him. "I know why it calls to you now, the emptiness."

A shiver works its way through Sasha. "Why are you like this?" he asks, pressing into Zeb's space, forehead to forehead. "You just promise like it's nothing."

"To be your Guard is everything. I do not want another bondmate. Terrifying small human."

Sasha's laugh is a little wheezy and broken. He forces a grin as he asks "what if?" aloud, pretending it's a game, a new way to tease the overly serious Guard, and that there's no growing fear he may misstep and give Zeb reason to abandon him.

Zeb says he doesn't know, but then counters; "what if I steal you?"

The question is left unanswered--they aren't alone in the 1996 and need to get going--but it isn't forgotten. Nor Zeb's promise that one day, the two of them will hunt the stars.

[meraki-yao]

You don't have to post it if you don't want to, you can also block me or delete it's ok, I just need to vent because this situation is hitting rock bottom and I can't stand how people don't want to see the problem:

In short: there is a video of the q&a where the female producer gets Casey pronouns wrong when talking about them. It's totally ok to point this out and give respect that Casey deserves BUT who was given the main blame? Taylor obviously, despite him also using the right pronouns during the panel, is guilty of not correcting the woman in front of everyone so he's bad again.

But this time we're not talking about that handful of idiot Nick fans, we're talking about the rwrb fandom that says they love him so much but once again for the umpteenth time they threw him under the bus without thinking twice even though he had no fault. And it will be the third time that the same fandom has exaggerated something against him, subsequently causing serious problems ( like racism and homophobia and doxxing which took place in december where everyone then washed their hands of it pretending nothing happened and they did nothing wrong)

And I'm so tired of reading that we just have to ignore that social because that social is the most active and followed and we know Taylor a few days ago saw stuff and posted and today Casey saw and posted a story. That social causes damage and everything they bring there is seen and affects all of them. So no it's not enough to ignore and put our hands over our eyes and just talk about how beautiful the sky is and I'm so tired and sad and heartbroken because every day even unconsciously they make it more and more evident that there isn't the same affection and respect for both, it's not true, one will always be seen with a critical eye "yes you are beautiful, perfect, so sexy, wow how beautiful these photos BUT you are a bit problematic, BUT you should be better than that, BUT you should learn better, oh disappointed but not surprised" and it is obviously always the poc man who has to be better who has to do better even when he does absolutely nothing wrong.

And this comes from the people who say they follow him and love him. It's no longer possible, that man has been attacked every single day for months, now he must also fall into the transphobic category because he didn't correct another person in front of everyone even though HE had used the right pronouns. But do we realize that this shit fucks up your mental health in the long run? But why doesn't anyone realize how serious the situation is? I cannot take it anymore and I feel like I'm screaming into the void and witnessing the moment when everything will get worse and fall apart and then we will be here sad because it didn't have to go that way for him

…Woah.

Jesus Christ what the fuck.

Okay um, here we go. This is a monster of response to write but here I am.

I’m gonna start by saying I am not a direct witness of any of this. I didn’t know about the misgendering issue during the Q&A, I didn’t really notice it when I watched the Q&A myself yesterday. I’m not on twitter and I don’t follow or look at Taylor or Nick’s tags. All insults I seen regarding the boys are either from assholes trying to bother me or from people who want to talk about the phenomena, both in my inbox.

Regarding misgendering Casey:

Firstly I’m gonna state the obvious and say of course it’s a bad thing to misgender someone. Don’t do that

However I will also say this.

In regards to the extent of reaction: it’s not always done in malice. And in this case, I think it’s a genuine slip up, which happens. I had to consciously remind myself to deliberately use the right pronouns after my friend came out to me as non-binary. I had to correct my friend using the wrong pronouns when talking about our mutual non-binary student. It’s not ideal, but it happens. It’s not mean, it’s just careless. And please note that I’m not saying it’s ok to misgender someone, no it’s absolutely not but I also don’t think this case calls for a big reaction.  If someone maliciously, deliberately, publicly and repeatedly misgenders someone, that’s problematic, that should be called out by the masses to this extent. This, we should acknowledge, make a note, and move on. I think there’s some cases where the reaction to certain issues are massively disproportional, this is one of them.

In regards to Taylor not correcting Sarah and being targeted for it: Firstly, Taylor didn’t misgender them, Sarah did. Taylor used the right pronouns. In fact when they hung out in New York last August, Taylor used the right pronouns on his Instagram story. Secondly, he might not have picked that up. Thirdly, even if he did, it’s awkward to suddenly cut off a monologue, let alone one from friend or not, is someone on a higher level than you, to correct a mistake that doesn’t directly affect comprehensive. Fourthly, bystanders are encouraged to step into situations, but they’re certainly not obligated to. So placing the blame or putting so much blame on Taylor is ridiculous and unfair.

In regards to Casey’s Instagram story: I understand where the connection comes from but honestly… I think there’s also a possibility that that’s just a post that Casey saw and wanted to share without reference to this issue. They don’t have Twitter, and it’s been several days since the screening. Truthfully, everyone involved seems really friendly with each other, and how this very project is advocating for LGBT rights, I don’t really believe that if they were aware of the misgendering, they wouldn’t apologize to Casey.

So replying to the “You don’t have to post it…” anon, I agree that putting any blame on Taylor is kind of ridiculous in this case, just like what happened in December. I think there’s a portion of “fans” that are fucking around with this and genuinely hurting him, but there might also be a portion of people who have a problematic/complicated perception of this type of situation, and it’s not targeted specifically towards Taylor. Either way I disapprove with what they’re doing, but here’s a hypothesis.

Regarding the damage these stuff causes:

I’ve addressed the insults thrown at Taylor multiple times by now. And I kind of agree with “I hate that there are idiots…” anon that really disgusting insults thrown at Nick tend to be overlooked, it’s not like there’s no Nick haters, there is. But because of the inherent racism, attacks on Taylor are much more obvious. Either way it’s cruel and disgusting and the boys don’t deserve to be thrown insults like that, nor do they deserve to have people enact cruelty in their name. Rarely is anyone deserving of that, and in the case of these two boys who have been proven to kind and wonderful people, it’s definitely wrong.

I’m tired of reading and seeing these bullshit on social media as well, which is why I actively avoid it, but “You don’t have to post it” anon, I definitely understand and share your worries of this fucking up the boys mental health.

But the sad truth is that we can’t decide what he can see and what he can’t. We’re just gonna need to trust him, to believe that he knows how to regulate the exposure of response he gets, that he knows what comments matter and what don’t, that he knows how to take care of his mental health. He actively avoids twitter, so I think he has an idea on what he can engage with an what he shouldn’t. Same goes with Nick, all we can do is believe he knows his mental health and how to regulate it. Meanwhile, those of us who aren’t assholes, we’ll show them all the love we have for him. I think public figures all struggle with this to some extent, so when they stepped into this career, I believe they saw this as a possibility, so they’re prepared to some degree. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but again, ultimately, we’re not people directly in their lives. We can’t do anything else practical.

Ultimately I want to say, be kind, compassionate and considerate. We can’t control what others do, and truth be told when it comes to the majority of the haters, I don’t think calling them out will change anything. They have their mind set. So the best we can do, is manage and control what we say and do, and to some degree, what we see and engage with.

[mymaleficaria]

mthedm ---> mymaleficaria

Hi gang! I've had this blog since high school, but somewhere in college it fell into disuse and disrepair. I've been itching to get back on here, as a space on the internet that's not...ya know *gestures at the Twitter-sized elephant in the room*. But I also wanted to go in with a fresh coat of paint and reintroduce myself to y'all, maybe even make some new friends (or enemies. That could be hot.) A lot has changed!

Wait, why do I follow you?

Statistically, you followed me because of Wolf 359! I was big into podcasts back in the day, WTNV, Wolf 359, all those. I also wrote some Wolf 359 fics and was semi-active on the discord. Still fondly remember the show and might reblog fanart once in awhile, but it's not the direction this blog's going to go, so feel free to unfollow if what up I'm to now isn't your jam.

What's this blog about now?

Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy? Frankly, I'm ADHD as fuck, so that'll vary by the day, but I have a few fandoms (do we still say fandoms in the year of our lord 2023???) that I've been into lately.

Dimension 20: I started watching D20 a little less than a year ago, and it entirely took over my life. It's just a series that's so robustly funny, wonderfully told, and never fails to make me smile. I'm especially fond of ACOC and Fantasy High.

Dracula Daily: I'm in this shit for the long haul! I think Lucy and Mina should kiss, but that's neither here nor there.

Game of Thrones/HotD: This show ended in a trash fire, but it literally lives in my head rent free. The political intrigue, the drama. Ugh. I'm a targ girlie through and through, so I've been eating up HotD, though it's nowhere near as good imo. Am also currently reading the 1st ASOIAF book.

YA lit/Whatever I'm reading/watching: I've read almost 50 books this year so far, and am frankly, insane. Bonus points for queer reads! Not many people to talk about books to irl, so might ramble about them on here instead. Also watch a lot of random TV drama and some anime.

Writing: I'm a fanfic writer, and a fiction writer in general, so I'll post stuff about writing--complaints, story snippets, link to my fics, etc! Headcanons and all will be found here. I've also copyedited before, which is like writing but if you get even more nitpicky about it.

Personal/Whatever the hell I feel like/My D&D Games: Life happens and sometimes you want to scream into the void. Ramblings, jokes, whatever. I transed my gender in the past few years and sometimes I'm mad about it! I also just graduated college! Madness! I play a lot of TTRPGs, and I'm usually on brainrot for one of my characters at any given time.

Why's your new username that?

One of my favorite book series is The Scholomance by Naomi Novik, and in the series, Maleficaria are the horrifying monsters that threaten to kill the students every day, and what is tumblr if not a place full of vile, evil beings? Plus, it means you all can call me Mal.

Anything else?

Nope! Other than to feel free to drop me a line and say hello, especially if you want to scream about D20. I'm p alone in this brainrot irl, so I'm pretty much always down to talk about the Bad Kids... especially Adaine and Fabian. I'm also always down to take fic suggestions in my asks! This show genuinely lifts me up when I'm down, so sharing it with people is one of my favorite things.

My fics (shortlist):

In Sweetness, There is Violence: Angsty ACOC one-shot about if Ruby had made a different choice in the finale. Obligatory Caramelinda Caramelinda-ing.

the words i speak are wildfires: A HOTD one-shot I intended to be smut, that ended up instead being more like a romantic sapphic moment of healing between Alicent and Rhaenyra. What can I say? I like childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

Stay Stellar: An unfinished (and, very likely, discontinued) 15-chapter high school AU for Wolf 359 that I wrote with an old friend. Featuring some truly crazy shenanigans, a lot of embarrassing Kepcobi moments, and a surprising amount of theatre.

[beardedjoel]

gif credit (x)

Part Five of the Signs of a Lifetime Series

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC / fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings/Tags: smut!!, language, fluff, hurt/comfort, very quick mention of a needle (no descriptive language surrounding needles)

A/N: i am so proud of this chapter!!! pleaaaase read and enjoy the heck out of it, and show some love on AO3 if you are on there ♡ 

ALSO I got some art commissioned from super talented TobioFish on twitter of Alya and Mando - scroll to the bottom for the reveal, it’s so good! 

Chapter Summary:

Alya’s nightmare prompts her to reach out to Mando via communicator, and they can’t seem to stop calling each other afterwards. Mando invites Alya to meet him for a surprise, where they experience a special celebration and some deeper bonding.

It always went the same way each time - bright lights, voices echoing everywhere, endless confusion and desperation. The familiar voices condemning her, coming from every direction. They needed to cut it out of her, needed to make sure of it, she would become nothing, not even a threat, not even a thought in their mind. The voices said everything she’d ever heard from them all at once, piling on top of each other in this echoing blank void. 

