#like??? it'll be SO easy

[neosatsuma]

one of my favorite things about the Aubrey-Maturin books is the living, breathing quality of the characters (those are Real Guys who I know) which owes a lot, I think, to their realistic idiosyncrasies. They aren't caricatures who always react the same way to similar circumstances or whose skills you can necessarily predict. For one thing: they grow and change! Stephen develops some regard for his own life. Jack learns mathematics (and enjoys it!). But being good at one thing also doesn't imply any talent in other, seemingly similar areas. Stephen is actually pretty good in a fight but he's a hopeless klutz in most other physical pursuits. Jack is really athletic in the rigging but awkward on land. And then there's the day-to-day!! Something that might annoy one of them ordinarily will slip by unnoticed because he just got a letter from home. A mild inconvenience might cause disproportionate upset because he hasn't had coffee yet. They're so fluid and dynamic and multifaceted and reactive to their environments and THAT'S how you write REAL PEOPLE, BABEY!!!!

[rileys-battlecats]

girl help I started writing down oc thoughts and have started contemplating the logistics of how a city carved into the walls of a ravine would have access to fresh water

[somanywords]

thinking about when jack and davey figure it out. we all know how long it takes them to get there, but what about when they do? the fear, the relief, the feelings that get all twisted up on their way out and leave you shaking. the way jack grabs davey, holds on tight, tight enough that they both get ideas about never unraveling. this is theirs now. and now that they've got it...the thought of going backwards is almost too much to bear. kissing that turns into pure clutching, just breathing close together. waking up with hands fisted in t-shirts, fingers tight enough to cramp. slowly learning together, that i'm here means i'm here, means i'm staying here, means we're safe and i love you

[salty-an-disco]

[Approach the mirror]

...

It's You.

Something finds me in The Long Quiet, and brings me the gift of a fragile vessel.

It approaches me. Feathers cover its eyes. It cannot see me, and I cannot see it.

And something else. Something that seems similar to me, though not familiar. It occupies a space that isn’t occupied either by me or you.

It speaks words to me. I’m sorry, I don’t understand them. Though we are similar, we speak in different dialects.

You though. Though you don’t speak, your words are the same as mine. I can understand them. Can you understand Him?

I see.

These stories help widen my horizons and fill the creeks within my knowledge. And may yet make this language He speaks on known to me.

This one is short and sweet. She doesn't know anything of the world other than the kindness and mercy you showed her. Her hopefulness and curiosity born out of inexperience is something that'll never leave her. She will make for an open heart.

Do not mourn her. Her story has only begun.

[rushingheadlong]

You know something I don't think I've ever seen people talk about is how Freddie changed the lyrics for Big Spender.

Because in case you don't know, all original versions of the song are sung by women - and it is made very clear that they are singing to men:

The minute you walked in the joint I could see you were a man of distinction A real big spender [....] So let me get right to the point: I don't pop my cork for every man I see Hey, big spender Spend a little time with me

Probably not too surprising, then, that when Queen performed this song in 1974 Freddie had to do a bit of a gender-switch on it:

Though, it would probably be more accurate to say that Freddie made this song gender-neutral because he didn't change it to be about a woman. He eliminated the first use of "man" entirely and then sang "I don't pop my cork for everyone I see" (instead of "every man").

And honestly there's probably a whole dissertation you could write just about those changes alone, but what I really love is when Queen brought the song back in 1986 and Freddie changed the lyrics again:

Because yes he still dropped the first "man" but the "everyone" is changed and Freddie instead sang "every guy" with just the barest hint of a "-rl" sound at the end to give him plausible deniability if anyone asked about it.

So much of Freddie's music speaks to his experiences as a queer man but, because of the nature of the times in which he lived, he couldn't always be directly open about that fact. Most of his love songs are intentionally vague, and he sang about "somebody" or "you" to avoid having to use gendered terms as much as possible.

Freddie singing "I don't pop my cork for every GUYrl I see" wasn't just an adjustment to the original lyrics, it was a specific change from how Freddie had sang it before in order to make it more gay in a way that he could rarely be with his own music, and that is what I adore about this. It's such a little thing, but it gives such a unique insight into how Freddie balanced his sexuality and his stardom, and how the relationship between those two changed over the nearly 12 years between these performances.