Suddenly, she was in her old bedroom, standing directly in the center. A familiar place, but it had been so long since she’s seen this ornate little bed, the window that overlooked the back of the house, so nobody could see her in here from the outside. The room has no personality, nothing truly hers - all selected carefully by someone other than her. She regained her bearings, making her way to the hallway outside the bedroom, and as she passed the mirror hanging on the wall, there’s nobody there to reflect back at her, nothing to see. The house was too quiet, an eerie, heavy feeling hanging in the air, so she called out as she walked along the long hallway which seemed to stretch on endlessly. A figure appeared with a shadowed face but a familiar voice. 

“There you are, we’ve been looking for you,” the voice said sweetly, but slightly distorted. Her brother, she realized. 

Alya was unsure if she could even speak, her mouth felt stuck shut - she tried to make noise, but nothing came out. She followed the figure, a feeling in her saying they’re to be trusted, they’ve never given her a reason not to trust them. An end to this previously endless hallway that wasn’t there before suddenly appeared, with a glowing doorway. The light from around the doorframe cast long, spindly shadows down the hall, and Alya could feel the fear building inside of her. The figure who seemed to be her brother ushered her into the door hastily, looking around nervously. There were four figures waiting for them, but only two had familiar faces - her father, her mother, and two unknown doctors. The sight of them immediately sent her reeling, deep panic rising up in her chest, her throat, her head, Maker, it’s everywhere. All she knew was to go, go, go, get out of there now. She started to turn, but two more people came from behind her, restraining her. She thrashed, kicked, her body desperate to get away. Alya’s voice came back in a scream that seemed to be able to break glass, even shatter the world around her, but nothing happened. She was being held too tightly and knew there was nothing more she could do, this was going to happen and her stomach felt like it was bottoming out now with the realization. 

“You know we need to do this,” her father said, his eyes now black pools of hatred and malice as he turned to her. She tried to scream, to tell him anything, to plead, but her voice was lost again as she saw the needle coming for her neck. 

Her own screaming and thrashing woke her.

Alya shot straight up in bed, clutching her chest. She gasped for air for a few moments, getting her bearings and feeling the familiar relief of the nightmare ending as it washed over her. The relief was quickly replaced by a deep sadness and horror at living through that experience again, even if just in her sleep. With a sudden wave of nausea, she quickly ran for her refresher, vomiting up everything she had in her, then was left continuing to heave over the toilet with nothing else able to come up. Alya’s gasping breaths turned into sobs before she even realized it, and she sat slumped on the floor with her head in her hands, feeling the drying sweat coating every bit of her body as tears poured out of her. This nightmare used to be a regular occurrence for her, but it had been changed, replaced over time with different dreams - none that made her feel quite like this one. She felt so broken and alone, unable to calm herself down after being blindsided by this nightmare that hadn’t shown up in over a year. Everything in her was urging her to reach for her communicator, to do the one thing she knew could help her right now. She crawled back over to her bed, where a line for her communicator sat on the wall, and she was barely able to reach up and grab it before falling back onto the ground, propping herself up against the wall of her ship, breathing heavily from the effort in her now frail state.

“M-Mando…” Alya quietly choked out, clutching the communicator with shaking hands like it was her only lifeline. There was silence on the other end - he could be anywhere off ship, asleep, not caring to answer her. The lump in her throat grew with her disappointment. “P-please,” she cried desperately, giving it one last effort.

“Alya? What is it? Are you okay?” Mando’s voice came through the speaker urgently a second later. She could tell she’d worried him, and now felt completely ridiculous for even bothering - what could he possibly do for her in a situation like this?

“No- no I’m o-okay. Sorry it was s-stupid,” She knew her shaking voice gave her away and she silently willed it to stop. It was a spontaneous decision borne out of emotion to reach out to him and she immediately regretted it, but she didn’t know what else to do with the vast loneliness the nightmare had left aching in her. 

“You’re not okay,” he replied quickly, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“N-nightmares. I haven’t h-had this one in s-so long…” Alya took a deep, unsteady breath, continuing to try to calm her body and stop the shaking. It gradually started to dissipate knowing someone was on the other end of this communicator - not just anyone, but Mando.

“You’re awake now, you’re with me,” his voice came through, soothing and calm. Alya simply listened to him with her eyes squeezed shut, and took in the familiar voice of one of the only people she cared about, letting it try to settle her frazzled nerves. He spilled soothing platitudes for an amount of time lost on Alya in her currently disoriented state - telling her over and over that she’s alright and that it wasn’t real. 

“Fuck,” Alya said with relief as she realized that the shaking and tears had mostly stopped, and she felt in control of her body once again. 

“Ah, there she is,” Mando said sarcastically but kindly on the other end. Alya let out a weak chuckle in response, feeling drained. “Feeling any better?” he asked. 

“I think so.” She rubbed her eyes and then slid her hands down her face, wiping off the residue of tears that was beginning to dry on her cheeks. 

“I’m not going anywhere, so take your time.” Alya could have started crying all over again at his words - how could she deserve this level of care and patience from anyone? 

“I don’t want to hold you up,” she said half heartedly. She was letting the worry that she had win over what she really wanted, which was for him to stay with her, to keep whispering his sweet words as she fell back asleep.

“I said what I said. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, more firm in his tone this time. Alya nodded, still trying to accept his willingness to do this for her. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare or…?”

“No… it’s hard to… I’d rather talk about anything else. Just talk to me about something… tell me about your craziest bounty.”

“Okay,” he chuckled a little bit. “I was on Jakku chasing this quarry, she was getting to be a real pain. She was fast, knew what she was doing, but I had her cornered at this point running up to a cliff. Then she just.. jumped off of the edge. She’d somehow arranged for a… somebody, to pull up under there on their ship and catch her when she jumped. I was… not happy.”

“No fucking way,” Alya laughed a little. “I think ‘not happy’ is probably an understatement?”

“Yes…” Mando trailed off. “Don’t you want to know what happened next?”

“I already do. You caught up with her,” Alya stated like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

“What makes you so sure?“ Mando sounded surprised at her confidence.

“Come on, there’s no way you’d let them get away from you, even if it took you a while to find her again.”

“Hmph,” Mando breathed out through the communicator, seeming impressed by her ability to read him so easily. “Not even a day later, I found the asshole.”

“Nothing gets by you, Mando.” Alya shook her head at the skill of her fellow bounty hunter.

“What about you?” Mando asked her. 

Alya searched her scrambled, tired brain for a story - she had plenty of adventures she could recount from her years doing this kind of work, but nothing quite like her quarry jumping off of a cliff right in front of her. 

“I’ve got nothing to match that, but getting felt up in an alleyway on the job is up there with my crazy stories.” Alya hoped that her small, tired smirk was being matched by Mando on his end.

“Now that sounds familiar. Must have been someone I knew,” Mando teased.

“Oh, so he has jokes now? I can’t believe it, coming from the mighty Mandalorian warrior.” Alya cracked a much needed smile at his teasing her.

“I’ve always had jokes,” he retorted, sounding mildly offended.

“We both know I’m the funnier one here,” Alya said, to which Mando quickly agreed, replying pragmatically, “That’s true.”

“Thanks for distracting me,” Alya said sincerely into her communicator. She had been holding it tightly the entire time, wishing he were actually here with her - she had an image of him gently stroking her hair as she fell asleep that she couldn’t quite get out of her head. The thought alone put her in ecstasy, leaving her to wonder how she’d even survive the real thing if it was happening.

“I’m glad you reached out to me. I’m sorry you had to go through this…” Mando’s voice was so gentle and caring, making Alya feel an avalanche of her emotions coming back to her. She felt her chest and stomach dropping again with the full weight of her sadness from the nightmare again “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Mando asked after she hadn’t replied to him. 

“Y-yes, I’d really like that. At least until I can fall asleep again.” It pained her to even say it, to admit to needing something from him, or anyone, but she knew he hadn’t really been asking a question. He would have stayed on the communicator regardless of her answer - that was just the kind of person Mando was.

“I’ll just talk for a bit more, is that okay?”

Alya nodded while saying a quiet affirmation to Mando. She tucked herself back into bed, listening to Mando recount other stories - while he wasn’t the biggest talker, Alya appreciated the bits and pieces he did share to keep acting as a balm to her weary mind. She didn’t know at what point she drifted off again, but Mando’s voice being the last thing she heard beforehand seemed like the most natural thing in the galaxy.

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

Two Days Later

Alya sat with her feet propped up on her console, slowly drifting through space. She was killing time on her way from a job, fidgeting with a new panel for her R2 droid in her lap hoping to make some improvements. His beeps were more frequently sputtering out as R2 was seemingly forgetting what he was about to say, so she wanted to try and stop the short circuiting with some much overdue upgrades. This droid had been with Alya through everything, and she wanted to give him the new technology that he deserved. 

R2 was in the room, appearing to be looking at her with curiosity, rotating his head slightly. “Don’t worry buddy, you’ll love this once I’m all done with it,” she said, looking up at the droid, who responded with a few excited sounding beeps. 

The communicator in Alya’s ship suddenly chimed, and a red light flashed on the console, indicating someone was attempting to make contact with her ship. She pulled her feet off the dashboard and cautiously reached forward, accepting the communication line and hoping it didn’t mean trouble. 

“Are you there? I was thinking about you,” a familiar voice rang out through the speaker and filled the room. 

“Who is this again?” Alya replied, breaking out in a smile, unable to help herself from teasing him.

“Funny. I must have gotten the wrong ship’s comm signal,” Mando’s deadpan voice came through to her. 

“No, right signal, just me being an asshole,” Alya replied.

“Ah, my favorite mood of yours,” he said dryly. 

“So, you’re thinking about me over there?” she replied, a hint of flirtation inadvertently infusing itself into her tone. “Where exactly is over there?”

“Outer rim, on a job. And I was. I wanted to see if you’re doing okay after the other day.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” she said. Truthfully, her nightmare had roughed her up quite a bit, as they always did, but she could typically shake it off within a day or so. Mando’s support that night had helped tremendously - she had almost never had anyone there when she was going through the hellish aftermath of those dreams. 

“No more nightmares?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Not yet, no.” Alya was thankful for that fact - at times they came in a series, several nights in a row, and she could barely work, barely function when that happened, left to practically beg with herself to get a peaceful few hours of sleep.

“Good…” Mando trailed off, giving the impression that he had something more to say. “Hey, how close are you to these coordinates?” Mando asked before Alya could wonder any further. He sent over the information a moment later, a red light flashing on the console of Alya’s ship with the message from him.

“Let me see…” Alya said, pulling up the coordinates from Mando and her own star map, tilting her head as she studied the two quickly. “Oh, very, actually. On Saleucami? Wait, why are you asking?”

“Are you able to come here? I want to show you something, I think you’ll like it,” Mando replied, sounding a bit anxious. Alya couldn’t help the smile that continued to grow as he spoke 

“Oh, you think I’ll like it, huh?” She cursed the absolutely huge grin that was making its way onto her face now. “I could probably be there in an hour if I make the jump soon.”

“Just come to those coordinates. I’ll be there waiting,” Mando commanded, before cutting off his communication to her ship.

Alya obeyed, sending her ship into hyperspace as soon as she could get to one of the predetermined routes available. It felt like one of the longer hours of her life, waiting anxiously for this cryptic meetup with Mando as her ship flew through space, the stars whizzing by her in the cockpit. She had the sudden urge to head into her refresher and check her reflection, biting her lip nervously as she looked at herself and tried smoothing her hair. She had on a simple cropped black tank top and pants with her favorite vest over it, and while she knew that it was absurd to change her outfit just to see him, the fact that she even considered doing it made her want to blush out of pure embarrassment. She wasn’t supposed to care this much about how Mando saw her looking.

Alya saw a commotion in the town as she came out of hyperspace and flew her ship down towards the surface of Saleucami  - a festive looking gathering of people from what she could tell from afar. She knit her brows and thought hard, then turned to R2 with a realization. “Hey buddy, what’s the date?” R2 beeped, then flashed a hologram with the numbers in front of him. Alya thanked her droid and let out a small chuckle, shaking her head.

“It’s Fete Week. Wow, I didn’t even realize,” Alya said out loud as she looked down at the celebration, mostly to herself, but loud enough that R2 also heard her and gave an excited noise in response. That must have been why Mando asked her to come - had he really thought to spend the New Year with her? Or was this about something else entirely, and she was making something out of nothing? Butterflies threatened to flip in her stomach at the myriad of thoughts running through her mind, but she quickly pushed the feeling down, parking her ship in the designated landing area outside of town.

Alya put on her boots and blaster holster before walking out, holding onto a navigation device to lead her to Mando’s coordinates. It was late in the day, closer to sunset than not with the setting sun coloring the dry terrain and surrounding trees and brush in even warmer tones. She could hear the ruckus from the town - distant music and chatter filled the air, and she smiled sadly at all the life happening so close by, just out of reach. New Year’s Fete Week was always well celebrated throughout the galaxy, but she seemed to miss it most years without realizing it, just by happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The navigator took her slightly further out from the town, and she finally saw the Razor Crest in the distance, an obvious sign she was in the right place. As it came clearer into her view, she saw the outline of Mando sitting on top of his ship. She had to practically force herself not to smile so widely when she could make out his features more and more as she approached.

“Up here,” Mando called out, his voice coming out clear and commanding, even through the modulator. Maker, it was like music to her ears, and Alya felt the hairs on her arm threaten to stand up at hearing it despite how warm it was outside. He was standing up on top of the Crest now, looking down on her. She shielded her eyes from the glowing evening sun as she looked up towards him.

“You brought me out here to the middle of nowhere? To… stand on top of your ship?” Alya asked, her head cocked to the side with a raised eyebrow.

“Actually, yes. I wouldn’t complain too soon, if I were you,” he replied with his typical sardonic sass.

“Fine, fine, no more complaints. Let me up there.” 

“There’s a hatch, through the hull and up the ladder on the right side,” Mando instructed, and Alya walked up the ramp and into his ship. She had only been inside his ship once before, and fought the urge to look around since Mando wasn’t nearby. She wanted to inspect everything, get more insight into who he was, how he lived, everything and anything about him. She had a deep desire to know him inside and out, she realized, with a small pump of frightened adrenaline coursing through her now.

Alya looked up the ladder Mando had described to her, and saw skylight through it, so she climbed until she emerged, coming face to face with Mando.

“Hi there,” he said, his armored form particularly relaxed in front of her as he stood with a tilted head and knee popped out.

“Hi,” she replied simply, giving him a cheeky raise of the eyebrows, asking him to explain what the hell was going on. 

“I was here for work, and found out it was Fete Week,” Mando said, as if that explained everything she had been wondering.

“I saw that… there’s a big festival in town,” she replied, continuing to look at him expectantly, awaiting further answers.

“I overheard that there was going to be fireworks when it’s dark, and thought… you might like that kind of thing.” Mando shifted slightly, rubbing one of his arms, letting the confident facade fall for a moment. Alya’s lips curled into a small smile as she watched him during his nervous explanation.

“I actually… I don’t know if I do. Never seen them. But I’ve heard good things,” Alya said, trying to hide the fact that she had actually lamented this fact since childhood. The amount of times she’d heard fireworks for different events, but was stuck inside the house or her bedroom, unable to see anything but maybe a few flashes of colorful light in the distance, even when she pressed her face as close to the glass of her windows as she could. 

Mando’s head moved slightly back in surprise. “Well now you have to stay and watch,” he replied. 

“As if me leaving was in question,” she scoffed playfully. “I already came all the way here.”

“Good,” Mando replied. “We can watch from here. I think it’ll be a good view,” he said, turning towards the town in the distance. Alya followed his eyeline and decided he was probably right, and they’d have a great perspective of the show here away from everybody.

“I got you this,” Mando said, reaching down and picking up a small box. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took the box and opened it. It was some kind of treat - a sweet fried dough with powdered sugar on top that smelled heavenly as its scent reached her nose. He had tried to sound nonchalant, but Alya could see Mando weighing her reaction out of the corner of her eye.

“This looks incredible, thank you,” she said, and her smile beamed up at him as she picked up the treat and took the first bite. Maker, it was fucking good, she thought to herself. She never ate things like this, always trying to pinch credits, save up for something for her ship and buy fuel to continue working. “Shit, this is so good,” she said almost involuntarily as the delicious taste filled her mouth and she quickly went in for a second bite.

“I’m glad,” Mando said, his voice filled with amusement at watching her.

“Oh, did you want any? Wait, how many credits do I owe you?” Alya panicked, realizing she’d practically forgotten all semblance of manners as soon as she’d begun devouring the treat.

Mando held up a hand quickly. “None of that. You had a tough time the other night, I thought you should have something,” he said. Alya’s smile softened even further at his kind hearted gesture, the way he’d thought of all of this for her, for inviting her here to do this together. She imagined him scoping out all of the festive foods likely being displayed in the town today and deciding specifically on this one for her - it made her chest tighten and her heart feel like it was soaring. She almost couldn’t breathe, it squeezed so tightly - she had never felt this way before, and didn’t know that she ever could again, not with anyone else.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” she said sincerely and a little shyly, as she began to sit down on the top of the Razor Crest. Mando sat down next to her, close enough to make her heart skip a beat. As she continued eating, she realized the sugar had gotten all over her black shirt. “Are you kidding me…” she mumbled to herself, trying to hastily brush all of it off.

“I wasn’t going to say anything…” Mando said, watching her with an air of enjoyment.

“Why not!” she scolded him, “Jerk.” Alya shoved his arm, and in turn got some of the powdered sugar on his sleeve. He looked down at it, clearly displeased. “Serves you right,” Alya said, tilting her head up smugly and taking another bite of the dessert, only resulting in more powdered sugar drifting onto her clothes. She looked down at herself, and pressed her lips together with irritation before finally bursting out laughing. Mando chuckled next to her, shaking his head.

“Absolutely ridiculous…” Mando said.

“Trying to make me embarrass myself in front of a hardass like you by picking the messiest food possible.” Alya shook her head and looked at Mando with narrowed eyes.

“So you think I’m a hardass?” Mando quipped back. 

Alya rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s kind of the whole Mandalorian thing, isn’t it?”

Mando laughed slightly, tilting his head to the side. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Practically trained from birth, right? That’s a pretty hardass lifestyle, I think.”

“Some are. Others are foundlings, trained later. It’s a vital part of our survival and our religion to bring in and train the next generation of Mandalorians.”

“And… you?” Alya asked tentatively, sensing a more serious shift in the conversation. Mando never seemed averse to asking her about her past, but she’d been nervous to pry into his, as he seemed to like the air of mystery that surrounded him.

Mando paused for a moment longer than usual before responding. “I was a foundling. They took me in when I was in need, after my… family… and I’ve been with them ever since.”

Alya inhaled sharply in a small gasp at his reveal, and grabbed onto his arm supportively without thinking, looking at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. “Oh, Mando, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize they aren’t Mandalorians too, that they aren’t here.”

“Thank you.” He bowed his head slightly in gratitude before looking back at her. “It was a very long time ago. I’m grateful that my covert devoted themselves to helping me. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Alya replied, trying to smile for him, although her head was still spinning with this new information. She leaned her head on his shoulder to comfort him, despite the hard paulron of armor there. Alya could sense he didn’t want to get into the topic any further, so she wanted to lighten the mood. “Hard to imagine you being a kid, for some reason. Little Mandalorian armor sounds cute,” she said softly.

“It is…” he replied, more lighthearted now. “I wish you could see it sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

As if with perfect timing, a distant whizzing sound and sudden burst of light and color in the now dark sky signaled the end of their conversation. Alya gasped in delight, quickly picking her head up off of Mando’s shoulder and sitting forward in anticipation for the fireworks. 

“Is that it? It’s starting?” she asked enthusiastically, forgetting herself completely - Mando seemed to be the only one she was naturally willing to discard her hard, scornful mask for.

“Looks like it,” Mando drawled, leaning forward slightly along with her. “Enjoy the show, freckles,” he said, peering over at her. She flashed him a quick smile, but turned her attention back into the distant sky as fast as she could, not wanting to miss anything.

Alya’s excitement built with each new firework that dazzled in front of them - they were so colorful, much more so than she’d imagined all these years. The different patterns and designs of each one were unexpected, and she felt her mouth hanging slightly ajar in amazement - she felt completely captivated, and her chest heaved slightly with the emotion of the moment. In her periphery, Alya could see Mando looking in her direction periodically throughout the show, taking in her reactions. She had to fight like hell to resist the urge to look back at him, afraid it would spark something irreversible between them.

With her focus upwards on the sky, she didn’t notice her hand, planted on the metal of the Razor Crest, sliding just enough with all her excitement that her and Mando’s fingertips grazed suddenly. She quickly pulled her hand away a few inches and whipped her head in his direction as if to apologize, but froze when she beheld his helmeted head already staring back at her. She tried to speak, her mouth opening but refusing to make a sound. Alya was completely mesmerized at the fireworks reflecting off of the beskar of his helmet - colorful bursts slightly distorted by the curves in the alloy and his visor - it was possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, threatening moisture to her eyes that she quickly blinked away. Her hand seemed to move without reason, without thought, back towards his, and she let their fingers touch again, not pulling away this time. A soft smile danced across her face as the noise of the fireworks practically faded out of her world, only left with this feeling of Mando taking over all of her senses as her breath turned shaky. As suddenly as the moment had come, it was gone, as Mando’s helmet and the entire sky turned dark - the fireworks show was over. 

Alya felt herself snap back into reality, a nervous chuckle escaping her as her hand pulled back towards her lap. “That was so beautiful,” she announced to Mando, trying to break free from the intense moment that they’d just experienced. Had he felt it too? Alya wondered.

“Glad you liked it,” he replied, his tone leaving the answer to that question unclear to her.

“Glad I came,” she said, laying back onto the ship with a contented sigh. The thrill of finally seeing a fireworks show wore her out more than she’d care to admit, but she wasn’t ready to call it a day just yet. Now that the sky was dark, Alya looked straight up to see how clear the stars were shining tonight, and they didn’t disappoint her. Mando laid down next to her with a small grunt, and they silently observed the sky for a while, pointing things out to each other every so often.

“I wanted to know - how’d the rest of the job go with your… friend? Nobody followed you, you’ve been safe?” Mando said into their silence.

Alya chuckled lightly at the way Mando had referred to Nej so begrudgingly as her friend, but noticed a flutter pass through her at his protective questioning. “It went off without a hitch. I’m not sure how it went after Nej and I parted ways, but hopefully his group got what they needed out of Venka.”

“Doubt that he would crack very easily… Imperial training,” Mando replied. 

“Nej did say I should visit to meet his wife and kids sometime, so maybe I could ask him then for the details,” Alya said, now reaching up to prop her hands behind her head.

“Wife and kids?” Mando repeated, surprise filling his voice. 

“Mhm, told you there was nothing to be jealous of,” Alya teased.

“I was never worried about that,” Mando growled, a little too defensively for Alya to believe him. She just gave him a smug look, watching how flustered he’d gotten. “What exactly was the history there?” he asked. “It seemed sort of… tense between you two.”

Alya sighed. The way Mando easily asked her questions like that, just curiously wanting to know more about her made her feel so taken aback - he certainly had so much more to him than the initial impression he gave to others. He was caring, kind, and supportive underneath that quite literally hard exterior of his, and it made Alya’s heart sing, the way he’d been showing all of that to her. 

“It’s a long story.” She thought for a moment, trying to summarize the long, painful history that was meeting and losing Myra for Mando to hear.

“We’ve got time,” Mando stated like there was nowhere he’d rather be than right here, talking to her. Alya made a noise of protest, but Mando persisted. “Talk to me, c’mon. Isn’t that what friends do?”

“I hate that you’re always right.” Alya sulked for a moment before deciding Mando had a point. She wanted him to know more, but a creeping fear always set in, something so deep in her that didn’t even have reasoning anymore, it just simply was. Something about being under a night sky with Mando seemed to make her more vulnerable, more willing to share with him, though.