[bobmckenzie]

GUESS WHO GOT HIRED ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[openphrase123]

giving myself a little treat by writing some of this thing that i will not post for approximately five hundred million years :3

[cinematicnomad]

i've been doing a deep cleaning of my apt today while watching mad men s4 so this has been a pretty successful day tbh.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Like technically I know chuuaku as a ship has a great angst potential too. Not to me though that ship is sugar spice and everything nice

[skitskatdacat63]

I drew all of my historical AU Sebs!!!!

In order they are(with relevant links to lore info if you are curious!!): Napoleonic Hussar Seb(x), Renaissance Muse Seb(x) and Boy King/Emperor Seb(x)

Let me know which you like best!!!

[dark-night-star-light]

Thinking about running a best character, best ship, or best quote bracket. Here's how each would hypothetically work (and vote in the poll at the bottom, please!):

The issue with characters would be that I’d have to go through all eighteen and a half books to find all the characters, or the other option is I only take characters that get submitted by the seven of us chilling here together in this hot tub (because like for Conor against Tepin, who the hell’s gonna vote for Tepin, right?). I would also allow you to submit propaganda to get your fav as far as possible and anti-paganda if you want a certain character to lose (as long as you keep it light-hearted and don't try to bash anyone that actually votes for that character etc. etc. etc.).

For ships, I will definitely only take submitted ships, because there are an infinite amount of ships that could happen otherwise. But I'll take anything no matter how crackship-y or rarepair-y it is (within limits, obviously no pedo/incest ships). Tentatively saying I will again allow propaganda and (light-hearted) anti-paganda, since I'm hoping we as a fandom are mature enough to let this be a chill experience and not devolve into ship bashing (I'm pretty sure we are, we're not the a/t/l/a fandom, so).

And for quotes, again, I'd only make a bracket out of quotes that get submitted. I'm not sure if I will allow propaganda for this one, because it seems kind of self-explanatory. But maybe, if people want it. If you submit a quote, you'd have to be able to tell me which book it was from, the page or chapter number, and who said it for it to be allowed into the bracket, although if you're not sure of one of those things, you could just tell me and I'd try to find it (I own all the books, so it wouldn't be a problem). I may or may not allow you to submit context or background for the quote (in some cases that can ruin the quote, or give it an unfair advantage). Quotes would be allowed to be as unserious or serious as you want, there will be no restrictions on it whatsoever (just don't make your quote, like, a single word or something).

In any case, you’d be allowed to submit as many characters/ships/quotes as you want. I would not reveal who submitted what character/ship/quote if that's something you choose to reveal to me, unless you want me to. I’m not sure how submissions will work, either through my ask box (don't worry, anon asks would be on) or through an anonymous Google form. Of course, my DMs are always open, too, if you want to submit something through there.

Your propaganda would be allowed to be anonymous or not (if you want the credit). It would also be allowed to be as short or as long as you want, and as unserious or serious as you want (you could literally submit, like, "Vote for Rollan, he's so funny and he needs a hug" as propaganda and I would accept it, or you can go deep and start talking about his parallels and arc and motifs and backstory and personality and hardcore analysis stuff, and that would also be fine). If multiple people submit propaganda for the same character/ship/quote, I’ll keep them all, and you are allowed to submit propaganda or anti-propaganda for as many characters/ships/quotes as you would like. When we're approaching the start of the bracket, I'll also say how many pieces of propaganda and anti-poganda were submitted for each character/ship/quote. That way, if a character/ship/quote has no propaganda or anti-paganda, it would be giving everyone a warning that that's the case and that it's the last chance to submit for them. Your propaganda also doesn't have to have any basis in canon. You could make up headcanons about a character and submit them as propaganda and that would be entirely fair game. You would not be allowed to submit links to analysis posts as propaganda, though, even if it's yours. Everything submitted needs to be something you wrote specifically for the bracket.