“Well,” Alya blew out a breath, “I guess the tension started after Myra died. It was… because of me. She was trying to save my life out on a job, and she… well…” Alya now moved her arms from under her head and wrung her hands over her stomach, feeling a pit in her core growing at the vivid memories coming back to her. They had somehow never stopped being this vivid after all these years.

“I know I wasn’t there, but Alya, I know that it wasn’t your fault,” Mando said sincerely, looking intently at her now, and she almost wanted to believe his words.

“We weren’t even supposed to be there, but I’d wanted us to do the job even though it was dangerous. Beyond our level. I really needed the credits at the time. Didn’t even get the quarry in the end… she died for nothing.” Alya spoke the words with a confident anger towards herself - this was her truth she’d lived with, and nothing had made her question it until now. 

“Sometimes… these things just happen. Saying she died for nothing - sometimes a tragedy is just a tragedy, right?” Mando said, now sitting up on his elbows to face her better. Despite his clear effort for eye contact, she refused to look back at him, feeling too open and vulnerable right now to add that level of intimacy to this moment.

Alya let out a small, shaky breath and blinked away the tears that had begun to prick behind her eyes. “I know you’re right, it just doesn’t always feel like that. Nej was completely broken, so he found someone to blame, and that someone was me. If you hear and think something is true long enough then you really start to believe it. So that’s what I’ve believed for a long time, deep down.”

“But you know, right? You know it wasn’t your fault? Something terrible happened, but it doesn’t mean you are the reason.”

“I… don’t -“ Alya stuttered. Nobody had ever spoken to her this way before, pushed her like this, and she was at a complete loss.

“Alya,” Mando cut in. “Tell me you know.” 

“I know…” Alya closed her eyes tightly, the pain of it all washing over her.

“You know what?” Mando persisted with that commanding tone that made you want to do anything he said, anything he wanted.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“That’s right,” Mando said, pride for her filling his voice. “I hope you believe that.”

“I think maybe I could. Someday.”

“I’ve spent a long time blaming myself for things that aren’t my fault. It’s not easy to realize when you need to stop putting that blame on yourself, but once you do…”

“Does it make it hurt any less?” Alya asked.

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s easier to hold this way.”

“I wish you couldn’t relate to this feeling,” Alya replied sympathetically. “It must have been hard to go through what you did as a kid.”

“It was. There are just things we have to live with, though.”

Alya finally returned his gaze and gave Mando a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she nodded in agreement. She realized he didn’t even know the half of the truth of that statement for her, and wondered if she could ever let him. As they laid together like this, feeling like the only two people in the galaxy, seeing the helmeted face she’d grown to trust and care about, she thought for the first time that maybe it was possible.

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

Six Days Later

“What do you mean you’ve never gone swimming?!” Alya said incredulously into her communicator, sitting up on her bed. Mando had reached out to her again, and this seemed to be quickly becoming a routine for them after their meet up on Saleucami. Whenever one of them was bored traveling between planets in the last few days, they reached out to the other, talking about anything that came to mind, really. Their latest quarries, their favorite places they’d been to, how they generally found other people to be a pain in the ass. Sometimes they’d even just sit quietly for a while, feeling each other’s presence on the other side of the communicator. 

“Not recreationally, at least… Mando replied, sounding amused. “It’s hard to swim when you can’t take your armor off in front of other people. I’ve been in the water with my armor on, but mostly by accident or because my life was in danger,” Mando mused.

“That sounds like a nightmare, Mando…” she blinked in disbelief at this absurd man on the other end of the communicator. “All the… wet… inside your armor? What do you even do afterwards?”

“Stay… wet… at least until I can be alone.” Mando chuckled.

Alya shuddered at the thought. “What about if you’ve been in the middle of nowhere on some planet, and nobody else is around, not even then?”

Mando was silent for a few extra seconds before responding. “I just… never considered it before, I guess.” Alya was realizing that Mando didn’t typically make much time for fun in his everyday life, and from everything she knew about him, why would he? Being raised as a warrior, bounty hunting for a living - it didn’t seem like it had ever been much of an option for him. She could certainly relate to that, she thought to herself.

“Alright, that’s it,” she said decisively, “I’m taking you swimming sometime. Somewhere private, with nobody but us around, and I’ll turn my back and let you do your thing.”

“You’re trying to tell me you could resist turning around to sneak a look?”

She gasped dramatically and held a hand to her chest in fake pain. “You wound me, Mando. Of course I could! I don’t want to disrespect you, unless you ask me to.” A sly smile spread across her face as she spoke.

He laughed audibly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Alya retorted, laying back down onto her bed, getting comfortable with the communicator perched next to her.

“Mmm… good one,” Mando said, and Alya got an image of him shaking his head at her on the other end in her mind. “Fine then, you can show me the wonders of swimming sometime.”

“It’s a deal. You’ll love it.” Alya wished she didn’t have such a stupid grin on her face right now, but at least Mando couldn’t see it.

“Wait, what are you doing? You sound a bit muffled,” Mando said suddenly.

“Er… I’m laying down,” Alya admitted sheepishly, nervously twirling a lock of her hair in her hand. She had been in her bed when the communicator had beeped suddenly, and she couldn’t resist picking up Mando’s call.

“Oh, I caught you when you were trying to sleep, sorry,” he said softly, sounding concerned.

“No no, it’s okay. I couldn’t really sleep anyways. Just laying here thinking in the dark, willing myself to be tired wasn’t working very well.”

“Thinking about what, hm?” Mando asked.

Alya didn’t answer.

“Alya?”

‘I’m here...” She paused for a moment, debating her next words, which felt like she had been on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off, and these words would send her careening into the unknown. “Thinking about how I’m wishing you were… here” she added tentatively but flirtatiously, biting her lip.

“I could be, if you send me your coordinates,” he said, his tone changing dramatically at her confession.

“Don’t be unreasonable,” she scoffed at him.

“You won’t tell me because you know I’ll actually do it.”

“No, you would not,” Alya retorted, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Don’t be too sure about that,” he said, then a beat later added more cautiously, “Why don’t you… just pretend I’m there in the meantime…”

Alya’s breath caught in her throat for a moment as she realized what he was implying with those words. “If you were here, what would you do?” A sly smile crept onto her face as she spoke. 

“Where to begin…” Mando drawled, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “Your back seems awfully tired and sore, I’d want to rub that for you first, get you nice and relaxed.”

“Mmmm, sounds nice,” Alya mumbled half into her pillow as she shifted under her blanket, relaxing with his words in her ear. 

“Your shoulders, your neck, run my hands through your hair. I’d wanna to make you feel so good.” Mando’s voice was sounding increasingly needy with each word, and she could tell that he was getting turned on. If she was being honest with herself, she was beginning to feel the same way.. 

“Now that I’m all relaxed, what next, hm?” Alya said, tracing her hands distractedly over her blanket, eagerly waiting for his response.  

“Start kissing down your neck and your shoulders, maybe further if you’re lucky,” he said with ease, and Alya could practically feel every word as he said it, imagining him right there with her.

“Psh,” she scoffed. “I’d be lucky for sure.” 

“Yes, you would,” he replied in a serious tone, and Alya’s body was already responding to his words with a dull ache starting in her core and traveling further down. She wanted him, and that was the only thought that was running through her mind right now.

“Not just stopping at kisses, are we?” Alya said, arching a brow, knowing she was slowly entering even more dangerous territory.

Mando let out a sultry laugh. “Not a chance. Now, I need you to do what I tell you next…” he said, his voice suddenly even more suggestive, “And wish it was me doing it to you.”

Alya felt her heartbeat pick up slightly, and a small, knowing smile crossed her face. “I can manage that,” she replied, feeling a flutter of nerves landing in her stomach as she listened closely for his next words. 

“Good girl. Now take your hand and slide it nice and slow, down into your pants -“

“What if I’m not wearing any?” Alya interrupted. She was lying, but wanted to sweeten the deal for Mando and get him a little more riled up. 

“Mmm, even better, freckles,” he purred, and Alya smiled at the fact that her fib seemed to be working wonders on him. “Get your hand down there, feel that perfect fucking pussy of yours for me.”

Alya gasped slightly at the sudden coarseness of his words but did as she was told, putting her hand down her pants, focusing her mind on when Mando once did this to her all those months ago. Fuck, she still thought and dreamed of it so often, almost too often. Alya hesitated, waiting with baited breath for Mando’s next command. 

“Are you wet for me yet, beautiful girl?” he asked, his voice low, enticing, rumbling through the communicator close to Alya’s ear. 

“Maker, yes,” she breathed out in response, unable to do anything else but Mando’s next bidding.

“Mm, perfect. Touch yourself, like I did for you before. Remember that?” Alya obeyed, beginning to rub a finger on her clit as he told her to.

“C-could never forget,” Alya mumbled through the beginning of the pleasure building inside of her, starting to feel her breath come out more heavily with every touch.

“Keep going, make yourself feel good for me. Nice and slow. Are you thinking of me while you do it?” he purred, and Alya felt her desire growing at how much he was enjoying this as well.

“Mhmm,” she purred, “You feel so good. Wish this was you,” Alya said amongst her panting breaths. Mando had said to go slow, but she could feel her need increasing every second as her body writhed more under her own touch. “P-please I need more,” she begged him. 

“I would be putting my fingers as deep as they go, feeling every bit of that cunt of yours that I can’t stop thinking about. Do that for me.” With Mando’s new command, she used one hand to continue circling her clit while the other hand slid a finger inside of her. She moaned softly as she added another finger, already ready for it.

“I want to hear every breath, every moan for me,” Mando said, hearing her starting to cry out more and more at the feeling. She could hear the desperation in his voice to be there with her, and that his own breathing had become more ragged. The thought hit her at once: was he touching himself too?

“A-are you touching yourself…? Thinking o-of me?” Alya asked.

“Mmm, I am. Thinking of you always. Nothing could come close to what you did to me, though,” he replied through the comm in between a few pleasured groans.

“Fuck, no it can’t,” she said, thinking on her own experience with Mando pleasuring her.

“You make me crazy, you… feel so amazing,” he said distractedly, clearly getting too caught up in touching himself to keep directing Alya’s movements. 

Alya felt her pleasure building dangerously close to climax, picturing Mando in that alleyway on Canto Bright, the way he’d felt underneath her in that inn on Nevarro, knowing he was the only one she could ever want like this. So desperately, so badly, it almost felt like a natural part of her now.

“F-fuck,” she gritted out, her fingers moving more rapidly, plunging them deep inside herself while thinking of Mando being right here with her, doing this to her. It was almost enough, but she needed him, she was so desperate for him to be there with her that she considering taking him up on the offer of sending her coordinates to him and waiting right here for him to fuck her to completion. “I need you,” she cried out in the heat of the moment, not caring one bit what she was admitting to him. 

“Mmm, you have me, Alya. You have me, come on, beautiful. Think of me, I’m right there with you,” he rambled, breathless, and she could hear the furious slapping of his own flesh on the other end. She focused her mind on his hands, the quick glimpse she’d gotten of them in the alleyway, the way they’d trailed down her bare flesh and did this same thing to her. The thought of those hands touching himself, thinking of her hands and mouth all over him in that dark room in the inn. She let out low whimpers, close enough to the communicator for Mando to hear. 

“Let me hear you cum for me,” Mando demanded, his voice becoming more strained from his own pleasure. His words finally sent Alya into her climax, and she tilted her head towards the communicator, breathy moans coming out as she called his name. She heard several grunting moans from his end as she shuddered and lifted her hips through her climax, and she knew hearing her had put him over the edge into his own orgasm. 

Alya laid back into her cot, staring up at the ceiling as she came down from practically seeing stars. She was almost in shock - somehow she and Mando always found themselves back here, crossing the fine, razor thin line they had drawn for themselves to try and be friends. 

“Maker, Alya, you - I don’t even have words,” Mando finally spoke, breathless still. 

“Me either,” she said honestly. “I…” she trailed off, then sighed, still unsure of how to address what she really wanted to say. How many more times could they do something like this, and claim they could go back to how it was before? Each time they got this intimate it was harder for Alya to forget him, to move on from this sheer torture that was knowing and wanting him, and not letting herself have him fully. She heard Mando’s breaths through the communicator beginning to calm down along with her own, and they were both left with the reality of what they’d just done and having to process how they felt about it. The two of them were silent for an uncomfortable period of time before Mando spoke again. 