I would be the judge of whether the anti-propaganda crosses the line into bashing (no hard feelings, sometimes tone can be weird over text), and if it does I'd delete it but let whoever submitted it know that I did, so that they could try to submit something milder. Also, keep in mind that propaganda is subjective. Something you submit as anti-propaganda might actually resonate as propaganda with other people (like saying "Meilin was a racist and a classist" as anti-propaganda might just register as "Oh, she had such fantastic character development!" with some people, completely ruining what you were trying to do). Seems counterproductive, but if you have mixed feelings, I'd allow you to submit propaganda and anti-propaganda for the same character/ship/quote (I don't think anyone will actually do this, but it's an option).

If you have something else you want to add, put it in the tags. I’m also going to open up my ask box soon, so if you want to yell at me anonymously, that’ll be the place to go.

Hate to be that person, but reblog for sample size, please.

[neonhellscape]

okay its no secret i dont buy into marazhai being the persona he puts on. so as i've officially met him in game now, im making a list of all the in-game reasons i think he's a bit of an idiot [which i love btw. i find him far more compelling if he's a bit stupid/weird and he's trying so hard not to be but you just know nobody in commorragh is inviting him to parties]

the very first time you get a glance of him on a rooftop and. 'deal with this' "of course" proceeds to just walk off like 3 seconds after the other two

ambushes you. has you cornered. is in optimal position to kick your ass frankly, high ground and better weapons and utilising shock against you. ...he bitches at you for a while, gets insulted, then runs off into the forest with a maniacal cackle

heinrix fired a mild insult [considering what he's like to everyone else its barely an insult] and he took big enough issue with it to start saying how he'll break him and turn him into a pet. oh sure dude you're responding super well to this mild comment from the guy who accidentally insults everyone and their entire ancestral line at some point

i think it says something that he's learned to speak your language fluently too. that Has to be some kind of Yikes moment to admit publicly in drukhari culture. buried family secret great great grandfather drukhari-georg learned to speak mon keigh and now we claim he just spoke oddly because was shot in the head as a child to prevent the shame

he also knows the mon keigh lore that says youre a super special little guy as rogue trader and actually LISTENS to the fact you're the special little guy as rogue trader. and he does treat you as more equal/with more respect than the other characters. thats not just a drukhari culture yikes thats what gets you checked for a concussion or brain damage

literally socially atrocious enough its believed he's working with you [read: with you. not using you, not manipulating, cooperating. this is a big difference i feel] and only he himself doesnt believe it

ignore the fact he eventually DOES work with you which. is its own follow up statement

challenges you to fight him, to give chase then and there. i made him wait while i went through english government simulator where i queued for multiple days, did multiple day/week voidship trips back and forth, got distracted by accidentally starting jae's romance, pasqal telling me to servitorise her, getting blackout drunk with her, shipwide broadcast tm, giving her a voidship, her getting me a space cat, attacked by pirates, dealt with a plague, explored a few extra systems.......................

he destroys your palace. ...its rebuilt effectively within a week. most of the damage is in bodies which are just sent to the poor district to rot [almost feels worse than the damage done good job imperium]

the throne has claw marks. he could've blown it up or shot it or piled corpses on it but no he wanted to sit on the fancy chair and so turned into a common housecat mauling the sofa arm

how long was he just sitting there lounging on that chair? again see how long i kept him waiting. he was just sitting there trying to find a comfy position on this [for him] kinda small chair JUST so he could briefly taunt, break your window with his space motorbike, jump off the chair in a dramatic [but not gunna lie not that impressive] feat of gymnastics, then fly out. he doesnt even shoot at you as he leaves

i will continue my list as i see more that entertain me

[araneitela]

Alright, I've been mulling on this for most of the day, and unless a night's sleep changes my mind, I'll be working on returning (remaking) a very old multimuse of mine, that used to be over at iniziare. The blog will be entirely remade, and I'll post it here when it's done!

For those wondering, it will for now house: Guizhong, Yelan, Kafka and Arlecchino. Time to finish up that other WIP theme for this, I suppose! See you guys on the flip-side of this brighter future.

[tennessoui]

democratic fic part four

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

“We should go,” Kenobi says.  His voice shakes as much as his hands do, and Anakin has the almost irrepressible urge to grab them and still them. Hold them. 

“You should never have come down here in the first place,” Anakin bites back, even though his anger is far from productive. They should go. Anakin knows this. Anakin should be leaping at the chance to whisk a willing Kenobi back up to the safety of the Upper Levels. Kenobi is being cooperative. He’s only known the boy for a few days, but he already understands that Kenobi is rarely cooperative at all.

Kenobi’s lip curls up into the beginnings of a sneer, but something freezes suddenly in his face. His eyes go blank as he looks around, and then they start to water.

Oh stars, the boy is crying.

Oh stars, the boy cries so prettily that it makes Anakin feel like a dirty old man to have his hands all over him like this.

“They—” Obi-Wan blinks tear-filled eyes up at Anakin. “They were going to—”

Anakin swallows rather thickly. “Yeah,” he mutters, letting his hands fall to rest on the boy’s shoulders. The Force sings around them, so damned loud Anakin can hardly concentrate. “But uh. You’re safe, alright? I, uh.”

He flicks his eyes back to the crumpled, still forms of Obi-Wan’s would-be attackers, and the reality of what he just did catches up to him like a tidal wave. “I killed them,” he says out loud, eyes widening. Oh fucking Sith’s hells, he just killed a sentient. He could be—arrested or lose his seat in the Senate—he took another’s life—Force, the Jedi would demand he be put in Force suppression cuffs again. Worse, he’d have to sit through their remedial lessons and the Council would lecture him for hours on proper use of the Force. 

At least if he’s behind prison bars, he’d be forced to pay attention this time around, he thinks rather hysterically.

A pair of slender arms wind around his waist, shocking him out of the spiral of his thoughts. “For me,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pressing up into his hug and resting his head on Anakin’s shoulder, face turned into his neck. He can feel the wetness of Obi-Wan’s cheeks from his tears and the softness of his lips brushing his skin as he speaks.

He fits so well into Anakin’s arms, like he belongs there. 

This thought is just as hysterical as his previous ones.

“You killed them for me,” Obi-Wan repeats, nuzzling further into his neck. The way he says it makes it sound like it’s all fucking good, a justification to explain the literal fucking crime Anakin’s just committed. 

A voice that sounds very much like Padmé is screaming at him in his head that no justification can explain away taking someone’s life, but then Obi-Wan pulls back from his one-sided hug and looks up at him again with wet eyes. His face is scratched up and bleeding. His hair is mussed up too from the creature’s claws gripping and twisting it.

It makes such a sense of wrongness well up in Anakin’s chest that he almost chokes on it. 

“They would have hurt me,” Obi-Wan says. “But you killed them before they could.” 

Anakin gets the very strange impression that if Obi-Wan were a loth-cat, he would be purring right now. Purring and rubbing up against him.

Though, he doesn’t have to be part loth-cat for that last part, which he’s already proven.

But it’s not as if the boy is wrong. The Zephrian would have hurt him. Anakin prevented that hurt from coming to fruition.

As if someone else is controlling his body, he raises his hand to Obi-Wan’s face and fits it against his unblemished cheek. They’re both shaking now. Adrenaline leaving the body perhaps. Residual fear from Obi-Wan. Maybe even shock settling in.

“We should go,” Obi-Wan whispers, even as he stands still, face cradled in Anakin’s palm. “This may be the lower levels, but eventually a Coruscanti guard is going to find the bodies.”

The bodies. The bodies that Anakin made.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flare for a second—a trick of the light making them shine golden as he huffs out a breath. “I’m cold,” he says, and he shivers again.

He’s cold because he’s wearing a skimpy little outfit among the shadows of the Lower Levels. He’s cold because more skin is showing than he’s got hidden away. He’s cold because he is not tucked away in his grandfather’s apartments where a pretty little bird like him should be.

Anakin’s nostrils flare even as he drops his hand away from Kenobi’s face to yank his cloak off and drag it over the boy’s shoulders. “We’re leaving,” he bites out, anger rising once more at the sight of the little princeling in front of him.