“I… I don’t think we should be calling each other like this anymore, Alya” he said, trying his best to keep any emotion out of the words. Alya could read the frustration, pain, and hurt behind it, even through the distortion of the communicator. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest at hearing, not fully understanding his sudden change in perspective. Hadn’t they just been in the throes of passion only minutes ago? She moved to respond through the commlink after the sting of the words faded enough, but Mando had already disconnected them. Alya clutched the device with now trembling hands, her mouth hanging open slightly as if ready to speak words she wasn’t sure she’d ever get the chance to say to him now. 

LOOK AT THEMMMMMMMMM!!!!! 

[biscuityskies]

I think it did strike me at this very moment (1:47am, 11 January 2023) just how unhinged tumblr is to me, specifically. And blogs, in general. Allow me to explain.

I come from a somewhat long and arguably very not rich history on Twitter. Multi-faceted, perhaps, but honestly really just a whole bunch of people following me for reasons that I really could not say. Having joined Twitter at a time when I was still figuring out who I was (see also: high school) and then gaining a sudden influx of followers due to reasons I believe were fandom related, those numbers went directly to my head, and I of course began to base my self worth off of them. Is this a good thing? Absolutely not! Have I done the same thing with my AO3 account? For frickin sure! And yet, Twitter is simply me yelling into the utter void, and the void doing jack shit about it.

I made a blog on tumblr at the encouragement of my sister several years ago, because it was where she spent most of her time, and she has a specific tag for me, and I thought it was HILARIOUS that that was something that one could just… do, tag their sibling in posts for said sibling to then peruse later. So, of course I made a blog.

I then ghosted this bitch. It took the near-death experience of Twitter to bring me back to tumblr, where I promptly rediscovered my love for Star Wars, and made a post about it. A POST THAT IS STILL GETTING NOTES. It has over 100 at this point, and it’s SUCH a change of pace, because while on Twitter everything is fast-paced and nothing I say usually gets anything more than two likes, I make one post about this ship I suddenly discovered that I ran headlong into and it’s still getting notes I think well over a month after I made it.

Now, that brings me to my usage of “unhinged”. Literally, “off one’s hinges”. My hinges had been defined to me for the past five years as screaming soundlessly into the void of space and not expecting a reply. I scream about Codywan on Twitter and nothing happens, literally so many tweets go by without a single like (yet now I know exactly how many people see it and don’t interact, have i ever mentioned how fucking stupid an update—). I say one thing about Codywan on tumblr, and it’s still getting notes. And as long as there are Codywan shippers, likely will CONTINUE to get notes, which is also kinda wacky.

Idk. At least here I can yell into the void at 2am and if the void doesn’t answer back I don’t feel bad because I genuinely have no clue how many followers I have, how does this site even work pls I’m still new here

(Also it’s very nice being able to ramble in one post in well over 240 characters. And also formatting?????? What a gift)

[rationalisms]

Omg you discord post is exactly what I’ve been thinking as well. I’ve joined it for fandoms and school groups and irl community stuff and each and every time I get so anxious that I end up going ghost. Speaking specifically on fandom though, I recently deleted my account and the app (love being #free) because the one to one feel of involvement is A Lot. I love screaming into the void and shooting off a stupid post way too much so having to think through everything I say is anxiety like I don’t actually want to feel like I’m in a chat room? Idk but it’s the same with twitter, I use it to crack some jokes but the extra sense of familiarity that seems to come with frequent interactions overwhelms me and everyone else just seems to be okay with it. I realize that’s a box of a social anxiety thing in general though. Anyway not that you asked bit this is why I don’t think I’ll ever leave tumblr it caters so perfectly to the hermit in me lol

oh bud i completely feel you, it's an absolute nightmare for people with any amount of social anxiety. pretty much the only reason i use discord is for ttrpg organizational purposes, and for the one movie watching/music league group chat with my group of friends; any servers i've joined that are bigger than that i go through the exact same process every time: agonize over what to say for several days because everyone else already seems incredibly familiar with each other in a way that's so deeply terrifying and intimidating and then eventually just leaving again. which sux! i wanna Take Part In Stuff and meet people who share my interests but i'm a big ball of anxiety and that setting is my nightmare... so i definitely get you. and good on you for deciding that you're no longer getting anything out of it and pulling the plug! it can be hard especially with how much it's assumed that you have certain social media and FOMO and alla dat, so i'm glad you were able to draw a line and i hope it helps make you feel more comfortable.

i don't mind twitter as much because it feels more passive in a lot of ways. like, engagement can just be a driveby fav or even if you do reply or someone replies to you there's an inherent built-in acceptance of delay in response or even just like. Acknowledgement By Fav Can Be Enough. which imo is definitely not the atmosphere for discord at least ime. but it's still not great for fandom stuff for a ton of other reasons including the complete lack of archiving. and honestly, i abandoned my public twitter for my locked down private one for a multitude of reasons and the anxiety around having to keep up some sort of Public Persona is definitely part of it, so i absolutely understand you on that level as well.

tumblr has its own issues obviously, but like you i never felt the same sense of pressure or dread here. a big part of that is obviously the whole reblog system in itself, in that it's totally fine and even encouraged to just, idk , silently curate pretty pictures for a bit and at most commenting in the tags when you have something to say or w/e, but also being able to do the whole shooting random thoughts into the void whenever you want to instead. it's also much, much easier to curate my experience here than anywhere else lol. much more robust blacklisting functions available (albeit reliant on third party extensions) and if you didn't choose to put something on your dash then tumblr won't for the most part force it on you. so that for sure helps.

idk, i don't have the solution! because like, yes in many ways discord and twitter are suboptimal for fandom stuff but in many ways it's also down to the fact that i do obviously have pretty severe anxiety around these things and struggle with it immensely in a way that a lot of people obviously don't. which sucks but isn't their problem.

i still think we should all move to dreamwidth though. if enough of us hermits congregate there other people eventually have to follow, right? that's how we all ended up on tumblr in the first place :x

[niniane17]

So apparently a HP series has been confirmed.

No, I'm not planning to watch it, and I realize that this is the least of Rowling's issues, but I really need to rant. I'm angry at myself that I even have feelings about it, but there is nothing I can do so I might as well scream into the void here.

I thought I didn't care this time, I really did. I thought I had it easy, since I already don't like any of the HP content post 2007, including some really embarrassing content in the interviews and on Pottermore.

But...a new series is something I had wanted for years. I've been angry at the movies since at least the Prisoner of Azkaban came out* Even as a child I could tell there had been a shift after that, that the movies had become something different, not quite like the books I so loved, and it only became worse from there. If you watch all of them in a row, you can tell they grew more and more preoccupied with keeping up with the popular trends, and fitting in with the Hollywood conventions of the time. We all know the famous example, and any (ex) fan can tell you their least favorite (mine is Hermione's perfect hair). It got to the point that Radcliffe acted more like Harry Potter when he was joking around on the set than when he was delivering his lines.

Works like A Very Potter Musical had shown that it was absolutely possible to represent a more flawed version of the characters and people would like them (Hermione especially!).

Up until a few years ago, I was hoping that somebody, perhaps somebody who grew up with the books, would remake them in the next decades, but after the fandom crashed in 2020 I realized that it was better to just enjoy the characters as I pictured them in my head.

But now it's finally happening, and I know it's only happening because Rowling has a grudge and wants to take revenge on Warner Bros, the movies' leading actors and generally all the people who told her or implied that Harry Potter can exist without her. And I also know this will inevitably lead to the "re-evaluation" of the movies and the cast as the DEFINITIVE version of the characters, or even more woke (a take that unfortunately already exists about movie!Hermione, for example), unlike the new cast that will be labeled as "pandering".

(Except Snape. In his case, there will be countless digital ink spilled about how he's not problematic enough, how some scenes in which he was rude abusive to the cast were missing, and wouldn't it be better if he just beat up his students? It was clearly implied in the books, right????) (I also DO NOT WANT to see a new Lily discourse unfold in real time on Twitter. That alone should be a good reason not to do this)

On a purely artistic level, I just don't trust this series to be good, since this is coming from an extremely petty place and Rowling isn't the type of writer that performs well when she's in that mood. Her latest book is an obvious example, but a lot of faults in the later Harry Potter books can be traced back to this. If it goes well, it will be tainted by all the bad things happening around Rowling. If it doesn't, it will be another nail in the coffin of the Harry Potter fandom, which truly doesn't deserve it.

And...well, I'm sad. This is truly something I had wished for, and, if circumstances were different, I'd jump around with joy. But then again, if circumstances were indeed different, there would be no new series at all, since Rowling wouldn't have anything to prove. Still, for somebody who once claimed not to care in the least about her own legacy, this is quite a decision to make. I only wish she truly didn't care, and let the fandom tries to piece it all together, and it's done since 2007.

*which I still condider a bad movie even as "its own thing", I don't care how many homages it pays to German expressionism. Also Peter Lorre didn't need some gross makeup to show he was the bad guy, did he? So why did poor Timothy Spall? It undermines the whole point of evil being undetectable at first and also the great lengths Voldemort went through in his search for power and...ok, sorry, I just don't like this movie very much.

[doomedandstoned]

Give Us BARABBAS: French Doomers Return with New LP

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

BARABBAS had just released Messe pour un chien in 2014 when Doomed & Stoned sprang to life. Now at last, after eight years of silence, the doom 'n' heavy metal troupe are back with their second full-length -- and what a tour de force it is!

The album swings into motion after a creepy public service announcement: "La mort appelle tous les vivants," which means "Death calls all the living." It reminds me just a smidgen of calls to "Bring out your dead!" when the death cart came rolling by during the Black Death -- which was, by all accounts, the most ruinous pandemic in our pockmarked history, claiming more than 75 million souls.

“Je suis mort depuis bien longtemps” riffs on that familiar (if not enshrined) motif to Black Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf." The song is a great headbanging starter, and while the lyrics are all in French the sentiment couldn't be more relatable. Saint Rodolphe reveals, “I’ve been dead for a long time.” The Barabbas frontman has the pipes to fully convince us, regardless of whether or not we track with his native tongue. The past three years have left so many of us feeling spent, numb, hollow, apart. The organ chimes in with a gravitas that gives the whole thing a dire, Gothic feel.

There's no mistaking the Biblical subtext of a band called Barabbas, for it was he the bloodthirsty crowd called to be set free in place of Jesus Christ, who was then forced to carry his own cross to the Place of the Skull. The five-member Combs-la-Ville crew play up the religiosity of it all, each taking the name "Saint" and even referring to their followers as a cult (tongue-in-cheek, of course).

“Le Saint Riff Rédempteur” is “The Holy Redeemer Riff” and is surging with fist-raising energy. Longtime guitarist Saint Stéphane (who's been a pillar of this outfit since its 2007 inception) and his counterpart Saint Thomas here give us a winteresque mix, with the rhythm section of Saint Jean-Christophe (drums) and Saint Alexandre (bass) charging bravely through the snow-blind madness towards the dim light of New Year.

“De la viande” (“Meat”) reminds us of our frail humanity, juxtaposing the human race with all its pomposity against the cruel grandeur of a universe that cares nothing for Twitter checkmarks, designer clothes, luxury cars, or the creature comforts of central heating and air conditioning. The clock is indeed ticking on mortals and our artificial world. For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. As with its predecessor, some of the song's most powerful moments are in the last two minutes, with wicked soloing and maniacal vocals a highlight.

“Le cimetière des rêves brisés” is “The cemetery of broken dreams,” where human desires, ambitions, hopes and visions are interred. Barabbas hold the funeral rites in a hazy, swirling atmosphere of rhythm and melody earnestly, with a clean chorus and grief-struck guitar licks.

“Sous le signe du Néant” (“Under the sign of the Void”) is like a team of horses galloping into the unknown. Here I miss not being bilingual, as the band has revealed in interviews that the song contains a sprinkling of dark humor in addition to its pessimistic overtones. Overlapping screams of anguish arrest us five-minutes in and the song rumbles to a finish with a stinging guitar solo.

We've had some fantastic synthesizer effects throughout the album, accenting each track at the most opportune moments. These come from keyboardist Emmanuel Peyraud from the band NorthWinds (featured along with Barabbas on our 2018 compilation Doomed & Stoned in France). Here, sounds of the flute welcome us to the private hell of “Mon crâne est un crypte (et j’y suis emmuré),” which translates: “My head is a crypt (and I’m trapped inside).” You'll be forgiven for falling into a hypnotic trance under its spellbinding riffmaking. Stay tuned for some beautiful twin guitar harmonies, along with one of the most passionate vocal performances of the record.

It ain't a Barabbas ritual until all the skeletons come out and dance. “La valse funèbre,” therefore, fittingly closes the album. The band tells us inspiration for this track comes from Dance Macabre, the famous composition by 19th century Frenchman Camile Saint-Saens, as well as the surreal 1962 horror film Carnival of Souls. Even though I don't know the song verbatim, my spirit wants to sing along with this damning dirge of death. Saint Rodolphe's crooning is strong and sincere, if not sinister. Devilish guitars and a spritely bass enter at just the right moments to keep us waltzing to the bitter end.

La Mort Appelle Tous Les Vivants by Barabbas is coming out this weekend on December 9 via Sleeping Church Records, who will issue the album digitally and on compact disc (get it here). Stick this on a playlist with Candlemass, Cathedral, Serpent Venom, and Hela.

Give ear...

LISTEN: Barabbas - La Mort Appelle Tous Les Vivants (2022)

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[elemental1379]

Wall of text incoming but I’m kinda just dumping my initial thoughts on Tumblr:

Honestly, I should have come here much sooner, I like this layout way better than twitter (at least on mobile, pc feels a bit weird). The way everything is presented, the placement of menus and buttons, the advertising feels less intrusive, the whole site just feels a lot more… refined(?) I was a pinterest guy initially so that might be why I like this layout better but as someone who always just kinda admired tumblr from a distance but never got into it out of lack of any real need to, I can safely say this already feels miles better than twitter for me. A thing I like about discord is it feels very private and cozy, kinda like an agoraphobia or kenophobia type thing, where I can just stick to small or private servers and avoid being active in big ones, but twitter feels like you’re in the middle of a crowd and you have to scream everything into the void, where there’s no sense of privacy or kinda having that space to yourself, at least for me. I think tumblr feels like a good middle ground, closer to the sense of community I get from discord, but still open to new people and outside interaction like twitter, which is good for someone like me who’s more introverted until I get to know people and I like to keep to my own little communities, only really branching out to explore. Lot of text but I’m also discovering tumblr seeming has no character limit like twitter, or at least a much higher one, which fits my style a lot better, as even with discord I find myself wanting to make long posts or dump my thoughts in detail but then deleting my text or not posting at all to avoid flooding chat, and to avoid covering the entire screen. Discord makes it too easy for me to flood chat, twitter has a restrictive character limit, but I think here the posting format fixes both issues for me, so I’m a lot more comfortable doing something like this post.

Anyways, I know that was a lot but I wanted to get it out there both to vent and to explain my takeaway, TLDR tumblr > twitter for me.

[the-creepy-guy-around-the-corner]

Excuse the screaming on here, don't want to scream on twitter because thats easier to connect back to me and this is stupid enough I really don't want to talk to folks I know IRL about this.

And this is gunna be like mega privileged problems so putting it in a cut just need to scream to the void

Aghhhhhh my dad is selling his business. Which is fine, but I still rely on my parents for support a lot financially. I feel awful, I'm a grown ass adult with a full time job but life is expensive and my parents agreed to help support me because I'm super passionate about my job but it's a job that famously does not pay well. For about ten or fifteen years I got REALLY lucky, dads business was doing amazing, I got to live a very privileged fun life for I'd say about ten years. I got two college degrees out of it, got to live in multiple countries, traveled a lot, got to enjoy expensive hobbies, I built a wonderful wardrobe and collection of nice things..... and just the general feeling of not having to stress about bills or basic expenses. Then dads business got stolen from to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars this last year, and he ate the whole cost so no one else would be effected benefits or jobs wise. So I tightened my belt so I could ask less from them, and I'm now barely scraping by. Each paycheck I now have a hundred or so to my name before I get paid again. Ive hardly been able to touch the debt I've been trying to pay down. And now that he's selling the business that flashing light of 'no help' is getting bigger and closer and I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. Sort of panicked and went on a huge spree canceling as many subscriptions as I can (I already deleted most of them, but it broke my heart to start canceling subscriptions to friends patreon's or artists I want to support or to favorite games and such), deleted all of my worst spender apps from my phones, and looking into more side gigs. I really have no room to complain, this is no more than most people have to do and I'm honestly still incredibly lucky and blessed. But I'm going to miss being able to pick up the bill for friends or buying them presents, I'm really going to miss leaving huge tips on places, and GOD I am going to miss traveling, I already do. My friends are planning a trip to Japan rn and I'm so happy for them but I know I cant afford it no matter how much I want to go.

But most of all I'm going to miss the lack of stress. I went from never having to look at the price of the menu at a nice restaurant to eating nothing but tuna fish sandwiches for the rest of the week because I don't want to spend more money on food. Like I'm gunna be fine, I'm not going to starve, but the stress of money has been dwindling my already not super great mental health and the knowledge that it will always be this way from here on, is frankly fucking terrifying. Spending the rest of my life doing the mental gymnastics I need to make sure I have enough money for bills each month, and knowing I wont be able to buy a house or really build up savings (at least not until my parents die, and I am understandably not wanting that to happen either) is fucking depressing.

Especially knowing that if I have kids I wont be able to give them the opportunities I had growing up. I've for so long tied my self worth to gifting things to others, buying meals, treating my friends and so on. I really am going to have to tackle how I view my self worth and what I bring to the table friendship wise because gifts and generosity are things I just cant afford right now and with the job I have I don't know if I ever will again. (well.... unless I marry rich lol) I'll figure it all out, look for more expenses I can cut, look for more side jobs and so on. I'm probably making it out to be worse than it is, but having such a radical change in lifestyles has a bit of whiplash that really stings. Hopefully after a while I can start paying down my debt more which will help with interest rates, and if I keep cutting down on expenses maybe I'll be able to start saving. I doubt anyone has read this, if you did thanks for listening to me whine and I hope you have a good day.

[windowsandfeelings]

49 and 50 for the ask game!

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

I've got about 3 things going right now with minimal progress on all of them, but here's a bit of a Nace fic that's tentatively titled A Crack in Everything (I started writing this pre-season 4):

Bess sighs. “A spellbreak,” she repeats. “It’s a ritual that’s, well, it’s basically turned the building into a magic-free zone. It can’t get through the door.” “What does that mean?”  Nancy’s got that look in her eye, like she’s assembling a thousand piece, three-dimensional puzzle in her brain. He misses watching her build a mystery, feels the loss of it like a sharp jab to the heart. He wonders what she’s seeing that the rest of them aren’t, yet. “Magic can’t get in,” Bess clarifies. “Rituals, curses, they get washed away as soon as someone crosses the threshold.” “Was that the sensation when we came in?” Nancy asks. “What sensation?” “Like walking through an ice cold shower,” he says. “But..more dry.” “As soon as we walked through the door,” Nancy adds. Bess shakes her head. “I didn’t feel anything,” she says. “Did you?” she asks Addy. “Not that I noticed.” They both turn to look at Nancy and Ace. “You must have had some sort of magic clinging to you,” Bess says. She looks at them so closely he’s about to start squirming.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Hmm, how about:

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

I am always and forever baffled by the popularity of All the Lights that Light the Way are Blinding, not because I don't think it's good (I do!), but because it's SO MUCH more popular than anything else I've ever posted. I published it almost 11 years ago, and it still gets several new kudos every week, sometimes several in a single day.

I know at this point it's become a self-fulfilling prophecy, because a lot of people go into ao3 and sort by kudos, but the initial success was weird. It's not my primary fandom (or even one I was actively participating in, beyond screaming into the void of twitter and tumblr back when it was on), I had never written anything for the fandom before, it took me like 8 years to write another Dair fic...I'm sure there was just some sort of unpredictable chemical magic to the time that I published it (which was admittedly only a couple of weeks after the series finale), but...I don't know! It's weird! (And wildly flattering and lovely and I'm so glad people seem to like it so much.)

It just goes to show that you never know when or why one thing will hit and something else won't. And it's usually not about quality.

[rinskirt]

does ami still know how to use tumblr?

i figured i could start journaling again. tbh i always liked long-form journaling a lot more than short-form blurbs and updates. twitter is more for memers, or people who like to make big, bold statements. i like to flesh things out, or think in pointless circles, which usually means 10-tweet threads no one asked for cluttering up their timelines. my posts aren't funny, or entertaining. i feel like i come off as really annoying on twitter. which for a long time has sucked and made me use of the site unpleasant. especially since it seemed like the last one left. but with twitter falling, where else is there to go?

i wish we could just bring back livejournal. i feel like the way hey separated things into communities--so you weren't forced to get annoyed over memes that aren't even for you in the first place, or diatribes about ships that are only logical and enjoyable to the people who ship them--was sincerely superior. i miss it. sadly, i don't know if it will ever come back since social media prioritizing engagement means the more people who see something, the better--even more so if it starts a fight because that will mean even MORE engagement, and even MORE clicks, and the cycle just keeps going.

tbh, for a couple years now i've been thinking it would, mentally, be so much better for me if i just quit social media. then i wouldn't have to see my friends' super exciting lives while i'm sitting home alone for the nth weekend in a row. it would mean less comparing myself to other people. more time to spend on doing things that would actually better my life. but it's a scary thought. because i'm so used to social media, so used to relying on the constant presence of others, would i still reach out to people? do i even know how to reach out to people anymore, without just screaming into the void that is twitter and hoping someone hears? will everyone forget i ever existed if they no longer see my tweets? or, worse, will they actually be glad i'm not on their feed anymore? would leaving social media just mean i'm alone from here on out?

idk. this is the dumb shit that haunts me. i grew up on the internet and on social media--was a part of the first generation to do so--so it's hard to envision my life without it. (really, social media is probably why my ability to reach out to others is so stunted...) plus, as an otaku, you kind of need social media to connect to others who share your interest. at least, you do if you're not an intensely outgoing extrovert. which i am most definitely not.

going to the genshin concert made me long so much for at least one actual flesh-and-blood friend who would want to go with me to stuff like that. i had so many feelings and thoughts that i just stewed over the entire walk back to the station, and then the hour and a half train ride home. all around me were people discussing it excitedly during every intermission, but i just kinda sat there and stared into space, listening to everyone around me talk, taking in all their thoughts and feelings and not being able to share any of my own.

i'm not someone who minds doing things alone. i think because of who i am, and the life i live, and the illness i've been dealt, i couldn't survive if i wasn't willing to do things alone. i feel like maybe that's a very lonely thing to say, and a very lonely way to think, but it's just my reality. i decided to abandon my entire life in the states where i already didn't have a ton of friends, and i came to a place where most of the people are just as shy and unwilling to reach out to strangers as i am. plus i continue in this limbo of moderately-okay-but-not-great japanese, at the level where you plateau if you don't speak much. and i don't speak much. i have a lot of trauma around speaking. it takes a very safe atmosphere to coax it out of me.

i was considering starting a journaling style that i saw recommended, where rather than writing, you record yourself speaking your thoughts and feelings. and while i know that would probably be very therapeutic and helpful for me in the long run, i haven't been able to bring myself to do it. in a book i've been reading lately, "the body keeps the score" by bessel van der kolk, he discusses how trauma freezes the part of the brain that processes language, and makes it hard to actually discuss what you're feeling. that's always been a problem for me. i don't want to talk about things. i don't want to put certain feelings and thoughts into the world. i don't even know how. not even to my phone in the privacy of my home.