“That’s what I’ve been—Force!” Obi-Wan’s snappish reply turns into a surprised curse when Anakin takes his elbow and pulls him into motion. “Ow, Anakin!”

But Anakin knows now what Obi-Wan really sounds like when he’s in pain, the high, pitchy gasp he’s capable of making, so he does not ease up on his grasp. He just—he needs to get the boy back where he belongs, away from him, and then he needs to forget all about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“You’re going home,” Anakin snarls, cutting through the crowd in the opposite direction. The smartest of the people around them get out of the way as soon as they see him coming. Kenobi makes a little noise of surprise when someone shoves into him, pressing closer to Anakin. “And then I’m never going to see you again.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Obi-Wan says, panting slightly as he has to walk twice as fast to keep up with Anakin’s strides. “My grandfather will hardly ban you from seeing m—”

Anakin swings them to a stop and pushes the infuriating princeling up against the closest wall. “That wasn’t an opinion,” he growls, using every inch of his greater height to loom over the boy. “That was an order.”

Kenobi’s eyes are round, wet. There’s none of that fear that had been present earlier, even though he is being held against an alleyway’s disgusting wall by a murderer. 

“You should be afraid,” Anakin mutters, tracing his eyes over the lines of Kenobi’s face. “Why aren’t you afraid.” This isn’t a question either; this is a demand. 

Kenobi blinks up at him and then relaxes into the wall. “You killed them for me,” he murmurs. “And then you gave me your cloak.”

As if that’s an explanation.

Anakn bares his teeth, feeling wild as the Force howls around him.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan adds, dropping his eyes away only to look at him once more from under his fucking eyelashes. “For saving me.”

Some newly awakened beast inside Anakin roars at this, though even he cannot tell if it’s from satisfaction, hunger, or rage.

“I am never going to see you again,” he repeats as firmly as he knows how.

“Yes, Senator,” Kenobi replies. His mouth curls up into a small smile. Anakin wants to bruise him. “But I can’t fly like this, Senator,” he bites at his lip. The cut on his face has stopped bleeding, but it looks wicked. His hair is still a mess. “Please take me home.”

Anakin scowls. The boy calls him senator like it’s some other title altogether. It makes his tongue feel heavy, his chest tight, and his face hot. “I’m flying,” he barks before turning out of the alleyway. He feels wrong-footed. Wrong. 

He killed a sentient today, but all he can think about is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s pretty little face looking up at him as tears beaded along his eyes. All he can think is that he should have kille the Zephrian faster, before they or their monkey could ever touch Kenobi. All he can think is that he wants to make Kenobi cry again.

Kenobi’s speeder-bike is where the boy left it, watched over by the same eager vendor. “No one touched it,” the man swears as soon as he sees Anakin approach.

“Good,” Anakin tells him. “Much obliged.”

He swings his leg up and over the seat grabbing its handles. It’s a new make, of course it fucking is. The little princeling would never fly anything but the newest speeder on the line. It makes him seethe, that Kenobi will never know the poverty Anakin came from, that he’ll never appreciate how fucking good he has it, that he’ll risk everything he has on a whimsical decision. He’ll leave a brand new speeder in a shit alleyway. He’ll parade around the Lower Levels in diamonds and sapphires. He’ll cry for others—

“Hey!” The vendor protests. “Hey, you said—”

“I lied,” Anakin growls back. Kenobi’s arms wrap around his waist again. The boy presses indecently, unnecessarily close. 

“You sleem—”

“You should leave,” Obi-Wan’s voice chimes in, lilting and calm and filled with such a heavy application of sheer power that Anakin’s feet automatically kick the speeder into low gear before he realizes that Kenobi wasn’t commanding him. 

“I…should leave,” the vendor repeats, sounding struck over the head. Anakin feels rather struck too. He’d heard of the Jedi mindtrick, most people had given the prevalence of the Jedi in popular culture, but he’d never seen it in action. He’d never heard it.

It sends a shiver of disgust down his spine in a way the popularized idea of the trick never had. To take control of someone’s mind—to enslave them to your will, even for a second….