but i do want to try it, if i can get myself to that point. i really do want to get better. i want so badly to stop being afraid of everyone in my life, of being abandoned by them, or being hated by them if i open up and show them the worst of me. if i admit how lost and sad and trapped i feel a lot of the time. i feel like i look like such a negative person, such a bitchy and whiny sadsack of a human, but it's because i'm afraid of everything. i'm like that annoying small dog that's so afraid you're going to kick it and so it makes itself as unpleasant to be around as possible so you just leave it be. if no one likes me, if everyone just leaves me alone, i'm safe. i can't be hurt anymore.

for how sad this journal entry comes off, though, i feel like i've been in an okay place mentally lately. the fact that i've been going out and doing stuff again is a sign of that. for a long while i remembered the first year i was in japan, how excited i was to go out and just do things, even if i had no one to do them with. but sometime around covid, that started slipping away--i stopped leaving my apartment until i was invited out, and stopped going to restaurants and shops and events unless someone would hold my hand. but i'm finally in a place where i feel like i've started to rebuild a bit.

i've been thinking a lot lately about what my priorities are, and what i can do to achieve those things, so i can have some semblance of peace and stability in my life. and right now, i feel like i want to just prioritize the idea of feeling good about myself and good about my life. i worked so hard to get to where i am now, and it feels like such a waste to be living it miserably. and while part of me can't help but feel like being miserable is just the hand i was dealt with my anxious, weird brain, i want to try to do something about it. i don't want to just continue to be sad about things and let those things fester even if they're things that can be changed.

so for now, i'll change the things that are in my power to change--my diet, my sleeping habits, getting enough exercise, doing more of the things i enjoy, cutting out more of the things that make me miserable (no matter how fun and addictive they seem in the moment...), and just being kinder to myself if i fail in any of those at any given moment. i want to feel like i am some power over my life again, however little.

anyway. now that i've made myself cry writing this, i need to run to the store. but it truly is therapeutic to actually type all this out. i enjoyed it. i missed journaling. i'll have to do this more often.

[owl-deer]

So, since Twitter is dying a slow and painful death (or at least going through something chronic from which it will never recover), I decided to move my non-native English maybe-poetry here, because why not. Nobody reads it anyway and I learned long ago that if I worry whether people read me I'll never write, just hoard it in my brain like some word dragon.

So, let's go.

1.

(2017)

When December is over we'll start again from the very very beginning. The world is spinning, shaking and we dance.

Come here, hold my hand again - you know this waltz. Three steps for promises, that slip off my tongue like fishes, one swing for your little kiss that fills me with an ocean of hope. We're dancing, the world is spinning, shaking, crumbling under our feet.

We hear nothing but music and the rhythmic sound of our steps.

December is over, New Year's coming, and the snow, white and cleansing, falls, covering all the cracks and gently melts in your hands.

2.

(2017)

Silence is magic that fills the air with a thin web of unspoken words

The curse of struggling with the screaming world

The void between you, extending your hand, and me, small and trembling, not strong enough to hold it.

3.

(2018)

You have a dream

I listen while hiding between your heartbeats, how you toss on the sheets: your soft exhale mingles with roaring waves of your ocean.

You have a dream.

With the first sunlight reflected in your eyes, still half-blind and drowsy, it flows away leaving only a subtle shadow of something beautiful.

But sometimes you wake up, limp and fuzzy, and then you are dragged back into the depths where you tremble, you struggle to breathe. And the walls seem to slowly crumble, and the light from an open window seems to be painfully bright.

And it lasts for hours.

I always hear it.

Thousands of miles away I lay down as if to fit into your body and whisper soundlessly the lullaby of the full Moon casting her light upon your raging ocean, hushing the storm.

And you have a dream again.

4.

I have been carving our story On the walls On your fair skin On my shaky hands I wake up, slowly And the morning Is sweaty, salty So lonely And there is nothing else left To say

I know, it's been too long So I am sorry For still feeling That way

5.

you know this feeling of being busy making myself useful waiting so painfully waiting to that light tic-tac-toc and the low chime of a century-old clock the call for seven

seven hours without a word from you seven wasted chances to hold your hand seven kisses that failed to happen more than seven months ago

I'm waiting for that telltale sign to end my workday to send you a text to imagine your soft smile (the ghost of a dimple that I so desperately want to taste is always present) 'hey there' I'm typing 'it's been a while'

and seven hours and thousands of kilometers turn into seven soft kisses captured in seven words

6.

it's nothing new I'm walking down the avenue of love I'm watching the landscapes of my everchanging feelings like an erratic line of a heartbeat in the ER

No nurse will come as it peaks and a high-pitched sound screams in my ears as my breath hitches and, with hands, trembling with fear, I hand out all this bloody mess of my feelings to you, my lovely to you, my dawn and my dusk

to you, the one I think of when the coastal city sheds the warmth of the sun and dresses up in blurry lights of the night

7.

Missing you is like breathing under the water The lump in my throat The heaviness in my chest — all of it has your name all of it is filling my empty body Until the glass breaks Until the water is rushing forward, crushing my ribcage, overflowing my eyes, my voice.

My words are sobbing for you. But I am silent, silenced, muted, like a boring, forgotten movie. But I am blank, grey, buried under the water.

I have so much to say, but words fail to form, fail to become a sound,

a call, reaching out to you.

8.

it's not love I'm not allowed to name this thing you and me share

we share thoughts lightest of touches giggles late night confessions

we share worries scars scratches torn paper clawed truth

I stand there, naked born anew I open my soul, shredding skin and bones away I open gates to my core and wait

And, like a miracle you go through

9.

Imagine poetry as a word unwritten incomprehensible repeated by thousands of lips over and over

The feeling composed into a thought composed into a poem hovers in my clouded mind

Imagine poetry as an unkind God he unforgivingly strips me from layers of armored past reveals the truth

Imagine poetry as you silent, standing In the eye of the storm, trembling, but strong -

so beautiful

My eyes close and there is nothing but cool air of your content sigh

Imagine poetry as love

10.

It always comes back.

At first - Slow, Like a ripple On the surface Of the quiet lake At dawn. It's gentle, Peaceful And, oh, so beautiful.

But you know better. You saw typhoons Started by those. You faced Tsunamis.

You know better and yet: Mesmerized, you take a stone, Flat and polished from the days You were drowning in salty water. You throw it, curious, (As if it's going to be different As if you'd find something new) And water Is rippling And rippling And rippling back

With a wave, caressing your toes.

With a wave, hitting you in the stomach Flowing into your eyes

You can't breathe Your lungs, filled with questions, Struggle to find air. Your legs, heavy with failures, Wobble, Buckle, Break.

The waves (Raging, Heartless, And, oh, so beautiful) Throw you into the coast Into the sandy soil, Leave you, like a jellyfish, To melt under the sun.

The soft whisper Of the ocean Takes you back To the days You hated its calmness Wishing It promised The storm.

Gonna post the rest tomorrow since there's a lot left and I don't want to make a monster post.

[ellavaday]

this week's dose of sandra screaming into the void was a bit delayed bc my brain turned into literal mush this weekend (i blame the vids of carmen performing at dragcon and the migraine i've had since sunday evening) but we are here, with puppets and roasting the dres1 top 5

sethlas mirror message is a callback to the musical challenge and him singing about meat subs (🍆), but it doesn't actually say 'sandwich of terror/bocadillo de terror', keeping up with the dick euphemism, teror is a town in canarias known for their chorizo, so if you go there and ask for a bocadillo de teror (or teró in canarian accent) you get a sub made with chorizo from that town... It's also a meme bc this vid went viral; in a funny coincidence, or funny for me bc i'm easily amused, this year teror has decided to make the longest bocadillo de chorizo in the world for el día de canarias (announced a day before the episode went live)

juriji and marina saying in confessionals that they don't know where their relationship is going with each other is hilarious now after the twitter thing, welp, i guess we know how that one turned out

three cheers for venedita not keeping the blonde and not wanting to work ever again, what a mood

okay i wrote this one down when the migraine was at it's worst and now i'm doubting it but estrella says something about movies and i immediately thought of this jukebox musical of raffaella carrà songs in spanish called explota explota (i don't think she's referencing it, but it's the first thing i thought of... oh and i missed the reference to the 'rumore rumore' song last week but i am in no condition to edit much more than this today so i'm writing it here and moving on)

the next day they enter the workroom room talking about friends of la veneno (sandra la camellona, la tonisha, la valkiria and rocío de sevilla) which she talks about on a show about the dangers of back alley surgeries, here's a thread

the mama wolf has five little cubs is a lullaby (that reminds me once again how much i hate the idea of having children myself)

i did agree with the phone call thing in untucked coming off a bit arrogant... and that sethlas had a point, only a poorly expressed one bc it was untucked and emotions fly high (sorry juriji te quiero)

there's a tiny dif between what estrella says and the subs (and what juriji understands)... she did not say juriji was dramatic or arrogant, she was saying that juriji doing the dumb call thingie did not come off like she was trying to turn down the drama in the situation at hand, and instead came off as arrogant [also in the situation at hand], not that she was dramatic/arrogant in general

when supremme shows up in the rumail (supremme mail? mail de luxe?), marina quotes this song by raphael and estrella says ja ho tenim which they don't translate in the subs in spanish, for those of you unfamiliar with catalan, it means ya lo tenemos (not quite 'here we go' but def the same sentiment)

draguiñoles = drag + guiñoles (if you speak spanish and also wonder why spaniards call títeres/marionetas/puppets like that, bc i did, it comes from guignol)

porque a todo el mundo le gusta meter la mano ('cause everyone likes pulling their hands inside' in the subs) is a joke on the expression meter mano in spanish (to cop a feeling)

this is one of my favorite mini challenges jsgh my theory is that vene is funny but only when no one is looking, like the confessionals, or being a little bitch like violet or sagi but only when you don't expect it; juriji killed me with that recreation of vene's singing bc it was spot on; and ofc sharonne destroyed it imitating estrella

hello dres1 top 5💖... this is only tangentially related but after seeing dovima and ariel together in the official viewing party and talking about how everyone says they're identical, i rlly can't unsee it now

anabel alonso, the guest judge, is a well known actress, comedian and gay icon (like marina said she's amparo in almodovar's kika, she's also diana in 7 vidas and the voice of dory in the spanish dub of finding nemo... basically our cultural analogue to ellen degenres but with none of the controversy, thankfully)

idk if pupi called estrella venus bc she reminded her of the venus of willendorf but it was the first thing me and spanish twitter thought of and estrella agrees shejsh also likely a reference to venus xtravaganza, now my question is how did vene turn into marta when assigning people

when killer hugs juriji and says go get 'em and eat them all up, in spain the expression is comérselas con patatas (eat them with potatoes) hence why juriji adds 'and with mayo' which i love bc it feels extremely belgian of her (potatoes with mayo are not as common in spain as they are in european countries that are located a bit more up north... we do have patatas alioli tho)

the way i almost did believe sharonne was going to make marina go last 💀

venedita thank god you're pretty fbkhfdn when she and juriji are talking about juriji's grandma and how she met queen fabiola, it's fabiola de mora y aragon, the consort queen of belgium (the aunt of the current king there)... and belgium is definitely not in central europe

speaking of grandmothers, this is mostly an observation in first gen immigrant (and from the pov of someone that didn't actually have grandparents around while growing up) but the comment of vene loving her grandma too reminded me that now that i have friends with kids (that also don't have immediate family with them) i find rather interesting how reliant spain is of grandparents for childrearing? like sure there's daycare, it exists, but it's definitely not normal to just drop your kid at one of them and come pick them up by dinner every day of the week bc kids are usually minded by grandparents after school (or it seems to be the case of most of my friends), it's probably no more or less common than in the rest of southern europe (i have no clue), but it didn't even occur to me how would it be to not be raised on daycare and back to back club activities till my friends with kids here were starting to fret about how to align their own work schedule with their kid's bc many of them don't have immediate family to rely on

another random observation, this time in multilingual, i am fascinated by how juriji adapts expressions that aren't as common in spanish because they make sense in other languages she speaks (i don't even bother most of the time, you deal with spanglish when talking to me or you die), when she says 'going around like a headless chicken' it strikes me in spanish as something rather old-fashioned? it's definitely correct, just not something you'd hear often (i have never heard anyone say it in conversation at all neither here nor in latam)

the story about juriji coming out recently explains a lot to me bc when i was googling the queens i didn't know about when the mtq dropped i could find some things about her work as a musician and some interviews but literally all of them used her dead name and old pronouns (her stage name was still juriji tho)

mainstage time

when supremme is introducing the roast with 'it will burn some flesh' she actually says that when she smells a roast she gets goosebumps (literally what she says is that her skin opens up, which yes ofc it's innuendo)

when supremme welcomes anabel alonso, anabel answers with bienvenida perez which is the name of a spanish tv personality better known for being the ex-wife of anthony buck (a former tory member of the british parliament), cheating on him with peter harding, the ensuing scandal thus making harding resign, divorcing him too and then marrying a rich russian count (i have managed to avoid every single trash tv show she's ever been on so far but i have to admit i'm a little impressed)

supremme introduces the theme of the runway, spanish women, by saying 'women that have changed history, an in heels' in the subs but she actually says con dos ovario 'with two ovaries'; the expression con dos huevos/con los huevos bien puestos (with two balls/with the balls firmly in place) means to do something with bravery; the distaff counterpart of those expression change balls to ovaries

how pretty do all of the dres1 girls look here?

marina's roast

based on the puppet show i feared for marina (specially after being paired with dovima of all ppl) but oh my god? it was so good?? the rioplatense accent murdered me

the character the hada marina (marina's fairy) is a pun on hada madrina (fairy godmother)

for carmen: carmen flores, the sister of lola flores, was also a known flamenco singer and actress; carmen follala (fuckher) sounds really funny (i doubt that argentinian people use the word follar for fucking but said with the rioplatense accent it's definitely is a great pun for farala); i am probably losing the plot bc migraines are not supposed to last this long but misterios a resolver (mysteries yet to be solved) sounds like a reference to something but i just don't know what right now

the read to sagi about having a personality that 'stands out on the side of a milk cartoon missing' in the subs, in spanish is brilla por su ausencia (lit. shining for their absence) which normally in english would be translated as 'conspicuous by it's absence' (it would definitely fit marina to use a word like conspicuous bc whoever says tesitura anymore for situation? but idk how many people would find that funny enough for a roast)

stop i deadass sent killer a DM once saying she should run for presidency of the community of madrid back during her season bc it was also electoral season in madrid 🤣 (she did answer saying she would)

the thing about dovima being called la zorra del infierno is bc zorra (lit. fox) colloquially means slut/bitch

there's just one actual typo in the subs for her set when she's reading pupi, when it says 'what a shame, what a shame... two runways' it should say 'your runways', that one's also in the spanish sub for some reason

sharonne's roast

for a second i fully forgot anabel was there and i thought she was calling ana anabel from the horror movie

that read to dovima about not saying anything and letting twitter keep doing that for her, jfc that was 💀

for carmen naranja- i mean farala; she makes a reference to naranjito, the official mascot of the football cup of 1982 celebrated in spain; she calls her honorary daughter of valencia bc oranges are a typical product of that part of spain; tener caspa or ser casposo (lit. having dandruff) is how you call someone with rancid ideas and bad taste (we don't think carmen is rancid but her brand is old school spanish beauty and old school is a lot of what can be considered casposo in the hands of unpleasant ppl if anything, carmen is reclaiming it for the gays)

estrella's roast

i kind of didn't expect estrella to be this manic when she's nervous? she's manic for sure when it comes to comedy but it's really notorious on this episode; oh well... her character is estrellita 'ayquete' castro (estrellita [im going to] castrate [you]) and she's basically playing... off brand paquita salas (only andalusian) ((estrellita castro is also the name of a famous flamenco diva from the 30s))

she said on twitter they didn't show it but she had props for all of the girls, they just showed the glue gun for killer and pupi's mp3

guys did you know killer was a doctor?

for pupi she calls her pupi veneno (poison) bc it's close to poisson (fish in french and her actual name) which eh... those jokes are a bit trite tbh pupi is usually a good sport but even she's said online she is bored by the lack of originality and ppl constantly getting her name wrong; pupi's putón reggaetonero remix came out in january this year and i can only guess she told estrella bc this was filmed in december ((it's funny cause it's true tho .. there is a christmas version of putón verbenero)) and pupi's filmography as a guest is astronomical but as a contestant she's only done drag race, spain's got talent and who wants to marry my mom? (a spin off of who wants to marry my son)

for carmen patata- i mean farala, she mentions carmen de mairena, a trans singer and friend of la veneno

and then we have sagittaria diazepam (sagittaria valium bc diazepam is the name of an anxiety medication here) and dormida nurmi (drowsy nurmi bc, again, dovima is the living embodiment of go girl give us nothing)

venedita's roast

that joke about dovima liking things said to her the same way she likes semen: to her face is a direct quote from s1

salida is wordplay bc it can mean exit/departure but ser salido/a means to always think about sex

for dovima she calls her a lladró doll which is a brand of collectable figurines that are stupid expensive and usually found in the houses of grandmothers (onyx doll look was based on this)

pupi started doing drag bc she worked as a cast member in the amusement park of madrid playing the girl from the exorcist and someone that did drag saw her and introduced her to drag in the gay neighborhood of madrid (it's in her mtq vids)

she calls killer a catechist bc killer came from a deeply religious background and used to be a youth pastor and the joke on killer's goodness being easy to tell on her face is a read on how everyone kept talking about how unsettling her face looked in confessionals for s1 which 😬 vene ilu but that one is a tad cruel if you know what the mean gays were saying online about her back then

for carmen's true foundation, idk what is bethune of judea in english (i couldn't find a name for it) but it's a petroleum based tint used to make wood and ceramic look older/darker 💀 later when she says that her roast and juriji's were a la altura del betún de judea it's because a la altura del betún is an idiom for a humiliating situation

juriji's roast

chachi piruli, the expression juriji uses for having a good time is rather old fashioned and usually considered childish, like attempting to look cutesy on purpose (juriji playing dumb didn't work as well for her as it did with carmen last season on the roast... personally i don't love how much she tries to play dumb in challenges because she's shown she is actually much more intelligent than the brain dead bimbo brand she likes to portrait often)

runway time

juriji explained very well the 13 roses, half of them women from the socialist youth party that were assassinated by the franco government (half of them were also minors bc some were 18 and majority of age in spain back then was 21) in a purge his government did four months after they won the civil war called la saca de agosto, they were tortured and humiliated in an overcrowded jail known for inhumane conditions and were killed by firing squad behind a wall of the cemetery of la almudena in madrid; julio romero de torres was a spanish symbolist painter from la generación del 98; leticia sabater was indeed in the movie about the 13 roses, she is however better known bc she was a tv hostess in the 90s and she's now a reality tv personality with questionable music

MARINA🥰. when calvo says that's how he feels on the subway, tocada (touched), it's another joke on being felt up by people, and tocada y hundida is the name of a song by melendi (estar tocada can also mean to be sad/affected by something, that's the meaning of the song title)

i have no clue if this is actually what calvo is referring to but exclusiva is indeed a book, from 2012 (a fictional story whose main character is a journalist); the women estrella mentions, luisa carnes and carmen de burgos were both journalist and writers from the 20s and 30s that history has left forgotten; anabel quotes isabel pantoja, a popular singer, that came out of her house once when the paparazzi were waiting for her like vultures to fight them screaming no me vais a grabar más (you won't film me anymore!) ((she even destroyed a camera, honestly iconic, the way la pantoja is still harassed by the media here i can only compare to the way the early 00s treated britney, so the fact that she was ready to break some knees makes me v happy))

i have nothing for sharonne that was v straight forward

i have no clue what supremme and anabel are quoting with ella es el lienzo sobre el que escribe su historia, only that it has to be a quote the way they deliver it but ole for venedita bc women that worked in art are one of my favorite subjects (hers in particular was based on the surrealist painters maruja mallo and remedios varo, not her best recreation but just the fact that it's inspired on them is great for me)

i was talking about this w @myhusbandharryhamilton but knowing almost all of the concepts of the eliminated queens for this runway, i am legitimately furious this runway theme was not set earlier on; idk marisa's nor samantha's looks for this one (yet) but for the rest of the girls: ariel's was inspired by cleaning ladies (her mom was one and she's extremely proud of her, she also remembers very bitterly how many got sick for being deemed essential workers during the pandemic but not essential enough when vaccination started); jota hasn't published a picture but you can see her homage to gitana women in the whatcha packing with ana locking with the 16-spoke red dharmachakra and the colors of the romani people flag; like venedita, onyx theme is women in art but this time not painting, her concept was of three female artists in specific she worked with and are in 3d art, design and photography (and ofc it looks fucking stunning and i'm still mourning her not being in the show); diamante's look was a homage to migrant women (yes that hit me where i live thank you very much) and last but definitely not least, sethlas look was a homage to women that have been victims of domestic abuse and gender violence

that bottom two is the most heartbreaking one for me yet and i wish i could sue a3m for emotional distress but congratulations to marina who fucking killed it this ep

i know i keep repeating this but whoever timetabled this season has my entire heart, they've made references to mothers on mother's day, sant jordi for day of the roses, had the eurovision guest judge + raffaella runway the week before eurovision and, to quote @janeyjacke fuego by eleni as a lipsync song on eurovision weekend? poetic

and that's it, if you made it this far ole tu and thank you, i'm going to get another paracetamol and to watch derry girls 💖

[jeriafterdark]

On the bird app and how toxic it is vs Tumblr

Just some thoughts I had today (offtopic):

So I curate my social media very specifically. On tumblr, I only follow a few blogs that I trust / art blogs. On instagram, I follow wholesome Animal Crossing / art blogs. On twitter, I only follow ZZH/wholesome art blogs lol. So I never actually know what's going on in the bigger sphere of social media.

Well.

I decided to look at what's trending today, see what people are talking about, and man. WHAT A MISTAKE. It's such an infuriating environment. Someone is being cancelled by a myriad of faceless nameless voices. Who to believe, who not to believe, who is right, who isn't? It's so tiring. I can see why people quit twitter all the time. After what happened with ZZH in 813, I've become a lot more wary of jumping onto a bandwagon and shit-talking people. It's just... not a good look. How does it even help? What if someone really made a mistake, does screaming and yelling at them /memeing them actually teach them or help them? Does it help us? Not that it's anyone's duty to teach someone what they're doing wrong. It uses a lot of emotional labor. But someone's gotta, right?

As someone's who is a bit older part of the fandom, I've had a lot of opportunities to talk to people who say dumb shit, but most of the time, if I give them an opportunity to learn. They'll take it. It's a lot of work, mind, but someday, one of those chances that I took will pay off. It's better than ranting at someone on twitter and making them feel like shit - I don't even do that for people I actually hate. It's just mean and makes me feel bad.

Tumblr on the other hand.

I've been on tumblr for like over a decade lol, and it's never been toxic. Not to say that Anti's don't come here, not to say that tumblr is not a cesspool too, but it's just a different type of void? It's just full of VOID gays, niche fandoms, niche memes and cat videos, niche posts. It's impossible to find anything you tagged, and even more impossible to find things that are untagged. Posts disappear into the void, but somehow it's comforting?? It's easy to get lost in the content, and forget about likes or clout. Tumblr ppl don't care about followers or likes, your post may got lost into oblivion anyway.

Maybe it's bc the text limit is much higher? I think things that are worth saying require longer text limits than a tweet can provide. Unless you're a master of writing, (of which I am most CERTAINLY NOT).

Anyway, back to my ZZH/Word of Honor/ Danmei hole. I'm just gonna keep pumping out fun things, positive things, real discourse that may help someone somewhere someday. Being mean just takes too much energy. What's the point?

Whew, have some cute ZZH by the pool.