Kenobi presses his face against his neck, turning so that his lips slide over his skin. “We should leave too,” he murmurs as if he has not just stolen a man’s free will from him, if only for a moment. 

But then—Anakin killed a sentient tonight. Does he have any room to be disgusted with Kenobi’s actions?

Padmé would despise both of them if she knew what they got up to tonight when they left the gardens. Wouldn’t she? Not that he’d ever tell her.

Anakin’s mouth forms a thin line as he pushes the speeder into motion. The engine purrs near-silently as it’s guided forward. Anakin almost wishes it were louder so he could not hear Obi-Wan’s inhales and exhales—but then, he’d still be able to feel them, plastered to his back as he is.

He flies, with Kenobi’s loose instruction, to the sector and apartments the Count is renting out. All the lights but the ones illuminating the docking bay are shut off, the quarters completely dark.

Anakin pulls the speeder parallel to the docking bay and waits for the boy to slide off and onto the platform.

“Is this the trade then?” Kenobi asks lightly as he dismounts, his hands clutching each other beneath the too-long sleeves of the cloak when he stands straight on the safety of the docking bay. “I keep your cloak, you keep my speeder-bike?”

“I will have one of my aides return it to this address tomorrow,” Anakin says flatly. “But you can keep the cloak.”

“I don’t want your stupid cloak!” The words burst out of Obi-Wan, much louder and more fierce than Anakin expected. The boy’s hands make fists at his sides. 

He recovers quickly though. “Then what do you want, Kenobi? Because I can’t pretend I have the slightest idea!”

“I want—” the boy cuts himself off an scrubs his hands over his face so roughly that the cut across his chin and up his cheek starts bleeding once more. Anakin watches it re-open in the moonlight, Kenobi’s blood appearing more black than red. “I just wanted you to like me,” Obi-Wan finishes with a sniffle, voice breaking halfway through his confession.

Anakin clenches his jaw and looks away, feeling awkward and confused and strangely sympathetic. “You cannot force another into liking you, Obi-Wan,” he finally replies, cutting his eyes back to the boy’s pathetic figure. “It is not like one of your mind tricks.”

“I know that!” Obi-Wan says, “Of course I know that, I’m not a youngling!”

“You’ve been acting like one this entire night!” Anakin snaps back, sympathy draining away from him to make room for the anger.

Obi-Wan stills, and his eyes flash. “I can show you, Senator,” he says, tone changing completely. Becoming sultry. Dark with promise. He takes a step forward, allowing Anakin’s cloak to shrug off his narrow shoulders and pool around his feet. “I can show you I’m not a youngling…if you want…”

“What—”

Obi-Wan flicks his fingers through the air, and the speeder’s engine is sputters into idleness at the same time Anakin finds himself pushed roughly back on the seat, leaving just enough room for Obi-Wan to slither over his spread legs and sit himself in his lap.

“Kenobi—”

Obi-Wan’s arms wrap loosely around his neck. The only reason Anakin doesn’t shake him off is because he’d probably fall to his death off the docking bay just to be contrary.

That’s the only reason.

“I don’t want you to think of me as a youngling, Senator,” Obi-Wan murmurs, ducking his head and catching Anakin’s eye. “I’m not a youngling, and if we’re being honest, I’m not sure you’ve been looking at me like I’m one either.”

“Get off—”

“Exactly what I want, Senator,” Obi-Wan says, using his grip around Anakin’s neck to rock down against him. It feels good. Stars help him, it feels good.

And Obi-Wan must know it or feel his pleasure in the Force or something, because he smirks slightly, a crack of honest emotion in his seductress mask. 

It sends a pang of arousal up his chest at the same moment he finds the strength to raise Kenobi off of him and push him to the docking bay’s floor.

The little minx falls easily onto his back, spreading his legs wide as he props himself up on his elbows to pout up at Anakin. “Well now I’m just confused, Senator. Do you want me to act like a youngling or act like a man?”

Anakin exhales forcefully, hands clenching into fists on the speeder bike’s handles. His front feels cold; his lap too empty.

Palpatine was right. Kenobi is dangerous. Best avoided. Best to be put out of sight and out of mind. “I want to never see you again.” 

The words come out flat and robotic. He can’t even fucking blame Kenobi for laughing when he hears them. Anakin sort of feels like laughing at himself the entire flight back to his apartments.

When he wakes in the middle of the night, erection straining against the thin material of his sleep pants and Kenobi’s sweet face fading from behind his eyelids, he doesn’t feel much like laughing anymore. Perhaps more like sobbing, as if he were the young temperamental boy out of the pair of them. 

(Poll For The Next Part LIVE)

[burinazar]

Oh, wait, wait, ok, I can tell tumblr my news now.

I was accepted into the JET Program and will be moving to Japan for one year starting in late summer to teach English. : )

I don't know how many other applicants have ever had either of my specific application 'angles'. I think they were both pretty weird, but also very, very me, and I'm pleasantly surprised that they seemed to have worked, going off both by the acceptance and the very positive and warm reactions I got during the interview I had. These were:

Science/scicomm/museum background + implying mutual interest in and love of like insects and sea life could be an avenue of intercultural connection and exchange

India and Japan have always struck me as weirdly similar in ways nobody seems to discuss, especially in both being simultaneously hurtling into modernity and deeply traditional/conservative in many ways and places

So. Is this a silly idea considering most people in this program are fresh college grads, and people my age are expected to maybe be getting more settled rather than hopping continents? Is this a scary idea, considering I'll have to uproot all my shit and go exist in a foreign country whose language I really don't know beyond miniscule smatterings? I mean, hmm, yes on both counts, but I'm very excited. On count one, I'd only get older in the future and demonstrably *don't* already have a settled life and career here to disrupt (lol), and on count two...guys, I'm so so tired of letting fear and inertia make my life decisions.

Time to pack up and store most of my shit and end my lease and. Yeah. Also I haven't actually been to India in five years and will probably try to visit my relatives there in the coming months since idk if i'd had an opportunity for a prolonged visit in the future during the one year (at least) in jp. I'll also be probably selling, trading, or giving away a lot more of my hobby shit (that was sort of an ongoing project already but since I'll be unable to use most of it for a year plus it's another reason to do so), so uh, if you've ever wished I would sell any of my dolls now might be time to commit BJD Hobby Taboo and ask me lol. And, obviously, I'll be studying more Japanese, because mine is incredibly へたくそ at the moment. So much to do. But I'm really excited. And thank you to all of y'all that have been encouraging to me about anything related to this matter <3

[winterbean177]

NEW SOLARS FIC COMING UP ON AO3 !!

Hi all!

This is WinterBean (AO3 Writer) here. Just wanted to share with you guys that a new fic of mine will be showing up very soon hehehe... It's in the editing stage atm, but yes it has been sorta finished as a draft right now, sitting in between my first two fics in length (~12k+, although I'll have to change that depending on how long it gets after editing).

This focuses on Yumyulack and Korvo's relationship Post S5 Finale!

Here's a little summary of the story (S5 spoilers ahead!)

NAME: Papa Korvo

Potential Tags: Hurt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, One chapter is a bit of a whump, yes this is focused on Yumyulack and Korvo, Post S5 Finale, ~ Daddy Issues ~, Yet another excuse to hurt my favourite character, Taco Bell Parking Lot Fight Scene, Bad Communication, injuries and overprotective father moments, could be OOC but I can't tell by myself, etc etc...

Summary: Yumyulack and Korvo struggle with working through their issues as a family, and things end up going a little bit awry. After all, Yumyulack calling Korvo 'Papa' seems to have some lasting effects. In the end, Korvo just wants to be a father, and Yumyulack secretly wants to have a father, yet they simply cannot get over themselves and admit they do really see each other as family.

But when things begin to go wrong, Yumyulack's desire for a father figure becomes more of a need as some fights are just a bit too hard to handle all by oneself...

Anyway, hope you guys have a good day, and I really hope this little taster summary (I'll adjust it to fit the vibe more once it's up on AO3, in which I'll post the link here)!

See you guys there, hopefully! Comments / reblogs with any additions/ideas/opinions are welcome!!

-WinterBean ❤️❤️